Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 24. New Wingmates

‘So, the upshot is that around half of T’bor’s Wing will be going down south with him and the rest will be distributed among the remaining Wings, filling in the gaps where we have men or dragons out with injuries.’ R’feem paused to let the news sink in. He’d only just emerged from a Wingleader’s meeting and had summoned B’lin and D’gar to his weyr for a briefing. D’gar never remembered there being so many meetings at Fort. Maybe it was another modern thing, or just the way Benden operated.

When the official announcement had been made the previous evening, they hadn’t gone into too much detail, simply stating what D’gar had already found out earlier from H’rek and mentioning that some of T’bor’s Wing would also be assisting with the clearance at Southern.

‘That means that as we currently have two spaces due to M’rell and F’drun’s dragons being injured, we’ll be having two Benden pairs joining us.’

‘How’s that going to work?’ B’lin asked. ‘Their dragons are so much larger. We’ll have to alter all the spacing. They won’t be able to turn as tightly, either.’

‘Actually, there’s less of a difference than you’d expect.’ D’gar hadn’t mentioned flying with F’nor but they’d probably assume he was making comparisons between Herebeth and Rioth. ‘The main issue we’ll have with anyone from Benden is the same as if we were bringing in weyrlings; lack of fighting experience. That can be overcome by drilling and training.’

R’feem gave him a nod. ‘My thoughts too. I’ve been asking for more integration and now we’ve got it, so the last thing we should do is to start complaining. Anyway, we wrangled it out this morning and I’ve managed to get us a blue and a brown. Would have preferred another blue or a green, really, but there weren’t enough to go around. Anyway, they’ll be joining us this afternoon when we fly over tomorrow’s Threadfall area.’

‘North of Bitra, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, then over the mountains and into Lemos. More forests, I’m afraid. Plus, we’re on clean up duty afterwards with the ground crews.’

D’gar’s heart sank. Ground duty anywhere was bad, but among trees it could be a nightmare. ‘Anything else we should know?’

‘They’ll be embarking on this southern project the day after tomorrow. We may be asked to help ferry materials and people down there. In addition to Prideth’s clutch and T’bor’s Wing, they’re also sending some of the injured men and dragons. Dragons who can fly, obviously and men who are recuperating but able to handle light work.’ R’feem’s curt tone showed what he thought of that notion.

D’gar stared at the floor, not daring to say anything. Hopefully they would think it was another Benden idea.

B’lin spoke up. ‘They’re really scraping the barrel, aren’t they?’

‘Seems like it. But it’s the Weyrleader’s pet project so who are we to argue. Of course, it means we’ll be losing F’drun and M’rell for a time as both are deemed fit enough for the job.’

‘Is Ryth up to it?’ B’lin asked.

‘I saw him flying round the Bowl yesterday, so presumably, yes.’ D’gar’s mind was whirling. It was good to be rid of F’drun, at least for a while. But H’rek would be there too. F’drun knew he and H’rek were weyrmates. What might he do?’ H’rek had been distressed enough at the thought of separation; they’d spent most of the evening talking through it. More problems, just when it seemed life had settled into a smooth glide.

‘You seem concerned,’ R’feem said. Trust him to notice. ‘I’d have thought you’d have been glad to see F’drun safely away from here.’

‘Well, yes. Except that H’rek’s being sent too.’

‘Ah.’ R’feem gave a kindly smile. ‘They’ll be kept well occupied. I doubt F’drun will have any time for tricks. Anyway, your weyrmate is a sensible lad.’

D’gar didn’t quite understand his meaning. H’rek was certainly sensible enough to avoid F’drun, but if F’drun decided to target him in some way, then what could he do? No one had eyes in the back of their head. You couldn’t be on the alert all the time.

‘So we’ll meet up again at lunch. D’gar, would you take care of our new wingmates? You seem to have a way with Benden folk.’

‘Sure.’ What exactly did he mean by that? D’gar found himself getting edgy. Calm down, he told himself. He’s probably just referring to your relationship with H’rek.

‘Right. See you later,’ B’lin said. ‘Ondiath wants to eat.’

D’gar made to follow him out when R’feem stopped him with a hand on his arm. ‘Try not to worry too much, eh?’

‘Well…’ It was easy to say, not so easy to do.

‘Being apart from someone is never pleasant.’ R’feem spoke from personal experience, as he only got the chance to visit his weyrmate at Fort around once every sevenday.

‘No. But I’ll be fine.’

‘Good. Wouldn’t want to see it affecting your work. You’re doing a good job as Wingsecond.’

He returned to his weyr, noticing that some of the Lower Caverns staff had already begun to pile up various pieces of kitchen equipment under one of the covered storage areas. They must be really fed up, he thought. It had only come back a short while ago.

He settled down to do some admin. R’feem had asked him to make a list of the number of injured men and dragons during each Threadfall over the last three Turns of the previous Pass. Apparently Benden were trying to make some estimates as to how many casualties they could expect over a Turn and thus work out how long it would be before they were self-sufficient again. At least they had two queen dragons of breeding age now. Even if Prideth’s next clutch contained a gold egg, it would be a good two to three Turns before the young dragon would be mature enough to rise. Still, if Prideth and Ramoth continued to lay large clutches the numbers would soon go up.

Strident shrieking from outside brought him out of his musing. It wasn’t Kylara again; even she couldn’t be that loud.

What’s going on? he asked Herebeth.

Two greens are about to rise. One of them thinks the other is trying to steal her suitors.

Greens weren’t usually jealous. That was more like gold behaviour. He got up, stretched and went to have a look.

The pair of dragons were scolding each other like fishwives. Several browns and blues were perched on the rim, waiting for them to decide to fly. Three of them were smaller and stockier than the rest. He recognised Lanralth from Igen. The other two were from W’lir’s Wing.

Solarth and Zeylenth do not like each other. Their riders feel the same. Herebeth sounded amused.

Aren’t they clutchmates of Rioth?

That’s right. They were left behind this morning as they were too close to rising.

The noise echoed around the Bowl. Quite a few other dragons and their riders were peering from weyr openings to see what all the fuss was about. Even Ramoth’s great golden head emerged from her weyr, with the diminutive figure of Lessa alongside. Evidently, their racket disturbed the Weyrwoman and her dragon, for Ramoth clearly ordered the argument to cease. Both greens fell silent, shaking their heads from the intensity of the command issued by the queen. Then, after a few moments, one took off, followed by a flurry of male dragons. The other waited, clearly not of her own volition, until Ramoth released her and she also took to the sky with more suitors in hot pursuit. The normal sounds of the Weyr resumed, while the waiting riders dashed into the flight cave.

D’gar went back inside, wondering if Lanralth would catch one of the Benden greens. If he did, they’d be a pair down this afternoon, which would mean more shuffling about to balance the Wing dragons.

He returned to the desk. After all the hubbub, the weyr seemed very quiet. It was no different than on any other day when he’d been working alone, yet this morning the silence seemed to foreshadow all the future days when he’d not be interrupted by the scrape of talons as Rioth landed on the ledge, or H’rek returned from a drill or patrol. How quickly he’d become used to sharing a weyr again and having H’rek in his life.

Why had he even come up with that stupid idea about sending the injured men down south to help out? Given a bit of thought, he might have guessed they would also send Prideth’s first clutch back to the place they were so familiar with. Now, all he had managed to achieve was to put a source of potential danger in H’rek’s way. If anything happened, he would be to blame.

Why do you worry so much? Rioth will look after him.

If only I could share your confidence. Rioth couldn’t be there all the time. What if F’drun lured H’rek into that jungle? Who knows what creatures might be lurking, ready to pounce on the unwary? Yes, but H’rek had managed to stay alive there for nearly two Turns. He’d be more attuned to its dangers. It was much more likely that F’drun would get attacked if he tried something like that.

Poison, then. His imagination provided images of F’drun slipping some noxious substance into H’rek’s klah when he wasn’t looking. The sensible part of his mind knew that this was extremely unlikely but that didn’t stop him worrying. He’d worry every day until H’rek returned safe and sound. The only way to cope would be to deal with it the same way he always did; to immerse himself in work.

He met the rest of the Wing in the dining hall, snatching a couple of meat rolls and a mug of klah. He could have got the same delivered to the weyr, but R’feem liked the Wing to eat together whenever possible. Today, everyone was there; F’drun included, although he made a point to avoid any eye contact with D’gar. M’rell, however, didn’t. He sat down in the next space and immediately began telling D’gar how crazy it was that he was about to be sent to the southern wilderness.

‘You were only saying yesterday you fancied some sunshine and sea. There’s plenty of that down south.’

‘Yes, but from what I’ve heard it’s more likely they’ll have us hacking down trees and clearing greenery.’

‘Toth will be able to enjoy lounging around in the ocean.’

‘Well, I suppose there is that,’ he conceded grudgingly. ‘Wish I knew who’d come up with such a stupid idea though. I’d give him a piece of my mind.’

‘Blame the Benden lot for that.’ Hypocrite, he thought, even as he spoke. ‘Still, might not be so bad. They can’t work you non-stop so you’re bound to get some time to yourself. And it really is a beautiful beach.’

Just then, R’feem beckoned him over, enabling him to avoid any further questions. Beside him were two riders wearing Benden shoulder knots. ‘Thought I’d introduce you to our new wing riders. M’ten of brown Gimelth and N’bras of blue Genlorth.’

N’bras looked familiar. He wasn’t much older than H’rek. ‘Have we met before?’ D’gar asked, trying to place him.

‘In the infirmary,’ he supplied. ‘You got my weyrmate down from his dragon when he was injured.’

Ah, that was it. ‘How is he?’

‘Still weak, but on the mend.’

‘Good to hear that. And glad you’re joining our Wing.’

M’ten was a lot older, probably nearer to R’feem’s age. They shook hands briefly.

‘Well, if you’d like to take N’bras under your wing, so to speak, I’ll let B’lin look after M’ten,’ R’feem said.

‘Fine.’ D’gar led N’bras back to his end of the table, where M’rell was loudly complaining to V’chal and J’rud about his new posting.

N’bras seemed shy, or maybe he was just overwhelmed to have landed among a whole load of unfamiliar riders. D’gar did his best to make him feel at ease, introducing him to those closest. V’chal latched on to him at once; he always did when someone new joined the Wing.

‘He’s got a weyrmate, you know.’ D’gar thought he should point that out to forestall any unwanted attention.

‘Really?’ V’chal said. ‘It doesn’t do to settle down too young, you know,’ he told N’bras. ‘Good looking young man like you should keep your options open. You never know what might come along.’

‘Like you, you mean.’ J’rud commented. ‘Lilith’s not even proddy so you’ve no excuse. Talking of which, did you hear those two greens this morning?’

‘Oh, that was Solarth and Zeylenth,’ N’bras said. ‘They hate each other.’

‘My dragon said that too.’ D’gar thought it might encourage him to talk. ‘Any idea why?’

‘Well, when we were down south, they both took a shine to Izaeth. But he didn’t chase either of them. And he flew an old timer green when Prideth rose this time, so he definitely wouldn’t have been interested today.’

D’gar noticed how everyone reacted to the unwanted name. ‘Er, you might want to change your terminology now you’ll be flying with us. We’re not fond of being called “old timers”.’

‘Yeah.’ J’rud said. ‘Makes it sound like we’re all ancient. I’m only twenty-three and so is D’gar here. V’chal might be pushing it a bit, but he’s not decrepit yet.’

V’chal made a face at that.

‘So, what do you call yourselves, then?’

‘We tend to refer to ourselves by the name of the Weyr we’re from. So us lot are Fort riders.’ M’rell pointed across the table. ‘They’re from Igen and those at the end are from High Reaches. You can easily tell who’s from where from our shoulder knots.’

‘Collectively we say we’re from the five Weyrs,’ D’gar added helpfully.

‘Five Weyrs,’ N’bras said. ‘That’s short enough. Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just what everyone here says.’

‘Not a problem.’ J’rud said. ‘If you didn’t know.’

‘So, er, how long have you all been fighting Thread?’

‘Five Turns for J’rud and myself. We graduated to the Wings at the same time.’ It seemed far longer, D’gar thought.

‘Eight Turns,’ said V’chal at almost the same time as M’rell said, ‘Nearly six.’

‘Five Falls,’ N’bras said with a wry shrug. ‘So I’m still new to it all. It doesn’t really compare to the exercises we practised when we were weyrlings.’

‘No.’ J’rud grinned wickedly. ‘Bits of wool or whatever won’t eat you alive.’

N’bras seemed uncomfortable, D’gar thought. ‘Steady, lads. His weyrmate was injured quite badly recently.’

‘Sorry about that,’ J’rud offered.

‘You couldn’t have known. It was a shock, though. We’re in different Wings so I didn’t even know anything was wrong until afterwards.’

‘That’s for the best,’ M’rell said, very matter of factly. ‘You don’t want to find out someone you care about has copped it in the middle of Fall. Very distracting.’

‘Even when you are in the same Wing, you don’t always find out until later.’ D’gar spoke from experience. ‘Especially if visibility is poor.’ He could tell by his wingmates expressions they knew exactly which incident he was referring to.

‘And we lost so many that day, you’d no way of telling it was him.’ M’rell shook his head sadly. ‘Bad one, that.’

‘Right. I’m going to get a refill of klah.’ D’gar got up from the table. That way they could fill in the rest of the gruesome tale to a puzzled looking N’bras while he was out of the way. It reminded him of the stories he and F’drun had swapped on the day they were on support duty, when they had been winding up T’sum. Doubtless M’ten would be getting a similar initiation with the Igen riders. In a few Turns, weyrlings joining the Benden Wings would go through the same treatment, as he and S’brin had done when they graduated to R’feem’s Wing. Part of the process, really.

By the time he returned, they’d moved on to some other Threadfall tales. ‘…so the only thing they could do was to take his whole leg off.’ J’rud finished.

‘That old one.’ D’gar sat back down.

‘Is it true?’ N’bras asked.

D’gar sipped his klah. ‘They’re trying to shock you.’ And judging by his expression, succeeding. ‘But it's all happened at one time or another.’

At the far end of the table, R’feem had finished. On his way out he tapped D’gar’s shoulder. ‘Give everyone time to digest their food, then get them to form up.’

‘Sure.’

‘Do we have an inspection?’ N’bras asked. ’T’bor was never that bothered but I know R’gul’s Wing do.’

‘Inspection of what?’ V’chal asked.

‘Well, to see if everything’s in order.’

‘That’s up to you. Check your own straps before every flight and make sure you have everything you’ll need, whether it’s for Fall or a routine patrol. If anything extra’s wanted, one of us will pass the information on.’ D’gar thought he should fill in a bit more while he drank his klah. ‘Now I don’t know how T’bor co-ordinated Fall, but I can tell you how we do it.’

N’bras nodded eagerly. The others got up to leave; they’d heard all this before. ‘See you later,’ M’rell said.

‘We usually fly in a standard V formation for take-off and when we go between. Once R’feem’s been to the Wingleader’s meeting and heard the weather report, he’ll decide what patterns we’ll fly during Fall although once we’re up there, it’ll sometimes change. Depends on conditions, the way Thread’s falling and the like. Usually, Piroth gives the instruction to Herebeth and Ondiath, then we’ll pass it along to the dragons in our section. Same with firestone replacement. Once you’re down to your last bag, you’ll get - Genlorth, is it?’

He nodded.

‘…to inform Herebeth. I’ll co-ordinate supplies and let you know when they’re on the way. Any problems, let me know. In the air we’ll use standard hand signals, unless the visibility is really low, when it’ll all be down to dragons passing along messages. You’ll be alongside me today so I can see how you’re flying. We do tend to keep a tighter formation than most of the Benden Wings, I’ve noticed.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Less Thread gets through. Plus, if everyone knows exactly what they’re going for, there’s less chance of flaming each other by accident. You’ll have a fair idea by now of how big a clump Genlorth can destroy on his own.’

‘Sure.’

‘So if it’s larger than that, leave it to me, or one of the other browns or bronzes. Your job is to get rid of anything we’d find hard to reach. That’s why we usually fly a brown or bronze flanked by a blue and green. Sometimes two greens or two blues, depending on what’s available. They can turn on a pin and get to stuff that we’d struggle to manage.’

His eyes were starting to glaze over from too much information.

‘It sounds more complicated than it is. Don’t fret too much. It’ll become obvious once we’re flying.’

‘I just don’t want to mess up.’

‘After five Falls? Everyone messes up. That’s how you learn.’ So long as it doesn’t kill you and your dragon, he added silently. ‘Anyway, it’s just a routine patrol today, to familiarise ourselves with the area. You’ll get an idea how we fly and if there are any problems, I’ll let you know.’ He finished his klah. ‘Right, I’m off now. See you soon. We’ll be forming up on the landing area.’

Back in the weyr, he checked over the fighting straps, remembering the nervousness of being new to the Wings. Worrying about making some stupid mistake and having everyone laugh at you was almost worse than the natural fear of being eaten by Thread. He’d thrown up before almost every patrol for the first sevenday. Threadfall had been so much more chaotic than he’d imagined, too; a very long way from the disciplined exercises they’d practiced with the Weyrlingmaster. They’d been delivering replacement firestone for a good half a Turn before graduating, so they’d seen Thread up close, but even that didn’t prepare you entirely for being in the thick of it.

We have a new wingmate today, he told Herebeth. Watch out for Genlorth and if you notice anything off that I don’t, let him know.

Will do. Herebeth crouched to let him slip on the neck strap. I think the strap on my right side needs loosening. It feels a little too tight.

You’re getting fat.

I am not fat. That’s muscle. I had lost some when we were not fighting Thread.

Me too. Now I’ll be getting back into shape again. The exercise helped. H’rek would probably put on some muscle too, if he ended up doing a lot of physical work down in Southern.

Will Rioth be away for long? Herebeth queried. Why must she leave?

She’s being sent to her old Weyr. Only for a short while, though.

I will miss her.

And I’ll miss H’rek. But they’ll be back again. Putting on a brave face for his dragon helped to bring it into perspective. It was a temporary disruption, that’s all.

With Herebeth ready, he went to get his wherhide gear. He needed some new gloves, he remembered, one of his having been damaged by a close encounter with partially drowned thread two Falls ago. He kept forgetting about that until he needed them again. Well, there was no time to deal with that now, but later on he’d go to the stores and get another pair.

By the time he got down to the landing area, a few of the Wing had assembled, the Benden pairs among them. Keen to impress, he thought. Genlorth was a lightweight blue. He looked as if he would be speedy, D’gar thought, although maybe lacking in stamina. By contrast, Gimelth was a fairly stocky brown by modern standards; smaller than Canth but still towering above Herebeth.

‘Do you know the area we’re flying today?’ he asked M’ten. Although he’d been in Southern with T’bor, his age meant that he must have Impressed and trained at Benden.

M’ten nodded. ‘It’s hilly, the Bitra side. Rough pastures mostly, lots of ovines and caprines. A few isolated farm holds. Then once we cross the mountain range into Lemos, it’s coniferous forest for kilometres with a couple of logging camps. The men there are pretty good ground crew.’

‘Excellent. Can you get a dragon down to land easily?’

‘Some of it, where the trees aren’t too close.’

‘Better not let any Thread through, then.’

More dragons were arriving. Today, the full complement would be flying; all of the blues and greens who would take shifts during Threadfall proper; twenty-six dragons in all. Normally, no one bothered to watch them assemble, but today there were a few onlookers, possibly due to the presence of the Benden dragons.

R’feem noticed too. ‘We’ve got an audience,’ he said as he passed. ‘Let’s keep a tight formation taking off and show them what we can do.’

‘Sure.’ How long would it take before they were regarded as just another Wing, not some sort of novelty act, like the jugglers or acrobats you saw at a Gather?

They did take off fairly smoothly and the transfer between was faultless, but as soon as they started to try out a few manoeuvres; direction changes and formation re-shuffles, the Benden dragons began to show their inexperience. The whole Wing had been a little ragged when they first got together, but after all the practice, they now flew fairly seamlessly. For the two Benden riders, the style of flying was different enough that they ended up either ahead or behind the moves. D’gar had always thought of formation flying as being something like dancing in the air and if that was the case, the Benden pair would be treading on their partner’s toes. At this stage, he wasn’t going to be too hard on N’bras, but they’d need to do some more flying together so that he could better explain exactly what they were aiming for in the various moves.

When they started to simulate actual Threadfall moves; breaking from the pattern to chase down clumps then getting back into position, it fell apart even more.

Ask Piroth if we can break away and practice some moves alone.

Herebeth came back almost right away. Once we’ve gone over the area, you can do whatever you need. Piroth’s rider suggests both the Benden dragons join you.

Tell him we’ll do that.

After that, they flew mostly straight, picking out reference points in the landscape and noting the transition between land that needed protecting and the rocky parts where it would do no harm for Thread to fall unchecked. The forests were vast, D’gar noticed, with a sinking heart. Was the entire Hold covered in trees these days? There were cleared areas too, where mature trees had been felled by loggers, a couple of camps and a sawmill beside a fast-flowing river, where a water wheel provided the driving power for the machinery. Even so high up, the smell of cut wood and fresh sap reached his nose.

Finally, R’feem gave the order to return to the Weyr and the rest of the Wing flew on, disappearing between, leaving just the four of them to practice the drills.

Tell Ondiath we will practise the Threadfighting moves. In his case, he had N’bras and Genlorth break away then return to position. For the other pair, Ondiath played the blue’s role, relying on M’ten to be aware where in the sky he would be coming back. It was obvious that both Benden dragons, while keen, were used to the more informal style of fighting Thread used by their Wing; well, they’d soon get out of that. They’d probably find the more disciplined method left both themselves and their dragons less tired by the end of a Fall once they became used to it.

By the time he was back at the Weyr, he felt drained. Not so much from the physical effort as from having to watch and correct N’bras. During Threadfall, you had to be conscious not just of yourself, but of all the other pairs in the section. D’gar had never before realised how much you relied on others knowing their own roles and positions. He remembered when he’d been new to the Wing and his own mentor, I’grast, had taught him all the moves and kept an eye on him through those first few Falls. How patient he’d been. How effortless he’d made it seem. Now he appreciated the work that had gone in to training someone just out of the weyrling Wing to ensure he and his dragon became effective fighters.

‘I was rubbish,’ N’bras sounded disconsolate as they dismounted from their dragons. When he removed his flying hat, his hair was plastered down with sweat.

‘You weren’t any worse than I was when I joined the Wing. Don’t worry. You’ll soon get the hang of it. What we’ll do tomorrow is put you in for an hour or so, then do a swap out.’ After that amount of time, they’d be too tired to learn any more. ‘Then over the next few Falls we’ll keep you up there for longer until you’re both accustomed to flying our way.’

‘So, is how I’ve been taught wrong, then?’

‘Not wrong, exactly. Just not so effective. Remember, we’ve been doing this for fifty Turns. I expect when the Eighth Pass first started, we were just the same.’ Full of enthusiasm, but short on technique. ‘Remember, the object is to sear Thread with the least amount of effort, the maximum efficiency and without getting yourself or your dragon scored. No-one learns all that overnight.’