Post by Katlyn on Jul 6, 2012 19:20:05 GMT -5
The Search of the night before had ended, in all regards, successfully. The candidate who had gone missing had been found, very much alive, and was resting in the infirmary at least for another day, perhaps two. Il'ran had been relieved when they had found the young girl holed up in a cave that, up until that night, had been undiscovered. But even as he had flown the skies over the island that he and his fellow riders now called home in this time line, something in the far off distance had caught his eye. If there was one thing that Il'ran had a knack, or even gift for, it was spotting those things that generally went unseen by the rest around him. He had aways been good at such things; it was why the Harper of their time had pulled him for various, so-called 'diplomatic' missions, before he had Impressed to his bronze Salmalinth. Like him, the bronze was quite good at spotting the normally unseen.
What the pair had seen the night before was enough to concern the bronze and his rider. The storm had blown in rather fiercely by the end of the night, and for all it had come on with great speed, it now seemed to be in absolutely no hurry to leave. Il'ran remembered only the very basics of weather from his studies Turns ago, but what he did remember was unless something was amiss elsewhere, storms normally blew out in the course of a few hours, maybe a full day at the most. This storm's presence was now going, unrelenting, for nearly 24 candlemarks. Far too long, under regular circumstances. But he knew, too, that there could be a perfectly natural reason for the storm's continued presence.
The bronze-rider finally decided to bundle himself up tight, wearing a double layer of thick pants, a thick high-necked shirt under another thick shirt, with a furred coat, boots, and gloves to boot, all underneath the normal flying gear he possessed. By the time it was all said and done, it was any wonder that he was able to mount his waiting bronze, but mount he did, pulling the hood and high neck tight against his face. As the pair rose into the skies over the island, they were challenged by a tiny blue. They would be back by nightfall, the bronze promised, before turning southeast as his rider directed.
It only took a short amount of time before the pair cleared the wind and clouds of the storm that hovered over their home, and just a slightly longer time for the air to warm up enough for Il'ran to loosen his clothes enough to breath. A few hours later, Il'ran knew what the cause of the lingering storm was. As the pair hovered over a glistening sea, it was almost too warm this far south to be dressed they way they were. This, he knew, was a natural occurring thing. A heavy, warm air pocket keeping the frigid air of the blizzard in place. He also knew that the too air masses would eventually work themselves out and the blizzard would move on. But something he saw beneath him, still concerned him. They were too far south for the the amount of large ice chunks he had seen on their trip south. So, in curiosity, the pair turned north.
It took no time at all for the cold temperatures to return and the bronze rider to bundle himself back up again. The further north he went, the closer to the snowy wastes he got, the more ice chunks he saw. It was still sunny here, though the water below him was quite rough indeed. Perhaps the surface wind was moving rather fast. Unwilling to test that theory, the pair would eventually turn West.
By evening, they had hit another storm. Not the same storm that was beating the Weyr up, but a second storm sitting over the cold northern sea, simply waiting it's turn to hit the weyr. He'd seen more and more ice traveling south, forced there by ocean and wind currents. Suddenly he realized why the traders that were due days before hadn't yet arrived. These storms must have been brewing and forcing the ice south for at least a sevenday, if not more. He was convinced with what he saw, ready to turn home, but Salmalinth urged them west.
Now, they were racing the sun across Pern's sky, though they weren't winning. The sun had nearly set when they hit a second storm. This storm still seemed small compared to the first that he had run into since leaving the weyr, but it was enough to concern him. Hoping that it wouldn't follow the same air path as the other too, they continued on just a bit longer. By the time the moons had risen near midnight, off in the distance Il'ran could see the coastline near where Benden would lay, had it still existed. His bronze, tired from their rather extensive flight of the day, lowered in altitude to take a short break on the coastline, but there, they were hit with what they hadn't seen from the sky. Wind, ice, and snow attacked the pair as they tried to land. Il'ran had seen enough.
Moments later, no longer than it took to cough three times, the pair appeared over the weyr. The blue that had been on duty that morning had been replaced by a green. An angry green at that, who berated them for having been gone so long. They had said they would be back by nightfall, and now it was after midnight. The bronze apologized sleepily before landing on his ledge. Exhausted, Il'ran pulled off just enough clothes to rub some warm oil into his bronze's body and cover him up with some blankets he'd brought up from stores before pulling off all but a single layer of clothes and falling asleep.
That night he dreamt of snow storms attacking the Weyr. What brewed beyond was more trouble than the Weyr was ready for.
What the pair had seen the night before was enough to concern the bronze and his rider. The storm had blown in rather fiercely by the end of the night, and for all it had come on with great speed, it now seemed to be in absolutely no hurry to leave. Il'ran remembered only the very basics of weather from his studies Turns ago, but what he did remember was unless something was amiss elsewhere, storms normally blew out in the course of a few hours, maybe a full day at the most. This storm's presence was now going, unrelenting, for nearly 24 candlemarks. Far too long, under regular circumstances. But he knew, too, that there could be a perfectly natural reason for the storm's continued presence.
The bronze-rider finally decided to bundle himself up tight, wearing a double layer of thick pants, a thick high-necked shirt under another thick shirt, with a furred coat, boots, and gloves to boot, all underneath the normal flying gear he possessed. By the time it was all said and done, it was any wonder that he was able to mount his waiting bronze, but mount he did, pulling the hood and high neck tight against his face. As the pair rose into the skies over the island, they were challenged by a tiny blue. They would be back by nightfall, the bronze promised, before turning southeast as his rider directed.
It only took a short amount of time before the pair cleared the wind and clouds of the storm that hovered over their home, and just a slightly longer time for the air to warm up enough for Il'ran to loosen his clothes enough to breath. A few hours later, Il'ran knew what the cause of the lingering storm was. As the pair hovered over a glistening sea, it was almost too warm this far south to be dressed they way they were. This, he knew, was a natural occurring thing. A heavy, warm air pocket keeping the frigid air of the blizzard in place. He also knew that the too air masses would eventually work themselves out and the blizzard would move on. But something he saw beneath him, still concerned him. They were too far south for the the amount of large ice chunks he had seen on their trip south. So, in curiosity, the pair turned north.
It took no time at all for the cold temperatures to return and the bronze rider to bundle himself back up again. The further north he went, the closer to the snowy wastes he got, the more ice chunks he saw. It was still sunny here, though the water below him was quite rough indeed. Perhaps the surface wind was moving rather fast. Unwilling to test that theory, the pair would eventually turn West.
By evening, they had hit another storm. Not the same storm that was beating the Weyr up, but a second storm sitting over the cold northern sea, simply waiting it's turn to hit the weyr. He'd seen more and more ice traveling south, forced there by ocean and wind currents. Suddenly he realized why the traders that were due days before hadn't yet arrived. These storms must have been brewing and forcing the ice south for at least a sevenday, if not more. He was convinced with what he saw, ready to turn home, but Salmalinth urged them west.
Now, they were racing the sun across Pern's sky, though they weren't winning. The sun had nearly set when they hit a second storm. This storm still seemed small compared to the first that he had run into since leaving the weyr, but it was enough to concern him. Hoping that it wouldn't follow the same air path as the other too, they continued on just a bit longer. By the time the moons had risen near midnight, off in the distance Il'ran could see the coastline near where Benden would lay, had it still existed. His bronze, tired from their rather extensive flight of the day, lowered in altitude to take a short break on the coastline, but there, they were hit with what they hadn't seen from the sky. Wind, ice, and snow attacked the pair as they tried to land. Il'ran had seen enough.
Moments later, no longer than it took to cough three times, the pair appeared over the weyr. The blue that had been on duty that morning had been replaced by a green. An angry green at that, who berated them for having been gone so long. They had said they would be back by nightfall, and now it was after midnight. The bronze apologized sleepily before landing on his ledge. Exhausted, Il'ran pulled off just enough clothes to rub some warm oil into his bronze's body and cover him up with some blankets he'd brought up from stores before pulling off all but a single layer of clothes and falling asleep.
That night he dreamt of snow storms attacking the Weyr. What brewed beyond was more trouble than the Weyr was ready for.
