L'mir craned his head as the group of weyrlings stood in the Parade Grounds, the Weyrling training section of the Weyrbowl. "This," The weyrlingmaster said loudly, "Is how you are expected to fly on your first trip. Like the older senior weyrlings. Don't forget that right now, you're on your own: if you fall, all dragons will do their best to save you, but that doesn't mean anything. If you fall, you fall. L'mir, you and Rysendith can go first."
The weyrling gulped. Why was he going first over the brownriders? That made no sense at all. Well, some sense, but not alot. He was one of the students that was in the upper part of the class, but wasn't beating one of the brownriders or two other blueriders. Rysendith was a big blue, so maybe that was why.
It does not matter why, Rysendith said. We are together, and together we are the best! L'mir had no doubt that Rysendith would of trumpeted then had they not been in Weyrling training.
So he shakily mounted the blue, trying hard not to become pale. He had no doubt that the Weyrlingmaster would no longer let them fly if he saw that L'mir was nervous.
Rysendith's wings pumped powerfuly, and the weyrling felt himself rising with his dragon, the beat of his wings making a rythym. One, two, three... Rysendith began to move foreward.
And then he and L'mir were soaring. They were barely fifteen feet above the Parade Grounds, but somehow it seemed to them like a half a mile high. Rysendith's clumsy turns seemed perfect, and it was only too soon before the Weyrlingmaster signaled for the dragonpair to come back down.
It was too short, Rysendith said sadly. But we will fly togethere always, you and I! And one day we shall flame!
Flights
