A Demon from Between... (Blue; Open)

[E]

The world seemed to split in two as the roar that ripped through the morning sky shook the stones on the WeyrBowl floor. A draft of cold air, colder than any memory of between blasted through the curvature of the bowl as it followed the echoes of the roar. It was more than just any roar, it was a scream of pain; a scream for help and a scream of defiance all rolled into one, and it shook the Weyr to its core…

Like a rock, the great bronze came rushing down through the sky, his wings useless leather strips no matter how hard he strained the muscles. The smell of burning flesh fought to keep ahead of his decent, but it was a failing fight as he plummeted to the earth. With another deafening roar as he attempted to keep himself upright so he would not land upon the one so dear to him.

The landing was worse than ungrateful and anyone watching would have winced as the bronze caught himself on his wing at the last moment, sending him into a roll despite all of his attempts. Blood smeared the ground as he went one, two, three times around clawing at anything to stop the spin. The next cry escaping his lips was a strangled, sorrowful thing that tore at the heart.

E’mion! E’mion! Someone! Anyone! Everyone! Help him! He reached out, touching every mind he could – dragon and human alike the great bronze reached even as he fought to his own shaking feet. Someone help him! He lives! I know he lives! Someone! Anyone! Everyone! E’mion! E’miooooooon!!! The bronze let out another heart wrenching wail as he demanded the attentions of anyone he could reach.

E’MION!!!!

[LyricalBlue]

It had been two days since the wild, fear drenched cry from Aliath... Since then there had been nothing but silence. E'dian had the smaller dragons, the blues and greens who were most practiced at stealth combing the jungle. There had been no word, all the dragons could tell him is that they were alive. Alive and they could not escape... and worse they were somewhere where they could give no coordinates. E'dian felt well and truly useless for the first time in his life. What would he do without Gaelle? No... the Weyr would not lose its only adult Queen... they could not. There was simply no option there, they would find her. Then Faranth help those that kidnapped her, because no mercy would be come from E'dian's corner.

It was this reason that had the Weyrleader out in the bowl having strong words with his only daughter. He could not help but prepare for the worst, and by the hands on hips and the eyes that looked like they could bore holes into his head, E'dian was rather sure this was not going well. The girl was far too like her mother for her own good. He had his hands out, trying to explain that she really had to act like the leader she would be, when Malekith came tumbling from the sky.

The bronze's mental screams cut through the air to all of those that could hear. Nisurath stood from her ledge and roared, rousing the entire Weyr. E'dian took off running towards the what could only be the lump of a thread scored dragon that was now bleeding everywhere. Shards but they had a lot of blood! He yelled back to his daughter as he ran.
"Get Phaedon! Get Tamejiv!"

Iaslia sprung into the action in the opposite direction, more than willing to get away from the gruesome scene in the Weyr Bowl.
Tell Phaedon and Tamejiv to get to the bowl now!
The tiny gold on the ledge roared out again, showing something of she what she might someday be. She spread out her small, pale wings and roared mentally, directing her call as best she could to the two healers.
HEALERS! You must come to the BOWL!
Iaslia stretched out her long legs, sprinting up the stairs towards the Infirmary. Oh Faranth! What in the world was happening out there.
Keep that bronze here love!
He will not leave without his.No no no no! Malekith! The Weyrleader must get yours off! Hold! Malekith! Hold!

E'dian grasped at the straps across the tattered bronze's hide. Shards but he was a mess! Bile rose up in his stomach as he remembered Arizith's death and the many dragons that died trying to protect her during the last, strange threadfall.
Xi! Tell him to lay down! I cannot reach the rider!
The bronze up on his own ledge reinforced Nisurath's call, enforcing calm as much as he could. What had happened to these two? They were no pair that E'dian had ever heard of... and Pern's dragons were few indeed. Where had they come from?

[DeusExMachina]

Tinker. Tinker tinker. That's what the new Healer did when he wasn't specifically on duty. He sat in his room at his desk and tinkered. The meticulous, delicate, painstaking task of assembling the wind-up motor in the music box helped him not think the 10,000 thoughts that swirled aimlessly in his over-driven mind. Tinker... tinker...

...knock knock...

The poor infirmary aide that had been sent to collect the man from his office very nearly rocked over backward when he tore open the door and bore down on her with an impatient, "What?!" By the time the message was relayed that Iaslia - "Who is Iaslia and why should I care?" - was looking for him, he hastily stepped into some shoes and shadowed the girl back to the infirmary, there to present himself as the portrait of bemusement.

"Where is the patient?" he asked succinctly, fully expecting that whoever it was that was in such grave peril would be brought here on a stretcher or something, as was common. See, for Tamejiv, things happened in very orderly ways: someone got sick or injured, they came to the infirmary, he or someone else fixed them, they went home. People didn't just burst out of between half-dead and summon Healers to the bowl to attend them.

This "posting" business was bizarre.

[hrsegrl]

The dragon healer was busy. He was always busy. Today he was instructing some of the younger apprentices on how to make numbweed. The older apprentices would be helping them with the actual making of the numbweed later. Phaedon's instructions were specific and detailed which often made it hard for the children to reproduce numbweed exactly. Phaedon often found that when one made a mistake creating something it was easier later on to avoid the same mistake. He was certainly not going to dumb anything down for them.

In the middle of an important section of the instructions he was interrupted by the Gold dragon's voice in his head. The initial shock wore off quickly enough. He was needed immediately in the Weyr Bowl. Something was seriously wrong for the Gold dragon to contact him. Without so much as a goodbye to the apprentices he turned on heel and left them, staring open mouthed. On his way out he spoke to one of the journeymen and had them take over. His words were out of his mouth just as he left the Dragon Infirmiry so the man had no time to object.

Phaedon was no spring chicken, he was in his fifties for Faranth's sake! The man tried to jog most of the way to the Bowl but there was no way he could run like a youth of eighteen all the way to the Bowl. When he did arrive it was before Tamejiv but long enough for him to have missed the action. Taking in the scene quickly as the clever man often did, he came to rather quick conclusions. Breathing heavily he immediately walked towards Iaslia. “As the rider is unconcious I will require lovely Nisurath's help in bespeaking the Bronze. Also we should show him to food and water as soon as possible. He's in horrible color!”

Phaedon was not about to stand around and gawk at the great beast. There was a lot to do and he feared not much time to do it in. The rider was of concern too but Phaedon's responsibility lay with the Bronze. Looking away from the beast and back at the red headed teenager he said, “First things first what do you already know about him?” He certainly did not want to be redundant. There were a good many things weighing on his mind. Most importantly, where was he from?

[E]

Malekith noticed the man running toward him instantly and lowered his shoulders. While at first it may have looked like he knew the man’s intentions and was going to allow his rider taken from the harness, it was clear as soon as he lowered his head and bared his teeth at the man that the bronze was a little more shook up than that. Letting out a low, deep rumble at the man it was the voice of a gold – as young as it may have been – that brought the bronze’s eyes off the man and upward.

Spotting the pale yellow thing, Malekith’s growl stopped abrumptly in surprise. Lifting his great head to her height easily, his eyes whirled faster. Are you the queen of this Weyr? Where is your mother?

Again he saw the man moving toward him and the bronze lowered his head again, though the presence of a gold – even one he mocked – had its obvious calming effect on the beast. Lowering his shoulders for a second time, he swung his head to the man but without malice this time. His eyes swirled with concern and…. Fear? Could dragon’s truly know fear?

Speaking to the gold again even as he locked his eyes on the man, Malekith continued to carefully lay himself down to bring himself as close to the ground as possible. Tell the man to be careful, that it is MY rider he is going to move. If he harms him, I WILL take as many between with me as I can.

The bronzes words were bold, firm and spoken like a dragon in charge despite the alian feeling the bronze was getting from the Weyr as a whole. This was not his Weyr… this was not even the Ponaa Weyr they had been moved to… But his rider was hurt… He was hurt… They needed SOME Weyr!

His mental voice switched from its one in charge back to one of fear and pain as he spoke more softly to the little gold. Ask him if I may keep my rider in sight… This is not our home… this is... not our home… Watching the man with one eye, he took in the others entering the bowl with a slow, painful sigh. It seemed that that landing had taken more out of him than Malekith had thought and he was tired… So tired...

[LyricalBlue]

A huge, growling beast, with teeth the size of your head was something to take pause at. Even E'dian who had lived his whole lives with dragons, paused as Malekith thought things over. As soon as the bronze decided that they weren't a threat, the Weyrleader pulled the battered form of E'mion from the straps. He checked to see if the rider was still breathing then looked about at the mayham that was the bowl. Where was that Healer?! He turned to his daughter, who was now next to Phaedon.
Xi! Tell this bronze that we need to move his rider to the Infirmary. If he can't follow, you and Seth should be able to move him.
They are Malekith and E'mion, Nisurath says.
E'dian nodded as Xialanth relayed the message to, what was it, Malekith? A strange name... where had they come from?

Up on her ledge, Nisurath ruffled her wings, eyes whirling rapidly red.
My mother cannot be here. I am Queen. Be calm. They will not hurt your rider.
She paused as Xialanth relayed E'dian's message to the little gold as well. She ruffled her wings once more, not liking the confusion.
They must move your rider to the Infirmary. She swung her head in the direction of the huge cavern opening onto the bowl. Can you make it there, Seth and Xialanth can help you.

Iaslia bunched her hands into fists with frustration. Would that she could do more than simply being a relay! Listening to Nisurath's conversation, Iaslia decided that it was odd indeed to hear only one side of what was being said.
Where are they from, love?
I do not know,not from here. I shall ask. The tiny, pale gold once again directed her thoughts to the tattered bronze on the Bowl's floor. They want to know where you are from.
In the meantime, Iaslia responded as best she could to Phaedon's questions.
"They are Malekith and E'mion. He asks that they keep his rider in sight. Nisurath does not know where they are from yet."

[DeusExMachina]

"You don't just ham-handedly move around unconscious people!" Tamejiv informed testily while he hurried along, looking very much like he'd rather be just about anywhere else in the world. Healers didn't belong in the bowl, see; they belonged in the infirmary. "What happened to them?"

His frown landed upon Iaslia first, as she's the one who came to fetch him and was therefore clearly responsible for this catastrophe, but it was quick to travel around and incorporate everyone. Phaedon he spared a slightly more civil nod, seeing as the other man was obviously a Healer of some sort, but everyone else - including the distraught dragon - was going to get a look that narrowly avoided being an all-out scowl.

"Well, what he wants and what we need to do are at odds, obviously," he answered back to the goldrider, trying to get some read on how badly injured the man truly was. "He needs to be in the infirmary. Where he can be healed. So he doesn't die."

Again, his bedside manner was lacking.

[hrsegrl]

When she said their names Phaedon knew he had not heard of them. Maybe there was another hidden Weyr on Pern? Maybe they were not the last of their kind after all? He could not fathom any other way that they could have arrived here, now. “Malekith is it. Strong name, good for a Bronze...” He was speaking t pass the time that he was going to spend debating on what to do with the dragon first. While he was thinking, the new Master Healer had arrived. He smiled back at the healer who began to make a fuss out of nothing.

“Alright, hold it everyone!” The dragon healing Master was not about to let things get out of hand. “If Malekith feels he cannot leave E'mion than we must find a way to accommodate him. How long do you think the rider will survive if his dragon dies?” With that said he posed a proposition. “Now, the best solution is to get him to the closest dragon weyr to the infirmary. A lower level of course would be best for all involved. Master Tamejiv, I suggest you bring your supplies and a few helpers with you from the infirmary should you need to send back and forth for things.”

A pause followed though it was brief, “E'mion must be moved, there is no doubt of that and his dragon will not be parted from him. If any of you have a better idea, let him or her speak it.” Judging that the healer was not at all thrilled about the situation he predicted the man would protest. E'dian was busy taking care of the rider and he knew enough about healing to make rational and helpful suggestions.

Highly doubting the dragon would even leave to hunt or get himself water, he turned to Iaslia and said much more softly, “I'm sorry to make you and Nisurath relay information” he sighed. “We are going to need a lot of people if my idea is accepted. I need a few of the stronger Weyrling riders to bring meat. Also could we get in touch with the Candidate Master? He could round up some Candidates to bring water from the lake for him to drink. The more water the better. Malekith is not only exhausted, he's dehydrated and famished. Above all of this he is distraught and I won't risk him losing his wits if his rider is out of his sight. A dragon who is that anxious could Between easily and that would be the end of this rescue mission for both of them.” He did not mean for his words to sound so heavy. He was not trying to burden Iaslia or Nisurath but he often thought out loud when he was trying to fix a situation.

[E]

The swirling of the bronze’s eyes had noticeably slowed as his massive bulk seemed to almost shrink into the bowl floor from exhaustion. Every bit of adrenaline he had used to land and call for help has been sucked out of him and he now lay dried on the ground. Every inch of him felt on fire, though he couldn’t tell if the majority was from the thread or the rough landing.

Eyes swirling that slow, pale orange of pain and worry and distress, the bronze had to force himself to take his eyes away from his rider to look toward the pale little gold again. No, they best not harm him. The weariness in his voice could be felt now as he let out a long sigh. It hurt so much just to turn his head in the direction she showed to him.

Tell them to move E’mion first, I will follow… slowly… Shifting his weight made the great dragon open his throat in an agonizing whimper. Getting his feet beneath him, he closed several eye lids as he licked his own lips and fought the dizziness that came. Perhaps I should accept help. Practically falling back over, he let out that piteous whimper again before opening his lids to regard his rider in that pale orange gaze again.

E’mion was born to Southern Weyr, and it was there I chose him as well. We were transferred to Ponaa Weyr. Letting out a sigh, he closed a lid as he watched his rider. We were… transferred because I claimed too many queens.

Turning his head to the gold once again, he gave her a scrutinizing look. But the Ponaa Weyr we were sent to had 3 full grown golds and no little ones…

[LyricalBlue]

Within seconds, both large bronzes dropped down into the bowl and braced Malekith on either side. The short walk to the Dragon Infirmary was a short but very slow one. From her ledge, Nisurath relayed the messages to the rest of her Weyrling Class and in moments all seventeen of her fellow classmates were running towards Phaedon to take whatever orders were needed. At the same time, Tamejiv's assistants came at a trot with a stretcher.

As E'dian followed after Malekith, Iaslia shot a look at Tamejiv that would have had lasers within it had Pern been another time and place. "Malekith will has submitted. Take care of E'mion. They're thread scored. And well, they crashed." She turned her head to Phaedon. "Nisurath has called the Weyrlings. We need to do our daily run anyway. Now it will just be for meat and water. Nisurath will stay in contact with Malekith."

They are from... Southern Weyr before they were from... here. But Malekith says there were three golds. Iaslia shook her head with the wonder of the idea. They were from Ponaa Weyr, but the last time the Weyr boasted three golds was over a hundred turns ago. This was going to have to be handled very carefully and she could sense Nisurath's confusion with the concept. Oh yes, this was going to take a delicate touch. Provided of course that Malekith and E'mion lived. The gold shifted her thoughts toward the bronze again.
Be easy, they will take very good care of your's. I will make sure they do. You must get well so you can support him.