Dragonheart

Thread falls

Dragons rise.

Dragons flame,

Thread dies.

FortWeyr , Morning, AL 508.1.13

“Wake up, Xhinna, wake up!” Fiona’s excited voice startled Xhinna from her groggy slumber. “Thread falls today!”

Xhinna was up and out of the bed in a trice, her exhaustion forgotten.

“The bath’s all yours,” Fiona told her. “I’ve already been.”

Xhinna paused on her way to the baths, wondering if Fiona could restrain her excitement long enough to wait for her before heading to breakfast. Clearly today was one of those good days when Fiona’s energy was at its fullest.

“I’m going to check on the Weryleaders,” Fiona said, turning decisively toward Talenth’s weyr. “Be ready when I come back?”

“Sure,” Xhinna murmured, her voice still morning-hoarse.

Thread! Xhinna thought as she stripped and lowered herself into the warm waters of the bathing pool. She had never thought that she would be eager for Thread to come, but she, like Fiona and everyone else in the Weyr, saw the arrival of Thread — of something dragons and riders could see,  could flame, could destroy — as a relief from all the horror of the sickness that had claimed eighteen more dragons in the last nine days. At least thirty more were now sick.

More galling to the spirits of the riders and weyrfolk of Fort Weyr was the fact that Benden, Telgar, and Ista Weyrs had all already experienced their first Threadfalls. Xhinna and the other weyrfolk were all convinced that, as the oldest Weyr, the honor of the first Threadfall of the Third Pass should rightly have gone to Fort. It’s really a silly notion, she told herself as she rubbed off the night’s dirt in the warm waters.

After her bath, she dried herself as best she could, then brushed her teeth and returned to the living quarters to dress quickly.

Fiona burst into the room just then. “We’re to meet in the Dining Cavern for breakfast,” she blurted and, just as quickly, sprinted out again.

Quickening her pace, Xhinna finished tying on her shoes and sprinted out of their rooms, through Talenth’s weyr, and, with a flying leap that secretly thrilled her, off the ledge and into the Weyr Bowl behind.

“Careful! You don’t want to be the first casualty of the day!” Cisca called from behind her.

Xhinna waved in agreement but kept up her pace, hoping — and failing — to close the distance to Fiona with her shorter legs.

At least, Xhinna told herself as she arrived, gasping, at the entrance to the Dining Cavern and spotted Fiona beckoning to her eagerly, she’s saved me a place.

As Xhinna slid in gratefully beside Fiona, another person sat opposite her: H’nez. The bronze rider cast a dismissive glance her way, murmured, “Weyrwoman” to Fiona, and reached for the klah.

Fiona intercepted his reach, pulling the pitcher out of his way. “Let me pour for you, wingleader,” she offered politely.

“It’s flightleader,” H’nez responded, raising his mug. “I lead a Flight this day.”

“I’m sure you’ll do well,” Fiona said.

“And who would doubt it?” H’nez demanded.

Flustered, Fiona could think of nothing to say in response and turned to Xhinna instead. “Would you like some, too?”

Xhinna noticed the angry look H’nez cast in her direction, as though it had been she  who had cast doubts upon his prowess, and ducked her head, causing Fiona to miss her mug. The spill was minor and quickly mopped up, but Xhinna could feel her cheeks burning with shame.

“Good morning, Flightleader!” a cheerful voice called from the entrance. Xhinna recognized Tajen and was grateful when the exrider joined them at their table and occupied H’nez in conversation while she hastily ate.

“Slow down,” Fiona chided her. “You’ll need a good meal today.”

“And a strong stomach,” H’nez growled from across the table. “After what happened to Benden, I’m sure there’ll be a lot of injured for you to sew up.”

“H’nez!” Tajen protested. “That is no way to talk before a Fall.” The bronze rider’s mouth twitched into a frown and he lowered his eyes. “None of them will be in my wing, of course.”

“Pity about the rest of your Flight,” Xhinna snapped tartly and then flushed in embarrassment at her words. Instantly, contrite, she said, “I’m sorry, my lord, my nerves got the better of me.”

“As did mine,” H’nez replied, his voice suddenly under control. Xhinna was surprised to see him regarding her reflectively. “Please forgive me, I think I am more excited than I’d realized.”

“Nothing to forgive,” Tajen said to both of them. “Let us all forget this moment.”

“We’ve a Fall coming,” Fiona added by way of agreement. She rose and gestured for Xhinna to follow, saying to H’nez, “Good flying, dragonrider!”

As they made their way out of the Dining Cavern, Fiona spotted Cisca beckoning to her. Certain that the Weyrwoman had heard the entire exchange and fearful of Cisca’s ire, Fiona made her way reluctantly over to the Weyrleader’s table.

She was right. “I look to you to keep tempers even, not frayed,” Cisca chided her. Then she glanced over at H’nez and frowned, adding, “But I think in this instance, he needed someone to snap at.” She gave Xhinna a saturnine look. “And you  held your own.”

“I was wrong,” Xhinna replied glumly.

“Yes, you were,” Cisca agreed. “And honest enough to admit it, which forced a bronze rider to examine his own actions.” Xhinna’s brows furrowed as she considered this. With a chuckle, Cisca added, “Now you are beginning to understand politics.”

“Fly well!” Cisca called out later in the Weyr Bowl as K’lior mounted his bronze dragon. K’lior waved in acknowledgment and then Rineth leapt into the sky, followed immediately by P’der’s brown Leranth and the other dragons of the Weyrleader’s wing.

Farther in the distance, T’mar’s wing and H’nez’s wing lofted into the sky. Fiona’s heart leapt in her throat as she waved to the dragonriders, wondering which of them would come back. She hoped T’mar would. Nervously she glanced toward Cisca, wondering if the Weyrwoman had noticed her look, and was surprised to discover an expression of fear and sorrow on Cisca’s face.

“Weyrwoman?” Xhinna said from beside Fiona, obviously seeing the same thing.

Cisca forced herself into a smile and dabbed her eyes quickly before straightening once more. “Don’t tell anyone!”

“What, that you’re human?” Xhinna asked impetuously.

“I’m the Weyrwoman,” Cisca declared. “Everyone looks to me for leadership.”

“You’re still human, my lady,” Xhinna told her stubbornly.

“It’s good to set the example,” Fiona added in agreement, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t show your true feelings to me.”

“Or me,” Xhinna added. “I’ll keep your secrets.”

Cisca cocked her head at the younger girl consideringly, then nodded, saying, “Yes, you will, won’t you?”

Xhinna nodded, then turned to the now-empty Bowl. “And there is no one in this Weyr who isn’t worried about every dragonrider.”

“Yes,” Cisca agreed, her eyes scanning the empty skies above the Weyr. In the distance, near the Star Stones, she could see the watchdragon on his solitary patrol. She sketched a salute toward the rider and smiled when the dragon dipped its head in response. She turned back to the others. “Now, we  need to get ready.”

An hour later, Fiona and Xhinna struggled with the last of the heavy trestle tables as the first casualty