Authors Notes: insert general copyright stuff here, this is a work of fanfiction.

Sorry this took longer than I expected it (and came out a tad longer than I expected it). Read and review so that I know what to target when I go back and edit this. I tend to have trouble balance my action scenes with emotional scenes, so feedback on how I paced this in particular would be helpful. The next chapter should be out sometime next week. Keep your eyes peeled. Happy reading.

The Candidate II

1248.01.21

Igen Weyr

The knife trembled in Ikkith's hand, surprisingly heavy for its size. He considered his angles carefully, his movements were almost tender as he traces its silver blade against the cloths worn surface. He hesitated just a moment, nobody was watching, before he clenched the knife in his thin hands and dug it into the rider's shirt with predatory savagery. A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the Weyr.

Ikkith looked up lazily from his work. His initial alarm was quickly replaced with a feeling that he couldn't quite place. K'lain lay on the ground of the Weyrbowl, screaming and kicking and completely covered in what looked suspiciously like pond scum. Ierynth stood above him, covered in the same substance. The blue dragon carried an expression suspiciously like Deleriath's. He was obviously not pleased with his current situation. K'lain continued to roll around on the ground, coating himself with dust, he moaned, "It buuuurns! It buuurns like fiiiiiiiiiiire!

Ikkith smirked and went back to his work. While he was feeling much better than he had the previous day, but his brief illness had weakened him considerably. List had excused him from his normal chores, which were quite physically demanding, and found him alternate work. He had spent most of the morning cutting the Weyr's discarded garments into long strips for Big Brown Wing to train with. Watching the dragonmen burn and dodge his handiwork was highly entertaining, but paled in comparison to K'lain's 'death throes.'

Ierynth was agitated. Threadfighting was one of the few things that the blue dragon took seriously. He and K'lain were strong, if dangerously reckless fliers, being 'scored', even if it was only with mud, was an utter disappointment, Tell Ytterith's rider that it was Deleraith's fault

K'lain was too busy pretending to be horribly maimed to respond. His performance was having the desired effect. The rest of Big Brown Wing, terribly distracted by the screams and moans of their wingmate, were quickly succumbing victim to the floral-patterned thread a pair of unlucky Weyrlings were sprinkling overhead. Another bluerider landed next to Ierynth, covered with the same markings, unfortunately his rider's behavior was not as colorful as K'lain's. He merely looked annoyed.

Three greens and two more blues joined the 'injured' before Ytterith conveyed his rider's commands for his wingriders to land. The remaining riders of Big Brown descended in a messy circle loosely around their wingleader. K'lain was silent, although this was because he had scream himself hoarse, not from any order. B'rem looked murderous, "May I ask you what happened?"

There was a sudden babble as everybody tried to explain their shoddy performance at once. Most of their answers seemed to include the words, "K'lain" and "noise." Ierynth said, with a touch of pride to Ytterith, I did not scream. I knew my rider was not hurt

Ytterith conveyed this to B'rem, whom nodded, "Please men, do not blame this on the bluerider K'lain. While his interpretations of my commands were—unorthodox—you all must remember what we are trying to accomplish."

Somebody suggested, "Burn the Weyr's old laundry?"

"No M'voy. The reason we are here is to try to mimic an actual threadfall. I'm assuming, seeing that you all passed Weyrlinghood."

Nobody responded, although K'lain was furiously trying to think of some witty retort to his wingleader's question. Grimly, B'rem said, "People die. People die horribly. Their skin bubbles, the heat makes their eyes boil out. Dragons shriek and vanish forever. We should all be graceful that none of us have, or ever will see the aftermath of threadfall. If this was an actual combat situation those of you whom were badly scored would not merely sit in the Weyrbowl to chew the fact with your wingmates—oh no—you'd be screaming for your sharding mums, much like our good friend K'lain. "

K'lain was grinning broadly. J'nah looked miserable. The rest of Big Brown was not far behind him. The drill had been usually grueling, and their shoddy performance would undoubtably inspire B'rem to bring their training to new levels of intensity, "—Now, I'm not going to bother giving you all criticism, because I can say with utmost honesty that I've seen wherries fly better than you louts. There is no way we will beat old left-arm's wing in the games this spring if we keep it up. Now next we are going to--"

B'rem was interrupted but his wingsecond, "Excuse me brownrider."

Although obviously displeased with the interruption, B'rem let P'lok continue, "We've been drilling all morning. The sun's nearly at its highest and I think that it may be prudent to break for lunch. If all of your riders are in the infirmary with firehead I doubt we'll have much of a chance against the Weyrling's Wing, much less Bridges Fell."

B'rem grunted noncommittally, obviously displeased that his riders would dare to suggest something like lunch...Ytterith's running commentary on the status of his riders irritatingly lingered in his head, Filbreth says he is hot. Piglioth says his rider is not comfortable. Ierynth says that it is all Deleriath's fault. Deleriath is very nice. I like her. Deleriath says her rider does not wish to continue. Eryth says his rider is hot… the brown continued, naming every single one of his riders. Resigned to the fact that most of his riders were in danger of melting, B'rem called for a break, threatening, "If any of you try to skive practice it'll be watchduty for a sevenday!"

Judging from the morose looks shared my most of the dragonriders in the dining cavern, Big Brown had not been the only one two suffer a disappointing morning. There was not a single wingleader that looked proud of their men, as a slow precession of riders sought refuge from Igen's sun. B'rem had tried to coax his wingriders to sit with him and P'lok, but for the most part they dispersed, unwilling to spend their entire break going over difficult maneuvers. K'lain and J'nah found a table in the corner. J'nah was unusually disheveled, he hadn't bothered to tie up the lose pieces of hair that fell around his face. K'lain didn't really care to notice, he was far too preoccupied with his own performance, "Man, I really should have been a harper—did you see me—oh look, it's List!"

He stood and waved broadly at his fellow bluerider. She looked just as haggard as J'nah, if not more so. Slowly she picked her way through the cavern to their table. K'lain flagged down one of the candidates for a pitcher of fruit juice. The boy avoided his master's steely stare. List shook her head, "You wouldn't /believe/ what these boys are capable of doing to one another. Animals."

K'lain's exuberance would not be deflated. He poured List a glass of juice and nodded, "I know. I was one once too you know."

List massaged her eyes, "I need something stronger than klah."

K'lain clapped her on the back and whispered quickly into her ear, "Please realize my dear that things could be much worse."

He was referring of course to J'nah, whom had not said a word since they sat at the table. He was unusually pale and toeing the edge of panic. List quickly looked over the greenrider and shook her head. It bothered to her see J'nah in such a state. His behavior was not only abnormal, especially for a Weyrborn man, it was dangerous. She caught K'lain's eyes ad asked quietly, "Soon?"

He nodded, "Probably today, tomorrow at the latest."

Although List knew that J'nah was essentially oblivious to anything directly outside of his own head, she didn't like talking about him like he wasn't there. Although his eyes were listless and he wasn't blinking quite as often as a normal human should, he was still sitting right in front of them. She turned to J'nah and tried to look him in the eyes, "J'nah, are you ok?"

No response.

"J'nah, c'mon, I know you can hear me."

He nodded uncertainly, and then shuddered violently. List reached over the table and tried to place her hand over his, but he flinched away. K'lain muttered, "C'mon List, it's useless, let's try to get something to eat before B'rem calls us for afternoon practice. J'nah will be fine."

Reluctantly List turned her attention to her klah. She listened inattentively as K'lain filled in the heavy silence with nervous banter. Something like hunger growled in her belly, but she couldn't find the desire to eat. Her mind kept returning to the dead look in J'nah's eyes. It was an expression that she had seen only on a few unfortunate individuals, and cared deeply never to see it again. Although she knew that her concerns were unfounded, she asked J'nah, "So, how is she."

"Asleep," he said this very flatly. There was an uncomfortable silent that K'lain tried to fill by humming the chorus of one of his favorite drinking anthems. J'nah broke the silence, but his voice was unnaturally high and strained, "I think. I think I may go lay down for a bit. Yes. K'lain, please tell B'rem that…that I won't be around. I'll. I'll. I'll see you all around okay?"

K'lain waved him off with one hand. His other hand was occupied trying to keep List from following him. He shook his head, "List, you're not going to accomplish anything. We just need to pretend like everything is perfectly normal. Let the whole ordeal end itself quickly."

She narrowed her dark eyes, "It isn't right of you to make light of this."

"But I'm not. That's why I'm starting to get agitated. It's like walking on eggshards with the lot of you. J'nah needs to get over his fears. You fawning over him is not going to help matters. It's like, like when your dragon is frightened, the last thing you want to do is panic. You'll just panic him more. It's the same with J'nah. Now please me pet. Let's put this unpleasant matter aside and dig into some lunch," The bluerider cast a furtive glance over at his wingleaer. B'rem was nearly finished.

List however, would not be so easily convinced. She nibbled half-heartedly at the end of a redfruit. K'lain sighed exasperatedly. It was not his fault that J'nah was such a miserable and flighty man. List needed to learn that she was not going to fix him, no matter how hard she tried. He mused upon that point for a few moments before saying, "As much as you deny it, you're still such a woman."

Although K'lain said the words casually, he knew exactly what reaction he was about to invoke. The dark glower that had been hovering on the edge of List's facial expression erupted into an angry scowl. Had she been a less dignified woman she would have struck the other bluerider with all of the force within her wiry frame. Seething silently she stood up, trying to find a retort that would know affirm what K'lain had said. Finding none she cast K'lain a look that would've terrified a lesser man before storming out of the dining cavern, scattering anybody whom dared tried to stand in her way.

K'lain let out a long, low whistle. It was quite unfortunate that his friends were being such dunderglows, but as always, it wasn't his fault. He looked around, suddenly bored with his situation, and spotted a group of people whom undoubtedly would appreciate his company much more than J'nah and List. Without a second thought, he stood and joined his table.

Halfway through pantomiming an elaborate story about an unfortunate social blunder one of his wingmates had made as a candidate a small jolt bolted K'lain's spine. His first impression was that Ierynth was conveying a message from Ytterith ordering him and the other members of Big Brown back to the Weyr Bowl for more drills, but then his vision quivered. He slowly lifted his arm off of the wooden table, but still felt sun warmed stone underneath him. He flexed his hand and felt the ghosts of talons griping tightly.

He cursed loudly under his breath as his vision shook again. He only had a few moments to consider his options, and unfortunately wasted those moments cursing anybody whom claimed that it was easy to call a dragon out of greenflight. Ierynth was on the chase.

Most dragons would have the decency to give their riders a spot of warning, or at the very least spare a few moments ferrying them to the greenrider's weyr. K'lain's blue normally did not overlooks such niceties, but this flight would be different. Deleriath's always were. It was fortunate that J'nah not only had a weyr accessible by foot, but that K'lain was very familiar with its twisting route. K'lain had made this trip uncountable times before, often so inebriated that he had to clutch onto the wall to keep himself from falling off of the world. He leaned heavily against the wall this time as well, fighting the dizzying sensation of vertigo as Ierynth launched himself skywards.

For the second time that day a blood chilling scream penetrated through the Weyr, but this time the noise was so wholly +not human+ that it caught the attention of many whom might've just written it off as a normal occurrence. Ikkith was among those whom looked skywards, trying to find the origin of the shrieks. It was strictly against the rules for candidates to ogle at greenflighs, but that just made them more interesting. Ikkith was only mildly surprised to recognize the creature streaking skywards, her belly was so dark that it was nearly black, it had to be J'nah's Deleriath.

Something was subtly wrong with the flight. From Ikkith's observations, and the general consensus of his instructors, greenflights were much more enjoyable than goldflights. Queens were responsible for producing more dragons, and thus were hardwired to be scornful of any male whom tried to mate them. Greens on the other hand knew intrinsically that their flights were just for sport. If Deleriath's shrieks were any indication she was not enjoying the experience, she was jerking through the sky in a messy panicked arch.

J'nah was the mirror of his green. He had plastered himself against the wall of his weyr in a pathetic attempt to hide from the riders that courted his dragon. Her list of suitors was unusually short. With the exception of the four behind her, most of the dragons which had expressed any interest in the rising green were quickly dissuaded by their riders.

Ierynth. Olith. Gilbreth and a blue that Ierynth could not recognize. K'lain paused momentarily at this, he was very well connected, especially within the masses of green and blueriders of Igen, seeing a stranger could only mean one thing…but it wasn't the time to think about politics. He squared himself and focused on climbing the last few stone steps to J'nah's weyr. As he pushed his was through the cloth draped over his entryway his mind gave an almighty quiver.

K'lain and Ierynth suddenly became a single entity. The bluerider remained solidly on J'nah's stone floor. He was aware, in a vague dreamy sense of his physical surroundings, but he could do nothing other than grope in desperate desire at the pale figure shaking and silently screaming in the corner. He let Ierynth take control.

Ierynth had always been the runt. His proportions were awkward and constructed by somebody whom obviously had very poor knowledge of draconic anatomy. His legs were too long and his wings stuck out in strange angles. His eyes bugged out as he bugled his propositions to Deleriath. Although the cries that fell from his throat were without words, their implications were utterly filthy. She was oblivious to them. Her mind was tunneled on the thought of escape. She paid no heed to the males behind her.

J'nah whimpered pitifully as ghosts of her pain became his own. His green was tearing through the sky in wonton disregard for her own physical limitations, every panicked wingstroke ripped muscles from bones. List boldly stepped forwards as Olith caught up to Ierynth. K'lain found himself pushing her away, miming Ierynth's motions. His blue was making twisting feints at the other males, trying to force them off course. Olith was undeterred, not only was he much longer than Ierynth, but he was also thickly built.

Had Deleriath been in her right mind, she might've been more successful in her endeavors of escape. Although she was normally fairly analytical, especially for a green, her frantic desire to get away clouded any chance of strategy. She was tiring, quickly, and void of the typical aerobics making a greenflight, her suitors were quickly catching up. This would be a brutally short flight.

It was a terrifyingly dangerous situation. Deleriath was essentially flying blind. Her own inhibitions were exponentially increased by J'nah's, yet despite her own, inexplicable flight-terror, physical drives were coursing through her. The dichotomy of desires would've been stressful even with the calming influence of her rider.

Her suitors were flying close behind, neck and neck with one another. Although Deleriath was oblivious to their antics, they were all utilizing extremely dirty tactics. Ierynth seemed intent on driving the other males out of the sky, being the smallest of the group by a significant factor he was able to perilously weave in between them. Olith was rapidly getting very agitated with Ierynth's tactics, and as they all rose skywards at an alarmingly steep angle, was beginning to refuse to get out of the other blue's bumbling way. The third blue, something about his color seemed dangerously off, was following a small distance behind the others. He was not yet out of the running, but he seemed exhausted before the flight even began.

Gilbreth, keen perhaps to show the blues their proper place, was also flying aggressively. He and Ierynth were swooping perilously close, their wingtips tangling. K'lain bellowed in Ierynth's anger. The blues passions had completely consumed him. He swung heavily in W'yak's direction. Fortunately he was still with Ierynth, whom was frantically trying to detangles himself from Gilbreth and lacked the coordination to land the blow. Olith and the graying blue flew past them. With a final push (making no effort to avoid scratching the brown) Ierynth pushed himself away from Gilbreth.

K'lain could feel Ierynth's fatigue fall upon him. He was panting heavily, as if his own breathing could help his blue catch his breath. He lustily stared at J'nah, admiring him not for what stood in front of him, but for the faltering green flying just out of reach. The circle of riders around J'nah was slowly closing in upon him. He was cornered.

Something in his eyes faltered for a moment. Deleriath's wing, abused and strained, suddenly froze midstroke. She quivered midair, but caught her balance before any of her suitors could take advantage of the situation. Her wingbeats were completely stiff and spent. They were quickly closing in on her. For the first time in the entire flight she turned to look at those behind her. They were all effectively strangers and were all equally terrible. She would not let any of them touch her. She pressed further, tumbling through the air as her muscles began to fail her.

She would not!

She would not!

Her body began to fall.

No. They shall not!

Olith suddenly surged forward with a surprising burst of speed. He might have been denied the daily rigor of wingdrills, but List has seen to it that her dragon did not become nothing more than a highly interactive housepet. List muttered in needy lust as her dragon closed in on Deleriath. She would be had. All greens had to be caught.

No. I shall not!

Her words dashed through J'nah with surprising clarity. He inhaled sharply as he realized her intentions, but was completely helpless. Her wants were his. It would be over. The fear, the pain, the sharp undeniable desire. It would be black. The seconds seemed to slow down into ages. Ierynth shrieked his indignation as he saw the other blue move in on Deleriath. He too surged forwards but it was much too late for him to make any difference. List was moving in on J'nah, the fierce protectiveness that usually burned in her eyes was replaced with an entirely different emotion all together. She looked like an animal. While the other riders had quickly made their exits as their dragons spiraled away from Deleraith, K'lain stood transfixed. Olith made contact with Deleriath, his neck twining around hers.

He shall not!

There was a sudden moment of clarity in J'nah's eyes as Deleraith inhaled (her last?) and made one final attempt to detangle herself from Olith. It was futile. She had no choice.

He shall not!

It would all be over in a moment…

List gasped as she realized what was happening, if J'nah sent Deleraith /between/ then Olith…without thinking she balled her hand into a fight fist and clocked J'nah as hard as she could, "Control her or you kill them both!"

K'lain, whom until that moment had completely dismissed the possibility that there was any potential outcome of the flight other than J'nah bedding somebody he didn't like and crying about it in the morning, stood in horror. For the first time in his life he was thankful that Ierynth was breaking free of the flight, returning (safely) defeated back to the ground. There was a sickening crack as List's first made contact with J'nah's nose. Blood was everywhere. K'lain waited to hear the sound of keening dragons.

After a few moments of silence he realized quite suddenly that Olith and Deleriath were not lost forever, rather they were safely locked in the mating embrace…as were J'nah and List, broken noses aside…K'lain adverted his eyes in a sort of disgusted horror and stumbled out of his friends weyr.

A few women, weyrfolk or drudges K'lain did not know, had gathered outside of J'nah's chambers, waiting for the losers, more than willing to provide some release. Flights could be sharding unbearable to lose. K'lain looked over them briefly. The lust that had consumed Ierynth was still funneling through his brain. Momentarily he reached out to touch the check of one of the girls.

Her eyes were brown, but a light honeyed brown, flicked with sun. Eager eyes. Faranth they were just like J'nah's. K'lain pulled his hand away and adverted his eyes. The sounds of his friend's lovemaking was making his stomach churn in something like jealousy. He looked at the girl, he thoughts returning to J'nah, and much to the disappointment of the group, quickly retreated to his own weyr, calls of "tease" following behind him.

The glows had gone dark, but some sunlight still flitted through into the room. K'lain tried to clear his head, ignoring the demands his body was making. He was entitled to J'nah. He was the one who would have to listen to him complaining about the flight, he might as well have been the one to win it, J'nah's preferences bedamned. The bluerider sat roughly down on his cot, it creaked under his sudden weight. The momentary silence was broken unexpectedly. Ikkith had emerged from the shadows of the weyr. His face was unreadable. He seemed so much more delicate than his brother.

The candidate looked at the floor, "Ierynth returned a few minutes ago. He seems quite agitated."

K'lain stared at the thin lines of his body. Ikkith's complexion was pale, almost dusty, especially in the low light. He started, "—I just lost--" but broke off and demanded, "What are you doing here?"

Ikkith smiled esoterically and met K'lain's eyes. The candidates eyes were expressionless. The bluerider wondered momentarily if they had always been so dull. He didn't say anything, but it was obvious what he was doing. K'lain reached out and found that he was grasping Ikkith's bird-thin wrists like a drowning man. Ikkith's smile continued as K'lain rose under Ierynth's savage direction.

As his lips met Ikkith's he knew that he had failed J'nah utterly and completely.