Author: Sam

Story: A New Start: 2 of 3

Series: Islinne Weyr

Characters: A'ron and Hotchneth, J'ac and Hagenth, D'karon, Sadilen

Setting: AU 10th pass: Islinne Weyr Territory

3380.10.24 (October 3, 1980); Islinne Weyr:

A’ron lifted his glass, laughing merrily. The tall raven-haired man opened his mouth to present a toast, when the wind was suddenly knocked out of him by a well-placed blow to his midriff. He looked up quickly, trying to identify the source of the attack.

A slim man in his early twenties stood to A’ron’s left, but he wasn't the perceived threat. He was J’ac, a younger bronzerider who was close friends with A’ron. He had his fists clenched, ready for the confrontation he knew would come. Deep blue-grey eyes blazing with cold fire, J’ac flipped his dark chestnut hair from in front of his eyes.

No, J’ac wasn't the threat... it was the smaller, less athletic looking man standing in front of the pair. He spoke in a whiny, monotonous voice that grated the nerves of even the most patient of men... and neither friend was very patient after such an affront.

"I don't want to hear any of your over blown lies, bronzerider. You are, after all, just a weyrling." The man was shadowed in darkness, but his voice was too clear. It was bluerider D'karon; he had graduated from the last weyrling class, but hadn't been tapped to a wing yet. A’ron and J’ac just had.

J’ac took a step forward, but the other bronzerider placed a hand on his shoulder. "No fights," he whispered.

J’ac looked at his friend steadily then a slow smile crossed his face, enhancing his features. He turned to D'karon and bowed. Raising his glass he spoke softly, but very clearly. "To you and your blue, D'karon. Long life and many Greens." He downed the cup in one gulp then flung it away and crouched low. Swiftly he threw a punch in D'karon's direction, but stopped about a foot from the older man.

D'karon stood stunned as he watched the bronzerider toast him after he'd just attacked him. When J’ac crouched, though, the surprise turned into wariness. The fist flying at him caused D'karon to fall backwards to avoid it. He sat up to the sounds of laughter from the surrounding people. He realized, then, that J’ac hadn't meant to hit him.... just humiliate him.

"I'm not above teaching a bronzeling a lesson in manners. Are you too afraid to fight, that you stop your fist? Are you afraid to strike, knowing it would be your only shot?" The bluerider sneered at the tall brunet, taunting him.

J’ac looked thoughtful and slowly turned back to D'karon. "I will answer both your questions, D'karon." The crowd hushed to hear the quiet voice of the younger man. "Only a man afraid would feel he needed to fight for a stupid cause... which you are. Yes, I believe I would only get one hit; it would be all I needed to lay you on the floor, you over-stuffed, egotistical wherry." With that, he bowed once more to the bluerider and strode away.

D'karon wanted to show the others that he could defeat the younger rider but something in J’ac's words stopped him. He wasn't going to look like a coward by fighting... or was that what the bronzerider had wanted? Instead, the bluerider stood up and demanded more wine. He started bragging about how the other rider had ‘passed his test of courage’.

A’ron let the man talk, trying to follow J’ac. It was better D'karon didn't feel like he had to kill the brunet. "J’ac?" “Where is he, Love?”

“He talks to someone near the green fields,” came Hotchneth's sleepy reply.

A’ron hurried in the direction of the herd pastures.

3380.10.24 (October 3, 1980)

"I'm desperate, J’ac. Please. I haven't got the strength to pull him out alone. I managed to get rope, but you were the first person I saw that wasn't distracted by the graduation gather." Sadilen, a blond-haired twenty-three turn old man, stepped in front of the bronzerider.

One and a half turns earlier, Sadilen had been up for his tenth and final chance for Impression. The egg in front of him had split first during the Hatching, but little bronze Hagenth hadn't even seemed to be aware of the tow-headed man. He had headed straight for fourteen turn oldd J’ac, next to Sadilen. Sadilen hadn't Impressed and had avoided J’ac for the eighteen months of weyrling training that followed.

Now he was asking the young bronzerider for help in rescuing a trapped child.

J’ac thoughtfully watched Sadilen. After a moment, the sixteen turn old nodded slowly. "All right, Sadilen. Where is this sinkhole?"

Sadilen quickly signaled J’ac to follow and slipped into the shadows that crisscrossed the grazing pastures. Only minutes later, they reached their destination.

J’ac saw the pit, sinking deep into the brown soil. He nodded and started knotting the rope around his waist. "Sadilen, tie this end to that fence post over there. I'll go down and grab the boy. When I tug the rope, start pulling us up. You can hold the rope steady. Pull me up if I get in trouble."

Sadilen nodded, looking relieved. J’ac wondered at the expression. Was the man so afraid of small areas that he really couldn't go down? The bronzerider shrugged, and stared into the dark hole. Softly he called out, "Rest now, young one. My name is J’ac. I ride bronze Hagenth. I'm going to get you out."

Before he could start into the hole, a heavy blow to the back of his head caused him to lose all conscious thought. The last thing in his mind was the bottom of the pit rushing towards him then all went black.

Hagenth, sleepy from drowsing in the warm sun, suddenly became aware of the lack of mental touch from his rider. “It is dark. Where are you?” He started to get extremely worried when no reply came to him.

Sadilen was unaware of the bronze's quick attention to his rider's unconsciousness. He was too busy throwing loose soil on his hated foe. Grinning maniacally, he continued his grisly chore.

J’ac awoke soon after the burial started, already under a coating of soil. He struggled to sit up and found it increasingly difficult to do so. To avoid a mouthful of soil, he couldn’t even scream out. The young bronzerider hoped Sadilen would stop before the job was done. He started crawling in the loose soil, but wasn't getting anywhere. Panic was starting to rob him of his calm. “Hagenth! Help! I'm being buried!”

Hagenth, fully awake now, reared up on his haunches and bugled in alarm. He called out to any dragon that would listen. “He is being planted! Help me, I cannot find him!”

The bronze dragon took to the air, circling the Weyr, trying to find his partner. Bronze Hotchneth, and a host of other young dragons, also took to the air, bugling at Hagenth's distress. Suddenly, a loud deep-throated bugle was heard and every dragon was silent... except for a pitiful whimpering from Hagenth. The Weyrwoman's queen rested back on her haunches, eyes whirling orange in alarm.

A’ron called out from the pasture edge, "Hotchneth says he went this way!"

The WeyrlingMaster was thankful for the young bronzerider's uncharacteristically loud voice. Riders formed search parties quickly, the WeyrLeader's group heading toward the pastures. When they caught up with A’ron, they found him tugging on an arm. It was eerie to see that bare limb lying in the freshly turned soil, as if someone hadn't quite finished burying the body.

The WeyrLeader helped A’ron tug J’ac free of the encasing soil, two other riders digging in hurried assistance. Scraped, bleeding, and barely breathing, J’ac collapsed onto the ground with a soft groan. Islinne's WeyrlingMaster stepped forward with three other men. They were carrying a stretcher from the infirmary. After loading the young bronzerider onto the stretcher, the four men carefully carried him away.

A’ron bespoke Hotchneth, “Who was with J’ac? Ask Hagenth.”

Hotchneth was silent for a moment then sent a picture back to his rider. The bronze dragon didn't dignify the picture with any form of comment.

A’ron whirled towards his Weyrleader. "Sir, it was Sadilen. Hotchneth says that's who Hagenth says was with J’ac."

With a grim nod, the WeyrLeader sent someone to find Sadilen for questioning. Then he dispatched several groups of riders to comb the area for anything that might be a clue: a person, a set of foot prints, anything. When finished he turned to A’ron. "Let's see if we may talk to J’ac."

3380.10.25 (October 4, 1980)

A’ron finished folding his gold-colored tunic and carefully placed it in the carrier. "J’ac..." A’ron looked anxiously at the uncharacteristically quiet bronzerider standing by the open door curtains. "J’ac..."

J’ac slowly turned, trying not to jar his still healing wounds. "Yes, A’ron," he replied.

"I'm also asking to transfer."

If the brunet man was surprised by his friend's words, he didn't show it. He merely nodded and turned back to the weyr opening. He let his eyes rest on the restlessly sleeping form of his dragon. As if that glance was a signal, Hagenth awoke and stretched, hurriedly checking on his rider.

A’ron continued. His habitual confidence reasserted itself by the end of his speech. “I've been approved by Islinne’s WeyrLeaders already. I'm to make sure the Northern Continent knows everything there is to know about Sadilen. They thought it'd be a good idea for you to be with someone familiar, too.” With a small smile and a shrug, the eighteen turn old added, “Besides, Hotchneth could use this next step. He's actually getting quite comfortable in this group. I think it's time he was placed in a group of strangers. I really do have to help him get over his shyness. Ista Weyr sounds like the perfect place for that."

"Are you finished packing that clothes storehouse you call a wardrobe?" J’ac asked over his shoulder with a light tone, ignoring the out pouring of information his normally reticent friend had bestowed.

A’ron grinned, knowing that with time the sixteen turn old would recover his normal playfulness. "I can't wait to see this new Weyr. There should be plenty of pretty girls to meet. I hear they're bred for prettiness in the Northern Continent."

J’ac slowly turned towards his friend, a barely discernable smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. A’ron, upon seeing that familiar sign of relaxation on the other bronzerider's face, laughed and hurried to finish his packing.