The unbearable lightness of being

It took a long moment as he pulled himself (not all of himself) back, hearing Br'son's voice. He took no notice of the various people around them, just the other queenrider. "She's blooding." His voice was distant, but none of the usual sullenness touched it, just - his mind was clearly elsewhere.

In a pen, surrounded by broken, blood-drained bodies, and a wrathful shadow splattered in red, absorbing light as she pulled the heat from beasts.

But he listened, and responded.

"I'm not leaving without him." Asteriel said, suddenly and swinging her head around to look back at E'zen. Her golden hair slung over her should and a curl had fallen across her brow but she didn't care.

'Stay with him.' the words came back again and again, like a chant. She shook her head lightly at M'dian and folded her arms demurely before her.

"I'm not leaving without him." she repeated firmly.

On the Hunting Grounds, Emanoth licked his blood stained muzzle and watched Aliseth. His skin was flushed with heat and he was aching to fly. He paced a little and when Osgilath strayed to near, Emanoth snapped his jaws at him. His eyes whirled bloody red and orange.

Stay with her. Whatever you do, stay with her. Asteriel's voice came back to him like a plea.

"Good enough," Br'son muttered, and then without another word, he took off at a dead sprint for the entrance. Yllaveth crouched, letting out a low, warning rumble, and the Weyrsenior vaulted into place on her neck. In a move that Ashrah would probably have criticized at any other time, they launched without the benefit of straps or gear, and after a single downbeat, the great titan queen went between

Casriel watched him go and, for a moment, thought about giving chase. She decided against it; Br'son needed to be with Yllaveth. There was no place on Pern Maraxith couldn't get to. Once some time had passed, Casriel would have her Cobalt request the audience. For now, there was still work to be done. Ashrah was heading after M'drist and the rest of the Weyrlings who didn't ride Quartz. Casriel looked at Abry, Vianne and M'dian.

"Go with your Weyrling Master." she said. To the rest of the Hall, Casriel lifted voice.

"Alright Weyrfolk, this is for all intents and purposes a junior queen flight. All youngsters to the Creche, Candidates to Candidate Master Brielody and everyone else, get somewhere you can ride it out. Weyrling Master Ashrah is taken all the Weyrlings back to the barracks." Casriel paced the length of the Mess Hall, so that everyone could hear her. Her eyes flicked over to E'zen and Asteriel.

"Someone get the other chasing riders up here. If White Lightning is to be a proper Weyr, it shall have a proper queen flight. All chasing riders should be present."

With Br'son gone, he heard a voice - or maybe the voice had been before? Either way - he heard a voice, or voices, and turned toward Revel and Asteriel. He had trouble focusing on who or what was around him, with the image of torn-up herdbeasts imposing itself on his vision any time he tried, but managed to orient toward the two women regardless, shaking off any hands that might have tried to help him.

With Yllaveth gone, Aliseth raised her head suddenly. The only two presences that had any hope of checking her were gone. She had already given into her rider once (gracelessly, bitterly, with a great deal of fight, but all the same), and was in no mood to do so again.

So what was left?

Her neck snapped down, and she grabbed the nearest broken herdbeast and flung it toward a cluster of pressing males, wings mantling.

Silent threat, silent challenge, followed by a tearing lunge into the sky.

She had the straightforward grace of a born hunter, instinct and power, just a hint of the true skill she might one day develop. She'd been flying all of three months, three grueling months that had emphasized stamina and strength.

So words that didn't apply: fancy, thrilling, skilled, breathtaking. Words that did: lethal, free, focused, FREE.

And under those flooding, rending, drowning emotions, E'zen was lost.

Dividia hadn't moved when tension exploded into motion - she had no reason to get in between antsy dragonriders, and it hadn't taken her long to know that beyond dragons, it was not wise to get in the middle of queens' drama.

Even Divisk moved warily around Yllaveth, and to a smaller extent, her shadow daughters. He would never call it that, but all the same.

She looked, if anything, curious as the boy she'd brought back tackled his 'senior, a melee broke out, some agreement was made, and various parties went various ways.

What she was most interested in, if the tilt of her head said anything, was Casriel's instant move to take control of the situation. She put together what she had heard of queen flights and experiences of the scarlets' mating races, and finally felt the rising energy around them. Not overwhelming, but then there was the flat wall between her and it - Divisk, even asleep, giving her an extra layer or protection. Her lips curved, and she sat up.

"There are small rooms off here, if...privacy would be better?" she said, pitching her voice to carry, though her eyes were firmly on Casriel. Certainly the boy was in no state to answer.

J'ril tried to stop Treyath.  He clamped down on their link, trying to fend off the brown's growing excitement.  The word 'no' was a constant litany in his head as he watched the queenriders across the room.

Treyath was not going to chase a freak.  Much as J'ril might have allowed himself to appreciate the violent nature of the shadows had they hatched within the normal color range, they weren't right.  Queens were meant to be gold, not silvery blue or black.  Let the other mutants have her.  They were welcome to her.

But Treyath had other ideas.  The more he watched Aliseth, her feral power obvious in the way she tore into the herdbeasts, in the rage she displayed when she flung one of her victims his way, the more he wanted to chase, and catch, and join in that display.

Impulsive and stubborn as he could be, it really shouldn't have surprised J'ril that the brown refused to listen.  And yet, he sent his frustration and anger at the situation down their bond, wanting to stop his dragon at all costs.

But it didn't work, couldn't override Treyath's instinctive desire to chase a female, to catch her, to mate with her.  And when Aliseth took off, the young brown was one of the first to follow.

The sound of shattering ceramic accompanied J'ril's sudden shove away from the table where he'd been sitting, the sneer on his face blatantly declaring how much he hated being part of this flight.

Somehow, he was going to keep Treyath from winning, would do whatever he could to slow the brown down, to keep him from getting anywhere near the shadowy freak that should never have hatched.  Somehow, he was going to stop this, wasn't going to wind up in that circle of panting riders just waiting for the end.

Somehow.

Somehow.

Basilath had no such hesitation. A female was blooding? Well, then it was imperative that he blood, too! Because everyone knew that a mating flight was about the best thing ever! So with great enthusiasm, the heavily muscled brown took his place at the edge of the feeding grounds. He blooded three strong beasts and called it good, keeping one canny eye on Aliseth the whole time.

What a wonder she was! Inky dark, but a queen through and through. The brown (and his rider, for that matter) felt the thrill of anticipation arrow through them. What would this dark queen's flight style be? Would she try to outrun them at the start, like a green or a scarlet? Or would she go for altitude as Titan queens and the old golds were wont to do?

Time would tell, but whatever happened, Basilath would be ready. So he watched her, and when she made that ferocious leap into the sky, he was but a half-wingbeat behind her.

***

Back in the dining hall, D'caen blinked and tried to bring enough of his consciousness back to the present in order to get himself up out of the table and find the queen's rider. Was this the one that had Impressed the man or the young girl? By and large, D'caen vastly preferred women, but the thought of the young Teagan in a mating flight made his stomach clench.

Well, if it was so, he'd just have to control himself, and if necessary, anyone else who might try to hurt her. Violently despoiling a queen rider (especially one who was only twelve!) would not happen on his watch. Ever.

Cosenne hadn't been in the mess hall. She had, in fact, been using her midday break to wash off the grime and sweat of an early morning sweep. She'd just submerged her body in the deliciously hot pool formed by the mixture of geo-thermally heated water and icy runoff from the river. The cobaltrider blew out a slow stream of bubbles and let the heat soak into her pleasantly tired muscles. Life, she thought, really was good here.

The young shadow bloods her kills, Fillioth, her cobalt heart said then, his mind-tone a purr of anticipation.

Cosenne opened her eyes under the water and kicked to the surface, shaking her dark hair back from her face as she did so. I see, she said, already reaching for the bank. And will you chase, love of my heart? she asked, even though she knew the answer. A thrill of adrenaline coursed through her, and she didn't know whether it belonged to her or to Fillioth. Not that it truly mattered. They both loved a mating flight. Who didn't?

I will, the cobalt dragon replied as he shifted in place on the edge of the feeding grounds, having bled his own kills dry. He exuded a savage kind of confidence as he watched Aliseth blood. Fillioth would win, because that was what Fillioth did.

Good, Cosenne sent back, on a caressing wave of love and supreme confidence in his supremacy. It is possible that a shadow queen represents the next level of dragonkind. You will sire strong hatchlings on her, I'll wager, with many of the superior colors resulting. She pulled her lithe body out of the water and didn't bother with her clothes. What was the point? It was a mating flight, after all. As a concession to the canyon's perpetual breeze, she wrapped her bathing sheet around her body and sauntered in toward the commotion happening not far away in the Mess Hall.

His rider's clothing, or lack thereof, was of exactly zero concern to Fillioth. He was totally focused on Aliseth's dark form, and when she launched, he was ready. He followed close on her tail as she arrowed up into the impossibly blue sky, and felt the heat of his desire fuel his every wingbeat.

Devonith's warm presence skewed suddenly deeper and more urgent in his head, and I'zak stopped half heartedly attempting to nap in the shadow of his bronze in favor getting out of the way adroitly.

The bronzerider took a moment to watch his great partner stretch and lift off for the hunting grounds before realizing he should probably get a move on finding the dark dragon's rider.

He couldn't have said how he figured it out, but he got to the mess hall at just about the same time Aliseth went into the air, which seemed like a good sign.

*
Tsaveth was not the first or even third after the shadow queen, but he didn't need to be. He was fast and clever and knew the tricks of so many of these dragons. He would win. Of course he would.

N'set was grinning - looking at nothing in particular, but that grin would absolutely have gotten wider if he was focused enough to catch sight of Cosenne sauntering into the hall with only a sheet between her and the world.

With the gathering of riders growing ever larger, Revel found herself somewhat hemmed in.  It was something she hadn't expected, the closeness of the other riders grating against her nerves.

Perhaps it was more Sanovith's reaction to the other male dragons surrounding Aliseth.  This being their first mating flight, it was all new.  They'd been told what to expect, of course, but she hadn't grown up in the Weyr-- it was one thing to hear about it, and quite another to feel it.  Then again, even-tempered as her smoke dragon usually was, she wasn't exactly expecting him to feel so… fierce.

Unless it was Aliseth, herself, and all the anger she was radiating…

Whichever the case, Revel had no further time to contemplate what she was feeling, as the shadow queen suddenly launched herself into the air.  Sanovith wasn't as quick to follow as the older, more experienced dragons, but only because this was, again, their first chase, and he wasn't used to anticipating the bunching of muscles that indicated a queen was ready to push off the ground.

Next time he would be faster.  But for now, he would follow, and fly, and catch, if Aliseth chose him.

On the ground, the image of the shadow queen ahead of him was superimposing itself onto Revel's own vision, and she caught at something-- or someone-- nearby to steady herself.  It was disorienting, even though they'd practiced some of the merging.  But Sanovith's desire and drive to win soon drew her into the flight, and all she could feel was the air under her wings as she pumped them hard, determined to fight for all she was worth.  Determined to win.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

R'fariel wasn't entirely sure how he and the others managed to make it up to the Mess Hall when they'd been down by what had been designated as a flight weyr.  Someone had come and gotten them, or they figured it out on their own.  Either way, they ended up in the same place as the queenrider, which was good enough for him.

Not that he wouldn't have preferred it to be V'tayn or Kyabree on the other end of the flight… he didn't know E'zen well, and had no idea how the young man would react to Vorganth winning his queen's flight.

Not that it was guaranteed, obviously, but both rider and cobalt were pretty convinced they had a fighting chance.  Aliseth wasn't yet fully grown, and she wouldn't have developed the tricky maneuvers adult queens made to evade their pursuers.  But that didn't mean she would be easy to catch.

Vorganth was certainly looking forward to the challenge, and crouched low once he'd finished blooding his kills, patiently watching, and waiting.  When she went up, he was ready, and almost appeared to flow into the air as he leaped after her.

His brilliant red gaze was fixed on its target, where it would remain steadily, never wavering.  He had no pretty words for her-- not that the young queen would necessarily respond to them.  But he would show her with his flying that he was a worthy mate, and the obvious choice, regardless of what any of the others did.

Surely, she'd be able to see that, wouldn't she?

She had only ever flown with Eniseth, Yllaveth in the same airspace at times. This, a cluster of minds who wanted pressing behind her, trying to close on her, claim her - she cast her mind back, feeling the familiar, the new, and tensed even as she increased her speed.

Aliseth turned so fast it looked like she doubled back on herself, diving sword-straight for the closer brown that dared - dared! - to chase her. She hit Treyath talons first - missing (hopefully on purpose) his wingsails and delicate joints, but tearing gouges down his back and knocking him hard off course.

She stayed on him as he floundered, but her attention shifted. Hissing, red-eyed, she allowed all her suitors to hear, but targeting only the bronze, blue, browns. I am not for you. She knew, and didn't need to put into words, the tensions between 'her' dragons and those older colors that had joined them. And so she sent it back to them in a powerful wave - the rejection, the betrayal, the hurt and loss and anger/anger/anger that she'd absorbed from the shell, that their riders - or riders like them - had caused.

And then, a single blast: GO.

It was not the inescapable demand of a golden queen, or the indomitable will of the senior titanium. It was an inexorable push, coated in ice, that said clearly: obey, or take the consequences. Flashing eyes, bloody talons, and bared teeth made it no idle threat.

Then using the wind of Treyath's passage, she rocketed as close to straight up as a dragon could manage.

Basilath's strong wingstrokes faltered as the shadow queen's ferocity impacted his mind. He strove valiantly to recover, but at that point it was too late. Not that it would have mattered, anyway. Aliseth had made it very clear that she was not interested in him, or any like him.

I've done nothing to hurt you, dark queen, he said, his mind tone wounded and bewildered. You only drive the wedge between us all deeper with your actions. But choose as you will. For you are queen here. And none of us have gainsaid that. With this last gentle/not-gentle reminder, Basilath angled his wings to peel away from the pack that trailed after Aliseth's dark form.

In the Mess Hall, D'caen stumbled, and only barely managed to check himself from driving his fist into E'zen's vacant-eyed face. Rage on his brown's behalf burned through him, and one of the other chasers wasn't so lucky as D'caen turned to leave the cluster of bodies surrounding the weyrling queenrider. Someone (he never did see who) got in his way, and got a jab to the gut for their trouble.

D'caen stalked away, seeking cold water and hard liquor, in that order. He was so angry, not even the prospect of a woman tempted him right now. Cold water and hard liquor. That was what he needed.

***

Fillioth felt a stab of triumph as Aliseth made her decree. How right she was! How strong and brave, and how incredibly powerful for one so young. He thought about reaching out to her, praising her judgement, but in the end discarded that notion. Bronzes of old were said to have wooed the queens they chased. He was no bronze, but rather something better. Words were cheap, he would woo with action.

So he drove his wings against the thinning air and followed her meteoric rise. He'd stay with her, he'd show her that he was the one for her. A new order had begun.

Cosenne let out a low, delighted laugh and pressed closer to E'zen through the crowd. She may or may not have still held her bathing sheet around her body. She neither knew, nor cared.

Unmitigated scorn answered Basilath, spiraled out to them all.

Freak, she'd heard, echoed through minds from riders to dragons. There was a reason she'd attacked Treyath, not just his closeness.

Some would never learn, perhaps some few would, and truly, she hardly cared. Now she would be chased by the worthy. Now, they would see.

Imioth began to chase with the other males, feeling he had just as good a chance as any of them. Somehow Sh'lor managed to make it to the Dining Cavern where E'zen was. And though he wasn't all that happy about this situation himself, he certainly wasn't expecting what was to come.

As Treyath was injured by the inky, dark Queen, Imioth took to flying a little bit out of her immediate sights. He was keeping his distance, for now. At least that was what he was trying to do when she made her order like request. The brown knew better than to continue to try even if part of him wanted to prove her wrong.

Sh'lor's face was a mixture of emotions as he came out of his own bleary eyed flight lust. What in the name of Faranth's Golden Egg had just happened?! Imioth was livid, flying low back to his ledge. The irritation at being rejected before he'd even attempted grated on him.

As his mind settled and he began to walk back to his own weyr, pushing back the feelings of lust that threatened to take hold of him, a smile splayed on his face. If the intention was to alienate the old guard dragons, she had done it. Now it would be that much easier to find other people who felt the new dragons were just as bad as they had painted them to be before they had kicked them out. Who was to say they weren't responsible for the epidemic? Who was to say they could be trusted? They didn't want to allow people other than "them" in real positions of power. "Them" being the sympathizers as well as those of the mutated colors.

He was practically a feral man walking when he reached his own weyr and locked himself in. Sh'lor had a lot to think about.

Aliseth was airborne in the bat of an eye and the air seemed to the groan with the sudden pressure of all the male responding. The older male dragons seemed to vault skyward in a bound but Emanoth was buffeted for a moment by the tremendous air fluctuation. The young smoke dragon turned his head against the lashing wind and the grit that kicked up around him. A large blue body rushed by him and leapt into the air. Thoroth gave a trumpet of excitement, his wings catching the sunlight and throwing cyan glory in their passing. Manticath’s bellow of challenge seemed to shake the marrow of Emanoth’s bones but he turned his narrow head back to the dark majesty of Aliseth, shrinking in the sky as she flew onward. Taking a deep breath, Emanoth’s muscle exploded as he sprang into the air. He could feel the power of the blood churning in his belly; it ran down the lines of his body like fire. Osgilath was eager and quickly overtook the young Smoke dragon but Emanoth flew on. The midnight blue grace Cobalt answered Manticath’s bellow with a snarl. Emanoth peeled away from the larger males, forcing himself to rise steadily and not too quickly. Thortoth was handing back from the other males, pacing himself. Emanoth thought that it was the wisest course of action to conserve his strength and endurance, copying Thortoth.

Copying Thortoth was wise and as the blue suddenly veered off, so did Emanoth. It was a good thing they had done so just then, as Aliseth turned and launched herself at the males. It was Treyath would could not avoid her and Emanoth’s eyes whirled quickly as he tasted blood upon the air. Her talons flashed darkly as an obsidian at sunset and suddenly her voice seemed to fill the expanse of both air and the collective minds of the males.

Thortoth wanted to mate but he was a blue dragon and therefore no match for Aliseth’s power. With a mournful cry, he dropped out of the race. Manticath halted his flight, his great bronze wings beating against the air in heavy protest. Seeing Treyath’s bright blood on Aliseth’s claws, the bronze shook his head and dropped to follow Thortoth. Emanoth slipped behind a cloud and passed Osgilath, who had paused in his rapid pursue to stare at the exchange between Aliseth and Treyath. He bared his own fangs and snapped his jaws at the both browns; Imioth was as unwelcome here as Treyath. Osgilath slipped over in the air, doing a roll but snaking up high into the air after Aliseth. Ahead of him, Emanoth soared. He caught a thermal as he began his ascent upwards and it pushed him with effortless grace.
------

The bronze, browns and blues are returning. Maraxith’s midvoice came to Casriel full of concern as well as awe. Casriel looked up and sure enough, the sky was full of Old Guard males.

Why? What is going on? Casriel demanded. They could not possibly be all played out so early in the Flight. Aliseth couldn’t have been caught yet. There had been not nearly enough time for her to get high enough for a safe drop, nor far enough to have a good clutch distribution.

Aliseth has banished all Old Guard males from her flight.

She can do that!? Casriel was stunned.

She has done that. Maraxith replied. He sounded impressed to Casriel.

Take me to Yllaveth! Casriel commanded, vaulting to her cobalt’s.

Maraxith reached out strongly with his mind, called out to Yllaveth. His question was respect and simply but laced his rider's urgency.
-----

Asteriel's eyes were wide, two round orbs of blue and her mouth parted slightly. She could feel the tension and desire of her dragon, far in the sky above her. She could also feel the rising warmth of the riders closed around E'zen. Sweat beaded her forehead and a solitary drop fell from her brow to her neckline, darkening the fabric. Something brushed her hand and she blinked, recognizing L'thyr from the next class up. She blinked and once again focused on E'zen. She wanted to move closer, to feel his breath on her skin. To graze his hand with her own but she didn't dare. There was too much riding on the success of Aliseth's flight. Her heart was racing, her hair damp down her back in gold curls darkened by sweat.

Stay with her.. she whispered to Emanoth.

That young shadow continues to be a challenge Yllaveth replied to Maraxith, with a mildness that belied her seething anger.  For three months, the recalcitrant young queen had fought her senior at every turn.  Now, it seemed, the anger and heat of a mating flight had found an extreme expression in Aliseth.  Come to me, my wingleader.  Unless you wish to join the chase.  Perhaps you should, at that.  A strong male like you would be a steadying influence on our challenging one, she added, sending Maraxith the visualization of her current location. She and Br'son had found it not long ago, on one of their sweeps.   A high plateau, baked in the sun, with a panoramic vista of the painted desert below.  It had a beauty and a peace that soothed Yllaveth, and the quiet gave Br'son some much needed peace.

Treyath roared, the sound an anguished mix of pain, anger, and disbelief, when Aliseth's claws tore into his hide.  He hadn't been expecting her to turn so quickly, had been about to applaud his own luck at finding her suddenly right in his path.  Instead, he found himself the object of her wrath, the unwilling victim she chose to make an example of for all the rest.

This wasn't at all what he'd had in mind when he'd decided to chase, when he'd wanted to join with her.  No, it was far from it, and he couldn't help but feel momentarily lost, completely confused.  His wings faltered despite the lack of damage-- the pain in his back was enough to make him cringe with every tiny movement, the sharpness of the shadow queen's talons causing each gouge to burn like flame.  But his instincts soon took over, keeping him upright, keeping him stable.

There was no thought to stay; he'd have taken himself home even had Aliseth not ordered the others to leave.  The pain was too great, the bewilderment at being attacked (and his rider's rising anger at the same) drawing his attention away from the chase, cooling the mating lust flowing through his veins.  And so, the brown made his careful, agonizing way back down to the canyon, hoping to find some relief once he got there.

----------------

J'ril's own corresponding cry was likely still reverberating through the Mess Hall.  The brownrider had fallen to his knees on the stone floor, momentarily unaware of where he was or how he got there as he was linked so closely with his dragon.

But as Treyath's ardor began to cool, corresponding fury began to rise in the human half of the pair.  How dare that freak hurt Treyath?  How dare the others let her get away with it!  This was what happened when they allowed the mutants live.

Seething, J'ril pushed to his feet, his gaze locked on E'zen across the Mess Hall.  Fists clenched, he took one step, then another, ready to charge through the pack of waiting riders to get to the man and take him down.  If he got rid of the rider, then the queen would--

It was Treyath's mental whimper that cut through his ire.  The call from his lifemate gave him pause, drew his attention away for long enough that he remembered he needed to tend to his brown first.

Snarling ineffectually at the injustice of it all, J'ril still stood there for a moment, his chest heaving, before he was finally able to make his limbs move.  He would deal with the queenrider later.  And the rest of them.

For now, Treyath was what mattered most.  And then… they would pay.

Vorganth gave little thought to the brown Aliseth had attacked.  He was simply being forcefully shown his presence was unwanted.  He'd have done better to stay out of the shadow queen's way-- he and the others would know better for next time now.

True to form, the cobalt kept his focus fully on the shadow queen ahead, ignoring the curl of smug triumph coming from his rider at the way J'ril and Treyath were forced to leave the race.  He would not be distracted, for he meant to win-- and Aliseth deserved nothing less than his complete attention.

>>>>>>>>>>>

Sanovith wasn't entirely sure what to make of Treyath's sudden ejection from the chase.  It wasn't something he'd expected, given his limited knowledge of such things as chasing rising females.  But, Aliseth wasn't warning him, or Emanoth, off.  Only those who were blue, brown, or bronze.  And that meant he still had a chance.

Yes, it meant he was still flying against older cobalts, but he wasn't going to let that stop him.  He was smarter than they-- he was better at observing, at waiting for the right moment.  And when he saw it, he planned on taking full advantage.

She is a bastion of power and strength. She gets that from her Dam. Maraxith said as his powerful shoulders bunched. Having gotten the exact coordinates from Yllaveth, he passed them onto Casriel. As an afterthought, he shared them also with Victory. There was a gold flash in the air above the Weyr and vaulting skyward, Maraxith slid between.

'Black, blacker, blackest...' Casriel recited to herself, sweeping a stray strand of gold hair back from her face. Then the blue sky was swallowed in a parting of bitter cold and endless blackness.

'Good luck, Asteriel.'
---------------------

You were right, Aliseth. Look how high we are, how full of life and how free. Emanoth marveled as the wind whistled past his wings and coolly licked down the fire of his body. His voice was full of wonder as he rose into the air, the sunlight spangling off his misty grey hide. His eyes whirled all the colors of excitement and pleasure, showing little aggression. His heart was full of joy for the flight, full of joy for the chase.

Osgilath had no wondrous words or grand observations. He had only the powerful snap of his dark wings. He had only the knowledge of being of Maraxith's line, his midnight azure and shadow hide gleaming darkly. Strength sang through the thrust and snap of his long wings and his lust slithered in his belly like the blood he had drank of.

Devonith swerved, disbelieving. He hadn't - his rider hadn't - how could -

Come home, his rider called, shaking the flight-fog away. I'zak's thoughts started racing, even as they slowly disengaged from the heat of chase, as he backed away from the knot of riders around E'zen.

It's not about us, he said, more grimly than he'd ever speak aloud. It was and it wasn't. As if they didn't have enough problems in this canyon.

**
Aliseth had lost interest in everything once her threat was delivered and received. Almost everything.

The dizzying heights called to her - she had never flown so high, or so fast. Steady, repetitive, perhaps a dash here or there, but not full-speed, pushing herself as hard and fast as she could go.

And so she went, higher, further, the unbearable press of the males behind her lessened once the worst of them peeled off. Behind her now were minds more familiar, two more familiar than the rest.

She sent wordless encouragement to Sanovith and Emanoth, sharp and dark but real.

It said, without saying, 'catch up, if you can.'

Emanoth crooned low in the back of his throat; to feel that endlessly dark and cool power across him made his stomach press against him and the rush of air in a moment became a song. He stretched his pale wings as wide as he dared and pushed. The air was growing cooler as they rocketed through the clouds. Emanoth kept an eye on Aliseth but angled for the cloud cover. With just the right about of moisture, he seemed to blend into the fluffy expanse like a ghost. The clouds petered out and he left trails of them behind as he sped by. He kept on, rising to Aliseth's call. His wings were beginning to ache slightly and the heat sparkled across his senses like a thousand burning stars.

Such heat and such fire, alongside such cool mist and water. Smoke and shadow, dancing in night cool air. Rising in gem bright day. Emanoth's voice was genly and echoed as if far away. His mind muddled with his rider's and all of Asteriel's thoughts were of the sweetest poetry and love songs she had hear over her life. His eyes whirled like a whirlpool of bright colored paint, running and swirling. Green into blue and into yellow to pink and back again.

Now was the time. Fillioth could feel it in the air. He stroked his wings hard, harder, pulling himself through the air, using the movement of the other chasers to his advantage. Until he closed in just behind Aliseth's darkness and one of the smoke dragons. With a last burst of energy, Fillioth angled his wings to climb up, high enough to have the altitude advantage. High enough to dive down and entangle Aliseth with his wings, his power, and his lust.

The climb burned at his shoulders, but the cobalt dragon pushed through. When he'd reached a level several -lengths above, Fillioth took a deep breath and folded his wings, entering a dive that would either end in victory...

or disappointment.

Aliseth, at every level, knew who her rider preferred. It was not nearly as secret as he believed, and could never be a mystery to her.

She loved her rider, as deeply and as truly as any dragon, but Aliseth's love was not a gentle, warm thing. It was thorns and sharp edges, pressing what might be better for her rider over what he might want.

Point the first.

She considered now, having reached an altitude where the air was thin enough to barely drag against her, the males who chased her. Deep cobalts and shadowy smokes, two she knew well and the rest who flew with skill. More skill than her smokes.

Point the second.

The strongest and best should win her. Her love was not easy, E'zen would forgive.

They flew with more skill than she, these cobalts. Even in the heat of flight, her hide burning against the cold around her, that rankled.

Point the third.

And so, when Fillioth forced the issue, diving, plummeting, she nearly missed him, her thoughts spinning in a vortex of want and need. He had outflown her. He had surprised her. He should have won. That was how flights worked.

But she did not give her loyalty lightly, this shadow queen, and her pride was stung. On instinct and rage alone, she immediately pulled her wings close, and spun. Faster than her rider could possible have borne, faster than the maelstrom in her mind, faster than a cobalt, no matter how skilled, could react.

And so she fell, angled away from Fillioth, but toward - toward.

Her love was a violent, insatiable thing, and she wielded it perfectly.

The sky opened up the higher he flew and the icy air stung in Emanoth's chest. His shoulders ached where his wings attached themselves and his mouth was parted for his heavy breathing. His eyes went orange suddenly as the cobalt made his move. For a moment is cool temper flashed sudden fire at the thought of Aliseth captured. This flight was too wonderful, too perfect to end.

Aliseth evaded Fillioth suddenly. Her sudden movement put her in Emanoth's path. Instinct suddenly kicked into overdrive and Emanoth's spread his wings to meet her. His pale neck twined with Aliseth's, her dark body meeting his pale mist with a sensation like melting. His eyes whirled sapphire blue and he crooned deep in his chest.

Aliseth!