Zap - written around 2001

Young son of dragonriders H'ex and Sharmon, and living in Blackstone weyr with them. Zarap is expected to impress, as he was actually Searched when he was but four turns old!

Zarap has already taken on the black dyed hair that his father has, and his is orange rather than pink. Independant enough at the age of 12 turns now, Zarap has his own ideas of what he will be doing with his life. Specifically, he knows he will ride a dragon into thread! He has no problem with the dangers, he knows them as he has seen threadscore every time the Red Star passes overhead.

He is being trained in Shard's wing, already. A true weyrbrat, he has always been around dragons, riders and their ilk. He knows how to muck out a weyr for a weyrling dragon, how to stitch together wounded wing sails, and which comes first: oil or numbweed. He has watched not only flying dragon wings, but the grounded workshops that all pre-flight weyrlings must go through.

Zarap wants very much to shorten his name. It will be Z'ap, of course... He wishes for a special dragon to ride, be it green, blue, brown or bronze.

"This is hard work," Zarap panted, "but it's so worth it..." He kept reminding himself over and over. The weyrling barracks at Blackstone were always filled with young dragons... And their dung.

The riders of the young dragons had to spend most of their time feeding their dragons, and learning their Thread fighting drills. That left a lot of work if they couldn't find anyone to help muck out the weyrs they resided in. Zarap and several others kept coming back to these low weyrs, to make sure that they got their daily contact with dragon kind.

When the young blue dragon came back to his weyr with his rider, Zarap could sense something was wrong.

"What happened to you?" He asked, putting the long-handled broom down and going to the skinny rider's side. The boy had bruises all over his face, it looked like,... "did you fall? Did someone hit you?"

The boy shook his head. "We were meant to fly today. But this bungling blue here managed to faceplant both of us into the gravel down in the courtyard. We'll be all right. The healers said so." Without another word, the blue rider stomped out to the bathing rooms, and left Zarap with the young blue.

Obviously the dragon had not done this on purpose. He looked so sad! His head hung low and his wings drooped. There were several lines of gauze threads strung along one of his wings, obviously where he'd scraped up on landing.

"There there," Zarap said, running his hand along the blue wing. The dragon looked up at him, with forlorn whirling-grey eyes.

I did not mean to be clumsy! These wings are big!

"They sure are!" Zarap tried to sound encouraging. His heart had lept into his throat, though, because... This dragon had never spoken to him before! "They really are. And I bet if you strengthen them and work on your balance, you'll be able to fly right very soon."

But it is so hard! And then Sh'zel is heavier than he looks!

Zarap glanced over his shoulder, hoping that the rider hadn't returned yet. He had not.

"Look, Tolneth," he whispered to the dragon, "I think you're strong enough and graceful enough for anyone. Don't let him tell you you're clumsy! If he believes that, then... Then you'll start thinking it! And that just isn't true!"

The dragon tilted his head, and then nudged the young strangely-haired boy with his nose. I like you. You make me happy. And you make my weyr clean! I am so sorry I cannot help that either...

Zarap rolled his eyes, "not yet anyway... but the moment you can go between, 'go' between!"

***

The hour was getting late, and Zarap had cleaned up three weyrs worth of muck all day. The rewards were certainly better than the small bit of praise he got from the weyrling master or the very rare thanks from the actual rider. Tolneth seemed genuinely happy that he'd been there, and Zarap was so very proud of himself for having helped out!

A big hand landed on the boy's shoulder, when he was about to take a well-deserved bite of his dinner. His eyes grew wide, and he froze.

"I heard you did a very good thing for a very clumsy dragon today," said a voice from above him.

"Th-thank you sir..." Zarap said, still frozen in place. The rider (for he wore leathers and his thick gloves still) sat down abruptly beside the boy.

"You're quite welcome. It's no surprise that my Fadeth told me to come in here. I can see that you're the one he was talking about."

"Talking about sir?" Zarap put his spoon down, and stared at the man. A rider... Talking to him like...

"About the Search. Dawn Sisters Weyr has a few eggs left for candidacy spots. We're always looking, and this seemed like the best place to start. So. Would you like to come with me to Dawn Sisters? To stand on the sands? Firath and Verelith have eleven eggs waiting. They're almost hard enough to hatch now, so we should get a move on."

He stood, and indicated the doorway.

Zarap sat still for a moment, eyes buggy. Then he smiled froggy and wide. "Could you at least let me finish my dinner? I've had a real long day!"

***

The sands were filling up with spectators. Zarap and the other candidates had a short chance to touch the eggs, get used to the heat of the sands and that kind of thing, and then finally the day had arrived! The hatching!

Several of the eggs hatched out beautiful dragons, not that they all weren't beautiful! But as they started to dwindle, and more and more of the candidates were escorted off the sands with their lifemates, Zarap began to get worried. So much so in fact that he looked forlornly at the last egg, a smallish one which didn't seem to move at all any more.

No one stopped him. He was the last candidate on the sands... And this egg would have been -- his. Zarap turned to leave.

Then amazingly, the rider of the dam of this clutch came rushing over to him, shaking him roughly and pronouncing that the egg was his, that her dragon insisted that there was life left in it! With tears in his eyes, he rushed back to the egg. It was hard, so hard! And the little dragon within was exhausted from the prior efforts of getting out. Zarap kicked at it, attempting to open it.

Oh please... it is so hot... and I am so tired... just a ...little rest is all ...I nee..

"He is in there! I can hear him! He's looking for me!" Zarap cried openly, as others looked on. This wasn't supposed to happen, was it? "I can't do it Dadalith! I can't! You need to push!"

From within the shell, the little dragonet heard his name. That seemed to give him enough energy to seek a weak part of the shell and push with all his little leftover might. At long last, a fissure appeared and his snout opened through it. Zarap helped free the little blue and they lay there until the weyr healer announced they were both healthy.

They got to their feet and took a well-deserved break for food and oil!

***

I have never felt better!

"Good! Now, let's see about getting those wings of yours in shape to fly again." Z'ap called to his dragon. Frail since his almost-failed hatching, Dadalith put on good amounts of weight at first, slowed, but didn't stop growing, and finally put on another growth spurt recently.

As a weyrling, he was still quite small, only the size of most of the younger greens of the weyr. Z'ap tolerated no teasing, an effort doubled by the other riders of his clutch.

They think I am very brave, why is that?

"Because you almost didn't hatch, remember?"

No, I do not remember. But I have you to do that...

***

He is going to be fine, Jeremoth bespoke.

"Then you tell him he's got to work on that landing some more. I can't. I'm laughing too hard..."

Shard wiped the tears from his eyes, as they watched a particularly nasty landing that one of the Protectorate's weyrlings in training had just done.

Ah! Here comes Dadalith! I would like to have him on the wing. He is quick and responds nicely to his rider.

"You know that do you?" Shard said.

Have I ever been wrong?

Shard patted the blue on his flank and they landed. They called for Z'ap and Dadalith, who were helping with these weyrlings.

"It's about time you came by. I was wondering when you'd be back for me!" Z'ap said, sounding more happy than annoyed.

"Come back?" Shard said, and then turned to look at a guilty-looking Jeremoth.

"You already told me I'd be in your wing, remember Shard?" The young blue rider bounced up and down, still quite teenaged.

"YOU told him," Shard looked at Jere again, who nearly buried his head in the loose sands of the grounds.

I did. But I want him on the wing!

"So you've said! Wherry brain!"

"Aww, don't insult him. It's quite an honor, Shard. I'd love to be on your wing, if you'll have me. That is, before the Shadow Warriors get to me..."

"They've already asked?" Shard said, and Z'ap nodded.

"Sure. H'lis liked the idea right off."

"Well, I can't fault him. So. You'll have his wing when you need to be all secret and mine when you need to be visible. Sound good?"

"GREAT!" Z'ap exclaimed, and Dadalith bellowed in agreement.