Chapter Thirteen
Caution: This chapter has some scenes that some may find violent
It was almost noon when Mirrim felt the first stirrings. She was working in the infirmary grinding herbs to powder when an incredible heat pulsed through her chest. Taking a few deep breaths, she turned to Goren and said, "I'll be right back."
"Yeah sure," he replied absently. "I'll be down for lunch shortly."
Mirrim stepped out to the landing and looked to her high weyr. Path was an emerald glow with eyes of fire appraising the animals in the stocks. She hastened towards the stockyard. B'mezal stepped beside her. "You must control her, don't let her eat." She pushed him away without looking. He came back up beside her, an oddly pleased look on his face. S'bald was on her other side looking worried. Already a crowd of blue and brown riders were leaving their lunches and trailing the trio as all walked to the stockyards. The dragons lined the bowl. B'mezal was startled by the numbers.
Mirrim felt the sudden power of her green swoop down on a runner. She could feel the animal's beating heart as Path stepped on its neck. "Blood it" she commanded. Path howled her defiance. B'mezal stepped up beside her but she shoved him back again. "BLOOD IT!"
Again she could see herself. In a cloud of red stood a puny human on a rise before the hated cave, she felt the puny human snarl with her. A sudden hot desire to taste the blood enveloped them both. Path clamped onto the dying runner's neck and sucked. She wanted more but when she brought down a wherry she bit into the belly. "Blood it, only taste the blood," the command came as she wanted to refuse even as she heard herself command it. With ferocity she clamped onto the wherry's neck and sucked. Blood dripped from her snout as she turned to see three blues, wings extended, behind her, anticipating. With a mighty heft she flung the wherry's body at them and they scattered. Abruptly, Path sprang aloft, a green blur against the cloudless sky. The other dragons hesitated only for a fraction before giving chase.
The first male to reach her, a brown, swung his long neck around hers but Path pushed against him with her hind legs and spun on a tangent which blasted her through the group of dragons still intent on flying straight up. A few were able to anticipate the little green's maneuvers and changed direction. Two blues regained her, beginning to close around her from above and below. Again, she twirled hitting both with her tail as she shot straight up, leveled then dropped straight through a knot of blue and brown dragons.
On the ground S'bald had pulled Mirrim backward into the cavern reserved for mating flights. He grabbed the tapes of her skirt and yanked down knowing she wouldn't want it ruined and wondering how he would get the bodice off when he quickly stepped aside. Her foot connected with the belly of burly brown rider who had stepped too close to them. He stumbled backwards.
"Ha HA!" bellowed B'mezal, "Our littlest green is a brawler." None of the riders, intent on the drama high over their heads, paid any heed. S'bald had pulled the lacing off the close-fitting vest and a blue rider had grabbed hold of it close to the nape of Mirrim's neck. His reward was her elbow to his solar plexus and his link to his blue was lost. He gasped for breath flat out on his back, staring stupidly at the leather garment he held.
"Give me that," demanded S'bald as he pulled it from the confused man's hands.
"Get out of the pit now, S'bald." B'mezal drawled from his seat. "They're about to get mean on Mirrim. Path isn't gonna take just any dragon."
"Were they like this to me?" S'bald asked, alarm coloring his words. Neither man had taken his eyes off the swarm of men trying to get near enough to the weaving woman at the center of them, her shirt being ripped to ribbons. S'bald backed up clutching the skirt and bodice until he was next to the Weyrlingmaster.
"Each mating flight's different," the old rider said speculatively. Another rider had grabbed Mirrim's shoulder and she body checked him into three others.
Path wasn't tiring. She was euphoric. The browns and bigger blues were dropping out, too many changes in direction and speeds to match her agility. Three blues were persistent and she was toying with them finding none worthy.
Back in the mating cavern, B'mezal nudged S'bald. "Alright, pull the curtain on that quartet." S'bald complied. "The rest of you men, your dance is over. Leave!"
Several men were milling about, a bit dazed and more than a few sporting scratches and bruises. As they reassembled themselves a few low conversations, punctuated with expletives and mirth, began. They complied with the Weyrlingmaster and walked out to the gathered crowd. A few exchanged marks as they returned to the lower caverns for their interrupted lunches.
High above the Benden Mountains, Path was contemplating to whom she would condescend to submit. Three blues were closing in on her; she couldn't keep them off her back for much longer. As two of them reached for her shoulder pinions she twisted once more. She heard herself think "We are not submitting. Take the one in front of you and be done!" With a reserve of barely contained fury she folded her wings tight to her back and grabbed the forelegs of a blue dragon rising up to her from beneath. The blue was unprepared and the two plunged in a flat spin toward Pern. Path held tightly with fore and aft legs but the gravitational pressure against her wings was too much. "Level out," she commanded. The blue's wings fanned laterally giving her the ability to pull her wings out and assist in slowing their descent. He twined his neck and tail with her as they joined.
Behind the curtain, Mirrim's shriek was feral and triumphant while as yet a nameless blue rider howled. Eventually two dazed riders appeared from behind the curtain. Each sported a swollen eye.
"Ha HA," B'mezal crowed, slapping his leg. "That's my girl."
###
T'gellan had his wing aloft south of the Bitran Hold when Monarth informed him that Path was blooding her kills. He told his dragon to release the wing. Every blue and brown popped out. F'lessen waved to him as he glided back to Benden on Golanth. The greens formed a small wing then popped out. They were heading probably to a beach or one of the islands. T'gellan had never contemplated where riders took their greens when one of their own took her first mating flight. He would have to ask Mirrim. Then he remembered. It had been several days since she had left their weyr.
When he had returned that night he half hoped she had stayed but all her belongings, save the smashed fire lizard bauble, were gone. When he pushed through the shards of glass he found one brown piece. He picked it up, placing it in his palm, letting it sparkle in the glow light. It was Tolly with the exception of one wing and a foot. He placed it carefully in an old soft hide inside his press then went for a soak.
The next few days he had spent down at Cove Hold. Exciting discoveries were being made and while he was invited to stay, too many of Mirrim's classmates and friends made it clear that she was not welcomed. He wanted to speak with Brekke who was still tending to Master Robinton, However, he returned to Benden without enlightening any of them. He resumed his duties as others of higher rank indulged their curiosity at the site of their ancestors.
Now he tried to think of where to go as he was adverse to Benden or its environs. He pictured the Dragon Stones below Half-Circle Sea Hold and asked Monarth to take them between.
###
B'mezal and S'bald sat in companionable silence on the stone bench across from the curtained off area. G'lenan walked in with a basket and wineskin strung over one arm.
"Ah, lunch!" B'mezal sighed, seizing the wineskin and downing a hefty swig. G'lenan pulled out mugs, a few meat rolls and slices of cheese. The men tucked in. "I thank yeh, men. This was the toughest observation I've watched in turns."
G'lenan looked to S'bald, "How badly did they hurt her?"
B'mezal guffawed. "Mirrim gave as much as she got. But one of you will have to run for the healer before they wake."
"Weyrlingmaster, may I go in and put a cover on them? Mirrim will want one when she wakes." G'lenan held up a woven blanket. The old man nodded.
G'lenan approached the curtain then slipped behind it. In the dim light he found them close to the far wall. The hairy leg of the blue rider, bald where a slice of thread had burned him, was rolled possessively over Mirrim's white body. He could see an angry red welt on her upper calf. Her back was dotted with scratches and bruises in the shape of finger marks. He had received the same markings on his back when his green flew her first mating flight but far fewer than she. Stepping forward he glimpsed her face, blanched and stepped back. He fluffed the blanket a few times before lifting it over them. It settled lightly; neither woke. He took two robes off the wall hooks and placed them behind Mirrim.
As G'lenan returned, his face a bit pale, he walked past the other two mentioning that he'd fetch the healer now.
Goren was still perched like a vulture over his faded hide trying to decipher the text when G'lenan touched him lightly on the sleeve. "Mirrim what took you, Oh," Goren said when he looked at the slight young man. "What do you want?"
"You're needed at the mating cave." G'lenan replied.
"Yes, yes of course. Let me get my satchel. Would you run to the lower caverns and tell Mirrim she needs to return to the infirmary now?"
G'lenan gawked at the healer, "Mirrim's Path has flown; she's the one at the mating cave."
Goren returned the same incredulous look at the young green rider, "Right. Had to be a good reason for taking so long at lunch."
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Mirrim's perception returned slowly. She was bone tired but amazingly serene. In the diffused light she could tell she lay beside another. The gentle touch of Path in her mind reminded her that she was joined with a green dragon who loved her more than she loved herself. They exchanged tender thoughts as Path opened her eyes. She also lay beside another. She knew blue Fidith from the long thin thread scar across his flank and down his lower leg. She could feel the large flat rock they set upon and the bright afternoon sun.
As she tried to remember Fidith's rider's name she shrugged into his side and sighed. A sharp pain met her chest. It hurt to bring her hand up to examine it. "G'nag? G'ret! Ooohhh." A rough hand stroked her hair.
"Mirrim girl, it's G'net," the gravelly voice near her ear said. He groaned as he tried to reposition himself.
"Fidith and Path are sunning themselves,"
"On a big flat rock near an alpine lake high the Bendens," he finished for her. "At least my blue got to choose their landing."
Mirrim pulled herself up slowly and turned so she could face G'net. She leaned against his hairy chest, worn out from the exertion. When she looked up she exclaimed, "Your eye! Did I do that?"
A few chuckles from behind the curtain reached their ears. G'net lifted a meaty hand to his left eye and gingerly touched the swollen flesh then lightly touched her cheek and mouth. "Yeah, sorry about your lip."
Surprised, she touched her mouth to find it puffy. He grinned showing a chipped front tooth. "My Stars! Did I break your tooth too?"
This time there was raucous laugher from without as G'net retorted, "Nah girl, you don't get to take credit for that!"
"C'mon you two; it's time to rise." B'mezal called out.
G'net chuckled weakly as he pulled himself into a sitting position. He spied the robes beside Mirrim and grabbed one for himself. Once he was standing he slid into it then looked down where the green rider was curled in her blanket. He kneeled beside her, "C'mon Mirrim, first sit then stand." She let him pull her up and rest the robe around her shoulders. Once the two were standing he put a heavy knuckle under her chin brining her face up. "You acquitted yourself well, girl. You and Path gave me and my Fidith the tumble of our lives. Shards, this flight will be talked about for turns! I don't mind telling you, you are my first woman and now I understand what the bronzes get excited about." He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her awkwardly. "Fidith would have never thought to jump on the front of a green but I must admit it was, ehm, was, it was stimulating and …exhilarating, it was ..."
"G'net," wearily Mirrim cut in, "Please, Shut Up."
###
Goren insisted on examining G'net first. His injuries were superficial and after some numbweed G'net was sent away.
Goren opened Mirrim's robe and sucked through his teeth. The old Weylringmaster shook his head. "Are her rib's broke?" he asked.
The healer was busy dousing his hands in redroot before smearing numbweed over the angry bruises. "Most likely cracked; she wouldn't be able to stand if they were broken. Turn around, Mirrim. Let me examine you from the back." Both men gasped again at the scratches and bruising not just the customary ones on her shoulders and neck but crossing her lower back and buttocks. There were even bruises and scratch marks on her legs.
"One blue rider inflicted this much damage?" Goren turned to the Weyrlingmaster. It wasn't the first time he had administered after a mating flight but Mirrim's body seemed terribly abused.
"I imagine that every available blue and brown in Benden took part in Path's flight. I'd count that around 115 blues and roughly 40 browns." B'mezal replied. "I suppose I should have imposed lots."
"Appalling. This won't bode well for more women green riders. I don't like the looks of that knot on her leg there," continued Goren. "Or that bite mark." when he looked at her neck. "It broke through skin."
"Shards," replied B'mezal. "That means Path is bitten on the neck too."
"She says she doesn't mind it too much," Mirrim spoke.
"You best call her home; she shouldn't go between until she's seen to.
Mirrim lost focus then replied, "She comes; she told Fidith to follow. Can I have a soak now?"
Goren looked aghast, "How many turns have you practiced healing? No you cannot. Hold still until I finish binding your ribs. Then I am taking you to the infirmary for the night."
"Not 'til after the feast," called S'bald.
G'lenan and S'bald had been hovering at the entrance and chose that moment to re-enter. G'lenan carried a garment while S'bald held a few items including shoes. They approached tentatively toward the three. S'bald shook out a lacy petticoat. "You're not putting that on me!" Mirrim growled, sounding more like herself.
"Why sure we are," G'lenan replied as he held the gown to himself and swayed daintily with it. "You are to be properly feted tonight, Green Rider."
"Lady Green Rider," S'bald added proudly, "Your hatchmates bought you a gather gown for tonight."
"I will wear my regular clothes," she rebutted.
"Unless you want to enter the dining hall wearing tatters and shreds, this is your garb." S'bald replied dumping the undergarment over her head.
Mirrim who was weary of standing naked and battered in front of the four men allowed it. Then G'lenan approached with the gown which shimmered silver green through the bodice and sleeves. The skirt was dark green velvet that came short of the ruffles at the bottom of the petticoat. The two green riders fussed with the garment, unsure how it was supposed to fit. Goren was annoyed that the neckline was too low to cover the scratches and bruises and didn't hide the bite mark.
"I don't condone this at all, B'mezal. She should be taken to the infirmary not a party." Goren was becoming angry. "Mirrim, you will sit as much as possible and you will stay the night in the infirmary. Your ribs are only wrapped and that bite could worsen."
"Hope the Weyrleaders don't see that, "said B'mezal.
"Haven't you heard? They're in Southern, staying at Cove Hold along with most of the bronzes." G'lenan replied.
The men grinned. "This'll be a festival indeed." B'mezal said rubbing his hands together. I think I will join in the fun."
The four riders entered the lower caverns amid cheers. B'mezal had tucked Mirrim's arm in his, after carrying her across the bowl, He escorted her to a raised table where G'net, F'tamad and B'nard stood. Each sported a black eye. They bowed deeply before her. B'mezal nudged her and she reluctantly curtsied. Somebody put a cup in her hand and as one all the blue, brown and green dragonmen raised their mugs. G'net shouted out, "To our little sister, Mirrim, and her mean little green, Path! Salute!"
"SALUTE!" The riders replied and a cacophony of dragon roars could be heard from without. Mirrim drained her cup. G'net refilled it and she raised it while looking directly at him.
"To your worthy blue Fidith, G'net, and to you. Salute." Mirrim replied, drank and sank into the chair G'net proffered. The rest of the assembly echoed the toast then sat too as the women of the lower caverns brought in the meal. Sanra was seated next to B'tarth across from her. G'lenan sat on her other side. She smiled tentatively when Mirrim looked at her.
"Your gown is stunning," she said flatteringly but her eyes looked troubled. "It's a good cut of fabric on you too."
"Thank you, Sanra. My brothers gave it to me for this celebration." Mirrim felt herself blush.
G'lenan chimed in, "I picked out the color and fabric."
"What?! We're here to fete the best mating flight of the pass, not silly women's fashions," interjected G'net. He grasped Mirrim's hand. "Brothers, I tell you. Our turns of speculations are at a conclusion. She dominated me! My Fidith was taken; we had to submit." The other riders at the table chuckled. G'net brought Mirrim's fist to his mouth and kissed it then pantomimed that she punched him.
"I can blacken that other eye for you," she retorted loudly then leaned into his neck so that her lips were close to his ear. "Please, don't make me cry in front of our brothers." She softened her request with a quick kiss on his neck then withdrew.
G'net still held her hand, with a gentle squeeze he smiled kindly upon her and nodded.
She tried to convey as much gratitude as she could in her responding smile which was decidedly lopsided and nodded too. He released her hand.
"Pass those roles down here," G'net demanded.
Throughout the evening riders had approached Mirrim grinning broadly while showing her their strike bruises or congratulating her and G'net, Path and Fidith. Sanra leaned forward during a lull in the feast. "Mirrim, come with me to the kitchens. The women have a gift for you as well."
Mirrim nodded, "I should visit the Necessary and I might need you to hold up this blasted dress." Both women and G'lenan stood to hold her up through the back hall to the sleeping cubes. Mirrim left them momentarily to relieve herself. Both G'lenan and Sanra clucked in displeasure when she returned to the hallway. Sanra kneeled and pulled the petticoat down under the gown then fluffed the skirt to rest above the frills. "Oh, what lovely slippers! They gave you slippers too."
G'lenan fussed about the collar and sleeves. "We should have thought of a dress with a higher collar." He said, eyeing the scratches, bruises and bite.
Manora appeared from behind a curtained cube. "Quickly, bring her in here." and the two pushed Mirrim through. "Well there's nothing to do for your face," she took Mirrim's chin in her hand, examining the bruising which bloomed from her lower lip, across her cheek and down her neck. We'll hide what we can with a scarf. If only you hadn't bobbed your hair."
A few women came into her view. Willa was first, holding several scarves. She gathered in Mirrim's face and neck stopping her gaze at the plunging neckline where the binding for her ribs peaked out. She burst into tears and turned away. Felena and G'lenan both hugged her and moved her away from the green rider. "It's OK, mother, she really is fine. They just look bad." G'lenan patted Willa's back. Felena, large tears tracing from her expressive eyes held Mirrim's gaze until she lowered her head into Willa's neck and sobbed. Manora pulled her around, deftly grabbing a few of the scarves. Draping one after another over her neck, Manora's eyes began to seep too.
"All of you realize that I have to return, and soon." Mirrim interrupted. Manora wiped her eyes with one of the scarves, handed it to a woman behind her and settled on a silvery scarf that at least draped over her shoulders and far enough up her neck to hide the bite.
"I hope the Weryleaders stay south tonight. Thank the first shell that F'nor and Brekke are busy at Cove Hold." Manora said briskly, once more in control of herself. She gestured to hug Mirrim but stopped herself with a shrug. "We're proud of you."
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The feasting lasted past first watch when Mirrim turned to G'net and said, "They're not going to leave until we do. The women want to clean up and get some sleep before morning." Although many of the couples had departed, some riders were drunkenly singing and others with their heads on the tables. G'net rose, extending his hand which Mirrim took, rising rather gracefully for so much wine and flouncy dress. They nodded good-night to the revelers and a few trailed out with them to the darkened bowl. B'nard and F'tamad regarded them as they walked past. While both blue riders raised their mugs only F'tamad smiled. B'nard grimaced, unable to hide his frustration. He felt that he and Mowalth had been cheated.
"Come to my weyr tonight?" G'net turned to Mirrim curiously.
"She's to spend the night in the infirmary," an imperious voice came from the dark. Goren appeared, looking haggard and angry.
She laid a hand on G'net's arm smiling and shaking her head. Path approached with Fidith close to her flank. Turning to Goren she replied, "Get some sleep tonight, Goren. I will report to you in the morning." With that she crawled onto her green and they leapt into the dark. S'bald and G'net regarded each other briefly then both mounted to Fidith's back. Other dragons were landing. Goren could feel them through the soles of his boots. He wearily strode back up the ramp and into his tiny dominion in this blasted Weyr. He passed by the concoction of fellis juice and boneset he had prepared and fell into the first cot, dead asleep.
Mirrim and Path landed on the lip of their small weyr. She had balled up the scarf and flung it on the floor. The dress lay where it fell from her shoulders once she figured out the clasps at her waist. The petticoat was the next pile in the trail to her room. From the press she took a light shift. Gratefully she slipped it over her head feeling its familiar folds slide over her hips and to her calves. For a moment she thought to tear off the binding but remembered her training. She dragged the rush-bag and fur from her bed back to Path's couch.
Path was seated. Her head up, slowly bluish green eyes swirled. Mirrim looked at the bandaging on her green's neck. Touching the wound on her own, Mirrim thought, "Who do you think bit us, love?"
"He was not worthy." Her dragon replied, a trace of red shot through the facets of her jeweled eyes.
Mirrim lay down on the rush bag where she had placed it and covered herself in the fur. Path reached out with a strong forepaw and pulled her rider closer to her then curled her neck above her riders head, sighed and drifted to sleep. Three fire lizards alighted and nestled next to their mistress and were soon asleep too.
Mirrim was awake still. Now that the unpleasant event was over she felt her aches all over her body as she tried to relax. It ached from the cuts scabbing over on her back and neck. It ached from the deep bruising on her chest and legs. It ached deep inside her where she had only welcomed T'gellan's touch before.
The vision of G'net's surprised face close to hers when she had jumped on him, impaling herself kept surfacing. It had been intensely gratifying. He had fallen back clutching her to him then she felt the fall from the sky, the urgency, the rush of desire and fury that came from the dragons. When Fidith unfolded his wings and Path matched him at her command the incredible harmony of four minds overwhelmed her and she shifted in her bed only to feel the stab at her side and the sensation was gone. What had been said about a green's mating flight was true. It was exhilarating and indescribably delicious. How could S'bald have described it as merely "wonderful'?" Mirrim, as a mere woman had shared in what only queen riders had experienced in known memory. Brekke had missed it; would never know it. Finally sleep overtook her.
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T'gellan had observed enough from his vantage by the night hearth. The few bronze riders had retreated from the main dining area knowing that this auspicious occasion belonged to the brown, blue and green riders. The first woman green rider in remembered history had partaken in a ritual so closed that few but dragonmen knew it. By all accounts the flight had been wildly successful. By the sounds in the main cavern and from the bowl, the rank and files of Benden fighters were satisfied. He shifted so that he could no longer see the raised table. Mirrim's three fire lizards were perched above the hearth, dozing. He had fed them earlier in the evening when he returned to Benden with his news of Southern.
T'gellan had stayed by the night hearth most of the evening. He had been aware of every move Mirrim had made and was both dismayed and relieved when she finally left with G'net. He had seen the somber faces of the women after they had finally gotten her away from the riders. Willa never returned to their table and Felena had begged off spending the night with S'kel, going to bed early. He was shaking the last drops out of a wineskin when B'mezal flung a new one on the table. "May I join you Wingleaders?"
S'kel roused himself. "Sit, sit, Weyarlingmasster. I'll ssshare another cup or two with you then I am off to my weyr. It shounds, ahem, ssounds like the fete is winding down."
T'gellan cracked a smile, "Perhaps, S'kel, you should crawl to your weyr now and not indulge in another cup."
With mock dignity, S'kel stood, bowed and began ambling towards the bowl. "Perhapsss,T'gellan, I ssshall." He bumped into tables and a few drudges who were cleaning up as he exited.
"Still listing to the left, I see." B'mezal mused as he filled both cups.
"That's why I put his wing to my right. Gets the thread." T'gellan chuckled.
Both men were quiet with their thoughts until B'mezal raised his cup in a toast, "To Path's first mating flight."
T'gellan returned the toast "And her rider, good health."
Both drained their cups and T'gellan refilled them. "Speak freely Weyringmaster. You have something to say."
B'mezal regarded him soberly for all the wine he had consumed. "I have never observed a more violent mating flight nor so many dragons go after one green. I have to marvel at the girl for joining her brothers tonight. She should have been taken to the infirmary and dosed heavily with fellis."
"Goren assured me that he'd make her stay tonight in the infirmary," T'gellan replied.
B'mezal nodded. He felt that he had intruded enough and that her lover would take over her care. The old Weyrlingmaster rose and stumbled to his dragon leaving the bronze rider with half a wineskin and heavy conscience. T'gellan slowly walked to his weyr. Monarth slept fitfully. He grabbed his fur and curled up, still in his clothes, next to his dragon that immediately calmed.
He would talk to her tomorrow. She'd return to his weyr. He'd give her a child. Monarth would fly Path next time. But guilt took over his plans and for the first time since childhood, he cried himself to sleep.
Alrighty; three years ago when the first four chapters were published, there was disappointment that the story didn't continue. There are nine new chapters and not a peep from any of ya. What gives?