A Watery Grave
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Duskdog
Date Posted: 16th April 2025
Characters: N'dhavi
Description: Naldhavi lingers in the flooding caverns too long, and almost pays the price.
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 5, day 5 of Turn 12
The sound of the nearby cavern walls beginning to give way came like a crack of thunder from within the stone, and Naldhavi realized, partway through stuffing some salted meat into his beltpouch, that he may have overstayed his welcome.
The slowly-swelling rivulets of cold water that had only just begun seeping into his well-worn boots as he worked suddenly became a real obstacle, already rushing past his ankles before he could even lunge out into the passageway, whistling for Lurk. When the blue firelizard appeared, Naldhavi reached for him as he ran, intent on tucking him into his shirt for safety, but Lurk squawked and wheeled out of reach.
“I don’t think we have time for this, buddy! We gotta--” Then came the scream -- a real one, high and human -- echoing down the tunnel like a whipcrack. Water. It was coming fast. “Nevermind, I guess!”
He scrambled down the passageway, nearly slipping on the slick floor as icy runoff sloshed over the top of his boots, Lurk screeching and flapping around his head the entire way. Someone sprinted past him -- then another, shouting hoarsely. The path up was narrow, winding, carved long ago with bare hands and desperation. Naldhavi turned toward it, breath steaming in the frigid air, and ran.
He slipped again, this time actually going down and catching himself hard on his elbows. The water chased him, rising so fast it seemed to pulse upward with every breath he took. Around a bend, he saw collapsed timbers -- one of the ceiling supports had given way.
No way through.
Real fear clawed its way up his throat, but he fought it down. He could do this. He could get out. He was _smart_ -- didn’t he always say so? It would be really embarrassing to die because he had been too stupid to find an exit. He doubled back, feet splashing, heart pounding, trying to remember other routes even as people around him began to panic. The smoke-tunnel, maybe. It would be tight, but it sloped upward. He spun toward the lower level entrance --
-- and only vaguely registered Lurk’s immediate, _traitorous_ blink /between/ as a wall of black water came rushing toward them.
It hit him like a charging runnerbeast, force and cold combining to knock the breath from his lungs. His body slammed into stone, his limbs twisting, cloak torn right from his shoulders. He tried to scream but swallowed only water, darkness engulfing everything around him.
He thrashed instinctively, kicking out, arms reaching blindly. His shoulder collided with something solid -- rock, maybe, or maybe another drowning body. He wouldn’t have stopped to check even if he could. He needed _up_, he needed _air_, but he was twisting and spinning, a ragdoll tossed about like a ship in a storm, and no longer had any sense of direction. The water had taken everything -- his breath, his sight, his mind.
His lungs burned. Something sharp scraped his leg. His fingers scraped the ceiling -- or was it the floor? -- and what could he do but shove against it, dragging himself along it, trusting desperately that it led _somewhere_?
Then suddenly there it was: a faint flicker in the blackness.
It was just the tiniest crack of hope in the darkness, but it was all he had. Where there was light, there was _up_, surely.
He lunged for it and struck the wall with his face. Warm blood blossomed in his mouth.
He kicked, kicked harder, until his muscles screamed. One more push…
His hand broke the surface, grabbing desperately until his fingers grasped the ledge of a stone shelf, and used the last of his strength to drag himself up halfway onto it, clinging there like a drowning feline. He gasped, coughing up what felt like half the cavern’s flood, and only then was he able to suck air properly into his burning lungs.
It took a moment before his ears could pick up any sound other than the roar of the water echoing in the caverns, and another moment still before he could force his blurry eyes to focus on anything. But gradually, he became aware of Lurk chittering agitatedly above his head, and a voice trying to get his attention.
“--okay? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
A person -- no, a woman -- in riding leathers stood over him. In one hand she held a full glowbasket -- the beacon that had led him to the surface.
“Your firelizard led us to you,” she said, once she realized he was focusing on her but couldn’t quite form any words, and knelt down to help pull him the rest of the way onto the ledge. “You’re lucky to have him.” Her voice was extraordinarily calm, but friendly, as if she were just casually discussing the weather. He found it soothing, somehow. “Easy now, lad. You’re safe. I’ll get some of my fellows here to help us along, we’ll get you warm and dry and fed, and you’ll be right as rain in no time!”
Fellows? Who?
He must have said the words without realizing it, because she patted him on the back as she helped him up to his knees, and replied, “Why, the riders of Dragonsfall Weyr, of course!”
Lurk landed on his head and cheeped smugly.
Last updated on the April 25th 2025