[search] [hatchling] [weyrling] [adult] [Falas Weyr]

Iolan smiled at the girls around him. It was a Gather, and they always flocked around him at Gathers. Well, they mostly always flocked around him anytime, he was just an attractive guy, and he encouraged them. He prided himself in his ability with females. Not even his close friend Paris could do as well as he with them. And standing right in front of Iolan with the others, Heriva, a dazzling beauty that Paris had been after for quite some time.
    "Heriva, may I have this dance?" Just like that, he had the beautiful blonde girl entwined in his arms, spinning across the floor to the music. She danced perfectly and gracefully. Iolan could see why Paris chased after her.
    "How are things in the nursery?" He inquired. Heriva took care of the holdbrats, a skill Iolan was amazed at, since he himself could not stand children.
    "Great." She replied. "Little Targil went right to sleep today. What about you?" Iolan smiled, eager to impress her with tales of his daily doings. He worked in the fields at tasks dubbed for strong men to do, with Iolan definantly qualified as.
    The conversation lasted for a little while as they moved further and further away from the center of the dance floor, and towards the hallway. Iolan smiled. A few more hours, and he would have her in his chambers.

     "This will be entertaining." Paris chuckled, watching the figure of a green dragon appear in the sky. His cousin would be coming today to see her dying mother, and Paris wanted to greet her. She had been born at Cold Rocks Hold, Iolan remembered her, though vaguely. She was pretty, but somewhat shy and easily won, and had left a few years ago due to Paris, only a few years older than her.
    Iolan laughed. She was a dragonrider now, not one he would expect to become that, but there it was. But she would probably not be grateful to have Paris and Iolan be the ones to greet her. It would be interesting.
    "So." Paris said, diverting his eyes from the circling dragon. "Did you have fun with Heriva last night?"
    "Yes." Iolan grinned broadly, recalling the sweet girl. "You said she was difficult, but she didn't seem so at all. You just have to know how to manage them."
   "Hoy, she comes. I bet she will be...eager..to greet her...much beloved cousin..after all these years." Paris fell into malicious laughter as he approached the now landing dragon. She wasn't a full sized dragon, but she was impressive. He couldn't see the shy holder girl he remembered riding such a creature, but she was.
  Amalasa stepped down from her dragon's neck, dressed in very revealing clothing, riding gear he supposed. She was beautiful. Her long, wavy brown hair shone in the sun and her pretty brown eyes seemed to smile at him. She had grown as pretty as Herivra, and from what he remembered of her, and thorough Paris's experience, she was twice, no three times, as easy as Heriva.
    "Hello Amalasa." Paris said, sweeping her a bow. "What a lovely dragon." The dragon roared and Amalasa glared at him.
    "Hello Paris, Iolan." Such a pretty face carried such a cold voice! But now that Iolan thought about it, he thought he could remember her being cold like that. "Where is mother?"
    "She's down in the caverns, very sick. It's best not to wake her up now, though she'll be glad you came. We can show you around you're old home if you want, you can get reacquainted--"
    "You listen to me Paris." Those soft brown eyes suddenly looked hard. "I am telling you right now, I will not put up with any of your nonsense. I am here strictly to see mother, not to see you, and if you stay away from me, it will be better for both of us."
    Paris laughed and put his arm about her waist. "Oh come now Ama-" He was on the ground before he realized that Amalasa had kicked him.
    "I am warning you." She replied, headed towards the entrance of the hold. Iolan's head was spinning. This was not the girl he remembered.
    Paris sat, rubbing his head and starring after her. Iolan couldn't help but laugh. "Well Paris, I think your cousin has finally gotten revenge."
    "Yeah, well..." Paris muttered as he got ot his feet. "I don't care about her anyway, let her see her mother die and then leave."
    "Hmm, I don't know, she's gotten rather pretty since she left. Perhaps she still is as easy as--" Iolan was interrupted by a loud roar from behind him that nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. The two men spun to face the Green Estukoth, not entirely grown yet, but still large enough.
    "You don't suppose she can understand us?" Paris whispered. Iolan shrugged. He sure hoped not.
    "Pardon us, Miss Estokoth, ma'am, but...we must be going. There is a lake nearby where you may bathe if you like...and..goodbye now!" Iolan walked faster and faster as he spoke until he and Paris found themselves running through the Hold gates.

   "Hey Amalasa, look, it's Paris! What are you going to do to him?" Iolan heard the jeers even before he turned the corner to see the girl and her harassers. She had a bronze firelizard perched on her shoulder and looked every inch a dragonrider, and a very mad one. She was trying to ignore the taunts, but without much success, as evidence by her reddening face.
    "Ah, Amalasa, forget Paris, come with me, I can show you a good time." One lad, Tyren, laid a hand on her shoulder. She shoved it off with such force that his arm snapped back.
    "Oh, we are little miss attitude, aren't we?" Amalasa turned to face him, smiling sweetly. "I'm sorry. Does my tone of voice offend? I do not mean to be offensive." She paused. "I mean to drive a point into your slowish head you deadglow!" She shoved the speaker away from her and hurried down the hall.
    "Hey, you didn't have to do that!" Someone called after her.
    "Shove between!" She called back over her shoulder. Iolan chuckled, watching her. She was quite pretty, and the way she moved was wonderful, but even he wouldn't dare go near her. This wasn't the first such incident, and already Amalasa and her dragon were getting a reputation around the hold. He pushed Amalasa from his mind though, as he crossed the hall. He had much more serious matters to attend to.
    "Son, I'm glad you came." His father said as he opened the door. "It shows that you have at least some commitment." Seriousness filled the older man's eyes, and disappointment. Without waiting for Iolan to say something, he went on. "Iolan you know as well as I do that everyone in the hold is expected to do their share of the work."
    "But--"
    "You haul heavy things whenever you are in sight of the women Iolan. That is all that you do! You are fully twenty one you know, and all men of the hold, all people of the hold, are expected to work! Every time I see you, you are with Paris or some woman, carrying on, laughing, doing anything but work!"
    "You can't expect me to work all of the time." Iolan replied. He knew this, everyone in the hold worked hard in these times of danger and thread, but his father was such a disciplinarian. Just because he was a workaholic didn't mean that everyone else should be too, though his father seemed to think that. He was all ready disappointed in his youngest son for not going off to pursue a craft as all his brothers had. "Just a Joe average holder boy chasing after every women he can find." His father often described him, as he was doing now, with such disappointment in his eyes. That would have bothered other people, but not Iolan. He sat through his father's lecture, promised to do better, decided that he might try to work harder for a little bit, and left to find Paris and Heriva. He didn't see his father watch him as he left down the hall and shake his head sadly.
    "He will just never learn." The graying man sighed.

    With a cup of wine in one hand, Iolan laughed heartily at the joke one of his cronies finished telling. It was a cold night, and thread was expected to fall, so everyone was ordered to stay inside the hold. Iolan was passing the time sitting by the fire with the other young men. The laughter was stopped when one of the men pointed out to Paris:
    "Look, there's the fair Heriva!" Laugher again as Heriva crossed the room and sat at a table with her own cup of klah. "My, she's a beauty. Been able to catch her eye yet Paris?" Paris smirked slightly.
    "I have!" Iolan exclaimed, taking another gulp of the wine.
    "Ooooh, Iolan's got one up on you Paris!"
    "Nah, Iolan, you're lying, there's no way!" A short fellow by the name of Reher snorted.
    Angrily Iolan took another gulp. "You calling me a liar? I tell you, I can charm any woman in the world. Any woman!" Another gulp of wine. It was a new kind of wine, imported from a different hold, and it was very good.
    "Any woman, you say? You willing to be that?" Reher replied.
    "Tell me who, and I'll bet you that in two days at the most I'll have her!" Reher, who had taken many gulps of this wine himself grew a malicious grin.
    "All right then. Iolan, I bet you your work for the week that you can't get her." He pointed across the room and burst into laughter. Iolan looked where the finger was pointing, right at Amalasa. Everyone was laughing, but Iolan took another gulp of wine.
    "A week's work then." He said, standing. Let them laugh. He strode across the large room to where Amalasa sat and sat down across from her, planting his wine cup on the table with a loud bang.
    "Hello Amalasa, how are you?" He asked, not noticing that his voice swayed slightly.
    "No better for your asking." She replied in that same cold voice. Didn't she realize she was making a fool of herself for behaving this way?
    "Hey now, that's nothing to say to a childhood friend! I was merely making pleasant conversation."
    "I would hardly call you a friend."
    "Why do you act so coldly to everyone? You were born here Amalasa, like it or not, this is your home."
    "Cold Rocks Hold is dead to me. I am just here because my mother wishes to see me. In a few sevendays, I will be gone, and I will forget completely about this place." She stood to leave. Iolan stood too.
    "You're gonna just leave so rudely?" He reached for her arm, but tottered unsteadily. Soon, he was on the floor and his cheek was stinging. He blinked, and spots filled his vision. Groaning, he struggled to stand, but his vision whirled, and he fell again. Getting up wasn't a hard thing to do at all, why couldn't he do it?
    Amalasa was standing over him.
    "Hey Paris, I'm doing good!" He called out in a very slurred voice. The world seemed to spin, and he was confused.

    Several hours later, he woke up in his room with a terrible headache. What had happened? How long had he been asleep? His mind struggled to recall the events. He had been with his friends, and then they had bet him that he couldn't win Amalasa...Amalasa? Where was she? He stood, ignoring the throbbing in his head, and left his chambers to the dark hallways of the hold at night.
    There wasn't anybody about, yet he felt a sense of excitement. Something was going on.
    He turned a corner and nearly walked into a frantic bronze firelizard. "Hoy, Deadglow." He whispered. It was the girl's firelizard. It squawked and fluttered noisily.
   "Amalasa might be looking for you." He said to the flitter, reaching out to catch it. It darted out of his grasp and took off down the hall. "Hey!" He called, chasing after it. She really shouldn't let her pet fly around like this after dark. It could wake someone up.
   He followed the firelizard through the corridors of the hold, winding upward until he came to the entrance itself. The gate was open, and he could see a very large green figure sillouheted against the dark sky. A smaller figure stood beside it. It was Amalasa and Estukoth! Was she leaving?
    "Amalasa!" He yelled, rushing toward the green. That sly little wench! Did she think she could just leave! He would loose his bet!
    She turned, looking  beautiful in the light. "Iolan!" She exclaimed. "Iolan you idiot what are you doing out here!?"
    "I could ask you the same thing." He said.
    "Did you not hear the warning!!!!! I guess you didn't...you were passed out drunk." She said bitterly, climbing onto her dragon's neck.
    "Where are you going!" He demanded. "Surely you won't be leaving Amalasa. Your mother still lives. And we haven't gotten a chance to get reacquainted!"
    "Iolan get inside!" She yelled. "Thread falls you idiot!" Only then did Iolan chance to really look up. He could see, somewhat far off into the distance, a line of dragons, flying in formation in the sky. Then he remembered, they had been ordered to stay inside...
    "Are you going to fight Thread?" He asked.
    "No, I'm just getting on Estukoth to go watch." Amalasa replied shortly. Up high like that on her dragon's neck, she seemed much larger. Or maybe it was the dragon that seemed to mirror her rider's mannerisms and attitude.
    "Estukoth is a weyrling, she can't fly thread!" Iolan called back.
    "Shows how much you know!" Amalasa shouted. "She can fully well fly thread, and if you don't get inside, you'll get fried by it!"
    Iolan smiled, even if he realized fully well the danger. He was beginning to see a way to win this bet.
    "And what would you do if I didn't go inside?"
    "Then I would think you were a pure blind fool!" She yelled back. Seeing the expression on his face, she let out an exasperated sigh.  "I don't have time for this! If you want to stay out here and get yourself killed by thread to impress me, then good! Get yourself killed!"  Estukoth spread her wings, a pretty impressive span, and took off. Iolan watched her fly, wondering if he should do this. It might help him win the bet, but it was also pure stupidity. Taking a deep breathe, he rushed across the fields outside of Cold Rocks Hold.
  You're crazy Iolan. He said to himself, but kept running, eyes glued to the sky. It was amazing to see the dragons anyway, huge and majestic, as they seared the thread from the sky. He wondered what Weyr they were from. Were they from  the same Weyr as Amalasa, or some other Weyr? What Weyr had she gone to anyway?  He watched the figure of Estukoth, a little smaller and younger than the other dragons, join a wing and begin flaming thread. It seems the other dragonriders didn't mind that a weyrling dragon was fighting in their wings. She flew at the back of the formation, not a high rank, but she still flew, and they seemed to treat her equally.
    Iolan shivered as a cold wind ruffled his hair. What was he doing out here! Thread was falling! But he couldn't take his eyes off of Estukoth, or the dragons...just a few more minutes, maybe she would see him...
    Deadglow appeared out of between again, right in front of him. Yes, she had seen him. But did she think sending her firelizard was going to stop him now? No indeed. He ran towards the line of dragons, who were also coming towards him, moving will the fall of the silver thread. Why oh why was he doing this? No bet was worth this! But he couldn't face the humiliation of losing. And perhaps the effect of that wine hadn't quite worn off yet. Deadglow chattered at him angrily and bit him on the ear a few times, but Iolan ignored it. This was strangely fun too, out during thread. Imagine what it would be like to be a dragonrider, and fight it!
    He could just make out Amalasa's face, and she looked very angry. Come to think of it, she wasn't the only one. Many of the dragonriders who saw him looked upon him with disapproval.
  What am I doing? He demanded of himself again. He stared up at Amalasa...now detaching from the formation...and tripped. He hit the ground with a thud and felt the wind knocked out of him. His leg twisted cruelly underneath him and he couldn't stand back up!
    "Help!" He cried desperately, knowing they could see him. They would think him a fool now, but he needed help! They couldn't just leave him alone in thread!
    He felt a draft of wing as a green dragon landed beside him. Estukoth.
    "Iolan you crazy deadglow!" Amalasa yelled, jumping down. "I would have just left you there if the wingleader hadn't told me to go 'rescue that sharding fool'! A you still drunk, or are you that much of a dimglow? You just ruined my shot at flying with a weyr for the first time!"
    "Estokoth is only a weyrling, she's not old enough." Iolan replied. Estukoth roared at this, and by her rider's tone, she would have too, had she been a dragon.
    "Don't say something you don't know to be true!" She yelled, face white with anger. "We have completed weyrling training thank you very much, and Falas weyr thought her old enough to call her to help! Though thanks to you irresponsibility....uuuug, why must Cold Rocks Hold always hinder me son? Come on, can you get up?"
    "If I could, then I wouldn't have yelled for help now would I."
    'I don't know, your a crazy drunk dimglow, who knows why you could have called." She helped him, very roughly, to his feet. He struggled to limp back toward the hold, which now looked incredibly far away. It would be hard to walk all that way back. He said so, and Amalasa glared at him.
    "If you are faking this, I swear to Farranth....She let the threat hang and looked up at the dragons. "Come on." She growled, pulling him towards Estukoth.  The green lowered her neck and Amalasa helped him--roughly, climb on behind her. When Estukoth took off, he grabbed hold of Amalasa to keep from falling off, and laughed inwardly as he felt her stiffen.
    The flight back to the hold was short, but Iolan enjoyed it immensely for the whole two minutes that they were aloft.
    "That was fun." He said when they landed and she helped him down.
    "I'm hoping you can at least make it to an infirmary by yourself." She replied. Iolan grinned sheepishly. He didn't think he could.
    "Arrrrrrrrrrg." Amalasa growled. Iolan grinned.
    "That was awesome." He said as they slowly and painstakingly made their way down the corridors. "It must be awesome to be a dragonrider."
    "Mmm hmm."
    "I should try to be a dragonrider! That would be the life, riding a strong dragon, lots of willing greenriders..."
    Amalasa burst out laughing, shifting her weight and nearly causing Iolan to fall. "You? A dragonrider! Hah!"
    "What?" Iolan demanded angrily. "How is that so funny?"
    "It just is." Amalasa replied amid laughter. "I've seen you, heard your father's grumbling. You only work in the fields when it's to impress women. You get drunk and pass out in the middle of the hall. You'd be laughed off the sands! Oh, I know dragonriders more arrogant than you, believe it or not, but at least they have dedication. Being a dragonrider is a whole lot more responsibility than you'll ever see in your entire life. You have to work hard."
    "I can work hard! You don't know how hard work in the fields is. I can work very hard if I wanted too. And it wouldn't be that hard to just fight thread."
    More laughter. "Just fight thread? You think it's just about thread? 'Just fighting thread' is more of a responsibility than you can ever know, and not the only one! From the day you impress your dragon, you have to bathe and oil and feed it, and at first it can't even catch its own food, you have to prepare for it. I'd like to see you try that. That's why people like you aren't dragonriders."
    Anger coursed through Iolan at the offhanded comment. He was getting pretty far with her, but that just made him mad. Who was she to say that he couldn't be a dragonrider? Just because she was one, one out of how many others out there, she suddenly knew all about them! True, searchriders had come to Cold Rocks Hold before, and true, they had passed over him, but that didn't mean anything. He could become a dragonrider if he wanted too! And maybe, he did want too. His father couldn't be disappointed in him then, and he'd get to fly, and he could chase Amalasa. Haha, she'd love that.

   Iolan found himself with a sprained ankle, and two days passed with him moaning and griping about it. Two days, no Amalasa. He lost his bet. But that seemed the least of his worries. After being called a sharding deadglow by almost everyone in the hold, and being lectured by a good half of them, he was fast declining in popularity. The only person who really didn't treat him any differently was Amalasa. But then again she had always treated him coldly anyway, and she had already given him her lecture. Well, come to think of it, she did laugh at him sometimes for no reason, as did all of his friends, but other than that, no different.
    He had lost his bet, so a weeks worth of chores were his to do, as well as his own, with a sprained ankle. He set about them with a vehemence though, and made sure Amalasa was watching as often as possible. Partly to impress her, for he never gave up that, but partly to show her that he could too work hard if he needed too. And if it was for a woman, even indirectly, he could work hard.
    And he did work hard to impress Amalasa. He lost his bet, and it seemed to him as if she had won a victory over him, and he hated that. She was always so cold to him! It annoyed him to no end, and it became an obsession with him to just get her to talk to him friendly, nothing more. She would be leaving the Hold soon, and he couldn't bear if if she left without at least a few friendly words.

    "Hey, Iolan!" Paris called to him one night. "Iolan, what are you doing out here? Come to the dining hall, there's great wine, and dancing, and Heriva's there."
    "I don't feel like it tonight Paris." Iolan replied, limping down the hall next to his friend.
    "Don't feel like it? Iolan, what's wrong with you? Where's Iolan the party animal? Iolan the irresistible?"
    "He's tired." Iolan replied.
    "Come on Iolan! Did that thread addle your brains or something?" The thread didn't, but the woman had.
    "Oh all right." Iolan replied, sighing. He didn't really want to be around all the people tonight, laughing, jeering. And Amalasa wouldn't be there. But he had used to love it, so he followed his friend. Maybe it would help him feel normal again. He had felt very strange lately.
    He got himself a drink and sat down at a table with Paris and some other men.
    "Hey, it's Iolan the thread-tamer!" One said, another whistled. Iolan smiled at them briefly. Ah yes, the jeers. Heriva crossed the room and sat down beside him as well, smiling. Her smile was beautiful. At least after his little misadventure, the young women of the hold were now twice as attracted to him. He smiled back, but scooted away. Tonight, the clinging woman seemed irritating. He could tell she wanted to dance, but he refused, and scooted back into his corner to just watch and sip his wine. He doubted he could dance on his ankle now anyway.
    Several people wondered what was wrong with Iolan that night, usually the life of the party, but they enjoyed themselves and left him alone, figuring he would bounce back.

    "What?" Iolan demanded, rather roughly, of the small and shy holder girl, Nenei. She was Amalasa's younger sister, having some similar characteristics in the eyes and face, but with a much smaller build than Amalasa, and a much more timid look about her.
    "She's gone sir." The girl cried, tears building up in her eyes. Well, he could expect that. The girl's mother might as well be dead, he expected she would be sad, but she could at least answer his question!
    "Where did she go? Why?"
    "She went back to the Weyr with that dragon! She left because we all know mother is...mother..." at this the girl broke off into tears.
    "What, you mean she just left, even before her mother truly died? Does she care nothing for the hold!" The anger was not directed at the girl, but it didn't help her grief any. "I'm sorry, here, wipe your eyes. I'm sorry about your mother." He felt awkward, not really knowing what to say to someone in such grief, and his being angry didn't exactly help. After a few more comforting words he left the girl.
    So she had left. While he had spent the night in his corner watching the festivities, she had gotten on her dragon and slipped away. She probably wouldn't come back either. "Cold rocks hold is dead to me."  He bitterly recalled her saying. He may be dead to her, but she wasn't dead to him. Would he ever see her again? Somehow, it wasn't about getting her in his chambers or anything. He just wanted to talk with her, have her accept him as a friend, he just...well, he couldn't really explain it. He hadn't even gotten a chance to say good bye to her!
Now, she could be on the other side of Pern, he didn't even know what Weyr she had gone to when she impressed. She could be anywhere.
    There was nothing for him to do but go on with his new daily life. His father was proud of him now, his ankle was healing slowly but surely, and the old Iolan was gone, or seemed to be. He hoped to think that Amalasa would be proud of him too, if she even cared. Shards, what had this woman done to him?

    In the morning light a few sevendays later, yet another large figure circled to land in front of Cold Rocks Hold.  It was a dragon, similar in size to that of the not quite mature Green Estukoth, but not in coloring. This dragon was from Falas Weyr, where the dragons carried special genes, and the dragon had silvery-white hide to show it. Her rider stepped down, a dark-haired woman of perhaps eighteen turns. She was on Search. Her Weyr had been called to help the neighboring Weyrs fight thread here not long ago, so she thought it a good place to start. That young greenrider Amalasa from Dark Moon had been born here, perhaps more could be found.
    It seemed pretty quiet around the hold, at least that was her first impression, but then, it was early. A few people were out and about, but her dragon didn't really seem to sense anything about them. She ventured inside the Hold and went in search of the lord holder.
    A while later the hold was abuzz. A search dragon! Search dragons had come through before, sometimes quite often, from many Weyrs, and none of the holderfolk gave up the hope that one day they would be chosen.
    When the word reached Iolan, he wasn't fully awake, and the impact of the words didn't really register. "Searchrider from Falas, she looks mighty pretty you know.." Paris' words floated in one ear and out the other, until he heard the world "Falas". "We have completed weyrling training thank you very much, and Falas Weyr thought her old enough to call her to help!" Falas Weyr! Amalasa had said that! Maybe it was the Weyr that she lived at now. Maybe she would be there! Maybe...he hurried into action, glancing in the mirror a few times to check his appearance then hurrying out to the green to see the dragon.
    Estukoth was not there, but there were a good many people gathered around a silver-white dragon. The dragon looked familiar...Iolan seemed to recall seeing it somewhere...
    "AH!" he slapped his forehead. "Falas! She was on the wing!" He called, remembering. He caught a glimpse of the rider too, and recalled seeing her, and her seeing him, out in thread like a crazy dimglow. "Ah...no! I can't do this!" He turned back toward the hold.
  Your one chance to see Amalasa again. He told himself. Yeah, if I hadn't acted like a pure blind fool! Like she'd search me now! I don't doubt she remembers.

  She did remember. Maeve of Silver-white Silverosth had indeed been there in Amalasa's wing during his stunt, and she recognized him instantly. Or rather, her dragon did.
  Look it's that foolish holder.
  "I see him." Maeve replied, laughing a bit inwardly. Her dragon did not mirror her thoughts though.
  Take him. She replied. I think he'll do. Maeve turned to her dragon. "Are you sure?" From what she had heard about him, and seen herself, he seemed irresponsible, foolish, and definitely not capable of riding a dragon.
  Yes my rider. He was foolish. But there is something different now.
  "I suppose I can't argue with your judgment." Maeve said, starting toward the holder. "You there!" She called after him. He turned quickly, looking startled, and somewhat handsome.
    "Yes?" He asked, looking her over.
    "I am Maeve, Searchrider from Falas Weyr."
    "Um..yeah." He replied. "Yeah, I, remember seeing you. And, you probably remember seeing me too."
    "As a matter of fact I do."
    "Yeah well I can assure you, I wasn't thinking. I really don't act like that always...I just..." he stopped, realizing he was stuttering and not acting like himself at all. What happened to his way with women? He should have her charmed by now! But he hadn't been acting like himself for a while now.
    "A bit reckless." She agreed. "But perhaps understandable. If you really wanted to see Falas dragons that bad, there is a place for you at Falas. There is a clutch there you see, and a special one. Silverosth seems to think that you would make a good candidate for it, though you might want to take my advice and not do such foolish things at the Weyr."
    Iolan grinned. Falas Weyr, here he would come! Amalasa, here he would come! His father could definantly be proud of him now, and he would show Amalasa that he was able.
 
 
 

   If Amalasa was at Falas Weyr, Iolan had no way of knowing. This was indeed a special clutch, and instead of being taken to the Weyr he was taken to the hold where a large number of other candidates were gathered, near fourty. Some of them had been there for a long time, but Iolan himself didn't have long there to wait, being one of the last candidates to be searched, before they were taken to the Weyr in time for the hatching. He didn't have time to look for Amalasa then either, but he had other things on his mind anyway. Such as, the hot sand below his feet, the row of dragons...and the eggs.
    It seemed like forever, but finally the silver-white dragon that had searched him began, tentatively, to reach out with her claw and scratch at the shell of a rocking egg. Iolan cringed. What was she doing? Weren't dragon eggs supposed to hatch on their own?
    Cracks appeared in the egg she was working on, so the dragoness stepped back.  As Iolan watched, breathless, as the first dragon hatched, he saw that this was indeed a special clutch.  The hatchling was amber, a color dragon Iolan had never seen before, nor thought possible. More eggs hatched, containing rare dragon colors and two-colored dragons and all sorts of wonders.  The dragons were smaller, he saw none that looked like they would grow to be as large as browns or bronzes, but they were amazing. A blue with black wings, a bronze with copper wings, a solid black dragon, all sorts of wonders.
  Hah! Won't Amalasa be shocked when she finds I've impressed a dragon like this! If he impressed. He watched the eggs and dragonets apprehensively, but though others had found lifemates, he hadn't. He wondered how they were doing it, if there was something special he was supposed to do or think. Just be calm. He said to himself. His time would come.  The silver-white dragon had said he could stand as a candidate, thought he had a chance, otherwise he wouldn't be here.
    He soon began to shift his weight with anticipation. Any moment now, his dragon would come! He looked on each impression and couldn't wait for his to happen as well.
    But egg after egg hatched, revealing all sorts of dragons, but none seemed even mildly interested in him.
    There was a lull in the egg hatching, and Iolan feared for a second that the rest wouldn't hatch. So did some of the dragoners, apparantly, one woman knelt next to an egg to feel it.
    They did begin hatching again though, a dozen at once, but still, amid all the confusion, Iolan found no lifemate.  There were still many eggs left though.
    The many eggs continued to hatch and Iolan watched each one, wondering again if there was something he was supposed to be doing that he wasn't.  He caught the eyes of some of the other candidates, many looked as apprehensive as he did, and was slightly comforted. They hadn't impressed yet either. Wait, now that one had.
    Four eggs. Iolan wanted to yell with impatience, yet at the same time he couldn't do anything but stand rooted to the spot and watch.  One egg hatched into a marble colored dragon, another into a silver-gold. Both very special, even for a special clutch. The marble started across the sands but fell forward, and a candidate rushed forward to help him. The silver-gold just sat there, until a granite firelizard belonging to one of the candidates rushed across the sands to the dragonet.
    Two eggs left, and two candidates. Iolan gritted his teeth as one of the eggs cracked--to reveal a green. Female, not for him. He turned his eyes to the last egg. It will hatch, it must hatch, I must impress. He thought, willing the egg to hatch. A spidery network of cracks slowly spread over the last smooth ivory egg, clearest indication  of the intent of the dragon within to be born. A determined crack finally appeared, and within moments a bright blue dragon had pushed his way out. He strutted a few steps from his shell, and flung open his golden wings, puffing himself up with pride. Yes, it hatched all right.
 Where is the one called thread-tamer? the blue-gold said, though he knew fully well where
   the young man, standing alone on the hatching sands, in question was. Whirling eyes starred into Iolan's.
    "Firielth; That is not who I am." Iolan said. Even his dragon called him that! His dragon.
     And why not I’lan? Surely the world is meant for us to tame. Firielth said, with as much ego  oozing from his voice as a young bronze. I'lan had to laugh. Yes, yes, we will tame the world, you and I. What a day, what a dragon!
 
 

I do not understand your obsession with this woman.
  "Well, you wouldn't yet." I'lan replied, vaguely. Truthfully, he didn't understand either, it just....was. He had spent the past sevendays, he didn't know how many, feeding and bathing and caring for the arrogant Firielth, and now weyrling training was beginning.  Soon, they would be able to fly, and soon, go between , and then, he would have a chance of finding Amalasa. Unfortunately he still did not know where she was. She wasn't at Falas Weyr, he knew that much now, but he was glad he had come to Falas.
  You'd better be glad. You wouldn't have impressed me anywhere else!
    "Hmm." I'lan replied.. I'lan, the name suited him so much better than Iolan. Iolan was the no-good lazy holder, I'lan was a hard working dragonrider.  Amalasa had hated Iolan,  but maybe she would consider I'lan.
  Amalasa this, Amalasa that.  You don't even know where she is!  She could be on the other side of Pern! But luckily, you have me to help you.  Perhaps Silverosth knows where her green Estukoth is, perhaps I could ask.
  "No! Don't do that!" I'lan jumped up.  He definitely didn't want his dragon talking to the other dragons about this.
  Well, she might know, and you probably won't find out any other way.  There was a michevious note in the dragon's tone.
  "Firielth!" I'lan hated when his dragon took initiative to do things. The Blue only ruffled his wings, revealing bright gold.  He was a weyrling now about the size of a blue, but he was strong, and had the ego of a bronze.
  Amalasa and Green Estukoth are wingriders at Dark Moon Weyr.  Firielth reporting, sounding please with himself.  I don't beleive that is terribly far from here, rider mine.  Firielth said, reading his rider's mind.
    "Why so it isn't." I'lan smiled. The two Weyrs interacted quite often, in fact.
  There, now that that is taken care of, would you oil my hide sometime soon so that I may look dazzling?
  I'lan sighed. "Yes, oh master dragon." He hopped down from the ledge where he was sitting and followed the strutting blue-gold.  He was given relatively little free time from training, and he got to spend it oiling his dragon's hide.
    He passed by Siverosth and her rider on the way, and noticed to his dismay a slight smirk on her face.  So she knew, and thought she could tease him! He did his best to ignore the smirk.
  Firielth!  He said to his dragon silently. Firielth only laughed a draconic laugh.
 
 

Great wings beat the air outside of Cold Rocks Hold, not for the first time, and probably not the last.  This time, however, was probably the showiest entry a dragon and rider had even made to its gates.  People who ran to see the comotion were used to dragons landing, since they had that happen quite a lot, but they were still surprised to see the blue dragon with gold wings come to a sepactacular landing.  They were probably even more surprised to see a man they knew all too well as a holdwide womanizer and nuisance jump down from the dragon's neck.
  Well Firielth, I think we've surprised them.
  Yes. Firilith replied, looking around at the place.  So this is where you were before.
   "Ah, Cold Rocks Hold. " I'lan looked around him.
    "Iolan!" Paris came running to him.  "You...what...how..." He starred at Firielth dumbfoundedly.
    "Well, I was searched wasn't I? Doesn't that imply that I would be impressing a dragon?"
    "Yes but I...didn't actually think..."
    "You didn't actually beleive I would impress?" I'lan demanded. Paris looked sheepish.
    "You, my own friend, didn't think I could?"
    "Well...not many did."
    "What?"
    "Well I can see that you've changed.  You had changed before you left, but we didn't know if it would last or not.  And Iolan, you left very suddenly, didn't even say goodbye to an old friend.  I think you oughta be more considerate.  But perhaps a ride on that dragon of yours will make it even."
    I'lan laughed.  "Firielth will gladly give you a ride...later.  Where is my father?"
    "He's probably in the hold, though people have probably rushed to find him. " Paris grinned.  "Heriva's inside too, and I'm sure she and all the other women will be rushing to come see Iolan the thread-tamer and his blue and gold dragon. Honestly Iolan, you always have to outdo the rest of us when it comes to women."
    I'lan thought he might enjoy the women rushing at him, but not the same way he used to.  The change in him seemed to be permanent.
    Many of his old cronies pat him on the back and the girls ooed and aahed at him and his dragon.  He had to look even more hansome in his riding gear than he normally did.
    Firielth was enjoying the attention as well.  He wouldn't fit inside the hold, but he was happy to sit outside of it and be admired by all of the holders.  He stretched his gold wings, the holders loved that they were gold like the queen dragons even though he was a blue, and basked in their compliments.
    I'lan went inside in search of his father.  He found him walking through the corridors, heading towards the gates to go see his son.
    "Can I believe what I am seeing?" He asked.  He looked much older now.
    "Believe it father.  I am no longer the lazy holder Iolan, I curse his memory.  I am now I'lan, the dragonrider.  Surely that cannot dissapoint you."
    "You have surprised me my son.  I had thought that all my lectures never got through to you, but it seems that they may have.  I'd like to see this dragon of yours."
    "He's outside."  I'lan lead his father back out to see Firielth.  The old man looked at Firielth and did something surprising.  He pat I'lan on the back and smiled.  "Thats my boy."