A Bad Feeling

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 30th December 2019

Characters: R'fal
Description: R'fal takes an opportunity to leave the Weyr unnoticed...
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 13, day 29 of Turn 9
Notes: Mentioned: Corowal, J'ackt, N'vanik (not by name), L'exan

Rain poured down in warm sheets, drenching the dragons and riders
arriving for the Turn's End celebrations, or departing to visit friends
and family elsewhere. The sky was dark and overcast, but cheerful yellow
light spilled out from weyrs and the entrance to the dining cavern. Even
from his own weyr high up on the cliffs, R'fal could hear shouts and
singing, the distant sounds of hundreds of people celebrating the new Turn.

He watched the rain from just inside his weyr, the drops spattering on
the stone inches from his boots. The ledge was slick and shiny with
running water, the air humid, though less sweltering than it had been
earlier.

Feeling the gentle nudge of a dragon's snout in his back, he turned to
scratch Marlath's eye-ridge with a wan smile. "Hey. You nearly pushed me
out into the weather."

}:You're sad.:{ The brown's deep rumble vibrated against him. R'fal
could feel both pleasure, from their closeness, but worry, also. }:You
could go down with the others. Then you'll feel better.:{

R'fal shook his head. **I don't feel like it.**

He'd visited his family earlier in the day, each one in turn. His sister
had been preparing for some big celebration at Emerald Falls, a maid
chasing after her to try and coax her short curls into a ladylike style.
She'd been delighted to see him and even more so when she saw the gift
he'd brought - an almost-new pair of trousers, practical and
hard-wearing. He'd been relieved that the lovely new dress she wore, in
the Weyr's colours, hadn't changed her mind about her favoured attire.

But he'd not been invited to the Hold's party, and besides the great
hall held painful memories. While his sister excitedly pointed out the
high table where the Lord Holder's family would sit, laden with gleaming
tableware and sparkling wine glasses, he couldn't help but picture Lord
Corowal sitting in the judge's seat during their father's trial.

His mother had been hard at work when he'd got to his uncle's cothold,
helping his aunt prepare the modest but no less satisfying Turn's End
feast that the family would share with their workers. The scents of
roasting meat, warm bread and pastry had met him as he entered the
cothold with his little brother, who would spend a few days there before
returning to his fostering with Holder Galveden.

Then he'd been in his mother's embrace, and shaken hands with his uncle
who was bursting with pride to have a dragonrider visit at Turn's End,
and the children had rushed past him in their delighted haste to see
Marlath. Someone had handed him a glass of a fruit drink with a kick of
spirits - he was one of the grown men now - and just for a moment, he'd
felt as though he was part of a family again, as if the last Turn had
never happened.

But then, he'd been dragged off to the back yard by his two older
cousins, who'd started excitedly questioning him on how he was going to
spend the evening at the Weyr, and teasing him about wine and lusty
greenriders and naked bathing, and through his blushes he realised that
they thought he was a man of the Weyr now, too. They weren't expecting
him to stay. Why should he, when he'd miss the wild orgies they were no
doubt imagining?

**I want to be here,** he longed to protest. **I'm still one of you!**
But he didn't say anything, and then he'd counted the places at table,
and when the clouds gathered, sprinkling the playing children with rain,
and the light started to fade in the sky, he'd said that he'd better be
getting back to the Weyr.

Now he looked down on the revels below, and all he could think of was
his father, and how he was spending Turn's End. Would they work him
today, or was he locked up? Chained? Was he warm, did he have enough to eat?

Was he wondering if his son would come for him tonight?

As he gazed at the sky, a group of three dragons, brown and two greens,
emerged from the heavy clouds in a V-formation, bugling cheerfully to
the watchrider. The visitors had barely begun their descent before a
blue appeared in their place. Whoever had the ill luck to draw watch
duty tonight would have a hard time keeping up with the comings and goings.

Then the idea hit him like the cold shock of /between/, and remained
like the shivering sick feeling in his belly that came in the last
minutes before the Wing formed up to fight Thread. In its wake came
Marlath's unease, as he understood only a breath later than his rider did.

}:I don't like it.:{

But now the idea had come to him, he couldn't just forget about it.
**Marlath, with all the riders bringing in guests, and going to
celebrate at other Weyrs, no-one will notice where we go. Zith won't
notice.** He turned away from the ledge and hurried past his dragon to
fetch down the still-damp riding straps from their hook. **And if he
doesn't, he can't tell his rider, and _he_ can't tell the Weyrleader...**

}:We don't know that.:{

**We have to try.** He dumped the straps, ran back for his cold-weather
clothing, his warmest jacket and fur-lined boots. **This could be our
best chance. The guards should be celebrating too, they'll be
distracted, and it'll be dark, the clouds will cover the moons.**

Marlath watched him dress, his eyes glowing gold and orange like flames,
then lowered his neck reluctantly so R'fal could fit the straps.

}:I have a bad feeling about this.:{

A cold trickle of ice ran down the young brownrider's spine, the hairs
rising on the back of his neck. He'd heard those words before. A
moment's thought brought back the memory of L'exan, speaking to him on
the beach when he'd been only a weyrling.

**If your dragon says anything like 'I have a bad feeling about this,'
it's worth listening...**

For a moment, his hands hesitated over the buckle of the wide strap that
went under Marlath's belly. He could stay. No-one would think worse of
him; they wouldn't think of him at all, in fact. He'd be an
insignificant wingrider, following orders, obeying the law. No-one would
expect him to go through with this.

No-one, except the one person who mattered.

He pulled the strap tight, slid the buckle pin through the hole in the
leather. **We'll just take a look. There was a wood down the hill to the
west on the map, where I can watch from cover. If it's too dangerous,
I'll come back. I promise.**

}:I still don't like it.:{ But Marlath's love and trust for him didn't
falter, and he rose and walked out of the weyr, raindrops quickly
soaking the straps and trickling down his hide in streams that glittered
in reflected light from the other weyrs. R'fal pulled on the jacket and
helmet and wrapped a scarf around his neck, feeling himself starting to
sweat in the muggy air. Best to go quickly, before he lost his nerve.

He took a deep breath, and walked out into the rain.

Last updated on the January 4th 2020

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A Bad Feeling