A/N I am very sorry that this update has taken so long. I discovered that I needed to do some more thinking about this story than I originally thought. I have a ton of stuff written for D'rell's back story, which I intend to post as a prequel to this. Tristan however, had nothing written about him. So I had to take a break and think a bit about his back story. I cannot invent a character without a back story and in a universe as intricate and detailed as Anne McCaffrey's Pern, depth of character is very important.
Therefore, here is a little titbit of info on how Tristan came to be travelling through the galaxy in a cryogenic escape pod which includes a little bit of info on his background and back story too. This is in the form of a flashback/dream and the story will continue straight after.
Sorry if anyone thought I had abandoned the story, because I haven't I promise.
I don't own Pern and its original characters. The main characters in this story are my own invention; the rest I have borrowed from the esteemed and much missed Anne McCaffrey,
DS
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Somewhere in the vicinity of the Vega system, Pern date unknown as yet.
"This is the Captain speaking. We have collided with an unknown object and have sustained extensive damage to the ship. Engineering have shut down all non essential operations but there is still not enough power for life support with the ship at full capacity. Would all non essential personnel and passengers please report to the cryo and escape pod bays in order to abandon ship? I repeat: All non essential personnel report to the cryo centre and escape pod bays."
Panic: sheer blind panic.
Passengers running for escape pods; Crew rushing to get to their posts.
Fear: cold wet fear.
Cryogenic drugs administered; evacuees handed survival packs and packed into torpedo shaped escape pods.
Despair: deathly, gut wrenching despair.
Tristan cradled his head in his hands as he scrunched his body into a tight ball. All non essential operations the Captain had said in her announcement; apparently that included the telepathic dampening field set up around his quarters and without warning it had been switched off.
If he'd had warning then he might have been able to prepare himself for the wall of extreme emotion that hit him with the full strength of a stampeding bull; without warning every emotion felt by every single passenger and crew on the stricken ship crippled him and filled him with such pain he was completely overwhelmed and overloaded,
"Tristan, you have to get to an escape pod now," a voice called from somewhere beyond the mental noise.
Dumbly Tristan looked up, his eyes unfocused; his mind slowly going into shock under the mental bombardment,
"Tristan!" the voice called louder and he realised he was being shaken, man handled, lifted. His eyes focused for a second on the face; one of his few friends amongst the crew; his closest friend in fact; Cerise, a Petty Officer. She alone had noticed he had not yet reported for cryo prep and been issued a pod number,
"Can't think, Cerise…Captain didn't warn me." Tristan managed to gasp. Cerise had no idea how he must feel right now, but she understood what he meant.
That damn Captain, she had always been such a damn bitch towards Tristan and this was the final insult. To switch off his telepathic dampening field without warning him first, she must have known what it would do to the sensitive Telepath and Ship's Counsellor, but she had done it anyway,
"Tristan get on your feet, we have to get you to a pod." Cerise urged, her dark eyes full of concern and fear that he would be too late. The captain would soon take the escape pods off line too.
Cerise pulled the tall blond counsellor to his feet and dragged him along towards Cryo prep. Tristan followed blindly, unable, still, to focus properly. He was beginning to get a little more control though,
"Stop." He shouted suddenly, "I need my wrist band, where's my psych stone?"
"You can't take that with you, Tristan. Everything will be placed in storage for you until you reach safety, if the ship makes it." Tristan felt a spike of fear from her as she said this, which, ironically, because of her physical contact, and their emotional bond as close friends, helped him focus far better than any of his exercises could in such a situation.
He focused on Cerise, holding onto her and concentrating. His hands gripped her arms convulsively and she cried out in alarm as his fingers dug into her flesh,
~Cerise, I'm sorry, I need to focus, everyone's emotions are too much for me all at once I need to focus on just one person. Can I use you?~
Cerise gasped at the sensation of hearing her friend's voice inside her head, for although she knew he was a telepath he had never used his skills on her or any of the other members of the crew. In fact very few of the crew were privy to the knowledge that Tristan was a telepath. Cerise had always felt honoured to have been trusted with that information for Tristan had told her himself.
His kind were always regarded with suspicion and often fear and prejudice. Cerise had been curious to get to know him and dispel some of the prejudices she had been fed about telepaths as a child. They had become friends; more than friends on occasion; so she was willing to help him in anyway she could in order to get him to a cryo pod and to safety.
After only a few moments Cerise felt Tristan's grip relax on her arms and saw his face break into a relieved smile,
~Thank you, Cerise, ~ his voice echoed softly in her head,
~Y-you're welcome, ~ then she gasped as she realised she had answered him in the same way. His green eyes opened wide and his smile broadened,
"Wow, you're a natural, Cerise." He said out loud, surprised at her ability and willingness to answer him telepathically. She blushed, then remembered the urgency of the situation and pulled him up to his feet once more,
"Cryo pods, now." She commanded, dragging him by the front of his shirt. He resisted,
"My psych stone, Cerise. I can't leave without it." He pulled away from her but to her surprise did not run off towards his quarters; instead he stood and held out his hand. Closing his eyes in concentration the object he spoke of suddenly appeared in his fingers and Cerise watched, stunned as he strapped the intricately carved leather strap to his wrist. She had known he could do things like this but had never seen him do it. She had been curious but had never asked him to show her for want of making his abilities into a parlour show,
"This is the only thing that will stop me goin' mad if we land anywhere without telepathic dampeners." He explained with a quick wink. She blushed again and then regained her composure to continue pulling him in the direction of the Cryo pods.
The ship gave a heavy lurch and they were thrown against the wall. Cerise gave a cry as she caught her arm against some out cropping pipes. Tristan pulled her upright and touched the injured area gently,
"That'll heal in Cryo in no time." He assured her. Again he felt that spike of fear as she pushed him into the Cryo prep area of the med rooms. He turned to regard her with shock, partly because the link with her mind had not broken but mostly because he realised what that spike of fear meant, "You're not going into Cryo?" he asked and she shook her head, biting her lip,
"I'm classed as Command Crew, Tristan; I have to stay with the ship." She said,
"Cerise." Tristan breathed, and in that one word she felt all the pain and regret and loss and sadness that their separation would bring him; all the friendship and joy he had felt since they had become friends and sometimes lovers. Cerise felt tears burn her eyes as he pulled her to him and kissed her good bye: a soft, tender kiss to her lips. His green eyes met her dark brown ones and she knew then that she would never hear anyone else ever say her name the way he had just said it.
She held him tightly, her fingers threading through his hair as she whispered softly,
"Be safe for me Tristan." His arms tightened around her as his breath caught in his throat, "And wherever you end up, think of me, because I'll never forget you, never."
"Nor I you, Cerise." Tristan held her at arms length, knowing that this was a good bye with the finality of a death. The ship was crippled; the passengers evacuated. Wherever and whatever happened to them both there was one thing that was certain: they would probably never see each other again.
Cerise gave Tristan one more commanding push and he walked through to Cryo prep to be readied for the cryogenic sleep pod that would carry him away from the crippled ship and away from one of the only friends he had ever had.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Pern: 35th Turn, Ninth Pass
D'rell whistled softly as he set out breakfast on his small table that he used as a dining table, desk and general storage of things that didn't have a home in his weyr. He pushed aside some papers and gathered some others up to move to another surface that was equally as cluttered. He spent his time equally between his duties at the Weyr and Landing but never spent enough time at either place to be able to tidy up. The women in the lower caverns would come and clean for him but they never touched his things, especially his work. So every surface in his small living room was covered in papers, skins, reference sheets, and equipment. He knew where everything was, somewhat, but he had never been the tidiest of people.
He rubbed at his shoulders with a groan as he finished setting out breakfast. He had woken with a terrible crick in his neck having spent the night, as he had promised B'son, lying with Areth in her weyr, while Tristan had spent his first night on Pern sleeping in D'rell's bed. D'rell had wrapped himself up in blankets and had been warm, but it hadn't been the most comfortable of spots despite Areth's front legs providing a pillow.
Usually when they slept close to each other it was in one of the Southern weyrs that had a small mattress for him and a hollow for Areth; or it was in the soft warm sands of his secret swimming cove; he was not used to spending the night on the hard rock floor of the carved out cave that was their weyr at Benden.
He sighed as he thought of his cove. He and Areth were long overdue a visit there. D'sar, his former partner had discovered it and had laid a claim for them for after fall. He and D'rell had planned to live there when thread fall ended. The claim still belonged to D'rell according to common-law rules set out by the original colonists.
He visited it every once in a while to give him and Areth a break from the stresses of riding thread falls and the work he did at Landing. He didn't go as often as Areth would have liked though, since she loved swimming in the warm sheltered waters of the small cove and playing with the dolphins that always appeared when they were there. She loved basking in the warm sun too.
D'rell enjoyed the peace and quiet but the memories of who he could be sharing the wonderful scenery with could still be painful at times and he would come back to the weyr feeling more stressed than when he had left, more often than not. He often wished he had Areth's dragon mind that could so easily forget her bond with D'sar's brown dragon, Merth. He was sure she missed her weyr mate of six turns but she, like all dragons did not feel or remember the loss as keenly as her human rider did.
D'rell was roused from his thoughts by a chittering flash of green that landed on the table in front of him. Despite her delicate features, Roxi was being quite a klutz as she upset cups and stepped on plates,
"Roxi, you're a sharding menace." D'rell exclaimed. Roxi had returned from her errand to Landing the night before with a message for D'rell from his colleagues there. She had also brought a message from B'son too saying he had asked his errant little firelizard to keep an extra watch over their visitor.
Tristan had indeed been hungry the night before, as B'son had suggested and D'rell had sent for food. After they had eaten D'rell had helped Tristan into bed where he had fallen asleep almost immediately.
D'rell had received a visit from the Weyr Leaders and the Master Harper, soon after. He had told them his side of the story: discovering Tristan on the mountainside and the decision to bring him to the weyr. They had promised to come back the next day to meet the mysterious visitor when he was better rested.
Roxi continued to flit about the table and D'rell. He flapped his hands at her to get her out of his face,
"Why aren't you watching over our visitor, Roxi, you little pest?" he asked her. He realised too late that she was trying to tell him something,
"Your little spy ain't watchin' me because I'm awake now." D'rell turned to see Tristan standing at the curtained doorway to the bedroom.
His eyes bore an amused glint at D'rell's embarrassed denial that Roxi was in any way a spy. Tristan held out his arm to the tiny, miniature dragon and Roxi flew to him without hesitation. D'rell let out a low whistle,
"You're honoured." He exclaimed, "She does not usually trust so willingly." Tristan smiled, entranced by the beautiful little creature,
"She's exquisite." He said, his voice almost a whisper, "what's her name?"
D'rell regarded Tristan, his head cocked to one side. Considering Tristan's ability to communicate telepathically he was surprised he hadn't asked Roxi himself,
"Can't you ask her that yourself?" he asked frowning. Tristan shook his head,
"I tried, but she communicates in images and the image she uses for her name is unique to her. I can't interpret it." D'rell frowned again, trying to understand,
"Her name is Roxi, she's a firelizard." He explained. Tristan gave him a searching look and then smiled,
"Now I see it I understand it." He said cryptically,
"Do you mean you saw it in my head?" D'rell asked; a little shocked. Tristan's eyes widened,
"No." he said, adamantly, "I would never intrude like that," he seemed shocked that D'rell would even think he had, "I meant that I saw the image she thought of when you said her name." D'rell nodded understanding a little better,
"Roxi, you should go back to B'son now." He said softly to the green beauty, "He'll be wondering what's happening." Roxi lifted from Tristan's arm and flew over to D'rell's shoulder to nuzzle his neck before lifting again on her tiny gossamer wings and disappearing. Tristan gave a cry of surprise and regarded D'rell with wide eyes,
"She teleported?" he asked. D'rell nodded,
"We call it going between, but yes, the correct term is teleport." Tristan nodded in approval,
"Handy skill, teleportation." He mused. D'rell chuckled,
"You have no idea." He laughed, but Tristan gave him a look that quite clearly said he did. D'rell tried to interpret the look but couldn't.
His interplanetary guest looked tired, but much less pale than he had the night before. He also looked a little confused as he ran his fingers through his thick blond curls,
"I can't actually remember how I got into bed last night." He said, his green eyes clouding slightly,
"I helped you." D'rell explained, "You were still a little sore and stiff; and surprisingly very tired for someone who has been asleep for at least fifteen turns."
"Cryo is a very different kind of sleep, D'rell." Tristan explained, "It's not a natural state. There's no dreamin' or anything like that. I didn't feel like I'd been asleep that long. I felt like I'd been run over by a dumper truck."
"I'll take your word for it, since I have no idea what a dumper truck is." D'rell chuckled, "Did you sleep alright last night? How do you feel now?"
"Well," Tristan began as he moved closer to the small table and sitting with an audible groan, "Just about every muscle in my body aches. My head feels like it's sittin' in a metal box that someone's hittin' with a stick and my eyes have so much sand in them if I had a spade I could make a sandcastle; but apart from that, I feel fine." He finished with an impish grin that made D'rell chuckle,
"You know there's always the geo thermally heated pool at the other end of the corridor?" D'rell reminded him, pointing in the direction of the pool room, "B'son says it would be a good idea for you to take some hot baths. It would help to ease your stiff muscles."
"I saw the bathroom, jus' now 'cos I got a little lost." He smiled an embarrassed smile and ran his fingers through his hair again, "Considerin' my situation I think that's probably an understatement!" again D'rell chuckled,
"I would say you got more than a little lost Tristan." He said, "one point six quadrillion kilometres lost to be exact."
Tristan stared at him, his mouth open, "You pick that number out of the air?"
"No, that is roughly the distance from Earth to here. That's how I could work out how long it would take you to get here, presuming you were travelling at a constant speed, and there were no diversions for obstacles and no gravitational shifts that could have affected your trajectory and based on the information we have on how long it took our ancestors, the original colonists to get here."
Tristan continued to stare at him open mouthed. Astounded that the man could hold so much information in his head,
"You must have a real head for numbers to remember those equations." Tristan complimented, his tone was sad though,
"I've spent a lot of time studying that's all." D'rell told him, avoiding Tristan's sad gaze and feeling angry with himself. The man didn't really need to know how far he was from home and from any hope of rescue. D'rell mentally kicked himself for even opening his mouth. The man must be going out of his head thinking about his situation and what he had left behind. Suddenly he remembered that Tristan had somehow heard his thoughts the night before, when he had been thinking directly about him. He regarded the visitor carefully. He gave no indication of having heard what D'rell had thought this time though.
Instead Tristan was looking down at his clothes, which were some that D'rell had put out for him to wear, "I presume these were for me." He said gently fingering the soft, woven fabric of the belted tunic and comfortable trousers he was wearing,
D'rell gave him an approving look, nodding and smiling at how good he looked in the clothes. He had judged rightly that Tristan was roughly the same size as he was,
"Your own clothes were a little too obviously unPernish, Tristan." D'rell explained, "I thought you might feel more comfortable in some of mine." Tristan nodded in thanks,
"Anything to not have to walk around in that Cryo suit." He said gratefully, "But I gotta admit, these clothes are very fine. Something a little plainer would have been just as good." He fingered the detailed embroidery around the neckline of the tunic and the professionally carved leather belt.
D'rell regarded him with a quizzical look,
"They are ordinary clothes." He said, "I didn't think you'd want to be walking about in gather finery."
"In what?" Tristan asked in confusion at the unfamiliar term. D'rell chuckled,
"Gather finery. Your best clothes for a Gather, which is the closest you get to having any fun around here, although it isn't too bad most nights around the main hearth if you're looking for good company and singing." D'rell explained to him,
"Singing?" Tristan's face lit up with interest,
"We do a lot of that here." D'rell told him,
"But that ain't all that you do." D'rell shook his head, he realised that the questioning could go on indefinitely because Tristan knew nothing about Pern and its people and society. He indicated that Tristan should help himself to the food set out at the table,
"Eat, please." He said, "I realise that you must have a great many questions about everything, and I don't know if I'm really the one to answer them all. I'll do my best though, until the Weyr Leaders and Master Harper come."
"Master Harper?" Tristan asked, curious, as he took a good look at all the food available before reverently touching the soft, freshly baked and still warm loaf of bread that sat in the centre of the table,
"He is the person who is in charge of the Harper Craft Hall. All Craft Masters are important people, but the Master Harper is the best person to talk to about Pern's history and to answer any questions you have about Pern in general." Tristan reluctantly drew his eyes away from the bread and fresh fruit and looked at D'rell with intense green eyes,
"What exactly does a Harper do?" he asked,
"Harpers are our teachers. They're also keepers of archives and records and they gather and distribute information; first and foremost though they are musicians and teachers. That is how we are taught our lessons when we are young, through music and song. We have many other crafts too. Children are chosen for a craft depending on their abilities and skills and family affiliation. They become apprentices then journeyman then Masters if they're good enough."
"Do you have to be an apprentice to become a dragon rider?" Tristan asked. D'rell laughed,
"No, potential Dragonriders are Searched differently." D'rell explained although with every explanation he could see that Tristan had many more questions
Tristan still had not eaten anything yet though D'rell could see him eyeing the food hungrily,
"Eat; don't wait for me to finish what I'm saying." D'rell urged him, "I'll answer questions while you eat. Sometimes I talk too much." He confessed, "Due to a childhood where I hardly spoke at all. D'sar used to say I was making up for lost time." Tristan looked up sharply,
"D'sar?" he asked, surprisingly gently.
D'rell bit his lip. Why did he have to go and mention his partner of six turns? He would have to answer the question now and explain why D'sar wasn't there and how he had died. D'rell frowned, he didn't want to have to explain to this visitor why he was alone and why talking about D'sar caused him so much pain. To his embarrassment he felt tears burning in his eyes and he looked away,
"You don't have to tell me anything, D'rell." Tristan told him gently and something in his tone made D'rell feel calmer somehow, "Sometimes I'm too nosy for my own good. I'm sorry if my question caused you pain." D'rell could see by his expression that this strange man had sensed some of his pain, perhaps the same way that he had sensed Tristan's anxiety the night before,
"It's alright, you weren't to know." he assured Tristan, "I shouldn't have mentioned him." D'rell wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and looked back at Tristan, "D'sar was my partner. We lived here in this weyr for six turns, our dragons were weyr mates. D'sar and Merth died fighting Thread two turns ago."
"That's awful." Tristan said softly, hanging his head, "Thread?" D'rell realised then just what a mammoth task telling Tristan about Pern actually was and although he didn't mind answering any of the visitor's questions he also realised the man was not going to eat until he stopped talking,
"No more questions until you've eaten." He said firmly and Tristan smiled a half smile. D'rell took up the fresh loaf of bread and tore off a chunk, handing it to Tristan.
Tristan took the offered piece and sniffed it gently,
"Oh my." He sighed, "It's still warm."
"Of course it is, it was baked this morning." D'rell explained, as if this should be understood. He watched as Tristan placed a piece into his mouth and tasted it with another sigh, closing his eyes in undisguised ecstasy. D'rell chuckled, "You act as if you have never tasted fresh bread before." He laughed,
"Well I haven't." Tristan's retort surprised D'rell,
"What? Never?" he asked incredulous,
"Never." Tristan said with regret, "Where I come from you're lucky to get anything that isn't processed, replicated crap. It's nutritious but tasteless and definitely not home baked from scratch, even planet side the food was over processed and basic."
"You mean that there isn't any fresh food?" D'rell wondered, staring at the fruits that had most probably only been picked fresh the day before,
"There is fresh food for those that can afford it, and the processed stuff was fresh at some point before it got messed around with to make it go further. You must get paid a pretty penny as a Dragonrider to be able to afford all this." D'rell laughed again, this time ironically,
"I don't get paid anything, Tristan." He explained to his now open mouthed guest, "To be a Dragonrider is an honour. To be chosen is an honour and to share a bond with one of those amazing creatures is an honour and a pleasure. It is also a very great responsibility and extremely dangerous; this is understood throughout Pern. I don't get paid, but everything I need is provided for me. The Weyrs are run like this. The rest of Pern provides for us."
"And what exactly do you all provide in return?" Tristan asked, incredulous, "
"We protect Pern from Thread, Tristan." There was that word again,
"The word Thread seems to throw up an awful lot of emotions from you D'rell, all of 'em negative. What exactly is it?"
D'rell explained the nature of the organism that attacked his planet every two hundred turns or so. He explained the way that Dragons were developed genetically from firelizards and how they fought to burn Thread from the skies. He didn't need to explain how dangerous a task it was, Tristan had already worked that one out when he had heard about D'sar's death.
When D'rell had finished Tristan let out a long low whistle,
"That's one hell of a responsibility to take on, it's a wonder anyone wants to be a Dragonrider."
"Like I said it's an honour to be chosen."
"How are you chosen exactly?"
"We are searched," D'rell explained, "There are Dragons who are very good at seeking out the more receptive young ones amongst the Holds and Crafthalls. When there are eggs hardening on the hatching grounds those dragons go out with their riders and find likely candidates. B'son and Cerith are particularly good at finding candidates. It was Cerith that found me."
"B'son?" Tristan asked, frowning, "Is that the guy who was here last night?"
"Yes that's right." D'rell said as he took up a piece of fruit and began peeling it,
"Your healer?" Tristan asked and D'rell looked up sharply,
"B'son isn't my anything." D'rell told him, frowning back. There was no time to expand on his statement though as Areth announced they had visitors,
~Lioth comes, with N'ton and the Master Harper. She told him and he nodded in acceptance,
~Is there room for you and Lioth in the weyr? He asked his green dragon,
~There is room, but I will move, I do not wish to share with Lioth, he is not my mate.
~I understand love, where will you go? D'rell tried to hide the shock of sadness that he felt when Areth said this. He had been right about her missing Merth, and although she did not feel the loss as he did, she still felt it,
~I go to the fire heights, Jenth and Cerith are there. B'son wishes to know how your guest is.
~Tell him everything's fine. D'rell told her. He listened to hear her shuffling off the ledge and go,
~I am glad you are feeling better, Tristan. Areth directed this towards the visitor and D'rell regarded the taller man with wide eyes; amazed that Areth spoke directly to him; that he heard it too and that she would name him after knowing him only a day,
"We got visitors?" Tristan asked, for all as if hearing a dragon was an every day occurrence for the man. D'rell realised he had heard the entire exchange between him and Areth. He cocked his head on one side,
"Do you hear everything she says?" D'rell asked, for he knew that there were a few non riders who could hear dragons when they needed to but he had never met a non rider who could hear without the dragon actually directing their thoughts specifically to the person in question,
"I heard everything," Tristan explained, "What she said and what you said." D'rell's eyes widened even more. This was a new one on him. People heard dragons but they didn't hear other people. He shouldn't be so surprised though, because he had had an entire conversation with the man the night before just as he would speak to Areth.
There wasn't time for further discussion on the subject as they both heard the scrabbling of a much larger dragon landing on the ledge of D'rell and Areth's weyr.
D'rell walked through to greet the new arrivals asking Tristan to wait in the living room.
Tristan did as he was asked, in body anyway. His mind, he sent searching, curious as to whether he could indeed "hear" another dragon,
~Your voice is very strange. A distinctly male sounding voice sounded in Tristan's head and he gasped. The strength of the mind he encountered astounded him, since Areth's mind and voice had been so gentle and feminine. She was female, Lioth was most definitely male and strong and commanding,
~My name is Tristan.
~I know, Areth told me. She says you are from another world, a long way from here. You are very lost, Tristan. Areth says we should help you to feel not so lost here. I agree.
~Thank you, Lioth. W-would you mind if I came through to see you? Tristan asked and Lioth gave his consent.
Tristan stood and walked through the curtained archway that led to the large entrance cave.
D'rell and two other men, one tall and dark skinned another, slightly shorter, but still tall, with dark hair and very dark brown eyes,
~The shorter man is N'ton my rider. He is Weyrleader of Fort Weyr Lioth explained, ~The other is Sebell, Master Harper.
Tristan thanked Lioth for the information, but he did not really give the newcomers very much more than a cursory glance. He was staring instead at the enormous bronze dragon that practically filled one half of the cave. He approached the creature, wide eyed and in awe,
"Oh my God you're fucking huge." He exclaimed, forgetting the three men who were now watching him with a mixture of surprise, amusement and annoyance on their faces, "You must be twice the size of Areth."
~Areth is a green, and greens are usually much smaller. I am a bronze, a male, we are usually the biggest, apart from our golden queens of course.
Tristan listened to this and nodded, aware that he had been approached by the man that Lioth had said was his rider, N'ton. Tristan turned to regard the slightly taller man, who was giving him a very curious, searching look,
"Er, hi." Tristan said, a little abashed at his entrance and his exclamation,
"You are Tristan." N'ton said, "I see you're already acquainted with my dragon, Lioth."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, I just wanted to test out a theory." Tristan said, "I'm sorry if I overstepped any mark or anything." He stepped away from Lioth.
N'ton held out his hand in a traditional greeting, Tristan stared at it. Physical contact created a telepathic link. He knew that D'rell and B'son had been surprised to hear his thoughts in their heads the night before, when it had been necessary, but not afraid. He took N'ton's hand in his,
~It's nice to meet you N'ton, and Lioth. He addressed them both. N'ton's eyes widened and he looked sharply at D'rell who nodded and tapped the side of his head gently with his index finger. N'ton nodded,
"Interesting." N'ton said, curious, but to Tristan's relief not afraid or angry at the intrusion. He was after all used to talking to his dragon.
If N'ton thought him interesting, Tristan thought N'ton even more so. The touch of his mind was different from D'rell's. D'rell was unassuming, almost shy in his response to Tristan's thoughts but N'ton's mind was that of a leader: forceful and commanding and used to having his orders followed,
"Is it only in physical contact that you are able to speak to us that way, Tristan?" N'ton asked. A very intelligent and informed question; usually Tristan was the one having to explain the mechanics of telepathy. Here he realised that these people already knew a lot about it, this was a refreshing change but Tristan still found himself wanting to be cautious,
"I usually avoid physical contact if I can, N'ton." He said in his strange, alien sounding accent, "Physical contact not only allows us to communicate telepathically but it also forms an empathic link."
"Empathic?" Sebell stepped forward, interested in the word, and the sound of it and, Tristan sensed, fascinated by the sound of his voice, "You can sense other's emotions?" he asked, "I can't decide if that is a good thing or a bad thing." He said, smiling ironically, "I am Sebell, by the way, Master Harper. It's very nice to meet you, Tristan. I came last night but you were asleep." Tristan smiled, and not just at the man's word but at his hesitation to shake his hand. He was obviously giving Tristan the opportunity to initiate the contact. Tristan held out his hand and Sebell took it with gratitude and humility,
~Nice to meet you too, Sebell. Sebell gasped, taking several involuntary steps backwards.
Suddenly a golden blur of angry wings and screeches appeared between Tristan and Sebell.
The tiny golden firelizard was joined by another, a bronze, both of which flew angrily at Tristan who backed away in alarm. These creatures were firelizards, like Roxi, so they should be able to hear him as she had. They were far too angry to listen and it took a much more forceful mind to calm the two angry creatures.
Lioth gave a low, menacing rumble and both the gold and the bronze disappeared with a crack and a blast of icy air.
Their disappearance left a space between Tristan and Sebell. The Master Harper had recovered some of his shock. Tristan looked positively grey with anxiety,
"I-I'm sorry." He managed to stutter before disappearing through the curtained archway, back into the living room.
He ran through the living room and back into D'rell's bedroom. The only safe place he could think of to regain his composure. He sat on the bed and buried his face in his hands.
He'd known it was too good to be true. D'rell, B'son and N'ton were Dragonriders, used to telepathic contact. Sebell was not and Tristan had overstepped the mark by speaking to him in such a way. Sebell had reacted like most others that Tristan had ever encountered: with fear and shock. Those two firelizards had appeared to protect him. Tristan realised that, although he had landed himself on a planet that accepted telepathy more than any other place he had ever visited, his abilities were still going to be considered abnormal and strange.
He was going to have to be careful, very careful, because anywhere else, if people had made things difficult for him he had moved on. Here he did not have that option, at least not for the foreseeable future anyway. He was going to have to suppress his abilities as he did in every other situation he had been in. He would have to apologise to Sebell and to D'rell and N'ton.
He only hoped that this was not going to make it difficult to stay where he was because even after a day he felt safer in this strange cave dwelling with this interesting young man with the deep blue eyes and his beautiful, green Dragon,
You are safe here A voice startled him and he looked up,
Areth? He called,
Areth and D'rell. The two voices sounded as one in his head and suddenly he did feel safe.