Chap. 371 The Brown Dragon Race

Chap. 371 The Brown Dragon Race

The air is much cooler up here, he thought. They’d just launched to do a practice run of the upcoming race.

It is Raventh said, but like the sea, it changes from minute to minute.

Now, please, be quiet. Don’t think. I need to, I don’t know the word, but if you talk, I listen to you, not to me.

Concentrate?

If it means all my thinks on just flying the course, yes. Concentrate.

K’ndar grinned, not wanting to correct ‘thinks’. Raventh had a full vocabulary now, and his little mistakes like ‘thinks’ were precious to him.

He remembered his mother glaring at him when he was about to correct his baby sister’s ‘wubbledo’ instead of ‘double u’. Now I understand what she meant by it being “cute”.

I will be quiet as a nightflyer.

They do make noises, you know. Just so high pitched I don’t think you humans can hear them. They use them to navigate and catch prey! Raventh said.

Whoa, he thought. That’s amazing.

Two other browns were flying the course, as well.

One of them was P’jar on his Falconth.

“Any advice about flying this course?” K’ndar had asked his colleague, after the blues had finished.

His answer was astonishing.

“Now, K’ndar, that would be stupid of me, don’t you think?”

“Stupid? How?”

“Look, cobber, in all other venues, we’re colleagues, we’re teammates. In this particular instance, I’m a competitor. I’ve flown this course in the past, and I intend to win it. If I tell you where the up and down drafts are, where there may be wind shear, this helps you. Right?”

“Um, ” K’ndar said, not quite sure how to respond, “but you insisted on my racing, for fun.”

“I did, yes, because the more competition, the better the race. I did say racing was fun, but, well, to me, it’s to show that I have the fastest brown dragon. It’s nothing personal, and the more brown dragons that race, the bigger the prize. You should fly your course on your dragon, and let me fly it on mine.”

Somehow it felt like a slap in the face.

My entire career as a dragonrider, even before that, a herder, has been that of being a member of a team, he thought, it doesn’t feel right to suddenly be an opponent.

P’jar saw him struggling with the concept. He’s still naive, he thought.

“You’ve never raced at Weyrlingschool? Or even on a horse?” P’jar had asked.

“Well, of course. But never for money. Just for fun.”

“Did you win?”

“Yes, sometimes, my horse was small but fast.”

“And when you did, it made you feel that you were better than the others, right?”

“Uh, I never considered it being ‘better’. It was just, my horse, my riding was well, I see your point. But I never thought of it being I’m a better human. Just a better rider.”

“It’s the betting that makes the difference. Betting on a race isn’t that sort of fun, K’ndar. To me, it’s serious business, there are people out there putting a lot of money on our dragons. Who is dragon- or horseback means nothing to them. Did you see the bettors walking around our dragons, pointing out what they liked in Falconth? Or Raventh? Your dragon is an unknown factor to the bettor, and unknowns are usually not well thought of. Whereas me and Falconth, we’ve raced here since we were Weyrlings. We’re known to be fast, and I know this course like the insides of my eyelids. If the bettor thinks we’ve uh, ‘made arrangements’, that we’ve shared information, they’ll think they got cheated.”

“It’s not the same, not like what that con man did.”

“And good on you for flushing him out of the undergrowth before we race, K’ndar. You exposed the whole slimy lot, you know. There were three of ’em down at the track, selling phony chits. Lord Framdon’s bailiffs netted the whole bunch. Lord Framdon might even give you some sort of reward. But right now? Sorry, mate, but I’m out to win.”

“I notice you’re the favorite,” K’ndar said. “Two to one odds on you, right?”

P’jar nodded, proudly. “It’s a compliment, really, but if it was legal for me to bet on anyone in this race, I’d probably bet on you. You won’t win, but odds like two to one don’t make a bettor wealthy. It’s the ten to ones, the twenty to ones who don’t have a chance, but once in a while you get a blue hen and when that happens, the bettor who risked it makes a lot of money.”

So I’m just here to show everyone that you’re better, he wondered. Something in his mind said, Oh, really. “Okay, I understand. I thought you didn’t know anything about horses?”

“I said I can ride, and no, I don’t know much, but this Hold breeds great horses, we’re proud of them. Most folks who come here to ‘just look’ at Hold horses usually end up looking for livestock shippers to take them north. I learned that a ‘blue hen’ is a mare that doesn’t look like much, didn’t do well at the races, but produces some incredibly talented babies.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“Serious betting isn’t fun, K’ndar, it’s a passion, almost an addiction to some people. My father was a gambler, he’d bet on just about anything, like what color of gown will the Lord’s wife wear at the dinner tonight. I call it gambler’s disease, it’s not something that can be cured with a needle thorn prick. It takes an enormous amount of self discipline to control that urge to bet. In some people, it’s a sickness, it eats them up, like alcohol. It’s sneaky, too, it doesn’t shout it’s presence, it sneaks in and takes over.

I bet on horses and dragons, nothing else, and even so, there are times this little glitch in my brain insists life is too boring, let’s gamble on something, anything, like what day the birds from Northern come down for the winter. It’s a thrill to win and we forget the many losses. Until, you see despair in your weyrmate’s eyes, and your kids have holes in their boots, and it’s because you spent every mark you had on a losing horse. That was my father, K’ndar. Only because we lived here, in a tight knit community of shellfishers were we cared for, my mother always so embarassed because my father would make bets and then ‘forget’ he owed someone money. She was reduced to taking in laundry to put food on the table, and I knew how humiliating it was. Sometimes I think it’s inheritable, sometimes I think he passed that glitch onto me. Memory is what keeps me from submitting to it, no matter how much it begs. On a day like today, I allow myself ten marks to bet and when it’s gone it’s gone. I don’t ever want my kids or my weyrmate to go hungry.”

He has family, K’ndar thought, why aren’t they at Landing? But that was a question for later.

“Huh,” K’ndar said, “I won big at the Ruatha races, but lucky for me I don’t seem to have that glitch, or, for that matter, that need to win. I’ve never been competitive.”

“Then, just enjoy racing with me and the other browns,” P’jar said. “I’ll never forget how it feels to be flying in formation, me keeping an eye on my wing, everyone knowing what to do and what part they play in fighting Thread. Sometimes…sometimes I miss Thread. It gave me a sense of purpose.”

“I don’t. And once you get settled, you ought to join me and Francie and the two lords on our flight drills. It’s fun.”

And it keeps us in shape, he thought, but he didn’t say it. No use giving away a hint.

—————————————————————————————————–

Let’s fly the course Raventh said, I need to see how the air feels. Don’t worry. We will win.

He was about to question Raventh on just why he believed it when he remembered B’rant, his Weyrlingmaster’s advice.

“The dragon who doesn’t believe in himself is the one that will get scored,” he’d said, “Never doubt your dragon. They don’t lie to anyone, including themselves.”

Keeping my mind quiet is so difficult, he thought, as Raventh studiously and slowly flew the course. I’ll concentrate on the feel of the air. I never thought of air as being like the sea, and now I remember doing this just before threadfall, I understand now what….

SSSHHHH! Please stop thinking Raventh said. Siskin giggled.

______________________________________________________________

They were hovering in a line of brown dragons. To either side, a Queen and a junior gold were eyeing the line, waiting for the browns to come up to an invisible line.

He looked over the other browns. They all seemed to be older. Most of the dragons had thread score.

Sssh, Raventh said, the golds are just about ready. Dragon #5 was slightly behind the line of browns. Beyond him, P’jar was looking straight ahead, focused on the flag pinnacle.

“Siskin, sit tight,” he said. The blue fire lizard tucked himself in between the neck ridges just behind Raventh’s head, his hind legs secured in the collar Glyena, his sister had made for Raventh long ago.

He focused on the flag pinnacle-and Raventh jumped forward in the air, his wings pounding the air.

“They’re off!” he heard the race caller shout, and then all he heard was the woosh of wings overhead and the wind on his face. Within seconds, P’jar’s Falconth was ahead, a second brown right behind him. Raventh was third by a length.

He twisted to see where the other browns were.

Don’t do that. Just stay still Raventh admonished him.

That was difficult, so used was he in keeping his head on a swivel to watch for thread. He’d forced his body into a stiff, upright position when his horseman’s instinct kicked in. I’m in a race, he thought, I don’t have to stay upright looking for Thread.

He tucked his elbows close to his side and lowered his torso until he felt the points of the neck ridges were pressing into his chest.

Yes Raventh said, feeling the air resistance drop to virtually nothing.

He heard the whooof of rapidly beating wings behind and before him. Falconth was drawing away.

The flag pinnacle seemed to be growing larger by the moment.

The wind whistled in his ears. I’ve never flown so fast in my life, he thought.

I’m not even trying, yet Raventh said. He sounded confident.

For several kilometers, the group stayed in the same positions. One dragon crept up behind him, enough for K’ndar to hear the dragon’s stentorian breathing. He sounds old, K’ndar thought, then forced his mind into silence.

Raventh drew in great lungfuls of air, his fenestrated rib cage expanding on every upstroke of his wings. Siskin sent a sense of pure joy.

There were two things odd about the race. Ah. In a horse race, my face would be whipped by my horse’s mane. And it’s quiet. No one’s saying a thing. Not like a horse race, where riders shout. No, we’re all silent, in communication with our dragons’ minds.

Yes.

They were creeping up on the second dragon. P’jar’s Falconth pulled further ahead.

Falconth’s right wing went up at a 45° angle as he began the turn around the pinnacle. P’jar remained upright. He’s not a horseman! K’ndar thought.The brown dragon in second was just behind Falconth when he was suddenly swept skyward, tumbling and losing speed as he fought to regain his balance. He fell back.

Behind him, he heard another rider’s derisive whoop.

That was lucky, he said, with only his mind.

Not luck. I watched the blues race. I saw where the updraft is. It’s wide and fast. Hang on, I’m about to make the turn around the rock.

The pinnacle was right there in his face, so close he could see plants growing on its side.

He heard P’jar give an inarticulate cry as Falconth completed the turn and flattened out on the return leg.

Raventh tipped so far over his right wingtip pointed directly up at the sky. He felt gravity tug at him, but he’d been a rider of both horse and dragon too long to fall off. But for several dizzying seconds, his side view consisted solely of the land beneath them. A LONG way beneath them. A blast of hot air hit his left cheek. He could smell the heated stone pinnacle, seemingly no more than a meter away.

We’re close, he said, his heart in his throat.

This is where the updraft helps.

You’re flying like you’re a green!

Yes, Raventh said, laughing.

The glorious feeling of being a master rider on a fabulous dragon swept his heart. This is MUCH better than a horse race!

Then they were around the pinnacle.

Raventh leveled out. Falconth had used the same updraft to increase his distance.

He’s pulling away

I know. But I can catch him.

He increased his wing beats.

They pulled even with P’jar. K’ndar, still crouched low, pushed his eyes as far to the right to see the look on the leader’s expression. P’jar glanced at him in what only could be called consternation.

Falconth turned his head to look at Raventh, and much later, K’ndar swore the dragon looked astonished.

P’jar yelled something but it was lost in the rushing sound of the wind and wings.

Now I will race Raventh said.

He rocketed forward as if shot from a crossbow.

With mighty wing strokes, Raventh passed Falconth. The downdrafts from his wings pushed K’ndar even further into the spiny neck ridges. They passed the other browns just now approaching the turn.

K’ndar felt a wild thrill and could not help but shout. I’m so glad I’m tight on his back, his wings are beating so fast I could be conked.

Now he could hear the spectators shouting.

They drew a dragon length ahead, then a second, and he heard the caller shout “Four is running away!”

Falconth wasted precious breath roaring in frustration.

Then they passed the golds and the crowds shrieked in joy and fury.

“Four wins! Four wins!”

________________________________________________________

Raventh was panting, but his eyes were so blue they were almost black.

Siskin swirled around his head, chattering in joy.

“My stars,” he said, straightening up. He hugged Raventh’s sweaty neck. That was incredible.

It was fun! Just like Falconth’s rider said.

Falconth landed a ways from Raventh. Soon he was joined by the other browns. Only a few people approached them, some jubilant, some disconsolate. He watched a woman with two half grown kids approach P’jar.

K’ndar couldn’t hear him over the noisy crowd, but he saw him kiss the woman, who then left. The kids stayed to help him unharness Falconth.

He dismounted. The officiate of the race approached, followed by a huge crowd that was cheering. Most of them were shouting “Twenty to one! I won!”

“Back off, folks, don’t crowd the dragons,” the man said. He came up to K’ndar and said, “Congratulations, sir, that was quite a race! Where are you from?”

“Uh, Landing, sir.”

“Landing has a Weyr?” the man said, utterly confused.

“Well, No…”

“No matter. If you would, please, move your dragon further south, where the blues are? Next race is the bronzes and they need a lot of room. And again, congratulations. If you please, come over to the dais for your prize.”

I heard.

He motioned to the man to back away and Raventh launched to fly further away from the crowds.

I’ll be there to unharness you, and then do you want a bath in the sea?

There’s a lake on far side of the ridge behind the pinnacle, just for us. The sea is too rough today, I think.

Send Siskin to me.

He’s already at the lake, bathing. There are a two fire lizards here, a bronze and a gold.

The official made a short speech to the crowd, but it was melting away as those who’d won their bet went to collect their winnings.

K’ndar saw more than one person drop their chits in disgust. What a waste, he thought, then he saw several children running about, picking up every discarded chit they could find. It was a race all their own.

“Your punter is Horse,” the official said, handing him an oversized chit with

WINNER BROWN DRAGON RACE stamped on it. “You don’t have to hurry to cash it in, sir, we know you have a dragon to care for. “

“Thank you.”

“I advise you to put the chain around your neck, sir, and tuck the chit inside your shirt. I’ve never been to a Gather that didn’t have someone trying to pick your pocket or make off with your pouch.”

K’ndar obeyed, shaking his head. “I don’t understand thieves. Or shysters, like the ones who tried to bribe me into interfering with the other dragons.”

“You’re the one who reported them.”

It didn’t take long for that information to get out, he thought.

“Yes, but one of the green riders told your bailiffs the same story.”

The man growled. “They really pressure the green riders, they think just because they’re girls they’ll fall for the lies. I’m happy to say they usually don’t. Even so, Western Hold owes you, K’ndar. Those shysters are pests at best and thieves at worst, and Lord Framdon comes down hard when he can, but usually, if they convince him it’s all just talk, nothing changes hands, he has to let them go. This time, though, they stepped on their schwanse with their counterfeit chits. That’s very definitely an offense. And it’s a new one. They spend an awful lot of time coming up with new ways to steal. Seems like every time we get one nest of them cleaned up, another takes their place.”

Siskin suddenly appeared, wet. He chittered happily, sending images of a lake full of dragons.

He landed on K’ndar’s shoulder. Dripping.

“Lovely fire lizard, sir. We don’t see them here too often.”

“It’s not the right habitat for them here,” K’ndar said, wishing Siskin had at least rolled his bath off. Sand was easier to clean off than water.

“He’s the one who raced with the blues?”

K’ndar laughed. “Aye. And he was VERY proud of himself for beating all those big blue dragons.”

Siskin spread his wings in victory.

The man grinned. “Yours was a great race, sir, it was as thrilling as we could hope for. I’ve never seen a brown as fast as yours. You surprised everyone.”

“Including me!” K’ndar said.

The man chuckled, then turned his attention to the crowd.

“Bronze race in half an hour! Give them room, folks, don’t crowd ’em.”

Twenty one marks! Winner take all! he thought, feeling the chit bump on his chest as he headed to where Raventh was waiting.

Some of the brown riders came over to congratulate him.

“Well done,???”

“K’ndar, rider of brown Raventh, Landing,” he said.

“Woof, K’ndar, when you turned that pinnacle I thought you were riding lightning. He’s a handsome one, he is. Those wings, like a raptor’s. You passed my boy like we were still on the ground.”

“Well, he’s only four. And we exercise three times a week.”

“Aye, mine is twenty. I’ll have to do that. I hope you come back next Gather, maybe my lad will beat you.”

“I just might. Thank you.”

P’jar came up to him and shook his hand.

“Well, for a brown dragon, he sure is a blue hen,” he said.

They laughed.