Dragonstorm

Mighty dragon, bronze of hue,

heed the call of fate.

Blood your kill, fly swift and strong.

Take your queen to mate.

9th Pass -- Year 26 - January

(Somewhere on Ista Island, January 22nd)

Astaroth wasn't impressed. He could smell trouble at a distance and this plan reeked of it. 'They aren't going to like this,' he reminded his companion.

'What are they going to do?' Darian retorted. 'Send us home?'

'I hope not. I like it here.'

The avion was getting irritated. It wasn't like the black to resist a challenge, particularly one that held possibilities like this. Astaroth had always enjoyed stirring things up. Why was he so reluctant now? 'What's bothering you?'

'They've let us do just about anything we want thus far. We've even broken their precious customs and gotten away with it. But this they may not tolerate. I don't want to be on the run again. I like doing what I want when I want. Don't ruin it.'

'We belong to this Weyr. Their custom says that any dragon within a Weyr can take part in a mating flight. You're going to take part. It's perfectly normal.'

The black disagreed. ' If we intended to fly the queen and claim the Weyr leadership, yes. You don't. You're only trying to make a point. This is childish and dangerous.'

'What's so dangerous about it?'

'To do what you ask we'll be mind-linked. Remember, it's been nearly ninety cycles since I mated. Their queens are clumsy and overly large but not entirely unattractive. What happens if I choose to mate the queen?'

'Then I guess I'm Weyrleader.'

'That doesn't concern me. You can have the Weyr, if you want it. If I fly the queen, can you avoid flying the queenrider?'

The Cygnan considered that question. He'd been mind-linked with Astaroth before. The effect had been powerful but controllable. There shouldn't be an appreciable difference now. Even if the black did elect to mount Caylith, he didn't have to follow through with Cosira. In fact, that could be an interesting situation. What would the high and mighty bronzeriders do if Astaroth flew their queen while his rider snubbed Cosira? He wondered if they had a tradition to cover that.

Thoughts of yesterday's second meeting drifted into his consciousness. F'nor had stayed, knowing that F'lar would be visiting the Istan Weyrleader. It was late afternoon before G'dened asked the masterhealer and wingsecond to come to the council chamber. Darian recalled mild surprise at finding both Cosira and Selana waiting with the Weyrleaders.

G'dened told them that he understood their problem and their concern but was unable to do anything about it. Ista had too many bronzes and he couldn't deny them a queen by declaring a restricted flight. He couldn't do that anyhow, as it was Scylenth's first flight. He would consider allowing an outside rider to attend if Selana so chose. More than that he was either unable or unwilling to do. Darian's protests had fallen on deaf ears.

The avion wasn't certain which had angered him more, the Weyrleader's intransigence or watching Selana leave the chamber in tears. Cosira had left with her, azure eyes flashing a furious fire. He'd seen the Istan flinch under F'lar's unreadable regard, but that did nothing to placate him. The Bendenite had done all he was willing to do. He'd tried, as F'nor had promised. Well, Darian was finished with trying. He was about to start doing. 'If it happens, it happens. I'll live with it.'

'Very well. What are my option limitations?'

'Don't hurt Caylith or Barnath. If Talonth chases, don't hurt him. Other than that, anything goes.'

A great black head swung toward the avion. Red eyes flared in anticipation of airborne action. 'Only Quarelth should be a challenge to Barnath. He's the fastest here.'

Darian sensed the contempt in his dragon's thoughts. He smiled sourly. 'Yeah, they are slow, aren't they? Just makes it easier for us.'

'What do I do if Quarelth closes on the queen?'

'Whatever it takes. Roast him or drive him between for all I care. He doesn't fly that queen, understand?'

The black snorted his comprehension. His eyes glowed an even deeper shade of red, a rivulet of smoke escaping his muzzle.

'Have you eaten?'

'Yesterday, with Mareka. We fished in the bay. I'm not hungry.'

'Good. I appreciate your watching her. She likes you.'

Astaroth thought about the young avion. Loner that he was, should anything happen to the avion, Mareka would be his only companion, the only remaining tie to Cygnus. That probably explained why he felt so protective of her. 'She flies well. Her instincts are good. I like her.'

Darian grunted, watching the huge red orb of the sun spread across the eastern horizon. Rising over the water and the tip of the Istan island's peninsula, the flaming ball seemed to be everywhere. It was an awe-inspiring sight. He could do without the heat, though. What little excuse for winter Ista had was already over.

Only the pre-dawn hours gave any respite from the cloying humidity and enervating heat of the tropical day. By mid-morning, it would be uncomfortably warm. He didn't want to spend another blistering summer in Ista but a transfer seemed unlikely. He would have to use his position as masterhealer to travel as much as possible.

The rustling of wind in the trees brought him out of his daydream. He loved this little cove, one of two he often retreated to for solitude. Only Astaroth and Selana had seen them. He found them relaxing, isolated from the strain and the impending disaster that threatened to crush his frail life on this strange world. Right now, there was no time for self-pity or peaceful reflection. There was serious work to be done. He turned back to Astaroth.

'Once you've chased the others and I'm done with Cosira and G'dened, you may have to influence Barnath to get him back into the flight. Can you handle that?'

'Barnath's no problem. These animals are incapable of resisting influence. They don't even know it's being used on them. Can you handle the riders?'

'Same there. They won't even know what's happening.'

'The Weyrleader is suspicious. Don't underestimate him.'

'I won't,' the avion assured his massive friend. ' Remember, he'll be in the middle of a mating frenzy. He's not going to be able to think clearly. It'll be simple.'

'Regardless, it wouldn't hurt to have Akira nearby.'

'Now that's not a bad idea.'

'How much trouble do you think we'll be in if I flame Quarelth?'

'Why would you want to?'

'Haven't had any airborne combat in quite a while. It'd be fun. Not much of a challenge, but fun.'

'I don't know. Who cares? Just don't make a mistake.'

'Idiot.'

The rising sun warned them to get back to the Weyr. Side by side, avion and dragon soared through the Istan sky. Astaroth set a leisurely pace. Even so, Darian had to strain to stay with him. Both enjoyed such flights. It gave them a chance to exercise physically and relax mentally at the same time. Of late such opportunities had been rare. The avion noticed that he and the black had been drifting apart. Not that they'd ever been overly close, but each had gone his own way since their arrival on Pern.

That seemed even more applicable to Loki and Akira. They'd found their personal niche in society and settled in comfortably. With Thread the only common enemy and only two of them capable of fighting it, the quartet had slowly fallen apart. True, they were all still Cygnan, all still linked telepathically and empathically, but the need for the close liaison that had molded their association no longer existed. Their meetings were more by chance than design. Darian wondered if they were a team anymore. It would likely take a crisis to find out. With those requirements, he'd rather not.

It was mid-morning when they crossed into the Weyrbowl. The watch-dragon trumpeted its usual greeting, returned by both. They were heading for Scylenth's ledge when a waving motion from the bowl distracted Darian. He turned toward the summons as Astaroth continued.

The Cygnan circled, backwinging to a landing next to the waiting queenrider. She smiled at him warmly. "Good morning, my winged wonder."

"Morning. She eating again?"

"She's always eating. Has to keep her strength up, you know."

"With you as her rider, I have no doubt." He got a quick poke in the ribs for his effort.

"Be nice now. Even though that's hard for you."

"Why set a new precedent? If I started being nice no one would recognize me."

The rider turned a curious gaze on him. Something in his manner, a restrained excitement, told her he'd hatched another plot. She glanced around the Weyr, looking for anything unusual. The only thing she noticed was Astaroth, perched on the lip of the bowl, directly above the senior queen's weyr. The young woman looked back at the avion. "What are you up to?"

Darian smiled slyly. "Seen Caylith lately?"

"Of course. She'll be rising soon. Maybe today."

Darian nodded, his smile widening.

Her eyes narrowed at the reaction. Again, she looked up at the black dragon, then at his grinning rider. Her mouth fell open. "Darian! You wouldn't!"

The thoroughly evil laugh that answered said he not only would, he was going to. She placed her hands on her hips, facing him defiantly. "Darian, that's unheard of! It's unconscionable! It's no contest!" Again, he nodded, the cruel grin still stretched across his face. She stared at him silently, lips drawn into a tight line. Then her expression softened. A wry smile touched her lips, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I'm jealous," she snickered.

He smiled down at her. "Don't be, my pretty. I plan on throwing her back."

"Oh? Got another fish in mind?"

"No. But Astaroth prefers Valkryth. He's made that obvious."

"She likes him," Elysina said. "I approve. Be warned, my friend. Queens, and queenriders, have a way of getting what they want."

"With Pernese dragons, yes," Darian reminded her. "Astaroth's not Pernese."

"No, he isn't. Neither is his rider." The dark-haired beauty gave him an openly suggestive regard. "That makes it even more interesting."

"Pull your claws in, Elysina. I have no intention of betraying my wife. I may not have talons, but I do have fangs. And I know how to use them."

"Hmmm. I'll bet they could add some excitement."

The transparent comment unsettled him momentarily. Compared to the gentle relationship he shared with his wife and his reserved attraction toward the Benden Weyrhealer, Elysina's blatant sexuality unnerved and confused him. What worried him wasn't the girl's attitude, but his reaction to it. He was starting to enjoy her flirtatious teasing. If she became aggressive, he didn't know if he could resist her, or if he wanted to.

Darian's hand eased up to stroke her cheek. It proved a mistake. She turned toward him, stepping into his arms. The kiss lasted only a moment. That was enough for the avion. He backed away quickly.

Elysina looked at him wistfully, the tip of her tongue playing across her lips. "One of these days, blackrider... "

Darian eased into the air, hovering just out of her reach. He stared at her, hooking his fang. "Not likely, queenrider." Waving, he turned for his own weyr.

Scylenth was on her couch as he entered. She was surprised by his cheerful greeting and affectionate pat on the nose. The queen crooned a happy reply. Her eyes whirled a soft blue as she followed his progress into the inner chamber.

Darian eased up behind his wife. She was standing near the service shaft. He was about to nip her neck when she spoke.

"Uh uh. I know you're there. Scylenth told me." Turning, she slid her arms around his neck, pulling his head down until their foreheads touched. "There are advantages to having a dragon, you know."

"Yes, I know," he chuckled. "I've had one a few turns longer than you."

They shared a soft laugh. Selana reached up, kissing him. Then she turned back to the shaft. "I've already fed and oiled Scylenth this morning. Our breakfast is on the way. Are you hungry?"

"A little," he admitted absently. His mind wasn't on food now. He was curious as to why her kiss tasted subtly different. It was Selana, but not quite. He licked his lips, trying to identify the illusive tang.

"Elysina and Valkryth came to the feeding pens just as we left. She asked about you," the healer related. "You know, I think she really likes you."

That triggered his memory. It wasn't Selana's kiss he was tasting, it was Elysina's. Darian shook his head. "Really? That's interesting. I guess I like her. Don't know her well enough to be certain. She's different, that's for sure."

Selana's laugh made him look up. "Good. Let's keep it that way. I can't compete with someone who looks like her." She turned toward the table, carrying a small tray of breakfast meats, bread and juice. Her husband was already seated as she served the modest meal.

"How do you know what she looks like to an avion?" Darian teased.

"I don't. But your eyes are better than any Pernese'. Around Elysina, that's scary."

The Cygnan was spreading the light fruit paste on a roll when Selana started. Her eyes widened with concern. 'What is it, Scylenth? What's wrong, love?'

'Barnath is angry. Talonth is angry. Kirth is angry. What's wrong? All the bronzes are angry!'

From outside, several brassy roars sounded, followed by a variety of hisses and other trumpetings. The entire Weyr was in an uproar. Darian shot to his feet. "Go to Scylenth," he told his mate. "Keep her under control. Astaroth!"

'Ready.'

"Astaroth?" Selana asked, "What about Astaroth?"

"I want him out of here. With those lunatic bronzes charging all over the place, I don't want him in the air!"

"Darian! Where are you going? What's going on?"

He turned to her, meeting her frightened eyes. "Trust me, little one. There's nothing to worry about. See to your queen. Get her out of here. Follow Valkryth."

With one more step, he was in the outer weyr. Wings extended, the avion was airborne before he reached the ledge.

Several bronzes were among the stampeding herd beasts. Two more were on their way. A glance at Caylith's ledge showed a brown dragon perched there. It looked like Demelth. Cosira was climbing to his neck, accepting a hand from the rider. As soon as she was seated, the beast launched itself, gliding toward the center of the bowl.

Across the Weyr, he saw Caylith. The queen was circling, staring down at the feeding pens. Her hide glowed a brilliant orange-gold, eyes whirling violent red. An agitated hiss issued from her, answered by several of the waiting bronzes. Without warning, she dove. Dragons scattered to avoid her path, giving her unrestricted access to the unfortunate beasts within. She struck quickly, felling a large herdbeast.

Darian eased to a landing, watching the frenzied blood feast. He was aware of Cosira, struggling to control her queen, of the bronzeriders, intensely excited, their attention moving from their own dragons to the livid queen to Cosira, and of Astaroth, watching calmly from the Weyr rim, waiting for his opportunity.

With a violent bellow, Caylith felled another beast. Her muzzle bent to the throat, noisily draining the animal of blood. Cosira seemed to be glowing. The Cygnan stared at her. Her attitude fascinated him; the raw excitement, the perspiration of her mental exertion, her total lack of awareness of anything around her. The queenrider was totally caught up within her queen.

"Looks like an interesting flight," a voice beside him offered.

Darian started. He was surprised to realize that he'd been completely entranced in the pre-flight ritual.

The brownrider beside him was amused. "You're acting more like a dragonman every day." He pointed upward and behind them, where three queens lifted above the Weyrbowl and then disappeared.

"Stick around, my brown-riding friend. You may be surprised just how much I can act like a dragonman."

Caylith's challenge resounded across the bowl. She sprang so quickly that everyone was taken off-guard. Eight bronzes leapt to the pursuit. Amid the trumpeting of the remaining dragons, few noticed Darian's screel. Even fewer saw the black streak pass low across the Weyr rim, following the mating flight. One, however, was a brown dragon.

'Astaroth gives chase. Is he in the mating flight?'

T'marek turned on the avion, consternation written on his features. "Kelth says Astaroth has risen. What's going on?"

"It's a mating flight, isn't it? He's a member of this Weyr. So am I."

The bronzeriders had gathered about Cosira. Darian watched as they directed her back to her weyr. A deep excitement was building in him. His mind reached out. 'Monitor the flight, keep me informed.'

"Darian," the brownrider demanded, "what in the world are you up to? That's Caylith, not Scylenth! Astaroth shouldn't be in this flight!"

"Why not? If anyone else's dragon can be in Scylenth's flight, why can't mine be in Caylith's?"

T'marek was stunned. He didn't believe what was he was hearing. Astaroth flying Selana's queen he understood, almost expected. But Caylith? Caylith was senior queen. If the black caught her...

"I'll be Weyrleader," Darian confirmed, answering the unspoken question. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment to keep. With my Weyrwoman."

"Wait a minute!" the brownrider shouted. "Your weyrwoman is Selana, not Cosira. By the Egg, man, she's your wife! What are you trying to prove?"

"According to our beloved Weyrleader, I have no claim on Selana. She's not my wife, not my weyrmate, nothing, except Scylenth's rider and one of these bronze-riding bastards' future bed toy." The Cygnan glared viciously at T'marek. "Fair enough," he hissed, "it's his Weyr. For at least the next few minutes. I'm going to teach him a little lesson, and I'm going to do it by his rules. Astaroth, what's the flight status?"

'She's toying with them. Four are already tiring. Quarelth and Kirth are closest. Barnath is saving his strength. He's smart. Quarelth flies too fast. He'll tire. I see Barnath winning the queen.'

"Stay with them. She may be yours yet." The avion fanned his wings, easing into the air. His eyes caught the confused look on T'marek, bordering between fear and anger. "Relax, my friend," he smiled grimly. "This should be interesting. Besides, like I've been told, it only lasts eighteen to thirty-six hours. After that, G'dened can have her back. That's how it works, isn't it?" He pumped his wings, gaining altitude and turning. Below him, he heard the brownrider's final plea,

"Darian, don't! This is insane! Call him off!"

"I have no control, remember?" he called back. "It's all instinct. Sorry, but I have to do what's best for my dragon."

Having wings carried distinct advantages. Despite the delay caused by T'marek's protest, Darian was easily the first in the queen's weyr. By the time the rest of the mesmerized riders arrived, he'd taken a position in the sleeping chamber.

Half of the bronzes were struggling. The strain showed in the faces of their riders. The other four moved closer to Cosira, crowding the beaten dragonmen out. Darian surveyed the remaining contestants. They made an interesting group.

G'dened was the obvious choice. B'dor was capable, and Binath was a good dragon. Tr'san he could tolerate. The fourth rider raised his fur to an erect position. R'travil looked like a coiled snake, totally enraptured, ready to strike if his beast succeeded. The rider was almost frightening to look at. Darian promised himself that this bronzerider would never get near Selana.

He noticed that Pr'sin wasn't in the inner circle, hanging on at the edge. Had Talonth tired that quickly? He'd thought the young bronze stronger than that. 'Astaroth, what's wrong with Talonth?'

'Nothing. He's flying easily. Just doesn't seem overly interested. Or else he's hanging back. The queen is slowing down. They're closing on her. Quarelth is closest.'