Dragon Rising
A fanfiction by Plikkit based on the novels by Anne McCaffrey.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people, places, or concepts of Pern. Those are solely credited to Anne McCaffrey, in all her wonderful talent.
Note: Any incorrect facts, misspellings, or un-canon things…don't burn me. Please, just tell me, so I can fix it.
---Chapter IV----
Caprioth swerved suddenly to avoid a careening clump of Thread, causing F'bran to snatch at the riding straps as his heart beat wildly in his chest.
"Shards, Capri! We really are amateurs at this," he mused, with gentle humor to soothe his nerves. He and his great bronze soared with the Fort Wing under F'delten today, flying this unpredicted Fall at Tillek. The sky was a clear and vivid blue above them, although it was riddled with the great sheets of silvery Thread that rained down in their scourge. F'bran winced as he saw W'hep and his green Darinth take a frightening stab through the wing and blink between, only to reappear moments later two dragonlengths away.
Then, Threadfall captured his attention again as Caprioth bugled in defiance of his ancient foe and dove bravely into a tangled mass that plummeted to the lands below. His dragon flamed sizzling breath, searing the enemy before it could penetrate Pernese soil. F'bran praised his dragon adamantly for emerging unscathed from such a battle, but Caprioth, fully engaged by his innate fierce spirit, only asked for more firestone.
F'bran obliged, and listened as the great jaws masticated and felt the muscles in the neck tighten to swallow it.
Fire, sear, demand, soar. There was a rhythm to fighting Thread that pulsed in the soul of every dragonrider. Before coming to Fort, F'bran had been ignorant of such a feeling. But it was nearly addicting; the freedom of riding a flaming dragon to battle and win against a mindless enemy.
Was the Fall already past? F'bran craned his neck in different directions, utilizing his keen vision to spot any clumps of Thread. Caprioth's muzzle was smoking but the dragon seemed pleased, and winged easily through the air to fly wingtip- to- wingtip with F'delten's Xornth, who reported that there had been no casualties this Fall. They were soon joined in formation by the remainder of the Wing, the mutual victory present in the confident wingbeats and bugles of the dragons and the grins of their riders.
F'bran! Caprioth suddenly said, and the note of alarm in his voice snapped F'bran unpleasantly back to reality.
"What is it, Caprioth?" he asked quickly, as the dragon dipped out of formation to hover above a patch of scraggly trees, wings stroking silently.
In the water.
They were flying off the coast of Tillek, a thumb of land that jutted out into icy northern waters. The fact that anything could be in the water that could attract his dragon's undivided attention made him extremely nervous, and as Caprioth glided out over the rocky coastline, he peered tensely into the dark green surf.
He nearly let go his grip on the straps. There, bobbing limply in the white- capped waves twenty dragonlengths offshore, was a lone man, the straps from his riding gear trailing off behind him in the currents. Near him floated the shape of a blue dragon, mostly submerged in the water except for his muzzle and one wingclaw. How the pair had got there and what state they were in, he could only guess.
Xornth asks what's the delay, Caprioth told him as the two flapped in circles a few dragonlengths above the rider and dragon.
Oh, quickly, Capri, tell Xornth and another to come here right this instant; there's an unconscious rider and his blue in the water, F'bran said to his dragon, feeling panic fluttering in his stomach and quelling it.
The Wingleader's great bronze appeared over the hill above the coast, along with A'wer and bronze Sarth.
Xornth says F'delten's shocked.
"I would be too, thinking there were no casualties and then we find this poor bloke!"
This rider is not of Fort.
Not of...? Now, how could that be? F'bran thought. "Can you bespeak his dragon?" he asked of his beast.
There was a pause, then, Both are unconscious. Sarth and Xornth say we're to lift them out. We are to take the rider.
"Agreed," F'bran said grimly, wondering how in the name of the Egg this could have happened. But he directed Caprioth to make a direct descent toward the dragonrider.
His dragon's muscles strained to keep them aloft such a small length above the water. Delicately, he reached out with his forepaws and wrapped them as gently as he could around the man's chest and knees.
Then, eager to be up into the open air again, the bronze gave two great beats of his wings and they rose in a spray of salty, frigid water, Caprioth grasping the unconscious rider.
"We can't take them between when they're sopping like this," F'bran said, as he and Caprioth turned to watch Xornth and Sarth nudge tender hindclaws around the bases of the unfortunate blue's wings, so as not to pierce soft membrane. "We should land and warm them up. Tell our Wing to find a clear spot and start a fire."
I have told them. We need to get this man warm.
It was early summer, and luckily the air temperatures did not necessarily emulate that of the north sea's waters. The weather was pleasant enough, but F'bran did not have high amounts of hope for the convalescent pair. The dragon wasn't dead, or the others would have dirged for him, but there was no telling how long they had been submerged in the cold, or how they had even managed to get there. Dragonriders didn't normally just fall from the sky. Perhaps it had been an accident going bewteen. If that was the case, the two could have been in much more trouble: solid rock.
Minutes after the fair of dragons descended toward the land, F'bran saw smoke rise from the fires they were obediently building.
Caprioth winged toward them on his own, the limbs of the rider dangling sickeningly.
As they landed, nearly every rider rushed toward them with questions and a complete disregard for the order that was necessary in the situation.
Exasperated, F'bran took action. "This rider and his dragon were found floating in the water offshore!" he yelled from atop Caprioth as the dragon carefully laid the man on the ground. "He's not of Fort. Take him and warm him up quickly."
F'bran knew he hadn't the authority or the experience to direct a Wing of dragonriders that way, but Xornth and F'delten were still dealing with the blue and the circumstances hadn't allowed for any more delays.
The redhead leaned wearily against his dragon, breathing, "Capri, I'm so glad you saw that man in the water from such an altitude. You are without a doubt the cleverest dragon on all Pern." He affectionately caressed the bronze's eye ridges, smiling as his eyes whirled blue with content and satisfaction. Caprioth was pleased with himself, but not overly so, F'bran thought, as most bronzes could be. Caprioth was, of course, the finest beast among them, but the dragon never seemed to exercise the rather arrogant mentality of many of his fellows.
When Xornth and Sarth winged their way over the ridge, there was a collective gasp among the grouped riders, and several of the dragons gave short, brassy calls.
The limp blue hung between the two bronzes, looking utterly broken. All lids were closed over his eyes, both sets of legs dangled like his rider's. F'bran cursed under his breath and yet again tried unsuccessfully to concieve what sort of tragedy had befallen the pair.
Xornth had apparently contacted two blue dragons and their riders from the Wing, for the four immediately stood and moved to face the descending ones, the blues crooning anxiously.
When the bronzes neared the ground, they immediately backwinged strongly to prevent the blue's neck from becoming bent. Carefully, they flew in reverse to drape the dragon along the ground, even flying back to snatch at his tail and make certain it was straight.
Then, the two blues settled themselves on either side of the third, curling up to lend their heat to their charge. Piles of wood and torches lit from other fires were brought and soon four strong blazes burned around the trio. The two conscious blues' eyes gleamed the yellow of worry.
F'delten approached F'bran, who was still stroking Caprioth off to one side. Both bronze riders stood together and quietly took in the breathtaking sunset that ironically splashed the sky after the five-hour Fall and tragic discovery. Around them, evergreen trees rose, giving the patch of sky above their spacious clearing a fringed and scalloped edge.
"Shards, but Caprioth has true dragon's vision," F'delten finally said, clapping a hand on the younger man's shoulder and smiling weakly. "You did well. Give your bronze my most sincere thanks." He hesitated, then went on. "These riders are exhausted from fighting Thread. I am reluctant to keep even a few caretakers here, but..." he trailed off.
F'bran chuckled. "Lelth doesn't look like she'll be abandoning our nameless rider anytime soon." F'delten turned to see the green sitting protectively next to the still-unconscious man, her forepaws cradling him by a roaring fire. Her whirling red eyes dared anyone but her own rider to approach.
"Still, I'm going to tell Xornth to direct the rest of the riders home. Lelth, Drianth and Sakarith and their riders will stay," F'delten explained, naming the blues who tended to the dragon. "As will you, A'wer and I. I'll ask someone to come back with provisions so we can set up to sleep here and hopefully," he said grimly, "get some life out of this pair."
News of the imperiled rider and dragon flew, literally, on dragonwings back to Fort Weyr, where it was spread and exaggerated amongst the residents over days and eventually reached Saya's ears in the form of F'teen and B'led.
"They say that the blue had been abducted by the Red Star and then thrown back down to Pern without a thought! And the blue's cry of terror somehow summoned his rider to his side!" F'teen exclaimed with an excitement that bordered on perverse.
"Not," B'led said, shooting a trenchant glance at his companion, "that we believe that tale. I heard Sh'ael, a brownrider from F'delten's Wing, telling the actual story to his weyrmate. A bronzerider and his dragon spotted the pair floating just off the coast up there in Tillek, and called others to aid. Some are still there, tending to them, three days later!"
"That sounds more believable," Saya replied, slathering oil on Valianth's hide. She had to admit that of the versions she had endured over the past few days, F'teen latest was the most bizarre. As if the Red Star had life with which to snatch a dragon from the surface of Pern.
Valianth had grown so much in such a short amount of time that whereas before she could sit comfortably and oil her dragon, Saya now had to stand to reach the top of her head. To massage her belly and feet, she had to squat uncomfortably. But, as a result of her dedicated efforts, Valianth's hide shined vividly, the hue of mature summer leaves.
"And they say green is an unlucky color," Saya muttered as she finished the oiling and stood back to admire a healthy Valianth.
They also seem to say that the Red Star can capture dragons, Valianth replied as she unfurled and stretched her growing wings.
Saya laughed at that, sharing the thought with B'led and F'teen who also appreciated the humor.
"Green is sharding beautiful," F'teen said loudly, looking over his shoulder at his slumbering Kabriith, who was of a shade lighter than Valianth but still handsome.
"I wish F'bran hadn't had to stay with those two, though," Saya voiced. She missed his company and guidance, although this time had given her practice with the unique sort of unified-independence that was characteristic of the Weyrs.
"I, for one, am curious as to how that bluerider ended up there in the first place. It's funny; if it hadn't been for that unexpected Fall..." B'led mused, absently finger-combing his brown-black locks.
Saya thought that was ironic, too: that a dragonrider should owe his life to the unpredictability of Thread that had drawn Fort to Tillek. She also harbored the hunch that it had been F'bran and Caprioth who had initially seen the endangered comrades, although there had been no specifics mentioned.
They were interrupted by Y'kiz, whose features had seemed to be enhanced after his Impression.
"Witarth and I are going to the pool to bathe," he told them. They all knew of the large, naturally warm spring that blessed a large cavern in Fort Weyr, but they had never seen it. "Do you want to come?"
"Are we allowed?" Saya asked, dubious.
"G'sas says that the dragons're now large enough to swim by themselves," he said, a glint in his eye. "Anyway, who'll take me up?"
I could use a bath, Valianth informed her rider, who sighed.
"I just oiled you!" she exclaimed, but truly she had already resigned.
The oil did its job. Dirt will only stick to it now.
"Fine, then," Saya said, but smiled.
It was a cumbersome task to weave through the inhabited tunnels and caverns of Fort Weyr with four unsteady dragons in tow. No longer true dragonets, not quite fledglings, they crawl-walked on their back legs, tails dragging behind them; the group received many a bewildered look. In fact, Saya was conscious of more than bewilderment directed at her.
Riders seemed to exchange glances as she passed, after giving Valianth a slightly disapproving look. She thought she glimpsed pity in the faces of cavern workers, and even, to her irritation, in a few bold drudges.
What's going on here? She thought, her annoyance reaching the level that she glared at a bronzerider when he cast her and her dragon a blatantly reproachful expression. Valianth seemed unconcerned by it all, so Saya did her best to disregard it. She was probably imagining things.
When the spring cavern was reached, luckily devoid of other riders, Valianth, Kabriith, Hirth, and Witarth eagerly splashed their way in, ungainly but happy.
Sacks of sweetsand in the corner were dispersed, and, after their dragons had cavorted for a time, each rider went to dutifully scrub his or her beast.
Valianth's eyes were whirling contentedly when Saya finished. Hurtling the empty sack to the rock, she simply stood in the water for a while, leaning against her Valianth, her joy.
We are together, Valianth said simply, and the pair enjoyed that fact to its fullest.
Abruptly, Saya thought of Ellan, the girl-turned-Queenrider, a friend whom she had not seen since Impression. Undoubtedly, she was being kept separate from the Weyrlings since Queens required a special brand of care. Worries of her boredom or loneliness were quickly abolished as she knew: neither Saya nor Ellan would ever be alone again.
To be continued…