She reached with all her energy toward the panic-stricken bronze dragon even as she stretched her legs and arms in frantic motion, making a desperate attempt to get under T’mar. Somewhere in her mind she knew there was no way she could possibly catch him—she was too far away, he was too large for her, she could never take his weight—but nothing seemed to matter but getting under him and cushioning his fall.

Zirenth sideslipped away from the wall, his wings clawing for air as he tried to gain enough altitude to go between, unable to sense life in T’mar’s body.

No! a voice cried. I won’t lose you!

Later, Fiona couldn’t say whose voice it was. She fervently added her strength to the cry even as she ran.

And then, as she saw T’mar’s legs pass her outstretched arms, she felt a hand touch her shoulder and she knew that she would catch him, alive or not. Energy coursed through the hand and into her; it redoubled again even as a voice shouted, Hold him! Don’t let him get away!

Fiona glanced upward and gripped Zirenth in her thoughts. The bronze dragon roared in agony and writhed in the air as though fighting off an entanglement, then gave another defiant bellow and angled his flight back down to the ground.

Time returned to normal as the weight of T’mar’s body fell full onto Fiona’s outstretched arms and, with a grunt of pain, she collapsed on the ground under him, his head and arms cradled on her lap.

“Don’t move,” Lorana ordered hoarsely.

“Are you all right?” Terin asked, her voice near hysterical.

Kindan! Fiona was surprised that she heard Lorana’s call, and then the harper arrived beside her and knelt over T’mar’s head. He examined it carefully, his eyes taking in everything before he moved his hands.

“We’ve got to get his headgear off,” Kindan said. Blood was on his hands and Fiona realized with a start that T’mar’s scalp was bleeding. She made to wipe it away but was halted by Kindan’s harsh, “Don’t move!”

Kindan turned to Terin. “Get scissors!”

Terin paused mid-stride, then turned and ran back to her station.

How is he?

“He’s breathing,” Kindan said, pointing to T’mar’s chest. “So he’s still alive.”

“Look at his leg!” It was Bekka. Fiona followed the youngster’s finger and was horrified to see that T’mar’s right leg was not only broken from the fall but also chewed up by Thread. She could see bone near the knee.

“Bekka, get your gear,” Fiona said. The girl nodded once and tore off to her station.

“I’m worried about his head and his neck,” Kindan said aloud. He glanced toward Fiona. “If his neck is broken, one wrong move will kill him.”