[Statistics] [Boy] [Mage] [Candidate] [Hatchling] [Adult]

Illiaen rushed through the portal, this time arriving in the middle of a sparsely-wooded plain. To the West he could see a stone structure, somewhat like the Weyrs he had visited on Pern, or the Caers on Alskyr. He briefly wondered if he had made a wrong turn and ended up doubling over, but the presence of a great beast in the sky immediately changed his mind.

It was a dragon, sure enough, but a dragon unlike any he had seen. Less bulky than the Pernese, with a long, elegant face and huge membranous wings, these dragons were entirely new and entirely beautiful. What was this place?!

The dragon - a great blue beast - had long, elegant horns rather like some of the species of deer Illi had seen on one world. His head turned in the direction of the hillock on which Illiaen stood and he paused mid-air, the aforementioned horns pointing towards the sky as he looked down at the boy. Then, he swooped, circled a few times, and alighted nearby.

Illiaen was dumbfounded. What could this magnificent beast possibly want with him?

Taraiath had sensed the boy the moment he had stepped onto the plains. He wasn't entirely sure where the small human had come from, but that wasn't his concern. What was, was the huge power he felt in the boy. This child was needed in the Cathair.

We must greet him, the blue told his rider.

The man, a tall, solid fellow of middle years, looked down and raised one dark eyebrow. Any particular reason, heart?

Trust me.

With a shrug, the rider directed his lifemate down towards the speck on the green below. They landed well, and the rider dismounted with a leap and headed towards the boy. He was more of a young man, by closer inspection. Tall for his size, though still relatively petite, he had ash-blonde hair and bright blue eyes and looked more amazed than afraid - always a good sign when thinking about candidates. Not that the thought had even crossed his mind...

"Greetings," the rider said formally, holding out a hand of friendship.

Illiaen blinked, then responded in kind. "Greetings, Sir." He paused, then added, "I am Illiaen, a traveller." He'd found that proclaiming himself a mage in training was not well met all the time.

The man nodded. "And I Trickel, of blue Taraiath." He stopped, and Illi wondered if he was meant to say something then. The hardest part about travelling between worlds was the customs. The dialects and accents were hard by themselves, but this man had a perfectly understandable speech. Finally, the rider spoke again. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, Sir, I'm not. I've travelled a fair way since leaving my home."

Another nod. "You're young to be travelling so far alone." There was a hint of a question in the statement.

"It is, Sir," Illi replied with a nod of affirmation. "But I enjoy the independence."

Trickel paused once more, cocking his head and looking into the distance as if in great thought. Then, "Do you want to visit with me at the Cathair?"

Cathair. Illi assumed that was what they called the home of the dragons in these parts. He smiled. "I would like that very much, thank you."

Illiaen was positioned behind the rider and instructed to hold on tight as the great dragon rose smoothly and headed in a few sweeps of its amazing wings towards the Cathair.

So, you still like him? Trickel asked his blue once they were away.

Taraiath nodded mentally. I do. I think he will be perfect for the clutch.

Trickel smiled and phrased his next question out loud. "So, Illiaen. You like dragons?"