Galahn, Gawain and Godel's weyr (originally 2001)

Gawain (left) is a strong defender of Eden's Gate's flora and grounds, and the ever-present flame thrower on his back is proof.

Galahn (middle) is a practicing journeyman Healer, with a strong background in beast-healing, and with the eyes for dragon-healing as well.

Godel (right) is a craftsman, able to work both wood and clay to his whim.

"I can't believe they took him," said Gawain. "I mean, he's crazy!"

"Dragons don't take crazy people as bonds, do they?" Godel asked, chipping away at a small sculpture.

"Not that I ever heard of," Galahn spoke up. "And I've heard a lot of stories..."

Gawain sputtered and laughed. "Ahh, you don't hear anything, you've always got your head under some bovine's bu--"

"Don't say it!" Galahn said, sharply. The middle triplet grumbled and stood, stomping angrily away from the camp fire. His brothers watched him without trying to stop him. Galahn was always the most emotional of the three. And of course, Gawain was the loudmouth. And Godel...

Godel continued to work on his little sculpture. It was a runnerbeast in motion, and he held it up so that the light of the fire could illuminate it.

"You gonna sell that?" Asked Gawain, "it's pretty good."

Godel grunted and put it down. "Probably. If I can get us a good fur or another basket of coal, that'll be good."

Silence ruled for a few minutes, while the fire gave off a soft hiss. Gawain looked around after realizing that their brother hadn't come back yet. "Where is that idiot brother of ours?"

"Out. You insulted him, remember?" Godel said. "Why don't you go find him then. You're very good at tracking and all that physical stuff."

"What's gotten into you both tonight?" Gawain said, angrily. "Both of you are such wherries!" He stood and tromped off. Godel lay back on his bedroll and tried to sleep.

It wasn't working. Of course it wasn't. Whenever those two were arguing it was like Thread falling. Nothing could escape it except... A cold bucket of water.

One time, he *had* doused them with a bucket, just to shut them up. Godel turned over and tried to hide his head from the light of the fire, but it still did no good. He was worried about them and neither of them had come back yet.

There was no yelling or panicked shouts coming from the scrub land out there, yet. That was a good sign.

Godel rose, and tucked his knife into his belt. The camp would be fine without all three of them for half a moment, wouldn't it?

When the wood-carver picked his way through the brush, he knew he was making noise. More noise than even his angry brother Gawain. Galahn had stormed off in this direction, hadn't he? Well?

Godel got himself very lost, within minutes. He grumbled to himself, "wherry for brains, we're a family of idiots, we are." When he felt the cold steel knife at his neck, he froze.

"Ye' are, all of ye', idjits." The man's voice was hard, low, and hissed like a snake. "Now come along girls... We've a trade t'make."

Godel saw his two brothers had already been subdued, Gawain looked half-conscious, and he was trying to hold his hands to his head. They'd probably hit him, hard, it looked like. Galahn did not protest, but he was tied at the wrists and had a narrow cord connecting his wrists to his ankles, similarly bound but with enough rope between them to walk. With short, stubbing steps, the trio were led to a low caravan wagon. It was painted up and decorated with local shrubbery, it actually looked more like a moving bush than anything else.

The triplets got on the back of the wagon with difficulty. There they noticed several other travelers had been captured, bound and gagged, and put in the wagon.

Slavers. Galahn looked at his brothers and then back at the rest of the sorrowful inhabitants of the wagon. He waited until the slavers had tied down and locked up the wagon's gate, to speak.

"We're in a fix," he muttered. "But this one has been hurt." Galahn tossed his head at a girl who lay with a pale face. She trembled slightly, and let off a soft sound of discomfort.

Gawain came to when the wagon began moving. Gasping when his head hit the side of the wall, he said, "what about our--"

"Shh!" said one of the others, "shh! Ya' want'ta have us killt'?"

"I want us to get out of here," Gawain growled back.

"Wha's wrong wit'cher hair?" Asked a young boy, looking at the triplets' oddly shaded hair. The elder pair, possibly the boy's foster parents, groaned inwardly, but they didn't stop him from asking. At least it was something lighter than speaking about where they might wind up in the morning.

The trio explained, well, Galahn explained anyway, that they'd been recruited by the odd Blackbottoms of Blackstone Weyr. Their hair didn't *grow* that way!

"I wanna do that!" The boy cheerfully said, bouncing a bit.

Galahn looked back at the young girl, then, when she shuddered. It wasn't a good shudder, either. It was one of those, 'as seen in the infirmary' shudders. "She's got to get medical care," Galahn said. "I can't do anything tied up like this."

Godel leaned over, and whispered in his brother's ear, and Galahn perked up. He fished around (since his arms were bound in the front, while Godel's were bound in back) in Godel's belt. Sure enough, he found the sharp whittling knife. With it, he worked at the hemp ropes with difficulty, until they snapped. Now that his hands were free, he cut Godel's rope, and went to work trying to rouse the girl.

Godel set about freeing the others, and Gawain began tying the thinner cords together into a longer rope, once they'd all been removed. "We'll have to wait to escape, they've locked the door here." He indicated the door, by shaking it slightly. It was indeed quite well locked down. Gawain's head hurt something fierce, but he looked at the little girl Galahn tended to and thought the better of whining about it. It was a bruise, it'd go away. It looked to him like the girl had already been attacked, this was just the topping on the pie.

"Will she be all right?" Gawain asked, momentarily.

Galahn grunted. "She's having seizures. Her head has been hit very hard, it looks like. Here, do you have a strap or belt? Something..." The healer cast about the inside of the wagon for anything, and found a wide leather strap which was used sometimes to hold down struggling prisoners. He yanked it free of its bolt, and began wrapping it around the girl's head, with a grumble to the effect that he'd do better if the wagon wasn't moving so much.

When it lurched to a halt, everyone froze. Their hearts lept into their throats. And if anyone blinked, it wasn't until after the wagon shook with the slavers jumping off of it's sides and top.

"Get ready to fight," Gawain said to the older man and woman, he glanced at the boy. "You help the girl and Galahn. Godel?"

"Here," Godel said, brandishing his little valuable knife. He had it set behind his knuckle, point out, able to gouge horribly should someone be hit. Gawain himself had fashioned the cords into a long loop, and waited.

The door flap came up first, and everyone was still, unmoving. They winced when bright torch light came through the bars. It was still night outside, but it would be dawn sometime soon. Acting like prisoners should, the elders got out first, but the slavers balked when they saw in the back of the wagon's space how their female toy had been tended to. Galahn made no attempt to look like he was bound.

"'Ere! Whazzis!?" Called one of the slavers, and right at that moment, the older man took a hard swing at his captor, impacting his jaw and sending the skinny youth flying. Chaos erupted moments later.

Godel lept out of the wagon, pushing his shoulder into the leader of the slavers. They tussled, while Gawain wrapped up one of the others with their own bindings. Godel kicked at another, while being held by the leader, and it was all dust and spit after that.

A minute or more of heated shouting, flesh-on-flesh impacts, and heavy thudding against the wagon itself later, and the fight was over. The woman had been injured, but she claimed to be okay. She'd even gotten a good bite out of one slaver's arm, keeping him busy long enough to get Gawain to kick him silly. Godel looked into the wagon, and saw his brother staring at the girl.

"She's dead," he announced, darkly, voice a whisper.

The young boy beside him gasped and dove down out of the wagon, sobbing into his foster mother's chest.

"We have to take these men in," Gawain said, after a moment. "There's a Hold nearby. I'm sure that--"

"They were probably taking us there," said the older man. "It's a mining hold. You don't think they'd keep these men there very long, after supplying slaves?"

Gulping, Gawain nodded. "Then... Where? Eden's Gate is pretty far from here, and the terrain isn't all that great."

"We could head back to our camp," Godel said, "it's probably been rooted through already, but I'd like to gather our things anyway."

"I am not leading these foul men back to our home," Galahn said, an edge of anger in his voice that neither Gawain nor Godel had heard before. It was so much deeper than the mostly-in-fun jibing that they did with him. "I will not have murderers and slavers near our home."

"Our cothold is farther away," said the woman, "I am sorry about the girl."

"She was not your daughter?" Asked Galahn.

The woman shook her head. "No, she was with them when they took us. She was already in such a state. She's at peace now..."

As dawn approached, they remained where they were. Desperation had clung on to them, but finally waned as the warming rays touched the ground. The men had been trussed up tightly, and bound into their own wagon.

"It's a shame they didn't have runners t' pull th' wagon," said the boy. "Instead o' these burden beasts." One of those beasts began to stir, and then bellow loudly. "What?! What is it, y' hungry?"

But the beast continued to bleat, and finally the triplets and the parents understood why. There was a dragon flying overhead.

"They've come from our camp," said Galahn, "it's the right direction..."

The blue dragon came to a flapping halt in the air above, sending a huge draft downward. Then he landed, nearby. The group met the rider at the side of the road.

"Heyo," she called. "What's this? Has your caravan been--" She looked down at the side of the road, where the dead girl lay. Then, up at the caravan itself. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"They're more sorry than you," said Galahn, "at least, they ought to be. We must find a place to have these slavers brought to justice." He thumbed at the wagon, and banged on it for good measure. He was still quite angry, mostly because he could do nothing to save the girl.

"I'll get someone to pick them up." The rider unfocused her eyes while speaking to her dragon, who then bellowed and seemed to perk up. Two other dragons, both brown, came to pick up the wagon bodily, and carry it away. The burden beasts were left at the road, panicky but not running away.

The rider announced herself as Corellia, and her dragon as blue Senzath, a search dragon.

"Of all things..." Said the older woman. "Why are ye' out here?"

"I ... we were flying overhead going to one of the larger holds, and Senzath told me to stop. We got a good look at a camp that had been deserted," she looked at the triplets, "and followed the trail away from it. Didn't take much to find you here. There's a secret passageway down there," she pointed to a dark bunch of stones and a bush, which when pulled away revealed an opening. "It leads to that mining hold just north. Was that..."

The older man nodded deeply.

"Then it's a good thing I got here in time." She glanced at the girl, and at Galahn, "I'm sorry. I know when healers lose their patients it's... always bad."

"It was stupid. They are murderers, and they should pay." He said again, and Gawain put his strong hand over his brother's shoulder.

"They will," he said, "I'm sorry for ... earlier, you know."

"I don't even remember what we were fighting about, honestly..." Galahn said.

The rider looked at the elder couple and their foster son, and at the burden beasts. "Take those, I'm sure they won't mind walking back to your home." Eagerly, they began the task of walking off. They thanked the triplets, and the rider again, and then started off.

"What about us?" Asked Godel.

"You? Well," Corellia looked at Senzath, "he says you'll be going back to your camp site and collecting your things, and then coming with me, to Andromeda weyr. We've a clutch on the sands, and it needs good men like yourselves to stand at it."

Dumbfounded, the trio were too exhausted to even cheer for each other, but they did, finally, once they actually got to the weyr.

***

While the clutch hardened, the trio of brothers made themselves useful at Andromeda. It was a good solid weyr and they liked being part of something bigger than just a wandering band of kids.

When the hatching started, it was early in the morning, but all three young men were awake already. As travelers, crafters and emergency techs, they were always up for something.

The dam of the clutch, beautiful golden Bellezath, was snippy but allowed her brown mate to approach her on the sands. The candidates wondered if she would snap at them?

As the first dragons hatched, everyone was cheering. Blue in color, and quickly impressed, the dragon was led off the sands. A green came next, then a brown and another green came.

Galahn stood with his eyes scanning the young dragonets. How they walked when they came from their shells and how they looked so weak... But what else could they do? They'd just come from a safe, warm environment into a hard, hot, hungry existance!

Godel chuckled as he watched another green hatch, comically breaking her shell. A brown came next, they impressed at the same time. Another brown broke shell, and the trio of brothers began to worry.

"There have been a lot of browns, and none of them have even glanced at us," muttered Gawain.

"That's all right. If there is a dragon in there for one of us, it'll..." Galahn said, distracted.

Another green hatched, taking the last girl off the sands. The weyrwoman seemed to be having a teary-eyed fit. Galahn hoped that she wasn't frantic because of sickness, but... Something else distracted him moments later.

There were two blue dragonets standing on the sands, and one more egg left. The three brothers were the only candidates left...

Gulping, Godel walked toward the blues, followed by an eager Galahn.

I am Zonazeth, G'del. You are mine. Do you like me?

"You're beautiful Zonazeth," G'del said as he hugged his new lifemate.

I am Zanezoth, and I think that we look too much alike. Do you think so?

Galahn, G'ahn now, said, "Of course I can tell you apart from your brother, Zanezoth, you're much more handsome!" He laughed, and felt the relief coming from his bond.

The last hatchling left on the sands was a small bronze, who had come from his shell expectantly.

Do not worry about me choosing you, G'wain. You are the only one for me. I am sorry I did not come first, but there was a lot of sand around my shell. I could not get out until now. I am sorry I am not bigger...

"Yes, I was worried, Zenozath, I know I was the only candidate left, but you could have chosen someone in the sands."

I would never have! You were for me!

They left the sands, all three brothers happy, and the weyrwoman relieved that her gold's clutch with a "mere" brown had indeed produced a ranking dragon like Zenozath.

***

"I don't think you understood the order, G'ahn." Said the weyrling master. "I said, 'no' flying until the rest of the group is ready."

"But sir, Zanezoth's wings are more than sturdy enough as they are--"

"Do you not listen to your superiors, G'ahn?" Snapped the older man. "I said, NO flying. And I MEANT no flying. Is that clear? You're on cleaning duties for the fire heights for the next sevenday."

The healer sighed and nodded, slumping against the wall. Sure, Zanezoth was ready. He'd flown. Even his clutch mates knew he was ready. But... "What good can I do if I'm restricted to being here all the time?" The young rider-healer muttered.

"You'd do best waiting for the rest of us to catch up," G'wain said, scrubbing his hands free of the firestone that he'd been helping sort. "Because honestly brother, you won't be of any use if you get threadscored or killed between, while flying off when you're not supposed to."

"I wanted to help," he said, and growled more at himself than anyone else. It was true, the healer and his dragon needed to be out there with the rest of the dragons, making sure that the wounded got the care they needed right then and there. Not waiting until they were back at the Weyr.

"I think you did a good job, anyway," G'odel said, drying his hair. He too had been enlisted to stuff firestone sacks, with his brother. Their dragons weren't ready to fly, at least not against Thread! "He's brave, that blue brother of yours," G'odel said to Zonazeth. The blue nodded, his eyes swirling happy colors.

I am proud of him, even if the weyrling master man says he is bad. He is not bad! He is very brave!

Braver than me? Asked Zenozath the bronze.

Hah! You think he is not? The blue Zonazeth responded.

Please... I only wanted to help them... Zanezoth bespoke, silencing both his clutch mates. Their shared weyr would be too small to keep to themselves for very much longer, soon they would have to either split up or find the biggest weyr -- perhaps the size fit for a queen -- to remain together. The active brothers with their blue and bronze dragons would be fine together, G'ahn thought. But did he really belong with them? He was a healer, and so was his brave dragon. They would fly against thread only with a different slant. Where G'wain would fry it from the air, and where G'odel would invent new formations to use, G'ahn wanted only to keep his fellows safe...

***

As the trio of brothers and their clutch-brother dragons mature, the Protectorate slipped away from their old world and into a new one: Alskyr. There, they find the old abilities are not all needed, but new ones take their places. All three of them make their last teleport between spaces, to this new world, and find that they have lost the ability forever. Not to worry -- Zanezoth's flight ability has not been diminished, and the others have duties beyond just zipping between!

Now at full size, Zonazeth and G'del have been enlisted by the Uplifted Spirits wing in the Protectorate. There, they will be able to create and demolish things, to their hearts content. The fact that they cannot create fire any more does not deter them in the least. Zonazeth proudly insists that he never needed flame anyway. He has brains.

He HAS his rider!

Zanezoth and G'ahn work in one of the many Healer's and Medic's wings of the Protectorate, because their eagerness has truly earned that rank.

G'ahn believes that they should have been rewarded earlier. But Alskyr is its own reward -- his brother has already made them HOMES, not mere caves!

Zenozath relies upon his great strength and balanced flight ability to protect their new coastline from invading creatures. He is unsure how it happened, but he alone among his brothers has retained the ability to spit fire, and now without the nasty tasting stone to chew!

G'wain thought he might need to use his trusty flame thrower again, but the bronze dragon loves to get himself into the fray anyway, plucking Ants off the ground and killing them.