them, but they were still not over the desert yet. Avatre turned her dive into a climb, and glanced back.
And ducked, spilling the wind from her wings. Kashet shot by overhead.
This isn’t good—he’s got more speed now and more height than we do—
And two more dragons shot past, a blue-black and silver-blue blur, and a purple-blue-scarlet beauty; Tathulan, who was nearly the size of Kashet, and Re-eth-ke. The largest and the smartest!
Kashet was in the middle of a wingover when Tathulan bulled past, using her own wake to send Kashet into a tumble. But the tumble sent Kashet where he wanted to go, straight into Avatre and the great blue locked claws with her and they began to plummet toward the earth in an obscene echo of a mating fall.
Kiron screamed in terror, seeing his death rushing toward him—
A blue-black-and-silver thunderbolt struck both of them. Re-eth-ke had rammed them with chest and fisted foreclaws. Kiron caught sight of Aket-ten’s ashen face for a moment, then Re-eth-ke flapped away. But the blow had startled Kashet so that he let go, and Avatre wrenched free.
She snapped her wings open; with a jar that shook him to his teeth, she backwinged for a moment, then got control again and lumbered upward.
Another indigo dragon scorched past her; Bethlan, cutting between Avatre and Kashet. Another—this time a red-and-sand streak that was Deoth. Kashet wasn’t going to be distracted; Kiron could almost feel Kashet’s hot breath on the back of his neck. He was going to close again—
Avatre ducked, and tumbled—and Apetma, Se-atmen and Wastet slammed into Kashet from three sides in a copper, brown, and brilliant blue pinwheel.
Kiron had often heard from old fighters that, at a moment of extreme crisis, time seems to slow. He had never believed that until this moment, when he saw Ari’s body jounce upward in his saddle—saw the restraining strap snap with a sound like a whip crack, and watched Ari tumble down over Kashet’s shoulder with the same graceful, languid motion as a petal dropping from a flower—
His mouth opened. He thought he shouted. He knew he gave Avatre a signal she knew better than any other.
She fought out of her tumble; stretched out her neck. Made one desperate wingbeat. A second. And on the third, got under Ari’s falling body with that expert flip of her head and neck that tossed him, sliding down the neck to lodge against the saddle—
But not quite right.
Ari slipped, and slid off her right shoulder.
Kiron screamed again, and grabbed for Ari’s arm as he fell for the second time. He caught it, and was slammed against Avatre’s neck by the sudden weight. She struggled for control; he howled with anguish as his arm seemed to flame with pain. He felt his fingers slipping, looked down into Ari’s eyes, and saw bleak despair and resignation.
Slowly, agonizingly, Kiron’s grip slipped as Avatre lumbered sideways, pulled over by the weight. She didn’t know what to do, and he couldn’t tell her to land without letting go of Ari—
The fingers slid—down the forearm.
Wrist.
Gone.
Just as Re-eth-ke slid right underneath.
Ari landed across Re-eth-ke’s shoulders. Astride.
He screamed in pain. Kiron didn’t blame him. But at least while he was racked with pain, he wasn’t fighting anyone; Aket-ten wrapped her arms around him and sent Re-eth-ke to the ground; Re-eth-ke was perfectly happy to go.
The rest followed her down; panting and weak with reaction, Kiron let Avatre drift in a slow spiral behind them. He didn’t even think about Kashet—
Until they landed beside Re-eth-ke, and Aket-ten, who had Ari on the ground beside her, and the great blue-and-gold dragon powered out of the sky like a lightning bolt, heading straight for them.
This time it was Avatre who interposed herself between Kashet and his prey, while Kiron howled, his voice cracking, “Kashet! NO!”
And Kashet—stopped.
A strange look came into the blue dragon’s eyes, and his nostrils dilated as he sniffed in Kiron’s direction. “Kashet,” he said hoarsely, “You know me. We didn’t mean to hurt him. We’ll make him better.”
The dragon sniffed again, and made a gurgling whine in the back of his throat. Kiron slid down off Avatre’s shoulder; his knees were wobbly, but they held him. He stepped toward Kashet, holding out his hand. “Kashet,” he said as calmly as he could, “Remember? Remember Vetch?”
Kashet lowered his head down and sniffed his palm—
—and sighed.
Then folded his legs underneath himself with a groan, and dropped down into the sand.
Sand?
Kiron looked around. They had reached the edge of the desert, and