Threadfall - 14. Flying Together

‘How did you manage to arrange this?’ D’gar lay back on one of the smooth rocks that ran all along one side of the beach, relaxing as the warm sun of Southern Boll soothed his joints and muscles. It had been a tough Fall the day before and he was feeling the after effects.

‘It wasn’t too difficult.’ Zalna continued to unpack the hamper. ‘I’ve been playing the good girl recently, so Mardra doesn’t mind me having some time away from the Weyr. Of course, she thought it was just me and K’torl who were going to be here.’

‘Instead of dragging along a couple of grubby wingriders like us two?’ S’brin reached over to grab at a sweet roll.

Zalna slapped his hand. ‘Later, greedy guts. K’torl, where’s that wine?’

K’torl was peering into a nearby rock pool. ‘Left it in that cave to stay cool.’

‘Fetch it over, then.’

As he did what he was told, D’gar reflected that life was going pretty well. He’d missed his chats with Zalna. She thought deeply about things, like he did. Plus, he and S’brin had always got along with K’torl when they were all in the barracks. Despite only having been in ‘C’ Wing for half a Turn, it felt like an age ago that they’d been weyrlings.

K’torl unstoppered the skin and poured out cups of Benden white for them all. The subtle flavour of it reminded D’gar of past times, too. Valli had always had a supply of fine wine in her weyr.

S’brin made an appreciative noise. ‘Good stuff, this.’

K’torl wrinkled his nose. ‘Pleasant bouquet.’ He took a small sip. ‘But you can tell it’s a rather ordinary forty-three. It doesn’t have the citrus tang and leafy freshness of, say, the forty-two.’ Then, both he and Zalna burst into laughter.

D’gar caught S’brin’s eye. ‘What’s all that about?’

Zalna explained. ’T’ron fancies himself as a wine connoisseur. He’s always going on like that. I think he does it to impress Mardra.’

‘And does it?’ S’brin asked.

‘She gives him a rather superior smile,’ Zalna said. ‘Like this.’ She drew herself up and changed her features to those of the Weyrwoman at her most haughty.

S’brin laughed. ‘Hey, that’s good. You could give H’fra a run for his money.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘One of our wingmates. He, er, does impressions.’ S’brin stopped there. H’fra’s impressions of the weyrfolk extended to all of its weyrwomen. He mimicked Tirelle’s slightly baffled expression exactly and he did quite a good one of Zalna as an innocent Holdbred lass resisting the advances of a randy bronze rider. He played both parts, of course.

Zalna, of course, knew nothing about that. She would never be invited to those sorts of parties. Neither, for that matter, would K’torl. D’gar knew that he was only tolerated due to being S’brin’s weyrmate, a sort of honorary green for the duration.

‘Well, cheers.’ Zalna raised her glass. They all drank.

‘Can I have some food now, mum?’ S’brin asked in innocent tones.

Zalna swatted him. ‘Annoying brat,’ she said, obviously channelling Mardra again. ‘Of course you can,’ she added, as herself. ‘We’re here to enjoy ourselves, after all.’

They tucked in before the food attracted insects. D’gar watched the dragons playing out in the small bay, the sun making Gemalth’s golden hide shine as she surfaced from a dive. Herebeth floated further out, his head dipped below the small wavelets as he searched for fish. His jaws snapped quickly. Tasty, he thought. Bit small, though.

‘Does Herebeth ever think of anything other than food?’ S’brin asked. Zemianth must have commented on it to him.

‘Sometimes.’ Even though Herebeth had reached his full size, he still ate like a growing dragon. Fortunately, he seemed to burn off the excess.

‘He’ll be too fat to catch Zemianth. If he can ever be bothered, that is.’

‘Is she due to rise again soon?’ Zalna asked.

S’brin took a moment to calculate. ‘A couple of sevendays. I can predict it fairly well now. Although gettng scored last Turn threw her normal schedule out a bit.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard that makes them less regular,’ Zalna commented. ‘Did it hurt much? I mean, the scores.’

S’brin’s injuries had healed sufficiently for him to have resumed Wing duties, but the scars were still livid. Most riders had a few, so it was nothing remarkable.

‘She wasn’t that bothered and I kept slathering her with numbweed. She doesn’t complain about them now. Mine still twinge a bit.’

‘Yeah. Takes you by surprise sometimes.’ D’gar’s hand went to his shoulder. ‘It’s an odd sort of pain. Like someone’s jabbing you with a hot needle. But it never lasts long.’

S’brin nodded. ‘That’s about right.’ He looked over at K’torl. ‘Well done for staying score-free so far.’

K’torl shrugged. ‘Luck more than anything. I’ve had a few close calls.’

‘Haven’t we all.’ The thaw had come a sevenday after Turn’s End, meaning they were back to the normal Fall schedule. There’d been a couple of bad ones since then, with more fatalities, almost as if Thread was taking revenge for the break.

‘So, how’s your campaign going?’ S’brin asked. ‘Think Z’los will get enough support?’

K’torl sipped his wine. ‘Maybe. But V’dul’s getting quite a few of the older riders on his side. He’s angling for the ones who aren’t keen on T’ron, but think Z’los would make too many changes.’

‘Mardra doesn’t like it at all,’ Zalna commented. ‘She definitely doesn’t want any upsets.’

‘In that case, there probably won’t be,’ S’brin said. ‘Mardra and Loranth are old enough to know each other’s minds by now.'

‘The flight’s not won until it’s done.’ K’torl rolled out the old saying. ‘We’ll see.’

‘Anyway. We didn’t come here to talk Weyr politics.’ Zalna refreshed everyone’s cups. ‘I’d like to propose a toast to ‘F’ Wing’s new Wingsecond…’

‘Acting Wingsecond,’ K’torl corrected. ‘As from the next Fall.’

‘Good on you,’ S’brin said.

K’torl beamed in response. ‘I’ll be the youngest Wingsecond since the beginning of this Pass. Not bad, eh?’

D’gar drank along with them, but he couldn’t help feeling apprehensive. Shadowing N’rir when he’d joined the Wing had shown him just how much a Wingsecond was expected to be able to cope with. Would K’torl really be able to handle the job with his limited experience?

After eating, they swam with the dragons for a short while. Even in Southern Boll, the ocean was cooler than it would be during the summer months, although the sun dried and warmed you fairly quickly once you’d got out. The dragons didn’t mind at all, of course, as they didn’t feel the cold in the same way humans did.

D’gar was glad that Zalna - and K’torl - seemed happy to socialise without too much political intrigue this time. It was good just to relax, away from the cold drizzle that seemed to have been the predominant weather ever since the snow melted.

They went back to Fort separately. Zalna was unsure as to whether Mardra would approve if she knew her junior weyrwoman was mixing with the common crowd, so she thought it best to avoid any possibility of her finding out. D’gar and S’brin went first, leaving the bronze and gold dragons sunbathing on the sandy beach. It was a shock to the system to come out of between into a cold shower of rain and low cloud swirling over the rim of the Bowl.

‘I’ll be glad when winter’s over,’ D’gar said, once they were back in their weyr. ‘My feet don’t cope well with the cold during Fall.’ He took off his socks and rubbed in some of the ointment he’d got from the infirmary. His chilblains had almost healed up while they’d been fighting Thread less frequently, only to flare up again as soon as the thaw had arrived.

’T’chol says the best cure is to soak your feet in a bucket of piss.’

D’gar wrinkled his nose. ‘My mother told me a raw onion dipped in salt does the job. It seems like everyone’s got their own methods. Think I’ll stick to this stuff. At least it smells nice.’ He wasn’t alone. Many of the riders - particularly brown and bronze, who tended to be in the air for longer - suffered from the painful swellings. D’gar was just thankful it was only his feet that seemed to be affected. J’kil, the oldest rider in ‘C’ Wing, got them on his hands too, making it painful for him to handle firestone sacks during Fall.

‘So, how do you think K’torl will get on?’

‘I reckon he’ll find it harder than he thinks. Besides, won’t some of the older riders in “F” Wing object to someone half their age being in charge?’

‘I suppose they’re used to it, what with Z’los being so young himself.’

‘There is that. But K’torl’s only been a wing rider for a Turn or so. I don’t reckon that’s enough experience.’

‘Maybe.’ S’brin shrugged. ‘But if he does a good job, maybe it’ll give you a better chance to get promoted more quickly. Wouldn’t you like to be a Wingsecond one day?’

D’gar supposed he might, although realistically it was unlikely to happen. ‘Once Thread’s gone, there won’t be many positions to fill, apart from when someone retires. Reckon I might get my chance when I’m around fifty or so.’ He pulled his socks back on.

‘Fifty,’ S’brin mused. ‘I can’t imagine being that old. Do you think we’ll still be the same, apart from having no hair and joint ache?’

‘We might even get fat, once we’re not fighting Thread anymore.’ The prospect of clear skies seemed more remote than becoming an old man. They’d both been born well into the current Pass and it was difficult to imagine there would be a time when Thread no longer menaced Pern.

‘Not if we keep up the exercise. Got to stay fit, even if it is just for the Spring Games.’

‘Or getting admiring looks in the baths.’ The green riders liked to show off and V’chal wasn’t the only one who flirted shamelessly after each Fall.

‘Won’t need to do that if you get to be Wingsecond. We’ll have our own private pool, then.’

‘Get off. That’s the only reason you want me to be promoted, isn’t it?’

D’gar became more attentive to the gossip; not the scandalous kind that was most often heard at the green end of the table, but the speculation on whether Z’los really was in with a chance.

T’garrin had already started to take bets on the likely winner of the mating flight. So far, T’ron’s Fidranth was the favourite to win, although Z’los and Rolth weren’t far behind. V’dul and Sarneth were the outsiders.

‘Mind you, there’ll be more bronzes than just those three chasing her,’ N’rir said during dinner one evening. ‘Maybe Tiriorth or Piroth will have a go, too?’

‘Tiriorth prefers greens as well you know,’ I’grast said. ‘And even if he didn’t, my feelings on bedding Mardra would put him right off his game.’

‘How about you, boss?’ N’rir asked R’feem.

‘If Piroth wants to chase, then of course he will. But I’d rather he didn’t this time around. I’ve no wish to cause any problems for T’ron.’ It seemed R’feem was loyal to the Weyrleader, as K’torl had said. D’gar was quite surprised when he continued with, ‘So, what do our younger wingriders think about all this?’

T’garrin leaned across from where he was sitting, next to A’ren. ‘Think I’ll make some marks, whatever the outcome.’

That got a laugh and got him off the hook. A’ren didn’t say anything, but then he rarely offered an opinion unless pressed. D’gar was uncomfortably aware that everyone at the top end of the table was looking at him, presumably because he was the youngest brown rider. ‘I’ve been asked if I’d support Z’los,’ he said carefully, not wanting to give away his sources. ‘But I don’t really know enough about him to make an informed decision. T’ron’s been Weyrleader for as long as I can remember so he must be doing something right.’

The others nodded. ‘I agree with D’gar,’ M’rell said. ‘No point in change just for the sake of it.’

N’rir nodded sagely. R’feem seemed satisfied with the replies.

‘Bet you’d hear a different story down the other end of the table,’ I’grast put in. ‘Greens like stirring things up.’

D’gar felt he should defend his friends. ‘Not all green riders think alike. Not all bronzes do, either, which is probably a good thing, otherwise based on what you told us earlier we’d not have a Weyrleader at all.’

R’feem actually cracked a smile at that. ‘He’s got you there.’

I’grast smiled too, but it looked forced.

N’rir reached over to slap him on the back. ‘Good answer, lad.’

After he’d finished eating, D’gar went to fetch some klah. While he was pouring it out, R’feem joined him. ‘Oh, sorry. If I’d have known you wanted a refill, I’d have offered.’

‘It does my old legs good to walk around a bit. Besides, I wanted to have a chat with you away from the rest of them.’ He sat on the bench next to the klah kettle and patted the space to his right.

D’gar sat down. He wondered if he’d gone too far in saying what he had to I’grast. Or maybe R’feem had found out about his trip to the beach with Zalna and K’torl and disapproved?

Evidently R’feem noticed his worried expression. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not a telling off.’

‘Oh?’ So what was it he wanted?

‘I heard you had plenty of those when you were a weyrling. You know N’teren warned me against taking on you and S’brin?’

He’d expected as much from the ex-Weyrlingmaster. ‘So, why did you?’

‘You both flew better than the rest. That’s more important to me. And I’d heard other reports that countered his.’

That was good to know.

‘You both seem to be settling in well to the Wing. You’ve made some friends, I see.’

‘I already knew M’rell and G’reden from the barracks. And most of the others seem pretty easy to get on with.’

‘Did you get to know many from Suderoth’s clutch; the one just below yours?’

‘A few of them. Although we mixed mostly with Loranth’s.’

‘Then you might be in the position to give me some advice. I’m going to need a couple of replacements soon and I’d like to think you might be able to give me an unbiased opinion on some of the riders and their dragons.’

Presumably that meant he didn’t trust M’nan’s views. ‘What are you looking for?’

‘A couple of greens and a blue principally. We could use another brown or bronze as well.’

‘The best brown in that clutch is Rurenth. Gr’dan’s his rider.’ He was the only one who’d stood out, besides the others who had already graduated to the Wings at the same time he and Herebeth had been picked. ‘Of the blues, it would have to be V’ben’s Tinith. He always comes first in all the races. V’ben’s a pleasant sort, too. I didn’t really get to know any of the greens very well.’

R’feem sighed. ‘The blue’s my main priority right now. You realise T’kes won’t be rejoining us?’

‘I’d thought as much.’ Despite T’kes’s optimism it was clear Neyrenth wouldn’t be up to any strenuous flying again. All they’d managed so far were a couple of low flights across the Bowl, less stable than any weyrling’s first attempt.

‘Pity, really. I always hate it when young riders don’t make it through the first few months. Still, at least they’re alive.’ He stared into the fire.

D’gar wondered if he was remembering his lost weyrmate. ‘There is that,’ he said. ‘Although I don’t expect T’kes sees it quite the same way.’

‘No, I don’t expect he does.’ R’feem rubbed his forehead. ‘Anyway, thanks for your advice. I’ll keep it in mind.’

S’brin had evidently noticed, as when they returned to their weyr he asked what R’feem had said.

D’gar was about to tell him the truth, then he thought he might have a bit of fun. ‘He’s thinking about making me a reserve Wingsecond.’

‘No! Really?’

‘Oh, yes. But I said I’d only do it if I can get a weyr with a private pool.’ He managed to hold it together for a few more moments as S’brin digested that, then couldn’t stop the laugh that had been threatening to burst out. ‘Got you there.’

Winter returned with a vengeance in second month, bringing another spell of freezing weather over northern Fort Hold and most of Ruatha. A few more Falls were suspended as Thread turned to harmless black dust. The bad weather meant that the Weyr was relatively empty on rest days as weyrfolk escaped to the warmth of Southern Boll. Those who who stayed behind sat around the hearths in the dining hall, playing cards and chatting with the old folk.

‘We’ve got a removal job,’ J’rud said one morning at breakfast. ‘I’kut’s been promoted to Wingsecond in “E” Wing and wants us to move his stuff to his new weyr. I’ve had a look and let me tell you, the man’s got a lot of furniture. He’s very particular about how he wants it handled, too, so no messing around. If we do a good job, you’ll have two marks each.’

D’gar wondered how much more J’rud would get, but didn’t ask. If he was enterprising enough to find some business, then he deserved the extra. ‘When does he want it done?’

‘This afternoon, preferably. He picked out his weyr yesterday and he’s keen to get in there. Some of the girls are giving it a clean after breakfast.’

‘Did you arrange that, too?’

J’rud smiled. ‘Naturally.’

There’d been a viable Fall over Hold Gar the previous day, so as was usual, D’gar spent the morning cleaning and checking Herebeth’s straps. It was another cold day, but sunny, so the dragons lounged on their ledge, catching the low-angled sunlight. As he worked, he noticed Herebeth staring at Zemianth. Come to think of it, she was looking slightly brighter than usual. ‘Hey, S’brin!’

‘What?’ He was just inside the weyr, sorting out the clothes he needed washing.

‘How close is Zemianth to rising?’

‘A few days, I should think. Why?’

‘Her colour’s changed. And Herebeth seems interested.’ As he finished speaking, he asked Herebeth what was so fascinating about Zemianth today.

She really is a lovely colour. I have never noticed before.

He was definitely acting the same way as he had with other dragons before they rose.

S’brin looked round the curtain. ‘Yeah, she is a bit brighter. That’s come on quickly.’ His eyes unfocussed as he spoke to her. ‘She’s feeling sort of twitchy and restless. Hmm, maybe it’s closer than I reckoned.’

Come to think about it, he’d been very amorous last night. Maybe what they’d been doing had set her off. Or perhaps her nearness to mating had set S’brin off? ‘You’d best keep her away from I’kut’s precious furniture, just in case. You are going to be all right today?’

‘Never felt better. We had a good time, didn’t we?’ He smiled lazily and stretched, just as Zemianth did the same.

D’gar smiled too. ’As long as you’re sure. We don’t want to mess up J’rud’s first big moving job.’

‘You worry too much, you know. You need to relax more. Reckon I know how to sort that out.’

S’brin was irresistible when he was in one of those moods. D’gar abandoned his cleaning and went back inside. The morning passed in a pleasurable way as Herebeth and Zemianth chased the sun; they’d had precious little of it in the Weyr this winter. When their ledge went into shadow, they took themselves up to the fire heights.

Later on, J’rud picked them up on Zurinth and ferried them over to I’kut’s weyr. His dragon wasn’t too keen on an unknown green landing on his ledge, so I’kut had to come out and tell him it was all right.

‘You’re all very young,’ he said, sizing them up. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘Zurinth’s the most careful dragon with furniture I’ve seen,’ D’gar said.

I’kut glanced at him, evidently noting his brown shoulder knots. He seemed less concerned once he knew a fellow brown rider was ‘in charge’, even though D’gar certainly wasn’t. He and S’brin were just there as labour while J’rud was the real brains behind the operation.

J’rud had already worked out the order in which they were going to move things. ‘Heaviest first, while Zurinth’s still fresh.’ D’gar and S’brin brought out a large couch and moved it around to the correct angle to allow Zurinth best access to pick it up. J’rud vaulted onto her neck. ‘We’ll drop this off, then be back for you.’

I’kut was moving to a lower level Weyr, closer to the kitchens. That meant he probably had a service shaft as well as a pool. D’gar watched Zurinth’s careful glide to the weyr ledge and noted how gently she set the couch down, before turning almost on the spot to come back.

‘Herebeth would be no good at this,’ he commented. ‘You need a green for such fine manoeuvres.’

‘Hmm? What was that?’ S’brin seemed a little distracted. He kept glancing up to the heights, checking on Zemianth.

‘I said you need a green for this kind of work.’

‘Oh, right.’

Is Zemianth doing anything… different? he asked Herebeth.

She does not settle, even in the sunshine. She has been in a strange mood all morning.

D’gar saw Zemianth open her wings wide. ‘Is she going to rise this afternoon?’ he asked S’brin.

He shrugged. ‘She’s not saying.’

‘Can’t you tell, by now?’

‘It’s different each time. Sometimes she sleeps a lot, sometimes she’s just edgy. But she’s behaved like this before and not gone off for another two days, so don’t fret about it.’

Just then, Zurinth returned. ‘Come on, you two,’ J’rud called. ‘Let’s get going.’ They flew across to the other weyr. It was odd riding on Zurinth. She was wider than Zemianth and flew in a choppier style. But she was very nimble and set them down precisely on the ledge.

J’rud had drawn a plan on a slate. ‘That needs to go over there,’ he instructed them as they carried the couch inside.

The new weyr had the high-ceilinged spaciousness D’gar had begun to associate with privilege. As he’d expected, it had both a pool and a service shaft. ’How old do you reckon I’kut is?’ he asked J’rud.

‘Somewhere in his mid-thirties. He’s not done badly to make Wingsecond already.’

‘Yes, but R’feem’s only, what, thirty-three? And he’s been a Wingleader for a couple of Turns now.’

‘He got promoted during that bad winter; remember, just before we all Impressed? A few Wingseconds were made up then. Anyway, it’s different for bronzes. There’s less of them so they climb up the ladder quicker. Right, come on. Customer’s waiting; he doesn’t want us standing around chatting.’

Zurinth took a couple of well-stuffed chairs over next. It was a little intimidating to have I’kut hovering around the ledge, flicking imaginary specks of dust off his furniture as he and S’brin carried it out. He eyed Zurinth’s talons warily. ‘She’s not scratched anything, has she?’

‘Not in the slightest,’ D’gar assured him. He wondered if the man was this anxious during a Fall. He also realised why I’kut had hired them; he probably didn’t have any friends who could have helped with his move.

Each trip they made, S’brin got more touchy; his hands were all over D’gar both on board Zurinth and whenever they weren’t carrying stuff.

J’rud noticed too. ‘Oy, you two. Plenty of time for messing around later, when the work’s done.’

‘Glad you’re never going to be a Wingsecond,’ S’brin grumbled. ‘You wouldn’t let anyone have any fun.’

They worked for a couple of hours. Once they’d transported all of the furniture across, I’kut flew over on his own dragon and made a point of checking everything. He seemed to want to find some damage; probably so he could haggle down the price. Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t any.

J’rud had already brought up a selection of wall hangings and tapestries as the new weyr had a lot more wall area to cover than the old one. He had S’brin, as the tallest, hold them up one by one so that I’kut could decide where he wanted them. It took an age. D’gar began to get bored. Impressions from Herebeth’s mind started to invade his consciousness. Zemianth preening on the heights. A couple of male dragons watching her. Except they weren’t going to get her. This time, he would be the one…

D’gar shook himself back into his own head. ‘Er, S’brin?’

‘What?’ He sounded irritable. That might be because his arms were aching by now, or it might be due to Zemianth’s state of mind. D’gar didn’t want to say anything in front of I’kut, but he had a feeling things were going to get out of control fairly shortly.

‘What’s Zemianth up to?’

He evidently talked to her. ‘She’s fine,’ he snapped.

S’brin being snappy without good reason was a sign D’gar recognised from the previous couple of times when Zemianth was proddy. ‘Just asking.’

J’rud looked at him quizzically. Tell Zurinth to tell her rider that I think Zemianth might be about to rise. A couple of seconds later he got the message.

‘How much longer do I have to hold this sharding thing up?’ S’brin asked, glaring at J’rud.

Zurinth’s rider will try to hurry him along, she says.

‘I think we’ve got it sorted now,’ J’rud said pleasantly. ‘You’ll probably agree that the Gather scene makes a nice, bright focal point right where it is, while the seascape would go well near the pool.’

‘Hmm.’ I’kut was being indecisive again. ‘I’m not sure.’

S’brin let the tapestry slide down the wall to land in a crumpled heap. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’

‘Hey, watch that,’ I’kut protested. ‘I paid good marks for it. If it’s damaged…’

J’rud looked stricken. S’brin glared at I’kut, then stormed out, punching the heavy curtain as he left.

‘What’s up with him?’

‘Just a little bit proddy,’ J’rud said. ‘Dragon got scored recently; you know how it affects them.’

D’gar followed him out to the ledge and looked up to the heights. It was a dizzying sensation to see Zemianth simultaneously through his own eyes and Herebeth’s. ‘She’s about to go off?’

S’brin nodded. ‘I reckon you’re right. Shells, but she picks her moments.’

Just then, Zemianth spread her wings and leapt into the air, although instead of ascending, she headed directly for the feeding grounds.

‘She wants blood,’ S’brin said, his voice slightly slurred. ‘She’s aiming to fly a long way.’

Herebeth followed at a distance. Two blues and a bronze winged their way across, watching her every move. J’rud came out onto the ledge. ‘Is she…?’

‘Looks like.’ D’gar’s mind wanted to merge with his dragon’s, but he knew they were in the wrong place. ‘We need to get to the flight cave.’

‘Don’t think there’s time for that.’

D’gar had seen it happen on a few occasions when a green rose unpredictably and the whole thing took place in a private weyr, or once, memorably on the lake shore.

‘What’s going on?’ I’kut demanded, joining them.

‘His dragon’s going to rise,’ J’rud said, very matter-of-factly. 'That’s her, blooding a herdbeast right now.’

S’brin was totally linked with Zemianth, licking his lips as she sucked the blood from the beast’s throat.

‘He can’t,’ I’kut said, sounding slightly panicky. ‘Not here. Not in my new weyr.’

‘Too late.’ A couple of dragons zeroed in on the ledge, as friends dropped off the riders whose dragons were waiting to chase. They had to move back quickly, D’gar having to pull S’brin along with him. He had the disorienting sensation of being in two places at once.

The riders hurried inside. One almost knocked I’kut over in his hurry. ‘Mind my furniture!’ he shouted, before rounding on J’rud. ‘This is all your fault. I knew I couldn’t trust you greens’

D’gar knew he needed some help here and struggled to pull himself back. It wasn’t easy, but somehow, he managed it. ‘It’s not his fault,’ he said, fairly intelligibly. ‘Dragons rise when they will.’

‘Oh, no. Don’t tell me you’re involved in this too.’ I’kut tried to push the riders away from his precious couch. ‘Get over there, you lot. Keep off my stuff.’

‘You should be thankful your own dragon hasn’t decided to join in as well,’ J’rud told him.

Their voices receded to the background. D’gar was thankful he wouldn’t have to leave S’brin alone this time, although if Herebeth failed to catch her, wouldn’t it be that much worse…

We will catch her. Herebeth’s confidence radiated through him, along with the rising dragonlust. Zemianth raised her head from her prey and took a good look around at her prospective mates. D’gar found it too distracting to try and concentrate on his surroundings inside the weyr while also seeing Zemianth from Herebeth’s point of view. He shut his eyes and felt the sudden shift as his consciousness merged fully with that of his dragon; a sensation that felt less strange than it had the first time, or even the second.

He glanced at his rivals. Bronze Tiriorth, who had caught Zemianth a few times before. The blues; Wasuth and Marth from their own Wing along with clutch mate Beylalth. Another brown, poised on a nearby ledge; Firianth from Loranth’s clutch. The older dragons would be the ones to watch out for; they had Turns of experience. Yet Herebeth was young, strong and had an undoubted advantage. He knew exactly how Zemianth tended to fly in most situations. D’gar wasn’t entirely sure if it was he or Herebeth performing this analysis. For all intents and purposes, they had ceased to exist as separate entities, at least until the flight was won. Through his human ears he could hear an argument going on in the background, but it was distant and unimportant. All that mattered was Zemianth, glowing as the herdbeast’s blood fuelled her desire. He saw her haunches tense as she prepared to spring, her wings blurring as she propelled herself skywards, shrieking her challenge. Herebeth was close behind her; not as quickly away as Wasuth, but ahead of Marth and Beylalth. Firianth, by virtue of his starting point was further to the rear and Tiriorth would take a while to catch up.

Zemianth skimmed over the top of the Bowl, gaining height as her wings found clear air. She headed for the mountains, never flying a straight course, but weaving one way then the other, although not yet testing her potential mates to their limits as she would later. Herebeth followed easily and anticipated her moves, allowing him to close the distance, although Wasuth read her almost as well.

She caught a thermal over the first ridge, ascending swiftly. They’d flown this way before and he knew the air currents over the terrain well. He glanced back. Beylalth had missed the strongest part of the uplift and was having to work hard to keep up. Tiriorth was making up ground fast, his powerful wingbeats propelling him ever closer. Just ahead, Wasuth played the airflow almost as well as Zemianth, keeping his position as the nearest dragon behind her.

Zemianth kept ascending, chasing the rising air superbly, her wings gleaming as she turned into the sun. Some dragons might expend a lot of energy in trying to catch up with her now, but Herebeth knew it wasn’t yet time. He stayed where he was, keeping apace, but conserving his strength for when it would be needed.

They flew far from the Weyr, climbing higher over the peaks until Zemianth abruptly changed her tactics, wanting to challenge the males below her. She dropped out of the thermal, losing height rapidly. Herebeth veered to where he thought she would end up as did Wasuth, but she’d fooled them both.

You’ll have to do better than that, she sent, in a teasing tone. Only the cleverest dragon catches me today!

Tiriorth seized the advantage and got closer. Only for a couple of breaths, though, as Zemianth turned again so sharply that no bronze could hope to follow, heading for the mountainside.

Maybe she was getting tired of being flown by Tiriorth? Herebeth took heart and pushed on. He knew this place. They’d flown over it together enough times. As he’d expected, she skimmed close to the crags, using her compact size to take her through gaps the larger dragons couldn’t follow. All they could do was try to anticipate where she’d emerge. Wasuth and Marth went one way, Firianth another. Beylalth was nowhere to be seen; he must have given up the chase. Tiriorth flew straight over the tops, presumably hoping to cut her off.

Herebeth spotted her green hide below him as she dodged in and out of familiar gullies. It would be dangerous to try and catch her there, but he knew there was a wider, deeper valley coming up. She knew it too. As soon as she had space, she used all of her skill to challenge him, ducking and weaving as he attempted to get close enough to grab her.

If you want me, you must work for it. I am not an easy catch.

Each time he was almost close enough to touch, she changed direction with a speed he couldn’t match, taunting him with her superior manoeuvrability. He forgot about the other dragons, caught up completely in Zemianth’s desirability as a mate and his determination to catch her. It was a shock when suddenly a bronze bulk came out of nowhere and punched into his left side. The impact threw him off course and he fell through the air, away from Zemianth. By the time he recovered, Tiriorth was in hot pursuit, Zemianth skilfully dodging his attempts at her.

Herebeth’s ribs hurt. His wings felt heavy and tired, particularly the left one. A sense of failure tugged at his heart as Tiriorth made another determined grab for Zemianth, his talons raking her flank. Her pain and frustration reached out across the gulf of sky.

I do not want Tiriorth. Not this time.

She continued her evasion, although with every change of direction, she lost a little more height. The energy she’d obtained from drinking blood must have been long since burned off by all her aerobatics. Herebeth renewed his efforts to get closer, even if it meant fighting off the bronze. He realised Zemianth was aiding him as much as she could, trying to make sure that each turn brought her closer to him. And in a flash of insight, he figured that Tiriorth, caught up in his own desire to mate with her, would be as blind in his pursuit as he had been just a short while ago. If he could just gain some height, he could swoop down, using his velocity to knock the larger bronze off course for long enough.

I cannot hold him off much longer. Zemianth’s voice sounded tired, resigned even.

I will help you. With an immense effort he managed to fly higher, as Zemianth dipped left to avoid another attempt by Tiriorth. Unable to turn as tightly as she could, he flew wide. Herebeth tucked his wings in and dived, catching him off-guard as he’d hoped. He used his momentum to hit the bronze hard, propelling him into the rock wall and away from Zemianth. Tiriorth bellowed in pain and fury, but there was nothing more he could do.

I am yours.

Zemianth’s desire overwhelmed him as their bodies touched, tails twining together. Back at the Weyr, human bodies also moved together, their passion intensified by that of their dragons, although their minds were far away, high in the air over the Fort mountain range. Herebeth’s wings held them both up as they fell into a long glide, joined as one at last.