After a good deal of thought, I've decided to re-structure "Crimes" and divide it into three separate stories. This story is the first instalment of the trilogy, and will provide a good deal of political back-story which has been lacking in the original incarnations of the story. I apologize for delays in updates, but have a good deal of backlog for this story, and should be updating weekly. I am also looking for a devoted beta-reader, if you are interested please PM me to learn the details. This story is AU and loosely follows canon.

DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fanfiction. Dragonriders of Pern and all it's related concepts belong to Anne McCaffrey

1216.10.03

Ista Hold

Jebred poked his toe experimentally at the bubbling hole that the rockmite had disappeared into. He knew the moment the crustacean vanished under the tidal mud that he'd lost his prize, but still clung vainly to the hope that he'd be able to coax it out of its hiding place. He had watched the creature, which had been stranded by the low-tide, for some time with the sort of patience unusual for a boy his age. Although rockmites were of little interest to anybody other than young boys, Jebred couldn't help but feel as though some treasure was stolen from him. His expedition down to Blackstone Beach had been completely fruitless.

He gave the burrow a final shove, before losing interest and plopping unceremoniously in the shallow water. Jebred was making the unfortunate realization that although he had the entire beach to himself, such trips were much more enjoyable when they included friends. He sorely regretted getting into a brawl with Billiron the previous evening. Partially because his actions had clearly demonstrated to the other children the validity behind Billiron's claims that Jebred was nothing but a bully and a poor loser, but mostly because Billiron, four turns his senior, outweighed him by several kilograms. Jebred had previously possessed the unfailing confidence that there wasn't a 'brat in the whole of Ista he couldn't lick. Reality checks were painful.

He sighed, and shielded his eyes against the midday sun's harsh glare. He'd spent his entire life in maritime Ista, and through familiarity the splendour of his home's lush beaches was completely lost. The clear sky and cerulean ocean bored him. He scanned the horizon intently for a few moments, but quickly grew tired of the empty saline expanse. Part of him realized that his expectations for the day were entirely unrealistic and naïve, but he didn't want to admit his own foolishness. Although Blackstone could be treacherous for an adult to reach by foot, and therefore less popular than some of the more accessible beaches near his Hold, it was far from deserted. The rockmite had just been a distraction, his real quarry had been something much more elusive.

His attention was suddenly caught by a strange glint in the distance. For a wonderful, fleeting moment, he thought that maybe—

He squinted hard and tried to make out the brief sparkle that had caught his attention. He strained his eyes to catch another glimpse of the tell-tale glimmer that would've made the entire ordeal worthwhile, thinking longingly of all of the wonderful things he'd be able to do with a firelizard of his very own. A pretty gold thing, just like Captain Sarbine's Lady. His stomach twisted hungrily, pulling his mind back from fantasy. The sea was empty. The beach was deserted and he'd skipped breakfast that morning. Firelizards, especially golden queens, were for powerful men, not little boys. Whatever he had seen had probably just been some sort of illusion of the sun against the water.

Despite the absurdity of the situation, Jabred couldn't drag his eyes from the horizon. The illusion of sun reflecting off of a metallic hide had been too convincing to simply dismiss. Then he saw it again; a brief flash of something completely alien in the sky. Although Jabred was not a timid boy, something like fear had crawled into his belly as the revelation of what he was actually seeing came into focus. Far off in the distance, little more than pinpricks in the sky, but drawing closer with each breath he took, was an entire wing of flaming dragons. The sheer absurdity of the sight paralyzed him to the spot. As the waves obliviously dragged at his ankles, he tried to search his mind for a logical explanation.

The complete absence of any recollection of overheard gossip led Jabred to sinister conclusions. Whatever was transpiring in the distant skies most likely held malicious intentions for his home. Without another moment's hesitation, the young boy began the short, but treacherous trek back to his home, leg's flashing in the sun. He scuttled up the sandy dunes and hidden bramble paths at an impressive pace. By the time the Hold's stone facade finally came into play he was completely winded. Ista Hold, like most Pernese settlements tended to do in the absence of Thread, had swollen far beyond it's original boundaries. To compensate for this, and the fact that during an Interval the enemies rarely came from the sky, Ista's latest series of lord holders had organized a rudimentary military. The role of the gaurdsmen was largely ornamental, a testimony to a given hold's wealth: both in terms of marks and in men.

Much to Jebred's relief, the guardsman posted at the Hold's southern entrance was Captain Sarbine. Although the Captain had a reputation among the holdbrats as a man not to be trifled with, he had an unusually high tolerance for Jebred's antics. It would be several turns before Jebred would be old enough to understand the scandal implied by their strikingly similar features, and thus he merely assumed chance favoritism. Hands on his knees, Jebred panted heavily, and tried to explain to the bewildered captain what he had witnessed on Blackstone Beach, "--dragons! A whole Wing of—dragons!"

Sarbine leaned leisurely against the sun-warmed stone of his post, "You have to breathe boy."

Jabred, in his current state, was at a loss for how to impress upon the captain that there was no time to catch his breath, "Dragons! Blackstone peninsula—more than I've ever seen before."

A shadow of concern passed over the Captain's face. Although his sources for Hold gossip were much more tuned into truth, he too could not recall anything about visiting dragonmen: much less a large group of visiting dragonmen. Although Jabred was showing every indication of growing up into a man his father could be proud of, he was constantly at odds with his peers. Earlier that morning he and the Fisherman's son had woken up half of the Hold brawling. Sarbine thought that he could sense an edge of epic desperation to Jabred's garbled words. In all reality, all Jabred had probably seen as a rookie dragonman practising difficult manoeuvres away from the prying eyes of his peers.

Jabred, sensing the Captain's scepticism, was beginning to get frantic, "I saw an entire Wing. In formation! They were like marching men; only in the air!"

Sarbine sighed. Although he wasn't an exceptionally hidebound man. Never in the scope of his histories canon had the Weyr deployed it's dragons against the people that it was sworn to protect. Granted, it wasn't like modern history had chosen to fall in conventional patterns. It had been several generations since this Interval was supposed to end, and as far as anybody could tell, Thread was showing no indications of falling. An attack against the Hold wasn't entirely inconceivable.. The Weyr had put up it's standard series of grumbles at the latest tithe, but there had been no outward signs of unusual aggression.

Wearily, Sarbine concluded that it would probably be best to consult with the watchrider on the matter. The idea of reporting Jabred's story to any of his superiors made him cringe, and it seemed logical that Q'oka was the most likely of anybody to know what was going on. It was a pity that Lady was broody. Numerous attempts to train the little queen to care for her clutches under the supervision of human eyes had been met with failure. Although unpredictable in her own right, she was a more reliable messenger than a holdbrat, and wouldn't spill secrets for a piece of candy. He considered sending Jabred to Q'oka, but decided against it. Sarbine possessed a begrudging respect for the ancient greenrider, and it seemed prudent to ask him directly about such an important matter. Beside, the platform the old codger usually rested on was empty, so technically he could be anywhere. It was a perfect opportunity to get away from the heat for a short period at least. He smiled down at Jabred and said, "Listen, I'm going to go talk to the Watchrider and see if he knows anything. I'm sure that there is an easy explanation for your dragons."

Sarbine winked playfully at and placed his cap on Jabred's head with mock bravado, "Now, you watch the south entrance while I go find the crawler. Don't let any dragonmen in while I'm away—orders of the honourable Lord LaLoch."

Jabred watched as the guard briskly walked away. He knew, instinctively, that Sarbine had left him with very little real responsibility, humouring a child and putting the hold he had sworn to protect at risk were two very different things. However, he couldn't help but swell with pride at Sarbine's trust, and stand at attention: his eyes fixed on the sleepy harbour below. Ista Hold was unique in the fact that although it was a major hold, with the standard assortment of associated craft-halls in it's vicinity, there were very few roads which lead directly to the hold and it's surrounding territories. Unless one wanted to much their way through tangles of tropical flora and vague suggestions of muddy paths, maritime routes were the easiest to navigate. Ista Harbor was not only the heart of the Hold, but the primary venue of transportation for the entire region.

In the noonday sun the harbour's population had ebbed to the day's low. It's extensive fishing fleet was trolling the depths of Mikel straight, and the merchant's boats had long since surrendered their goods to the marketplace. Jabred watched the stragglers, mostly modestly sized vessels belonging to the Hold's populace bob sedately in the sun-bleached bay. Every few minutes Jebred let his eyes scan for the horizon. The sinking feeling that perhaps he hadn't seen anything all all, merely a mirage catalyzed by the sun off the water, began to grow in him. The idea of losing credibility in Sarbine's eyes was far worse than the implications of what he'd thought he'd seen down at the beach. Anxiously he prodded the dry, hard-packed dirt with his bare toe.

Then, quite suddenly, the sky ripped open. Jabred's bowels quivered dangerously, but he couldn't look away; fascinated by the drama unfolding below him. One second, Ista Harbor slumbered lazily. One second, the sky above the harbour was suddenly thick with dragons. There was no warning, they just suddenly where, as if somebody willed them into existence. One second, the entire harbour was an inferno of thick black smoke and flame. From his vantage point, Jabred watched an uncomprehending mixture of awe and terror. The ability of dragonmen to travel instantaneously between places was something that Jabred understood in the abstract, but as a general rule, to avoid startling a hold's herdbeasts, they never did so directly over holder territory. The idea that something so disproportionately huge could appear out of nothing shook the framework of Jebred's very mind.

The dragons, flashing a whirlwind of bronze, brown, blue and green finished their work in less than a breath's time. Their coordination as their spiraled through the sky was unrivaled by anything Jabred had ever seen. The huge beasts came within hands of each other, spewing flame as they flew, but they not once did they crash into each other; even in the tight confines of the bay. With military effectiveness they swooped and dove, systematically setting fire to every ship in the harbour baring the Istan flag. Within moments Jabred's vision was obscured by thick, foul smelling smoke. Then, as suddenly as they came, they left. The biggest bronze dragon flew high above the smoke, and made some sort of strange hand gesture. There was a momentary pause, and then they were gone: a trail of ruin left in their wake.

Jabred stood and watched dumbly as the ships continued to burn. The hold had sprung to life immediately, throwing their entire efforts on salvaging what could be salvaged and trying to work through the unspeakable. The dragons had never. They wouldn't dare. They couldn't...but the evidence was undeniable as it continued to burn. The day the dragons came. In the chaos nobody noticed the thin blond boy in the guards' cap. Even later, when his mother found him sitting on the watchrider's ledge, watching the smouldering wreckage of the harbour, she didn't notice the change that had overcome her son, "What are you doing up here Jabred?"

"Watching."

"Now don't be morbid child, everything is going to be fine. You're father's been looking for you all afternoon."

Jabred stretched languidly. He looked like a wild, holdless child, covered in grime and reeking of misadventure. He stared at his mother and asked suddenly, "Jabron isn't my father. Is he?"