Chapter 9 - First Fall
Winter, 36th Turn of the Present Pass
By the time B'lee and Margroth returned to training in the New Turn, they had started a new phase - passing firesacks. It was a tricky job, throwing sacks of firestone to riders in the middle of a Threadfall, and could be even more dangerous than fighting Thread itself. Most of the time, the weyrleader would identify a suitable replenishing point, and the weyrlings would take the sacks there, but sometimes there was no alternative but to take the sacks directly to the riders.
They practised, as they practised everything these days, to the point of exhaustion. A few of the riders who had picked up the technique easily were recruited for the next Fall. It was going to be a long one, angling down from Telgar through to eastern Tillek, and almost all of it would be in Fort's domain, so re-supply was absolutely vital. Several supply points had been designated close to but just north of the Fall, and the weyrlings would use those as bridging points.
D'min and S'gan were chosen for the job, among others, but B'lee, who had missed so many sevendays, was not. He would merely be flying firesacks to the replenishment point, rather than re-supplying the riders themselves. He wasn't pleased about it, but even he could see that D'min and S'gan were far better at weaving in and out of a group of dragons than he was.
I will get better, promised Margroth, and B'lee immediately felt guilty for making his dragon feel inadequate.
I didn't mean to upset you. I just don't like seeing my friends going into danger when I'm safe on some mountaintop.
They were assigned to resupply 2, 4 and 6 Wings, which would be fighting at the northern part of the leading edge, almost over Crom Hold, while another team took the south side. They assembled their sacks at a designated spot on a ridge a little way north of the Fall and waited for the dragons to come to them. The Fall was a heavy one, and a stiff gusty wind was making it difficult to catch. They started receiving calls to take sacks to the Wing in flight, and B'lee blessed F'neldril's endless drills as he watched D'min and S'gan appearing behind and above their designated dragons and tossed the firesack down to the rider.
It was difficult work, and B'lee felt his heart in his mouth as he watched the leading edge pass in front of him, dragons flaming and his classmates blinking in and out of the wings. It went on for hours, with little opportunity for rest. He wished that he could do more, but all he could do was haul firesacks from the Weyr to the replenishment point, and even that was exhausting after several hours.
The accident happened in the blink of an eye, as the trailing edge approached the coast and everyone started to think about relaxing at the end of the Fall. S'gan was concentrating on the brown in front of him, and forgot to look up. A stray Thread caught Lath across the leading edge of her left wing and she jumped between to kill it, reappearing in the same place a few seconds later - right into the middle of a large clump of Thread that had been sucked into the space she had left. Her screams - and those of S'gan - could be heard by the entire wing before she abruptly disappeared again. A few seconds later, a high-pitched keening sound from the queens' wing below told B'lee that S'gan hadn't been able to direct her jump, and had become lost between.
It was only the sheerest good fortune that half the weyrlings weren't injured then, as the emotional backlash from their dragons filled their minds and left them unable to concentrate. The queens exerted their rarely-used powers to force the young dragons to jump back to the Weyr, and they appeared, one after the other, in their usual class formation over the heights. All of them, weyrlings and dragons alike, were shaken and pale, and were glad when Leri ordered them to descend to the bowl.
B'lee thought back to the day of Margroth's injury nearly two months ago. He had some idea of the shock that S'gan must have felt when Lath screamed in pain, though of course it must have been far more severe. He could imagine how the pain could overwhelm a rider, how it could be possible to go between without thinking of a destination, and blinked back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.
F'neldril appeared a minute later, looking as pale as the weyrlings. He conferred with Leri and ordered the weyrlings to assemble in the Hatching Ground. It was a tight fit, with the dragons so large now, but they welcomed the closeness and the warmth of their fellows, even with the sulphurous stench of firestone that still clung to them.
Leri stood on a ledge in the north wall and addressed them. "Weyrlings, attend." Her voice carried easily through the cavern, and B'lee wondered how, before realising that her voice was being relayed through Holth and Margroth to his mind. "This is a tragedy, and it should serve to reinforce the lessons that the weyrlingmaster has been giving you. You must memorise the emergency drills until they become a part of you - until you can act on them without even thinking. If S'gan had thought to jump back to the weyr, he would still be with us - injured, perhaps, but alive. He panicked and jumped without visualising his destination, and so is lost between forever."
She paused and collected her thoughts. "Thread is fickle. It doesn't always move in the ways we expect. What happened to S'gan - when he jumped a beat forward only to find that thread had appeared there - that can happen to anyone. It is not common, but it has been known, as I am sure that the weyrlingmaster has told you. In such a case the pain and shock can be enough to prevent clear thinking. That is why we go through the drills, so that you can do them without thinking!
Her voice softened. "Tonight you will grieve, as all the Weyr will grieve. Tomorrow we will pick up our lives again, and the day after that we will fly Thread over Boll. We are dragonriders, and that is what we do."
F'neldril helped her down from the table, then stood on it himself. "I suggest that you go and clean yourselves up before the rest of the wings return. I expect to see all of you in the main hall for the evening meal, when S'gan will be remembered. After that ... well," he gave a bitter smile, "most of you will need some help getting to sleep, so I will authorise an issue of wine or ale after the meal. Classes will resume after the noonday meal as usual.
* * *
D'min couldn't face dinner. He had scrubbed Aurieth, bathed and then had somehow managed to acquire a full wineskin and dragged B'lee into his weyr. His face was reddened and slightly swollen still, and he didn't want to leave their little haven to go down to the main hall. B'lee, who was only slightly more composed, slipped into the kitchen and talked one of the cooks into letting him have some meatrolls and pastries.
"Here," he said, handing half over to D'min, who was lying on his bed. "You have to eat, even if it's not down there."
"Thanks," said D'min, reaching out for a roll. "I just couldn’t ... "
"I know." B'lee nodded sadly, and sat down on the bed, next to his friend. He leaned back against the rock wall and took a sip of the wine that D'min had poured out. "This is good."
"Hmm. It's not bad. I don't know where it's from, but it'll do."
"Do for what?"
"It'll do to get me very, very drunk."
"You'll feel ill tomorrow."
"At least I'll be alive. Oh, Billee," he cried, leaning forward to rest his head on B'lee's shoulder. "S'gan's gone. He's gone!"
B'lee put his arm around D'min's shoulder and tried to console him. "I know. But we're still here."
"Please stay with me. Please stay, Billee."
"I'll stay, Domin. I'm not going anywhere."
"I can't believe he's gone."
"Hush, now."
D'min nestled further into B'lee's arms and rubbed his cheek on the soft fabric of B'lee's shirt. His hands, which had gone around B'lee's waist, started to move of their own accord - just a small movement, hardly purposeful enough to call a caress, but B'lee felt it acutely. He couldn't say that he found it uncomfortable or unwelcome, though, not tonight. The slow rhythmical movement against his skin was soothing, and he relaxed into the embrace.
"I was so scared out there," he heard D'min whisper.
"So was I," he answered. "I think we all were."
"It wasn't what I'd expected. I thought it would be more ... orderly. Not so frantic. More like the practice sessions."
"F'neldril told us it would be different. Everyone told us it would be different."
"I know. It's just ... I didn’t expect it to come from all directions."
"Updraughts. Turbulence from the dragons' wings. That's what he told us."
D'min nodded against his chest. "Updraughts. I'll remember, next time." He shuddered. "I'm not sure I want to go out there again."
"Me neither. But we're dragonriders now. It's what we do."
"I don't want to die like that. I don't want to burn and scream and go between. "
B'lee felt his shoulder blades prickle. He didn't want to die like that either - and he definitely didn't want to think of D'min being scored, or dying. Losing S'gan was bad enough, but if he lost D'min as well, his life would fall apart. "Hush now," he said again. "We're here, we made it through our first fall." He let his own hands move a little, up and down D'min's back, telling himself that the boy needed some comfort, after all, and it felt good to hold a warm body close to his own. He reached for the wineskin and managed to fill D'min's goblet without spilling more than a few drops. "Here, drink some more."
D'min gave a bitter laugh. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Billee-boy?" He gulped down the wine and held out the goblet for more. "Because you know that's not necessary."
Billee felt a qualm of unease at the look in D'min's eyes. "I think you need a bit of sleep. Tomorrow will be better."
"Tomorrow ... tomorrow I could be dead."
"Don't think like that."
"Why not? It's true. Stay with me," he pleaded. "Just stay with me tonight. I don't want to sleep alone."
"I'll stay. You know I will."
"Can't promise to keep my hands off you."
"I think I can defend my honour," he said wryly. "But I don't want to sleep alone tonight either. Too many nightmares in waiting."
D'min set his empty goblet down and threw his arms around B'lee, hugging him tightly. "We'll keep them away together."
They drank the rest of the wineskin, leaning back against the sleeping furs, arms and legs entwined, reminiscing about S'gan and Lath. B'lee had known him for a Turn and a half; D'min since childhood. There were a few tears, and a few laughs, and a lot of warm silences. By the time the wine was finished B'lee lay with D'min's head resting on his chest, and those wonderful hands moving gently over his flanks. So far D'min had been perfectly well-behaved, and B'lee was nearly asleep when he heard D'min whisper, "Oh, Billee, just let me, please ..." and realised that his hands were meandering down B'lee's flanks to his hips and bottom.
B'lee heard himself murmur something, but he had no idea what it was. In fact, he was already half-hard and wasn't at all sure that he wanted D'min to stop. It was just a way of comforting each other, he told himself. They were both upset about S'gan's death and needed the comfort of each other's body to help them sleep. There was nothing more than that in it. It didn't mean they were going to be weyrmates. And he couldn't push D'min away, not tonight.
While B'lee had been trying to justify his inaction, D'min had undone several important buttons and was now sliding his hands right down into B'lee's trousers. B'lee gasped and squirmed as he realised that any second now - oh, now! - D'min was going to take a hold of his cock. It felt amazing - D'min's hands were skilled and strong, and it was all going to be too much for him. His hips bucked forward, and he protested when D'min took his hands away.
D'min quickly undid the buttons of his own trousers and pushed B'lee down on the furs, crawling on top of him and pressing down. There was something he didn't recognise in D'min's eyes - something dark and sad, and he shut his own so he didn't have to see it. He concentrated on the feel of D'min's lithe body against his, their cocks aligned and generating sparks that shivered right through him. He arched and climaxed almost before he knew it, giving two or three sharp thrusts. He opened his eyes in time to see D'min start to thrust frantically, followed by a moment of stillness, then a gasp and collapse. He dropped his head against B'lee's shoulder, panting, and shifted his weight slightly, but didn’t move otherwise. B'lee ran his fingers through the damp curls and over his shoulders. There was no response, and B'lee realised that he had fallen asleep.
Well, that postponed any opportunity to feel awkward about it until the morning. And since B'lee was exhausted himself, he wasted no time in following his friend into oblivion, not even giving a passing thought to the way that D'min fit so comfortably around him.
* * *
D'min must have awoken before B'lee, because when he opened his eyes he was alone in the bed, with the sleeping fur pulled over him to preserve his modesty. A query to Margroth solicited the information that Aurieth and D'min had already gone hunting. I am hungry, too, after all that flying yesterday, the blue added wistfully. And there's still plenty of time before we have to be at practice.
B'lee sent Margroth to the hunting grounds while he changed his clothing and headed for the bathing pool. He'd missed breakfast, but he wasn't very hungry, and he wanted to catch D'min. They had a lot to discuss.
Down at the lake, D'min hailed him with every indication of friendliness and none of self-consciousness. Aurieth came out of the water and D'min started to inspect her hide for any dry patches. B'lee gave him a hand with the oiling while Margroth was in the water, and then the two of them attended the blue. Once they had two happy dragons oiled and basking in the sun, B'lee started to feel a little awkward again.
"D'min," he started.
"Hmm?"
"About last night..."
"What about it?" D'min asked, his voice cool and his eyes fixed on the horizon.
"Well, I was wondering if it would change things."
"Of course it won't." D'min took a deep breath and turned to face him. "We're still friends, aren't we? It was just a bit of comfort, nothing more than that. We were upset and we drank a lot and played around a bit until we fell asleep. It doesn't mean anything more than that."
"Oh." B'lee bit his lip. "Well, I suppose that's all right, then."
"See? You didn't have to worry." D'min flashed him a brilliant smile and started to pick up the pots of salve.
B'lee watched him as he walked back to the shelter, and wondered why he felt so hollow. They were still friends, and nothing more than friends. Surely that was exactly what he had wanted?
* * *
When they got back to their weyrs after practice that afternoon, there was a strange blue dragon sitting on the ledge of S'gan's weyr, and they could see a drudge sweeping out some dust. B'lee realised at once that the lower caverns staff must have come up to clean the weyr out. It gave him a pang, but he realised that weyrfolk weren't as sentimental about things as Holdfolk were, and there would be a new class of weyrlings needing the space soon.
He couldn't stop himself from walking through to see for himself, though, and found Marta and a couple of drudges shaking out the bedding and sorting S'gan's possessions into several piles. The blue rider turned out to be Z'den, from the class ahead of them and now in 5 Wing, who was recovering from a winter ague and not fit to fly Threadfall yet. B'lee nodded to him, but his attention was claimed by Marta.
"Oh, B'lee, I'm glad you're here," she said with a sad smile. "Do you know if S'gan had any nominated kin for his belongings?"
"No. Well, not that he ever mentioned to me. D'min might know."
"I might know what?" asked D'min, following B'lee in.
"If S'gan had nominated kin?"
"I don't think so - his parents were both dead. He has a half-brother somewhere - I think he went to the Minecrafthall at Crom, but I could be wrong. They weren't close, though."
"Not to worry. There doesn't seem to be much of a personal nature anyway, and the rest will go into store."
B'lee looked around at the chamber, but apart from a few scraps of leather that S'gan had been working on, and the blanket that B'lee had knitted him, all the rest of the gear was general issue.
"Marta?" he began, hesitantly.
"Yes, dear?"
"The blanket there - I knitted that for S'gan. May I take it back?"
"Of course." She handed it to him with a smile. "You'll need it up here, I've no doubt."
"Aye, it can get a little chilly some nights." He took the blanket and folded it carefully. It was just a blanket of knitted squares, such as could be seen in any Hold or Croft in High Reaches, but S'gan had loved it and had proudly displayed it on top of his cot. Now he'd never be warm again, and B'lee felt grief overwhelming him again, and turned away quickly so that Marta wouldn't see the tears in his eyes.
"It's all right to cry, you know," D'min said, softly.
B'lee nodded. "I'll just put this away, then," he muttered, ignoring the slight crack in his voice, and left them to clean up the rooms while he placed the blanket carefully in his chest.
Both D'min and B'lee were quiet that night at dinner, but at least there was no further awkwardness between them. B'lee was thankful for that - he had a suspicion that worse times were ahead of them, and he wanted to make sure that they would be there to help each other.