Torrential Rescues (4/6)
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyrhold
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Elsewhere on Pern
NPC Weyr (NPC)
River Bluff Weyr
Seacraft Hall
Writers: Halyonix, Iluva
Date Posted: 15th April 2025
Series: The Perfect Storm
Characters: I'serin, Zilben, Tzanna, Avakian
Description: The Holdless rescues continue with Th'reyos and I'serin trying to help Zilben, Tzanna, and Avakian.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 5, day 5 of Turn 12
An unfamiliar voice. A sloshing sound, behind them.
All three stiffened, but Avakian was the only one who could twist, and
then, suddenly, there stood the tallest man he had ever seen. He
supposed that was a man; his too-huge black suit of drenched leather
lay soaked to his skin, drooping heavily like a ships’ sails from his
arms; a living scarecrow silhouetted against an expanse of darkness
that _also_ appeared to be moving, and… breathing, and then" the eyes.
Huge, shining, storming eyes set in an equally huge head raised up.
Staring at them, through them, Avakian didn't know.
“Almost lost your goods, little man.” The scarecrow smiled warmly and
held out a long golden chain to him. “You dropped this.”
“Thanks, I-” Avakian finally froze. “AHHHH! ZILBEN!”
“Woah. Woah, hey.” The man held his hands up and out in a peace-making
motion. He also took another big step back, for good measure. “It’s
alright, it’s alright. I apologize, I should know better than to go
sneakin’ up on you there. I’m a rider with Dragonsfall. We’re just
here to help get you folks out of this mess, so if-”
A vicious snarl cut through the rain, cutting the words away.
If Zilben wasn’t exhausted, his legs getting sucked deeper and deeper
into the earth’s bosom, and if he wasn’t holding a small child in his
arms, and another child in his fist, and the man’s dragon wasn’t right
there, staring at them with eyes so unnatural he wasn’t sure they were
eyes at all" well, he’d have drawn a blade and tried to cut a few more
things, too.
Instead, he did the only thing he could like this. He roared: “Get
_AWAY_ from him!”
Th'reyos already had. “You got it.”
Behind and above the rider, the dragon’s great head inclined to
_look_, and for a moment the thunder of the sky became thunder in its
monstrous chest, and although the beast moved back, unbeknownst to
them at his rider’s behest, his eyes stormed a color so unpleasant
Avakian somehow understood it was Offense. Hurt. A deep worry. Like a
person.
“Zil-”
“Didn’t take you long to pick that up.” Zilben spat at Th’reyos, wild
eyes fighting for focus. “Didn’t take you long to get here at all,
s’matter o’fact. But then you riders always take _every_ advantage to
be the big heroes, don’t you.” He growled and Tzanna quaked, swaying
precariously in his arms.
Then, like a flash, Zilben caught a familiar sight. A familiar and
newly traitorous sight. Rathandra. Grey eyes trailed back to the
dragonrider. “So, you think you can just come in here, and pick up our
children, pick up our lives, take what bit of goods is ours? _Ours_?”
Th'reyos’ mouth opened, but apparently just for show.
“We all know your kind here. All high and wonderful until you need
something, ‘cause that’s exactly when you _take_. But nothing's really
given with you people, is it? Your help?! It’ll be nothing you take
from us now! Give me that!”
He snatched Vidraliz’s chain out of the brownrider's grasp, nearly
sending it careening out into the mud.
“What is the problem here?” I’serin asked as gently as he could given
the crisis at hand as he approached what seemed to be an altercation
of some sort between a dragonrider and one of the Holdless.
This new voice didn't still Zilben's anger, but rather froze it in
place. The children, tired and terrified, slowly slid into the mud
with an anticlimactic plop while his broken teeth bared in a non-smile
of too much emotion. White flags waving all over his eyes. Who knew
who this was. Who knew what they were selling them to the Weyr for,
what Rathandra and Evanram were telling them. What deal had been
brokered, what these people would come to expect or take from them in
return.
Squinting hard at I'serin, taking in his apparent youth and the vague
impression he could glean of some assumed authority, Zilben’s
breathing was laboured. This time he tried to listen, but was already
coughing on him, wetly at that. “What? And what do you think you can
do about it, boy?”
“We are here to assist, not scavenge what you and your people have
worked so hard to claim,” I’serin said placatingly. “We will take you
somewhere safe, the Weyr, and then you can decide your course
afterward.”
“So you say.” Zilben countered gruffly, still breathing like a bull herdbeast.
I’serin paused, considering. He did not want the Holdless to feel as
though they were being forced. It would go badly for all if so. “We
will take you there, let you rest, recover, and then resupply you for
travel, if that is what you wish. Or…I can request one of my riders
bring some basic supplies and send you on your way now.”
“So---what’s your Weyr getting out of this?” Zilben was surveying the
set up of tents and people relaying between them, the beasts getting
further bogged down in the sludge and mud. “Ain’t none of this one of
your sworn ‘duties’. What is it you want? Hm? You be straight with me,
boy.”
“Your safety,” I’serin answered. “You are correct. The duties of the
Weyr do not cover this scenario. But the responsibility that humans
have to each other does. You may be without a Hold, but that does not
mean you are undeserving of basic human decencies.”
Zilben looked as if he'd just been offered the Lordship of a new Hold,
not his right to basic human decencies. Behind I'serin, he watched
dragons loaded with pale, nervous faces take to the sky, little lives
with little say in any of this hanging in the balance.
His gaze swung back to the man he had no idea was actually
Dragonsfall's Weyrleader, though that wouldn't have meant to him much
all the same. Eager, dutiful, serious" like something right out of a
ballad. “Good.” Zilben conceded finally and pulled the shivering
Tzanna out of the mud like he'd only just noticed she was fetally
curled there. Being invited in, taken in, when under any other
circumstances they'd be thrown or kept out of the mighty Weyr and its
fancy guard was enough to make him laugh, a weak and disbelieving and
delirious sound. He swayed as he cut his eyes at the brownrider still
stood nearby, then, reluctantly, motioned for him to pick up the boy.
“Good. Very good"” He chuckled tiredly, a renewed glint in his pale
eyes, “s'long as you keep your word. We mean to hold you to it.”
Last updated on the April 15th 2025
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