Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 32. Accident

The Gather passed without any more incidents and was crowded enough that D’gar managed to avoid bumping into H’sal, or anyone else he’d rather not see. Afterwards, though, he was reminded that although Fort Weyr was home, it also held a lot of unhappy memories. The first day he’d arrived at Benden, it had felt like a fresh start, in a place uncontaminated by the past. That was still true; perhaps more so now that he had H’rek as a weyrmate.

He visited J’rud again the next day. The healers had him up and about now, learning how to get around the infirmary on crutches.

‘They’ve even got me running errands for them,’ he said. ‘To be honest, I’m glad you came in, or they’d still have me working.’ He sipped his klah. ‘Mind you, seeing the state some of these poor bastards are in makes me realise how lucky I am.’

J’rud had been fortunate enough - like himself - that he’d not had anything worse than minor scores previously. D’gar still didn’t like to look at the badly injured riders; the ones who were drugged with fellis, or who’d never be walking again, even with the aid of crutches. ‘Have you managed to see Zurinth yet?’ he said, diverting his mind from that path.

‘Yesterday afternoon. It took me a while to get there, especially over all that loose stone, but she was pleased to see me. The wing damage isn’t as bad as I’d thought.’

‘That’s good.’

‘It’ll be a while before it’s strong enough for us to fly again, but you know what they say about dragons healing faster than their riders. And Izaeth is keeping her well fed.’

D’gar smiled. ‘How about you and Sh’ran…?’

‘We’re getting along just fine. Can’t wait for them to let me get back to my weyr so we can have some fun again. Not much privacy in here.’

‘No, I imagine not.’

‘How’s H’rek?’

‘He’s well, too. Looking forward to being back at Benden for a month, despite the weather.’

‘When is it he’s due back?’

‘Just another sevenday now. Two more Threadfalls for us, probably one for him.’ Although the revised charts had been fairly accurate in terms of days when Thread would fall, they still didn’t have the same degree of certainty as those for the north.

‘I’m not interrupting, am I?’

D’gar turned to see Gr’lon. ‘I thought they’d let you out of here.’

‘They did. I just came back for a check up. It’s still feeling a bit gritty.’ He gestured toward the bad eye. ‘But I’ve got most of the vision back. Seems like the more I use it, the better it gets.’

‘So you’ll be fighting fit soon.’

Gr’lon made a face. ‘I am now. But R’gul won’t have me back in his Wing.’

‘Which one’s R’gul?’ J’rud asked. ‘I still get muddled with the Benden Wingleaders.’

‘Former Weyrleader,’ D’gar told him. ‘Bit of a hidebound old sod.’

Gr’lon smiled. ‘He didn’t know what hit him when you gave him that lecture. Didn’t make any difference, though. In fact, seeing you here, I was wondering if you could do something to help me out.’

‘If I can.’

‘I know F’nor’s got you training some of the weyrlings. He said I should ask you if I can fly with you next time. If you put us through our paces and think we’re sound, it might count for something.’

D’gar doubted that. R’gul didn’t seem like a man to change his mind once it was made up, and he wasn’t exactly on the Wingleader’s list of favourite people. ‘I can certainly do that. Even if R’gul won’t have you back, there’s more than just one Wing here at Benden.’

‘I’d appreciate it. They’re talking about sending me down to Southern Weyr otherwise and I’d not fancy that.’

‘It’s not a bad place. Better weather than here. And the food’s great.’

‘Yes, but Chenna would be stuck here. I wouldn’t want to leave her again, not now I’ve just got out of this place.’

J’rud chuckled. ‘Know exactly what you mean.’

‘Well, we’re doing some training this afternoon, so you’re welcome to join us.’

‘That’s great. Thanks.’ He left them.

‘Looks like you’re making friends.’ J’rud said. ‘Maybe you won’t want to go back to Fort even when they’ve bred enough dragons here.’

‘Fort’s our Weyr. Of course I’d go back.’ Even as he spoke, he realised he wasn’t so sure.

‘Really? I reckon we fit in better here than H’rek or Sh’ran would there. Last time I was back home, I heard some nasty comments about Benden.’

‘Same happens here though, doesn’t it? All those quips about being four hundred Turns old. That brawl in the baths…’

‘Maybe. But I reckon they’re getting used to us, gradually. You’re doing all right here, after all. Better than you could ever have done at Fort.’

‘I suppose so.’ D’gar - and S’brin when he was still alive - had never quite shaken off the reputation they’d acquired as weyrlings. It hadn’t really mattered to S’brin; he’d never cared for what anyone thought and as a green rider, promotion wasn’t an issue. But D’gar knew R’feem would have found it difficult to make him Wingsecond without opposition if they’d still been at Fort. ‘Anyway, that’s all in the past.’

‘Four hundred Turns past,’ J’rud reminded him.

‘I’ll come in and see you again tomorrow, all right?’

‘You’re a good Wingsecond, D’gar. And a good friend.’

He left the infirmary, taking a deep breath as soon as he was outside to clear the smell of it from his nose. No matter how many Turns went by, it would always remind him of that day.

Herebeth had decided to stuff his belly again, so D’gar strolled over to the feeding pens, where the sun was warm and sat on a bench watching his dragon run down a fat ovine. Benden was definitely getting better quality stock these days, he thought.

Another brown dragon dropped down, letting his rider slide off. D’gar recognised M’rell and waved him over.

‘Didn’t know you were coming back today. Is it permanent?’

‘Yeah. There’s nothing wrong with Toth’s eye now and most of the heavy work is done so they don’t really need us any more. Why? Don’t you want me back in the Wing?’

‘Course we do. I’ll let R’feem know you’re here. We’ve Fall again tomorrow over the vineyards, so we could do with the extra help.’

Toth caught a wherry with ease. ‘There’s some good hunting in the south, so he’s not really that hungry,’ M’rell commented. ‘I’d have probably stayed longer if it wasn’t for F’drun being there. He’s an asshole.’

D’gar smiled. ‘I’d already figured that out. So, what’s he been up to lately?’

‘Pretty much the same stuff he was doing with our Wing. Throwing his weight around. Picking on folk.’

That wasn’t good to hear. ’He’s not picked on H’rek, has he?’

‘Not that I know of. No, it’s one of the Benden greens this time. Young lad, not much older than H’rek I shouldn’t think. Just out of the infirmary here.’

D’gar suddenly remembered N’bras saying recently that his weyrmate had been sent to Southern to recover his strength. ‘Not C’vash?’

‘I think that’s his name. He’s a quiet lad, still a bit weak from his injuries. Maybe that’s why F’drun’s picking on him?’

‘Who knows why he picks on anyone. I’ve not been able to figure it out.’

‘Anyway, H’rek will be back soon, won’t he? Out of harm’s way.’

‘I just don’t like to think of anyone being sent there to recover and getting bullied.’ Maybe he could have a word with F’nor about it. C’vash had been in his Wing, after all, so he’d want to make sure the lad was all right.

‘Look at it this way. At least the invalids don’t have to put up with him for long. Might be a good incentive to get better fast, otherwise who’d want to leave a tropical paradise to come back here?’

‘Does T’bor know what’s going on?’

M’rell shrugged. ‘Think he’s just pleased there’s someone taking charge of the extra riders during Fall. He’s too preoccupied moping about Kylara to notice much else, I reckon.’

That didn’t sound good at all. ‘F’drun needs to be stopped before he does any more damage.’

M’rell frowned. ‘It’s not your problem, is it? So long as he can’t hurt anyone you care about - or me - why should we care? Leave it to someone else to deal with him.'

That was so typical of M’rell. It wasn’t that he was heartless; he just didn’t concern himself with anything that didn’t affect him directly. ‘Yes, but they won’t, will they? That’s why he got sent here from High Reaches. Out of sight, out of mind.’

‘You’ll worry about it, I know. But you can’t do anything. You’re just a brown rider. He’s a bronze and he’s in bed with a Weyrwoman.’

‘Thanks for your confidence, M’rell. I’ve not done badly so far.’

‘True. But don’t push your luck. Leave him alone. If he wants to stay down south, all the better for us.’

M’rell was right about one thing; he did worry about it. The only respite he had was during the training session, when his mind was otherwise occupied. The youngsters were coming together well as a Wing and Gr’lon and his brown dragon passed all the tests he set them. R’gul was just being fussy, he thought, refusing to have the man back.

‘How did I do?’ Gr’lon asked, once they were back on the ground.

‘Perfectly. If it was down to me, I’d be happy to have you in my Wing.’

He grinned. ‘Thanks. So, will you put in a good word?’

‘Of course. I need to speak to F’nor about another matter, so I’ll mention it at the same time. There’ll be a space for you somewhere, I’m sure.’

Herebeth chose that moment to butt in. Piroth’s rider wants to see you. It is urgent.

What could he want? Best drop me off at his weyr, then.

He is not in his weyr. He is in the infirmary.

What? This didn’t sound like good news. Tell him I’ll be right there.

He made his way over, a feeling of dread in his stomach. He’d seen R’feem at breakfast that morning and he’d been fine then, apart from grumbling about having to attend yet another meeting.

Maybe the Wingleader was attending to someone else. What if J’rud had taken a turn for the worse? He’d looked fine earlier, but who knows what might have happened. During the few minutes it took to walk the short distance, his imagination played its usual tricks so that by the time he arrived, he was prepared for more or less any calamity. Instead, the place was calm; the healers going about their usual duties in unflustered fashion.

He spotted J’rud, on his crutches, carrying a basket of bandages. At least he looked all right. ‘Have you seen R’feem?’

‘Yes. He’s just over there.’ J’rud nodded his head to his left.

‘What’s up? All I got from Herebeth was that it was urgent.’

‘He’ll probably want to tell you himself.’

R’feem was sitting in one of the treatment bays, two healers with him. His right arm was bandaged and in a sling. ‘Ah, D’gar. Glad you could make it.’ His tone was casual, but there was a hint of pain in his voice.

‘What have you done to yourself?’

He grimaced. ‘Tripped down the steps from the council room. They tell me my wrist’s broken.’

One of the healers nodded. ‘You’re lucky it’s a clean break. Should heal up in around eight sevendays, so long as you don’t aggravate it.’

D’gar thought quickly. There was no way he’d be able to catch firestone sacks during Fall. ‘So that means you’re out of action?’

‘I’m afraid so, for the time being. That’s why I needed to see you.’

‘What can I do to help?’

He smiled through the pain. ‘Well, you’re just going to have to lead the Wing for me.’

‘What? But I don’t have the experience. I’m not old enough…’

‘You made a pretty good job of it in the south.’

‘That was once. It might have been a fluke.’

‘Sounds like you’re trying to talk yourself out of it. Would you rather have B’lin leading?’ There was humour in his tone.

D’gar didn’t really think B’lin was the right man for the job, but didn’t want to seem disloyal to a colleague. ’He’s… all right.’

‘Competent, yes, I’d agree with you there and he’s been a Wingsecond for considerably longer than you have. But…’

D’gar knew exactly what R’feem was implying. B’lin was a follower, not a leader. ‘I know what you’re trying to say.’

‘Well, then, it has to be you. And your first duty is to help me get up to my weyr.’

They rode up on Herebeth, as he was smaller than Piroth. Even so, it wasn’t easy for R’feem to get on board without jarring his splinted arm. He looked even more pale and drawn by the time they got there. ‘You need some fellis,’ D’gar said. He was surprised they hadn’t given R’feem a dose of it already.

‘I don’t want to fall asleep yet and that stuff always knocks me out. They’ve slathered numbweed on my arm. It’ll do for now. You can pour me some wine, though.’ He sat in his comfortable chair, head back against the padding. D’gar brought him a cup of wine; Benden white, he could tell from the distinctive bouquet. ‘Have one yourself as well.’

‘Better not. I’m going to need a clear head.’ He sat opposite R’feem. ‘Look, I really appreciate your faith in me but are you sure this is going to work? Aren’t people going to object?’

‘One or two, maybe. R’gul for sure, but he’s not Weyrleader.’ He took a sip and sighed. ‘As I’ve said before, everyone in the Wing respects you. I promoted you for good reason; because I knew you’d be capable of taking over if anything happened to me.’

‘In Fall, yes.’ If a Wingleader or his dragon was injured, a Wingsecond was expected to be able to carry on. That was why they had a meeting beforehand; to ensure everyone knew what the plans were for the forthcoming Fall.

‘And to cover for a Wingleader where necessary. You’ve seen it happen before, at Fort. Remember when Rolth strained a wing? He was out for several Falls and Z’los’s Wingsecond took over until he was fit enough to fly again.’

That was true. He nodded. ‘It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all. When we had to go and fight Thread in the south, I didn’t have time to think about it.’

‘Well, you’ve the time now. And being able to think through a problem is one of your strengths. I don’t want anyone else leading my Wing and I’ll tell the Weyrleader that when I see him. He’s a sensible man, for all that he has a few outlandish ideas.’

‘Well, I suppose so.’ It still seemed a big step, but he was warming to the idea. He knew, deep down, that he had the ability to do the job well. He’d certainly be better at it than some of those who already held the position. He decided to break the news to Herebeth. How do you feel about leading the Wing?

Herebeth mulled over it for a few seconds. I would very much like that. We have flown well. We are capable. His confidence boosted D’gar’s own.

R’feem smiled. ‘Your dragon reckons it’s a good idea. I can tell.’

‘He does. And now I’ve had a chance to get over the initial shock, I think the same.’

‘Good. I knew you’d come round.’ He took another drink and gave D’gar a calculating look. ‘Better start considering who you’re going to pick as the other Wingsecond. It’ll be only temporary, of course, until I’m fit again. I know who I’d have, but I’d like to hear your thoughts.’

D’gar suddenly remembered M’rell was back at Benden. M’rell had always wanted to be Wingsecond; he’d been bitterly disappointed when he’d not been given the job before. And yet, now he was in the position to choose, he knew why R’feem hadn’t picked him. Like B’lin, M’rell wasn’t a leader. He followed orders well, but he was inclined to be impulsive and didn’t always consider the consequences of his actions. ‘That’s a tough choice to make,’ he said. ‘Because I know who wants the job, but I’m not sure he’s the one who should have it. And if he doesn’t get it, he’s going to be upset with me.’

‘Who’s that, then?’

‘M’rell. He’s fit to fight again, in case you’d not heard.’

‘I hadn’t.’

‘I saw him earlier today.’

R’feem spoke quietly. ‘You’re Wingleader. You need to consider what’s best for the Wing. Out of all our riders, who would be most effective as Wingsecond?’

D’gar didn’t have to give it too much thought. Putting aside what M’rell wanted was easy when you thought about it like that - although it wouldn’t stop M’rell feeling as if he’d been passed over again. ‘V’vil from High Reaches. He’s been a Wingsecond before. He knows his stuff.’ He counted out the points on his fingers. ‘He’s more than capable of taking over, if the need arises.’

R’feem nodded. ‘My thoughts, too.’ He sighed. ‘It should have been him from the start, rather than F’drun. Only F’drun’s record looked better and he convinced me he was the man for the job.’

‘Anyone can make mistakes.’

‘I know.’ He laughed briefly, then turned serious. ‘You know, you wouldn’t even have dreamed of saying anything like that to me a Turn ago. But then, when S’brin was around, you never really spoke up for yourself.’

It was true. S’brin had been such a big personality that it hadn’t really mattered he was just a green rider. From the time they were kids, he had always been the leader; the risk-taker. D’gar had followed him unquestioningly, firstly as a friend and then as a lover. It had led him into trouble sometimes, but he hadn’t cared. R’feem could only view their relationship from the outside; he didn’t fully understand the bond they’d shared.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said that…’ he ventured, when D’gar didn’t respond.

‘No. It’s true, up to a point. It was just how we were. That’s why T’garrin always had me down to Impress a green and him a blue. Well, until the first Hatching, anyway. I Impressed second time.’

‘I know. I was there. You should have got that bronze the first time you stood.’

D’gar started. He’d not thought anyone else had noticed. S’brin had been sick with a fever when Loranth’s eggs had hatched and he’d done his best to be ignored; not too difficult when there were a lot more candidates than eggs. You had to think happy, welcoming thoughts when the young dragons hatched. If you closed your mind off, then they’d overlook you and go for someone else. That was what he’d done, even when the bronze broke his shell and briefly looked his way. ‘I’m glad I Impressed Herebeth,’ he said defensively.

‘Of course you are. But there weren’t any bronzes in Kadoth’s clutch, were there?’

‘No.’ What was R’feem getting at? He’d never felt as if he’d ended up with second best and he wasn’t going to start now.

‘Don’t get upset,’ R’feem said. ‘I’m just trying to point out that the colour of your dragon isn’t everything. We both know there are some bronze riders who aren’t fit to lead a herd beast to water and some greens who are clever and thoughtful. Like your H’rek, for example. All I’m saying is that if there’d been any bronzes in that clutch, you’d have been a good match and it might have made your life easier. But you’ve got the right qualities to lead a Wing, brown or bronze dragon aside.’

‘I’ll do my best for you. For everyone.’

‘Good. And remember, I’ll still be around to give you advice.’ He drained the last of his wine. ‘Better have a refill. Come on, have a drink with me to celebrate, then I’ll take some fellis, have a nap and we can break it to the rest of the Wing at dinner.’

D’gar went back to his Weyr. He wanted nothing more than to tell his good news to H’rek, but it wouldn’t be right to do that before everyone in the Wing found out. Realistically, he knew this was the best moment of his unforeseen promotion; the euphoria of success that would inevitably be tempered by the reality of doing a difficult job. He remembered R’feem coming to visit him after S’brin had been killed; having to guide him through the grief and keep him functioning as a member of the Wing. If anyone was injured or died during Fall, he would have that responsibility. If it was due to a mistake on his own part, he knew how much worse that would be.

You are concerned. Herebeth could sense the turmoil of his mind. Do not worry. We will do a good job.

I’m sorry, he told his dragon. I don’t doubt you for a moment. I just worry about myself.

You will worry beforehand as you always do, then when we meet Thread you will do exactly what you need to.

That was true enough. Thank you, Herebeth. You are the best dragon I could have hoped to Impress.

And you are the only rider for me. We make a good team.

D’gar didn’t usually feel nervous the evening before Fall; his brain - and his stomach - only switched into that mode overnight. He didn’t feel quite as nauseous as that; if anything, it was more like the scared anticipation of the day he’d stepped onto the Hatching Sands for the second time, wondering if any dragon would choose him. He kept his face and his mind closed as he met the rest of the Wing in the dining hall.

M’rell came in and chose the empty spot on his left. ‘It’s good to be back,’ he commented. ‘Even if the food and the weather are rubbish. At least the company’s better.’

D’gar smiled back, wondering how long he’d feel that way once he heard the news.

When R’feem arrived, his arm visibly injured, there were whispers and nudges around the table. The fact that it was B’lin who accompanied him - he must have helped him down from the weyr this time, D’gar thought - caused more speculation and several sideways glances in his direction. M’rell nudged him. ‘What’s up with R’feem?’

There was no point lying, when he knew. ‘Fell down some steps and broke his wrist, I heard.’

‘Seems to be favouring B’lin. I’d not have thought he’d choose an Igen rider over one of his own.’

‘He’ll choose whoever’s most capable, no favouritism involved.’ Maybe that would prepare M’rell for what was coming. Probably not though. M’rell didn’t think things through the way he did.

R’feem settled himself, then tapped on one of the tin plates a couple of times. It took only moments to get everyone’s attention as they’d been half way there already. ‘You’ve probably noticed this,’ he raised the sling slightly. ‘It’s just a broken wrist, but it means I’ll be unable to fight Thread for a few sevendays. I’ve had a chat with both my Wingseconds earlier on and you’ll be pleased to hear D’gar will be leading this Wing until I’m mended.’

D’gar felt all the eyes swivel in his direction as R’feem beckoned him over. Those few paces to the end of the table had never felt so far. R’feem must already have loosened his knots and he ceremonially handed them over. ‘Fly well.’

Someone started banging on the table and there were a few cheers. At the other tables, riders swivelled around to see what was happening.

D’gar held the knots loosely. ‘Thank you,’ he said to R’feem, then turned to the rest of the Wing. ‘I hope I’ll make as good a job of leading you as R’feem has done. Hopefully, I’ve learned a few tricks from him over the Turns.’

R’feem patted him on the back with his uninjured hand.

‘Tomorrow morning, we ride Fall over Benden Hold. I’ll be having a meeting, as usual, once we get weather reports and any other information.’ He scanned all the familiar faces. Now for the difficult part. ‘B’lin will, of course, be continuing as Wingsecond, but until R’feem’s fit to resume his usual role, we’ll need a replacement for me.’ He didn’t dare look at M’rell as he made the announcement. ‘I’ve decided that the temporary Wingsecond position will be filled by V’vil and Bitath.’

The High Reaches riders cheered loudly. V’vil grinned. He deserved it, D’gar knew, after all the problems he’d had in the past. ‘That’s it for now. Enjoy your dinner and if you’ve any questions, you know where to find me.’ He returned to his previous seat, several riders clapping him on the back as he passed.

M’rell sat in stony silence. ‘You knew already,’ he said, accusingly.

‘Yes, but I couldn’t exactly say anything before R’feem did.’

‘Well, thanks for looking after your old friends.’

‘That’s not how it works…’ He started to try and explain, but M’rell got to his feet.

‘Think I’d better move. This end of the table is too exalted for the likes of me.’

On his other side, T’garrin leaned forward. ‘Don’t worry. He’s just disappointed. He’ll come round.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ He tried to put it to the back of his mind. He had more things than M’rell’s attitude to worry about now.