aeschahunt

Aderynth�s huge wings smacked against the air as she hit a sudden downdraft, and the proud dark teal dragon hissed in surprise. Aescha clung resolutely to the fighting straps, glad that dragon-tack did not include stirrups. Her twisted foot was aching with the cold even within leather boots and two pairs of thick socks.
<<Did I mention,>> Aderynth muttered, <<that I really hate this place? You hate it too, I can feel it. Why are we here?>>
Mountains swam underfoot, and the wind stole Aescha�s words when she tried to speak. Ducking her head against the cold, she replied mentally, <<It�s part good deed, part opportunism. I�m checking for Candidate material, as anyone we get out of Lady Aschiane�s grip is better off. And a candidate is a nice gift to give when you�re hoping to join a Weyr.>>
Aderynth rolled her eyes, but said nothing until they overflew the edges of Windwhip Hold�s territory. Then, abruptly, she swerved in midair, wheeling on a wingtip. <<Who is /that/?>>
Aescha peered at the man staggering below, swathed in a heavy poncho. <<I don�t know, but he�s not walking too well. Let�s go have a look.>>
<<These are Dicytra Weyrs� lands,>> Aderynth warned as she dove. <<They might get prickly about my wings and coloration.>>
<<Dicytran riders can deal,>> Aescha replied flatly. The long-winged green backwinged to the earth, long neck snaking as she stared at the man. He now stood stock-still, head bowed beneath its hood.
The ex-drudge slid the short distance between Aderynth�s neck and the ground, wincing as she put weight on her crippled foot. �Are you all right, sir?� she asked, limping toward him. When he raised his head, she stifled a cry.
A heavy bandage, its edges thick with caked-on blood, was wound around his head, covering his eyes. The rest of his face was covered with long, swollen welts, a thin line of blood across each one. He smiled back at her, his full mouth twisting a little in pain. �As well as I can be, thank you, m�lady. Did I hear a dragon?� His voice was a rich, full tenor, musical even with his breath rasping in his throat.
�Yes,� Aescha replied, faintly. �My Aderynth. Can I take you anywhere, sir? A Healer?�
�Away?� the man suggested, wryly. �I�d appreciate being dropped off somewhere a bit warmer. Healer Iachau�s already bandaged me up, but I fear that I may be having a worse reaction than he anticipated.�
�Right this way�what�s your name, sir? I�m Aescha.�
He gave her a shallow bow. �Harper Master Cantrell, at your service.� Belatedly, Aescha realized that some of the bulk on his back was harp-shaped.
The Harper�s questing hand found Aderynth�s shoulder. �A dainty lady, I see,� Cantrell commented, surprised. Wordlessly, Aescha assisted him into the hollow between Aderynth�s ridges, settling herself awkwardly behind him.
The long-winged green sprang skyward, propelling herself in the air before she blinked -=Between=- to her rider�s chosen destination: Ryslen Weyr.