2015 4.4.8 Bitra, Spring morning

"Up boy!" Tahon, cot holder of Fallen Cliff Hold, called up the steep stairs. "Herdbeasts need milkin'."

In the small loft room underneath the flat eaves, the black and white herding canine, who had been curled up on the foot of the narrow cot, jumped down in a clatter of nails. A cold nose burrowed beneath the sleeping furs and a wet tongue flicked out.

"G'way." was the response, but it was enough to send the canine clambering down the steep stairs to the room below. The young man, fourteen turns last summer, groaned and pulled the furs up over his ears. Not that he could go back to sleep. He was one of those that once he awoke, he was awake, but the dream, even as it was fading, was vivid enough to cause him to linger.

His dream had taken place high in summer sky. The wind was a cool breeze that countered the warmth of the sun. Clouds could be seen, bursts of white against the green-blue sky, but closer were the tops of snow clad mountains while the land below was filled with towering bluish trees as far as the eye could see. Beneath him, unseen in the way of dreams, was a dragon. He – whether bronze, brown, or blue, for color didn't matter in Tomun's dreams - carried him across the sky, from place to place in a blink of the eye. The dragon banked sharply and Tomun had yelled in delight, fists in the air, trusting completely in his lifemate.

Lifemate. Tomun opened his eyes and shrugged the furs back. He had never dreamed of being anything other than a dragonrider. He never considered another path although his parents continually offered suggestions like carrying on the duties of cot holder, or more halfheartedly, an apprentice of some sort, but Tomun's unwavering belief could not be shaken.

He would be a dragonrider of Pern.

Tahon and Marnia, Tomun's parents, had no love for the riders of Benden. If pressed, they would admit that without the courage of the current Weyrleaders, all of Pern would have been decimated when Thread returned after that very long interval. That first turn of the current Pass had shattered hopes and dreams of a Thread free future. But the last eight turns hadn't been easy. One disaster after another had taken their toll. First cotholder Tahon had been forced to abandon the original farmhold, one that had been in his family for five generations, when Thread had burrowed during the very first Fall over Bitra. The borrows had left the fields barren for turns to come. Five turns later, a winter illness had taken their oldest son and two younger daughters. Two turns ago a blight had destroyed the spring planting, and this winter, tunnel snakes had devoured the carefully harvested seed, causing them to petition Bitra Hold in order to do this turn's planting.

Then there there was the matter of the dragons themselves. Benden Weyr had more queens, and more dragons, than nearly any other Weyr in Pern. Not only did Lord Sifra of Bitra require a full half of all herdbeasts under the age of one turn every six months, but with so many dragons flying overhead the herdbeasts were always a bit underweight. Dragonlengths of fencing had to be repaired and fixed constantly from the herd bolting every time a dragon flew too low overhead. Not to mention Tomun's obsession with the dragon's themselves.

No, Tahon and Marnia had little love for the Benden riders or their dragons.

"Get your head out of the clouds Tomun," his da told him, at least twice a day. "I need you here, mending that fence," or "Planting the tubers," or "Fixing the shutters on the Thread shelter in the north field," or "Weeding the garden for your Ma." And Tomun would pull his thoughts from the clouds, for a little while at least, and do his chores. And he always did them well. He had a strong sense of what was right and what was wrong and helping around the small hold was always right. Perhaps his tuber rows were a little less straight than they could have been, or maybe the shutters hung a bit off plumb, but the job was always done and always done well enough so that there was no need of redoing. Because redoing meant the job was done 'wrong' and 'wrong' wasn't acceptable.

Winters in their small valley hold, located just north of where Benden Weyr road intersected Bitra Hold road, were long, cold and lonely. The proceeding winter had been especially brutal. Heavy wet snows and days upon days of icy sleet had delayed spring by several weeks. When spring did arrive, there had been much work to do. Fences that needed to be repaired, roofing tiles gone missing from the main hold's roof and the Thread Shelter that they were responsible for maintaining. The well had been compromised and needed to be cleaned out and the fields prepared and planted. Rising at sunrise and working until Rukbat set still saw them mending harnesses and tools by glow light late into the night.

"Tahon," his ma was saying as a still tousled haired Tomun came down the stairs. " Is there time to go to the Hold before the next Fall?" Her hair was more gray than brown, and pulled back into a neat bun and fixed with two crossed hair picks. She wore a clean apron over her every day blue serge work dress although she would change into her husband's cast off tunic and trous if her work took her out into the fields. She looked worn and older than her turns from the heartache of loosing so many children, but there was a kindness in her brown eyes that time would never erase. "We're out of almost everything." She gestured toward the small table near the hearth where there was half a loaf of bread, and the last small crock of berry jam. A small hoop of creamy white cheese, smaller by more than half after the green had been carved off, was also on the table. "There's enough tubers and dried fish..."

Tomun, who was stamping his feet into his worn boots, wrinkled his nose. They had eaten more than their fair share of dried fish stew over the long winter. It filled his stomach but that was all it did.

"For one last kettle than that will be gone too." Her mouth was set, her brow knitted with worry yet, at the look at her husband's face, she added, "It was farsighted of you to do all that fishing else we would have gone hungry long before now."

Tomun's da sat on the small bench by the door, his heavy work boots on the floor next to him. He was dressed in clean, but worn, tunic and trous, all neatly patched. His face, long and spare, was tanned and lined from being outdoors. The small lines on his forehead relaxed a little with her compliment, left sided though it might have been. Despite all the disasters, they still had a deep respect and love for each other. Sometimes it seemed the only thing that they did have bounty of.

"May be. Last Fall was two days ago. Shouldn't have another for a sevenday." He started to pull on his boots. "Go ahead then, and make your list Marnia, but keep it spare. Won't know how much, or what, Lord Holder Sifer will have on hand. Spring tithe to the Weyr was two sevenday ago you know." What hung in the air, heavy and gray, was what he didn't say. The cothold had few marks to spare, and they would be lucky if they could buy enough to last until the spring garden started producing.

"It's not his Lordship that we need to worry about but that steward of his." Marnia sniffed.

"Marnia."

"I know, I know. Still, last time he cheated us right and good, no matter that we can't prove it. Those bags were NOT underweight. . . !"

"Tomun," Tahon interrupted, trying to change the subject. Marnia was a quite one, except when it came to defending her family and their honor. Wild runners couldn't stop her when her temper rose. "I'll see to the herdbeasts if you'll feed and water the runners. Harness them to the small wagon." He finished pulling his boots on and stood up to settle them on his feet. "When you get that done, we'll turn the herdbeasts out in the eastern pasture. There should be enough new growth for grazing until we get back."

"Yes da," Tomun said, his eyes lighting up a little at the anticipated change in their daily routine. Still, as eager as he was to travel to the Hold, he was hungry and he couldn't help but look longingly at the little food set out on the table.

Marnia waved him on, already reaching for a clean strip of cloth which she laid across the table. "I'll pack some for all of us. We can break our fast once we're on the road to Bitra Hold." The tone of her voice now had a lilt of excitement to it despite her earlier out burst. She had family at the main Hold, a sister and two brothers. It was over a half a Turn since their last visit and she had the twins, born over the long winter, that she looked forward to showing off. As she sliced bread and cheese, and wrapped it all up, she started to compile the mental list of what they would need to get them through the double handful of sevendays. She had already planted greens, legumes, orange and white root, tubers and herbs, both seasoning and medicinal, but due to the late spring, even the fastest growing plant had another six sevendays before they could be harvested. She might be able to find some wild cress, early berries and if she was very lucky, some missed nuts from last fall, but not nearly enough. As it was, she was rail thin from trying to keep the twins fed.

In no time, chores were done and everyone was in the wagon. Tahon, Marnia and little Lennsa on the front seat with Tomun in the back, Bernessa in one arm and a hunk of sharp cheese in the other. With his legs swinging over the edge, and Bernessa dozing, he munched happily on his food, excited about the trip to the Hold. It was still a bit cool even though Rukbat shone brightly overhead and Bernessa was wrapped warmly which helped keep him warm as well. Spring in the mountains, especially early in the day, was often cool until mid-summer. He had heard his ma and da tell stories about how further south it would get so hot in the middle of the day that people felt like they were walking through water. They even took naps in the middle of the day and did the hardest work early in the morning and later in the evening. That was something he just couldn't imagine; taking naps like a youngling in the middle of the day! He shook his head. People sure did odd things.

Tomun's mind wandered as the team of runners plodded along the narrow track that led from the hold to Bitra road. Da had taught him his numbers for even a cot holder, da said, needed to know how many marks equaled a herdbeast or a bushel of grain. Ma had taught him his letters. She knew the basic teaching songs, but as she said laughingly, she couldn't hold a tune if it was in a stout barrel, so she didn't sing much. She would thump out the beat on the table top while he recited the words. But it was the songs about Pern's dragonriders that came to mind more often then not. Those he had learned from Journeyman Harper Pillan. Pillan was stationed at Bitra Hold. Tomun's family had wintered there twice when he was younger. One of those times was when his brother and two younger sisters had caught the fever and died. His parents had decided never to winter again in the main Hold. That meant the only contact they had with a harper was when Pillan made his once a turn trips to the surrounding cot holds.

Pillan knew about his family's feelings towards the dragonriders, and though he didn't understand them, he did respect them so he mainly focused on the learning songs, or small ditties that focused on holders. But, he was a sly harper, and he always managed to catch Tomun when he was alone, either tending to the livestock or doing his other chores in the warmth of the barn. It was then that the gray haired, long-faced harper sang the Teaching Songs about the Dragonriders. Tomun quickly memorized Moreta's Ballad and the Question Song with it's odd tuning but the saga of Lessa's Ride would always be his favorite. Quietly, he mouthed the words:

"Black, blacker, blackest,

And cold beyond frozen things,

Where is between when there is naught

To life but fragile dragon wings?

Cold as death, death-bearing,

Stay and die, unguided.

Brave and braving, linger.

This way was twice decided."

It was the next stanza, that called to him, that made his heart sing with hope and dreams and dragon wings.

"Who wills,

Can.

Who tries,

Does.

Who loves,

Lives."

2015 4.4.8 Bitra, Spring mid-morning, early afternoon

By mid-morning the rough track transitioned to the hard flagstones that lined the main section of the road leading to Bitra Hold. The sound of the runner's hooves changed, clopping instead of thumping. That sound meant they were getting close. Ma had taken Bernessa long ago, and now Tomun made his way toward the front of the wagon so he could see ahead of them instead of behind. Kneeling between the few barrels and bags of goods gathered for trading at the Hold, he held onto the inside edge of the wagon bed and the back of the seat to keep his balance. Finally the road started up a slight incline and the first of several guard stations, a one room stone cot, came into view. A sleek runner was tied the hitching post off to one side of the cot. The bay's eyes were half closed, his lower lip loose, as he dozed in the spring sunshine. His ears flickered a bit as Da pulled their runners to a halt but beyond a flick of his tail, he ignored the visitors.

A short, barrel chested man swaggered out of the cot. He had dark, unruly hair and was dressed in the Hold colors, dark red with white piping, and Bitra's device, a dusty red field with four white eight pointed stars, on his chest. A sword hung at his right side, and stout club on his left. He approached the wagon, and addressed Tahon, asking their names and their reason for coming to the Hold. Tomun tuned out the conversation, more interested in looking at his surroundings. The area directly around the cot for nearly a dragons length, was green free and covered in stones. The trees across the road grew so much larger then they did closer to their own hold, and the underbrush was carefully trimmed so that any Thread that got through Benden's wings would be hard pressed to get a hold. After a few minutes, a jerk brought his attention back just in time to see the guard step back, one hand raised, waving them forward as his da slapped the reins against the back of the runners and clucked them forward.

It was almost noon when the Hold proper came into view but they stopped well before reaching the main courtyard. Tahon brought the runner team to a halt in front of a small stone cothold. Across the lane was the Hold's Weaver Cot, where Marnia's sister, Lulana, was a journeywoman. Tomun jumped down at his da's direction to see to the runners just as two of Lulana's children came running up.

"You're just in time!" Cawlia screeched, loud enough so that both babies started to cry. "They're here! They're here!" She was a scrawny ten turns old, barely tall enough to see over the wheels of the wagon. Her sister, Nella, was almost eight, and the exact opposite of her older sister. Where Cawlia was thin, she was plump, where Cawlia was loud and excited, she was quiet and calm.

"Who's here? And stop screaming, you've woken the babies." Tomun growled, shifting his feet and straightening his shoulders so he would look much older than his 14 turns. On the wagon seat, Marnia hid her smile despite the fact that she was rocking each twin frantically, trying to bring their startled cries down to a manageable level.

"The dragons!"

Luckily Cawlia's words came after Tomun had tied the runners to the hitch. "Dragons?" His heart started to pound and it was suddenly hard to think. "Dragons are here? In the Hold? But why. . .?" His eyes went to the sky, instinctively searching the eastern sky for Thread's gray cast.

"It's a blue, the color of berries! And the prettiest green you've ever seen." Cawlia leaned toward him and lowered her voice in to a loud stage whisper. Tomun had always thought she'd make a great harper; she had a flare for the dramatic. "There are eggs on the Hatching grounds," her eyes grew large. She knew very well the effect her next words would have on her seldom seen cousin. She knew his not-so-secret dream. "And they're here." She paused, eyes dancing with mischief. "On Search!"

Cawlia's words reached Marnia's ears, despite the twin's dwindling sobs. Eyes wide, she turned toward Tomun. "Tahon! Did you hear? Cawlia just told Tomun there are dragons here...on Search!"

"Shards and shells!" Tahon said, climbing down from the wagon's seat. His eyes were focused on Tomun's stiff form, just visible beyond the back of the runners.

"Hurry!" Marnia demanded. With a mother's instinctive knowledge, she knew that something was about to happen. Something that was inevitable but not the outcome she and Tahon wanted. The twins picked up on the tone in Marnia's voice and their crying went up a notch. "Before he does something rash. . .TOMUN!"

But it was too late. He was already out of sight.