Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 25. Arguments

‘Thread’s definitely been falling down south.’ H’rek had returned to their weyr, tired and grubby from his reconnaissance trip. ‘We’d been sent to track down herdbeasts that had escaped from the plateau and we landed close to this watering hole. There was a carcass there; well, half of one, to be precise. Looked like the poor beast had been caught by Thread but managed to get itself into the water before it was totally devoured. Strange thing was, there were quite a few bushes around the shore, but they’d not been touched.’

‘Maybe the beast had dragged itself a fair way before it collapsed and died?’ D’gar suggested. ‘Or maybe it only got caught by the trailing edge of Fall?’

‘It’s a possibility. But then, why was it only only half-consumed? Thread doesn’t stop once it begins to feed unless it’s drowned or you can get between to freeze it. So, unless herd beasts have independently developed the ability, I don’t see how that would work.’

‘No, you’re right. It’s a mystery. Going to make things a bit trickier, isn’t it? I mean, you aren’t going to be able to live out in the open if Thread falls as regularly and heavily as it does here.’

’T’bor thinks we can. As long as we have enough dragons to fly Fall above the Weyr and the Hold itself we should be all right. Trouble is, we don’t know exactly when it’s going to happen, so we’ll need to keep watch all the time until we figure out the pattern.’

D’gar thought it sounded unnecessarily risky. Long ingrained instinct told him that the only safe place to be when Thread fell was under cover of stone or on the back of a flaming dragon. ’What about firestone?’

‘One of the other groups found a large deposit that can be mined. The Holders will do that for us.’

‘If they can even find anyone crazy enough to go along.’

‘Apparently, they already have. Some of those who were along as support when we were there before are keen to go back; get themselves some land of their own to hold. A few fisherfolk are interested, too.’

‘Rather them than me. Look, you will be careful, won’t you?’ Everything about this project seemed ill-advised and potentially dangerous.

‘Rioth will look after me.’ He sounded very confident. ‘Anyway, the best news is that we won’t be there full time for the first sevenday or so. Not until we’ve cleared enough ground and got some shelters up. Plus, T’bor wants to be certain we don’t get caught out by Threadfall, so only a few pairs will be staying overnight, at least initially.’

‘Well, that’s something.’

‘The time zone is almost the same, so going back and forth won’t be a problem. We’ll leave each morning after breakfast and return in the evenings. So at least I’ll be spending some of the time here. Anyway, how did your day go?’

D’gar shrugged. ‘Not too bad considering I have to babysit a Benden pair through the next few Falls. And we’re on clean up duty in a sharding forest. What’s happening with you during Fall tomorrow?’

‘We’re off south again. The other group will be on supply duty to see how it works out with fewer dragons.’

‘Great. Let’s hope we don’t run out of firestone over all those trees. Although maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. There are far too many of them as it is.’

H’rek looked slightly shocked. ‘You don’t mean that?’

‘Why not? We’re supposed to protect people, beasts and crops, not unnecessary swathes of woodland. Folk managed without all that timber in the past. I’m sure the Lord Holder is concerned for his profits, but when it comes down to it, you can’t eat trees.’

‘So you’d rather just burn them like Fort did to Hivall’s orchard?’ H’rek’s tone was sharp.

D’gar felt a need to defend his home Weyr’s riders. ’If that wasn’t an exaggeration. We only heard one side of the story.’

‘My family don’t lie.’

‘And my weyrfolk don’t do things without good reason. If your uncle -‘

‘My father,’ H’rek corrected.

‘Ah.’ So that was why he was so defensive. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know. So he was the one…’

‘Who looked after the farm. And, apparently, my mother.’

‘Still a holder, though. I’d take weyrfolks word over holders any day.’ H’rek was bound to side with the people who had raised him. Didn’t mean it was right, though.

‘Weyrfolk aren’t perfect, either. You’ve said so yourself. Impressing a dragon doesn’t make someone a better person.’

‘Well, no.’ He did have a point there. D’gar wouldn’t necessarily trust, say, F’drun’s word over a holder’s. But it was the principle of the thing.

‘You wouldn’t do something like that, anyway.’ H’rek seemed determined to push the issue.

‘How do you know?’ He remembered the encounter with those obnoxious fisherfolk, just after they arrived. ‘Holders have to respect dragonriders. Give us what we’re due. I heard about F’lar seizing all the Lord Holder’s wives when they turned up outside this Weyr with unreasonable demands. Should he have just let them walk all over him?’

‘Of course not.’ H’rek conceded. ‘But that’s different. They forced his hand. They were the aggressors in that instance.’

‘Well, if your uncle - sorry, father - had just given those dragonriders a few beasts, they’d have let their dragons feed and gone on their way. No harm done.’

H’rek shook his head. ‘My father gives his portion of the tithe to his Lord and he sends it to the Weyr. They’ve no right to ask for extra, as and when they feel like it. It might have been the way things worked in the past, but this is now.’ He sighed. ‘I thought you understood all that.’

D’gar didn’t want to argue with him, but he didn’t want to give in either. ‘I understand about four hundred Turns without Thread and people not wanting to believe it would come back. I understand about modern folks’ attitudes to the Weyr, before the Pass began. But now they need our protection and they should be as generous as they were in the past. We risk our lives for them while they hide behind stone walls.’

‘And I’m sure they appreciate that. Doesn’t mean they should have to grovel and give in to every whim. Someone told me that there have been a few instances of dragonriders demanding things that definitely don’t come under the remit of tithes. Craft items; jewellery and such.’

‘And…?’ In the past, if a dragonrider admired an item, craftsmen would always gift it to them.

‘Well, that’s plain wrong. It’s no better than stealing. No-one from Benden would even think of doing it. But you folk -‘

‘Us “old timers”. Is that what you were going to say?’ He really didn’t like the way this was going.

‘No,’ H’rek protested. ‘I don’t like that name either.’

D’gar felt irritated. ‘Have they been filling your head with nonsense all day today?’

‘We’ve just been talking, that’s all. And it made me think. When we were at Fort and I was chatting to those green riders they said some things I didn’t really agree with.’

‘You didn’t say anything when we got back.’

‘I didn’t want to upset you.’

‘And you do now?’

‘No! Just -‘ He broke off. ‘This is stupid. I don’t want to argue with you. I’m tired. You’re fed up. Why don’t we leave it?’

D’gar didn’t feel like leaving it. It was important that H’rek understood why he felt the way he did. Why Benden weren’t right about everything. ‘Not everything is black and white,’ he said. ‘Not all change is for the good. It’s about time these modern Holders realised what they owe us. We didn’t ask to come forward, so why should it be us who have to accept the way things are these days?’

H’rek shook his head. ‘If you think someone’s been filling my head with nonsense, I could ask the same of you.’ He jumped to his feet. ‘Shells! I’ve had enough of this. I’m off to find better company.’

‘What, your wingmates? You can’t even stand being with them most of the time?’

‘Why not? Maybe they’re right about you. Maybe I shouldn’t be hanging around with someone who’s four hundred Turns old and has his mind stuck in the past.’

‘Fine then.’ Even as he said the words and he watched H’rek walk out of their weyr, he wanted to call him back. This was stupid, trivial, unnecessary. And yet, it wasn’t right to just shut up for the sake of keeping the peace.

Why is Rioth leaving? Herebeth sounded bemused. They only just returned.

We disagreed. He’ll be back soon. At least, he hoped they would. In all probability H’rek would go and get some food in the dining hall, have a think about the situation and return in time for bed.

Why did you disagree?

Not his dragon as well. It’s complicated.

Humans always are. Rioth is puzzled too. She does not understand why H’rek is upset.

Oh, so he was upset, then. Mind you, D’gar didn’t exactly feel happy himself. It had been the wrong time to start talking about such a complex subject. H’rek was already worried about the southern venture. Was it any surprise his normally placid temperament had been ruffled? He’d not wanted them to be apart and now D’gar’s stubbornness had caused the very thing they both wanted to avoid. ‘Stupid, stupid,’ he muttered to himself.

For a long while, he sat there in the darkening weyr. He should uncover the glow baskets, he knew. Yet, what was the point? The gloom surrounding him was a perfect reflection of his mood. It was the first time he’d had any sort of argument with H’rek. They seemed to agree on most things and when they didn’t, they generally skirted around the topic. Except tonight, he’d been feeling irritable so he’d decided to push it.

He should go down to the dining hall himself and get something to eat. But if H’rek was there, if he’d said something to his clutchmates… D’gar imagined the glances, the muttered comments.

Piroth asks me to ask you if you will be joining the Wing tonight. Herebeth passed on the message.

Tell him we’ll be there shortly. Two could play at that game. He’d go down as if nothing had happened. Have a few drinks. Show them all it didn’t matter.

He woke early the next morning, alone. H’rek hadn’t even glanced his way once, just carried on laughing and talking as if he hadn’t a care in the world. For his part, D’gar had made a point of looking as if he was having an equally good time with his wingmates. The laughter had been forced, but no-one seemed to notice the difference. He’d expected H’rek to come back at some point, but he hadn’t.

D’gar wondered where he’d spent the night. In someone else’s weyr, obviously. He could ask Herebeth to ask Rioth, but he didn’t really want to know the answer.

Thankfully, he’d not drunk too much the previous night, although his churning stomach knew it was Threadfall and was even more aware they’d be on ground duty. Sharding trees! Sharding Holders! If there was a burrow, they’d burn the whole area, rather than risk a dragon and rider investigating. That was how it should be done and damn Benden if they didn’t like it.

By the time he went down for breakfast, the youngsters had already flown off down south. He had the inevitable klah and porridge, which he couldn’t finish. Listened to J’rud’s usual jokes, rolled out now for a new audience. Met up with R’feem and B’lin for a summary of the weather report and expected conditions. Light drizzle and showers. Oh joy! Rain, woods and cloud. It was shaping up to be a shitty day.

‘I’m on support duty again,’ M’rell sighed. ‘And with F’drun. He’s a miserable sod, isn’t he?’

‘Did he wind up the Benden lot last time, telling them gruesome Threadfall stories?’

M’rell shook his head. ‘No. Just sat off on his own with Ryth, except when he was called over to do some work. T’sum’s not a bad sort, though. Had a bit of a laugh with him.’

‘Well, have a good one.’

‘You too.’

N’bras looked nervous. ‘Cheer up,’ D’gar said. ‘It could be worse.’

‘What?’

‘You’re flying with a decent Wing today. We’ll be fine.’ He knew he sounded much more confident than he felt. Herebeth crunched through his supply of firestone and he checked the straps for the last time before mounting up. Once on board, he glanced over towards the assembling Queens’ Wing but of course Rioth wasn’t there. They’d already left for the south. At least H’rek was well away from this one, he thought with a certain degree of relief.

There was no rain yet over Benden Weyr. The sky was a light, milky grey with occasional glimpses of the sun as it struggled to break through. Initially, there was none over Bitra, either, although the cloud cover was thicker and darker. Lower too, shrouding some of the peaks.

Piroth confirms V formations, Herebeth said. At the pre-Fall meeting, R’feem had been told they would be flying the middle levels with two Benden Wings above. In the murk, D’gar only occasionally caught a flash of colour from the dragons in the upper levels. The low cloud partly obscured even those below and only allowed glimpses of the rough terrain dotted with grazing beasts and partitioned by stone walls.

Thread falls, Herebeth announced.

D’gar looked up again, seeing bright gouts of flame amid the grey. He knew that in such poor visibility, the Wings above would be straining to see Thread, so more would get through than in better conditions. He glanced along his section; at the moment, five dragons were visible, although they were in and out of the cloud. Tell our section to be ready and to be sure to keep a good distance between each other in this. That last was more for the benefit of N’bras. The experienced riders knew the necessity for keeping apart when visibility was limited; well clear of a flaming dragon.

The first Thread started to descend; hard to pick out as was always the case in cloud. It seemed to be falling in patchy clumps today. I will take this one, Herebeth announced, going for a partially charred and writhing bunch of Thread, then neatly slotting back into line once it was destroyed. N’bras and Genlorth took out a smaller patch, maybe using a bit more flame than was necessary, but it was well done and they came back to their positions quickly.

All along the line dragons were flaming and the air soon began to thicken with char. Moisture made it stick to everything; hide, clothing and faces. Black, stinking, foul stuff. Dodging in and out of cloud, having to keep a watch both for Thread and for how Genlorth was flying, made the time pass quickly. They’d covered a good deal of ground and seared a fair amount of Thread when the accident happened.

Zurinth’s rider is scored. So is Zurinth.

How badly? As was often the way during Fall, D’gar hadn’t seen it.

They still fly and return to the Weyr.

Good. There was nothing else to be done. Losing concentration through worrying about a friend and his dragon was a sure way to end up on the casualty list yourself. He put it to the back of his mind and carried on with the job. Genlorth had started off tidily, but was finding it harder to keep with the formation as Thread fell more thickly. The upper levels weren’t doing a bad job, but they couldn’t catch everything and what they didn’t sear twisted erratically in the disturbed air. Herebeth went for one clump to his right, while Genlorth flew higher to catch another. Typical Benden tactic, D’gar thought, rising unnecessarily to meet what would fall closer to you if you gave it a few more moments. He made a mental note to tell N’bras about that in the after-Fall meeting, leavened, of course, with praise for what he’d done right. He wasn’t doing too badly, for a novice -

The thought was cut off by a sudden glimpse from the corner of his eye of a blue hide just above him, descending rapidly. Herebeth spotted it too and blinked between although not before something caught D’gar hard on the right shoulder. Not Thread; it was too heavy for that. The fighting straps strained, but held him in place. They re-emerged in line; Herebeth had a good sense of his surroundings and nearly always brought them back to the correct place. Genlorth was still far too close. He could see the expression of horror on N’bras’s face.

Tell him to sharding well be more careful next time. They nearly took us out. At least they’d not been flaming at the time or it could have been much worse. D’gar’s right arm felt slightly tingly and his shoulder throbbed. It still worked though.

You are hurt?

Yes, but I’ll live. We’ll carry on. He was still able to pick up a chunk of firestone and throw it to Herebeth’s waiting jaws, so the injury wasn’t too bad. As the Fall continued, though, it became a dull ache that intensified with each movement. He nearly dropped one of the replacement sacks that was thrown to him and his fingers fumbled as he struggled to secure it to the straps.

Half way through, he sent N’bras back to the Weyr, along with a couple of greens and was relieved when V’chal and Lilith took his place. They were across the mountains by then; the cloud had thickened and the damp turned to a thin but consistent drizzle. Down below now were the tops of trees, dark and dismal as the skies, the Queens’ Wing skimming just above them to try and stop any remaining Thread from getting among those close-packed conifers.

The rain made the last part of Fall even more miserable. Towards the end, when water had trickled half way down his back and his shoulder was starting to protest still further at each sudden move Herebeth made, there was a death.

Not in our Wing. Herebeth sounded relieved yet sad. Pralonth from Benden.

He put it to the back of his mind. Piroth tells us we are needed to search for Thread below. The men have lit a fire. Ramoth sends me the co-ordinates. Lilith’s rider has brought sounding rods. Take one other, too.

Just what he needed to end a perfect day. As the trailing edge cleared - but the rain didn’t - he instructed V’chal and G’reden to assist and they made their way back to a poky clearing where a fire burned smokily through foliage. There was just enough room for the three of them to land.

‘Good job we don’t have Benden-sized dragons,’ G’reden commented. ‘You’d only fit two of them down here.’

A man stood over to one side. ‘This way,’ he called, beckoning them over.

‘Any chance of getting a dragon in?’ D’gar asked, just because he should, not that he expected to hear the preferred answer.

The man shook his head grimly. ‘Not a chance. Trees are too close.’

‘We could get the dragons to pull up a few from above,’ V’chal suggested.

D’gar saw the pained expression on the man’s face at the suggestion. ‘Lord Gedenase wouldn’t like that.’

‘He’d like it even less if this whole area was eaten by Thread, wouldn’t he?’ D’gar snapped. Jumping off Herebeth had jarred his shoulder and it hurt as badly now as when the accident first happened. Maybe worse, now that he wasn’t thinking about spotting Thread all the time. He sighed. ‘Let’s have a look, then.’

They followed him along a narrow, winding track. Water dripped from the overhanging branches onto the needle-covered ground. It felt spongy, unstable. No chance of securing a line to your dragon if you couldn’t even get a dragon in here. They would have to be very careful.

Might need you to uproot some trees, he sent to Herebeth. Hope you’re feeling strong.

I do not like you to be on the ground without me when there is Thread around.

Me neither.

They walked for several hundred metres.. D’gar wasn’t sure he’d find his way back alone; a number of tracks criss-crossed and everywhere looked exactly the same.

‘I don’t like this much,’ V’chal said, voicing exactly what D’gar was thinking. ‘How much further?’

‘Couple of minutes. You’ll see it soon enough.’ The woodsman plodded on. ‘We’ve a couple of fellows already there and two more on the way.’

‘I’m hoping you have a flamethrower handy as we can’t get a dragon in.’ Otherwise someone would have to go back to the Weyr to fetch one, wasting more time, while beneath the ground Thread devoured roots and other organic matter, spreading rapidly.

‘Aye. Tafraun has one.’

‘Good.’ D’gar hoped it had plenty of fuel at this end of the Fall. Last thing they wanted was to expose a burrow and have no way of destroying the stuff.

When they reached the site, it was obvious what had happened. The clump had eaten its way down from the canopy to the ground, clearing branches all down one side of a tree. Where it had landed, smoking holes showed the points at which it had gone underground. A young man was standing, peering down at one and poking it with a stick.

‘Hey!’ D’gar called. ‘Get back from there.’

The lad looked up with a puzzled expression. ‘Eh? Why?’

‘You want to get eaten? That ground could collapse under you at any moment.’ He - and the other dragonriders - kept well back. There was no way of telling how far the stuff had spread under the surface from above.

‘You heard him,’ said the man who’d been their guide. ‘Get back. Dragonriders know more about Thread than you do.’

‘Right. Where’s the flamethrower?’

‘Over there.’

It had been cast down in a heap beside one of the trees. D’gar didn’t know if it was one of those they’d brought with them, or whether it had been made in modern times, but it certainly looked four hundred Turns old. It was covered in muck and the wand was battered.

V’chal had unpacked some metal rods and was busy screwing them together. He began poking the ground gingerly to one side of the burrow. ‘Something down here,’ he called, backing up.

‘What’s he doing?’

‘Checking to see how far it’s got. We need to dig near the edge, so we can get to it but it can’t get us. You have shovels?’

‘Aye.’

‘Right. Go get them. V’chal will show you where to start. If he says stop, you stop right away. Got that?’

They all nodded. D’gar was pleased to see they looked suitably frightened. Last thing you needed when uncovering something like this was people with more bravado than common sense. He went over to check out the flamethrower. There seemed to be plenty of fuel in the tank, judging by the weight and the sloshing sound when he lifted it. He turned away from the men and pressed the trigger. No flame came out. He tried a second time, but he could tell there was a problem. The trigger just didn’t feel right. ‘Has this thing actually been working today?’ he asked.

‘Er, no. Well, it worked first off but then it just stopped.’

‘Great.’

‘You want me to go back for one?’ G’reden asked. ‘Or I could get Jekkoth over here. There might be enough space for him to flame.’

‘He’ll just burn branches. Trees are too close together.’ D’gar thought rapidly. It might be as well to get another flamethrower. He could probably get this one working, but if he waited any longer, they’d just be wasting more time. ‘Yes, you go back to the Weyr. Bring two, just in case.’

‘Fine. Er, which way is it back?’

‘Lad’ll show you,’ one of the men said and gestured to the one who had been unwisely poking at the burrow. The two of them disappeared into the trees.

V’chal had found the perimeter. ‘Dig here. Go gently.’

D’gar sat down on a stump, disconnected the wand and started stripping it down. Every movement hurt his shoulder just a bit more. He ignored it. It was probably going to be the safety mechanism that had jammed. Either that, or the trigger had broken. He’d bet a few marks someone had dropped it, or accidentally hit it against a tree. As he worked, he could almost hear Sbrin’s voice, the first time he’d shown D’gar how a flamethrower worked. S’brin, who seemed to be able to work out what was wrong with anything mechanical just by feel and a quick look. Good job he’d had that bit of practice when he’d been on support duty, he thought, to refresh his memory.

He glanced over to where two of the men were digging, V’chal to one side watching carefully as they threw soil onto a growing pile. Water still dripped down all around; unfortunately, it wasn’t in sufficient quantity to drown Thread.

If his right fingers weren’t so numb, he could work faster. They felt something like when you woke up having been lying on your arm. It had to be a result of the blow earlier. When he got back, the healers could take a look. But right now, it was annoying.

‘How’s it going with that?’ V’chal called over.

‘Getting there.’ He wondered if G’reden was back at the Weyr yet. Herebeth, is Jekkoth still with you?

He has just left.

Let me know when he returns.

Are you all right? Lilith is concerned.

She had a right to be. V’chal was closest to the burrow and even with his Turns of experience, it only took one mistake. We’re fine.

He got the mechanism apart at last and there was the problem. A locating pin had snapped, jamming the safety catch on. He pulled it out. The flamethrower would work without it until it could be properly serviced. ‘Found the fault,’ he called out.

‘Good. Think we’re near to uncovering something nasty over here.’

‘Give me a minute or so and we’ll be ready to burn.’

The men were digging even more carefully now, sensibly realising that if a dragonrider was being cautious, it was for good reason. D’gar fitted the wand back together. The clips were tricky with his hand not working properly, but he finally managed. When he depressed the trigger a satisfying jet of flame emerged. ‘Yes! We’re ready.’ Ignoring the pain, he hauled the tank onto his back and went across, keeping well clear as a few final shovels full revealed a tangle of writhing filaments. One of the diggers gasped, covered his face against the stench of it and stepped back instinctively.

Seeing Thread so close was always horrifying. There was something so wrong about it; so alien. Somehow you just knew it didn’t belong in this world, or near anything living. D’gar’s stomach heaved slightly, but there was nothing in there to come up. Good job, really. ‘Get back, everyone,’ he ordered, then when they were safely away, he dialled up the setting to maximum and held down the trigger. Bright, hot flames emerged, searing the Thread. It hissed and crackled as it burned, smelling even worse. The fire travelled along the length of it, like an oil-soaked rope. It was almost as satisfying as riding a flaming dragon, destroying the stuff like this. Even when he thought he’d got it all, he carried on for a few seconds, just to be sure. Foul smoke billowed from the pit.

V’chal came forward and peered down, wafting the smoke away from his face as he did so. ‘Think you got it all.’ At the same time, Herebeth said, Jekkoth returns.

We may not need the extra flamethrowers. But ask him to bring them anyway, just in case. D’gar looked down as the smoke finally began to clear. Everything seemed to be charred. ‘Give it a poke,’ he instructed V’chal.

‘Looks fine.’ He stirred around with the metal rod, lifting pieces of charred Thread. By the time G’reden arrived, they’d checked over the entire area.

‘Seems safe now,’ he told the men.

‘How can you be sure?’ one asked.

‘We got this burrow. There might be others, of course.’ It was always a possibility. ‘If any trees start to fall unexpectedly or look as if they’re dying in the next day or so, inform the Weyr. And you’ll need to get this flamethrower properly fixed. It’s not safe to use like this.’ He shrugged off the tank straps, wincing.

‘Are you all right?’ G’reden noticed.

‘Hurt my shoulder earlier. It’s not feeling too good now.’ With the job done, the pain had come back anew.

‘Thank you,’ one of the men said, as V’chal packed his rods away. ‘The Lord Holder will be very grateful.’

‘Just doing our job. And you did yours well, too, spotting it.’ D’gar rubbed his shoulder. ‘Now let’s get out of here.’ They began the weary trudge back to their dragons.