Disclaimer: I don't own Pern. I do, however own most of the characters in this story.
Chapter Eleven: As it All Comes Out
Tristan waited anxiously. Finally he just had to go see if they were there yet. He raced out of his house, pausing only to grab his skateboard, helmet and the two packages he had been packing all morning. The backpack was a weight on his shoulder, mainly from the laptop, and he took care to not bounce it or its other contents: his lunch, the big tube of some gel that was good for injuries that his mother called 'arnica' and a roll of bandages. He had found both of these last in the First Aid kit in the bathroom under the sink.
Protected in the second bag was a small, beautifully carved lap harp, which he had found in the attic a while back, dusted off and learned the basics of how to play. He thought that the dragon, so lonely without anyone to talk to, might enjoy some simple tunes. His mother, a professional harpist, said that it was from his great grandmother, and had started teaching him. By now Tristan had the basic knack down.
He paused at the last street dividing him from Central Park, then picked up his skateboard and dashed across in typical New Yorkien disregard for streetlights. Tristan resettled the harp cast on his shoulder, set the skateboard down and sent it rolling. With a few strides he leapt in a practiced motion on it and turned just as easily to avoid a streetlamp. Impatiently he raced through the trees on the asphalt path. At the place he had entered the trees last night he flipped up his skateboard by slamming down on the edge and caught it, then looked around casually. Finding no one he stepped of the path and after a minute came to the tumbled trees and Thyrath the Golden.
Greetings to you, little Rider, she responded. Tristan frowned, puzzled at her remark.
Rider? he asked. What?
Thyrath blinked down at him. Dragonrider. I believe you would be a good rider. I am not wrong often.
I name you Dragonrider, little one.
000
Nairyry threw the door open and strode angrily out of Jessica's room. In the kitchen Jess was getting up from the floor while a man, with one of the beer bottles Jess had named for her in one hand. An empty one had smashed on the ground.
Like a tsunami just before it strikes Nairyry strode up to the man, whose arm was raised to strike her friend across the face again, and grabbed it in a one-handed grip of dragonrider steel muscle. She reached down and offered the teenager her other hand. Jess started to protest. "Nairyry, you should-"
"Never mind what I should do." Her eyes, burning with fury, never left the man's. "Go into outside please. I'll rejoin you in a minute. Go!" she ordered when Jess faltered. Then she sprinted to the door, grabbing her keys, wallet, flute case and jacket on the way and went down in the elevator to wait for Nairyry on the Lobby benches.
Back in the kitchen, the dragonrider glared at the man, still holding his arm. "Tell me," she said, voice deadly soft, "that you are not her father."
"I am, 'n you've no right to let her off a beatin' she deserves!" He twisted, trying to free himself from her grasp. When he tried to hit her with his other fist she swiftly twisted his arm up behind him and laid her knife along his neck, jamming him against the kitchen table.
"There is not doubt in my mind" and her voice hissed with rage "that you more deserve a beating than does she. She has courage, strength and compassion, even after you've been punching her like that for years, though I've no idea how."
He tried to squirm, but she kept a hold on him. "When we return later, you will apologize sincerely to her." Nairyry took her knife away slowly, then marched him to the bedroom and shut the door behind him. With that she sheathed her knife and strode to the elevator. One woman looked out of her door as she passed; a dark figure with a long trench coat flaring out behind her like the wings of an avenging angel and a face as hard as stone.
000
Jess looked up as the dragonrider strode out of the elevator. She looked more likely to breath fire than her dragon did.
They returned to Central Park.
After a minute Nairyry spoke, with iron control in her voice. "Your father will be apologizing to you when we return."
"I didn't need any help. I've managed him like this before."
"Even though he beat the pulp out of you. I saw those finger-marks on your arm, you know."
"It's not like I could escape it anywhere, you know. The city– the whole world's full of– them. People like that."
"All the worlds." The bitterness and anger in Nairyry's voice made Jess stop, but the dragonrider kept going, looking at the ground, her coat flaring out like wings.
"Yours too?" asked the teenager as she caught up.
"Yes." she replied shortly. "Yours. Mine. They're all the same. But there are good men, too, you know." she added, stopping to look Jess in the face. Nairyry took her friend's hands in hers. "I–" Again she paused, then looked around and gestured for Jess to sit with her on a nearby bench.
Her story came out, but it was hard. "I was– I was raped, when I was younger. Listen to me: the worst thing you can do in a bad situation, is give up, become a rock, taking everything and just hardening. You have done a wonderful job of it and I just waned to remind you. Don't fight back all the time like a bully, but don't ever, ever just take it, locking your emotions away."
She looked into Jess's eyes so she could see the younger woman understood. "Never just take it, but never give back too much, either. I didn't actually harm your father" she spat the word out "but I won't let him hurt you again. He had no right to do that to you."
000
Tristan was still blinking at the dragon's words when her rider and Jess came into view. "Hi!" he called.
Thyrath snaked her head around to nudge her rider. Nairyry threw her arms around the queen's nose, squeezing happily.
"Okay, so now that you're here would you please tell your crazy dragon that she's wrong? That I'm no dragonrider?"
"What's this about?" she asked Thyrath, frowning. The golden dragon turned to look at her rider with one eye, and the young woman could see herself in many of the facets.
He can speak with in his mind. Though he is not as powerful as Lessa, he is strong-willed enough to attract a hatchling.
Nairyry turned to Tristan with a calculating, thoughtful expression. "If Thyrath says this, then you must be."
"A dragonrider? Dragon friend, maybe…" He still looked dubious. "Me? A dragonrider?"
Thyrath seemed to smile, and ducked her head a little. "What's the matter with you?" he asked irritably.
"She is carrying eggs, Tristan," Jess said softly. "Prob'ly a lotof 'em."
"Eggs!" he gasped. "Oh, no… What happens when they hatch? We can't have a bunch of babies running around New York!"
"And there's another problem," admitted a suddenly weary Nairyry as she sank down to lean against her dragon's shoulder. "There had never been a riderless Pernese dragon in all of history."
Tristan and Jess looked at each other, then at Thyrath's wing. "I hope she can fly really, really soon," commented Jess. "'Cause I don't think we can keep twenty-five dragons in Central Park."