The Challenge Demands Satisfaction [A'zael]

[Zen]

10th Pass, 6th Turn, 8th Month
Turn 2761, Late Summer

Rau and Pallath had both been seriously hurt this Fall. His wingsecond, his best friend, his brother, had not been able to attend the following Wing meeting, nor the Flight meeting after, and A’zael had not yet had time to see to Rau’s condition. Zenelle was some small comfort, at least, ensuring him that Pallath would recover in time. The dragonhealer did not have that same haunted, somber look that she’d had when D’van’s poor brown had taken the worst hit A’zael had ever seen a dragon live through. Pallath would fly again, would rejoin Gale Wing, given enough time.

Finally, after a long day, dark had fallen and A’zael hurried to the infirmary to check in on R’get. The first healer he met frowned at him as he asked about his brother, “He is resting, Weyrleader. It would be better for him not to be disturbed.”

“Then I won’t disturb him. I just want- I need to see him,” A’zael responded with a touch of desperation in his tone.

The young woman eyed him, but sighed, relenting, “Just for a moment. Come with me.”

He followed her to Rau’s bedside and drew in a sharp breath at the bandages covering his chest. The healer woman touched his arm lightly and spoke softly, “It looks far worse than it is. They were not deep, fortunately… there was just… a lot.”

A’zael didn’t even look at her, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Rau in such horrible shape. It certainly did look bad. Very bad. But if the Thread hadn’t managed to get far, to… to burrow much before…. He reached out and brushed his hand over Rau’s where it rested at his side, and was surprised when his brother’s eyes flickered open to stare blearily over at him with some amount of confusion. “Rau…,” he breathed, emotion choking any other words back from his tongue.

Rau gave him a lopsided half smile, half grimace, his voice slurred and rough, “Bout time you came to see me. Some brother you are.”

He managed a short, soft laugh at that, “Yeah… I’m really terrible, I know.” He grasped Rau’s hand in both of his in complete and utter relief that he was alive and talking. Rau gave his hand a reassuring squeeze in response.

His brother’s smile faltered, “I… I don’t know what happened, Azzy…. One moment… one moment Bruth was there above us and then… there was just Thread….”

A’zael stiffened at the name, “... Bruth?”

Rau’s eyes fluttered closed again, the effort of speaking through the haze of whatever he’d been given for his pain clearly wearing him out, “Mm… I swear they’d been… he was right there….”

“Weyrleader,” the healer spoke again, still softly, but firm, “I really need to ask you to leave now. You can come again in the morning.”

Numbly, A’zael let go of his brother’s hand and stepped back, “Yeah… I’ll… I’ll do that.” Rau already seemed to be asleep, so he didn’t bother speaking to him again, but let the healer walk him out. One moment Bruth was there above us and then… there was just Thread…. K’rin wouldn’t have…. A’zael felt as if a gaping pit had suddenly opened up in his stomach as he considered the possibility that K’rin had let this happen, and the more he thought about it on the way back to his weyr, the more that pit filled up with a burning fury.

A’zaelmine? Fath sensed his anger, the bronze’s tone edging into a growl even though he clearly had no idea just why his rider was so upset.

Tell Bruth I want to see his rider in my weyr. Now. He heard Fath relay the order.

Bruth’s wantstocomeinthemorning-

NO! He stopped outside his door, Tell him NOW, Fath. Make sure he understands. That is an order, not a request. Perhaps he should have waited until the morning. Perhaps he should have spoken to Rau more first. Perhaps he should have let his anger burn out at least a little before risking unleashing it all raw and untamed on the older bronzerider. But right now he really didn’t care.

He pushed into his weyr, his door slamming shut behind him, and paced. That sick bastard. Was he so threatened by a greenrider having authority over him that he would really be willfully negligent during Threadfall in order to get Rau hurt, or worse? Knowing his actions might cause others besides his intended target to get hurt as well?

Hecomes. Fath informed him, shifting on his ledge, a low growl rumbling in his throat. A few moments later Bruth was landing, and A’zael stalked his way across the weyr to where K’rin had dismounted.

“Just what is so important it couldn’t wait until morning, Weyrleader? Today’s Fall was-”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you did not let Thread hit my br- your Wingsecond on purpose,” in a near snarl, A’zael interrupted the man’s impudent questioning.

That seemed to give the older man pause, and in the glowlight that lit his night darkened weyr, A’zael couldn’t be sure whether he saw the man’s mouth twitch in the slightest smile or not. There was no trace of a smile on his face when he spoke, as though he was offended by the accusation, “I know you must be upset, Weyrleader, but it is hardly my fault if the greenrider can’t handle himself during Fall. Perhaps if they were not allowed to fly beyond their abili-”

A’zael’s fist met the other bronzerider’s jaw as he finally reached the man, sent him reeling back against his dragon. Bruth snarled and so did Fath. “Liar!” A’zael spat, as Bruth lowered his head, fangs bared, to protect his rider from any further attack, “Admit it! Admit it now and I will allow you to retain some dignity as a dragonrider. Admit it and I’ll send you to Charin, to Jask, to be a watchrider, because you will never fly in any of my Wings ever again!”

K’rin glared hatefully at him from around his bronze’s muzzle, rubbing his jaw, and spat back, “I did nothing wrong.” But there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes as well, “And you have no proof otherwise.” It was all A’zael could do not to hurl himself back at the man, but a snarling dragon did wonders for one’s self control.

“We duel tomorrow morning. Accept or I’ll take it as a profession of guilt,” A’zael demanded.

K’rin sneered back at him, “Gladly, boy. And when I win you’ll not question my innocence again.”

“When I win you will confess your guilt and accept your punishment!”

K’rin laughed, mounting his dragon once more, all mockery, “By your leave, Weyrleader, until tomorrow.”

A’zael cursed after him as the bronze took off from the ledge, shaking from the force of his own rage and the lack of any outlet for it. A’zaelmine? Fath’s voice was still edged with a growl, but there was concern behind his words. He lowered his head and A’zael pressed his forehead to his bronze’s muzzle, taking deep breaths in some attempt to calm down. You have no proof otherwise. He cursed again. Would anyone else have seen what happened? Would they have noticed something was off? Who would believe a bronzerider capable of such a thing? K’rin would be able to play it off as just an accident that happens all too often in the chaos of Threadfall. He had planned this. He had planned it carefully. He must have waited for just the right conditions, the right moment, so that it would never look like anything malicious on his part. Otherwise why had he waited so long? There’d been plenty of Falls since he’d named Rau his ‘second. There really was no proof.

Or he could be innocent.

A’zael couldn’t help the cold laugh that escaped him then, as he finally stepped away from his dragon. He would bet on Fath’s life that K’rin was guilty, and he would make him answer for it.

~~~

B’rax stood staring at him in complete disbelief, “Just what in the blazes do you mean?”

“As I said,” A’zael replied, somewhat defensive, “I’ve challenged K’rin to a duel in the morning. He neglected his duty during Fall, he caused R’get’s injury, knowingly and willfully. Out of petty spite. He will confess.”

B’rax reached out to take A’zael’s shoulders into his hands as though he were about to shake him, but somehow managed to keep from rattling the younger man until some sense was knocked loose, “A’zael. K’rin has turns on you. Turns of training, practice, and real duels. Not to mention the Weyr cannot afford for either of you to be injured in this… folly.”

“It is not folly!” A’zael jerked away from the man’s grasp, “I will not let him get away with this! I can not.”

B’rax ran a hand over his face in frustration, “A’zael, it must have been an accident. I can’t imagine K’rin would do something like that on purpose. You’re upset, I understand that, but you can’t just make these rash decisions when emotions are high. You’re going to-”

“It was NOT an accident!” A’zael all but snarled. He had asked B’rax to meet him after his confrontation with K’rin, so the man would know it was happening, so someone else could hold K’rin accountable to his part when he lost and he couldn’t worm his way out of his confession. Now he wasn’t sure he should have, “K’rin has hated having to take orders from a greenrider since I made Rau my second. He’s made that very clear. He was trying to get rid of him, to kill him! My brother!” His voice broke and he took a few moments to calm down again.

B’rax held up his hands for peace, “Alright… alright. You’re very upset, A’zael… now just isn’t the best time to be rushing into a decision like this. If you just-”

“No!” A’zael cut him off, “I know he’s guilty. I know it. And tomorrow the Weyr will know it too.”

B’rax could see a lost cause when it was standing before him. It was so rare to see A’zael this emotionally worked up over anything. He sighed, resigned. He couldn’t go to K’rin to stop this madness before it began. If K’rin backed down it would be like confirming his guilt.

“You weren’t part of his Wing before, B’rax… you didn’t see how he treated them, when he had the power and the authority… the greenriders in particular. If you had, maybe you’d understand… you’d understand why I know he planned this,” A’zael tried once more to explain, to get the older man on his side, to make him understand he wasn’t just doing this because he was upset and looking for someone to blame.

B’rax shook his head, “I’m sorry, A’zael… I just can’t fathom it, a dragonrider, a bronzerider, trying to kill their own wingmate.” He leveled his gaze on the young Weyrleader, “I just wish you had waited. You know the few times you’ve let your emotions get the better of you, you haven’t exactly made the best choices.”

A’zael clenched his jaw stubbornly but couldn’t refute the man’s claim. “This is different.”

“I hope so,” B’rax replied, though the doubt was clear on his face and in his tone.

[Zen]

A’zael hadn’t slept, or what little sleep he had managed amounted to little enough, but he was not tired when the shadows in his weyr began to brighten with dawn light. He lay awake in his bed, still furious, but with some time to calm down he was also apprehensive. Had he been too hasty after all? Perhaps he should have waited, talked to Rau again, talked to wingmates. It was too late now. He’d made the challenge, he couldn’t just back down from it.

Rubbing one hand over his face, his gaze shifted out toward the ledge where Fath was, content, watching the sun rise as he did every morning from the time he’d broken shell in Mirran. Pulling on a shirt, he made his way out to his dragon’s side, running a hand lightly over bronze hide. Fath didn’t turn away from the sunrise to look at him, but he greeted him happily all the same. Youcametowatchthesunrisewithme! A’zael smiled softly, Indeed. Together they watched the colors of the sunrise slowly spread across the sky. Suddenly Fath tilted his head slightly, Bruth’s wouldliketoknow whereheshouldmeetyou.

And there went the peaceful mood.

He turned back into his weyr, grabbed his belt and buckled it on before sliding his knife from its sheath to inspect it briefly, running his thumb lightly over the blade. He’d never been in a real duel before. He’d been in fights, back at Southern, as was common among boys, particularly among troublemakers like him and Rau, but outside of training and practice, he’d never once been in a duel. Sheathing the blade, he pulled on his boots, Tell Bruth his rider can meet me on the beach. The beach would make it about as openly public as it could be without making a weyrwide announcement about it. He didn’t want to hide what they were doing. He was justified and he wanted witnesses to it, witnesses to K’rin’s confession. He told Fath to tell Gamath where they were going as well, and after a moment he saw B’rax’s bronze descend from his weyr with his rider.

He pulled himself up onto Fath’s back and the bronze winged away from their weyr, down to the sands of the beach, where B’rax was waiting for him with a frown settled on his lips. It wasn’t long before K’rin and Bruth arrived. His gaze narrowed at the other man as they both dismounted and he took a few steps forward. K’rin was quick to grab for his knife, but he held up one hand, “Send Bruth away. Fath, go hunting.” He spoke aloud to his own dragon, for K’rin’s benefit. He didn’t want the dragons interfering. Fath was slightly concerned about the turmoil in his rider’s mind, but certainly didn’t have to be told twice to go hunting. He leapt back into the air and was flying out across the water to one of his favorite hunting spots almost immediately. K’rin sent Bruth in the opposite direction.

They waited in silence for their dragons to gain some distance, and then A’zael reached for his knife and K’rin advanced with his own drawn. K’rin was aggressive, confident, making the first lunge. A’zael leaped backward, trying to get some measure on him. As B’rax had said, K’rin had more experience. He had to be careful if he wanted to win, and he had to win. K’rin was relentless, pushing him back and back, but so far A’zael was managing to avoid each grab or lunge the older man made.

“Are you going to fight or just run away, Weyrleader?” K’rin growled, mocking, “Quit wasting my time!” He lunged again, attempting to grab him with his free hand, and A’zael made to dodge it once more, but K’rin was prepared this time and A’zael had played into the move. With a curse A’zael spun away, putting more distance between them and hissing in pain at the gash in his arm. He felt Fath’s instant concern but didn’t have time to reassure his dragon.

By dragonrider dueling rule, in order to protect their dragons as well as themselves when they had such an important job to perform, a duel would end at first blood. Which was why K’rin had stopped his pursuit, why the older man looked so smug and triumphant, but A’zael wasn’t about to let it end at that. He couldn’t. Not with justice for his brother on the line. So when he closed and made his lunge to grab and slash, K’rin was caught completely off guard. He heard B’rax shout at him to stop, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t over.

He caught K’rin across the chest with his blade after pulling his knife arm away to leave him momentarily defenseless. K’rin stumbled back in shock, but A’zael kept his grip and slashed once more. K’rin had the sense to throw up his free arm to block the blow, catching the blade near his elbow before throwing himself forward. The two fell into the sand, grappling for a better grip on each other, a better position, some advantage, knives flashing in the morning light.

Eventually the winner was clear. With a knee on his knife arm, another knee on his chest, and a knife at his throat, A’zael was pinned in the sand, glaring rage up at K’rin as the older man panted from his efforts and snarled down at him, “Yield, boy! You have lost!”

No! A’zael could have screamed his frustration. Rau…. He’d failed. He had to abide by the terms of the duel. K’rin had won, it meant he could not call his innocence further into question. It meant accepting that Rau’s accident had been just that. It meant K’rin would not face justice for his crime and was free to plot again. He closed his eyes tightly and spat the words, bitter on his tongue, “I yield!”

After another long moment, he felt the pressure leave his chest and arm as K’rin rose and opened his eyes once more as K’rin spat into the sand beside him and turned to stalk away. B’rax came forward then, leaning down to offer him a hand up, and A’zael took it. With a wince, he let B’rax pull him to his feet. “I know,” he growled, “I don’t need a lecture.”

B’rax sighed, “Now is hardly the time. Let’s get you to the infirmary. And I believe a Wing transfer is in order.”

~~~

A’zael had seethed in silence while the healers checked his wounds, bandaged the least of them and stitched two that had cut deeper, smearing them with some herbal concoction to ward off infection. Across the infirmary K’rin had been seen to, and there had been little chatter between anyone for the tension that was nigh on palpable in the room until K’rin finally took his leave.

Fath had returned to the Weyr only shortly after the duel had ended, far too concerned for all the anger and pain his rider was feeling to focus on hunting, and was a bit of a simmering mess of emotions, unable to reach A’zael in the infirmary. And he was in no mood to reassure the bronze. When the healers had finally finished with him, he eyed B’rax suspiciously, the older man had waited the entire time, watching him be patched up, and A’zael still expected a lecture he had no desire to hear.

“Do you think you’ll be well enough to fight in the next Fall?” was the first thing out of the older man’s mouth, much to his surprise.

“I…,” A’zael took a moment to consider the question. They’d just had a Fall, meaning the next would be in 3 days’ time. “I should be fine.”

“Your wounds won’t hinder you?” B’rax pressed, very aware how A’zael pushed himself where Fall was concerned, “I won’t have the Weyr losing their Weyrleader over this.”

A’zael pushed to his feet, incensed, and snapped, “I said I’d be fine!”

“Azzy…?” A’zael spun at the familiar voice, faint though it was. Rau. There was a painful clenching in his chest at the knowledge that he’d failed so utterly to bring K’rin to justice over what he’d done to his brother. All for the crime of being a greenrider in a leadership position. Ignoring B’rax, he moved across the infirmary to R’get’s bedside, the greenrider offering him a lopsided grin at the sight of him shirtless and bandaged up in several places. “What have you gone and done to yourself now…? Trying to show me up?”

A’zael couldn’t help the short laugh as he took his brother’s hand, shaking his head, “I…. I’m sorry, Rau. I tried to….” He cast a glance back toward B’rax, but the man hadn’t moved to follow him, giving him space to speak with Rau alone, and none of the healers seemed to be paying them much mind. He lowered his voice, “I know K’rin did this to you on purpose, Rau. I challenged him to a duel to make him admit it but I….” The shame of the loss filled him and he pulled his hand back, unable to meet R’get’s eyes.

“A duel…? You ash-head…,” Rau muttered, closing his eyes with a sigh as he considered what A’zael had told him. “On purpose, huh....?” He grit his teeth and looked back to his friend, “Yeah. I’d believe it. Azzy… maybe….” He made a displeased sound and A’zael forced his gaze back to him, “You know I’d fight for this… normally, but…. Azzy if this is gonna happen, if our ability to fight Thread is gonna be jeopardized over it, then maybe… maybe I shouldn’t… be your second.”

“What? No,” A’zael shook his head, “No way. I’m not letting him win. I’m not-”

“Azzy... he already has…,” he murmured, closing his eyes again, “Pallath and I, we’ll be out for a while… you need a new second. Whoever it is, they might as well keep it.”

“No. K’rin is transferring to B’rax’s Wing. This won’t happen again. It will be fine, Rau-”

“Azzy stop,” Rau reached out and grabbed his hand, “Stop. It was… maybe it was too soon. We can work toward it, maybe we can get it back, but you of all people… you should see we can’t risk it happening again. Not with the state our Wings are in right now. Maybe… when we have more dragons, we can try again.”

A’zael clenched his jaw, angry that Rau was making sense, and also more proud of him than he’d ever been for swallowing his pride to say it. Rau had been the one of them that had wanted a bronze. It had been such a point of contention back at Southern because he was so open about who he was, and everyone knew gay men rode greens. But Rau hadn’t given a damn about that stereotype and he hadn’t given a damn about the hidebound idiots that had tried to beat it into him either. But Rau hadn’t Impressed a bronze, he’d Impressed a green, and he had started changing how greens and their riders were seen at Mavros, opened up new possibilities. It had to be painful for him to back down on this, more painful than it was for A’zael to agree with him on it. He gave Rau’s hand a squeeze, “We will get back to it, Rau. As long as I have my Wing, even if I manage to escape being Weyrleader… we’ll get back to it.”

Rau squeezed his hand back, then released him, “Great. Now… get out of here, I’m tired, and your yelling is keeping me awake.”

He could see that his brother wanted to lick his wounds in peace, and not the ones Thread had inflicted, and so he nodded and turned away, “I’ll check on you later.” Rau didn’t say anything, and A’zael made his way back to B’rax. As the two of them left the infirmary, with both bitterness and resignation in his tone, he informed the older wingleader, “I need a new wingsecond.”