A bronze dragon suddenly appeared beside him: H’nez. One quick look at H’nez’s expression was enough to confirm T’mar’s worst fears.

We must get help, T’mar thought, wondering which Weyr to ask, and how soon help could arrive. Another dragon screamed in pain, its bellow cut off midway as it sought the safety of between.

“We’re getting destroyed!” H’nez’s voice carried across the dragonlength’s distance.

T’mar nodded in grim agreement.

“I’m going to ask for help,” T’mar yelled back.

“Who?”

But before T’mar could respond, a bellow from above caused him to glance up and he saw a Wing of dragons burst into existence above him.

“Benden!” H’nez shouted. “We’re saved!” Even as he said it, he urged Ginirth down into a tight dive to circle back and up to the head of his own Wing in flight on T’mar’s right.

T’mar glanced up, a big grin of relief on his face as he picked out the brilliant red diamond with the Benden “II” in the center—B’nik himself had come to their aid!

T’mar waved enthusiastically, and then, as he saw the sudden peril, waved frantically to the Weyrleader hoping to alert him to his peril just as—

—the clump of Thread landed on the rider’s back and, in one instant obliterated the red and diamond of Benden Weyr, engulfed the rider in a haze of blood and death. With one horrible scream, rider and dragon disappeared between forever.

Alone bronze dragon burst into the early evening air above Benden Weyr and dropped quickly into the Weyr Bowl, the rider ignoring Minith’s warbled challenge and racing across the grounds, eyes wide, searching desperately for something.

“What is it? What are you doing?” Tullea shouted to the frantic man. She recognized the shoulder knots of a Weyrleader and the white and black fields of wheat—T’mar of Telgar.

T’mar skidded to a halt in front of her, tears streaming from his eyes, and he fell on his knees in front of her, clasping her around the waist.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” T’mar cried, his voice muffled against the folds of her pants.

Tullea raised a hand to her cheek, eyes wide with fright. “B’nik?”

T’mar glanced up at her, his face tear-streaked. “He flew to our aid. Flew to save us and …”

“No!” Tullea cried, herself collapsing to the ground with him. “No, it can’t be!”

Inside the Hatching Grounds, Minith bugled in concern and horror.

“It can’t be!” Tullea repeated, tears starting down her cheeks as she shook her head in the vain hope of shaking off the Telgar Weyrleader’s words.

A rush of air above them and a roar of dragons startled everyone. From within the Hatching Ground, Minith bugled again, this time sounding defiant and proud.