To clarify, this isn't an alternative to any Ninth Pass happenings. Everything with Lessa bringing forward the five Weyrs still stands, but there was a huge gap between the Eighth and Ninth Passes. This is my version of what could have happened (with some fantasizing) when Benden Weyr, expecting another Pass relatively soon, discovers that it's the only Weyr left. The Prologue was also a very minor part (more explanation than anything), so forgive me if I didn't get too detailed or set up the characters with the greatest motivation. B'lan and Marilla are gone now anyway, so no need to worry about them.
Roughly twenty Turns after the Prologue (now that I have fixed my math). You don't see B'lan or Marilla ever again, because they (and a good portion of Benden Weyr) contracted an illness and died (aren't I cheerful?). Therefore no one knows about High Reaches Weyr. Because B'lan's last message to Polika's queen said not to contact them again until either a new queen was hatched or Marilla's queen contacted them first, the High Reaches Weyr riders have yet to make themselves known to the new Benden Weyrleaders. But Teralth still hasn't clutched a queen egg, and the situation is getting desperate. With Thread rumored to be coming in just five Turns, High Reaches is getting nervous...
Disclaimer: Same as Prologue.
Chapter One: Eighth Interval (Turn 195)
Marra kneed her sturdy, long-haired mountain runner up the trace leading to High Reaches Weyr. Even dressed as she was in heavy wherhide and thick furs, she was still shivering from the bitter cold. High Reaches was the coldest of all the Weyrs, but now, in the dead of winter, it was even colder. Travelers not native to the region, unsure of their surroundings and unprepared for such extreme weather, were often discovered frozen to death in the spring. Marra needn't worry about freezing; she had traveled this path her whole life, first with her parents and then alone. However, by the time she came in view of the Weyr's ground entrance, she was more than ready to enjoy a nice, hot bath and curl up under a pile of furs.
"Halt!" a lone sentry called as he readied his spear. "Who goes there?"
"It's just me, Gilryn," Marra answered. "Or can't you recognize your own kin anymore?"
She didn't wonder that her cousin hadn't recognized her. Under all of her thick traveling gear, she became just a lump with eyes. But upon hearing the teasing phrase she always greeted him with, Gilryn lowered his weapon. He waited to speak until she had ridden abreast of him, well aware that sound carried unusually well over the snow-blanketed landscape around them.
"So the wherry hen returns to her nest at last," he teased.
"And a fine welcome my nest has sent for me," Marra said in mock exasperation.
"Most everyone turned out to greet the others," Gilryn mused. "Then again, the others were on time and were expected."
"I'm close enough," Marra protested.
"You're two sevendays late!" Gilryn exclaimed. "And you haven't even brought a candidate back with you."
"No one I met would have Impressed," Marra replied firmly.
"Tell that to the Weyrleaders after the Hatching," Gilryn said softly. "You realize that everyone will blame you if another hatchling goes between?"
"At this point, everyone pretty much expects one to," Marra said darkly. "I suppose they'll feel better if they have someone to blame."
Marra had lived her whole life at High Reaches Weyr, and every Hatching she could remember had lost at least one hatchling. The last clutch had lost the most; out of the twenty eggs clutched, four greens and a bronze had gone between. A full quarter of the clutch! Actually, no one really wondered that the greens had been lost. Ever since the holders' tendency to hide away their youngsters when dragons were spotted in the sky had forced the Weyrwoman to replace Search dragons with weyrfolk, it had become increasingly difficult to find young boys who would be acceptable to a green hatchling. Holders were raised differently than weyrfolk, and the dragons could tell. Sometimes it was good, sometimes it was bad, but it was always necessary to have both holders and weyrfolk to stand for a Hatching. The rate of reproduction in the Weyr was too low to provide all of the candidates, even with as few eggs as Teralth was clutching. As one of the weyrfolk sent to the Holds on Search, it was expected that Marra bring back someone. There would be many people angry with her.
"Oh, the Weyrleaders said that you were to go see them as soon as you got back," Gilryn said when Marra began to move further into the tunnel.
Marra only waved to show she had heard; her mood had darkened enough to throw her into a brooding silence. She wondered if Polika would be angry enough with her failure to send her out of the Weyr. It had happened before, when lazy, shiftless men and women had begun taking a noticeable toll on the Weyr's resources. Usually, the threat of banishment was enough, but some needed to have it carried out. Marra hoped that the Weyrwoman wouldn't think she had outlasted her usefulness. The time it took to ride into the Weyr Bowl, settled her runner with proper food and water, and trudge to the Weyrwoman's rooms was no more than it usually was, but Marra's dread slowed her usually indefatigable feet. Finally, she found herself standing outside gold Teralth's weyr. The queen opened one eye as Marra hesitated.
"Ah, you're back," Polika called from the inner weyr. "Come in, child. Teralth won't bite."
Despite hearing the smile in her voice, Marra felt an inner desire to bolt. She gave her head a shake, squared her shoulders, and shoved aside the thick door-hanging that kept out the cold. Polika was seated cross-legged on a thick rug as she pulled a needle and thread through what appeared to be a torn tunic. Though glows were placed in carefully spaced wall alcoves, a fire had been laid for additional warmth and light. Smiling as she stood, Polika gestured Marra further into the room.
"Ooh, you look frozen to the bone," she said with a shudder. "It looks like the sentry took my message a bit too literally."
She grinned wryly, and Marra felt herself grinning in response. The Weyrwoman'snotorious good humor was working its magic on her, and the warmth from the fire was bringing the feeling back into her hands and cheeks. She sat on the thickly stuffed couch at Polika's bidding, intensely grateful when the other woman shouted down the wall chute for hot klah from the kitchen. When the klah had arrived and both women had taken their first sips, Polika turned to her with a thoughtful expression.
"You didn't find a candidate," she stated simply.
Marra shook her head sadly, though her fear of banishment had faded in response to Polika's kindness. To her surprise, though, Polika smiled.
"This might actually work to our advantage," she said mischievously. "Marra, we're getting closer and closer to another Pass, but Teralth's clutches aren't getting any bigger, like they're supposed to. She hasn't clutched a single queen since we came here. S'por and I agreed that we can't take the risk of something happening to Teralth and there not being another clutching dragon in High Reaches. We may have come from Benden, but High Reaches is our home now."
Marra nodded. Her parents had talked often of Benden Weyr when she was a child, but she had been born and bred to the High Reaches. No matter where they had come from, High Reaches was home to everyone in the Weyr.
"That's why we've decided to try something we've all been cautioned against since anyone can remember," Polika continued, a serious glint coming into her eyes. "Marra, we've seen how you act around the dragons and riders as well as the weyrfolk. People seek your advice, your approval, even your criticism, and they do it almost without thinking. S'por and I, we are the Weyrleaders, but we aren't the Weyr's only leaders. You were born here, among dragons. The riders and the weyrfolk all know you. You know all about the running of a Weyr and the health of a dragon from being raised with it all. You've sat in on weyrling classes every season since you could toddle. The candidates you bring back always Impress. You have all the qualities we look for in a dragonrider. That's why S'por and I have decided that if we're going to let a green grow up to clutch, then we want you to be her rider."
Whew. This took a long time to update. I'm actually wondering whether or not I should have continued this a bit longer, to show Marra's shock, joy, etc., but I think the next chapter will do fine with that. So, I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing (mostly). As stated in the Prologue, I know greens are genetically sterile. I know. But for the sake of my inner mushy-self, put logic aside and go with it.
As always, if you've read this far, please review. No matter what it is you have to say, I love to hear it. It's very motivational. Also, the rate of chapter-publication is dependent on the number of reviews. If I don't get at least one new review, the story is stuck! (Not really, but please do review.)
