Morning, Day 3

     Leaving Jayleigh's office, T'rell stepped out into the morning sunlight
and immediately looked around for his dragon.  He found Flerrion just where
he'd left him earlier, cuddling with Viktroy just outside the building.  The
two dragons had their heads close together, and T'rell could tell that they
were busily exchanging all the news that *was* news - at least from a dragon's
point of view.  No doubt they'd find a lot to talk about - Flerrion knew as
little about goings-on here at Daere as the queen, no doubt,  did about
Falagand.

     He made it a point to later on ask his dragon for a full report on what
he was learning.  While some of the things dragons gossiped about were of
little interest to their riders, T'rell had learned long ago that there was no
better source of information about the day to day goings-on at a warren.
Dragons talked among themselves about anything and everything - including, all
too often, things that their riders would just as soon they didn't!  T'rell
had, many times, lain awake at night listening to the rapid-fire exchanges of
the Falagand dragons - and occasionally even participated.  Being a telepath
did have its advantages.

     He looked around him, trying to get himself oriented.  The Warrenlady had
told him that Daere's chief trainer, Jer'lin, would be waitng to meet him in
the dining hall.  Now, if he could just figure out where it was.  There seemed
to be buildings and cave entrances crammed everywhere in this place, and
getting lost would be all too easy.

     <Viktroy?> he asked.  

     The blue-green queen dragon turned her attention away from her discussion
with Flerrion and looked down at the small human standing before her.  <Oh,
T'rell!  Flerrion has been telling me the most *fascinating* things!> 

     <Oh?> he asked. He wondered if Flerrion had been bragging about himself,
trying to impress her.

     <Yes!> she agreed.  <And he's been telling me a great deal about you!>

     T'rell raised his eyebrows, but decided he didn't dare ask what she'd
been hearing about him.  <Oh...well, that's nice.  Um, could you tell me where
the dining hall is?  I'm supposed to meet Banta's rider there.>

     <Of course,> Troy said agreeably.  She lifted the end of her tail and
used it's tip as a pointer.  <That way,> she told him.  Then her eyes widened,
and she turned to Flerrion with a conspiratory look.  <Oooh, I'll bet he's
going for his *coffee,* isn't he?> 

     That had a rather ominous sound to it. T'rell frowned, wondering again
what Flerrion had been telling her.  He fixed the crimson dragon with a
significant gaze.  <Well?> he demanded in a private aside, talking through
their link so that Viktroy wouldn't hear.

     <I was, er, just telling our new queen about your exploits.> Flerrion
said rather lamely.

     T'rell decided, in the interests of his own sanity, not to inquire any
further into what sort of nonsense his dragon had been telling the queen.
<Viktroy, I hope you realize that Flerrion tends to exaggerate things a bit!>

     She turned her head toward him.  <Of course,> she assured him.  <But it
does make for the most *wonderful* gossip!  Now, Flerrion, you *must* tell me
what happened after your rider threw that boiling coffee onto those
wraiths...>

     T'rell rolled his eyes as he left the two dragons to their gossip and
walked off in the direction Troy had pointed out for him.  Once his fool
dragon's silly made-up story made the rounds, he suspected that every person
in Daere would avoid him like the plague every time they saw a cup of coffee
in his hand!

     He had no problem finding the dining hall, but there were a number of
people inside and he wasn't sure which one might be Jer'lin. He asked a rider
who was sitting near the door to point him out.  "Oh, you mean the
Warrenlady's father?  That's him over there."

     Jayleigh's father?  Hmmm...he didn't recall her mentioning that little
fact to him.  But as he approached the table where Jer'lin was waiting, he
couldn't help but note the family resemblance between the two.  Well, Jayleigh
had seemed to be a straight-shooter, not at all like old B'nair - with any
luck, her father would prove to be the same.  Then he remembered Jayleigh's
comment about tests.  What kind of tests, he wondered?

     He made his way over to where Jer'lin sat.  "Sir, I've been told that
you're the man I'm to talk to about assisting in the dragon-training.  I'm
T'rell.  I've just today transferred from Falagand."

(insert the "Jer'lin" segment of Barb's post, "T'rell Arrives At Daere With No
Coffee")

     T'rell spent some time telling Jer'lin of his recent experiences,
culminating in the rapidly-becoming-notorious tale of B'nair and the coffee
cup, and his hasty departure from Falagand Warren.  But the coffee incident
wasn't the real reason for his leaving, a fact that Jer'lin quickly picked up
on.

     "Okay," said Jer'lin.  "Now tell me what happened to finally get you to
leave there.  The real reason."

    T'rell nodded.  He wasn't ashamed of anything he'd done, but it still
wasn't a pleasant story to tell.  "Well, it begins with the battle," he said.
"About two weeks ago, one of our scouts reported a large number of wraiths
attacking one of the villages in our territory.  Beta Wing went out to engage
them."

     "I heard something about that," Jer'lin agreed.  "I heard that several
riders were killed and more than a few hurt.  But I also heard that the
Wingleader was the only reason so many survived."

     T'rell shrugged.  "Might have been true - he's darned good at what he
does -  except that the wingleader was one of the first casualties.  The damn
things hit us by surprise, where we weren't expecting them.  The senior
wingsecond took command, but he got his position just because he was one of
B'nair's favorites - if you know what I mean." 

     "I think I do," Jer'lin agreed.  "Go on."

     "There were hordes of the damn things," T'rell said, his eyes narrowing
as he told the painful story.  It was, he realized, the first time he'd
actually had to tell this tale in its entirety.  "They must have had us
outnumbered ten to one, but there were so many that nobody bothered to count
'em.  Well, the wingsecond didn't know what to do, so he ordered the dragons
into a defensive circle."

     Jer'lin thought about that for a moment.  "Makes sense...draw their
attention away from any reinforcements that are arriving."

     "Yeah, if you've *got* reinforcements coming," T'rell said bitterly.
"Damnit, all of Alpha Wing was at the ready, just hovering over Falagand!  We
tried to convince B'nair to send them - even half the wing would have been
enough to rout those damned flying bedsheets! But she's been nervous as a new
bride ever since what happened at Marrid awhile back.  She wouldn't release a
single dragon to reinforce us.  Said later that one of the scouts near the
warren had spotted wraiths in the area - though, for some reason, we could
never find out just who that was!"

     "So what happened?"

     "The wingsecond froze up," T'rell explained.  "He didn't have a clue of
what to do, so he did *nothing!* I knew damn well that if we stayed where we
were, just circling like that, they'd wipe us out to the last man and the last
dragon!  So I...well, I took command.  Without orders."

     As he told the story to Jer'lin, he found himself reliving the events of
that terrible day.  Seeing that without desperate measures the wing would be
lost, he'd decided on a very risky maneuver that he'd read about in an old
manual.  He'd split the wing,  teleporting half of it to a spot several miles
away where the dragons could reform their ranks.  The other half of the wing,
which he'd left in charge of the next most senior rider, had been left to face
the wraiths alone.  Hopelessly outnumbered, they'd sustained severe
casualities during the few minutes that T'rell had required to implement his
plan; but they'd done their part, holding the wraiths' attention and forcing
them to concentrate their numbers in a small area.  Then, at a prearranged
signal, the dragons and riders fighting the desperate rearguard action
suddenly teleported out - and the wraiths, whose attention had been drawn
entirely in one direction, were hit from behind by T'rell and his attacking
phalanx.  Spreading out and flaming in every direction, they'd decimated the
wraiths within moments.  That done, it had been a simple matter for the
reunited wing to hunt down the remnants and destroy them.

     "Those were good riders we lost," T'rell concluded sadly.  "And they were
*my* riders, too!  I trained darn near every one of them!"  

     "Good thinking on your part, though," Jer'lin commented.  "Maybe you
should try to think on how many you saved that day, instead of blaming
yourself for the ones who were lost."

     "It should never have happened," T'rell insisted.  "If B'nair had
released Alpha Wing to us..."  He was silent a moment, clenching his fists on
the table before him.  "But you know the hell of it, Jer'lin?  I'll never know
for sure that she *wouldn't* have, after all!  She claimed later that she was
just getting ready to send them!  She said that if I'd just waited a bit
longer, we wouldn't have suffered all those casualties!"

     Jer'lin shook his head.  "You believe her?  Sounds to me like she was
just looking for a scapegoat to cover her own rear!"

     "No, I really don't believe she meant what she said, but...like I said,
I'll never know."

     Jer'lin reached out and clapped T'rell on the shoulder.  "Let it go," he
said.  "It's time for you to start fresh, think, and I can tell you this - as
long as my daughter's Warrenlady here, you'll never see anything like that
happen here at Daere!"

     The older man stood up and motioned to the empty plate in front of
T'rell.  "If you're finished, maybe we can go and have a look at some of the
searchlings we've got over in the hatchling barracks.  Give you a chance to
see what you can do with them!  Not that we've got any eggs on the sands right
now, mind you, but you know what they say about idle hands..."

     T'rell stood up as well, and followed Jer'lin out fo the dining hall.
"I'm game," he replied.  "Always good to start 'em out early.  How do they
look?  Any promising ones?"

     "Well, they've got the affinity," said the older rider.  "Beyond
that...well, I'd rather you made up your own mind about them.  Jayleigh
searched out two of the men, Mayrick and Stevon, herself.  Then there's
Kayla...she was one of the women we found in Dan'tray's caves."

     "Dan'tray?"  T'rell asked.  As they walked, Jer'lin filled him in on the
story of what Dan'tray had done. Even though T'rell hadn't known any of the
people involved in the events Jer'lin described, he found himself clenching
his fists in anger as the trainer told him about what Dan'tray had done to
young Jadain - and about the death of Gerald.

     "Anyway, Kayla showed a lot of spunk then," Jer'lin finished.  "Jayleigh
and I both think she's got a lot of promise as a future dragonrider.  Time
will tell, though...so, when are you ready to start work?"

     "Well...anytime," T'rell said, surprised.  "But you're not going to..."

     Jer'lin chuckled.  "To turn the reins over to you?  No, not quite yet.
I've been at this job a long time, and I'm not going to hand it over just like
that,"  he said.   "For just now, you'll be my assistant.  But afterwards, if
you can pass my tests, I'll glady turn my job over to you!"

     T'rell regarded his new superior curiously.  "Your daughter, the
Warrenlady, mentioned that there'd be some tests I'd have to pass.   What sort
of tests?"

     Jer'lin shrugged his shoulders.  "Well, you passed the first three."
Seeing the confused look on T'rell's face, he ticked them off on his fingers.
"One, you're here.  Two, you're experienced.  And three, you're willing to
take the job."

     T'rell blinked.  "Somehow I thought they'd be a bit harder than that," he
commented as much to himself as to Jer'lin.

     The older rider grinned fiercely.  "There are others," he said.  "And
they get tougher from here on out.  Personally, I hope you *do* pass them!
I've got a lot of heavy-duty fishing to catch up on!"

     He used his arm to indicate the direction where the hatchling barracks
were located.  "Come on, youngster!  Your 'tests' are waiting there to meet
you!"

NRPG:
     Many thanks to Barb, who helped write this one, and supplied Jer'lin's
end of the conversation.

Submitted by

John

T'rell & Flerrion
Daere Warren