Wills

(AN: Another shorter one, but important, begins the setup of bad guys! I really have no idea where this story is going at the moment, but its taking me for a ride, thats for sure. Reviews are LOVE!)

Tirelle woke with a start from a dream, then relaxed back into the warm bed when she realized who lay beside her. That C'rel never ceased to amaze. She slipped out of the furs to the bath, quickly scrubbing the dirt and dust of the practice grounds out of her skin. It was only just passed noon, although she had been very busy.

She heard C'rel rouse in the sleeping room and smiled. The man had stamina, that was certain, but something bothered her. During their lovemaking, his eyes had taken on a wild, possessive look that did not suite her at all. Frowning, she decided to end the tryst. She would not avoid him, that was too obvious, and there were subtler ways to distance herself from the dragonman. She would miss him in her bed, since he was by far the best lover she had had, but possession was not something she was interested in. Let those ninnies in the Lower Caverns dream of mates and children, Tirelle had more to occupy her mind than that.

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On arrival at the Weyr, Tirelle had been introduced to the other bronze riders. Only one stuck out in her mind, one named E'bor. He was polite to a fault, but his eyes were cold, cruel, and calculating. B'lon, the blue rider from Z'fan's wing, agreed that he could be cold, but assured her that the man was faithful to Weyr as any, and a fine wngleader. Tirelle took the information with thanks, and decided to quietly keep an eye on the man. He was the only man in the Weyr who seemed immune to her charms.

Not that he wasn't attracted. She had seen him eyeing her hips as she walked passed. Then why wouldn't the man fall? What was he waiting for, Impression? But that wasn't a for sure thing, Maybe he was waiting until he was sure she wouldn't Impress, to be certain he could have her without competition from the other bronzes. If that was so, he was sorely mistaken. There were many brown, blue, and green riders that held more attraction for her than the stoney bronze rider.

She had tried to seduce him, as she had all the bronze riders. She had wanted to know what each rider was like when alone, and impassioned. If she did Impress, her and her queen would have to choose the strongest of them to be Weyrleader. All that nonsense about the strongest and fastest was rediculous. The queen had to consent to the mating, which meant the rider had to consent to the man

Tirelle broke from her thoughts as she walked out into the Bowls bright sunlight. She walked down to the lake and flopped onto the sandy shore. Two blues and a brown were bathing, sending waves her way, but none were large enough to wet her.

Unlike other queen Candidates who locked themselves inside, away from the great beasts, Tirelle was fascinated with the dragons. She turned when she heard footsteps approaching, and smiled as she recognized the young man

"Afternoon, Tilec" she said with a smile.

The boy merely smiled in response. He had been brought from a small farmhold not far from the Weyr itself, a candidate for one of the thiry-seven mottled eggs containing a fighting dragon. So far the only one of the Candidates she had met, she liked Tilec's quiet manner, and they often sat together at mealtimes, or whenever they happened to meet really.

Today they sat in in silence, watching the dragons, each with their own thoughts. They looked as they heard the dinner bell peal, and rose quickly to reach the Great Hall in time to secure their favourite table. As they raced through the corridors, they dropped caution in favour of the thrill of speed. A bad decision, as it led to Tilec running headlong into E'bor as he exited the Hall.

E'bor threw Tilec to the floor in reflex, then sneered when he saw who it was that had hit him. Tilec glared up at the bronze rider, which caused a white fury in E'bor.

"Insolent child. You'd do well to remember to show respect for a bronze rider," he said coldly, drawing hid sword and aiming its flat side at Tilec.

Tirelle immediately drew her own blade, glad she had began carrying it with her. E'bor caught the sound and turned. He could not see the face of the figure standing in the shadowed corridor, but the figure wore breeches. Assuming it was another young man, E'bor faced him without fear.

"You think hard on that son," he said, "Crossing blades with a dragonman is an insult usually only forgiven in mortal combat. You still think it wise?"

"Tirelle walked slowly from the shadows, sword held ready in front, until she was bathed in light streaming in from the Great Hall's windows. "And you," she snapped, "crossing blades with a woman you may shortly call Weyrwoman? Who you may have to bow to and honour? You think THAT wise?" Tirelle did nothing to hide the threat in her voice, and she met E'bors hard stare with one of her own. "We behaved poorly, bronze rider, in showing such lack of decorum. Report us to the Candidate Master if you wish, as that is your right and duty. But drawing a blade on an unarmed man, whether or not you intended to only use the flat of the blade, is hardly an act worthy or a dragonrider, especially a bronze rider with hopes of becoming Weyrleader. Me drawing in response can hardly be seen as a disrespectful act in such circumstances, wouldn't you agree?"

Tirelle stood, staring down the bronze rider until he broke eye contact. With a curt nod, he sheathed his sword and went to go passed her. As he stepped beside her, he said acidly, "I will not forget this, girl."

"Neither will I," Tirelle responded. "My Lord," she added coldly with a slight nod of her head. The man stormed passed, his footsteps echoing loudly.

Tirelle let out her breathe in a whoosh as soon as E'bor was out of hearing. She slumped against the wall in relief that she had not been forced to fight the dragon rider. Bronze riders especially were a breed apart, and she didn't think she was a good enough swordsman to take one down in a duel.

At least, not yet.

"Tilec," she said, helping the boy off of the floor, "next time you want to pick a fight, make sure it isn't an armed dragonman."

Tilec smiled sheepishly, then turned with Tirelle to walk into the Great Hall, leaving the tension of the corridor behind them.