Blood in the Air-Flight

[stolenhart]

Astoth gave a deep chilling growl, like metal on a rock, waking up slowly. It felt like some deep dark prescence in the back of Ilayria's mind, rising up and fighting to take control. Except the gold wasn't quite awake yet, wasn't quite ready yet, but her presence was certainly being felt. Ilayria went to the couch, giving her dragon a critical eye, then glanced out towards the feeding grounds.

She could hear the muffled roars of bronzes waking, of something in the air. It felt like this before a battle sometimes, with dragons waking and preparing. But for this, there was an underlying sense of quiet and a feeling of rightness. No other dragons would brave the air until this type of battle was done. One gold, against a Weyr's bronzes, that was the battle that would take place today. Already she could see the dragons milling about the herd, feeding here and there. The door to her Weyr opened as her fellow gold rider winked between.

Astoth opened one eye and rolled it, looking for her rider as she climbed to her feet with grace. She spared at a glance towards the puny humans gathering here, in her space, and growled again, deep and angry, like a wet feline this time. She hissed once, long, low and threatening. Let them carry that noise to those puny beasts in the bowl. She glided to her ledge and looked down at the Weyr bowl and roared loudly. Blood them, Ilayria said, fighting to gain control of the gold. Blood them. A disdainful snort, as if this puny human could control her, and the gold was gliding for the grounds.

She picked one beast up neatly, growing at a nearby dragon to make space. Thens he blooded the poor creature before it was barely dead. Tossing it's lifeless carcass away she reached for another, literally snatching it away from a would be courter. It too was drained of blood, though it was already dead. A third one came next and then more slowly a fourth beast. Astoth roared again and then was simply in the air, a golden haze racing away.

(NPC riders are welcome. If one wins you will be required to make a profile for him. All unfinished bronzes may enter as well)

[strawberrylush]

It would have amused R'lyn no end to know that his scout had managed to get caught up in the wave of emotions and would be participating in the gold flight at Northern. He could see the old man chortling into his klah, it would be even more amusing if Q'sor won the flight. The entire Southern Weyr would laugh and rejoice in that fact. So amusing, he thought as he whistled his way up to the Weyrwoman's quarters.

He'd never been in Northern Weyr but he was following the string of other men heading somewhere. It was a good thing most of them were given over to flight lust or they might have noticed his tan, darker than theirs, or his unfamiliar face. It had been the work of a moment to get Jastelth unharnessed so no one would look twice at the bronze but Q'sor might not be so lucky. He slipped into the room, hiding his tall frame in the back behind the others. They would get a kick out of this back home, they surely would.

Q'sor was in the North only to report on this Flight, not participate. R'lyn had only wanted to know when and who was made Weyrleader. The dragons made very good spies in and of themselves, since they were not suspicious beasts by nature and would talk amongst themselves. Keeping secrets from leaking out to either Weyr was a simple matter of keeping the dragons out of talking range. But Jastelth had been hungry and Fort would have happily gave them a wherry, not knowing who they were, but the idiot beast had to go and get tangled up in the flight lust. Aw well. At least it would be fun. Q'sor just hoped he could escape before they realized he was a Southern rider. They beheaded riders here in the North, everyone said so.

[saidaltam]

:Mine... she flies,: Vijaith half-crooned to T'rel, watching the gold with brightly swirling eyes.

T'rel hastened over to the ledge and looked down at the herdbeast pen, suddenly keenly interested in the goings-on in the bowl. 'Astoth rises, eh? Well!' T'rel mused somberly, watching Vijaith drop to blood his own kill before the queen took to the air. 'This should be interesting, at the very least.' Briefly, he entertained the idea of becoming Weyrleader, himself, but Vijaith had never won a gold flight, yet, and he didn't suppose that getting his hopes up for a job he wasn't even altogether sure he wanted, anyhow, was really the best idea.

Astoth's roar shattered T'rel's reverie, knocking him back into reality as she flew, shimmering, into the sky. As though that were some sort of unspoken signal, T'rel wheeled around and exited his weyr hastily, tied into Vijaith's flightlust, to find Astoth's rider.

As soon as the gold took air, Vijaith abandoned his beast, bunching his powerful legs and flinging himself into the sky after the gold. The flight was on, now, and Vijaith was suddenly very, very serious.

[phlysolo]

He had felt it. He had felt it for days now and he had wanted to be prepared. Two days ago, he had eaten well, heartily, much more than he would have normally. The day after, he had slept for most of the day, his energy reserved, his muscles relaxed. Today...today, he had woken early, far before Rukbat had valiantly flamed the dark and shadows of the night away with his burning sword. He had left his weyr and his rider sleeping to blood three large bucks, reveling in the energy their life force gave him. He would be ready, he knew it would be today.

Instead of wasting his energy by flocking back up to his couch in H'zu's weyr, the great bronze Erusth had staked out the feeding grounds, knowing the sleeping storm would wake up and shatter the calm of the morning. His shimmering green and coppery head turned, watching as other bronzes who sensed it too woke and made their way to kill beasts too for energy. Erusth's neck swelled, trumpeting a territorial warning to them, wanting his competition to stay far, far away from him until the time came when they must Fly.

In that same instant when his bronze growled his challenge to the gold's fellow suitors, H'zu was awake, wide awake and sweating in his weyr. It was happening and Erusth had barely given him a hum of warning. Shard him, shard that bronze! Pulling on a loose shirt and breeches, he made his way to the woman who was about to become Senior Weyrwoman's quarters, his thoughts scattered. Did he want Erusth to Fly Astoth? Did he want to become the Weyrleader? Well, honestly, he couldn't answer either of those two questions truthfully. Besides...it was the Weyr wh chose the Leader. It was Astoth who would decide, no matter how hard or far Erusth Flew after her.

Just as he reached the woman's quarters, an explosive shot reverberated through him. Briefly, he felt Erusth take control over him, his Flightlust already welling up inside of his chest, demanding him to hurry. He saw through the bronze's eyes that Astoth had already swooped down to the Feeding Grounds, that she was already blooding her kills. This was it! It was nearly time!

She will be MINE! The bronze roared into his rider's mind, making the man shiver with his beast's desire.

But Erusth was too close and Astoth snarled a warning to her, commanding him to back off. He hissed a reply, his lust getting the better of him, though he did neatly hop a length away. Erusth would NOT back down, would NOT show her weakness. A low grumble started in his throat, his muscles beginning to tense as he waited for her to take to the skies. In his mind, he saw himself the first one after her..

And like he had been waiting for, she was up, up, and away. Her brilliant hide blended beautifully with Rukbat's rays, perfectly glimmering off and melding with her pulsating glowing heat. Erusth's long, wide wings stretched wide and with a deft and powerful flap, he was airborne, gusting roaring winds down in his wake. In his youth and his strength, he could climb fast and high, his shining hide sparkling in the sun light. He would be on her tail for the entire length of the flight!

[dragonfire]

Astoth rises. I will chase.[/color] On the Heights, a bronze dragon rose to his haunches, pale wings spreading to the sun. Skelenuth was an odd looking bronze, his hide a mottled patchwork of colors, but he was a big dragon and in his prime. He felt primal lust and cold determination pulsing through him as he set his sights on the glowing gold Queen. With a bugle of acceptance to her challenge, he leaped off the ledge and launched himself into the sky.

L'rif glanced up from his plate, a smirk playing over his features as his eyes danced with anticipation. Young, handsome, arrogant. Bloodthirsty. All of these things described L'rif. Unlike some of the other men, he was not ambivalent about the Weyrleadership Flight. All his life, L'rif had been power hungry, and what better chance did he have than this Flight? Pushing back his chair and leaving a drudge to clean up his half-eaten meal, he strode out to the Weyrbowl.

As he walked briskly through the 'Bowl, he caught a few women watching him, probably keeping an eye on him in case he lost. With his delicate features, alabaster complexion, and blonde hair, L'rif was quite the catch. He planned to do the catching today, though. Flicking his gaze upwards, he caught sight of his patchwork bronze winging through the air, graceful and strong. L'rif had confidence in Skelenuth, and placed his trust in his dragon as Flightlust started to take over his senses.

Skelenuth circled over the feeding grounds and pounced on a beast, killing it instantly. He sucked it dry, letting the energy-giving blood course through him. He tensed, every sense alert as he watched the Gold. And then, she was off! With a powerful leap from his hindquarters, Skelenuth followed her into the air, falling into the chase level with the other bronzes.

L'rif took his place among the other males, his eyes fixed firmly on Ilayria, his own prize.

[maiwolf]

She shall rise today. The overly large Bronze stated calmly as he faced Astoth’s Weyr. B’oone looked toward the Weyr, and smiled. Brennanth had this thing for all of the golds of the Weyr, as if any Bronze didn’t, but Brennanth was more drawn to Astoth than the others. It was, B’oone knew, very good for Astoth to rise first. What with the golden egg of the previous clutch stolen and then all of the battles, the Bronze needed a change of pace.

The whole Weyr needed a change of pace.

B’oone looked up from the rock he was twirling in his fingers. This rock was peculiar; it was smooth on all sides, sharp on one end, but blunt on the other. It reminded him of the primitive arrow-stones he’d seen lately. What did they think they were going to do, throw stones at the Southern dragonriders and make them flee like felines? B’oone realized quite quickly that he wanted to see that happen.

She shall rise today. Brennanth said, putting more emphasis on the sentence, however small it may have been. B’oone looked up, still fingering the stone. “Then go blood, or whatever you need to do. I’m not moving until I feel the pangs of your lust.” B’oone said, and frowned. B’oone rather liked the lust-urges. But he didn’t like when the Bronze lost. Usually, B’oone ended up with a random kitchen lady. Once or twice he’d been lucky and found a female greenrider who hadn’t really cared.

Brennanth turned to his rider and focused his gently swirling eyes on him. You do not like her rider?

[/b] B’oone had to laugh. “No, Brennanth, that’s not what I meant. I just meant that I’m not moving. I do like Ilayria, don’t get me wrong.” Brennanth nodded, a slight movement of his head. But he said no more, nothing further. B’oone, still fingering the rock, looked up to Ilayria’s Weyr. “Who do you think she will pick, dragon?” Brennanth huffed. There was no answer to this rhetorical question, and yet still his mind was calculating.

Brennanth was a very meticulous dragon.

There are many Bronzes that will try to catch her today. We will all try our best. However, I believe that not many dragons are up to the ordeal of chasing a queen dragon, even though they are Bronzes.[/b] Brennanth finally answered, nodding his head once again toward Astoth’s Weyr. B’oone looked up there. “You’ll do fine, dragon. Don’t worry; we’ve been practicing for this day for many sevendays, months even. You will be victorious.” But Brennanth, though he felt pride sweep through him, knew that some dragons were good, too. And it was all Astoth’s choice.

Finally, Brennanth spread his huge, oversized wings. I shall go blood now. She seems to be stirring.[/b] With a quick flap of his wings, Brennanth spiraled upward from a previously lying position. The first wave of lust drove a stake through B’oone’s heart. He smiled, tenderly, and stood. He would climb all of those stairs to reach Ilayria’s Weyr. He would reach it, yes he would. He stirred from his position, and set the oddly shaped rock down. Then he started toward Ilayria’s Weyr.

Brennanth flowed smoothly through the air as if it were just water. He was comfortable here; in the air he could do anything. He could catch a queen. He rushed over to the herdbeast pens, and had enough sense in him to blood three before the gigantic queen burst from her Weyr in a frenzy. He rushed out of her way when she reached her first, and tentatively crept in for his fourth, and final, kill. He stole it and took it to a high perch. High perches were the best, the best places to start when a queen was rising. He quickly blooded the last kill, and spread his wings, ready to fall.

There she went, the wonderful Astoth! Her shimmering, golden hide glinted as the sun struck it. Her wonderful muscles slid under that hide, making the sunlight flint off even the minutest movements. Yes, Brennanth could see her, could smell her, would chase her, would catch her. She took off, like a queen should, and he bellowed. B’oone, safely in Ilayria’s Weyr now, glanced only briefly toward his dragon, the largest Bronze, and saw him fall off of the cliff. Brennanth had practiced the move many a time, and he executed it perfectly now. As his Bronze fell, the wind caught his wings. But B’oone felt wave after wave of undying passion engulf him. He turned back to Ilayria, and saw not only the beautiful woman but her wonderful golden dragon. The images began to meld, and B’oone was Brennanth. The great golden queen beat her wings powerfully in the air, cutting it like butter

Brennanth was not far behind. And he had many tricks up his ‘sleeve,’ he would not give up easily.
[/blockquote]

[kat]

There was more than one bronze who had awaited this flight, and more than one who had prepared. Kilzanth had noted the change in the Senior Queen's hide before most had, keeping a keen eye on such matters as to ascertain the time to grow ready. He had eaten two days prior, filling himself to full capacity in preparation of the two days in which he would spend digesting his large meal. He slept well for two nights, but did not oversleep so as to incapacitate him in any way or form. He spent much of the first day flying and exercising, doing aerial maneuvers and checking his speed, making sure all muscles were prepared and none out of order.

Kilzanth knew he was at an advantage. Not only was the large bronze in magnificent form, but he had strategical, speed and maneuverability advantages, thanks to his unusual brand of training with Z'ayr. He had also made his rider well aware of the approaching day, so that Z'ayr, too, put him through his paces and made sure he had some tactical advantages. Two minds, after all, were better than one. Every day that was not a day of battle, Kilzanth was weighted down with specially made gear. Around each of his legs, on his back, and even along his muscular tail, he was weighted in such a way that he was forced to grow used to flying and moving with many extra pounds. When these weights were released, Kilzanth was so much faster and stronger that it never ceased to amaze people and dragons alike that the bronze could move so fast and agile.

Both Z'ayr and Kilzanth were up early. They headed to the feeding pens together, the weights still on, and there Kilzanth blooded four beasts, taking in energy but making sure he had the time to let the energy be put to work and settle. The weights were kept on, and the pair sat to rest, and to wait, after Kilzanth stretched his ligaments and muscles, making sure everything was in working order. Suddenly, the dragon lifted his great, wedge-shaped head, and sent simply, It is time. Remove the weights, please, mine.

Z'ayr had fashioned them in such a way that they would not fall off of their own accord, but yet could be undone so quickly that it was a mere matter of moments. So, in a few minutes, Kilzanth was stripped of all weights and ready to go. He took his rider to near Ilayria's location, as the young man silently wished his partner good luck. He would do well, likely, in the Weyrleading postion. If he didn't think himself ready nor capable, he would have been elsewhere two days prior, instead of sending off his great bronze after Astoth. Instead, he glanced over at the Senior Weyrwoman, well knowing what came, and winked at her. May the best dragon win, he thought, excitement at the competition and his dragon's growing lust combining.

As soon as the Queen alighted into the air, Kilzanth was himself flung off his ledge, powerful wings sweeping up to catch the thermal he had positioned himself by, shooting off much faster than was the norm after the golden bullet. He ignored the other bronze's silly challenges and looks. He did not have time to focus on mere hearsay. They were meaningless in the ending outcome of this battle for supremacy. Instead, he bugled loud and clear, cutting through the air towards Astoth, his bronze hide catching the rays of the sun, though dull in comparison to the brilliance of Astoth's own. He was male, and he was a bronze. What need had he but to give chase? He would prove himself to her with strength, stamina and speed. He would prove himself worthy of her, in his way.

For now, he must glide on thermals to gain altitude and maintain his stamina. It was as they'd discussed, as they'd practiced. If there was only lust and instinct, and lacking in thought, what sort of victory could be won? No, he would maintain his memories of training, not letting the lackluster bronzes who were his competition turn him into a roaring, lust-filled beast who had forgotten they had brains with which to aid them and think. For now, he was a couple of dragons behind-but that was his intent. He would not give way to the desires to be up front. Those who chose to give it their all from the get go were those who faltered later on.

His powerful wings held him aloft while his overtly long tail balanced him, acting as a rudder through the air as it were a boat within waters. Legs were held in close to the large body, sufficing to propel him forwards faster likened to a torpedo, much like the dolphins would do in the waters. Neck was kept outstretched but not too taunt, as Kilzanth reveled in the speed and freedom without weights that was not allowed to him out of such circumstances, or out of battle. Yes, he had advantages, though little good would they prove to him if he didn't utilize them. Thank Faranth for Z'ayr, who was fighting with him as his solid reminder!

Z'ayr indeed helped his dragon to keep a semblance of mind over instinct. Down below he was as one with his dragon, and much force of will was needed to ground himself and Kilzanth in the proverbial way. He allowed his concentration to be centralized on focus, on keeping his bronze in remembrance of things practiced, planned and learned. They were by no means assured the winning of the flight, but they would do their best in either case, and do themselves proud.

[stolenhart]

She, who was given speed, stamina and dexterity, instinctively sought out the freezing atmosphere above the clouds. The air was thinner, harder to fly through, harder to breathe in, so cold it would suck the warmth right out of dragon. Of course it was not between but then no one had decided if dragons flew between or simply stayed suspended. Astoth did not care. She had her mind on two things, escape and if that as not possible choosing a worthy mate. The Weyr needed such a person.

The day had started out overcast with the chill of a violent winter on it. The clouds were thin and wispy and they did not move. The thermals and winds would be hard to find today but there would be no thermals above the clouds just wind and cold. She plowed through the weak clouds emerging above in the chilly air. Here it was always a frostbitten winter. She turned, glancing under her shoulder to see who followed. They were all specimens of their caste, each one with faults and strengths of their own. But this was no one time thing she embarked on. She needed a dragon who fit her own personality, who's rider fit with her's. No one would dare steal her eggs if she had such a mate. She gave an ear-splitting shriek, looking to see who winced before speeding away.

Ice crystals formed on her hide, giving her a sparkly opulence as she sped away. All these bronzes thought they had tricks, she scorned them. She had her own tricks to use. She would not be caught until she was ready. It would be her choice or there would be no choice at all. With that thought, she yanked her wings in close to her body and fell, straight down, like a stone. Let's see them catch her now, plummeting straight down.

Ilayria retained enough of her own mind to note the suitors in the Weyr. She could stand half of them, a few she even liked but would she trust her Weyr with any of them. Too bad it wasn't her decision. Oh she could influence all she wanted but it was Astoth who had the final say. At least Ilayria trusted her gold, she barely trusted any of these men here. She closed her eyes and turned her back on the men in her Weyr, losing herself in the lust of her dragon's mind, joining her as she plummetted downwards.

[strawberrylush]

Jastelth growled at his competitors, they had come to steal his queen. He could not fathom that it was in fact the other way around. She was his gold after all. He followed her upward, fast wings pushing and pulling the air so that he rose, hot in pursuit of her lusciously glowing hide. She passed through the cloud layer and then was gone. For a moment he feared the worst, then he broke through and found himself in another world. White clouds rolled beneath him, disturbed by the passing of wings and wind, while the blue sky blazed above him, enormously large. He couldn't study that at the moment. He had a queen to catch. From his position farther back in the pack he could just see her, and then, she was gone.

He gave a startled roar and overshot her departure point. He spared a quick glance around and then dropped himself, angling head down. He found her but he was hopelessly behind now. He had so much ground to make up. He was inexperienced where as these other's were not. He'd been in the last clutch of eggs born at Southern, never having chased a gold. He did not now, nor understand, their sinister plans. All he knew was, he wanted her. Wanted to twine his neck with her. He whined pathetically and stretched himself out, trying to make up the ground but it would be a miracle for him to do so.

[saidaltam]

Vijaith shot upward, wings beating fiercely, intent on the race. He spared no energy for catcalls or cajoles. No queen worth catching would care a wit for them, and if he chased her, then she was worth catching, wasn't she? Catching a thermal and soaring ever higher after her, he spiraled up through the cloud cover, emerging into the chill, thin air with a shattering of thick clouds. The fine wisps spilled off his wings like rain, swirling as he flung his tail to steady himself. His gaze flicked around until -- there. She was impossibly beautiful up there above the clouds. Had he been human, he'd have described the feeling as having his heart in his throat, but he wasn't, so he merely called it correct. Shooting after her, Vijaith could not have been enjoying himself more unless he had actually caught her.

Then she fell.

Vijaith backwinged out of the way, startled, then whipped around, his tail lashing out wickedly behind him, and flattened his wings against his sides, plummeting down after her. He was large, sleek, and swift. If any was swift enough to catch her, he knew that it would be him. Who else was there? No one, of course. Not with his speed, his wisdom, his ability. And, besides, Astoth was good. He wanted her.

T'rel was finding it progressively more difficult to keep any of his own mind under the constant onslaught of Vijaith's flight lust. When Ilayria turned away from them, he shivered and gave over to Vijaith's mind, losing himself in the flight. It was the least that Vijaith, that Ilayria, for whom he'd always felt some fascination, deserved. A divided mind would do Vijaith no good in a time like this, after all.

[kat]

Kilzanth was still allowing himself to stay behind a couple of bronzes. She would be trying to outdo them, he knew, and that would not do. A young bronze growled in challenge at him, but his mouth merely dropped open in a dragon's grin, as he silently laughed. He had chased before, he had seen this before. They would make showy displays, wasting their breath, wasting their efforts. It did not matter what they wanted-in the end, it was what she, their golden beauty, whose hide shone with the luminescence of a thousand unbroken suns, wanted.

She then did something a bit unexpected, forcing Kilzanth to compensate for the distance by speeding forth. The clouds above were cold, the air was thin and the crystallized moisture would weigh down whomever went up in pursuit. A decision he would make, here and now. It would either cost him distance or lend him distance. Only one thing was certain, he would be foolish to pursue her up there and lose distance for certain. So, ascertaining this much, he stayed just below the clouds, looking ever upwards. Ah! And there it was, certain as the sun rose each morning-her shadow above him, lending him the ability to see her form but aiding his cause in not rising any higher than need would dictate. He gave a croon, attempting to entice her rather than to brag his prestige as a suitor. He would not do as some young hatchling fresh from the egg and proclaim her his-he would beg her to let him be his. Her choice, and her choice alone, without the self assuming air that he would win just because his pride deemed it so.

Z'ayr caught Ilayria eying her suitors, each in turn, but was that indecision on her face? It wasn't though he blamed her. For her, it was the decision of her gold that chose her would-be Weyrmate and Weyrleader. She barely knew many of them here, not as well as he was sure she would like. Still, he could not mask the lust in his eyes as he looked her way-he, too, was prisoner to his dragon's desires, and so he desired her more than anything on Pern. His eyes followed the curves of her lithe body, they took in her sensual face, and it was as if he would devour her with eyes alone, skin burning and will fading fast as the chase went on in the skies above.

Kilzanth was familiar with the dive that many made, a plummet in which there was no warning given. Yet, knowing was near warning as he would get. From just beneath the clouds, he saw her quick move, and though he'd little time to prepare, he accounted for it best he could, as she shot past like a blazing golden lightning streak. He folded his wings, plummeting after her, unbidden in speed, as he streamlined his legs and tail to better aid him in his descent. He would be wary, of course, of her just as sudden stop in her own descent. If he wasn't, it was a possibility that he could overshoot her, causing him time that, at this point, they were losing with each passing second.

[phlysolo]

Ah, so she would test his courage, would she? His ability to follow her, his determination to keep up with her. He had an idea that this was all for show, but he would not allow her to gain too much on him! He was built better for flying than any of his competitors, he knew as he shot upwards after her. His wings were stretched to their fullest, beating in strong even strokes so that he rose much more rapidly than those other foolish bronzes that thought they could out last him, Erusth, in endurance. He might not be built powerfully as some of the other bronzes, but he was made for rapid descents and climbs!

His whirling purple eyes were focused on his golden Atoth as she plunged into the clouds, steering the group of following dragons farther into the heavens. He knew that some would be too weak to persue her, though they would most definitely think that they were being wiser by staying behind, by not following her. What rot was that! If they could not keep up with this mighty queen in the heat of lust, then how could they presume to lead her forces into battle against their foes? No, only the most daring, the most loyal of bronzes would follow her as she climbed up, up, up!

With a mighty roar he made it quite clear to Atoth's pathetic challengers that he would cease at nothing short of death in his pursuit after his queen. The bronze's metallically gleaming hide glistened with moisture as he shot through the same cloud as his would-be mate, his neck stretched long, his legs pressed tightly against his body. He knew instinctively that the higher it got, the harder it was going to be to continue, but again, his body was made for this. His hide was so smooth, so glossy that even with the thin air of the altitude, he still could feel the magnificent rush of power, rush of wind flowing over the sails of his wings, along his neck, and down his back.

But it was cold! Cold, he wasn't prepared for and he could feel the icing beginning on the leading edges of his wings. Erusth would not be deterred and thought it might cost him later in the flight, he thrust his wings harder and faster, sending his boiling lust driven blood searing through his wings, his muscles giving off their heat to warm his wings and keep them strong and steady. Unlike most of those worthless bronzes, the piercing and eerie shriek that erupted from her maw did not scare him in the slightest, for how could he ever be afraid of the dragon whom he would mate? Erusth knew that she was testing them again! If they were easily shocked by her vocality, how could they stand to bear the roars of agony they would hear when dragons were wounded and killed around them?! He alone was battle tested, he alone knew how to out fly and out think his foes and, in this case, the queen that would be HIS! If he had nearly killed a queen once, then he could certainly catch one now!

In Ilayria's weyr, H'zu found himself almost completely taken over by his bronze. He could barely make out the hazy shapes of the riders who dragons hoped to Fly Atoth just as desperately as Erusth did. He blinked once and he was suddenly airborne, suddenly Erusth himself and there were no men that stood before him, but all dragons, flying and barreling through the air, each trying to prove their worth. H'zu's eyes flickered opened then closed once more and everything became what it truly was. He hardly knew any of the other males in the room, but his eyes were solely on the woman whom he might be bedding quite soon.

The bronzerider suddenly did not have Erusth's confidence nor his determination to win. After all, Erusth would not have to shoulder the burden of Weyrleadership like H'zu would, he would not have to deal with the woman whose dragon was now up in the air. He hardly knew Ilayria! But...a Flight was a Flight. This had happened to him several occasions before, though Erusth had only Chased greens before. Greens..Greens were nothing like this! Erusth was not as steadfast in his pursuit as he would have been with a green! A rapidly boiling mixture of hope and lust were pounding through him once more and, for the first time, H'zu wanted Erusth to win just as badly the dragon did! He wanted to know if Erusth could truly do what he so longed to do.

The dragon was not quite prepared to suddenly fling himself after her as she plummeted. It was a tricky maneuver, for he would have to barrel over in a way he hadn't done since...since he had nearly died. But if he could do it then, then he most certainly could do it again. Drawing his stomach in and making himself as flat as possible by folding his wings and limbs as close as he could to his body, Erusth pitched sharply over. Head first, then neck, then shoulders, then body. It hurt! Every muscle, every fiber in his body was screaming in agony as the gravity forces around him compressed and tightened around him. The might bronze knew that if he even so much as twitched a muscle in his neck out of place, it would snap.

He had no control over his directions: His tail felt like it was locked into place, preventing him from steering his flight path at all. Even his wings were refusing to respond as he tried to gently pitch them up or down in his attempts to slow his speed. This was rapidly getting out of hand! If he didn't control it, if he couldn't pull out of it in time...Erusth passed almost instantly from the cloud he'd just barreled through moments before. The dragon found himself stuck in a vortex where his speed was keeping him semi-frozen even as he passed through much warmer air.

As he heated, the air around him became denser and it helped to slow his decent. Finally, FINALLY, he could move his tail, though the regaining of his control was too much for him at once. The rapid jerk of his horizontal axis nearly sent him careening into another bronze, but a quick barrel roll flipped him right over the other beast who seemed to be hovering, waiting for what the queen would do next. Fool, he should have been after her like Erusth had!

With total vertical and horizontal control returned to him, Erusth bugled triumphantly, hoping that he wouldn't have to repeat that rather traumatic experience again during this particular Flight. In his excitement and arrogance, he began a corkscrew down, his wings still tucked neatly against him, his tail steering him expertly as he waited for his queen to dart up again or rapidly change directions once more.

[stolenhart]

She had no way of knowing who was behind her, who had taken the plunge, who had followed her up above the clouds and then followed behind her as she plummeted. She would have like to note which dragons took shortcuts and which dragons followed her but she had no way of knowing. The ground was coming at her, a brown blob where distinct things became even clearer as she fell towards it without slowing.

Just when she judged herself at a perfect height, some fifteen hundred feet above, she lifted her head up, bringing the rest of her body up. Her wings popped open with a loud crack, resounding across the cold air. She shot backwards, underneath the wave of falling bronze bodies, barrel rolling to gain control and stabilize her path. She had lost her momentum with such a stunt but so would they. She cackled to herself as she flapped her wings gaining more speed so she could rise again.

The flight wouldn't last too much longer, but now was when tired dragons must stand out and make an impression in her mind. This was make or break time, do or die. Now was the time to force her hand, make her see you were worthy or forever be found wanting. Well not forever, but certainly until her next flight. She began to rise, finding herself over Fort Hold, pushing a wave of emotion and lust towards the innocent Hold. They probably knew by know about the flight but that wasn't Astoth's concern. No her concern was the score of suitors behind her, chasing. Who to choose? Even now, with her blood burning, she didn't know. She just didn't know.

[kat]

He knew she would pull up when she deemed she was ready, however, the plummet was daunting and the ground was growing closer and closer with each moment. Objects that had been indifferences to him were now becoming more and more visible. He knew it would have to happen, and soon. However, knowing this wasn't going to determine for the golden object of his desire when she would choose. It had to be up to him, then, to discern. Waiting on her would cost him, surely as anything else would cost him. The bronzes were falling too fast and he was amongst them, he needed to break free and avoid a collide. Close the ground was, and closer still as they fell further and further. He would have to break loose, have to take yet another risk!

He stopped roughly sixteen thousand feet above the ground, knowing that they would all have to stop soon enough, but unwilling to let himself be slowed overmuch by a sudden stop that was not of his choosing. Instead, he began to let his wings out slowly at seventeen thousand feet, but kept going fast. At sixteen thousand they were half open, and yet he was still aiming downward-and there! She was suddenly below him, and her wings snapped out, and so did his own, though he was about five hundred feet above her, and still down he went! He went down while everyone else was busy trying to stop and rise-he was already up higher! He would have gave a triumphant bugle, but what a waste that would be. She was climbing upwards, and instead of having to climb he had only to wait for her to reach his height, insofar as this went he had a few moments respite which lent him more strength. Still, he made sure he was downwards in his descent enough that he would meet her halfway, while she was suspecting they'd all be following her upwards. Yes, his strategy worked, but nothing would assure this win short of her compliance! How frustrating it was to lust so fully and know not her decision!

Still, he was ready and waiting for her and once she flew up past him, he was right on her tail, almost right beside her, feeling as though he might have a taste at victory, hoping that his tactics had lent him the chance to show her what he was made of and let him win her through this. What did it matter if they were strong? He was strong! He also had the intellect to be worthy of her, and lead by her side! Once more, he crooned loudly his affections to her, letting her know that he, Kilzanth, had kept so close where others had not planned so well, had to work harder to do the same thing. He had worked with mind and body, wasn't that something to be said?

Now, he was putting his all into it. The flight was not over, but he could not afford to reserve energy any longer, when it was so far in. Now, he must be ready for anything!

Z'ayr wanted her, his blood boiling like fire through his veins as he saw her through rose clouded vision. Ilayria, his godess, his mate...he was so entwined with his bronze that he could nearly taste her-he could even smell her, as he'd somehow ended up closer than before, though daring not touch until she made her choice. It was a smell that made him heady and weak, made him want to touch, to taste. He wanted her like he'd never wanted anything, so bad that it almost hurt. He had also been involved in flights for green, never having allowed Kilzanth to take part in a gold flight. He hadn't been ready before, and hadn't known how powerful it would be. It was everything, and yet might come to be nothing. It might come to be unrequited, yet he was helpless before her, completely given to her every move, wanting everything about her. Yes, dragonlust was powerful, indeed.

[phlysolo]

Too bad. Too bad she hadn't looked back. Too bad she hadn't seen just how magnificent he'd looked in his grand decent. Atoth had completely missed how he expertly avoided and manuevered around his opposing bronzes to keep pace with her. His goal was so close that he could nearly taste it; his forked tongue flicked out of his mouth, lapping up the air around him for just that one taste of her that he so desired. Her smell was intoxicating and he could feel her lust washing over him, driving him on, his need matching hers as he continued his rapid downward spiral after her.

Still, he had no idea how she would change course, though he knew it was coming. Again, a test he knew! Atoth had to be trying to figure out just which bronze was cunning enough to outsmart her, to beat her at her own game. A seasoned veteran with many battles under his wings, Erusth was becoming lustily arrogant enough to believe that he could out fly anything with wings. He knew that he would have to slow himself down considerably to be able to quickly whisk off in whatever direction she would be heading. Oh, this would be risky. If he didn't perform this properly, he could end up seriously injuring himself.

Pitching himself upwards once more, he drastically reduced his speed, though kept himself in line with the gold who was steadily gaining ahead of him. Instead of pursuing her, he veered rolled deftly up and away before jerking his body downwards just as Atoth's wings 'popped' open, the noise so loud that even with the howling winds aloft Erusth could hear the sound quite clearly. As she gained altitude, she rolled, their aerial acrobatics so similar that Erusth bugled with victory. He made his turn sharper before descending after her, ending up far higher than she in the end. With Erusth's speed rapidly increased, he was able to much easier gain on her, putting himself in quite a good position.

She was wasting energy flapping so much, Erusth saw, his whirling purple eyes sizing her up deliberately. Erusth, for the most part, was doing as little useless pumping of his wings as possible, preferring instead to open and fold his wings as he saw fit to either gain altitude rapidly or lose it. When absolutely necessary if he needed a sudden burst of speed, like he did now, he gave his wings several powerful strokes, propelling him forward and allowing his naturally streamline body do the rest of the work for him.

Her course took them over a Hold, though he cared quite little about just where they were going. Erusth could feel H'zu's mild disagreement with the new situation they were in, though the dragon paid him no attention, instead filling them both with renewed senses of lust and glutton wanting. What did Erusth care for the feelings of humans when all he cared for now was his golden queen before him? He could not afford to lose her! He could not afford to slow down. His wings pumped harder, his control over his instincts slipping, slipping as he made a vicious attempt to stay on her tail. There! He was close, so so close to feel her pulsating heat radiating onto him.

He could not tell if she was tiring, but he would certainly not allow her to know if he was! No, he must show her that he had no weaknesses, that he was stronger by far than any of these bronzes who dared attempt to claim her as his own. He swooped neatly under her, turning belly up as if to show off just how handsome his hide was, how neatly he controlled himself in the air before swiftly rolling up and over once more, settling into position next to her. So CLOSE! His wingtip was nearly level with her and he felt that he had her boxed in. Perfect! Perfect! Once she grew tired, all he had to do was wedge himself in and claim her!

But now was not the time to grow over confident, if she sensed that he thought himself so much better than she, it would only draw her away! He had to prove that he was her equal and that only they were strong enough to produce large Clutches, healthy Hatchlings, gold Eggs! Only together and any other bronze would only lead her to offspring that would fall short of what she wanted. Only Erusth was good enough for her!

OoC: Definitely not as good as the post I did just a few minutes ago. The move Erusth performed to change direction and catch up again with Atoth is a World War II era fighter pilot maneuver called the "Yo-Yo." Basically, by climbing, twisting and falling, the attacker (or bronze in this case) can both get them into a better offensive position and prevent the attacker/bronze from over shooting the defender/gold.

I tried to make it as clear as possibly, but I wasn't sure if the end result really conveyed what I was trying to do. Here's a link that explains the move a bit better along with a diagram.

library.thinkquest.org/3142/manuv.htm

[maiwolf]

Brennanth would not let her get away from him. He would not let his wondrous gold fly—outfly—him! He knew only her, he saw only her. She was his, but was he hers? Brennanth could not think such thoughts. His mind went into overdrive. From the moment he took off, he was following her, a male hot onto the female, lust turning his eyes purple. Whirling. Ever whirling. The purple consumed his eyes, only lust reigned in his heart. He could feel it beating, matching with hers, with the other chaser’s hearts. They were becoming one. Those hearts, and only two would survive. Only two would intertwine in matrimony, if only for this flight.

Brennanth calculated.

It was cold, the frost already showing by the billows of air that he released out of his nostrils. Deep, steady breaths. Controlled breaths. The breath of a professional. Brennanth had been flying queens for Turns. He knew what he was doing, he was no numbskull, he was no fledgling. And he would win Astoth! He did not doubt the other dragon’s abilities, he did not doubt that they would be as good, or better, than him. But he also did not doubt his own abilities, and he took pride in the fact that he did not doubt them. He would win for his expertise was invigorating. He would win because of Astoth, because the Weyr needed more queens. And because he was Brennanth.

Brennanth saw her rising, steadily rising. Brennanth saw her rising higher than the clouds, and knew his gut instincts were to follow her. But follow the wondrous queen he did not. He was not naïve; he knew she meant to lure him into the clouds to slow him down. He was not weak, but he was not shell-brained. And he would win. He calculated her route of ascent. He calculated that her drag* would increase tenfold while above the clouds, above the normal air limit. She would slow, and she knew that, too.

He was waiting, biding his time. He would maneuver, he would outmaneuver. There were Bronzes here that had trained like him. But he had trained more, he knew it! He wanted Astoth more than they wanted her, and he knew that, too! Astoth was wonderful, was a queen, and was going to be his. No doubt every other Bronze was thinking that, no doubt every other Bronze was thinking of using tricks. But no doubt every other Bronze didn’t know his tricks. Or hers. Brennanth would win.

Some of the Bronzes followed her into the sky, higher than they should have. They would soon drop out, their blood pressure would reach abnormally high, or low, levels, and they would either get hypothermia or go into shock. Brennanth wasn’t that stupid. He was calculating. He was waiting. She couldn’t stay up there forever; she’d have to come down sometime soon. He waited, counting his breaths. They were even, he was still probably only working off the first herdbeast. He had plenty of life left in him. He would win.

Then it happened. Brennanth knew it would. He watched, calculating, still, as his wonderful queen dropped down, like a rock, to the land below. She was beautiful, glistening in the sunlight, the crystals on her falling away, creating a trail of stars. Brennanth dropped, too. But he had control, he made multiple snap rolls** to hasten the pace of the drop. But he was calculating. He was smart. He and his human had practiced this many times, too many times. He had, in Gatherings, dove for ‘Thread’ that would have otherwise been inflammable. He had made his team win. He knew this trick like his human knew the back of his hand. He would win this queen.

Snap roll after snap roll, and he gained on her, quickly, very quickly. He was conniving. He was calculating. He would win. He knew when she would stop. Not so low that the gravity would take her. Not so high that Bronzes could catch her. He slowly pried open his wings testing the air. Yes, it was good enough. He snapped them open, an echo to the wondrous queen’s own momentous noise. He and she were in harmony, he liked to think. Yes, calculating was good. He would win the flight.

B’oone had experienced this daring dive many times before. But now, as he was bonded with his dragon, he felt it even more. He could feel it, the wind coursing across his wings. He could see it, the ground coming up at him, first indistinct shapes, and then mountains, a Hold, trees. He could feel the exhilaration, could taste the air as he opened his mouth, one with his dragon, to let out a gusty sigh. The man could tell little other than that some chasers had dropped. And she was still flying, still there. Sitting on the bed, but in the air. It was a wonderful sight, watching her, fluid movements, golden hide mixing splendidly with human skin. Sitting there, so overwhelmed with her own dragon’s lust. She knew they were there, she knew it all. She would choose one of them today, and B’oone suddenly wished it would be him to be chosen.

Brennanth did not need flap his wings. He could feel the air the other dragons flapped up to him keep him aloft. He could see them charging, still, downward. They were numbskulls, shell-brains. Did they not know that what fell down must come back up? He hovered in the air slightly, but not to gain his bearings, he already knew where he was. And where she was. He hovered because of the draft. And she was rising. He dove again, and announced himself by slow rolling*** over to her stomach, doing a 360, and ending up on her other side. He was slightly behind her left wing, and what a wonderful wing it was.

He was over Fort Hold. She was over Fort Hold. They were over Fort Hold, the surviving Bronzes. He had blooded four herdbeast, the same as her. He was fine, only using the strength of the third herdbeast just now. But he, nevertheless, was mortal. He could feel the twinge of ache in his wings. He could feel the lust cavort its way through his body. He could feel it, coursing through his veins. He could see it mirrored in every Bronze’s eyes as he swung his head around to look and to maneuver. His head, and his tail, became the rudders****. He soared only on what slight currents of air there could be found over Fort Hold. He needed no more, for he also traveled with the queen’s currents. Those currents were upturned when she flapped her wings. Each flap housed a plethora of wind, and that wind sailed smoothly under his wings, keeping him aloft.

He was above her, but he was next to her. He could see her both ways. But lust clouded his vision, changed his views. She was beautiful either way. Soft, blond hair falling only to the jaw line, but defining the high cheekbones, the stubborn chin. Lithe golden form, hovering more over dark honey molasses than regular gold, wings shining with the crystals that had not yet been shaken off. Blue eyes, dark blue eyes, lust-filled, but scheming. Checking. Who would be her male? Purple eyes, whirling and lustful, but calculating. Planning. Who would be the Weyrleader?

Brennanth opened his mouth. B’oone opened his mouth. Brennanth let out a huff, an even breath, though his wings hurt. B’oone’s arms hurt. He could not shake the feeling of a deep ache, somewhere he could not reach. Somewhere Brennanth could not reach. Curves. Lithe curves of the woman, of the dragon. Wonderful curves, Ilayria possessed. Lithe, agile form, tiring from the flight; that was Astoth. Brennanth was tiring, but he would not give. He would win.

Excellent golden color. Nice, rich, tan. Intermingling colors, visions, the glory was so close B’oone could almost feel it. Brennanth could almost taste it. Wind coursing under wings, legs too tired to stand, but locked in place. This ordeal was just as hard on the rider as the dragon. Seeing everything through dragon’s eyes, feeling everything through dragon’s feelings. This was what it meant to be a dragonrider.

And Brennanth would win.

He was not done yet. The queen was tiring. She was showing them that the bait was still there, and if the fish were lively enough, she could get caught. He did a slow roll, came to the other side of her. Pushed another Bronze—smaller, pitiful—out of the way. He slow rolled under her, kissing their claws together. A tease. To see if she was ready. A risky maneuver, he could get killed, but he had to see if she was ready. She had to be, she was tiring.

Fort Hold passing, good bye. Brennanth completed the roll, righting himself again. He was Brennanth, Bronze, Wingleader of Honor Warrior’s Wing. He could win Astoth. He could win his shining beauty. He could win his gold. He was B’oone, Bronzerider, Wingleader of Honor Warrior’s Wing. He could win Ilayria. He could win this stunning lady. He could win this human.

He still flew. His breath came deeper now; he was on his last herdbeast. He was tiring out, but he was not down for the count. One herdbeast left, but he still had his energy reserves. If she did not pick now, she would tire too much, the eggs would not be as great as if she were in her prime. Now. She should choose now. She should choose the winner. Brennanth flew on, calculating, the lust undulating in his eyes—purple eyes. Who would she choose? ‘Yes,’ thought a voice, familiar but so far off. Was it Brennanth or B’oone, or both of their minds linked together? ‘Yes,’ again came the thought, ‘she shall choose soon, and then we shall see.’

*= Drag: The air resistance to forward motion.
**= Snap roll: A type of rolling maneuver that is very quick
***=Slow roll: A very slow version of the roll
****=Rudder: The rudder controls the flying thing around the yaw (horizontal) axis.

[strawberrylush]

Jastelth knew the minute he was out of his league. Knew it to the exact second when he stopped chasing after the golden queen. He lacked the experience and training to deal with a golden queen, and he needed more maturity as well, maturity that would only come with time. The second he realized he'd best go collect his rider came just shortly after he overlfew her descent spot above the clouds. He had descended from his spot angling himself to catch up with the rest of the bronzes.

But then her wings had cracked opened and once more he overshot her position. It was too late to turn around. He turned his back on her flight and went to the Weyr. They had overstayed their welcome, best to collect his rider and leave the cold North. It was disappointing to be sure to be leaving the flight but there was no use in compeiting when they would not win. It was dishonorable, as his rider would say. Jastelth didn't really know what honor was but it must be important because everyone talked about it.

Q'sor slowly snuck out of the room. He needed a woman like he needed his left hand but it would wait until he got home. He had ways to train his bronze now that would ensure he'd be a Weyrleader soon. He managed to get out of the Weyr to where he had hidden his straps, harness his dragon and rise upward. They were gone before anyone knew they had been there. R'lyn would have a fit but at least the information was valuable.

[stolenhart]

She was furious, quite literally furious, and the emotion just drove her lust through the roof. What she really wanted to do was attack the bronzes hemming her in then escape. Especially the idiot who thought to tease beneath her. Who did he think he was?! That really lit her fuse. She wanted to rip his head off right then. But she rose. Lucky enough she found a thermal rising just off of Fort Hold, she used it, spiraling upward to the heights of the world. She needed to be here, needed the height to make the fall longer, to make the Clutch bigger. And she needed room.

She launched herself at the bronze on her her left, claws raking for his side. When he flared upward to escape, she rolled away from the rest of the box and shot upward on the thermal, free for however long the manuever had given her. She shook her head and glancd backwards, seeing a fleeing bronze hide. She roared at him to come back but he made no move to do so. His problem not her's. She attained the level she wanted, nay she went above the level she wanted, which was better. Now who would outlast her own stamina this high up. They had no choice but to follow her now, for now she was ready to make her decision. And she would choose.......

[phlysolo]

Atoth's golden fury was delicious and intoxicating. It seemed to swirl off of her, engulfing him in her hateful lust for the bronzes around. He hoped to drive her rage to new heights, hoping that if she were angry enough, her judgment would be clouded and he would truly have the upper hand in the aerial battle for the right to claim her as his own. Erusth would not err, would not slip up, would not lose this gold streaking away in the passions of her very first Flight.

She skillfully veered up and away from him, his eyes whirling a brilliantly bright purple as he watched her wing sails expand. Erusth knew that she must have caught a thermal, but in his current position, he could tell immediately that he had no chance of stealing its easy boost of altitude and speed. But how could he complain? Now he could truly show her just how strong and mighty he was. If he showed her just how able he could climb, just how faithfully he could follow her to the very end, then he knew that he could prove to her his worth, that she had no better suitor than himself.

It was in this moment, he realized just how tired he was, just how the muscles in his wings were burning in protest to what his body was about to do. If Erusth over shot or if he found himself sadly out of energy too soon, then he was out of this Flight and all of his performance was for naught. However, his confidence wasn't to be dissuaded! He was too focused, too driven, his lust forcing him on and on and on.

Violently shaking his head, his mouth opening in a silent snarl, Erusth charged forward, pitching himself up nearly vertical. He needed to get up as quickly as possible, for the force of the thermal had propelled her so far ahead. The foolish bronze to her left, more interested in teasing her than offering himself over as her mate was flung aside. He was deviously pleased that she choose to flail at him with her claws, hoping to strike him, to kill him, to get him out of the way so he, Erusth, could take her, could sire her Clutch!

As she vaulted upwards, free even from Erusth's presence, the bronze barreled after her. Oh, he felt so light! So light in comparison to the bronzes who were rippled with muscles, heavy with large meals. But not Erusth! He was lean and lithe and quick! He wouldn't have to fight the air so hard to follow her, he wouldn't have to over compensate for his weight! His wings stretched and unfurled to their maximum length. He would have to use up his remaining energy to pursue her and if...if she did not choose, if she did not take him as her own, he would be spent, he would have to fall out of formation like that other, small and weak bronze that drifted slowly down moments before...

Erusth's magnificent bronze wings, longer by far than the bronze closest to him, stroked the wind with strong beats, though surprisingly gently, allowing the wind naturally carry him up towards his golden prize. Combating the air as much as he was gravity, his tail was flicking to and fro wildly, keeping him stable as he rocketed upwards after her. The thermal had carried her too high! His wings were screaming at him stop stop stop but his mind, his heart, his soul was ordering him to climb climb climb! Erusth would obey his strong heart, rather than the begging of his muscles. If he could not follow her to back into the highs of the skies with her, then perhaps he wasn't worthy of Atoth.

He would not give up! Erusth would not surrender her to the bronzes less worthy, the bronzes who hadn't even made an effort to follow her as dutifully as he had! A roar of half agony, half lust exploded out of his open maw as he pushed himself to the limits of his endurance. A dragon length away from her...half...a quarter...an eighth...So close...he was so close...

Furiously, he forced his wings onwards until he was close enough to almost touch his nose to her tail, but that was not close enough! Straining his wings to their breaking point, he climbed on and on. With one almighty pump of his wings, he was above her, though much higher than he had originally intended. The tips of his tail could barely whisk along her back if she so choose. It would be so easy to swoop down and claim her as his if he so choose but...

But his honorable mind and what he was feeling from H'zu was telling him not to be so arrogant. She was the queen, she was their ruler, their real leader. It should be up to her to GIVE, not to be taken and Erusth was able to swallow his pride enough to sail along above her and see whom she would choose to take as her own rather than devour her without a chance for her to give a bugle of protest like other, more dishonorable bronzes certainly would.

[dragonfire]

Skelenuth kept his distance from the other bronzes, not wanting to feel crowded. He would take his opportunity to snare Astoth when it came, and he didn't want to get too close to any of the others in the mean time. The Flight into the chilly air was unpleasant, but not too difficult early in the Flight. Astoth's dive took him by surprise at first. He readied himself to follow, then reconsidered. Any Gold had to fly high for a good clutch, and Astoth would not be an exception. He could dive, using energy for that, then spend even more energy on the upward climb once more. He remained where he was, watching the Gold's progress from above.

As he expected, she rose once more into the air. Skelenuth lowered his Flight path a little, but still remained above Astoth's level. He hovered as the other bronzes tried out their tricks, only succeeding in urging the Queen to fly higher. Skelenuth lay in wait above her, and he was not as honorable as Erusth. When Astoth was a few dragonlengths below him, he dropped down, veering into her flight path and trying to foul her wings with his own.

On the ground, L'rif tensed, sensing the end to the Flight close at hand. Before him, he saw only the golden Astoth, not Ilayria.