Meandering through the Moonlight

[M'kel]

Darkness. She hardly even noticed it anymore. It had become as much a part of her as Amisk, the shadow who followed her everywhere. Even candlelight seemed out of place now, causing her to squint and shield her eyes from its glare. Whenever the faint traces of dawn began to bloom across the sky, it seemed perfectly natural to flee its arrival and seek the cool, dark depths of Ikros Weyr. Although these caves were more rough than the ones she was accustomed to, the darkness never changed. It was a constant in her life and, perhaps, even a comfort. In darkness was solitude, peace, and anonymity. Only the few others who walked its shadowy depths might interrupt her isolation, though such times were rare. They seemed to sense, or maybe it was mutual, that if she must be a creature of darkness, she would rather walk such a path alone.

Not that she was ever truly alone. She cast an affectionate gaze over to the brown wher who strode lazily along beside her. They were doing their 'rounds' of the Weyr; down along the river, across the bridge, up the other side. Even the familiar routine of checking the perimeter of the Weyr reminded her how very different this place was from Araelen. In their previous home, she and Amisk would follow a circular path through the Bowl of the Weyr. In this narrow canyon, there really wasn't much to monitor. Nevertheless, the Weyrwoman was no less stringent here than her previous one had been, and the whers on duty each night had to ensure that the outer portions of the Weyr were secure.

"Of course there's no one out here," Amika muttered, her soft voice catching on the sides of the canyon and bouncing back at her before being drowned out by the rush of the river. "No one walks the night but the dead." Amisk gave her a considering look, and Amika found herself shivering at the dark thought. "Sorry," she said in a quieter voice, meant only for her wher. He crooned, a low, warbling sound that filled the night air with tones of concern and uncertainty. Instinctively, she reached down to scratch around his eyes pausing in front of one of the entrances to the Weyr.

As he melted under her caresses, Amika chided herself. She shouldn't continue to harbour such bitterness. It was not Amisk's fault that he couldn’t face the sun, and she would rather live with him in darkness than return to the life she'd had before. It had taken a long time to come to grips with the fact that her Impression had been to a wher, rather than the beautiful dragons who danced among the clouds in a daylit sky. But there were things Amisk could do that none of those frail dragons could. Besides his enhanced sight and smell, he was very strong for his relatively small size, and his pure little heart was untouched by vanity and arrogance. And his love, his unconditional, unceasing love, was the lifeblood that sustained her.

Besides, Amika reminded herself, as she turned her gaze upward. The dayfolk may live under Rukbat's harsh glare, but she got to bathe in the silvery sheen of Pern's two moons. Tonight, they were both full and bright, giving the night an unusual glow and causing the river to sparkle as it rippled along the banks. Although the night was far brighter than usual, it wasn't enough to bother either her or Amisk's dark-accustomed eyes, and so she was able to enjoy their beauty freely. The moons, she thought, as she scritched along Amisk's jawline, they were what made the night worth living for.

[**Auria (etc)**]

Bask rumbled deep in his throat in complaint, and Baryn could feel the bronze wher’s agitation travel up his own spine. The connection between animal and handler still fascinated the dark man, even after all this time. It wasn’t their watch, and the pair should be sleeping rather than patrolling, but since that greenrider had seen robbers up the valley, Baryn had not been sleeping well.

It wasn’t just that the robbers meant that the little group of dragonriders and their weyrfolk weren’t alone in the valley.

It wasn’t even that Baryn had a dark and uncomfortable suspicion that he might even know who these renegades were. And if they were who he feared, once they discovered these caves were now inhabited, no weyrfolk would be safe without a dragon or wher by their side.

What truly troubled his sleep, was that the nightmares had returned.

They had ceased, so suddenly and completely that for some time after bonding with Bask, Baryn hadn’t noticed that they were gone. He’d only noticed that he’d begun to sleep through the night, after turns of being unable to get any real rest. It had taken him some time to realize that the reason he was sleeping was that the grisly visions of his little brother’s body lying broken and bleeding on the scullery floor were no longer haunting his dreamtime.

But now they were back.

He would retire after their guard shift, fully intending to get a decent sleep, the wher curled up nearby on his rough stone couch. As soon as he dropped off, however, the murders would replay. First, his brother being beaten to death by the taskmaster, and then the red rage battle that avenged the boy—and lost him, Baryn, his ear, his finger, and his freedom.

He would wake in a sweat, the echoes of a cry lingering in his mind, uncertain of whether he’d cried aloud or only in his dream. His first thought would be gratitude for the depths of this Weyr, and the fact that he’d managed to find sleeping room far from the other wherhandlers. His second thought would be…escape.

He had to move, to pace, to walk alone. He and Bask would explore, delving deep into the heart of Pern, creating new openings that would intersect mazes of tunnel and cavern. Though most of the wherhandlers would often patrol the valley above the surface, Bask and Baryn chose downward, farther and farther into the depths, for their meanderings. It had been long since either had seen even the light of the Pernese moons.

Some of the deep tunnels were so narrow that he could barely squeeze himself through, and he’d leave a whining and complaining wher behind him while he explored, always following the feel of the bronze back to his side. Others were so vast that the only thing that could reach the ceiling, or the other side, was a distant echo. He’d found an underground lake filled with steaming waters that could be used to vent into the Weyr above for heat and hot water. He’d found great veins of natural glow fungi, enough to light Ikros for generations to come. Each discovery would be charted and mapped anonymously and left in secret where the Weyrwoman would find it.

He had wondered if others were making similar discoveries, but really didn’t care enough to ask.

This night, however, he followed his spirit upward. He needed air.

Night after night of horrid dream, reliving the disasters that changed his life forever, had left him feeling claustrophobic. He wanted the night, the open, and the freedom to, should he so choose…run away.

Bask complained and hung back, deep black eyes squinting in the thinning shadows as they rose toward the surface of the planet.

Baryn laid a hand on the ugly head. “Silly beast, it’s night, it won’t hurt your eyes.”

A vision of two bright gleaming white-gold globes assaulted the handler’s mind. Twin moons, both full, and Bask rumbled in frustration and rattled his wings.

“Moonlight’s not like sunlight,” he said, moving forward, stroking the thick neck of the wher that haltingly walked beside him. “And it will only be for a little while, don’t worry. I just need to breathe.”

Run away? How could he run? Free of the law, free of the hunters that sought him on the Southern Continent, free of the prison hold that had housed him for several turns, Baryn was less free than ever. Even though he could leave this place at will and disappear into the North any time he wished, he could not. Now he was tied to a beast that feared the daylight—how could he travel with Bask? Though Pern was dotted with many cave systems, they were not so numerous that one could find a suitable shelter for every rise of the sun.

Bask whimpered as they exited through a small crack in the wall of the caverns, not far from where the river bent around the cliffs. Ahead and above was a stone bridge that spanned the narrow part of the river. The double moonlight was indeed bright, bright enough to hurt even Baryn’s eyes. For a moment he hesitated, shielding his wher’s eyes with both hands, blinking and squinting in the sudden cold glare.

He debated whether to just return to the darkness, the tunnels that were the pair’s destined haunt for the rest of their lives. He was about to turn back, having decided that Bask’s comfort was more important to him than his own, when the great bronze wher let out a roar and lunged forward. Brush cracked and stones rattled as Bask tore through them with alarming speed.

Intruder! Challenge!

Baryn jumped after him, fear causing his heart to race frantically.

There was movement near one of the larger openings of the Weyr!

There was someone there! The robbers? Was the Weyr in danger!?

[M'kel]

The stars were bright tonight, too. They sparkled like tiny gems in the velvety blackness of a cloudless sky. Out of habit, Amika began to pick out the constellations she'd learned as a child. There was the dragon, its tail arching grandly behind it - and the wherry, cowering before it. She remembered her sisters pointing them out to her, long ago. It had been on one of those nights they'd made a point of taking her out with them, away from the darkness of their home, and introduced her to the beauty of a different kind of darkness. Her three sisters. Like the Dawn Sisters.

And she had always been the odd one out.

Amisk whuffed lightly beside her, and Amika tore her gaze away from the sky in surprise. She had drifted away from herself for a moment, to a time long past, and didn't know if she was grateful or resentful at being returned so quickly to the present.

Her brown wher gazed up at her with gently whirling eyes, tilting his head to the side. His thoughts relayed his confusion, along with an image of his 'handler standing still and seemingly frozen, her mind far from his reach. He nudged at her hand, his warm breath brushing her skin, and whuffed again.

"Was I standing here that long?" she muttered to herself, gazing about her now. They were supposed to be patroling the Weyr, after all. Although the Wherhandlers weren't exactly supervised, she would hate to have someone come upon her daydreaming (or whatever it might be called at night) like some absentminded child.

Suddenly, a roar split the air. Amika jumped backwards in shock, loosing a small shriek of surprise. Worse than being caught by an angry dragonrider, she was being attacked! Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, as she spun round in a circle to confront the source of the roar. Amisk hissed, his head thrashing from side to side, as he, too, tried to locate the threat.

Was this the attack they had been waiting for? The reason the Weyrwoman had them patroling the Weyr every night? Although it had been her occupation for over a Turn now, Amika had never thought about what would happen if such an attack actually arrived. It had become so routine to walk the empty corridors of the Weyr with Amisk that she had forgotten the purpose of that routine. Staring up at the moon and stars now seemed the most foolish thing she could have done, for her eyes were taking too long to adjust to the shadows of the Weyr again. There was something out there, and she couldn't even see it! What was she going to do?

"Amisk?" her voice trembled. But what could her wher do? He would try to defend her, there was no doubt of that, but the thought of her sweet little wher going into battle nearly tore her heart in two. Could they run? But no, there was no time. There was the shape of the attacker, a shadow tearing through darker shadows. It was almost upon them. Amika was frozen with indecision and fear. And then, suddenly, she was on the ground. Amisk had pushed her aside in his rush to put himself between her and the threat. She felt stone scrape her hands and arms, the pain of a rock driven into her knee, and then a wave of overwhelming terror at the realization that Amisk might soon be injured. "No!" she cried, even as Amisk loosed a bugle of challenge and braced himself, his teeth flashing silver in the moonlight and his tail lashing to and fro.

[**Auria (etc)**]

Baryn raced after his wher, adrenaline shoving aside his moment of fear. The long blade he kept hidden under his robe was instantly in his hand, reflecting the moonlight's cold white glare.

Faces flashed through his mind as he shoved aside brush and tried to keep his footing on the loose stones. The men he'd ridden with, ugly of heart, each one more cruel and self-serving than the one before. But one in particular caused his heart to skip a beat, the villain the band called Blunt, because he'd cut off his own left hand in order to escape the law. It was Blunt, whose group Baryn crept away from in the middle of the night when they started talking about kidnapping holdgirls for their pleasure, who was always going on about "moving north to beat the heat".

It was Blunt whom Baryn feared might be behind that band the greenrider had spied.

All of these things flashed through his mind in the few minutes it took Bask to cross the expanse between them and the intruder. The rage, the anger, the sudden feelings of protectiveness for the Weyr, for HIS Weyr, pushed the wherhandler to keep up, bringing him through the last clump of brush right on the bronze's tail.

And then a sound stopped him short.

A bugle. The "intruders" were another wher and its handler!

"NO!" he shouted, grabbing onto Bask with his mind. In return he caught glimpses of the very faces that he'd been fearing, Blunt's in the foreground.

Shards, this was his own fault! Bask had read his own fear, seen the danger in his own mind! And if the huge bronze attacked....

"NO, BASK! FRIEND! FRIEND!" He screamed, hauling back on the animal with all his will.

But Bask had already leapt! With astounding agility for a beast so enormous, he sailed from the ground, roaring in challenge, great teeth bared to strike!

"FRIEND! WHER! F... F... FAMILY!" He had to stop the attack! He sent images of Bask's clutch, his clutchmates stumbling around on the wher hatching ground sands, like an arrow toward the bronze.

As if he'd hit an invisible wall, the bronze checked himself, twisting in mid air.

His momentum spun him around, and Baryn was nearly knocked from his feet by fear, confusion, doubt....

...and as the wher hit the ground--

Pain!

A sickening crunch blasted through the air as Bask landed in a twisted heap, one foreleg bent up and back beneath him.

Searing pain shot through Baryn's shoulder, and he fell in a heap on the ground beside the bronze.

Bask yelped and screamed, thrashing, struggling to get his weight off the dislocated leg. His tail slashed around as Baryn tried to rise, hitting him across the chest, knocking him to his back.

His head struck a rock with a resounding crack, and the world spun around him, but Baryn hung tightly to consciousness.

Bask had rolled, and now lay still, whimpering like an injured canine.

What was happening? His world spun, and he couldn't see clearly. He struggled again to rise, but managed only to shift himself to where he could put a hand on his bronze.

Where was the other wher? It was obviously defending its handler. Would it attack his crippled Bask?

And if it did...

"It's all my fault!" the dark man mumbled past the pounding in his head.