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.
---Chapter VII---
"Six months in this Weyr, and you'd think I'd know where to find extra oil," Saya muttered to herself, her irritation increasing as her hair decided to spring free from its tail and frame her face with clingy wisps.
She was a fairly tall girl, and she was forced to stretch to her full height, balancing on the balls of her feet, to see the topmost shelf of a set in the supply cavern. Her muscles, now lengthened and toned by endless running about and preparations for flight, extended throughout her entire body as she strained to grasp one of the jars she saw upon the shelf. The stiff and scratchy man's tunic she was wearing did not help with the process.
"Let me help you," called a masculine voice, not quite amused in tone. Saya turned quickly from the shelf, dropping back to a steady posture. A bluerider, judging from the man's knots, was standing behind her, his expression not mocking but steeped in sincerity. She frowned slightly at his eyes, noting their peculiar dullness underneath his mousy hair.
He set the bucket of numbweed he'd been carrying on the ground and moved to aid her. He was a hand taller than she, and reached the jar of oil easily, grimacing as a muscle cramped in his shoulder. He handed it to her and hefted his bucket again, plainly intending to be off.
"Saya, Valianth's rider," Saya said quickly to his retreating back, more surprised than affronted at his lack of introduction, for every rider she had met thus far in Fort had been eager to make an acquaintance, or even a friendship.
He turned again to face her, looking preoccupied.
"L'orre, Klaranth's rider," he replied, rather blandly. Saya thought him quite apart from the usual temperament of a dragonrider; very outgoing, amiable, and confident.
Belatedly, she realized that this was the disconsolate bluerider that F'bran and Caprioth had rescued in Tillek six months earlier. Rumors had been worming their unsightly way throughout those riders not intimate with the happenings, so not much fact was known about the man other than the fact that he was affected with amnesia.
Then, she scolded herself for leaving him standing there while she ran through her thoughts. "How fares Klaranth?" she asked kindly, knowing that the unfortunate blue had been having difficulty regaining his ability to fly. It was still, after all this time, unsure what precisely had caused the dragon to plunge into the sea.
"He eats well; he says his wings are getting stronger. We're due to fly with the Weyrlings next sevenday."
"The Weyrlings are flying next sevenday?" Saya exclaimed, excitement immediately riveting her nerves like white fire. Of course, the dragonets had already been airborne on their own, riderless but graceful and exultant in the freedom of the sky. Saya reveled in the memory of Valianth's first leap from the top of the bowl, her developing muscles flexing underneath her smooth hide.
"That's what I've heard," L'orre said, with much less emotion than Saya. Then, he squinted at her. "You're the girl who Impressed to the green when you were a Queen candidate, aren't you?"
Saya instantly became rigid with annoyance. "I was a Candidate for the queen originally, yes," she said tartly. Why was it that people viewed her as some sort of disappointment, apart from the other girls who had not Impressed Inneth? She rode—well, would soon ride—a fighting dragon, an agile one, invaluable in Threadfall. "But Valianth is my partner. I wouldn't change that, ever."
L'orre's mouth thinned. "Of course," he said. "My duty to you." With that, he spun and shuffled out of the room, numbweed slopping in his bucket.
Though Saya was outwardly snappish, inside she despaired at his contempt. The amnesic rider with an invalid blue, who, it was heard, rarely spoke to anyone, had displayed a remarkable amount of emotion only to put her down.
He had certainly not been the first to speak to her in such a condescending way. Though most of the dragonriders at Fort were very kind to her, she couldn't help but feel a bit like an outcast. The strange way in which some regarded her was one she couldn't identify but was effective at discomfiting her.
At first she contributed it to an overactive imagination, impulses stimulated by Valianth's constant and sharp mental presence. She looked closely to see if it was the same way with other Weyrlings. And though she felt guilty and hypocritical doing it, she had observed dealings involving other greenriders, to ascertain if perhaps this was an attitude all those riding greens would have to endure.
But she could find not a single similar case.
Saya, Valianth said to her at that moment, reminding the girl that she had rider duties to fulfill. She hurried out of the kitchen to where her dragon was sitting on her haunches outside the entrance to the Weyrling caverns.
Saya hadn't neglected regular oiling, baths, and feeding in the slightest. A very healthy dragon sat there with her long neck extended, green hide gleaming in the pale winter sunlight, head tilted to stare into the sky. Valianth had grown explosively, her shoulder now a good four handspans above Saya's, and her wedge-shaped head now the size of Saya's entire torso. She was a very beautiful dragon, Saya thought for the dozenth time that week, as she opened the oil jar and proceeded to massage it into the hide.
You were delayed, Valianth said, lowering her head and bending her neck to look at her. By the bluerider? There was interest in her tone.
"He helped me get this oil off a shelf for you," Saya replied semi-calmly, hoping that her annoyance wasn't filtering through to her friend.
He does not remember things. That is unfortunate, Valianth went on with the subject. Klaranth will not speak to anyone but his rider.
"Have you tried speaking to him, Valianth?" Saya asked, curious.
Gidrith, Fylanth, and Caprioth have tried. If he will not speak to them, he will not acknowledge me, her friend replied, sounding unperturbed.
Thoughtfully, Saya rubbed a palmful of sweet oil onto a rough patch at the base of Valianth's neck.
"I would say you should try, but I feel like Klaranth and L'orre may want more privacy right now."
I agree.
Saya changed the subject. "L'orre did tell me that we're all going to be learning to fly next sevenday!" She smiled at her green in anticipation.
To fly with you! Valianth echoed happily. And to chew firestone?
"I don't know! But likely to go between."
That will be fun, Valianth stated. She gave a short bugle, which reverberated up into the Weyr bowl, and spread her translucent green wings. It was an impressive span, one that couldn't wait to beat at the air and gain altitude, gliding on warm, smooth currents.
The dragon's enthusiasm was infectious, and soon Saya found herself grinning and thumping her green on the back, climbing up to perch between her neck ridges as she had often done as soon as Valianth had gotten large enough. The dragon rumbled, and Saya forgot any dismay in the deep contentedness that now surrounded her. She cherished this bond, and in indulging in these moments, she could let go of worry and be unencumbered. Valianth was pure, and devoted to her; never had Saya felt such friendship and love.
Later that evening, when the dragons were asleep and the confines of the weyrling caverns were lit with substantial glows, Saya informed B'led and Y'kiz about what she had learned.
"Next sevenday?" B'led whispered excitedly.
"Our dragons have grown so large! It makes sense. They can't keep us cooped up here forever," Y'kiz added.
"I'm not sure if we're even supposed to know this," Saya told them carefully.
"Why not?" Y'kiz demanded. "Six long months…"
"There's no real reason why not," B'led answered coolly. "But who knows what they think?"
Saya shared their sentiments, but kept it to herself. She had decided that this was often a wise course of action, as one of the Weyr's nastier habits was to spread gossip. She said, with a hint of a nervous smile, "At any rate, I'm not even sure of my source. But I hope it's true, because it's about time that I rode Valianth like a proper dragonrider."
"We're still Weyrlings for seven months," Y'kiz grumbled.
"And a good thing, too, because we haven't even learned to use firestone yet. It'd be quite tragic for you and Witarth to burn down a forest doing unauthorized maneuvers," B'led countered.
Saya chuckled, not really sure if B'led had been speaking lightly or not. That was the way his personality functioned.
"True," she agreed. Then she said, "I wonder if Ellan and Inneth will be joining us in flight?"
"Not in firestone-chewing," K'wen, who had just joined them in their council by the wall, interjected. "Inneth would become sterile."
"We aren't stupid, K'wen," Y'kiz told him sharply. Saya regarded them both, hoping that nothing would escalate.
"With any luck," B'led said seriously to Saya, "our generation's Weyrwoman will be able to come out of her seclusion."
Saya rubbed her arms absently. "She has been kept rather separate from the rest of us, hasn't she?"
Nods answered from her companions.
"I wonder if she's anxious?" K'wen mused aloud.
"Are you?" Y'kiz demanded, a challenging look in his eye.
Saya thought inwardly of her own substantial tension. She was most worried about somehow harming Valianth through her incompetence.
Will I be a good dragonrider? She thought.
"Well I don't think we'll be turning loops in the sky," B'led told them steadily.
"But going between?" K'wen asked.
"I don't know."
"It's a sevenday from now, anyway," Y'kiz told them. Saya made a noise of affirmation.
B'led abruptly rose, saying, "Hirth's restless. My, er, duty to you."
Saya and the others grinned at how awkward the phrase sounded on the tongue. Were they even allowed to use it?
The three then bid goodnight to each other. Saya retired gratefully to her soft furs a few hands away from Valianth's sleeping bulk. The green's forepaws twitched in a dream, and Saya watched her tenderly for a few moments before resting her head to slumber.
Fort Weyr flew Threadfall the next day. Saya managed to sneak away from G'sas before he could assign her a meticulous task, and she wound her way through the rest of the lower caverns and stood just under an arching entrance at the base of the bowl to watch the Wings take flight. It was an early Fall, and the sky was just barely tinged pink, mingled with a cool green; a stunning background against which the dragons of the Weyr rose in a collective roar. Saya could feel the breeze stirred by the beats of their wings flow down into the Weyr bowl and flutter against her clothing.
"Saya?"
She turned, a smile still lingering on her lips, to face B'led, who raised an eyebrow. Saya shrugged, and gestured at the now-empty sky, and, understanding, her friend's face relaxed and his mouth twitched. Then, he shifted the two heavy jars he held, one under each arm. "Hirth's feeding, and G'sas put me on numbweed duty. I have to go collect it from the lower caverns."
Saya grimaced. "Here," she said, holding out her hands. B'led gave her a jar gratefully. As it was transferred, Saya noticed a thin, red line running across the flesh between B'led's index finger and thumb; a cut, freshly healed.
"How did you manage that?" she asked, brows furrowing in concern. There were many ways to injure oneself in a Weyr, that couldn't be denied; but such a precise laceration was odd.
B'led glanced up at the lightening sky above them. "I dropped one of these jars yesterday, and a piece sliced me." He then looked regretful. "I hardly expected G'sas to give me this particular job again."
Saya laughed. "Aren't you lucky? Come on, let's go fetch it, and hopefully there'll be no more chores left once we return."
They turned together to make their way down to the ever-simmering cauldron of numbweed, located in the central kitchen over an enormous hearth.
"Do you normally come up here in the mornings when they leave for Fall?" B'led inquired, his pace slightly uneven because his balance was thrown off by the jar.
"When they fly early like this," Saya replied. "There's something…breathtaking, about watching them go off like that. Although I'm sure it's not all glorious and beautiful."
B'led nodded gravely. "Probably not."
"But even so, six months later…" she trailed off. B'led nodded.
"Still seems surreal?"
"Yes! Except for…"
"Except for what?"
Saya bit her lip. She hadn't intended the last part to be heard; she hadn't even intended to voice it. But somehow, she still felt somewhat confused by the strange projections of disappointment she sensed towards her. She looked up at B'led, who observed her calmly, but with worry in his eyes.
"Just the, ah, time involved. It feels like we've been waiting so long to really become dragonriders."
B'led pressed his lips together for a moment, but then turned his gaze to the ground and, murmuring, "Heh. Not very patient, are you?"
She grinned, and felt a slight flash of guilt for lying to him. However, a moment of ethical weakness was better than burdening him for what was likely all in her mind.