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Variola strode around the Cathair, as though he owned
the place. While most of his time was consumed by watching out for the
Cathair leaders, always in the back of his mind was a far more important
mission.
Just barely after he had arrived at the
Braethas Raug sands the first time, there had been a terrible disaster.
Opposing creatures and their riders, vicious and terrible, struck the
Cathair. While many of the locals were riders themselves, they still had
a hard time fighting off the Leviathan and its ilk.
Which left a huge wake of pain, misery, death and
destruction behind.
Variola stood in the doorway of the infirmary and
helped people in and out. One had a gash the length of his arm bleeding
freely, another had bite marks all down her leg. That was the tip of the
iceberg - most riders or their dragons had sustained some kind of injury,
and those who came in without as much experience usually didn't come out
from the fighting at all.
Many dragons and their riders were lost - but worse,
many of the candidates were lost as well in a particularly horrific attack.
Variola remained in the infirmary for weeks - helping mend the broken
bones or soothe the burns on skin blistered by fire breathers.
He would only introduce himself as "Vari"
to people in the infirmary, naturally. How they would react if they knew
his full name? Well, if they had proper education they would know.
The Raug dragons announced that some of their eggs
were ready to hatch - but Vari was quite busy in the infirmary. He was
told that while he was needed there (they still considered his 'healer's
upbringing' to be important in the hospital wing) there would still be
eggs left on the sands, and if a dragon really wanted him, they'd find
a way to get to him. It'd happened before, it would surely happen again
if need be.
Later, he thought - worried - that some of the dragons
suspected something was wrong when two weeks after the war ended, dozens
of injured riders began coming down with severe flu like symptoms. There
was a rash on one rider that looked worse than the burns she'd had healed.
One rider's temperature refused to go below 102 no matter what herbs or
ice packs were given to him. Then the blotchy spots appeared...
And Ketrenal was furious. He stormed into the small
den that Vari was holed up in for the duration of waiting for his dragon,
livid.
Of course, he was nearly incomprehensible with his
accent and the anger that drove his speech patterns into a lilting 'seethe'.
He let off a string of swearing that would melt a sailor's heart - or
burn it to a crisp more likely.
What Vari got out of this first little meeting was
"do it again and die!"
"Sir I was chosen to bond with a dragon,"
Vari said carefully, and while on the other side of his cot from the angry
Cathair leader. "And I hope that that event won't be denied to me."
Ketrenal let off another tirade. Vari waited until
he was finished, panting, and then nodded his head low as though he understood
more than three words out of ten.
"I understand that what I can do is... unusual,
sir. But, just as you have walked your path, I must walk mine. If the
dragons wish me to be here for them, I will be here. I ... will try and
refrain from my... task."
"GOOD!" Ketrenal bellowed, the first sure
word that Vari understood. "See'titdonnahoppan agin!" And with
that, the leader stormed back out of the den.
Vari stood staring at the still-swinging door, which
nearly came off its hinges with the man's anger.
"Father would do ... what?" Vari asked himself.
"Stick with his oath? Or ..."
Vari decided that while he wanted to continue
playing with the injured and already-sick, he really ought to concentrate
more on learning about dragons and flying. That at least would keep him
relatively occupied, and out of trouble, until the second hatching.
And after that... Anything goes...
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