Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 12. Support Duties

Afternoon Fall was always worse; all that waiting around beforehand. D’gar preferred when it started in the morning, but unfortunately Thread wasn’t so obliging. Today he was more nervous than usual. He was still grounded, but H’rek would be fighting with the Queens Wing.

He’d not slept very well the previous night, partly because it was difficult to get comfortable from his injuries and partly through worry. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Kylara drawing the names (and barely pausing to read H’rek’s, as if she knew beforehand), F’drun lurking in the shadows. F’drun, who had reason enough to hate him (never mind that it was his fault to begin with) and who might want to get to him by hurting H’rek.

The morning dragged. There was a brief Wing meeting which D’gar attended even though he wouldn’t be flying. F’drun was conspicuous by his absence; he was also grounded due to Ryth’s injuries.

‘You’ll all be pleased to hear it's a short Fall today,’ R’feem said, once he’d joined them from the usual Wingleaders briefing. ‘Most of it will be out at sea with only around two hours over land in the vicinity of Greystones Hold. We’ll be overflying the fishing fleet for part of it though, protecting them so they can cast their nets as soon as trailing edge passes over.’

Shoals of fish always gathered to feed on drowned Thread and the fishermen should have a good haul. After the others had dispersed, R’feem took D’gar aside. ‘Try and have a chat with F’drun later.’

‘If he’ll even speak to me after what’s happened.’

‘He needs to get over it. And so do you. Shake hands, do whatever’s necessary. Probably not a good idea to settle your differences in a wrestling match though. I need you in one piece for the next Fall.’

D’gar smiled wryly. ‘Thanks for your confidence.’

‘And don’t forget to see the Headwoman about getting a lower level weyr. Maybe with room for two dragons, eh?’

‘We’d already decided that.’

R’feem nodded. ‘Good.’ He patted D’gar’s shoulder. ‘Glad to see you’re a bit more like your old self again.’

He met H’rek over lunch. The prospect of Fall hadn’t affected his appetite in the slightest and he piled his plate. D’gar toyed with a meat roll, pushing it around the plate and forcing himself to eat more for appearances than because he was hungry. He didn’t want H’rek to know how he was feeling.

‘Why aren’t you eating much? You’re not even riding Fall today.’ H’rek said.

‘Just not very hungry, that’s all. Probably all that fellis I’ve had recently.’

‘Oh, yes.’ H’rek wiped the remains of the stew from his bowl and chewed a hunk of bread.

‘But… take care, won’t you?’ It was a stupid thing to say, really. How could anyone be careful when they were doing something as potentially dangerous as fighting Thread. ‘I know not much Thread gets through to the lower levels, but watch out for the flamethrowers. They’re less precise than a flaming dragon.’ And Prideth’s rider might just accidentally keep her finger on the trigger for a fraction longer than necessary. He didn’t like to be thinking that about a gold rider, but F’drun certainly had no scruples. Any mishaps could be put down to a lack of experience; neither Lessa nor Kylara had been using flamethrowers for very long, after all.

‘Rioth will look after me. She’s so excited about flaming real Thread after all the practising we’ve done.’

D’gar thought back to his own first Falls as part of a fighting Wing. He’d been just as enthusiastic, back then. ‘Just mind you keep your eyes peeled, that’s all. Keep a good distance between you and the next dragon.’ It was as much as he could say without giving away his suspicions, which he hoped were unfounded.

Later, Herebeth dropped him off outside the infirmary. As walking wounded, he’d been co-opted to support duty. For him, that would mean helping out wherever necessary and for Herebeth, assisting injured dragons to land safely. At least if he was kept busy, it would take his mind off what might be happening over Greystones Hold.

They were already making preparations for treating the inevitable casualties. Trestle tables were set out in a row. Buckets of numbweed and redwort solution were being carried out by some of the Lower Caverns workers. D’gar spotted Bavi, H’rek’s friend from the laundry. ‘Anything I can do?’ he asked.

‘You can help me sort these.’ She carried several boxes containing linen and bandages. ‘If you’re all right for that.’

‘Oh, yes. Just not supposed to lift anything too heavy to give the cuts a chance to heal up. I’m not allowed to fly between until they do.’

‘I hope H’rek’s been looking after you.’ Her eyes twinkled.

‘In every way.’ Unconsciously, he glanced toward the assembly point for the Queens Wing. ‘I expect he’s told you he’s fighting today.’

His concern must have been obvious, for Bavi dropped her boxes on the table, came over and hugged him. ‘Don’t you worry. He’s been dying to get into a Wing since before we came back. He’ll be fine.’

D’gar wished she hadn’t put it quite like that. He wished he could be so certain; that he didn’t have the sort of mind that noticed so much and let imagination worry at it like a feline with its prey.

They’d begun unpacking the boxes when a bronze dragon landed nearby. Even if he’d not recognised the rider straight away, D’gar would have known it was Ryth from the way Herebeth reacted. He reared up on his hind legs, mantling his wings and lashing his tail, hissing loudly.

Hush now. He won’t do us any harm.

I don’t like him. I will keep him away from you.

It’s fine. I can look after myself now.

Reluctantly, the dragon settled, although his eyes still rolled red. It was clear that Ryth was equally as upset. D’gar noticed the nasty looking bite on his neck and a couple of gouges on his shoulder from the fight. As F’drun strode over, both dragons continued to watch each other intently, as if they might be contemplating a return match.

‘If your dragon attacks Ryth again I’ll not be held responsible for the consequences.’ It was clear F’drun was as unsettled as his dragon.

‘He won’t. I can control him well enough when I’m not being drowned.’ Even as he said it, he saw F’drun’s eyes narrow. It might be best to stick to business. ‘Is Ryth going to be fit enough for support duty?’

‘No thanks to you.’

Two Wings took off in formation. Both dragons watched them ascend. It was counter to their instincts not to be fighting Thread. It was a good job the Fall area was a sufficient distance from the Weyr that it wouldn’t upset them too much.

F’drun unloaded a couple of flamethrowers and a bag of tools from Ryth’s back. He found himself a clear patch of ground a good distance from D’gar and set to dismantling them. Regular cleaning and servicing were vital to keep them working efficiently and safely. The stress of use on dragon back - particularly going in and out of freezing between - meant that they needed more attention than those used by ground crews.

‘I expect those are her spares,’ Bavi said, sidling up to D’gar. ‘Saw him coming out of her weyr this morning.’

‘Who?’

‘Kylara.'

As he’d suspected. He wondered what they were up to, apart from the obvious.

“it’s a shame,’ she went on. ‘Prideth’s due to rise again, that’s why she’s doing it. To make T’bor jealous. Poor man. He dotes on her, you know.’

Ah, one of those sorts of relationships. Some women - and some men - liked to play people off against each other.

‘Mind you, Orth will probably fly her again. Good job Prideth’s got more sense than her rider. Hope he doesn’t think he's in with a chance.’

Now that would put the dragon among the wherries. Letting Herebeth chase a green in a Weyr not his own was fine, but if Ryth flew a Benden queen it would really stir things up. D’gar decided to wind Bavi up a bit. ‘Ryth’s a good bronze. Experienced, too.’

She frowned. ‘Bit small though.’

It had to be said. ‘Size isn’t everything, you know.’

That got a smile from her. They both glanced up as two more Benden Wings flew over, followed by R’feem’s Wing. At Benden, the Wings were traditionally named after each one’s leader. D’gar thought that might alter a few Turns into the Pass, when there had been several changes of leadership due to injuries or death. He noticed that M’rell and Toth had taken the other Wingsecond’s position in the formation due to his absence. Herebeth raised his head as they went overhead, then winked between.

We should be with them.

I know. I’m sorry we’re not. Next time, though.

Another rider walked over and introduced himself. ’T’sum. Wingsecond in F’lar’s Wing. My Munth’s out of action, but I’m fine. Hear you’re helping with support duty today. What have we got?’

‘My brown, Herebeth and the bronze over there. He’s got an injury to his neck, but his rider says it’s not affecting him too badly. That’s him, working on the flamethrowers.’

‘Done this before?’

‘A couple of times, back in the last Pass. Mind you, we had enough queens then that it wasn’t usually necessary.’ The queen dragons, being larger and stronger, could support an injured dragon to the ground alone without needing any aid. He’d not meant the comment in a derogatory way, but T’sum obviously took it as a slight.

‘Well, let’s hope your two will be strong enough to cope if one of ours needs help. Never known full-grown dragons to be so small before.’

D’gar felt a need to counter. ‘They shrunk during four hundred Turns between, didn’t you hear?’

T’sum had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Ah well. Dragons can lift what they think they can lift.’

‘Exactly. And my Herebeth has already shown he’s no difficulty in holding a modern green on his own.’

T’sum’s eyes flicked toward the dragon, then back to D’gar. ‘Ah, that brown dragon.’

As he spoke, the Queens Wing went by, the two massive gold dragons flanked by the youngsters from Prideth’s clutch plus a few other mature dragons. Herebeth bugled as he spotted Rioth. H’rek looked down and raised a hand in acknowledgement. D’gar waved back, all the worry he’d suppressed up until that moment flaring up again. He glanced over to F’drun, who was also looking up with an inscrutable expression.

Rioth will look after him, Herebeth said. She is a good flyer and eager to fight.

I know. I’m not worried about Rioth, though.

Prideth would not hurt one of her own hatchlings.

Prideth might not, but what about her rider, D’gar thought. He carried on watching as they cleared the rim of the Bowl and went between as one. The Weyr seemed suddenly very empty.

‘Best send them up to the rim, then,’ T’sum said. ‘Hopefully, they’ll not be needed today.’

‘Hopefully.’

Herebeth, can you go up to the rim now. And ask Ryth to do the same.

Ryth didn’t look very happy about being ordered around by a mere brown. F’drun glared too, but obviously confirmed the instruction to his dragon and the two of them took off. They stationed themselves well apart, though. D’gar hoped they would be able to work together if the need arose.

‘Think I’ll go and have a look at those flamethrowers. Nifty contraptions, aren’t they? I don’t really know much about how they work, so I suppose I’d better learn.’

It was something to do while they waited around. D’gar thought it was probably a good idea to join him. If he talked to F’drun in the company of the Benden Wingsecond, they would be less likely to snipe at each other.

F’drun had already drained down the tanks into a couple of buckets and was dismantling the trigger mechanism on one of the wands.

‘So, how does this thing work, then?’ T’sum asked, having introduced himself.

F’drun was actually quite good at explaining the function of the various parts, how they fitted together and the maintenance required. D’gar had stripped down and reassembled a few flamethrowers when he was a weyrling, so he joined in with the demonstration on the other one. It was, at least, something in which they could show a united front to the modern riders.

Time passed. A couple of casualties came back; none of the dragons needed assistance in landing. One had a nasty looking score on the tail, but as soon as the numbweed took effect, he settled down. Two of the riders had minor scores on the face and arm.

‘Should send them straight back up, ‘F’drun muttered. ‘Don’t even know why they came in for those.’

D’gar had to agree. ‘They’re new to it, though.’

‘How bad does it have to be?’ T’sum asked.

‘A lot worse than that. I was always told that if you can still throw firestone to your dragon and you aren’t bleeding too badly, you stay up there.’ D’gar told him. ‘And dragons will put up with minor scores better than their riders usually.’ He could see that T’sum looked slightly shocked at this.

F’drun, of course, went one better. ‘One of the Wingleaders at High Reaches rode most of a Fall with his foot gone. He only noticed when he got off his dragon and fell over.’

‘I can believe that. My feet get so cold up there I’m never sure if they’re still attached or not.’

F’drun actually smiled. ‘What’s the worst one you’ve seen?’ he asked.

‘Brown dragon. Hit by so much Thread that although he went between and froze off what was on the outside, some of it had eaten its way into his gut. Died on the floor of the Bowl without going between again. It was a mess.’ I can play this game, he thought, wondering if F’drun was testing his squeamishness. ‘How about you?’

‘A man with half his skull eaten away. You could see his brain.’

‘Did he live?’ T’sum asked, with a sort of horrified fascination.

‘For a few days.’ He looked back at D’gar. ’Maximum number of deaths in a single Fall?’

‘Six. That’s pairs, of course.’ Two Falls before the last; the bad one.

‘Nine,’ F’drun countered. ‘One was our former Weyrleader.’

‘That’s tragic,’ T’sum said.

F’drun grimaced. ‘He was past it. Should have retired but he wanted to go out fighting.’

‘We had a few like that at Fort, too.’ This was going well. Maybe it was possible to have a civil conversation with F’drun. Or perhaps he just felt the two of them should show solidarity against the Benden riders.

‘Then, of course you get the suicidal types. The ones who’ve lost the will to live. Who deliberately put themselves - and their dragon - at risk.’

Despite the warmth of the afternoon, D’gar suddenly felt cold. How could F’drun have found out that about him? Or was it simply a lucky guess?

‘Why would anyone do that?’ T’sum asked, in all innocence. ‘I’d never risk Munth, whatever happened.’

‘Ask him,’ F’drun gestured toward D’gar.

‘You knew someone like that?’

D’gar looked straight at F’drun. ‘I was someone like that, for a while. But I’m still here. And I’m over it now.’

F’drun ignored him and spoke directly to T’sum. ‘That’s why we don’t have his sort as Wingleaders or Wingseconds at High Reaches. They lose a weyrmate and they fall apart.’

‘Eh?’ T’sum obviously didn’t get his meaning.

‘Well, if your weyrmate’s a woman from the Lower Caverns she’s going to be safe enough during Threadfall. And queen riders don’t get hit very often. But greens… greens die all the time.’

D’gar had never wanted to hurt anyone as badly as he wanted to hurt F’drun right then. Even Herebeth felt it.

Are you all right, he asked worriedly. Is that man upsetting you? I can bite his dragon again if you like.

No, don’t. It’s fine. Somehow, he managed not show how he felt. He forced a laugh. ‘All the more reason to enjoy life while you can.’

F’drun carried on with putting the flamethrower together as if nothing untoward had been said. ‘Now, this safety cut-out is vital. If it malfunctions, you could accidentally flame off your own dragon’s head when you’re swapping the wand from one hand to the other.’

T’sum winced. ‘Has that ever happened?’

‘A long time ago…’ He started on the warning tale everyone knew. F’drun seemed at his best when recounting gruesome stories.

D’gar concentrated on reassembling the other wand. Maybe he could find something on F’drun. Dig deep enough and you can find dirt on anyone, he thought. If he couldn’t find it in the records, he’d have to ask around. He was slightly disgusted at himself for even thinking that way.

‘… and her neck was burned almost down to the bone. Dead before she could go between, dead before she even hit the ground.’ To emphasise his point F’drun stood, holding the wand aloft. A gout of flame burst from the nozzle. He must have dialled it to maximum. The sudden roar and residual heat made D’gar flinch.

Injured coming in, Herebeth warned. D’gar looked up to see a blue favouring a wing - although still flying, albeit unsteadily - and a green with no obvious scores, but whose rider was slumped over his dragon’s neck. For a second, his heart skipped a beat, then he realised the dragon was a far darker shade of green than Rioth.

Get alongside that blue in case he needs support, he sent back, almost unnecessarily as Herebeth had already taken off. ‘F’drun. We need Ryth to assist.’

He glanced up and a few moments later Ryth flopped lazily from the rim into a glide. Herebeth had already manoeuvred into position, alongside the foundering blue’s right flank. Ryth took the opposite side and together they helped take the dragon’s weight, allowing him to make an untidy - but safe - landing.

D’gar started running towards the green, who had landed unaided. She was shrieking in distress and wouldn’t let the healers close enough to get to her rider.

Talk to her, Herebeth. Calm her down. Tell her he’s going to be all right, but we need to get him off.

I am trying. She is very upset, though.

The green seemed uninjured. The blood streaking down her left shoulder was bright red; the rider’s, not her own. Meanwhile, the blue dragon was being calmed by his rider and pails of numbweed were on the way, so that one could be safely left for the moment.

‘Can you get him down?’ one of the healers asked, anxiously.

‘I’m going to, once the dragon settles.’

T’sum had come over too. ‘Need a hand?’

F’drun was still fiddling with the flamethrowers and didn’t seem inclined to help. Best to let him be, then. ‘I’ll get up and undo the straps. If you could be ready to catch him.’

Is she all right, Herebeth? I’m going to have to climb up.

I have told her you are here to help. She cannot hear her rider. She is worried.

Hold her steady for me. If the man died while he was up there and his dragon went between, he’d not stand a chance. Still, it had to be done.

He scrambled up the side of the dragon and got himself behind the rider, quickly unfastening his safety straps. He didn’t know if the man could hear him, but he talked anyway. ‘You’ll be fine. We just need to get you off here so the healers can take a look at you.’ The reek of blood was bringing back all kinds of unwanted memories. He forced himself to concentrate on the present and managed get the man's leg over his dragon’s neck, then supported him as T’sum and two others took his weight and got him to the ground. They carried him swiftly away into the infirmary.

Tell her well done. Tell her they’re going to look after him. As he slid down, the dragon turned her head to look at him, eyes whirling yellow with anxiety. He wished he could do more to reassure her. It was much easier when you had a queen dragon available; their authority always calmed dragons much more effectively than could a brown or even a bronze.

He started over towards the blue dragon to see how they were doing.

‘Are you all right?’

He turned to see Bavi, concern written on her face.

‘Me? Yes, why?’ It was only as she looked him up and down that he realised there was blood on his hands. On his clothes too. Just like that day. He froze in panic, his heart starting to race.

She seemed to understand, taking him by the arm and leading him over to the pump. ’Come on, now, let’s get you cleaned up.’ Her voice was calm, practical, like a mother whose child has fallen in some mud. She filled a bucket. ‘Wash off what you can. Then drop those clothes off at the laundry later and I’ll get them done for you.’

‘Thanks. Blood gets everywhere, doesn’t it? Didn’t even think about that. You don’t do you, when it’s an emergency.’ He was talking too fast, trying to stop his brain from processing all the dreadful connections. He couldn’t let this get to him. Not with F’drun only a short distance away probably just waiting for him to show some sign of weakness. The cold water helped, as did a couple of deep breaths.

‘Fall must be almost over by now,’ Bavi said. ‘Let’s hope that’s the last of the casualties.’

‘There’ll be a few drop in on the way back, just to get minor scores or burns numbed.’ He was beginning to feel calmer, or at least, more in control.

T’sum emerged from the infirmary doorway. ‘There you are. Think he’s going to make it. The healers have managed to stop the bleeding, anyway.’ He crouched down to wash his own hands, which were almost as bloody as D’gar’s had been.

‘Good.’

‘Those stories you two were telling earlier… is it really that bad?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘When Munth got scored I felt terrible. Blamed myself. Wondered if I could have done anything differently.’

‘Everyone feels like that. It’s natural. The good thing is that Munth will heal faster than you would and he’ll forget about it. It’s not so easy for us. Come on, let’s have a look at this blue.’

They watched as one of the dragon healers carefully stitched together the torn wingsail, using fabric to support the areas that had been eaten away by Thread. Now that he couldn’t feel any pain, the blue was calm; even interested in the procedure.

D’gar found the process fascinating; the slow reconstruction of the tattered skin and the careful, methodical work by the dragon healer.

‘Not so bad when it’s someone else’s dragon,’ T’sum commented. ‘When Munth was having his wing done I was wincing at every stitch, even though he was numbed.’

Suddenly there was a shadow overhead and a blast of icy air bringing with it the stench of firestone. Two of the Wings had returned. All of the Lower Cavern workers looked up, clapping and cheering.

‘Do they always do that?’ D’gar asked.

‘Well, they have every time so far.’

‘You can’t hear, from up there.’ He wasn’t sure if they did it at Fort, or if this was also something that only happened here at Benden, where Threadfall was still a new and unusual event to be marked. Still, it was a gesture he approved of, so he joined in. Each time a Wing emerged from between, everyone on the ground showed their appreciation of the dragons and riders. When the golden queens came by, he cheered even louder, especially when he spotted Rioth and H’rek. Herebeth joined in, bugling and flapping his wings.

As he’d predicted, a few dragons landed nearby. He carried pails of numbweed across as the healers gave each man and dragon a check, then helped apply the salve where necessary. He’d just finished slathering it on to a brown dragon’s foreleg, when someone grabbed him and swung him round into a hug.

It was H’rek. He smelled of firestone and charred Thread. His hair was spiky with sweat. ‘It was amazing. Rioth flamed this big clump that had got through…’

D’gar barely heard a word he said. Having him back safe was such a relief. It was like letting out a breath you’d been unaware you were holding.

‘Then there was this other tangle we had to chase down.’ H’rek moved back and demonstrated the manoeuvre with his hands.

D’gar nodded, encouraging him to go on.

‘And…’ H’rek’s expression changed. ‘You’ve got blood all over you.’

‘I know. It’s not mine. I helped get an injured man off his dragon.’

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

‘Fine, honestly. Why don’t we go and get cleaned up and you can tell me the rest. We’re about finished here.’ He called Herebeth down from the heights.

‘H’rek!’ Bavi was on her way over. ‘Well done.’

‘That’s what Lessa said as well…’ He started showing her the moves Rioth had made while D’gar mounted up. Suddenly he became aware he was being watched. F’drun was loading his tools back onto Ryth’s harness and staring at him - at them both - with an unfathomable expression. It brought back the sense of unease he had been feeling all day. Nothing had happened, this time, but next time they might not be so lucky.