S'nya acknowledged the Wingleader's orders by way of Esperaccieth, then looked over at M'chael, mounted on his own beast. M'chael nodded at him, and the two of them blinked between in perfect unison, emerging back into the sunlight on a small ridge, halfway down the mountain slope between Weyr and Hold. It offered both a small amount of cover, should they need it, and an excellent vantage over the entire valley. The two browns arranged themselves along the rock until they almost looked like small pieces of scree themselves, and then S'nya gave a quick wave as M'gan's Damocleth flashed by.
Two queens rising together, S'nya said, not really needing to complete the thought.
Have hope, Esperaccieth replied, steady as ever.
If it was anyone other than Denari... S'nya answered. They had been weyrlings at Denari Weyr, and it had been, ah, not good. Denari fought Thread like demons, but when a Weyr's leadership was poisonous, as Denari's clearly was, it filtered down and affected everyone. When Sh'ro and M'chael had offered to take him on as part of their Brown formation at Council Weyr, he'd barely hesitated.
Together we can handle anything Andurieth can think of, Esperaccieth told him.
Da, S'nya said, but he couldn't help thinking about Sh'ro, who had been the third part of their trio, who S'nya had though indestructible until that day they had flown a double Fall alongside Denari. The Weyrs were supposed to unite together against the common threat of Thread, but in reality, the politics between the Weyrleaders and their allied Holds made that unity more an ideal than a practice.
No-one could swear, when N'codemus's Andurieth had unexpectedly turned out of formation, forcing one of Council's bronzes right into the path of a sheet of Thread, that it had been intentional. When Sh'ro had noticed the danger and taken his own brown dragon between to shield the bronze, searing a clear path at the cost of his own life, that, however, had all-too-clearly been purposeful. S'nya, sweeping in too late to char out the rest of the patch of Thread, had seen only a glimpse of what what was left of him, under the mass of writhing Thread, in the seconds before the dragon had taken them both between for the last time, but it was not a sight he would soon forget.
At any rate, it is good to have a chance to act against him cleanly, S'nya said, letting a bit of savagery into his tone, and Esperaccieth below him growled low in his throat.
M'chael gave them an eloquent look, reminding them not to start the fight until an enemy was there, but S'nya could see his own Amoraccieth tensed and ready under him.
From where they were perched they were just close enough to the Hold to see the great shapes of the four dragons, and even as they watched, the gold leapt from the courtyard to the pen where Damocleth already waited. They watched as Boboth and Damocleth managed, somehow, to herd her away from the other mating flight, which Esperaccieth could feel ongoing already in the part of his mind that was bonded to his Weyr's queens. S'nya could feel the muscles trembling through him and the turmoil in his own emotions, the reaction to the queens' mating call, but he firmly pushed it away for both of them. Browns rarely rose for queens and almost never flew them, but no dragon could be completely unaffected by a mating flight near him. S'nya knew the faith which Eb'nezar had in them wasn't misplaced, though, and they managed to watch the dragons below almost dispassionately.
For a moment, he almost thought they would be unneeded. Boboth and Damocleth were working together to keep her focused on them, too distracted by foreplay to think about Archith's flight or notice Andurieth's increasing frustration. "I didn't know bronzes could work together like that in a mating flight," S'nya said.
M'chael let out a huff of breath, amused. "If a rider isn't really interested in winning her, he can keep his dragon detached enough to do all sorts of stuff. I never thought I'd see those two bronzes working together though. What we really need to keep an eye on is Andur-- Shards! Up!" he said, but S'nya was lifting off before he'd finished the word.
Below them, Andurieth had turned away from the mating flight and was heading straight for the mountains and Archith. S'nya caught a glimpse of Lascieth starting to follow, but he didn't have time to worry about that. Neither of their beasts, though strong, were particularly large for browns, and it would take both of them to have any hope of slowing down a bronze in a mating frenzy; if he made it over the mountains to join the other mating flight, it wouldn't matter; the Council bronzes would turn on the intruder in their midst and tear him to pieces. Take care of the bronze, and then worry about the queen, if she came.
Amoraccieth put himself right in Andurieth's way, screaming at him, and S'nya wished for one unworthy moment that they had brought firestone, watching as Andurieth reared up in the air almost casually and raked his claws down Amoraccieth's neck. The smaller brown let himself fall down out of Andurieth's reach, but S'nya was right there to take his place, Esperaccieth's claws reaching for the bronze's eyes as Andurieth lashed out to claw them in turn; but S'nya and his dragon danced out of the way at the last minute as Amoraccieth appeared behind him and dug his claws into the wing-muscles, in a vicious parody of a mating clasp.
Andurieth howled and twisted, shaking Amoraccieth loose with a sudden snap, and then stretching up, so lost in his rage that he bit at the shoulder joint of Amoraccieth's wing, his back claws shredding the brown skin and harness alike as he scrabbled for a disemboweling hold. S'nya and Esperaccieth flew at him, the dragon clawing down his neck in an attempt to make him let go, but he barely responded until Esperaccieth managed to shred down one panel of his wing, sending all of them tilting off-center. Andurieth howled again and dropped Amoraccieth, but S'nya shouted for his dragon to skip between just far enough. He blocked from his thoughts the split-second sight he'd had of M'chael and Amoraccieth falling toward the valley floor, one wing drooping useless; if Andurieth were allowed to disrupt the other mating flight, much worse would happed.
But just as they were about to try another sortie against the great bronze, Esperaccieth peeled away. What-- S'nya said, but he saw even as his dragon told him, Damocleth is here. He says he'll handle the bronze, we should save Amoraccieth, and they were flashing between to directly below the other brown, Esperaccieth spreading his own wings to support Ammoraccieth's and guiding them both slowly to a wobbly but safe landing over some poor farmer's field, as S'nya lay flat in his harness and tried to keep them all calm and directed.
As they landed the older bronze slid gently off of Esperaccieth's back, and S'nya was relieved to see that he was able to manage that much of the landing more or less on his own. He dismounted as soon as he could and ran for M'chael, who was hanging by one hand from a broken strap of harness. S'nya caught him and eased him to the ground, taking inventory as he did. The shoulder he'd been hanging from was dislocated, but that was the least of it: his other side, to match his dragon's, was slashed to the bone in places, a wide gash that started at his shoulder and carried down to his thigh muscle, baring a couple of ribs along the way. S'nya cursed between his teeth, but it looked like he had lucked out, for certain values of the term, and no arteries were hit.
He had M'chael brace against the dragon's shoulder as he popped the shoulder joint back in. "Stop worrying about me, I'll live," M'chael told him as soon as he had his breath back afterward. "Look to Amoraccieth."
"Amoraccieth's wounds won't matter a damn if I let you die," S'nya informed him, but as soon as M'chael had one more-or-less usable arm, he handed him a wad of bandages and his emergency numbweed salve and turned to the dragon instead.
Amoraccieth was looking at him calmly, as usual, but the wing was certainly broken high up in the first joint, the bone uncleanly snapped. The wing membrane might or might not be salvageable, and the skin over his side, but he, too, looked likely to live, if they could get a dragonhealer here within the hour, as S'nya informed his rider as soon as he could.
"Good," M'chael said, with that sort of dreamy surety that came with shock. "Hey, S'nya. Look up."
S'nya followed his gaze automatically. He saw, to one side, a gold and bronze falling through the sky in a mating clasp, insensate to everything around them: Boboth and Lascieth, but they had height enough and more to pull themselves out of it with no danger. A quarter of the sky away, two bronzes flew together in a terrible parody, but even as he watched, Damocleth's jaws grasped Andurieth's neck right behind the skull, effectively immobilizing his head, while he spread the rest of his body across him and started to slowly force him down. Andurieth thrashed and struggled, and for a moment it looked as if he would escape, but another bronze suddenly appeared from between below him, joining forces with Damocleth, and Andurieth, finally realizing he was outmatched, went limp and allowed himself to be led to earth.
"Is that Darvazeth?" S'nya asked, squinting. "What's R'shid doing back already?"
"It's generally better not to ask," M'chael said. "But it looks like all's well that ends well."
S'nya scowled at him. "You two with half of your blood and ichor soaking into this nice farmer's crop is not all's well or ends well," he told M'chael severely. "And as it looks like the mating flights are done, I'm going to head back to the Weyr and get you some healers. Oh shards," he realized suddenly. "I'm going to have to explain to Charity."
"Don't worry about it," M'chael said, his head rolling back against his dragon as he grinned slightly, still loopy with the shock. "She'll figure out some way to blame it all on H'ry. It's a talent of hers."
Above them, in the slanting sunlight, a queen and bronze fire lizard wandered by on business of their own.
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timeasmymeasure
Pern crossover: Queens High (second 4/5)
Date: 2011-02-24 01:30 am (UTC)Warnings still in play.
***
S'nya acknowledged the Wingleader's orders by way of Esperaccieth, then looked over at M'chael, mounted on his own beast. M'chael nodded at him, and the two of them blinked between in perfect unison, emerging back into the sunlight on a small ridge, halfway down the mountain slope between Weyr and Hold. It offered both a small amount of cover, should they need it, and an excellent vantage over the entire valley. The two browns arranged themselves along the rock until they almost looked like small pieces of scree themselves, and then S'nya gave a quick wave as M'gan's Damocleth flashed by.
Two queens rising together, S'nya said, not really needing to complete the thought.
Have hope, Esperaccieth replied, steady as ever.
If it was anyone other than Denari... S'nya answered. They had been weyrlings at Denari Weyr, and it had been, ah, not good. Denari fought Thread like demons, but when a Weyr's leadership was poisonous, as Denari's clearly was, it filtered down and affected everyone. When Sh'ro and M'chael had offered to take him on as part of their Brown formation at Council Weyr, he'd barely hesitated.
Together we can handle anything Andurieth can think of, Esperaccieth told him.
Da, S'nya said, but he couldn't help thinking about Sh'ro, who had been the third part of their trio, who S'nya had though indestructible until that day they had flown a double Fall alongside Denari. The Weyrs were supposed to unite together against the common threat of Thread, but in reality, the politics between the Weyrleaders and their allied Holds made that unity more an ideal than a practice.
No-one could swear, when N'codemus's Andurieth had unexpectedly turned out of formation, forcing one of Council's bronzes right into the path of a sheet of Thread, that it had been intentional. When Sh'ro had noticed the danger and taken his own brown dragon between to shield the bronze, searing a clear path at the cost of his own life, that, however, had all-too-clearly been purposeful. S'nya, sweeping in too late to char out the rest of the patch of Thread, had seen only a glimpse of what what was left of him, under the mass of writhing Thread, in the seconds before the dragon had taken them both between for the last time, but it was not a sight he would soon forget.
At any rate, it is good to have a chance to act against him cleanly, S'nya said, letting a bit of savagery into his tone, and Esperaccieth below him growled low in his throat.
M'chael gave them an eloquent look, reminding them not to start the fight until an enemy was there, but S'nya could see his own Amoraccieth tensed and ready under him.
From where they were perched they were just close enough to the Hold to see the great shapes of the four dragons, and even as they watched, the gold leapt from the courtyard to the pen where Damocleth already waited. They watched as Boboth and Damocleth managed, somehow, to herd her away from the other mating flight, which Esperaccieth could feel ongoing already in the part of his mind that was bonded to his Weyr's queens. S'nya could feel the muscles trembling through him and the turmoil in his own emotions, the reaction to the queens' mating call, but he firmly pushed it away for both of them. Browns rarely rose for queens and almost never flew them, but no dragon could be completely unaffected by a mating flight near him. S'nya knew the faith which Eb'nezar had in them wasn't misplaced, though, and they managed to watch the dragons below almost dispassionately.
For a moment, he almost thought they would be unneeded. Boboth and Damocleth were working together to keep her focused on them, too distracted by foreplay to think about Archith's flight or notice Andurieth's increasing frustration. "I didn't know bronzes could work together like that in a mating flight," S'nya said.
M'chael let out a huff of breath, amused. "If a rider isn't really interested in winning her, he can keep his dragon detached enough to do all sorts of stuff. I never thought I'd see those two bronzes working together though. What we really need to keep an eye on is Andur-- Shards! Up!" he said, but S'nya was lifting off before he'd finished the word.
Below them, Andurieth had turned away from the mating flight and was heading straight for the mountains and Archith. S'nya caught a glimpse of Lascieth starting to follow, but he didn't have time to worry about that. Neither of their beasts, though strong, were particularly large for browns, and it would take both of them to have any hope of slowing down a bronze in a mating frenzy; if he made it over the mountains to join the other mating flight, it wouldn't matter; the Council bronzes would turn on the intruder in their midst and tear him to pieces. Take care of the bronze, and then worry about the queen, if she came.
Amoraccieth put himself right in Andurieth's way, screaming at him, and S'nya wished for one unworthy moment that they had brought firestone, watching as Andurieth reared up in the air almost casually and raked his claws down Amoraccieth's neck. The smaller brown let himself fall down out of Andurieth's reach, but S'nya was right there to take his place, Esperaccieth's claws reaching for the bronze's eyes as Andurieth lashed out to claw them in turn; but S'nya and his dragon danced out of the way at the last minute as Amoraccieth appeared behind him and dug his claws into the wing-muscles, in a vicious parody of a mating clasp.
Andurieth howled and twisted, shaking Amoraccieth loose with a sudden snap, and then stretching up, so lost in his rage that he bit at the shoulder joint of Amoraccieth's wing, his back claws shredding the brown skin and harness alike as he scrabbled for a disemboweling hold. S'nya and Esperaccieth flew at him, the dragon clawing down his neck in an attempt to make him let go, but he barely responded until Esperaccieth managed to shred down one panel of his wing, sending all of them tilting off-center. Andurieth howled again and dropped Amoraccieth, but S'nya shouted for his dragon to skip between just far enough. He blocked from his thoughts the split-second sight he'd had of M'chael and Amoraccieth falling toward the valley floor, one wing drooping useless; if Andurieth were allowed to disrupt the other mating flight, much worse would happed.
But just as they were about to try another sortie against the great bronze, Esperaccieth peeled away. What-- S'nya said, but he saw even as his dragon told him, Damocleth is here. He says he'll handle the bronze, we should save Amoraccieth, and they were flashing between to directly below the other brown, Esperaccieth spreading his own wings to support Ammoraccieth's and guiding them both slowly to a wobbly but safe landing over some poor farmer's field, as S'nya lay flat in his harness and tried to keep them all calm and directed.
As they landed the older bronze slid gently off of Esperaccieth's back, and S'nya was relieved to see that he was able to manage that much of the landing more or less on his own. He dismounted as soon as he could and ran for M'chael, who was hanging by one hand from a broken strap of harness. S'nya caught him and eased him to the ground, taking inventory as he did. The shoulder he'd been hanging from was dislocated, but that was the least of it: his other side, to match his dragon's, was slashed to the bone in places, a wide gash that started at his shoulder and carried down to his thigh muscle, baring a couple of ribs along the way. S'nya cursed between his teeth, but it looked like he had lucked out, for certain values of the term, and no arteries were hit.
He had M'chael brace against the dragon's shoulder as he popped the shoulder joint back in. "Stop worrying about me, I'll live," M'chael told him as soon as he had his breath back afterward. "Look to Amoraccieth."
"Amoraccieth's wounds won't matter a damn if I let you die," S'nya informed him, but as soon as M'chael had one more-or-less usable arm, he handed him a wad of bandages and his emergency numbweed salve and turned to the dragon instead.
Amoraccieth was looking at him calmly, as usual, but the wing was certainly broken high up in the first joint, the bone uncleanly snapped. The wing membrane might or might not be salvageable, and the skin over his side, but he, too, looked likely to live, if they could get a dragonhealer here within the hour, as S'nya informed his rider as soon as he could.
"Good," M'chael said, with that sort of dreamy surety that came with shock. "Hey, S'nya. Look up."
S'nya followed his gaze automatically. He saw, to one side, a gold and bronze falling through the sky in a mating clasp, insensate to everything around them: Boboth and Lascieth, but they had height enough and more to pull themselves out of it with no danger. A quarter of the sky away, two bronzes flew together in a terrible parody, but even as he watched, Damocleth's jaws grasped Andurieth's neck right behind the skull, effectively immobilizing his head, while he spread the rest of his body across him and started to slowly force him down. Andurieth thrashed and struggled, and for a moment it looked as if he would escape, but another bronze suddenly appeared from between below him, joining forces with Damocleth, and Andurieth, finally realizing he was outmatched, went limp and allowed himself to be led to earth.
"Is that Darvazeth?" S'nya asked, squinting. "What's R'shid doing back already?"
"It's generally better not to ask," M'chael said. "But it looks like all's well that ends well."
S'nya scowled at him. "You two with half of your blood and ichor soaking into this nice farmer's crop is not all's well or ends well," he told M'chael severely. "And as it looks like the mating flights are done, I'm going to head back to the Weyr and get you some healers. Oh shards," he realized suddenly. "I'm going to have to explain to Charity."
"Don't worry about it," M'chael said, his head rolling back against his dragon as he grinned slightly, still loopy with the shock. "She'll figure out some way to blame it all on H'ry. It's a talent of hers."
Above them, in the slanting sunlight, a queen and bronze fire lizard wandered by on business of their own.