Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 5. The New Wingsecond

It was almost lunch time when they finally got to the dining hall. They’d dozed off for a while, exhausted by the flight and its aftermath combined with not having had much sleep the previous night. Then they’d been distracted by the dragons returning. Herebeth caught a wherry that he shared rather messily with Rioth. All in all, it had been a relaxing way to spend a morning and D’gar felt very mellow.

As they walked in, he spotted several of the other Fort riders sitting around a table. ‘Here goes,’ he said softly to H’rek. He’d already warned him that they would be in for some good-natured teasing and ribald comments once their flight became common knowledge. There were cheers and whistles as they were spotted.

‘You might have told us what you were up to,’ M’rell said, shifting up the bench to make room.

‘Don’t think anyone much was about when Rioth rose,’ he commented.

‘And you, lad.’ M’rell addressed H’rek. ‘Next time, ask your dragon not to make such a racket blooding her kill first thing. It woke me up.’

‘Sorry,’ H’rek muttered although he didn’t look particularly contrite.

‘Take no notice of them,’ D’gar said. ‘As if you’ve any say when your dragon decides it’s time.’

‘Ooh, aren’t we being protective?’ That was from V’chal, who had arrived to join the rest of the Wing.

‘When did you get here?’

‘Just this morning. Lilith rose yesterday afternoon.’ He had a good look at H’rek, then turned back to D’gar. ‘I had an amazing flight. How about you and the weyrling?’

‘I’m not a weyrling,’ H’rek corrected. ‘As for the flight, Rioth’s totally besotted with Herebeth.’ He glanced at D’gar and gave him a wink. ‘He wasn’t bad either.'

D’gar just shrugged and smiled. The other riders banged the table and shouted their approval.

H’rek scanned the dining hall. ‘Er, does anyone know where my clutchmates have got to?’

‘Bagging up firestone for tomorrow, I heard,’ T’garrin said. ‘Don’t be in too much of a hurry to join them. A morning flight always means a day off.’

He looked unsure. ‘Maybe it does in your Weyr, but I’m not sure if that applies here.’

‘What used to happen in Southern?’ D’gar asked him.

‘Well, once the dragons got back, we just carried on with the usual lessons or drills. It was the best way to avoid Kylara.’

‘Who?’

H’rek sighed. ‘Prideth’s rider. She was always there trying to… er, console the losing riders. Whether they wanted it or not.’

‘Sounds like the kind of woman I wouldn’t mind meeting,’ M’rell joked.

‘Don’t be daft. If she’s a gold rider, she wouldn’t want anything to do with the likes of you.’ M’rell’s optimism regarding women who might fall for his charms never failed to amuse D’gar.

‘She was always after F’nor and he rides a brown,’ H’rek put in.

‘Well, there you go, boys. I might be in with a chance.’

‘Not once she finds out you’re four hundred Turns old,’ J’rud added, then ducked as M’rell threw a bread roll at him.

‘What’s that about?’ D’gar was puzzled.

‘Oh, that was the big joke this morning at breakfast,’ T’garrin said. ‘Someone started it off by saying how our dragons must have shrunk during four hundred Turns between. Then a few other wags thought up similar comments. Like, “you’re not looking bad for four hundred Turns.” It was funny at first, but when you’ve heard the same thing a few times it really gets on your nerves.’

‘Still, the joke’s on them now, if a four hundred Turn old dragon can catch one of their greens.’ V’chal smirked. ‘Mind you, who’d have thought the first one of us to get in there would be D’gar. I thought Herebeth wasn’t interested anymore.’

D’gar knew he was trying to stir things up, so just shrugged in a casual manner. ‘Dragons do what they want, when they want.’

‘Look lively, everyone,’ M’rell hissed. ‘R’feem’s on the way over and he doesn’t look too pleased.’

‘Does he ever?’ V’chal commented, although he took his feet off the bench and sat up straight.

‘I see you lot are keeping yourselves busy,’ the Wingleader said, sitting down and glancing around the table. ‘Who’s this?’ he asked, spotting H’rek.

V’chal smirked. ‘Best ask D’gar about that, sir.’

R’feem glared at him. ‘Well?’

‘My dragon flew his this morning,’ D’gar muttered.

‘Oh, so it was you. You’ve gone and put the dragon among the wherries, my lad. I’ve just spent most of the morning in a meeting with the Benden Wingleaders, discussing wing placements and the like. Except one particular bronze rider had a bone to pick about mating flight etiquette. There wouldn’t have been a bronze in that flight, would there?’

‘Er, yes sir. There was.’

‘Congratulations, then. You punched the former Weyrleader of Benden.’

Before D’gar had a chance to think of a reply, H’rek sprang to his defence. ‘It wasn’t D’gar’s fault. Everyone knows that sort of thing can happen in a flight.’

R’feem nodded. ‘That’s just what I said to them. And as for stopping our dragons rising, that’s easier said than done especially when there are so many greens in a Weyr.’ He sighed. ‘No, the real problem is that they don’t know where to fit us in and this morning’s antics just complicated matters.’

‘How?’ M’rell asked. ‘I mean, all it’s done is show that our so-called four hundred Turn old dragons are capable of catching theirs.’

‘Exactly. They’d been presuming that due to the differences in size there would be issues mixing up Benden dragons with ours in a Wing. Concerns were raised about the speed and stamina of our dragons and whether it might be over taxing them to expect them to keep up. Then you,’ and he pointed at D’gar, ‘proved everyone wrong on both counts. So much for theories, eh?’

‘We didn’t do too badly in the past fighting Thread either,’ J’rud said. ‘I mean, they asked for our help, didn’t they?’

‘That’s not the issue. They can’t deny we have practical experience they don’t. But when a Weyr’s been isolated as long as they have… I think that now we’re here some of them are finding it hard to cope with the fact it’s not just Benden standing alone any more. They need us to fill in the gaps until they can breed more dragons, but I gather they’d rather keep us at arm’s length, so to speak.’

V’chal looked pointedly at D’gar, ‘Except some of us have got quite a lot closer than that already.’

There were a few sniggers around the table. D’gar hoped that he wasn’t blushing like a weyrling.

R’feem continued. ’Anyway, we got it settled in the end. None of us will be flying in the Benden Wings.’

‘So why are we here, then?’ T’garrin asked, frowning.

‘Us odds and sods from the five Weyrs will be making up two new Wings. I’ll be leading one…’ There were a few cheers at that. ‘And W’lir from Telgar the other. So, all of us from Fort will be sticking together with the addition of the High Reaches riders and seven from Igen. That’ll make, let’s see… three bronzes including Piroth, six browns, seven blues and ten greens. Eight blues once Jekkoth’s fit to go between again.’

D’gar did some quick calculations. That would give an average wing strength of around eighteen, taking into account that the smaller dragons could only manage half a Fall before they tired. Well, it was better than they’d had towards the end of the last Pass, at any rate.

‘Well, now that’s settled, I’ve made a decision about appointing Wingseconds. Now I know that M’rell and D’gar were unofficially filling in the role for the last couple of Falls, but there’s a couple of riders from the other Weyrs I’ve had to take into consideration. One of them’s even been a Wingleader. So, the new Wingseconds will be F’drun and bronze Ryth from High Reaches and B’lin with brown Ondiath from Igen.’

‘It must have been the fish,’ M’rell mouthed across the table. D’gar shrugged. He was a little disappointed, but to be honest, he hadn’t expected to become Wingsecond any time soon. If he was Wingleader, he’d not want to appoint someone as - unstable - as he’d been since S’brin died. Besides, for R’feem to choose Fort riders over others with more experience could be seen as favouritism and might cause problems.

‘Right. So, after we’ve had something to eat, we’ll be going out to overfly the area we’ll be covering tomorrow. It’ll be a chance for you all to familiarise yourself with your new wingmates and I can work out the best positions for you to fly in. D’gar…’

He looked up. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Is Herebeth fit to fly this afternoon?’

Feel like leaving your sweet green dragon this afternoon for drills? he sent.

If I must.

Not tired you out, then?

It was not a long flight. I am not as tired as after a Fall.

‘He says he’s fine.’

‘Good. Anyone got any questions?’

As he started to fend off a few queries from some of the other riders, V’chal leaned across to speak to H’rek. ‘So, tell me some more about your flight. I want to know everything.’

H’rek looked a bit unsure about what he should do, so D’gar helped him out. ‘V’chal is always like this. You don’t have to say anything unless you want to. Although I’m sure he’ll let us all in on the details of what happened when Lilith rose whether we want to hear it or not.’

V’chal changed his focus to D’gar. ‘Just interested to know how you measured up,’ he said smoothly. ’S’brin used to say you were always good for another couple of goes after a flight.’

D’gar was fairly sure S’brin had never said anything of the sort. He’d not been over fond of V’chal and had known that anything you said to him would be round the Weyr in no time. H’rek definitely looked embarrassed now. ‘Leave it out. He’s Holdbred.’

‘Yes, but he’s a green rider now.’

‘It’s all right. I can handle this,’ H’rek said confidently.

D’gar left them leaning together and talking softly as he went up to fetch some food. M’rell joined him, picking up two bowls from the stacked pile and throwing one to him. He caught it deftly.

‘Just testing your reflexes. Thought you might be a bit tired after this morning.’

‘Not you as well.’

M’rell ladled some stew into his bowl. ‘You like him, don’t you? You two seemed to be getting along pretty well yesterday evening.’

‘It was just a mating flight.’ D’gar helped himself to a portion.

‘Really? Come on. I’ve known you too long. Your dragon doesn’t fly unless your heart’s in it too.’

There was a certain amount of truth in that. ‘He’s a bit young for me, don’t you think?’

‘We’re hardly ancient ourselves, are we? You’re what, twenty-three now? And he’s got to be in his late teens.

‘Just seems a lot younger, I suppose.’ Maybe it was not having fought Thread yet that gave that impression. Or, who knows, perhaps having been born into this modern age made a difference. ‘Joking aside, sometimes I feel four hundred Turns old.’

M’rell picked up a few slices of freshly baked bread. ‘So, do you think he could introduce me to this Kylara?’

‘If what he said was anything to go by, I doubt you’ll need an introduction. I mean, you’re not a bad looking chap. Just hang around outside her weyr and hope for the best.’

‘Hmm. Might try that later. And if she’s not interested, there’s this little kitchen lass I’ve had my eye on…’

After they’d eaten, R’feem left to round up the rest of the Wing. Riders dispersed to fetch straps and wherhide riding gear. Dragons swooped down from the heights upon which they had been taking the sun.

‘I’ll, er, see you later,’ D’gar said to H’rek on his way out. He still wasn’t entirely sure whether H’rek would want to see him again after the glow from the mating flight wore off, so it was best not to make any definite plans.

‘Well, I suppose I’d better go and help bag up firestone.’

There was a slightly awkward pause. D’gar wasn’t sure if he should give him a goodbye kiss or not but by the time he’d considered the pros and cons, Rioth had landed and H’rek was mounting up, so it was too late anyway.

A short while later, the full Wing had mustered. R’feem and his two new Wingseconds looked over dragons and riders, assessing their condition and fitness. D’gar did his own assessments, fully aware the other riders must be doing the same, knowing that their own and their dragon’s hide would only be safe if this disparate group could meld together into an efficient Threadfighting unit. With Thread falling the next day, it would be necessary for each dragon and his or her rider to get to know how well - or not - their wingmates might perform as quickly as possible.

At the moment, everyone was staying in their own groups; Fort, Igen, High Reaches. It was noticeable that the Igen riders had all clustered together, with their dragons, in the sunniest part of the landing area. Even then, they were well wrapped up and still looked cold. By contrast, the High Reaches riders hadn’t put on their wherhide jackets yet and were all wearing lightweight, short sleeved shirts as if to demonstrate how impervious they were to the elements. D’gar felt a bit too warm here in the Bowl, as he’d put on one of the thick jerseys his mother had knitted under his jacket, knowing that it would be much colder once they were in the air. Dragonriders became used to shedding or donning various layers of clothing as they travelled from one place to another. Even back home, there was often a considerable difference between the air temperature at Fort Weyr and the balmier conditions lower down the valley at the Hold.

‘This is D’gar, “ R’feem said, introducing him to the Wingseconds. ‘He’s been in my Wing for nearly five Turns now.’

B’lin, the brown rider from Igen, smiled as he shook hands. ‘Good looking dragon you have there. Isn’t he the one who flew that Benden green this morning?’

So, it had got around. ‘Er, yes. That was Herebeth.’ His dragon turned his head to look at them all, eyes gently whirling.

‘Five Turns and not promoted yet?’ The bronze rider, F’drun, looked down his nose at D’gar. He’d look down at most riders though, as the man had to be well over six feet tall and almost as broad. Still, D’gar felt as if he was being judged and found wanting in some way.

R’feem stepped in. ‘At Fort, we didn’t generally promote younger riders. Found it caused problems with the older ones.’

‘I’ve never found that to be a problem as long as they’re competent.’ F’drun said.

Was than an implication that he wasn’t? D’gar found himself taking a dislike to the man, even though they’d only just met. He hoped that he was wrong, but he didn’t think they were going to have anything close to a good working relationship.

The three moved on. Probably a good thing, otherwise he might have made some retort that wouldn’t do him any favours. He busied himself adjusting the straps.

The man has made you angry.

Yes. I didn’t like what he said.

He did not say much.

He didn’t have to.

By the time they took off, he’d managed to - more or less - put the encounter to the back of his mind. Once the Wing was aloft, R’feem spent some time seeing how well the different colour dragons matched up to each other in both speed and manoeuvrability, then started to arrange them into various fighting formations. After that, they worked on manoeuvres as a Wing, so that the dragons could get a feel for each other’s pace and were able to keep a consistent distance apart. Once he was happy that there were no real problems - and this entailed some more shuffling of various pairs - they went between to Benden Hold to see the territory they’d be protecting the following day. This was the area that produced the renowned Benden wines, so D’gar had expected to see vineyards below them, but had never before appreciated the vast acreage under cultivation. The rows of grapevines, just starting to burst into leaf, seemed to go on forever. If one Thread burrowed down there, it would be catastrophic for the growers and a wine lover’s worst nightmare.

They returned to the Weyr late in the afternoon, passing over the firestone bunkers on the descent to the Bowl. Bags of graded stone had been neatly stacked in readiness. D’gar found himself wondering if that, too might cause problems. Would Herebeth be able to manage a lump as large as could be comfortably chewed by a Benden brown? Someone else had probably already considered the issue, but just in case, he thought he should mention it to R’feem. After they’d landed, he made his way over and passed on his concerns.

‘That’s a good point, lad. I’ll check later. It wouldn’t do to get a replacement sack mid Fall and find you can’t use the stuff.’

He was making his way past the other dragons to Herebeth when someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him round. It was F’drun. ‘What did you have to say to the Wingleader just now?’

‘I was worried about the firestone, that’s all. Whether they’ve thought to take into consideration the relative size of our dragons compared to theirs.’

‘Listen.’ He poked D’gar in the chest. Even through the wherhide, it hurt. ‘From now on, anything you have to report goes through me first. I don’t want riders bothering the Wingleader with every little whinge.’

‘That’s not how we used to do it,’ he protested.

‘Well, it’s how I want it done from now on. Got that, rider?’

Did he want to pick a fight? Maybe he did. Or maybe he was just throwing his weight around to see if anyone would stand up to him. ‘Until I get that instruction directly from my Wingleader, nothing changes. Got that, Wingsecond?’ He was conscious of dragons becoming unsettled.

Are you all right? Do you need help?

Everything’s fine.

F’drun stared at him for a few seconds. His huge fists clenched. D’gar wondered if he was about to get punched but he stood his ground. Then, he became aware that other riders were forming up on either side of him. M’rell, J’rud and even V’chal.

F’drun looked at them all with narrowed eyes, then focussed back on D’gar. ‘You,’ he said, stopping just short of another poke, ‘Are a troublemaker. I’m going to keep my eye on you.’ Then he spun on his heel and was gone.

‘What was all that about?’ M’rell asked.

‘Not sure. Think he’s just trying us out.’

‘Nasty piece of work,’ J’rud said. ‘Do you think that’s why they wanted rid of him from High Reaches?’

‘Who knows.’

V’chal sighed. ‘Pity. He’s such a hunk, too.’

Piroth tells us we are all to rest so that we are fresh for tomorrow. I think I shall go and find Rioth.

Lucky you. He still felt unsettled and had a bad feeling that this was just the beginning.

Later, his fears were confirmed. It was after they’d eaten. T’garrin had brought his cards down and was starting a game of Dragon Poker with J’rud. A few of the Benden riders had come over and looked like joining in. The rest of the Fort riders hung back. They knew T’garrin’s ways too well. He’d end up considerably richer by the end of the evening if he was on his usual form.

As they pulled up some chairs, two of the High Reaches riders joined them.

‘Saw you had a run in with our delightful bronze rider this afternoon,’ the older one said. At his age, you’d have expected him to have lost some of his hair, but you couldn’t tell, as his whole head was shaved and his scalp shone as if polished. He still wore his short-sleeved shirt, revealing muscular arms covered in dragon tattoos. ’T’burrad, Melth’s rider,’ he offered.

That was the heavily scarred blue dragon, D’gar recalled. ‘D’gar. Herebeth,’ he said in return.

‘Oh, we know who you are,’ the other rider said. ‘You’re F’drun’s next victim.’

‘What?’

‘It’s what he does. Always picks on someone. Makes their life a misery. Makes everyone else have second thoughts about crossing him.’ T’burrad shrugged. ‘Thought we’d better warn you, though.’

‘Thought we’d got rid of him when we were sent here.’

‘You were in his Wing?’ M’rell asked.

‘V’vil here was. I was lucky enough to avoid the bastard,’ T’burrad said. ‘Might have landed one on him, otherwise.’

‘What did you lot do to get sent here?’ V’vil sipped from his mug of klah.

‘Eh?’

‘Well, you must have done something. They wouldn’t have got rid of you otherwise.’

M’rell and D’gar looked at each other. Were they missing something, D’gar wondered? ‘We survived,’ he said. ‘Most of the rest of the Wing didn’t.’

‘And our Weyrleader had promised to send a few riders over here,’ M’rell added.

‘As they all did,’ D’gar pointed out. ‘Easier to send the odds and sods than break up an intact Wing. Isn’t that why you’re here?’

The two exchanged glances. ‘It doesn’t work that way in High Reaches,’ V’vil said at last. ‘F’drun’s here because T’kul hates his guts. I’m here because my Bitath got a bit too close to Merika’s Elyth on the last mating flight.’

‘So T’kul hates your guts too,’ T’burrad put in. ‘Basically, if T’kul doesn’t like you and there’s an opportunity to be rid of you, then he’ll take it.’

D’gar was less concerned about why they’d been sent to Benden than what they’d said earlier. ‘So, why me? Why’d F’drun pick me?’

‘No idea. Maybe he heard your name first. Maybe he just doesn’t like the look of you. There’s no reason to it. At least, none I’ve ever been able to work out. If you were in his Wing, you just kept your head down and hoped he didn’t notice you.’

‘Anything I can do now?’

V’vil smiled slowly. ‘Hope that Thread gets him. He’s a big enough target.’

He was still mulling over this when he went up to the hearth to get a refill.

Someone touched him lightly on the shoulder. He jumped, almost spilling his klah.

‘Sorry,’ H’rek said. ‘Didn’t mean to startle you. Had a good afternoon?’

‘I’ve had better. How about you?’

‘Bagging firestone has never been my favourite job. What happened?’

‘New Wingsecond hates me already.’

‘Why?’

‘No one seems to know, apart from him being a bastard.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Get on with my job and try to avoid him.’

‘Oh.’ H’rek glanced back toward his clutchmates. ‘That lot seem to think I let down the side, letting Rioth get caught by a four hundred Turn old dragon.’

‘Surely that was up to Rioth?’

‘That’s what I tried to tell them. Then there’s all the snide comments about you, as well.’

‘Oh?’

‘Same kind of thing, really. “Could he still remember what to do after four hundred Turns.” Dimglows!’

D’gar found himself getting annoyed again. ‘Want me to have a word with anyone?’

‘No. Don’t bother. I think they’re just jealous. Let’s give them good reason to be.’ H’rek put one hand behind his head and pulled him over for a kiss. It took him slightly by surprise, but he thought he’d better play along with the game, so he put his arms around H’rek and enjoyed it while it lasted.

‘Are they looking?’ H’rek whispered, his breath warm on D’gar’s neck.

‘A few of them.’ It felt good to be this close to him again. And it was long enough since the mating flight for that to be due to genuine human emotions rather than dragonlust. But he needed to talk things through, somewhere with a touch more privacy than the dining hall. ‘Shall we just go for a walk?’

‘If you like.’

They held hands as they walked out to the Bowl. The sky was dappled with pink and grey clouds as the sun set.

‘That’ll give them something to gossip about,’ H’rek said. ‘Bet they think we’re going back to your weyr.’

It was a tempting thought. He very much wanted to leave his brain and scruples behind and just do what felt natural. But as they were humans rather than dragons, that would only cause complications. D’gar formulated several sentences in his head, rejecting them one by one.

‘Shall we?’ H’rek asked.

‘What?’ The question had disturbed his train of thought.

‘Go back to your weyr? Or mine.’

‘Are you sure that’s what you want? I mean, we barely know each other…’

‘How can you say that after what happened this morning.’ He stopped walking. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Um, well. I’m a lot older than you are.’

‘Not enough to make that much difference,’ H’rek protested. ‘Anyway, what’s age got to do with it? The first time I met you, I felt as if we’d known each other for Turns. We’ve got so much in common.’

That was all true. He’d felt the same. ‘I know.’

‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘I’m not sure it would be a good idea for us to carry on with this.’ Because I don’t think I could cope if I fell in love then had to scrape up what was left of you after Threadfall and take it between, he wanted to say.

‘Because I might get killed, you mean? Or you might?’

It was too fast for him to have got that via the dragons, so it just went to prove how much they thought alike. ‘Well, yes.’

‘So, what you’re saying is you’re never going to risk falling in love again in case someone dies. That’s crazy. Even if there wasn’t Thread, people have accidents. People die of illnesses. My grandfather choked on a piece of meat and he wasn’t doing anything more dangerous than having dinner.’

D’gar couldn’t help himself smiling at that image. Then realised that smiling might not be appropriate. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Don’t be. He was a miserable old git and I don’t miss him. Neither does his widow.’ H’rek paused briefly. ‘You think too much, you know?’

‘Someone else used to say that.’ If H’rek decided to leave him here now, he knew what would happen. He’d spend the whole night regretting what he’d done and end up feeling miserable. Herebeth would be miserable too and would make sure he knew about it.

‘What you need right now is to stop thinking. And I’ve got a few ideas about how to take care of that.’

Maybe he was right. Maybe this was the time to take a chance. Before he could change his mind again, he called Herebeth. I’ll need a lift back to the weyr.

Just you?

No, two of us.

About time. I don’t know why you humans make life so difficult for yourselves.