Chap. 12 The Legacy

Chap 12   The Legacy

No one minded that it was raining hard. Rain killed Thread and this weather pattern seemed to promise that it would continue through the next forecasted Threadfall, giving every dragonrider a break from his Thread fighting duties.

B'rant and the Weyr's harper had spent much of the week discussing the traditions of Weyr society, and  teaching the weyrlings the Songs.

For most of the week, the barracks rang with the boys sometimes cracking baritones and the higher pitched girls' voices. Despite the rain and thunder, the Songs made the days spent inside bright and cheery.

K'ndar appreciated the songs. The tunes easily lodged into his memory, embedding themselves, and their information, into his mind.

At the end of this morning's class the students would be issued their weyrling braids. He was looking forward to wearing one. Wearing a braid made him Someone, a person recognized as having some sort of status, not just a kid with a dragonet. True, it was at the lowest level of dragon society, but, one had to start at the bottom, right?

He was also looking forward to working in the carpentry shop. He'd been assigned the task of helping the carpenter. So far his help consisted of sweeping up sawdust, carrying wood, and shuttling tools. He'd never worked with wood before and found it amazing that one could take a hunk of dead tree and turn it into spoons, bowls, chairs...all sorts of things! The hardest part had been learning the names of the different tools. But in the end, it wasn't work at all. It was fun.

B'rant came out of his office with a pouch and sat down in front of his class. They all knew what was in the pouch. Weyrling braids.

"I know you've all been waiting for this moment," he said to their eager faces.

"I've told you that some of these braids have a story behind them. Some are from weyrlings who didn’t graduate due to accidents or death.  Others are from riders who graduated and left them here. I will tell you if the braid you choose has a history behind it, or if it's a new one. It is fully your choice. You may have a new one, as there are enough new ones for the entire class. Or, you may choose a 'legacy' braid.  I will be glad to tell you its history, if you like. If, after you hear the history you decide not to take it, that is perfectly understandable, and you may have a new one instead."

He began to call individual names. First one to choose was a girl. "I think I would like a new one," she said. He ceremonially threaded it over her arm to her shoulder. She beamed in pride.

Several others went before K'ndar was called, all asking for new braids.

He looked over the braids. They all looked the same to him. But something about one of them called to him, and he picked it up. "I'd like this one, please."

The look on B'rant's face was indescribable.

"That one has a history behind it," he said, with an odd note in his voice. "Would you like to hear it?"

K'ndar pondered for a moment.  If it was bad, he could always decide to not take it.

"Yes, sir."

B'rant began. "Many years ago, when I was a wingleader, I was assigned several newly graduated riders. It was, for them, their first real flight against Thread. They were tasked with supplying the fighting dragon riders with sacks of firestone. As you will learn, this is a hard and dangerous job, entailing tossing full sacks of firestone to another rider while in flight," he said.

Every eye was on him, entranced.

"One of the new riders had tossed a sack of firestone to a rider. The sack split in midair, dropping the entire load.  A brown dragon rider came from between in the middle of the falling firestone. Both rider and dragon where hit in the head. The rider was knocked cold. His dragon was killed instantly. They did not go between, but instead fell out of the sky. The rider lived but was severely injured. Only because the dragon hit first, taking the brunt of the crash landing,  was he not killed. The rider had head injuries and a leg broken in two places. It took months for him to heal the leg, but his heart.." B'rant stopped, sighed, then continued, "He never rode a dragon again, and you all," he swallowed hard, "now can fully appreciate why."

The thought of losing their dragons made everyone's blood run cold. It wasn't death that scared them. No, it was the awful fate of NOT dying.

"So, should you decide not to keep it, I, and the original owner, will understand."

K'ndar wondered if he wanted the braid. He looked at it without seeing. Running his fingers around it, he wondered, Should I be afraid?

 But he felt nothing ominous about it. It felt…comfortable. It felt as if he'd always owned it.

"I'll keep it, sir," he said, looking into B'rant's eyes. He saw a flash of something unfathomable in the Weyrlingmaster's eyes. There were dark currents swirling in them, as if the man was looking skyward through dark waters.

"I think that is the right decision, K'ndar, because you know the man who used to wear it."

"I..I do?" he asked.

"Yes, K'ndar. You know him as your uncle, Fland."

K'ndar was dumbstruck. He took a wobbly step back. Memories exploded in his mind.  Suddenly fragments of long forgotten incidents connected. Images of Fland flooded his mind, accompanied by snatches of overheard comments and voices making subtle references to events a child would not have understood. Things suddenly made sense.  Fland had always limped. He had always had a haunted sorrow in his eye, and the air of a man living with an immensely heavy burden in his heart.

K'ndar had seen it his entire life, but had never considered asking why. Children didn't ask such things. Children couldn't grasp nuances such as this. It was just who Fland had always been.

"How…how," he gasped, trying to balance the emotional storm raging in his mind and heart.

"Your brother, Mardriss, handed it to me when your family was here for your Impression. I'd no idea where Fland went after leaving the weyr. Now I know he is closer than I would ever have guessed. I am glad he thought to send it to you. Perhaps now you understand why he couldn't bring himself to come to the Impression, although he very much wanted to. It would have meant his riding a dragon.  He wanted you to have the braid he wore as a Weyrling. And he passed on this message:" that he could understand why you might not want to wear it, but would be honored if you did," he paused, then said,

"I am very happy that he did not suicide. Perhaps I'm being selfish, because once a rider loses his dragon, he…or she…is a survivor, enduring an agony that will never ease. I don't believe I would have the strength-or the courage-to live on were I to lose my dragon. But Pern needs men and women like Fland, no matter what service they provide. I'm happy that he saw fit to live, so that he could help raise a fine young man like you. You are very, very much like him, and I am proud to have you under my wing, if you'll excuse the expression."

There wasn't a dry eye in the classroom. K'ndar had to swallow hard to get his voice to work.

"Thank you, sir," was the only thing he could think to say. As B'rant ceremoniously threaded the braid onto his shoulder, he made a solemn vow: Someday, Uncle Fland, I will thank you in person.