A small, defiant face, framed by a riotous mop of black curls, stared stubbornly up at the tall bronzerider. "No! I won't go!" She stamped her foot, sending a cloud of dust up from her tattered boot.
J'dar grabbed the girl by the shoulders, his handsome face twisted in a mask of rage, green eyes flashing. He shook her hard, his lips set in a white line. The girl's head flopped back and forth, but she stubbornly refused to cry or make a sound. With an infuriated bellow, he flung her against the wall. "I refuse to deal with you any more. You are not my child." And with that snarled declaration, he stormed out the door.
With a whimper, Kylar sank to the floor, her right arm clutched to her side. Only after her father was gone beyond a doubt of his returning did she allow herself the luxury of tears. Once the floodgates were opened, sobs wracked her small body as she curled in a ball on the floor.
Kylora knew the instant J'dar strode into her still-room that Kylar had defied him yet again. With a worried look on her face, she crossed the room to meet him. "What is it this time, Dar?"
"That daughter of yours," he snarled, "has defied me for the last time."
Ky's eyes widened in shock. "Dar, what have you done?" she asked in a hushed voice.
"Taught her a lesson. You're too soft on her, Ky. She needs to learn her place."
Kylora's eyes flashed with anger. "Her place is in our hearts, as our daughter! You never loved her!" She stormed out of the still, and her feet pounded on the steps to J'dar's weyr.
"Kylar?" she called softly, her eyes questing about for her daughter. When she saw the crumpled form near the wall, she cried out with dismay, throwing herself down beside her daughter. She gathered her carefully into her arms. "Oh, Kylar, baby, are you all right?" She stroked the black locks, rocking Kylar back and forth. "By the first egg, I swear I'll kill that man if he's hurt you. Oh, baby!"
"Mamma?" Kylar raised her head, blinking up at her mother. At her mother's relieved smile, tears began to form again in her blue eyes. "Don't let him send me away, Mamma!"
Ky gently rocked her daughter, whispering soothing words. "No, baby, he's not going to send you away. And I'm not going to let him hurt you ever again."
Kylar awoke the next morning to shouts. She tumbled out of bed and padded to the curtain, cautiously peeking out from behind it.
Kylora and J'dar were nose to nose. The bronzerider's face was flushed an angry red, almost matching the highlights in his brown hair. Ky's blue eyes were flashing hotly. "I refuse to stand by and watch as you beat our daughter!" she said vehemently.
"I told you, woman, that brat is no get of mine! I refuse to continue to support that lazy bastard of yours who won't work for her keep!"
"She's only seven! How can you treat her like the lowliest drudge? She's your daughter!"
"No," J'dar said coldly. "And neither are you my mate. You, too, should learn your place, woman." Raising a fist, he soundly backhanded her across the face.
"Da, stop!" Kylar cried, bolting from her room. She reached desperately for J'dar's arm, trying to haul him away from her mother.
J'dar glared at her annoyedly, shaking her off his arm as easily as flicking away a bug. He turned to glare at Ky. "Get out," he said, rage lacing his voice like poison. "Get out of my weyr. And take that thing,"he waved at Kylar, "with you."
Kylar looked somberly up at her parents, her eyes wide. "I'll get my things," she said, standing.
"Leave them," her mother snapped. She glared icily at J'dar. "We wouldn't want to waste any more of your father's," she said, slurring the word, "precious marks." She took Kylar by the hand and marched boldy from the weyr.
Stopping momentarily to pack some essential supplies from the still, Ky marched straight to the stables. By nightfall, Fort Weyr was only a memory.
Chapter 1
Kylar sat with her chin on her fist, the sun warm on her back, as she gazed at her mother. It never failed to amaze her how similar they were. Both had long, curling tresses of jet black hair. Both had shining blue eyes, though Kylar's were a shade or two lighter than her mother's, almost an ice blue. Both of them were tall. Kylar, just into her sixteenth turn, already stood taller at 5'7" than most of the boy brats her age. Both of them had slim fingers that were well-skilled with sutures. And that was another thing they had in common. Kylar smiled as her eyes traced the intricate knot-work of her mother's master healer knot. She fingered her own, the much simpler knot of an apprentice, and thought fondly on the years spent at her mother's side, tending sick and injured dragons.
A triumphant bugle distracted her, and she glanced up to see the watch-rider wave a welcome to the approaching brownrider. The dragon was loaded with supplies, and also carried an extra passenger. Kylar leaped up with excitement, her previously forgotten studies abandoned for the more exciting task of assisting the rider. As the brown swooped closer, Kylar recognized him as Kelieth. With an excited whoop, she raced toward the center of the bowl.
"T'ron!" she shouted as she neared the dragon. Terron had been on of her few friends at Fort, and when he had impressed just over two turns past, it had surprised just about everyone except Kylar.
The brownrider smiled down at her, then turned his attention to handing down his passenger. Kylar's eyes widened when she glanced at his knot. "Craftmaster Caliem! What brings you here?"
Caliem smiled at the girl. "Kylar, yes? I've heard great things about you from your mother. You've her look about you." Kylar blushed, then blinked and stepped back as T'ron slid down from Kelieth's neck. "I'm here," the Masterhealer continued, "because your mother asked for me to come. She's our best dragonhealer, so it pays to listen when she calls. T'ron here was at the Hall collecting supplies and was pleasant enough to convey me."
Kylar nodded, then turned as she heard her mother approaching behind her. Ky greeted Master Caliem with a nod of respect. "You flatter me, Caliem. You must be getting old. What ever happened to the stern and cranky Master I remember from my days as an apprentice?"
Caliem chuckled. "Ah, but my dear Kylora, you are no longer an apprentice. The young hot-heads at the Hall still think I'm cranky." He winked at young Kylar. "You, I'll let in on my secret. You're hardly my typical apprentice," he said cryptically. Then, with a smile, he linked arms with Ky and walked off with her, chatting amiably.
Kylar turned her attention back to T'ron, assisting him in unloading Kelieth. "You've grown, Ron," she said, eyeing his bronzed muscles with an appreciative smile. "What have you and this big brown beast been up to this past turn?" She grinned and offered Kelieth an affectionate scritch along his neckridges. "I haven't seen you since you graduated."
T'ron set the last of the packages on the sandy floor of the bowl. "We've been busy, that's for sure. Mostly ferrying supplies, but lately we've been commandeered for passenger transport, as well. You meet some interesting people that way." He peered dubiously up at the sun, shivering slightly. "Is it always this cold here?"
Kylar's mouth fell open in shock. "Cold? This is warm! Wait 'till winter hits, then it'll be cold. You're just used to the warm tropics of Fort," she chided.
"Yeah, well, you just wait 'till I'm transfered down to the real tropics at Southern and you're still stuck..." He broke off, a troubled look on his face. Just then, Kylar noticed an agitation out on the ledges and 'heights. T'ron looked back at Kylar as Coranth, one of the junior queens, rose into the air with a scream of bloodlust. "Kylar, dearest," he gritted out, holding himself in check, but just barely, "you'd better lock yourself up, or you're going to have at least one rider taking you here in the sun."
Kylar glanced toward the feeding grounds, then turned back to T'ron with a gentle smile. Taking his hand, she led him into the caverns, to privacy. Behind them, Kelieth leapt into the air to join the flight.
Kylar woke slowly, a bit confused for a moment, until she identified the musky dragon scent and the weight on her shoulder as T'ron. She must have stirred, because T'ron himself woke and raised his head. He looked at her in puzzlement for a moment, then his face fell as guilt clouded his eyes.
"Oh, Kylar," he murmured, gently touching her face. "Why didn't you tell me?" His eyes searched hers, sadness making them sparkle with moisture. "Dragonlust is no way..." He waved a hand, looking stricken.
Kylar took his hand, gently holding it to her chest. "Don't, shh," she soothed. "Even non-riders are affected by dragonlust. I am weyrbred, you know. I wanted you as much as you wanted me. There is no shame in what we've done."
Her words did not seem to calm T'ron. "But, for your first!"
Kylar smiled slyly at T'ron, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him to her. "I don't mind. But if it bothers you so much, feel free to rectify the situation," she said, her voice husky with her new-found desire.
T'ron blinked at her, then bespoke his dragon. ^She's so young, I don't want to hurt her. Shards, Kel,^ he exclaimed in exasperation, ^you'd think she was a greenrider!^
Kelieth's amusement colored his mind. ^Perhaps she is,^ was his cryptic remark.
T'ron didn't have time to ponder that comment, however, as Kylar pulled him down for a kiss and he was suddenly occupied with 'rectifying the situation.'
The next day, the blueriders and a handfull of greens and browns began to Search in earnest. Kylar watched them rise and disappear *between* with a wistful sigh. Her time with T'ron had been cut short. Shortly after they had completed the 'rectification,' Kelieth had gently reminded his rider that they were overdue at Fort. Kylar got the impression that the brown dragon had politely waited until they were finished and languishing in the aftermath to intrude, but she still wished T'ron had not had to leave so hastily.
Ky gave her daughter a searching look when Kylar came trudging back into their cavern, head down. Ky had seen the way her daughter had looked at T'ron when he left, and it hadn't escaped her notice that the two of them had been suspiciously absent durint the mating flight, and for a long time after.
"Cheer up, my dear. I've a surprise for you."
Kylar looked up, startled. Her face didn't exactly light up, but at least the gloom in her eyes lifted. "What is it, mum?"
Ky winked slyly. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now, would it? Go wash up for breakfast, and then you'll see."
Anticipation lifting the rest of her glum mood, Kylar dashed to the washroom. She ate her breakfast as quickly as possible, then followed her mother to the Weyr's healing cavern.
As they stepped inside, Kylar looked around in puzzlement to see Master Caliem and the Weyr's entire compliment of healers assembled. Master Caliem smiled when he saw the two women, so alike, enter. Ky took a seat with the other healers, leaving Kylar to stand confused at the end of the table, opposite the Craftmaster. There was no other seat available.
"Ah, Kylar," said Caliem. He cleared his throat and stood, putting on his sternest face. "You have, despite never attending classes at the Hall, managed to learn much as an apprentice under your mother and the other healers here at the Weyr. However, your training is far from complete."
Kylar's face fell as Caliem paused, for she had thought she was far beyond the apprentices confined to book-learning at the Hall. She opened her mouth to protest, but Caliem went on.
"Based on the reports I have received, and what I have seen of your work, I'm afraid I have only one choice." The mischevious twinkle in his eyes belied the graveness of his voice. "Healer Apprentice Kylar, of Telgar Weyr, it is hereby declaired that, on this day, you should be promoted to the honorable rank of Journeyman."
Kylar's jaw dropped in surprise and she stood numb with shock. Then one of the healers near her gave her a sharp poke. "Get on up there, girl, and get your knot. You deserve it." So prodded, Kylar climbed onto the table and slowly made her way toward the Craftmaster. As she passed her mother, she noticed Ky beamed with pride.
Kylar hopped nimbly down when she reached the end of the table and stood facing the Craftmaster. Caliem gently unpinned her apprentice knot and reverently pinned the new Journeyrank knot to her shoulder. "Congratulations, dear," he said kindly, then gave her a quick hug. "You will, of course, have to be posted..." He paused, waiting for her reaction.
Kylar took a moment to contemplate this. "Well, as much as I'll miss Mother, I can't stay here all my life." She smiled. "Where did you have in mind?"
Caliem looked thoughtful. "They could use you at Fort Weyr," he said, watching her reaction carefully.
Kylar's eyes brightened. "Fort?! That's where..." Her face fell suddenly as she remembered who else was at Fort. She sighed and straightened her shoulders. "I would be honored to be posted to such a prestigious place, sir."
Calaiem nodded and placed a hand on Kylar's shoulder. "That's a girl." Then her turned her to face the assembled healers. The whole group broke out in cheers, but Kylar couldn't help but notice the troubled look on her mother's face.
Kylar lay awake, staring at the ceiling. While she was not looking forward to facing her father, she most definitely was looking forward to being with T'ron. That alone made the transfer worthwhile. And Caliem had told her he expected to see her at the Hall on occasion, for classes her mother had not been able to give. Hopefully, between T'ron and her Craft, she could manage to avoid her father all together, unless his dragon got injured or sick.
Kylar was on her way across the bowl the next day, intent on her list for packing, when she was suddenly brought up short by something large and fleshy. Two large blue feet were planted in front of her, and she looked up, startled, into the face of Cobalth. She stepped back hastily and spotted M'lon, Cobalth's rider, grinning idiotically at her. "Don't bother packing," he said with a chuckle. "And you'd better tell that Craftmaster of yours you won't be going to Fort any time soon. Cobalth has decreed you are to stand at the Hatching."
Kylar fainted dead away.
Coranth had lain a fine clutch of 17 eggs. The candidates now numbered an even 30, and anticipation was high. Bets were being taken and odds favored a hatching within the next day or two. Caliem had grudgingly agreed that Kylar must remain at Telgar for the hatching. She was to report to Fort as soon as she was able--even if that meant waiting a turn for her dragon to mature, if she Impressed. Kylar had mixed feelings about Impressing. She wanted to be with T'ron now, and if she Impressed, it would be another turn before she could transfer. But to have a dragon! That would make her life perfect. She could really hone her skills, with a dragon of her own to care for.
Slowly, Kylar became aware of a deep thrumming reverbation. With a shout of excitment and surprise, Kylar quickly stripped and threw on her candidate's robe. She met up with other candidates as she ran for the Sands.
Excitement and anticipation hung like a tangible fog over the grounds. Coranth was gently nudging her eggs as if encouraging them. 16 of her eggs were in motion, some wobbling slightly, some rolling frantically. Only one was still. Coranth seemed to concentrate on this one, nudging it and crooning encouraginly.
Then, suddenly, three eggs split open simultaneously. A bronze, a blue, and a tiny green tumbled out, each crying hungrily. The other eggs followed suit shortly, depositing a variety of slimy, hungry dragonets. Kylar was lost in the confusion, frozen in place save for her head, and that turned wildly as she looked from one dragonet to another.
Then, above the pandemonium, an increadibly sharp keening rose to wail the plight of a dragonet. Kylar found her momentum as she searched for the source of the distress. A small green, deep aqua in color, was trapped under a fragment of shell. Everyone had been so confused by the other 15 dragonets waddling around that no one had noticed her. Kylar immediately threw the shell off the green and craddled her head in her lap. The green turned eyes whirling a hungry red, but tinged with purple, up to her.
Suddenly, Kylar's head was filled with another presence, and she felt a love and a joy so intense it made her eyes tear.
^K-lar,^ the deep timbred alto voice said, seeming to have trouble with the 'y' in her name, ^I am Ameth. I am yours.^ She paused as Kylar seemed paralyzed with shock and nudged the girl with her nose. ^And I am hungry.^
Kylar chuckled and hugged the green, then stood and helped her to her feet. "Of course you are, love, and I've got lots of food for you. Just come with me."
Kylar shoveled chunk after chunk of meat into Ameth's greedy maw, but kept half an eye on the proceedings on the Sands. One by one, each dragonet Impressed, but still the lone egg did not hatch. Kylar heard later that they had cracked it open after they were sure there were no signs of life. The dragonet inside had been immature and mal-formed and obviously would never have survived. The saddest part of the tale was that the tiny thing had been a gold.
That turn passed quickly enough as Kylar found herself immersed in raising a dragon and learning how to be a 'rider. Kylar especially loved it when she and Ameth began to fly together. One day, about a turn after the hatching, Kylar and Ameth practiced with the other weyrlings in the sky above Telgar's bowl. Kylar laughed at something Ameth said as they glided to a landing. The weyrlingmaster nodded his approval at their flawless landing and instructed her to join the other weyrlings in the barracks. He himself followed her in.
"All right, everyone," said M'klon. "I'm pleased to announce that the whole sorry lot of you have passed inspection and are officially graduated. You should be receiving postings or positions shortly. Thank you for a rather interesting turn." With a nod and a smile, he dismissed them all, shaking hands with each on their way out.
"Kylar," he said, halting her on her way out. "I hear you're to be posted to Fort. I was told to send you there directly. They're expecting you. Do you think you and Ameth can manage?"
Kylar nodded enthusiastically. She'd been waiting months for this day. "We'll be just fine, sir. We've been *between* there before, if you recall."
M'klon nodded with a chuckle. "That you have. They've a weyr wating for you. Git you gone!" he said as he sent her out with a swat at her rear.
Kylar could barely contain her excitement as she packed. She sobered abruptly, however, as she said her goodbyes with her mother.
"Don't let your father bully you," Ky said, concern darkening her eyes.
Kylar shook her head, her curls bouncing around her face. She had cut her hair to accomodate her helmet but couldn't see keeping it in the scalp-cut most riders affected. "Don't worry, mum. I'm a big girl now. And I've got Ameth to protect me."
Ky raised a dubious brow but felt better none-the-less for the reassuring presence of the now-grown green dragon. "Just be careful, will you?"
Kylar nodded, then hugged her mother fiercely. "I'm gonna miss you."
"Me, too, angel," Ky replied with tears in her eyes.
Ameth burst from *between* over Fort with a dazzling bugle that was instantly answered by Kelieth. The watch-rider waved to the pair and Ameth glided to yet another perfect landing. T'ron was waiting for them and Kylar launched herself off Ameth and into his arms. T'ron swung her around in an enthusiastic embrace. Kylar laughed, hugging him, until she spotted J'dar over his shoulder.
T'ron felt Kylar tense and followed her gaze. Ameth rumbled deep in her throat and put her head protectively over Kylar's shoulder.
"Well, girl," J'dar belched out, "I see you've returned. How a lazy slug like you ever managed to get a dragon, I'll never know."
"How a drunken sot like him ever Impressed, I'll never know," T'ron muttered under his breath, and Kylar noticed the reek of alcohol that permeated her father's clothes.
"Please, Father," Kylar said, the sweetness in her voice forced. "I am here to do my duty to Weyr, Hall, and Hold. Please just let me do my job. I'll stay out of your way."
"I'm not your father!" J'dar shouted, his face turning red. "Your mother was a slut!" He glared at Kylar for a moment, then turned on his heel and stalked off.
Kylar sagged into T'ron's embrace. "Why?" she sighed. "Why can't he just leave me be?"
T'ron hugged Kylar, dropping a light kiss on the head that reached almost as high as his. "He's a bitter drunk, Kylar dearest. Even the Weyrleaders ponder the usefulness of keeping him here. But he is a bronzerider, and, believe it or not, actually performs his duties loyally."
Kylar sighed and shook her head, then turned her attention back to T'ron. "M'klon said there was a weyr waiting for me. Care to show me the way? I should get settled in and report to ehe Weyrleaders as soon as possible."
T'ron nodded as Kelieth settled beside him. He hopped up on the brown's back and watched as Kylar swung up on Ameth. "Follow me," he said, and Kelieth launched into the air.
They landed on a rather wide ledge, easily accomodating both dragons. Kylar looked with surprise at the wide mouth. "Is this mine? I don't deserve such a spacious weyr!" T'ron just chuckled and led her inside.
Kylar began to get suspicious when she spied two dragon-sized couches in the outer chamber. Her suspicions were confirmed as they entered the inner chamber, already furnished, if sparsely, and complete with a large, wide bed. She whirled on T'ron, eyes flashing an accusation, and T'ron had the sense to look guilty. He pulled her to him, looking her in the eyes. "I hope you don't mind. I didn't want you even a weyr away from me, now that you're finally here."
Kylar scowled ferociously for a moment, then broke into a wide grin. "Rascal," she growled, then proceeded to kiss T'ron soundly. T'ron helped her unload Ameth, then ushered her to the Weyrleaders' office.
Kylar was greeted warmly, welcomed back, and given her duties. She was assigned to the search and rescue wing, then told in no uncertain terms to report any problems she might have with her father. "I don't want your performance to suffer beause of his--inebriety." Kylar nodded solemnly and was dismissed with a smile and a repeat of the welcome.
Chapter 2
Over the next turn, Kylar managed to avoid a major confrontation with her father. She found T'ron to be a very happy counter to her father's sour mood, and was ever glad to have him as her weyrmate.
When Ameth rose for the first time, and every time thereafter, Kelieth inevitably caught her. The two dragons seemed to dote on each other as much as their lifemates, and were often seen curled tightly around each other.
They were curled just so when Kylar and T'ron came bounding across the bowl toward them. "Ameth, love, wake up! We've got the day off, and the 'Reaches Festival is on! T'ron's entered us in the Spindles Race!"
Ameth raised her head and blinked at her rider, straps over one shoulder and a pack with her gather dress on the other. ^Which we will win, of course!^ Ameth rumbled with pride.
The weather was considerably cooler at High Reaches, but it was summer, so Kylar didn't mind. She breathed deeply of the crisp mountain air and smiled giddily at T'ron. It was still early, but the place bustled with activity. Kylar checked in with the race coordinator, and was informed that she was just in time to join the other racers in a preliminary flight through their course. With a quick hug and an admonishion not to spend all his marks before she got back, Kylar left T'ron and joined the others already in the sky.
The course was simple enough, in Ameth's eyes, anyway. Kylar had her doubts, but she was confident in her dragon's abilities. She was up against five other dragons: two blues, two greens - one tiny, one rather large, and one foolhardy, overconfident brown.
When the flag dropped, all six dragons surged forward. The smaller of the blues captured the lead immediately, with Ameth a close second. The brown followed third, and the remaining three jockeyed around at the tail of the group.
Kylar's mind was focused on guiding her dragon, her eyes intent on the blue in front of her. ^Wingtip in, bank, around the first spindle. Now glide, gain speed, aim for the second...^ Her mental monologue continued with single-minded purpose, Ameth merely making adjustments to her flight and allowing her rider to drone on.
Then, as they were nearing the fourth spindle, the larger blue was suddenly in front of them, coming up from beneath. Ameth backwinged furiously to avoid plowing into him, losing speed and altitued. Kylar cursed vehemently as one of the greens took advantage of this and soared past them.
Now in fourth place, and with only three spindles to go, Kylar gritted her teeth, growling deep in her throat, and dug her heels into Ameth's neck. ^Let's get 'em, love. Time for some of that fancy flying you're always bragging about.^
Ameth stretched her wings, gaining altitude as quickly as possible. Then, arrowing her body and pulling in her wings, she changed her angle and dove slightly, rocketing past first the green and then the tiny blue who had dropped back to second. ^Here comes the spindle, love. Watch your wingtips!^ Kylar warned as Ameth spread her wings to slingshot around the spindle. Ameth twitched her inner wing minutely, skimming the edge of the rock. ^That was too close. You're going to have a heck of a scrape on that wing, love.^
^I am fine,^ Ameth rumbled, speeding on to the next spindle. ^We must win!^ Kylar chuckled slightly, but her attention was on the blue a mere dragonslength in front of her. His rider was reckless, trying styunts that were likely to injure his dragon. Amazingly, he seemed to be pulling them off. Then the sixth spindle was there, and the two dragons were arcing around it. The blue ahead of her tried the maneouver she and Ameth had just used, but cut it even closer. Kylar watched in horror as the blue tore his wing on the rocky spire and tumbled toward the ground, trying vainly to fly with only one good wing.
Abandoning the race in favor of her healer training, Kylar ordered Ameth to dive after them. ^See if you can get under them, love. Slow their fall.^ Ameth angled her flight, and leveled off just to the side and underneath of the falling dragon. The blue was brave, valiantly trying to glide to a landing, but his torn wing was causing him to spin helplessly. ^Have him tuck his good wing, so he stabilizes, then get your wing under his bad one and have him extend the good one again. Hopefully, we can get them down in one piece.^
Ameth relayed the message and, amazingly, it worked. Ameth was straining hard to support the other dragon, but luckily the ground wasn't far. They landed with a jolt that rattled Kylar's teeth, and the blue roared out in pain. Both dragons were panting, and Kylar knew Ameth would be in no shape for duty for a few days, but her main concern right now was for the blue.
^What's the blue's name, Ammie? Bespeak him and find out how bad he's hurt.^ Kylar swiftly unbuckled her straps and vaulted off Ameth's neck, moving quickly to inspect the blue's wing. By this time, a small crowd was gathered, having witnessed the tragedy.
^Forlornth says it's just his wing. He says it hurts!^
^Well, of course it hurts,^ Kylar bit back, a bit too fiercely, as she gently proved the tiny bones in Forlornth's wing. ^His rider took him too close. He tore his wing.^ Kylar shot a glance at the blue's rider, who had the sense to look guilty. "I'm Kylar, I'm a healer," she said curtly.
The boy, for he couldn't have been more than 17 turns, nodded. "B'lon."
Kylar waved at him, turning her attention back to Forlornth's wing. "Get by his head and comfort him. He's hurting, and he's going to hurt worse before this is over with." B'lon moved to obey, and Kylar finished her examination of the blue's wing. Miraculously, only the last "finger" bone of his wing was broken. But his wingsail...Kylar shook her head in disgust. It would take great care and skill to repair the tattered fragments so that Forlornth could fly again.
"Where's the sharding Weyrhealer?" Kylar muttered as she swing around. A small man, with grizzled features and salt & pepper hair, stepped in front of her.
"Jorlan, ma'am," he said. "Master Healer. My specialty is people, but I'll help where I can."
Kylar nodded curtly. "I need to get this wing supported. Then I'll need lots of numbweed, redwort, needle and thread." She turned to the group of onlookers and spotted T'ron, standing anxiously at the edge of the crowd. She flashed him a brief smile, then addressed the crowd. "If there is anyone with good seamstress skills, I could use a hand stitching up this wing."
A young woman stepped forward nervously, and Kylar grabbed her. "What's your name?"
"Um, Cariona, ma'am."
"Kylar." She nodded curtly, then the medical supplies arrived and she went to work.
Three hours later, Kylar lay on a cot in the infirmary, exhausted. Forlornth was sleeping not far from her, his wing stitched, bandaged, and supported by an intricate framework. Kylar groaned as T'ron dug his thumbs into the sore muscles of her back and shoulders. "Feel good?" he asked.
"Mmmmm..." was all Kylar could manage. She glanced over at B'lon, asleep at his dragon's head. The boy had confessed that he hadn't been paying attention to how close he was to the spindle. Kylar pittied him for when his Weyrleader finally got a hold of him. At least Forlornth would fly again. Well, she hoped, anyway. She had no reason to believe otherwise--the reconstruction of the wing had gone rather well. Cariona had nimble fingers, and the blue's wing was pieced together with tight, neat stitches.
Kylar groaned again as T'ron hit a particularly stiff spon on her lower back. The massage felt amazingly good, however, and it wasn't long before she was sound asleep, snoring lightly.
Kylar managed to enjoy the rest of the Festival, despite her aching muscles. The race committee had awarded her an honorary price for her valiant efforts. Kylar didn't mind, as more people stopped her to thank or congratulate her for the job she did on Forlornth's wing. T'ron was pleasantly surprised that they didn't have to spend much of their marks--most merchants offered a bit of their wares as a gift for Kylar. Shortly before midnight, T'ron let Kylar be whirled away by another dancer and slipped off to spend some of his marks.
As the dance ended, Kylar searched the crowd for T'ron. She began to get worried, however, when she couldn't spot his brown head and green eyes in the crowd anywhere. ^He is alright,^ Ameth said in her mind. ^He is planning to surprise you.^
Kylar raised an eyebrow. ^Well, it'll hardly be a surprise now,^ she commented wryly.
^But I have not told you how he will surprise you. Do not fret, my sweet girl.^
Kylar chuckled and excused herself from the dancing party. She made her way slowly to the field where the dragons waited, the twin moons shedding ample light as she weaved between gather tents. She reached her dragon's side and leaned against her warm hide, rinning hr hands lightly along Ameth's neck.
^Did you get them?^ Ameth asked, with such a bright color of hope to her mindvoice that Kylar laughed. She fished in her pocket and brought out a handful of lemon drops.
"Of course I did, love," she whispered, hodling out her palm. Ameth licked them up, sucking and munching rather noisily on them. "Greedy." Kylar chuckled and turned to sut against Ameth's side.
T'ron found her curled there a few minutes later, Ameth's tail protectively draped over her, snoring lightly. He hed a finger to his lips as he bespoke his dragon. ^Tell Ameth not to wake her. She needs the rest.^ Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he settled himself next to her and, wrapped in dragon warmth, fell asleep as well.
Dawn and returning riders woke them a few hours later. Kylar blinked sleepily at T'ron, frowning. "Where'd you go, love? You had me worried."
T'ron chuckled, his eyes twinkling mischeviously. "I had to spend a few more of my marks. I've got a surprise for you."
Kylar smiled eagerly. "What is it?"
T'ron held up a finger. "Now, dear, you'll just have to wait. Patience is a virtue." Kylar pouted and fidgeted childishly. T'ron merely waggled his finger, and she subsided.
The flight back to Fort took little time and was uneventful. Ameth and Kelieth settled on their ledge, and Kylar breathed in the warmer air. She slid off Ameth's back with a sigh, leaning tiredly against her soft, warm hide. T'ron came up behind her and put his arms around her. Kylar turned into his embrace gratefully and allwed herself to be led into their weyr.
She stopped, instantly awake, when she saw what awaited her in the dragons' chamber. Across Ameth's couch, a brand new set of flying leathers had been laid out, with a matching pair of boots standing on the floor. The leathers were died a rich cinnamon brown, the fastenings and trim dyed black. Intricate knotwork had been tooled into the leather along collar and cuffs, and had been dyed varying shades of aqua green. The fleece lining was soft and died a green to match the deepest of the green in the leatherwork. All buckles were brightly polished and the belt was even set with a blue-green gem at the buckle.
On the wall, the pegs which should have been empty for Ameth's straps and harness were no longer so. A harness hung there, even more a work of art than the leathers. It was dyed black, but the fill dye in the toolings transformed it into a gay maze of blues and greens overlaying the strong but supple black harness. Bright silver D-rings and snaps jingled merrily in the slight breeze, and tiny green gems winked at Kylar from their settings along the breastplate.
All in all, it was a gorgeous affair, and Kylar was certain it had cost a fortune in marks. She whirled on T'ron, an accusatory glint in her eyes. "How much did you spend?! And how long have you been planning this? This stuff was special-made, for the greens to match Ameth's hide so well. Where-ever did you get the marks for this? It's beautiful!"
T'ron chuckled as Kylar waved her hands in the air excitedly. He grabbed her to him and kissed her soundly. "It was going to be a turnday present. The master craftsman I commissioned it from was at the Festival today. He told me he had it finished, but I didn't quite have the marks to pay him yet. After your heroic display today, he insisted on lowering his price so I could give it to you early. Do you like it, really?"
Kylar nodded, kissing him and guiding him back to their chamber, where she proceeded toshow him just how much she liked it.
The sun rose brightly on the morning of Kylar's 19th turnday. It was a glorious day, and Kylar hurried down to the kitchen, knowing Kookie was serving her favorite: hot glazed sweetrolls and fresh cider straight from Nabol's orchards. T'ron was out on duty, riding sweep, but had let her sleep in today. Kylar waved as she saw the bron in the sky, not caring whether he could see her or not, and disappeared into the caverns.
The smell of sweetrolls made her stomach rumble hungruly and she dove into the plate of rolls with careless abandon. She winked at Kookie, smiling around a mouthful of sticky roll, and snagged yet another one from the plate. Kylar was technically off-duty for today, but she planned to make the short trip to Healer Hall. There was a class of young apprentices, and she had been asked to teach them some basic dragonhealing skills.
Tossing back the last of her cider, Kylar thanked Kookie once again before heading out to where Ameth waited patiently for her in the Bowl. Pulling herself up and over with Ameth's friendly assistance, kylar snapped herself in and braced herself against Ameth's powerful launch.
Kylar waved to her weyrmate again from the air, this time sure he could see her. ^Tell him we'll see him for dinner, love, then let's get to the Hall. I'm running late already.^ Ameth passed the message on, then took them *between* as Kylar imaged the sky above the Hall.
^Kelieth says they will be waiting for us,^ Ameth said as she settled in the courtyard in front of the Hall. Kylar nodded and undid her straps, sliding from Ameth's neck.
A small group of apprentices was waiting for her near the door. Kylar waved to them, indicating they should join her. She placed a hand on Ameth's neck and turned on her "teaching" mode. "Hello. I'm Journeyman Kylar, and this is my dragon, Ameth." Ameth rumbled pleasantly and Kylar smiled. "Ameth says she is very pleased to meet you. Now, today I'm going to show you, with the help of Ameth here, some basic techniques for applying your healing skills to dragons."
Kylar heard a murmur from the rear of the group and shot a stern glance in that direction. "Some of you may be wondering why we healers take care of dragons instead of the Beastcraft. WEll, that's simple. Dragon's aren't beasts. They're intelligent, like the dolphins..." Ameth interrupted her with a not-so-gentle nudge. Several of the apprentices chucklesd at the offended manner of the green, and kylar corrected herself with a smile. "Okay, so they're smarter than dolphins. But, like dolphins, they think for themselves and can communicate with us. The Beastcraft deals with the beasts of Pern, so that leaves us healers with the dragons."
Seeing the nods of understanding, Kylar continued. "Dragons are very different from humans, or from any other animal save the firelizards, so it takes special training to properly care for an injured dragon. My goal today is to teach you some basic first aid, as well as general dragon physiology, so that in a pinch you can care for dragons. Who knows," she said with a smile, "some of you may decide to devote your healer training to dragons."
The day went well, and Kylar was sure she had won at least one apprentice, a young girl named Marlyn, over to dragonhealing. All the apprentices, incluidng the one who had made the remark about dragons being beasts, had been impressed by just how different dragons were from any other patient they might have. Kylar hoped she had given them a newfound respect for dragons and their riders.
Kylar and Ameth appeared over Fort just as the sun was setting. Despite the fact that she had done no actual physical labor, Kylar felt exhausted. Fielding questions from curious apprentices was no easy task.
T'ron was waiting for her in their weyr. Kylar stripped the flying haress off Ameth and gave her a pat as the green spread her wings and went insearch of her own dinner. Kylar hung the straps on their pegs with a weary sigh and was pleasantly surprised to smell the aroma of baked fish and a hearty tuber soup wafting from the inner chamber. T'ron saw her eyes light up and grinned. "I thought you might like a quiet dinner alone tonight."
Kylar nodded and headed in as fast as her tired legs would carry her. Shedding her jacket and helmet, Kylar arranged herself on a pile of pillows before the low table. She inhaled deeply, her mouth watering, and she smiled warmly at T'ron. They weyr was dark, lit only by a pair of flickering candles set on the table. Kylar's eyes sparkled in the light, as did the wine T'ron poured from a non-descript flask before seating himself opposite her. Kylar took a tentative sip, then her eyes widened in delight as she took a longer swallow. "Benden White! Howevre did you manage this time of year?"
T'ron placed his hand over hers and smiled tenderly. "Only the best for the best, my love." The warmth and love in his voice brought tears to Kylar's eyes, and the food was soon forgotten in their passion.
Chapter 3
Clouds loomed dark and ominous over the rim of the Bowl. Kylar scowled at the weather, donning her water-proofed leathers for today's sweep duty. It was days like this that made her want to curl up in bed and forget the world for a while. The only bright side to this whole sharding thing was that T'ron was her sweep partner. At least she'd have someone interesting to keep her company.
Mumbling under her breath, Kylar pulled down her goggles and braced herself for the gusts of wind out on the ledge. How they would be able to take off in this weather was beyond her. What amazed her more was that the Weyrleaders had insisted they keep their duty. No dragon should be flying in weather like this! It was only a matter of time before the storm struck.
Out on the ledge, T'ron was double-checking Kelieth and Ameth's harnesses. He nodded to her, his mouth set in a tight line as he tugged on a slightly worn spot in his harness. "Have to replace that soon. Don't want it to break on me," he mumbled.
Kylar hauled herself up on Ameth's neck, groaning with the effort. ^We should not be flying today, rider-mine,^ Ameth said vehemently. Kylar sighed and glanced over at T'ron, mounting Kelieth and buckling himself in.
^I know, dearest, but we have orders.^ Kylar fumbled with her snaps, still reluctant. She cast another concerned glance at the sky.
^They are riders. Theire dragons say it is too dangerous to fly. Why do they not listen?^
Kylar gave Ameth a pat as she launched herself from the ledge, Kelieth right behind her. Ameth strained to keep herself upright and ascending in the timutuous currents of air. ^I don't know, love. Just fly your best and hope to Faranth we get recalled before the weather gets any worse.^
Kylar's wish was not granted, however, and the weather proceeded to deteriorate as they flew their sweep. Already kylar's supposedly water proofed leathers were soaked, and she was constantly wiping rain from her goggles.
^This is useless,^ she sighed. ^I don't care what K'nor says. We're not staying out here any longer.^
Ameth relayed the message to Kelieth as she turned toward home. Suddenly, the clouds above them erupted in lightning, flashing brightly. The air vibrated witht he force of the thunder and Kylar cursed under her breath. ^Forget the Weyr. Get us down now!^ Ameth dove for the ground, Kelieth not far behind her.
Another violent flash of light, and Kylar heard an unearthly scream behind her. Turning to look, panic sending her heart rate soaring, she saw T'ron, smoking and actually crackling with electricity. Kelith was little better off, his own hide an electric blue as he struggled to keep afliight with muscles that now seemed to have a mind of their own.
The pair crashed to the ground, Kylar screaming in fear. Ameth, her whole body tense with her own panic, follwed them down. Kylar had her straps undone and had leapt from Ameth's back before she even touched the ground.
Furiously pulling at T'ron's straps, shocking herself from the contact, Kylar worked to pull her mate from his dragon. Tears flowed freely from her eyes, and Kylar's voice was strained as she screamed her pain. "T'ron! Don't you dare die on me! T'ron! I won't let you die! Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!" Her voice rose in a keen, as she shook T'ron violently. His eyes were white and spotted with boils. His skin, too, was blistered, and he lay limp and lifeless in her arms. Kelieth, too, was keening his sorrow and pain. Unable to fly, he merely closed his eyes and disappeared forever *between*.
Kylar's voice was ragged as she clutched T'ron's lifeless body to her, but it rose in a scream of anguish that almost rivaled Ameth's keen of loss. Falling forward on her knees, face burried in T'ron's charred clothes, Kylar fell deeper and deeper into the blackness of dispair, oblivious to the rain poinding down on her.
The first thing she noticed was the smell of klah. A few soft sounds of someone moving about reached her ears, and she rolled over with a smile, expecting to open her eyes to see T'ron preparing breakfast. The sight that met her eyes, however, was that of Morcant, one of the Weyr's new Journeyman Healers, mixing up a draught of some kind. Kylar frowned, then gasped in shock as she remembered what had happened. Concern and loving support flooded her mind from her dragon as the healer looked up. He moved to the side of her bed, a look of quiet concern on his face, and spoke softly. "Well, you're awake. How are you feeling?"
Kylar coughed lightly, sinking back into the pillows with a sigh of defeat. "I've been better," she said wryly.
Morcant's mouth quirked up on one side. He patted her hand lightly. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Kylar snorted and rolled over, turning her back to the healer. "It won't make it any easier," she said testily, the pillow muffling her voice slightly. "It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for such an utterly stupid reason!" Kylar sat up, eyes flashing with anger. She stood, throwing back the covers, and stiffly pulled on her flight clothes. "I refuse to stay in a Weyr that doesn't take care for its riders's safety." She snatched up Ameth's flying harness, not even noticing that it was the fancy harness T'ron had commissioned, and stormed out of her weyr. Morcant followed anxiously behind her, pleading and trying to appeal to her better sense. Kylar heard none of it. She threw the harness over Ameth's neck, buckled it, and hauled herself aboard. The green dragon turned her head to regard her rider with rapidly whirling eyes of yellow anxiety, then spread her wings and launched herself from the ledge. Morcant stood on the edge, staring in bewilderment as the green and her rider disappeared *between*.
It was nearly a sevenday later when an Ierne rider received a distress call through his dragon. ^There is a frantic green at the Cove. She is very worried about her rider.^
B'nell frowned down at the blue neck in front of him. ^Who is it, Merranth? And what is wrong with her rider?^ Even as he spoke, he turned his blue toward the Cove.
After a short pause, Merranth replied, ^Ameth, of,^ and here he pictured Fort Weyr. ^She says her rider has not been well these past days, and now she won't answer.^ The blue also passed on a mental image of the woman, and B'nell's eyes widened.
^Send back to the Weyrhold for help, Merry. We need to get there now!^ The blue rumbled acknowledgement and blinked *between* to the Cove.
Ameth cried her distress to the blue when he appeared in the sky above her. She moved over slightly, still hovering over her rider, as B'nell leapt from Merranth's back and rushed to the girl's side. She lay unconcious, naked, in the shade provided by her dragon. Her skin was burned a crisp red, and blood coated her thighs. B'nell reached for his canteen and propped the girl up, trying to get some water into her, but managed only to dribble it down her face. The loud trumpet of a dragon caused him to look up, and he spotted three more dragons, two with extra passengers, emerge from *between*.
The next few minutes were spent attempting to get the rider bundled up and onto Merranth's back. It didn't help that Ameth had to be convinced that this was all for the best of her rider.
B'nell spent most of the next sevenday watching over Kylar, helping the healers, and taking care of Ameth. The Weyrhold had sent to Fort, to inform them of Kylar's whereabouts, and the Fort Weyrleader had seemed relieved that she had been found. But he had made it clear in no uncertain terms that, while he thought Kylar an able, responsible rider, he did not expect her to return to Fort Weyr.
The girl had been in sad shape when they brought her in. Besides the obvious severe burning and heat stroke from the harsh Ierne sun, her condition had been worsened by the fact that she had been pregnant and had miscarried.
A groan from the direction of the bed alerted B'nell to the fact that the girl was waking. He swiftly moved to her side, kneeling down beside the bed. He placed a hand on her forhead and noted with relief that she was no longer burning up--her fever had broken. This was one patient he had been determined not to lose. He knew the old healers' adage about not becoming attatched to one's patients, but something about this one had touched him, somehow. He didn't know if it was the little he had gleaned through his dragon about what had happened to her, or her desperate struggle to survive. It didn't help, either, that, beneath her burns, she was rather fetching.
Kylar groaned again. She didn't want to open her eyes for fear of what she would see. She had no clue where she was or what had happened to her. All she knew was that she hurt all over. Places she didn't know existed hurt. She wanted to go back to that nice warm place where nothing hurt, but something was calling her away, an insistant pressure on her mind. There was a cool, gentle touch on her forehead and a soft voice whispering something she couldn't quite discern. With a sigh of bolstering courage, she opened her eyes to see what fate awaited her.
The shock of seeing eyes of a clear, icy blue framed by those long black lashes held B'nell speachless for a long moment. He had long speculated on what color those eyes might be, but he had never suspected a color so light and true. He blinked once, then, regaining his wits, smiled down at Kylar. "Well, good morning!" he said cheerily. "'Tis time you'd be returned to the land of the living. How're you feeling?"
Kylar fround up at the unfamiliar face hovering over her. He wore the knot of a bluerider and a Journeyman healer, but it took her a moment to place the Weyr his colors heralded. The her eyes widened as she matched the colors with a place--Ierne Weyrhold. "So, I made it after all," she whispered. Or tried to. All she managed was a strangled croak.
B'nell reached hurriedly for a glass and a pitcher of water. "Aye, you've not had use of it for a while, so." Carefully he propped her up and helped her to a few sips. Kylar smiled gratefullyy at the man and sank back into her pillows. "So, I made it," she repeated. "But I hurt all over, so something must have happened."
B'nell chuckled wryly as he placed the glass back on the table. "Aye, you could say that. We found you unconscious at the cove, and yourself in a fine state. What do you remember of it?"
