K’brin: Chapter 5, Journal 12 – Weigh Not The Scales Of Justice

Posted on July 21, 2019 by K'brin
  • We hunted turkeys, which were almost unbelievably silly-looking avian versions of wherries, for us and our dragons to eat before our flight back that afternoon.  We landed at a remote wooded area several miles from Woodgate that Thydee said she visits daily.  After some discussion, we agreed to use this as our hidden rendezvous point should Faranth’s Wing return to Carindas.
  • Our dragons were unusually tired from the relatively short and easy flight back from Bygruith Mountain.  ‘Zana said that was because everything weighs slightly more on Varlada than it does on Pern.  Gil had noticed that certain terrain hinted at this, and ‘Zana said that she had first started to suspect when she had seen how plants grow.  Gil also planned to take a flask of air back, to see if it’s thicker/heavier – like the air deep in a mine – or not.
  • When asked, ‘Zana said that the stars here are the same as on Pern – but from a very different point of view. 
  • I had T’ria offer to examine Feth in detail, both to see if there was anything we could do to help the poor scarred beast, and as an excuse to more closely study and document the differences between their dragons and ours.  ‘Zana worked with her to document these differences.  When done, T’ria reported that we could probably heal the hole in Feth’s wing and remove a large number of her scars – but that Thydee had only agreed to let us heal her dragon’s wing.  Removing too many of her old scars might make other native dragonmen suspicious.  T’ria warned that healing the wound in Feth’s wing would a lot more numbweed, sailcloth, and medical thread than we currently had with us.
  • I also had T’ria use the Ring of Voices to listen to Feth as she interacted with our Dragons.  After a while, T’ria reported that Feth sounds pretty similar to ours – but that she communicates with a lot fewer words, and more emotions.
  • N’lan led a couple of my Wing riders in cooking some Pernese food in Findmar’s kitchen while the rest of us talked. 
  • When asked, Findmar confirmed that his door was Harper Blue because that’s the heraldic color of the Lorekeepers as well.  This continuity across tens of centuries, across countless generations, and across two whole worlds absolutely delighted me. 
  • Findmar pleaded ignorance when I asked more about the Sapphire Masters, or other groups of people with special abilities.  He suggested that we ask in Kirengar, since that’s where Phrenium is mined, or in Galatia, since it was the heart of the old Sakarian Empire and much noble blood and wealth remained there after the Great War.  Some of the oldest libraries are there, as well.
  • When asked, Findmar said that we should probably visit Galatia next.  They have the most music schools, and musicians across all of Varlada share a kinship with one another – much like dragonriders, even those from different Dominions.  Thydee said that we should probably travel there in our Carendi dragonrider uniforms, since Carindas and Galatia are strong allies and it isn’t unheard of to see each other’s dragonriders in their skies.
  • Findmar said that there are too many different types of special stones in the Dominions to list.  A very common and inexpensive – but useful – one, for example, is one that always points in the same direction.
  • When asked, Findmar confirmed that small amounts of precious metals and jewelry should make good trade items throughout the Dominions.  He traded me good quantities of the cooking spices from his kitchen for a small piece of silver jewelry, as well.
  • After dinner, I sent L’nos and V’dos to keep Thydee company – and to get her advice on passing as Carindi dragonmen, particularly in Galatia.
  • Findmar showed me his beautifully-bound, jewel-encrusted copy of “Herald The Dawn” later that night.  One of his mentors had given it to him, a precious gift since Scribes will craft only one such elaborately illuminated text in their entire lifetime.  A truly gifted Scribe might make a handful.  Therefore, only their most valuable texts are bound and illuminated in this manner.
  • I stayed up late that night, making quick sketches of some of the most clever illumination – and taking careful notes on this revered text.
  • “Herald The Dawn” clearly demonstrated that Carindas was gradually evolving toward a morality more similar to my own, to that of their long lost Children of the Rebellion.  It argued eloquently that morality isn’t just an invented concept, a way for the strong to make the weak obey.  Instead, morality has arisen because it benefits society as a whole.  I found it especially interesting that the Herald of Dawn was careful to point out that core morality is not specific to any culture, and that one should never, ever confuse political or religious ideologies with morality. 
  • We were packing up the last of our gear the next morning when Thydee said she saw a Carindi dragonrider patrol in the distance.  Suddenly realizing I didn’t have time for the long-winded goodbye speech I had been working on in my head, I bear-hugged Findmar and then he ran – careful to always remain in the shadows of the giant trees.
  • Faranth’s Wing scrambled, and burst clear of the tree line while the patrol was still some distance away. 
  • It looked like a Wing of eight dragons: a Queen, a Brown, two Blues, and four Greens.
  • I made certain everyone had the correct visualization, and then gave the order to jump between. 
  • The jump between worlds took about a minute and three seconds again.
  • It was hard to put into words, but the world we had arrived at just felt right.  The light was just the right color, the air felt and smelled like it should, and we could feel in our dragons’ movements that it was easier for them to stay in the air.
  • I felt a spike of panic when I saw L’nos was missing from our formation, but Valenth said he was on his way.  Senranth burst from between about fifteen seconds later. 
  • L’nos said the foreign Queen had tried to stop them from jumping between. 
  • The land of the Southern Continent was like a raisin, with lots of crosscut valleys – and not all of them running toward the sea.  Some of the mountains in the distance looked like the kind that we don’t use for Weyrs because they rumble too much and their hearts are too hot.  The land was obviously Thread-scored, but the native plants were quickly growing back – even the trees.  N’lan said that these trees grow like weeds, which is useful for recovering from Threadfall, but that their wood is completely useless for woodworking.
  • Someone had built a small, very defensible fortress with six catapults and four ballistae at the foot of the mountain.  It had two small watchtowers, from which hung two banners with unusually complex heraldry on them.  Neither I nor my dragonriders recognized it.
  • A deep horn sounded when we were spotted, and soldiers ran to man the defenses with speed born of practice. 
  • Quickly discussing our options, ‘Mala suggested that Faranth’s Wing adopt a spiral holding pattern while she flew ahead to speak with whoever was in charge of the fortress.  Since we knew that Lord Valkran had been heavily involved in the building of siege weapons a few seasons earlier, she thought she had good odds on there being at least a few people from Igen Weyr territory at the fortress who might recognize her.
  • We watched nervously as Jenrith flew toward the fortress, its siege weapons obviously tracking the Green but not firing.  She landed outside of the fortifications, seemed to take forever walking past the four levels of earthworks, and then disappeared inside.  What felt like a lifetime later, she sent, “The Commander welcomes you to Syfrin Valley Outpost.”
  • We landed nervously well within range of Syfrin Valley Outpost’s siege weapons and walked up to the fortress proper, where we were greeted by Captain Volden.  T’ria and I could both sense that Volden didn’t like us literally just popping in from nowhere unannounced and uninvited, but he was polite to our faces.  He said most of their troops were quartered at a base hidden a couple miles south of the Outpost, and that Commander Mordecan was on his way from there now.
  • Commander Mordecan didn’t seem surprised by our arrival at all.  In fact, it felt like he thought it was inevitable.  He greeted us politely, and offered us hospitality.  When he asked why we had come, I bluntly answered that we had come in search of crystals.  I was surprised when he immediately nodded, and agreed that he might be able to help us out with those.  He reiterated his offer of hospitality, including herdbeasts for our Dragons, and sent some of his braver soldiers to help us remove our dragons’ gear and tack.
  • The deep horn sounded again while we were tending to our dragons.  Men on the watchtowers had spotted an unfamiliar Wing of dragons approaching.  Thinking quickly, I started putting the tack back onto Valenth – and ordered ‘Zana up to the fortress with Kaliseth so we could communicate directly with Commander Mordecan.
  • As soon as ‘Zana reached Commander Mordecan, he told her to relay, “Dragonriders, clear my skies!” 
  • A Brown, two Blues, and four Greens flew into sight a few moments later.  I relayed through Valenth an order to land immediately and, when they didn’t comply, used my Talent to turn the order into a harsh command.  Not one of them responded.
  • The four Green Dragons dropped into steep dives, and bombed the area in front of Syfrin Valley Outpost with ceramic pots that shattered and billowed smoke when they hit the ground.  This helped hide the Carindi dragons from the Outpost’s siege weapons.
  • The two Blue dragons flew in close to the Outpost and flew acrobatically, very effectively drawing the weapon crews’ attention. 
  • This allowed the Brown dragon to swoop in, largely obscured by the smoke, to breathe fiery death on a stretch of wall and one of the ballista crews.
  • I watched with horror as a barbed ballista bolt hit one of the Green dragons in the wing sail, and it rolled in midair to rip the bolt out with its own teeth.  It then struggled, dark ichor smearing down its wing, to rejoin its wingmates.
  • Another Green was knocked from the sky by a catapult load of something that shimmered in the air like ice.  Whatever it was dug into her skin, especially her relatively vulnerable wings, to tear progressively larger and larger wounds until she crashed fatally into the ground.
  • Mordecan fearlessly coached his weapons teams, and worked with one of the catapult teams to hit the deadly Brown dragon with a load of giant gravel coated with boiling tar.  It screamed in horrible agony as the flesh along its right side instantly began to cook and blister.
  • With the Brown dragon down and Mordecan leading, the weapons crew switched to specialty loads and started letting the dragons get a lot closer – and sometimes inflict casualties – in exchange for being able to hit them.  They made quick work of the rest of the Carindi Wing with a combination of four-bladed broadhead and barbed arrows shot from the ballistae at close range.
  • The Sakarian troops fought to the very end to a number.  Not one of them even tried to retreat or surrender. 
  • More furious than I had ever been in my life, I ordered T’ria to find the enemy Queen.  She was responsible for this carnage and there would be a reckoning if I found her.  “Find the enemy Queen!  If she’s here, we’re going to pull her from the sky!”  Unfortunately, T’ria couldn’t sense much of anything with the dead and dying, friend and enemy alike, around us.
  • I felt Valenth mentally recoil the moment I thought and said those words.  Going against dragon instinct, Daena and I had trained Valenth to resist a Queen dragon’s commands – but asking him to attack one was too much.  For the first time in my life, I could vaguely sense thoughts burbling within his mind but Valenth wouldn’t share them with me.
  • I should have ordered my Wing to search the dead Sakarians for equipment, or at least insignia.  I should have ordered one or more of my wingriders into the air, to make certain that the Carindi Queen hadn’t come to Pern and was still lurking nearby.
  • Instead, I spent the precious hour immediately after the battle getting my dragonriders calmed down, or at least focused enough to follow orders, and off the battlefield.  Mordecan sent word that we were welcome to billet at the hidden garrison nearby.
  • I ordered my dragonriders to continue gently exercising their dragons, to help warm them up after the deep cold of a long time between and to give the riders something to do.  Later that afternoon, we gave them the blood and entrails from most of the garrison’s stock of herdbeasts.
  • L’nos warned me that it was too soon to start talking to my dragonriders, so I spent some time trying to soothe Valenth.  He said he just wanted to go back home to Ista Weyr, and roll around on the soft sands of the hatching grounds until he was nice and warm again.  It nearly broke my heart to know that this wasn’t all that he was feeling, and that he was still hiding his thoughts from me.
  • Marshall Rojer introduced himself when he had the time, and assured us that we were welcome guests – and that we could request anything we needed.  He eagerly accepted my offer to play for his troops at dinner that night.  Their morale was almost as low as that of my dragonriders and dragons, so I gently used my Talent to bolster their morale.  It felt strange to use my Talent like this outside of Ista Weyr.
  • My music and Talent noticeably improved the morale of the small garrison, but it made me heartsick to hear several soldiers talking with their compatriots about how they felt so dirty and inhuman after killing dragons that they didn’t know how they could go home at the end of their rotation.
  • The next morning, the air for miles around Syfrin Valley Outpost was filled with the stench of scorched flesh as the soldiers burned the Carindi dragons using giant bonfires.
  • Most of my dragonriders were badly shaken by what we had experienced: 
    • T’ria didn’t know our mission would be this hard, and wasn’t certain she had the strength to keep doing this.  The thought of having to order our dragons to fight other dragons was abhorrent to her, easily the hardest thing she had ever had to consider doing.  Selenath has a lot of emotional influence over T’ria, so this answer didn’t surprise me much.
    • L’nos said that Senranth hadn’t thought it was our place to fight and was already starting to forget about the battle the day before.  L’nos himself, however, admitted that he was pretty badly rattled.  We’d had Bitran odds thus far, but he felt like our luck couldn’t possibly keep holding out.  Not long enough o see us through the entire mission.
    • N’lan was deeply shaken because he thought he might have been able to talk Torinth into fighting in self-defense, but this wasn’t self-defense.  This was war.  I had never seen him so shaken before.
    • ‘Zana was deeply upset that this battle had taken place on Pern, not Varlada.  She could much more easily accept dragons fighting over Sakaria because it wasn’t her home, but a bloody dragon battle on Pern didn’t sit well with her at all.  “Different places, different rules.”
  • L’nos warned me that we should probably expect a few transfer requests off Faranth’s Wing once we got back to Ista Weyr. 
  • L’nos also volunteered that the enemy Queen rider must have watched Senranth’s mind when they were about to jump between and stolen the visualization point.  She probably hadn’t followed because Gold dragons are still incredibly valuable, even on Varlada.
  • L’nos pointed out that Commander Mordecan was probably sensitive about dragons and dragonriders, so I sent Gil to speak with him that afternoon.  Gil did well very well, and returned later that afternoon and said that we were welcome to take whatever crystals we needed.  They had plenty, and the crystals belonged to the people of Pern.
  • The cave beneath the outpost was amazing and otherworldly.  It was huge, probably larger than the hatching caverns at Ista Weyr, and filled with angular crystals going this way and that. Most were four or five feet long, but some of the largest were the size of dragons!  Gil explained that most of these crystals were selenite quartz, and that the incredible heat and humidity of the cave would make new ones and keep them all slowly growing, essentially forever.
  • Eventually, Gil spotted some six-sided gold-colored crystals about six inches long and four inches in diameter.  He was pretty certain these were the Zamruda stones.  When I reached out with my Talent, I gasped.  I could feel life within them, much like I could dimly perceive life pooled in a firelizard egg.
  • L’nos pointed out that we could fly back to Ista Weyr in about eleven hours, without going between.  I spoke with my dragonriders, and almost all of them were in favor of returning home as soon as possible.  Their dragons, in particular, wanted to sleep in the comfort and privacy of their own weyrs.  I wanted to remain behind to search for the enemy Queen, just in case she had made the jump between to Pern, but acquiesced for the benefit of my Wing. 
  • ‘Zana and I were a little concerned about running into late season summer storms over the ocean, but our luck held.  Tria’s Selenath and M’din’s Faracath sprained muscles during the long flight, but we all made it home safely and were greeted warmly by a rainbow of dragons upon our return.  We were mobbed by dragonriders and weyrfolk when we landed, and couldn’t get free until B’dir came, hugged me, and led us in, gently pushing our way out of the exuberant crowd.
  • G’mar met with us briefly to congratulate us, and tell us that we would have a formal debriefing the day after tomorrow.  The day after that is Threadfall, and he firmly expects me to take my family on a vacation outside of Ista Weyr.  I also offered my dragonriders my heartfelt congratulations; the trip to Varlada had been more difficult than any of us had expected, but we had all made it – and returned with Zamruda stones in victory.  I couldn’t have been more proud.
  • About halfway across the bowl, Seliana and the twins caught up with me and I was briefly buried beneath people again.  I spent some time with Kevlen while Shireya pestered Valenth with question after question after question.  Frustrated, the giant Brown eventually stopped wallowing on the warm sands of the hatching grounds to return to our Weyr so Shireya could see for herself that he was okay.  It pained me a little to see that Valenth was more affectionate and more communicative with Shireya than me.
  • Seliana stayed over that night, and we didn’t even try to kick Shireya and Kevlen out.  We were lucky to force them to sleep in my guest room, instead of in our bed.  I lay awake a long, long time that night.  I kept thinking about all of the things we had seen and done, and desperately hoping that I had made the right decisions.  Now that I was finally alone with my thoughts, I could admit how much the wedge I had driven between myself and Valenth pained me.  And, in the long, lonely hours of the night I pondered Mordecan. He had killed dragons, but they were enemy dragons who immediately attacked his Outpost. The only reason they hadn’t attacked Faranth’s Wing was because we were harmlessly on the ground and because we were wearing Carindi uniforms.  He had fought in defense of Pern.  And he had ordered us from his skies not just for fear of us being hit by friendly fire, but to preserve our honor as dragonriders.  He was a hero, and I hated him for it.
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