The dormitory left a little to be desired. A lot actually. As a trader’s son he was used to rough sleeping quarters, but he was also used to being able to pick where he slept in order to get a bit of personal space. Not here. Here he had a narrow bunk and a small chest for clothes and possessions to call his own, without even a curtain to draw across his tiny sleeping space. He was glad he hadn’t brought too much with him; a few spare sets of clothes plus washing and shaving gear almost filled the chest. He had no idea where Dusk and River were going to sleep. On top of him in all probability.
Pushing his fingers through his hair and sighing, Lunthor sat down on the edge of his bed and tried to look on the bright side. He had been Searched. He was a Candidate. In a few weeks, he might be a dragonrider. A high pitched chattering prompted him to look up and smile; his flits had finally stopped buzzing around the dragons and come to join him. He was glad he had them even if they were demanding and would make things even more cramped. They were a very real, lively, uplifting piece of home. He had friends here already, and that made life better.
“I’m afraid we find ourselves cramped together with other Candidates like pactails in a net,” he told the pair of blues as they flitted about investigating the large room. “You two will have to fight over who gets to sleep where on the bed,” he went on as Dusk concluded his investigation and flew over to land on the bunk. “I don’t doubt you’ll attempt to oust me to get comfortable,” he grumbled fondly as he stroked the dark blue flit’s head. Dusk looked up at him with whirling blue eyes and gave a contented cheep. Well, at least somebody was happy enough with the look of their living arrangements. River would probably be satisfied too, once he’d finished poking his nose into every available crevice. “Don’t you go stealing anything now you little horror,” he ordered the excitable flit sternly as he zoomed by on his way to the other side of the room. “Last thing I need to do is introduce myself to my fellow Candidates by returning something you’ve made off with.” River gave an unrepentant squeak, and Lunthor sighed again. “Ah well,” he murmured, “I suppose it’s as good an ice breaker as any really.”
Predictably, only a few moments later, River appeared in the air before him clutching a copper bangle in his forefeet. Lunthor sighed and relieved him of it; telling the daft creature to return what he had taken never met with any success. “You’re a terror,” he told the flit as he slipped the bangle onto his wrist, “I do hope whoever you took this from is a reasonable sort or I’ll end up with my face rearranged before I can hand it back and explain.” What was he supposed to do now anyway? He’d been told that somebody would be coming to find him to take him down to the dining hall but as yet there was no sign of them, and he’d been here long enough to neatly unpack everything and subsequently get bored. Not that getting bored took him very long.
Grumbling quietly to himself, Lunthor opened up the small wooden chest beside his bed and rummaged through until he found a small rag-ball. “Go on then,” he tossed it up in the air to catch River’s attention, “go fetch.” With these words, he hurled the ball away and watched his little friend streak over the ranks of beds after it. The agile flit caught it easily in mid air and pulled off a couple of neat loop-the-loops before wheeling about and flying back with the ball. Cheeping excitedly, he passed it back to Lunthor, who threw it again before looking down at Dusk, who was now dozing, with a sigh. “Between the two of you,” he informed the lazy creature, “you’d have relatively normal energy levels.” Dusk opened one eye to regard him steadily for a few moments before yawing massively and closing it again.
The game of fetch soon grew as dull as simply sitting around was, but seen as it was no worse Lunthor kept it up; River was enjoying himself, and if the blue managed to wear himself out he might be less of a pain later on. At least the waiting was giving him time to think, to compose himself after the flurry of activity that had been his day up until now. This morning he’d been just a trader’s boy, a middle son at that. Then the tiny hold they’d come to trade at had had become a frantic whirl as a green dragon appeared in the skies; a Search rider. He had been part of the small crowd of young people standing rigid as the dragon’s eyes ran over them, hoping against hope that he would be chosen. He was chosen, he alone. He’d got some pretty dirty looks for that, even from those of his siblings and cousins who were the right age. He hadn’t cared, they might as well not have existed while he ran to throw together his possessions. They’d all calmed down by the time he was ready to leave though and he’d parted with everyone on good terms...
That reminded him; he needed to send word to his family that he was well. Taking the ball away from River, who made a high-pitched noise of disappointment, he rummaged in the chest again and came out with a small piece of slate and chalk. ‘Dear all,’ he scribbled ‘arrived safe, waiting in dorm for further instructions. Will send next note soon.’ The last few words were cramped in tightly but still just about legible. “Here,” he held the little piece of slate out to River, who took it and increased the speed of his wingbeats to compensate for the weight. “Take this to the caravan,” he pictured the place his family was staying, and River cheeped confidently before vanishing between. Well that was that sorted then. And now he was bored again. Lunthor drummed his fingers irritably on the side of his bed and glared at the entrance to the dormitory.
After a few moments, he sprung to his feet and began to pace down the row of bunks; perhaps he would be able to tell something about his fellow Candidates from them. After only a few beds, he realised he was to be disappointed; all of them were neatly made, and all the chests were closed. There was nothing to tell the bunks apart other than the number stamped on the chests beside them. He had never imagined that anything in a Weyr could be so dull. River’s find of the copper bangle seemed more incredible the further he walked; there was simply nothing left lying around at all. There were a few cracks in the floor now and again, he supposed it must have been wedged into one of those. How was he supposed to live in a dreary place like this until the eggs hatched? Cursing softly under his breath, Lunthor turned around and stalked back to his bunk. He only recognized it because Dusk was asleep on it. Muttering to himself, he glared at the top of the wooden chest that held his worldly possessions and tried to burn the number on it into his mind. Forty two, forty two, forty two. Right, done. Now what?
Lacking anything else to do, he lay down on his bed and began to stroke Dusk’s flank. The contented crooning the flit made combined with the soft smooth feel of his skin went some way to cooling Lunthor’s temper. Someone would turn up for him in the end, and when they did he wasn’t going to be found stomping around like a petulant child. A few moments later, River reappeared with a happy squeak and a return note. Lunthor took it and scanned the message. ‘Good. All well here, all very proud, look forward to hearing from you.’ Brief and to the point; he felt better for receiving it. Sighing wearily, he slipped the slate under his pillow and settled back down as River curled up beside his brother. Given he had nothing better to do for the time being, he supposed he might as well follow his friends’ example. Shifting back on the bed slightly to give his flits some more space, Lunthor closed his eyes and proceeded to doze.
*****
A cheep from River awoke him, and Lunthor sat up abruptly to see a stocky boy of about his own age hovering uncertainly beside his bunk. River had sat up to regard the newcomer with interest, and the dark-skinned youth seemed to be debating whether or not to reach down and stroke the cheerful flit. “He’d appreciate some attention,” Lunthor said with a smile and he rubbed his face to awaken himself fully. “I’m Lunthor,” he went on, extending his hand in greeting, “glad to meet you.”
The black-haired boy beamed delightedly, reached down to tickle River under the chin with one hand and touched Lunthor’s palm with the other. “Glad to meet you too. I’m Vannkain, I’m supposed to be taking you down to the dining hall... I hope you’ve not been waiting too long; I got held up with some chores.”
“I’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting,” Lunthor replied with an amiable chuckle, “I was asleep, and now I’m famished. Shall we go?” There was something he immediately liked about the other boy’s warm, open face. Perhaps it was just an instinctive wish to make friends as fast as he could that drew him to that kind smile, but River seemed to approve of him and Dusk even bothered to open one eye and greet him with a sleepy cheep.
“Of course... I like you bracelet by the way,” Vannkain complimented with another warm smile, “it looks just like on I used to have.”
Lunthor laughed and, sliding it off his wrist, passed it over as he got to his feet. “Probably is yours,” he explained as River alighted on his shoulder, “this little terror found it somewhere in here when we arrived.”
Vannkain grinned and pushed it back. “Probably was mine then,” he said with a nod, “I did lose it last time I was a Candidate. You keep it though; it can be a welcome present.”
Well, that was a nice surprise. Lunthor smiled and put the bangle back on. Simple though it was, it was an attractive piece and he’d always been a sucker for presents of any kind. “Thank you Vannkain,” he said as they exited the dormitory, “I shall have to find something for you as well.”
Vannkain grinned and gave a slight shake of his head. “Just let me play with your flits sometimes and I’ll be happy; I’ve always loved flits.”
Lunthor snorted and rolled his eyes. “If you would, believe me, you’d be doing me a favour. This beast,” he jerked his head the the flit on his shoulder, “River’s his name, and like a river he never stops. Having somebody else to play with will please him no end, and might keep him from driving me to distraction.”
“I’d be happy to play with him,” the other boy replied enthusiastically, “anytime he wants to... Well, so long as I’m not doing chores. Possibly even if I am doing chores actually,” he admitted with a grin, “I’m sure I can juggle whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing and keeping him happy.”
Lunthor chuckled and grinned back. “I’m sure you’ll manage somehow Vannkain.”
“Please! Just call me Kain, the rest is such a mouthful,” Kain grinned. “One of the things I’d love most about being a rider would be shortening my name.”
“Well, Kain then,” Lunthor smiled, “and you can just call me Lun if you like.” As they walked on together, Lunthor felt himself feeling gradually more relaxed. He hadn’t been aware of the tension until it began to fade away. Glancing over at Kain, he smiled to himself again; the black-haired boy was watching River clean his wings in fascination. It was easy to relax, Lunthor supposed as he fingered his new bangle, when you’d found a good friend so quickly.
The morning after D’los’ death...
Walking towards the serving hatch was... Indescribable. Almost every morning for the last nine turns he’d come here and now... and now it was different. Distant. He felt cold, and detached form the world around him. Nothing here had changed. Nothing significant anyway, so far as most were concerned. Almost every morning for the last nine turns he’d come here in company, and now he was alone. It was too big a thing to get his head around, too big a thing to have left the world unchanged. People were laughing with their friends, joking and shoving. Probably only a couple of them knew a rider had finally followed his dragon into death the previous night.
L’thor collected his usual breakfast in a daze. Porridge. Klah. Some fruit. A good start to the day. Balancing the plate, bowl and mug awkwardly, he turned to look for somewhere to sit. It seemed like an impossibly difficult decision. Not too many people were here yet so there was a lot of space... He saw a few friends, but they hadn’t spotted him yet and he made no effort to make himself conspicuous. He’d have to tell them. How could he tell them? None of them had really expected D’los to make it, but that didn’t mean he knew how he’d even begin breaking the news to them. He was usually so eloquent but now... now all words had abandoned him.
Eventually he decided on a spot; there was an almost empty bench over in one corner where he could sit alone. The idea of being in company was unbearable as yet. He had to... he had to decide what to say when someone asked him what was wrong. They would ask, anyone who knew him would ask as soon as they saw him. He’d seen his face in the mirror. Deathly pallid, deep dark circles under his eyes, which lacked their usual spark. He had to think of what to say, of how to explain. For now though, he just needed to eat his breakfast. He wasn’t hungry, he didn’t want it, but Raith wouldn’t let him be if he didn’t eat everything he’d taken. L’thor set off towards the quiet corner with legs of stone. Every step was a huge effort. Even every breath was a trial. It felt as though something was pressing down on his shoulders, clamping his chest tight.
As he walked, voices washed over him like waves.
“...dice tonight?”
“Yea, well she shouldn’t have said...”
“You’re awful!”
“Yea, finally snuffed it, I was at the infirmary last night to visit M’zan.”
L’thor came to an abrupt halt and turned to stare at the man who had spoken. A bronze rider, unranked by his shoulder knots. Had he really just...
“Shame about the brown,” the man went on, taking a sip of klah, “but at least the other was only a green.”
He wasn’t aware of dropping his breakfast, only of the clatter it made with it struck the stone floor. “What did you just say?” Only a green. He could feel the blood draining from his face. If he had been pallid before, he would be stark white now. Only a green.
The bronze rider turned around to regard him, suddenly looking rather flustered. “Oh! It’s you. You were his weyrmate... well, I only meant to say that a green is more expendable than a brown. You must admit that at least. Better a brown and a green gone than two browns.”
The world receded away from him with those words. Nothing existed anymore expect that man. That rider. That filth. “Get up.” Better a green dead than anything else. How could anyone think that, let alone say it? He hadn’t known D’los. He had no right to say anything at all on the matter, let alone to belittle the death of the man and his dragon. The bronze rider hadn’t moved. “I said get up.”
The rider just scowled. “Why should I?” he demanded. “I’m having my breakfast here. Life goes on, green rider, and you’d be well advised not to take a tone like that with a bronze rider.”
“Only a green rider!” He was shouting now and he knew it, didn’t care. This would not be suffered. That man would pay. “Get up and I’ll show you what a mere green rider can do!” He would tear him limb from limb. D’los was dead, and all that man could say was at least he’d only been a green rider. That man had never heard D’los laugh, had never seen his tender smile as he oiled his dragon, had never watched his face still and peaceful in sleep. He had no idea the kind of man whose death he had just passed off as insignificant when compared to the loss of a brown.
The bronze rider growled and got to his feet; he and L’thor were of a height, but he was far more muscular. “Just don’t start with me green rider,” he growled, “I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you.”
L’thor forgot that he didn’t know how to fight. Forgot that he was slender. Forgot that he was weak from three sleepless nights in a row and not having eaten since the previous morning. As the other early breakfasters watched, he gave an inhuman scream and launched himself at the bronze rider. He got a good few blows in, but the other man hardly seemed to notice them. The first strike in return was like a hammer against his temple. He ignored it. He ignored Raith’s shout inside his head. He ignored the next blow that split his lip, several against his chest, his stomach... And then another one cracked against his skull, and he stumbled. A kick sent him sprawling, and then he was kicked again, and again. He struggled to stand again, but every time he nearly got to his knees he was knocked down again. He had to show him. He had to prove what greens were worth. D’los. How dare anyone speak like that about D’los? He wouldn’t let it go unpunished. D’los was dead!
Then the bronze rider’s boot connected with his head, and the world became a lot less clear. He was aware of people shouting, some shouting his name. Then there was high pitched screeching, and the bronze rider yelling in pain and anger. Dusk and River had come to rescue him. Then a dragon roared, and the dining hall went still, allowing a furious female voice to shout... to shout... something. He’d failed. He’d proved nothing and... D’los was dead. D’los. He was alone. Darkness descended, sound faded, and he knew no more.
Around half a turn after D’los’ death...
The morning air was warm already but a gentle breeze kept it pleasant, and promised to prevent the day from becoming too stifling. He sat on the ledge, legs dangling into the void, and sipped contentedly at his cup of klah as he watched the sun rise. It was... well, it was a sunrise; lovely of course, he always enjoyed them, but he’d never been the sort to sigh and wax poetic about such things. D’los had been like that and this morning, for the first time, he could think about his weyrmate without pain. It was a beautiful morning, promising to be a beautiful day and today he would try to think of it poetically. It was orange and it was gold and it was red, and there would never be another one quite like it.
“Morning,” yawned a sleepy voice from behind him, and a moment later V’kain sat down beside him. “You’re up early even for you,” he commented as he sipped his klah.
L’thor smile over at his friend and shrugged. “Yes, I felt like watching the sun come up today. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He was a little glad that he had though; V’kain’s company was always welcome and today he felt especially like being around people he cared about.
V’kain stifled another yawn and shook his head. “Not at all, don’t worry about it... Any particular reason you wanted to watch this morning?”
“Well yes,” L’thor smirked and took another sip of Klah, “it’s my birthing day; I’m twenty five now. I like to watch the sun rise on my birthing day when I can.” He’d done it every year since he’d been about six turns old, but of course this was the first turn V’kain had lived with him so he didn’t know that... Last turn, and for eight turns before that he had watched with D’los. He wouldn’t do that ever again, but it was alright. He wasn’t alone by any stretch of the imagination, and this morning he felt perfectly like himself again. Life went on, and he planned to go with it rather than tormenting himself with longings for the past.
“Oh! It is?” V’kain gaped like a fish before smacking his hand against his forehead. “Shards; it is and everything! I completely forgot... I’ll go out with Xerrineth to Ista Hold later and find you a nice present, I swear.”
“How kind of you,” L’thor chuckled, “but you needn’t get me anything fancy; I consider it a present that you hauled your lazy backside out of bed to come and sit with me in the first place.” V’kain would get him something nice though, he was like that; hardly ever spent a mark on himself but loved to treat his friends at the slightest opportunity.
V’kain grinned at his good-natured jibe and clapped him companionably on the shoulder. “Okay, so this can be your birthing day gift, and whatever I get you can be an apology gift for forgetting to get you a gift, okay?”
L’thor smiled over at his friend and gave the slightest of nods. “If you say so Kain, if you say so.” Silence fell between them then, and L’thor turned his face back to the warmth of the rising sun. I think it’s time to let him go, don’t you Raith? he asked of his dragon as he let out a soft sigh of contentment.
On her ledge the green dragon stirred slightly and opened one contentedly blue eye. Yes, she said softly, I think it is time. Today will always be a good day in the turn for a glorious new beginning.
L’thor’s smile softened a little at the subtle compliment and raised his mug to the sun. “To the future,” hail and farewell, my beloved.
