Unsteady Worlds [E'dian]

[E]

^{(((This thread is dated 1 Sevenday after Malekith’s eruption from between, shortly after the Weyrlings have left the Weyr.)))}

E’mion had been drifting in and out of consciousness for what seemed like a lifetime. While he did not find Malekith conscious each time, he did almost always find the strange healer nearby. The man was as confusing as his own words, however. And if it was impossible to get a straight answer out of him, it was harder to get one out of the bronze. His memory already vague was worsened by the pain and wavering consciousness.

Today was finally different. Both bronze and rider were awake and both were starving. Ignoring his own food, he pushed the healer aside to walk his bronze to the feeding grounds himself. E’mion was heavily bandaged, and it made for slow awkward movements across the bowl but he forced the journey upon himself none the less. Malekith too, had to fight his way there, his own steps only a little more certain than his riders.

Making it there after an eternity, E’mion found himself a seat at the base of a nearby tree and nearly collapsed there. Wincing at the pain of everything, he knew several of his bandages would need to be changed. Perhaps the healer had been right and they should have allowed food to be brought to the bronze yet again. A bronze dragon was a proud creature, however, and E’mion would never ask the bronze to swallow that pride.

Letting the dizziness in his head settle, he reopened his eyes to the bright sunlight. His bronze had paled, and his skin seemed almost flakey and loose on his body. What have I done to you, my wonderful Malekith. You look a ghost of yourself.

You have never wronged me mine. The bronze said, laying down alongside the pens. He was not yet ready to make a selection – not after such a walk and not while his rider was so unsteady. It was affecting him too. Look, a bronze comes. He holds himself like a Weyrleader. Malekith lifted his head to the pair gliding toward them and let out a welcoming bugle; far softer than E’mion remembered his great bronze capable of.

[LyricalBlue]

Xialanth answered the welcome with his own brassy baritone, letting the roar ring off the the sweeping walls of the Weyr Bowl. His nearly copper wings cupped the air as the bronze settled easily down on the dusty ground. E'dian lifted his goggles to get a good look at the recovering pair and sized them up appreciatively. Even diminished as he was, Malekith had easily the size and wingspan of Xialanth. E'dian couldn't help but wonder what the beast would look like when he was up to health again. Now he still rather looked like a bunch of patched together meat. No doubt the collective Healers of the Weyr would have a fit over the pair wandering.

Xialanth tucked in his wings and crouched so that E'dian could easily slide down his shoulder. The bronze tilted his head to regard his rider with jewel like eyes.
They hurt, but they do not hurt like we hurt. The Weyrleader slapped the bronze on the leg and then walked forward.
Well, they did not know Gaelle.
The bronze rumbled and dipped his head lower, even two sevendays later, the bronze had not quite recovered his color. Like many in the Weyr, the loss of the only adult Queen had shaken them all to their core.

E'dian pulled off his flying helmet and tucked it under his arm as he strode forward. He knew his days as Weyrleader were numbered and that too, chilled him. In two moons or so, the Weyrlings would return. All their hopes rested with that class; one sickly, small Queen was all that stood between the dragons and extinction. That alone was enough to keep E'dian up a night, and combining that with the fact that it was his daughter's dragon.... and well, the Weyrleader was just not doing so great.

Luckily, his normally intense expression changed little and if there was a time that the Weyr needed its leader it was now more than ever. E'dian stopped, standing beside E'mion and studied Malekith for a long moment.
"If the Healers catch you out here, you might get your hides peeled off again."

[E]

“They can have our hides, these tattered things do us no good except cause use pain and slow us down.” E’mion had watched the man and dragon land and studied the man as he approached. E’mion couldn’t help but agree with his own bronze, that the pair held themselves like Weyrleaders. Looking up at the man from his seated position, he held up a single hand.

“I’ll let you have the choice of dragging a tired man to his feet for proper introductions or settling for a seated handshake, Sir. I’m going to take a guess that you are the Weyrleader here, you certainly hold yourself like one.”

“I would like to thank you and… the Weyr for your kind hospitality.” E’mion was not sure if this was the same Ponaa Weyr they had been stationed at not too long ago, but the shape was the same. It was just… empty. It had a ghost like feeling to it. The question plagued his mind, however, and he couldn’t help but ask. “This… This is Ponaa Weyr is it not?”

[LyricalBlue]

The lanky, intense man dropped down like a bag of tubers beside E'mion. He laughed and shook his head.
"Oh no, you'd better not try anything worse than you already have." After he was down, E'dian offered his hand to the other bronzerider. At the second response he couldn't help but laugh, clearly this man was not from their time. That or his thoughts were muddled, which considering he looked more like a pile of bandages than a man, was understandable. E'dian tapped his shoulder, where his rank cords always sat. "Yes, indeed, Weyrleader. At least for now."

His eyes flicked to the bronze in front of him and he studied Malekith for several long, quiet moments. The arrival of this man might be a blessing indeed. In his characteristic manner, E'dian ran a hand through his hair as he mused. If all went well, which it had to, Iaslia would be the next Weyrwoman. And E'dian could certainly not be Weyrleader.
"You are welcome here as long as you like. I would like to try and persuade you to stay even, once you're back on your feet."

He knew next to nothing about this man and now that he was well enough, or stubborn enough to make a walk like he had, E'dian wanted some answers. They knew who he was and where he had come from, but other than those spare bits, the information was scant indeed. Of course, E'dian had been under strict Healer's orders to let the man recover. There would be enough time for questions later, luckily after a sevenday it seemed that later had finally come.

[E]

E’mion shook the man’s hand, regretting it as the bandages shifted and moved. How often had the healers berated him at his old home for moving far earlier than they liked? Oh well, not staying down was a trait E’mion had been known for in his own Weyr wither it be a fight, a flight or an injury, he never stayed down for long. Listening to the man, he raised his eyebrow in question.

Turning his gaze to Malekith as his bronze lay in the sun simply watching the animals in their pens. He knew his dragon itched to hunt for himself, but E’mion could also feel the pain that kept the bronze down. Just like his rider, Malekith had thought he would make it across the bowl and down a herdbeast just fine – he was a bronze after all. Well at least he made it across the bowl and that contented him for the moment.

“And why would you have me stay?” he asked, before turning his head back to the man to face him. “Malekith is a large bronze and you have few queens –“ No Queens. “- No que…. Wait what?” he found his eyes wide and turning back to his bronze quicker than he liked. His head spun suddenly and he rested his hand on the ground to steady himself.

There are no queens here, I can’t even feel the little pale one. Where have the queens gone E’mion?

The rider blinked at his bronze before turning to the Weyrleader, his mouth agape and his expression speaking every question his head swam with. Finally he managed to stagger out a half question and half statement. “A Weyr who had three full grown, healthy queens is now dwindled down to none?” Catching hold of himself and his emotions, E’mion fought to school his features even as his head swam again. It was impossible to tell if it was coming from himself or his bronze.

[LyricalBlue]

E'dian placed his hand on the man's shoulder as the gravity of their situation sunk in. His brow crinkled with pain for both himself and the other rider. The loss of Gaelle... bright, spunky Gaelle... It was not something he could think on. He would mourn after Iaslia and her class were back. He would mourn when once more a Golden Queen perched atop Ponaa Weyr's fire height. Now, was not the time.
"Easy there. Its been hard news on all of us. After Gaelle's murder I decided to send Iaslia and the rest of her class away to hiding."

His brow crinkled more with the deepening frown. Somehow those holdless murderers had known exactly where Gaelle was going to be. That thought alone chilled him through, even in the bright Southern sun. He had sent the Weyrlings away because he feared that somehow... there was a traitor in the Weyr. Only the bronzes of Ponaa knew of this and right now, with no Queen, a panic seemed inevitable. They only had to hold out for a few months...

"We have only had one Queen for the last hundred turns or so. You've traveled far, friend." Hooded grey eyes studied the other man. He had to hold up, and he had to stay. Ponaa had only four adult bronzes. And one of the was so old he was more green than bronze. E'dian lifted his gaze once more to look at Malekith covetously. A bronze that size... it would do wonders for their stock. He moved his hand off of E'mion's shoulder, conscience of not inflicting any more pain on the other rider than was necessary. Why couldn't things ever be easy?

[E]

E’mion found himself putting his head in his hands as he fought to understand what had just been said. A queen murdered? How did a Weyr let its senior queen even be put in a situation? And the rest in hiding? He could only assume this Iaslia was the last gold rider. What did Malekith say about the queen? A pale little thing?

When he finally lifted his hands, he shook his head and looked the leader in the eyes. “Do you know who killed your queen? How did it happen? And who is guarding your last queen in her hiding?” It was a lot of questions that demanded a lot of information, but it was only the tip of the iceburg that swam through E’mion’s head.

Have they burned the men who killed the queen? Have they shown Justice? What keeps the rest of the Weyr safe from these men? Was that why the Weyr population was so low, because of murders and lack of queens?... the list went on and on.

Malekith raised his head toward the other nearby bronze, his eye swirling orange. Ask him of the other Weyrs. Were the other Weyrs attacked? Can they not send a Jr Queen here to help?

A good point his bronze made, and E’mion relayed those questions as well.

[LyricalBlue]

If E'dian were any other man he would have folded under the barrage of questions. But, he was not Weyrleader without reason. His grey eyes remained calm and focused and he answered each of E'mion's questions in turn.
"It is my fault. The dragons have been dropping off in numbers for many Turns. We are the only Weyr left. And... there has been speculation that... dissidents have been poisoning the dragons. Gaelle, our Weyrwoman had been taking the Queen out of the Weyr to feed."

He paused for a moment to gather his breath, emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He had failed. First and foremost he had to keep the Weyrwoman safe and he had failed. She didn't want him or anyone with her on those outings and fool that he was, he believed Aliath enough to keep her safe.
"She was kidnapped, from what we know they took her by surprise. They took her underground... so we could get no coordinates. Somehow... she tried to escape and they killed her."

His hands tightened to white as they gripped his thighs, the only outward display of emotion. It still didn't seem real. E'dian felt as if he were living some vast nightmare. A few months and Iaslia would be back. Then, he could step down. He could mourn, he could... he could be himself again and leave the running of the Weyr to those that wanted it.
"And no, no justice. We haven't even been able to find them."