Queth welcomed the presence of his fellow Weyrling, sending him a brief brush of thanks and sympathy. There would be time for more later, as the snarling beast in front of him was not going to allow him much more than that brush. The other charged him, and he reared up to avoid being stomped on. Their foreclaws met and dashed across each others forelimbs and shoulders as they each tried for an opening to get in a bite. Their hindlimbs kept sliding in the torn up ground below them, and eventually they were forced to separate or fall. Regaining their footing took only a moment before they were back to it, raining clawmarks about each other again.
Again and again they clashed, each momentarily gaining the upper hand at one point, before the sliding forced them to release again. The last time brought Queth an advantage as it forced his enemy to turn, exposing his flank. Dashing forward, he was quick to sink his teeth and claws in, attempting to maintain grasp. The frantic bucking that accompanied the other's bellows eventually knocked him off, and at a shout from its Rider it was trying to take off into the sky again. Queth instantly followed, his bulk hindering his upward speed, but not by much compared to the frantically flapping other.
In the air, there was a whole new range of movement to their combat. Twists and turns made harsh blows glance off, spinning creating more momentum, but also left more space to be taken off guard. They would retreat and gain altitude, then fly together again in a clash of limbs, dropping quickly. Queth carefully kept his barrage toward the front and the sides, the twisting in his gut at the thought of harming the human Rider keeping him from attacking the back as much as the Rider's brandished sword. The other brown had no such qualms, and Queth was doubly glad he had made L'cin get off of him.
A strike across the enemy's abdomen severed a few straps of the shoddy harness, and Queth had an idea. Taking a few extra blows so he could aim for those, he weakened the harness to the breaking point. On the next pass, he surprised the other by swerving to his back for the first time. Grabbing a mouthful of strap, he yanked hard and felt the last of it break, separating the flailing Rider from his dragon. Holding tightly to it, he then sought to tear into the exposed back of his foe. A wingsail was torn here, a shoulder muscle there. Queth did his best to keep his position, even as the other thrashed and attempted to reclaim his bonded. Queth registered that it was actually rather cruel of him, but not as much as what would have happened otherwise.
Getting a solid hold on the frenetic rogue brown, Queth angled them toward the ground. The other was too concentrated on trying to turn about and reclaim His that he wasn't aware of the dropping altitude until much too late. Letting go with a shove, Queth did his best to pull up from the dive at the last moment he could. There was a sickening sound as the other slammed into the ground, alive for only a moment more, which he used to slip
between. Queth himself hadn't pulled up quite fast enough, and found himself skidding on his claws off to the side. When one stuck as he was finally slowing down, he hastily released the straps in his mouth to keep from toting along the Rider as he tumbled. Tucking in as best he could, he felt a very slight wrench and the sting of dirt in his wounds, but was thankful that he hadn't broken a wing. Righting himself, he looked up in time to see the Rider free himself from his tattered harness. Screaming in rage, he ran toward Queth with sword raised. Queth roared at him harshly, pressing a violence of thought into his mind. The Rider balked, now somewhat afraid, and then screamed again at the agony of losing his partner. Before Queth could dart forth to pin him, the man turned his sword on himself and joined his bonded in death.
Queth keened loudly. He had tried to save the human, even if he had killed the dragon! He'd failed at that, even if he hadn't landed the strike himself. Turning his distraught mind toward L'cin, he sought the consolation of his bonded. Instead he felt the pain, fury, and panic that had taken hold of him, and in an instant he was charging back toward the pens.
I'm coming!.o0O0o.
L'cin managed to only get one strike in with his shovel before it was ripped away from him by the much stronger man. Despite how hard he'd been hit, the man didn't even do more than stagger once before turning and grabbing hold. L'cin was knocked back, falling hard on his rear but trying to grab hold of the shovel again. The man ended up toppling over with him, and in retaliation pressed the handle of the shovel down against L'cin's throat.
Gasping for breath and clawing uselessly at the wood with one hand, he could feel his lungs burning as his vision flickered. The other hand was scrabbling along his side, trying desperately to free his beltknife. Finally finding the clip and freeing it, he thrust it upward into the man's chest. His fear for his life was what pulled his hand back to thrust again. And again. And again. He forgot how many times he did it, but he didn't cease until the man collapsed atop him. Gasping in precious oxygen, L'cin wriggled out from beneath him and scrambled away, shuddering in revulsion. He'd...he'd just killed a man. Wide eyes stared back at him from the corpse, and he bent forward retching violently for a moment. A scream from one of the younger stablehands was what brought him back into the moment, the shock having dulled his hearing to block out the clanging of weapons and shouts of men.
Darting up from his knees, L'cin drew the other small knife from his boot and rejoined the fray. The younger boy was yanked back just before a rearing herdbeast could do the job of the attackers, and quickly obeyed when L'cin growled at him to run. Movement quickly drew his attention to the side, and he had barely dodged back before an arcing blade whirled by him. It just barely caught him across his cheek, but it was better than the alternative - the attacker had been looking to take off his head. Gripping his two knives harder, he steeled himself to fight again. The man swung again, aiming for his stomach, and L'cin just managed to arc back his midsection. L'cin was untrained, but fast; however, so was his opponent. It was almost like a deadly dance as L'cin dodged, darted, and spun to avoid the swipes of the blade, unable to find an opening to sweep in to start his own attack before he had to move back again. Not paying attention to the action around him, another fighter got in a slash to his back. L'cin's breath caught as he waited for the pain, but thankfully the thickness of his leather riding jerkin had taken the malicious strike for him.
And that is why we wear them even in the middle of the hottest summers, supplied that odd bit of his mind that was so out of place for the situation.
The second fighter was thankfully distracted by a group of stablehands, but his pause had still cost him precious time. He did manage to dodge the blow that would have come down on his right shoulder, but the tip of the blade still sliced down the length of his upper arm. He cried out in shock and pain, the sight of his own blood setting a rushing in his ears. Fury bubbled up in him, unlike any before, replacing the fear. These were the men who hurt his people, his queen, his Weyr. These people would take from them for no reason. These people would hurt his people without regard. One of theirs had hurt his comrades, his friends, and
his dragon. And now...now they dared to hurt
him too. He would
not stand by and allow it. Issuing his own yell of blinding rage, he deftly ducked away from the next attack, batting the man's hand away. Lunging forward, he swung down, burying both of his knives to the hilt in the man's chest. It was he who fell atop his attacker this time, the force of his lunge carrying them both to the ground. A blood tinged wheeze was heard as they hit the hard-packed dirt - and then nothing. L'cin sat there, panting and seething, for only Faranth knew how long, his hands never once letting up their grip on the knives still buried in the enemy's chest.
What brought him back from the brink of his fury was the touch of his dragon's mind, and then the world snapped back into place.
I'm coming! 'It's alright, Queth. I'm alright,'[/i] he assured his mindmate, though his own mindvoice had a frightening flatness to it. Finally letting his hands drop back, he stared down at the chest of the man he'd killed. He couldn't bring himself to look into the face of this one. Around him, the sounds of battle quieted, the last of the attackers captured or killed. The stablehands took to calming the terrified beasts that still rushed around them, trying to prevent any more injuries.
...L'cin? Queth's voice was worried, the muted feelings passing from the human side of their connection not making much sense. It was his dragon's worry that allowed him to finally rise, drawing his knives back from the man's chest; that out-of-sync practical part of his mind saying it wasn't a good idea to leave them behind.
Quietly, he shuffled over to where his dragon waited a decent distance from the pens, not wishing to scare the herdbeasts any more. He stopped just in front of the brown giant, lifting his head. Their eyes met for just a moment, and that was all that was needed. Without words, they shared their horror and their sorrow, the hollowness left in the anger's wake. Stumbling forward to fall against his dragon's foreleg, L'cin dropped his weapons thoughtlessly and let the tears finally spill over. As he clung there and sobbed, the great brown curled up around him, enclosing them in his wings. Together they rode out the maelstrom of their emotions, forgetting the world around them for an unknown length of time. Thankfully, as if sensing their need, the stablehands left them to themselves.
When L'cin pulled back, it was with a guilty jerk. He'd vaguely registered the shout that the whole Weyr was under attack some time ago, and now two faces flashed into his mind in rapid succession. His sister, his twin, his best friend - thankfully, it took only a moment for Queth to search out the mind of Feynth, a triumphant feeling emanating from him, and they knew that S'ren must still be okay. The next was a newer face, one that he would have been a bit more embarrassed over thinking of so quickly had the day not drained him of any ability to be embarrassed. But Asileth lived still, so of course K'vin did as well. Another sob of relief passed his lips, and he relaxed. He would find them when he got back, just to make sure of their safety with his own two eyes. He might need his sister first before he could find the strength to approach the other boy. ...Possibly a trip to the infirmary too, for both he and Queth.
Shaky as he was, it took four tries to get his knives back in their sheathes. Queth almost had to pick him up to get him back in the saddle, and then they ambled back to the Weyr, Queth too bone-weary to fly again. The whole ride back, Queth reached for the minds of their dragon-friends, checking one by one to see if they all yet lived.
((Since the Touching battle isn't over yet and I'm not certain what K'vin would do, I left it vague. Kristin said she wasn't going to kill either of her boys, so...I figured it would be okay?))