Dragonheart

“You can pretend!” Fiona answered with a grin.

Talenth insisted once more on launching herself from her ledge and gliding down to the Bowl proper before trotting over to the weyrlings arrayed outside their barracks.

“Weyrwoman,” T’mar greeted her as she joined the group. “If you’d please drill with the younger group.”

“Can’t we have her with us?” J’gerd asked. The rest of the older weyrlings added their agreement.

“No,” T’mar told them firmly. “Talenth is of the same clutch as the youngsters; the drill is appropriate to her age.”

“But she’s bigger than any of them!” an older weyrling protested. “That’s because she’s a queen, dimglow!” F’jian snapped in response.

“Where would you like us?” Fiona asked.

“A queen’s position is either in front of a wing or in the middle of the wing,” T’mar told her. “Today, I’d like you in the middle so that you and your dragon can observe the others.

“But,” he continued, spreading his attention amongst all the younger weyrlings, “until you riders know your drill, your dragons will stand aside.” A chorus of groans rose from the younger weyrlings, but was silenced by T’mar’s order: “Form up!”

Fiona watched in surprise as the weyrlings started to line up in a large V formation until she heard a voice whisper loudly, “You’re supposed to be in the center!”

Fiona flushed and then rushed to find her position. At the front, F’jian craned his neck around at the formation, then called to T’mar, “Ready for drill!”

“Weyrwoman, you need to be farther back, in line with the second-to-last row,” T’mar called critically. Fiona scooted back quickly to the correct position.

“Very well,” T’mar said, seeming satisfied. “Now we will drill.” He took a deeper breath and ordered, “Wing, right wheel!”

Fiona was totally lost as the riders started moving forward and turning to the right. In moments she was completely outside the formation, scampering to get back.

“Halt!” T’mar bellowed. The group halted. “Weyrwoman?”

“I got lost,” Fiona said. “Sorry.”

“Perhaps you should watch some drill first,” T’mar replied, beckoning to her to join him. To the weyrlings, he called, “Reform!”

As he put the weyrlings through their drills, T’mar explained everything to Fiona, from the formations to the arm motions, to the timing. When they were done, he called out, “Halt! Reform in a V ahead.” To Fiona he said, “Now, Weyrwoman, are you ready to resume your education?”

Fiona took a deep breath and nodded. “I just hope my arms don’t get too sore.”

“If they don’t,” T’mar told her with a determined look, “let me know.” He smiled at her distraught look. “It’s your first day, your arms are certain to get sore.” She made a grim face, to which T’mar added, “Just remember: All eyes will be on you.”

Fiona nodded, shook her head to clear her mood, and smiled at the wingleader. “They always are!”

The drill was every bit as exhausting as T’mar had promised, but Fiona refused to admit it or ask for a break. It was only when the weyrlings themselves were grumbling loudly that T’mar finally relented.

“Okay, now get your dragons,” he told them, “and reform here.”

As Fiona sought out Talenth, T’mar told her in an undertone, “You’re to stand in front of your dragon.”

Fiona nodded and beckoned Talenth to follow her. As the weyrlings reformed, Fiona found her assigned spot and spent a few moments positioning Talenth.

This is fun!  Talenth exclaimed, eyes whirling green in pleasure.

And, as the werylings recommenced their drill, with their dragons following dutifully behind them, Fiona realized that it was  fun. For a while, anyway. They practiced the various maneuvers over and over again until even Talenth’s enthusiasm waned.

“Well done!” T’mar called finally. “You can all take a break. Be sure to get water for your dragons.” As he spotted some weyrlings heading to the barracks, he called out, “Walk  to the lake, do not get water from the barracks. You need to cool off muscles — yours and your dragons’.”

Fiona could see the sense in that as she trudged along with the others to the far end of the Bowl and the lake. The penned herdbeasts, afraid that they were on the menu, wailed and slunk away from the approaching dragons.

I’m not hungry,  Talenth said, snorting irritatedly at the herdbeasts.

They don’t know any better,  Fiona replied. When her stomach grumbled she added humorously, Maybe they realize that I am.

I could get you one,  Talenth offered.

I’ll eat in the kitchen,  Fiona assured her, patting her neck affectionately.

Without thinking about it, Fiona had Talenth wait to drink until all the other dragons had drunk their fill.

Manners,  she chided her dragon when Talenth complained to her. We set the example, we make sure that everyone else is fed — or watered — before us. That’s the mark of a leader.

Talenth absorbed Fiona’s words trustingly and ceased her grumbling. I’m a leader?

You’re a queen,  Fiona told her. Of course you are!

A leader!  Talenth glanced at the weyrlings ahead of her as they made their way back to the weyrling barracks. Shouldn’t I be in front, then?

No,  Fiona assured her, you’re fine where you are.

“Fiona!” a voice called from just outside the weyrling barracks. Fiona spotted Tajen striding toward her.

“Good day to you, Talenth,” he called as he approached. To Fiona he said, “I saw the drill today; you did well.” He glanced at Talenth. “I just wanted to check her over; I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Talenth was delighted to show off her wings and have Tajen run knowing hands over her legs, examining her all over.

“She’s growing well,” he declared when he was done. He nodded to Fiona, adding, “And you’ve done well in oiling her. I see no signs of flaky skin.”

“Xhinna helps,” Fiona felt obliged to explain.

“I’ve heard that she has taken to gliding from her ledge,” Tajen said. When Fiona nodded confirmation, he turned to the queen and said, “Are you ready to fly?”

Can I fly?  Talenth asked Fiona excitedly.

“She certainly wants to,” Fiona said.

“Well, I think if she gets on her perch and tries flapping her wings for a bit, she might extend her glide,” Tajen replied. But he shook his finger at Talenth and added warningly, “But no more than a few beats, then glide back down. I don’t want you straining yourself; you could damage your muscles.”

Can I do it now?  Talenth begged.

“Can we try now?” Fiona asked.

Tajen pursed his lips consideringly, then shrugged. “Only once, because both of you have had enough exercise this morning.”

I can fly!  Talenth exclaimed, prancing back to her weyr. Fiona and Tajen followed quickly behind her and stood below the ledge to watch as she climbed up, crawled into her weyr, turned, and raced to the edge, wings flared and ready for flight.

As she leapt off, she gave her wings one beat and bugled excitedly as she rose into the air. Another beat and then — “Hey, that’s too high!” Fiona cried in alarm.

Sorry!  Talenth responded, sounding not the least bit contrite.

Glide on back down!  Fiona ordered, nervously eyeing the height to which Talenth had climbed. With her excitement unabated, Talenth leveled her wings and glided slowly back down to the ground, landing easily several hundred meters across the Bowl.

Did you see?  Talenth called. I flew! I really flew!

Yes, you did,  Fiona agreed, her mental voice full of pride. You flew