marak

Marak looked across the vast expanse of desert before him. Home. For all his fifteen turns of traveling, the desert was the only place that called to him. Perhaps it was because he had been born in the desert, birthed when a sudden sandstorm trapped the Trading Clan that he had been born to, there. As if to emphasize this thought, and make it true, a gust of wind blew the sand all around Marak. Marak smiled, yes, this was definately home.
"Marak! You lazy boy, get over here and help unload the wagons! You'd better shape up if you expect to be head of this caravan someday." Marak's father, Umarion, called affectionately over to where his son was standing. Umarion was the second-in-command of SandRose Trading Caravan, and expected at least one of his many sons to rise to the position of Leader in the coming turns. Marak had eagerly accepted the position of would-be-leader and spent every moment he could inside the Clan, learning how.
Marak quickly manuevered his way through the noisy crowds to where his father and several other men where unloading the tents. The most important thing to a trading clan is their protection. Next to dragonriders, this heavy, steel barred tents are the very reason for Traders existance...Marak mentally recited words from his lessons.
As Marak teamed up with his cousin to unload some of the bulkier canvas, a small brown creature appeared from nowhere, and began to chitter excitedly at Marak from it's place in the air.
"Colla, I'd stay away if I were you." Marak warned his brown fire-lizard. Today wasn't the day for airborn antics, people were much too busy. The little fire-lizard squawked indignantly and disappeard between. A small, worried mental search revealed the brown pest to be by his favorite cove, where his 'favorite' flock of green fire-lizards resided. Marak smiled.

The day had been very busy for Marak, but finally everything was set up, food was cooked and eaten, animals were fed and put away, and people were slowly drifting to their tents to sleep. Marak was exhausted, but sleep was in his distant future. For whatever reason, his mind wasn't as tired as his body. As he lay in the tent he shared with his brother, staring up at the canvas and snuggling close to Colla, he began to think about life in general.
Where do people come from? How did they come to be? How did anything come to be? Did we just appear from between? And if we did, how? I wonder how long it took for fire-lizards and dragons to learn to throw flame. Hundred or Turns? Thousands? Or did they appear from between that way? Marak thought he had almost grasped a concept, something big, something that it felt like everybody should be wondering about.....But why didn't anyone else ever think about it? How could he be the only one who ever wondered about these things? Colla stirred restlessly in the crook of Marak's arm, and Marak sighed.
Stretching his back he sniffed deeply of the desert air. He hated being trapped inside the tent. He would be better off digging a hole in the sand. If he lined the bottom of his hole with rushes, and strung a piece of canvas over the top, he'd be warmer than he was in the tent. Too bad the wind would bury the hole with sand, and suffocate anyone in it. If only there was a way to avoid that....
Marak thumped his heel on the ground. He couldn't stand it anymore. Being trapped in the little tent always made him feel this way. He had to think about pointless things. Who really cared if there was a way to sleep in the sand? As long as there were tents people would much rather have those. But what if they could put the tents in the sand? And cover those up? Then all you'd have to worry about is a sudden sandstorm. Easily avoided if you had a watch going on during the night. If a storm blew up, then everyone could wake up and move the tents. But who'd wanna do that? Wouldn't it be grand to be able to float the tents up, the way the draogns flew? That way you'd never have to worry about getting buried. But how to float them up? How did dragons fly anyway? What made the wings able to carry them?
"Arrrgggghhh..." Marak growled, frustrated with himself. He had to get out. As quietly as he could he slipped on a warm, night robe and his shoes. He would go for a walk, and think about normal things. He nestled Colla back into the pillow, and piled a blanket around the tiny body. Colla meeped and rustled, but then resumed his funny snoring sound. Marak loved the fact that his was the only fire-lizard that snored. Marak watched the little brown contentidly for a moment, before his brain began to plague him with questions about how fire-lizards and dragons got to be the colors that they did. Marak quickly left the tent after that.

As Marak walked through the small sand dunes, he concentrated on not thinking about anything. Then he forced himself to think about leading the caravan. It's what he really wanted to do. He was already a good Trader, and would be even better when he was an "official" one, instead of the son-of-a-one he was now. Marak's feet sifted through the deep sand as he climbed one of the dunes, his robes flowing behind him, catching sand and dragging it along. Marak thought he must look fairly romantic doing this, and decided he looked romantic anyway.
He had a a sensitive face, very drawn out in good-looking features. His body was tall and lean, not overly muscular but strong none the less. He had long, dirty blonde hair that he usually tied back, but refused to cut. But indulging in his looks was something Marak didn't allow himself to do. Girls didn't really like him, he didn't have the dynamic personality Trader girls usually went for. Marak tried not to let his dissappointment show as he thought about that. It still bothered him that he'd never really been in love. His hopelessly romantic soul fit his body and his mind.
So, if and when I become Leader of this caravan, will women find me more attractive then? Perhaps it's the scar on my cheek that makes them dislike me. Marak unconsciously reached his hand up to feel the almost invisible scar on his left cheek. The tiny pinkish discoloration ran for about an inch down the middle of his cheek. He didn't remember getting it, but his father told him it came from Thread. Marak had been three, and out in Thread.
Thread. No there was something it did good for Marak to think about. How to get rid of it. If only he were a dragonrider, he'd have the resources to look into that one. And once Thread was gone, he and his dragon could return to the Trading clan. How much easier it would be for a Trading clan if they had dragons! If there was no Thread, dragonriders would have to make a living somehow. Why couldn't he come back to the clan?
Because there'll never be an end to Thread, that's why. Marak thought. No, Thread is a constant. Only during intervals can dragonriders even waste time helping a little, and even then not much, because they have to keep training for the next pass. Marak thought nostalgically of the one time he'd seen dragonriders in the sky. He couldn't remember exactly when it had been, but he remembered seeing huge creatures, flaming and diving and making their challenges to Thread from the air. Marak assumed that memory occured when he got his scar. Marak rubbed the scar fondly. If I hadn't stayed in Thread, and gotten this scar, I'd never have seen those dragons.
Imagine what it would be like to ride one. Every boy's dream. A dream Marak hadn't given up completely. Who ever did? Even some of the old men in the clan still looked with longing when dragons were spoken of or, better yet, seen. Marak thought if he Impressed a dragon, he'd definately come back to the clan and let the children see it, or rather-him.. Marak knew he couldn't Impress a green, his, um, tendancies didn't go that way.
A sudden feeling of claws and pressure on his shoulder caused Marak to jump and nearly scream. Whirling around he nearly dislodged little Colla, who had come to find his bonded. Hand on his chest, Marak scolded his little brown.
"Stupid flit." Marak said affectionately. "You should have let me know you were coming. There now, just bring up your back leg and you'll be fine. Like that." Marak stroked the tiny head and continued with his walk. He was not doing good at acheiving his purpose of not thinking. What he really needed was something to keep him so busy, so deep in action, that he wouldn't have time to think. Something like a dragon.
Oh stop it wherrybrain. Dreams of dragons are for little kids and those that live in a Weyr. Marak told himself, and looked around to realize he had walked farther from the camp than intended.
Oh really? A voice said from nowhere. Marak jumped and tried to spot who had said that. No one. Great, now he was hearing things. Perhaps it was someone playing in the dunes? I'd hardly think so. No, look up here youngling! Marak heard the voice, and obeyed. Staring up into the sky he saw a huge blue form swooping down on him. A dragon! Marak could hardly breathe.
He watched in awe as the huge beast spiraled downward and landed on the sand near him. Even as the rider dismounted Marak couldn't take his eyes off of the lovely creature. Never in his life had he been so excited, so expectant, and so uneasy as he was right now. Colla was doing remarkably well under the circumstances. The easily excited fire-lizard had adapted a non-chalant attitude and was relaxing on Marak's shoulder.
"Hello there lad, I'm Zaere, and he's Amenth." The woman, Zaere, pointed to the large blue dragon, making himself comfortable by sitting in the sands. Marak peeled his eyes from the dragon and faced the woman.
"Good evening dragonrider. May I help you with something? We've food at camp, and a few herdbeasts your dragon may appropriate if he is hungry." Marak spoke with an authorative reverence for the bluerider, and pushed away questions that dealt with why a woman would be riding a blue.
"I can see questions in your eyes youngling. I've got plenty of time to answer them. I'm here on Search."
"In the middle of the night?" Marak couldn't help himself, and was relieved to see Zaere smile.
"Unusual, yes I know. But Amenth insisted that we leave, now. It's not night yet at Beach Shards, so I assumed he was going somewhere where it was still light. I was surprised to find myself in complete darkness, hovering over the desert."
"You didn't show him a picture before he went? I thought that if a dragonrider didn't do that, the dragon would get lost between." Marak didn't check this question. He needed to know. Zaere laughed at him.
"I see you have a curious mind. No. If the dragon knows where he's going, if he's been there before and can get a picture from your mind, he doesn't need you to form the picture of the place and hold it there."
"I see." Marka murmured, wondering how it came to be that he was discussing dragons with a dragonrider. Is everything planned before it happens? Marak suddenly wondered. And if so, who planned it? And if so, can we change it? Or is there no such thing as free will, because everything, every word out of my mouth has already been planned. Oh do stop it Marak, you're driving yourself insane!
Marak looked back to the woman, Zaere, and suddenly wondered why her dragon had wanted to come out here in the middle of the night.
"Dragonlady, may I ask who why your dragon came here on Search, when he knew it was the middle of the night? Wouldn't it have made more sense for him to wait until morning?" Zaere looked puzzled for a moment, and Marak realized she was conversing with Amenth. Perversly irritated that the dragon was no longer speaking to him, Marak sighed loudly. Colla chirped lazily from his perch on Marak's shoulder, and leaned forward to peer intently at the blue dragon.
"Well younglin....What's your name?"
"Me?" Marak was surprised. "I'm called Marak." Bluerider Zaere nodded began speaking, slightly hurried.
"Well Marak, apperantly Amenth felt that this person he was Searching would be less willing to go if we asked him in the day. I know it sounds weird, but it's what Amenth believes."
"Why would someone be more likely to join you during the day then at night? I would think people would be more willing to join you at the daytime; so the could get out of the day's work and heat." Marak thought of all the slovenly folk in his clan, and smiled at the thought of any one of them becoming dragonriders. Zaere had obviously had some experience with trader folk like that too, because she was also smiling.
"You'd think so, wouldn't you? No Marak, Amenth insisted that the object of his Search would only go at night. And what's more, the object of his Search is apperantly you!"
Life spun around him for an instant that stretched into a thousand Turns for Marak. Him? Searched? What about becoming a proper Trader? What about the desert, his one true home? But as the cold night air slipped more tightly around him, and his foot sat sinking into the colorless sand, he thought he wouldn't miss it so much. But to never have the sun shine on his back the way it did before..... Marak understood Amenth then, and Amenth was right, nothing could have convinced Marak to go if the sun had been up and shining brightly. A desert full of light was irresistable to Marak, and Amenth knew it.
That's a sneaky thing to do Amenth. Marak whispered mentally to the dragon, hoping for an answer. He didn't get one, but the dragon crooned quietly and rustled his wings. Marak smiled and stroked Colla's head. Colla crooned along with the large blue dragon, and Marak smiled wider.
"I suppose it couldn't hurt to be a Candidate. Afterall, if I don't Impress, I can always come back. No one will begrudge me for wanting to be at the Weyr for awhile. When can we leave?"