Path to Heaven [NIA]

[Reky]

(Mid-Autumn, 6th Turn, 11th Pass.)

Thread had risen on the horizon with its usual, slow dependency. The Weyr came to life with its usual business. Straps were tightened and leathers were donned. Firestone was passed among the riders as they prepared themselves and their dragons for battle. Death hung in the sky as silver rain and all of them knew it, but yet they rode out to face it.

Night was falling. Fighting Thread in the dark was a beast all its own. In the sunlight and the glare of the Red Star, Thread sparkled and shone like fine jewelry, bright even behind the goggles. At night, it was nearly invisible, save for the flashes of orange flamelight from the rest of the wing. The soldiers relied more on their gut instincts. The ground crews prepped for more infestations.

Death came with the night, but still, the dragons of Dalibor would fly against it.

Some, though, would have never known how close that death could be. The fear had faded; they grew habitual in their ways and felt nigh invincible, like the Thread couldn't touch them even if it tried. R'fus and Eondith, rising into the sky with the rest of their Wing, were quietly confident as they always were. A few hours of hard riding and they'd be back in their own weyr, shedding their sooty gear. That was how it always went. Maybe Kio would be waiting for R'fus - he always liked that.

High in the air, though, in the heat of the Fall, something went wrong. Both Eondith and R'fus were hot and full of adrenaline. Their heads pounded with the focus of the fight, and they moved as one, even if R'fus' mind was not as swift as it once was. The fellis made him more relaxed, and on certain nights, he preferred that to being sharp. It was selfish; irresponsible. And when the straps that held him to his dragon began to loosen, slowly but surely he noticed his folly. A simple slip of the mind; a mistake. They weren't tight enough, but he had thought they were when he checked back on the ground.

The panic crept up on him. Eondith needed firestone and swung his head around to get it. R'fus supplied it but the straps were getting looser. He seemed to hover over the saddle, threateningly to float free.

Thread coming, Eondith said. They'd be the ones in flaming range when it fell to their level. He saw it in the spark of another dragon's fire.

R'fus groped for the strap that had flown free; it fluttered out of reach.

No-- Wait. Not us. It wouldn't line up. They needed to go between. Can you see?

But R'fus wasn't looking. Eondith kept flying and the man couldn't get the straps.

I can't see it, Eondith said. Then, all at once, everything fell apart. R'fus and his blue braced for between. The tangle of Thread fell on Eondith's wing. He shrieked and jolted in the sky. R'fus was knocked clean free from the straps.

In the split second before it happened, R'fus could only think about the straps coming loose. Eondith could only think about pain. R'fus would have been the one to think of the place in the sky they needed to be, to bring them back out of the dark, but he wasn't. He was thinking about the straps.

Eondith disappeared from underneath him.

For a brief, heartwrenching moment, R'fus knew it was all his fault. Then, the agony set in, and he fell.

In the black of the new night, Rufus' body was rigid with pain. The wind whisked his breath straight out of him; he couldn't scream. He thought, maybe, that he would fall to his death, and he wanted that. He wanted it desperately - wanted to feel his bones shatter like his heart and shut his mind off with a single snap. But sometime in the air - he couldn't tell when, if he had fallen for a second or a day or a Turn - something caught him, something pliable that didn't break him, and he tumbled with it instead.

Rufus rolled, midair, along Onth's wing, threatening to fall again. "Dad!" Fe'an screamed. "Dad!" And he held tight to his own straps, for when Rufus tipped off the edge of the dragon's sail, Onth rolled deftly, catching the man on the underside instead. Briefly, the three fell together, until Onth could grasp Rufus in his human-like claws and fly him back to the Weyr.

Eondith is gone. We have the rider.

---

He was on the ground, on his own feet, and he was alive. His chest felt like it was caving in and the only thing he could do was double over and scream.

"Dad," Fe'an urged. Panic choked his voice. He pulled Rufus along with him. Fe'an gripped at the sooty riding jacket. On the shoulder was the wingrider's knots, dyed the color of Eondith's hide.

Rufus bellowed and shoved Fe'an away. It was a struggle to get him into the infirmary; his father fought tooth and nail to get away. At one point he switched his tactic and tried to wrap Fe'an's arm around his neck, and Fe'an froze in shock. But Rufus went back to struggling, and Fe'an to dragging, and an errant elbow had split the skin on his cheekbone by the time he had got his father into the healer's.

Nothing that came out of Rufus' mouth was coherent. Nothing was words; all of it was primal, animalistic, and heartbreaking. He sobbed and screamed and yelled. He clutched at the doorframe but Fe'an muscled him through. He broke free and pulled a shelf to the ground. Glass shattered. A cart was kicked over; the implements on the tray clattered on the stone floor. For a moment, Fe'an simple stood and watched him - saw his humanity diminish and die, saw him cry and snarl. He slammed his fists and head into the wall. The healers flocked in the corner, frightened, and When Rufus rushed through beds and carts for a knife on one of the tables, Fe'an ran to him and held him back.

"Eon--" Fe'an said over Rufus' thrashing form. The name stuck in his throat. "His dragon died. Please--" Rufus loosed a terrible, raw scream.

"Help me, shardit!" Fe'an demanded, and three of the men there came out and overpowered Rufus, kicking and screaming, down to a bed. A woman fumbled with a bottle of fellis, trying to lace it into a small cup of wine. Her hands shook. Fe'an pushed her out of the way and took the bottle.

"Dad," Fe'an said, pinning R'fus to the bed with his forearm. With a hand he held his jaw in place. "Dad." With the other he poured the fellis into his father's mouth. More seemed to spill down his chin and cheek.

"Sir, that's too much--" said one of the healers.

"Shut up," Fe'an snapped.

---

Fe'an put in for time off from his wing drills. He offered to fly Thread at least, but he was given that off, too. He spent nearly twenty-four hours of each day at his father's bedside. The few hours he left were only to eat, feed his dog, and nap. He rarely slept a full night.

For more than a sevenday, he went on like this. Rufus had frequent nightmares. When he did wake, he seemed empty. He'd sense someone over him, and quietly murmur, "Kio?" but Fe'an would correct him.

"No, dad, it's me, Fe'an," he'd say. Rufus would fall asleep again.

Once, he woke and thought that Fe'an was Eondith. Fe'an hadn't the heart to correct him, so he just hushed him and told him to sleep.

Eventually, Rufus was able to stay awake for longer periods of time. He never spoke about Eondith, never asked, and Fe'an never brought it up.

"I've been here the whole time," Fe'an told him calmly.

"Didn't need to be," said Rufus.

"I know."

---

Then, one day, late in the evening, Fe'an ventured out into the bowl. The autumn wind was cold and cutting. He could feel Onth watching him from a rock on the lakeside, and his dog, Willy, ran out to meet him with a wagging tail. "Down, Willy. Heel," said the master, and the canine duly trotted behind.

"Stay," Fe'an said, and pushed through the heavy wooden doors into the wherhandlers' caverns. It smelled musty; the air was thick and dark. The silt and mildew scent from the underground pool pervaded the far reaches of the tunnels, especially when it grew cold and the water inside was warmer than the air.

He strode to Kio's door and pounded on it.

"Hey," he barked, and when the door finally opened, he pushed himself inside.

"The good news is that they think he's only just got addicted because of this. They won't take him off it because 'that would just be cruel. He's been through so much pain.'" Fe'an pressed his lips together and looked straight at the bluehandler. Hate roiled in his gut. "He wants to see you."

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