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Telatl trained hard for his first sevenday back on his feet, evidently impressing Sovek enough to outweigh his fight with Surindi. The head of ground crew had as many kind words as those of criticism for him which, considering the way Sovek dealt with his crews, was no small accomplishment.
The first fall he was scheduled to fight in came two sevendays into his training. Sovek began the practice the same as any. At the end, when everyone was too tired to try to hide it and was sprawled on the grass, sipping from water skins, he stood up and cleared his throat for attention.
"You boys have been training for a while now, and I think you're ready to fight Thread. All crews will be needed. We will go in shifts, four crews of five men at a time. When one crew tires, is too injured, or their shift is up, whichever comes first, they will be replaced. The shifts are as follows: Shift one: Arisun, Ortol, Girson, Farlik and Telatl's crew. Surindi, Tomarid, Irsiar, Lidoon, and Juytiyn's crew. Sederai, Riskel, Kimirn, Xicray, and Porlon's crew. Heleln, Urusk, Vemart, and Jurin's crew. Shift two:.."
Telatl's ears kept listening as the procession of names went on, but his mind stopped after his own. He was finally going to be fighting Thread. Like a normal man, not some useless cripple. The triumphant thought came arm in arm with a flicker of fear which Telatl tried but could not entirely put out. What if he really was a cripple? What if Ground Crew really was too dangerous for him? What if he lost another leg?
You're not, it's not, you won't, Sirin answered blandly as if to a dimglow when he voiced these worries to her later while a healer put a fresh dressing on his stump. You worry too much.
Do I? Telatl wondered. Can you really blame me for it? One day I was one of the best runners on the continent, the next day I wake up and find myself a cripple. Don't I have a right to worry about what might happen?
One night, you went to sleep without a flit, Sirin reminded him, the next day you woke up and Impressed me. Was that anything to worry about?
Facing Impressing a flit is not like facing Thread, Sir, Telatl replied. You weren't going to eat me alive the moment you touched me.
Sirin gently took his hand in her mouth and shook it. Don't be too sure about that. If you hadn't had that boot, I might have tried your hand. But you didn't know what Impressing a flit would be like anymore than you know what fighting Thread will be like. Impressing me was relatively painless. Why worry that fighting Thread will be any different until you know otherwise?
Telatl didn't have any time to reply. A flustered, red faced young drudged burst into the infirmary. "Telatl! Sovek wants you now! The Thread's gonna be here early!"
Telatl was up in a minute, all but flying down the hall with his crutches. He'd become quite skilled at using them, it was almost as natural as walking or running had been. All around him, the frantic hold was preparing for the early Fall but Telatl and the silver-copper flit streaking along beside him paid the chaos no attention. Their goal was the shed that housed the flame throwers. Nothing else was important if they didn't get there in time.
The rest of the first shift was already there, clad in their fighting gear and making sure their equipment was in order. A journeywoman and three apprentices were checking their supplies and the journeywoman frowned at his stump as he passed but Telatl paid her no notice. Buttoning his jacket to the chin, Telatl swung easily up to Sovek. "I'm here, sir," he announced.
Sovek searched his eyes for a moment. "You're sure you want to do this, Telatl? You know what you're getting into?"
Telatl almost backed down then and there but a reproachful nip on his ear from Sirin changed his mind. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't, sir," Telatl replied as cheerfully as he could. Sirin hummed happily.
Sovek nodded and handed Telatl "his" flamethrower. "Good luck, Telatl. Don't do anything stupid out there."
Telatl managed a wry grin. "I'll try my hardest, Sovek."
While Sirin acquired a few small chunks of firestone and started chewing, Telatl made sure the flamethrower was perfect. He had come to know this machine as well as himself in the past week. He knew its strengths and weaknesses. Where its limits lay and which ones not to push. Now he just had to make sure he didn't forget.
Stop doubting yourself, Sirin chided. You'll do fine.
"Here it comes!" Sovek bellowed the warning. "In your positions!"
There was a moment's chaos as men scrambled to their positions. Sirin, like the other flits scattered among the crew, crouched on his shoulder, mouth closed, every muscle in her little body taught and ready to leap at and char any Thread she saw. Telatl spared a glance back at the security of the hold, metal shutters and doors closed. He didn't even feel the slightest wish to be safe inside.
The leading edge appeared over the horizon and made Telatl glad he couldn't run for the safety of the hold. It was sheeting today, lucky him, so it looked like a writhing wall of silver, pulsing as though it were alive. He could see the tiny flames of flits among the fray and the long jets of flame throwers from the ground crews of the neighboring hold. There were, however, no dragons.
"Where in Faranth's name are the dragons?" Arisun demanded, his voice as much angry as it was scared. "Do they expect ground crews to fight the entire fall?"
"They've been caught as much off guard by the early fall as we have," Sovek reminded the crew. "For now, I want everybody fighting! Spread out, cover as much ground as you can. Felei, can you get some more healers out here? I think there are going to be a lot of injuries today." This last was to the journeywoman, who nodded solemnly and sent one of her apprentices in.
The wall bore down on them and the crews responded flames. Sirin lept from Telatl's shoulder, belching flame as she went. The other flits followed her and soon they were all flicking in and out of between too fast for they eye to follow.
The eyes of the ground crew were too occuied to follow the flits' efforts. Telatl watched out for his own Sirin but could only hope he didn't hit any other flits on accident. It was hard enough to fight without thinking about the flits. No matter how much thread he charred, how many tounges of orange flame his flamethrower threw, there was more Thread raining down to replace it. He fell into the rythym of a fighter unconciously. Sight, claim, shoot, pump. Sight, claim, shoot, pump. Over and over until he was sure he could not raise the flamethrower a single time more but forced his tired arms nonetheless. He had to.
Out of nowhere, he felt a searing pain in all along his back, as if millions of tiny knives were cutting into him, piercing everything between skin and bone at the same moment so that the pain was absolute. He dropped to his knees, back arched in an unpossible position in a useless attempt to get rid of the pain, unable to scream though his mouth worked. He didn't need to scream. Sirin screamed for him. Flaming at thread as she sped towards him, Sirin appeared at his side, protecting him until the healers could reach him and drag him under cover.
He shivered as ice cold water was poured on his back until it was numb. The pain died down a bit, though he had the sickening feeling of something writhing and dying inside his back. "Shards that hurts!" he managed through clenched teeth. "So that's threadscore, huh?
Felei nodded grimly. "Very bad threadscore. You're lucky you were fighting near us. If the Threads had reached your spinal cord you would have been dead or wishing you were."
Telatl shivered and tried not to think about it. "Is anyone else hurt?" he asked, not sure if he wanted to know.
"Surindi may have to have his arm amputated," Felei replied quietly as she slathered numbweed on Telatl's back. "I guess you're going to get your revenge on him afterall."
Telatl thought he would have felt satisfaction at this news. Instead, he felt a deep sorrow and empathy for the runner, even if they were enemies. Much as he wanted revenge on Surindi, he wouldn't wish losing a limb on anyone and he told Felei as much. The journeywoman just shrugged and kept working.
He deserved it, Sirin told her human. He took away your leg. You can't walk. He still can.
No one deserves this, Telatl replied sadly, glancing over to where Surindi lay, eyes fixed blankly on the metal roof above him, obviously trying not to cry as the healers debated his fate.
"We're sorry, Surindi, we cannot save both you and your arm," the same healer who had explained a similar tragedy to Telatl was telling Surindi in that infuriating matter of fact voice. "We could not kill the Threads. If we do not amputate now, they will spread to your heart and kill you."
Surindi didn't reply, just gave the barest of nods and accepted the drink an apprentice held to his lips. Before his eyes closed, he looked over at Telatl, pain, fear, and apology in his eyes. Telatl smiled and nodded reassuringly. Surindi smiled weakly back and then closed his eyes as the drink began to take effect.
There was no curtain between the other wounded being tended to and Surindi as his arm was amputated. Most of the other wounded looked away, but Telatl forced himself to watch. He couldn't help but wonder if this is what his own amputation had looked like.
Surindi looked so pitiful, Telatl's heart couldn't help but go out to him. Sirin, evidently, was similarily torn. With a snort of disgust, she ambled over to him and, to the suprise of both healers and wounded, curled up in the curve of Surindi's neck, crooning reassuringly, as his own flit might have done had he had one.
He needs someone to comfort him, Sirin explained. His flit would do the same for you, if you were he. Plus, I don't think Felei likes flits too much.
Telatl began to form a reply but was cut short by cheers from the weary ground crew. A lone blue had appeared, belching flame and cutting a path through the retreating wall of Thread.
Too late for me, too late for Surindi, Telatl thought grimly.
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