Canth started to open his wings and screamed in agony as they were wrenched back. The snapping of his strong forelimbs went unheard in the incredible roar of the furnace-hot tornadic winds that seized them from the relative calm of the downdraft. There was air enveloping the Red Star—a burning hot air, whipped to flame-heat by brutal turbulences. The helpless dragon and rider were like a feather, dropped hundreds of lengths only to be slammed upward, end over end, with hideous force. As they tumbled, their minds paralyzed by the holocaust they had entered, F’nor had a nightmare glimpse of the gray surfaces toward and away from which they were alternately thrown and removed: the Neratian tip was a wet, slick gray that writhed and bubbled and oozed. Then they were thrown into the reddish clouds that were shot with nauseating grays and whites, here and there torn by massive orange rivers of lightning. A thousand hot points burned the unprotected skin of F’nor’s face, pitted Canth’s hide, penetrating each lid over the dragon’s eyes. The overwhelming, multileveled sound of the cyclonic atmosphere battered their minds ruthlessly to unconsciousness.

Then they were hurled into the awesome calm of a funnel of burning, sand-filled heat and fell toward the surface—crippled and impotent.

Painridden, F’nor had only one thought as his senses failed him. The Weyr! The Weyr must be warned!

—

Grall returned to Brekke, crying piteously, burrowing into Brekke’s arm. She was trembling with fear but her thoughts made such chaotic nonsense that Brekke was unable to isolate the cause of her terror.

She stroked and soothed the little queen, tempting her with morsels of meat to no effect. The little lizard refused to be quieted. Then Berd caught Grall’s anxiety and when Brekke scolded him, Grall’s excitement and anguish intensified.

Suddenly Mirrim’s two greens came swooping into the weyr, twittering and fluttering, also affected by the irrational behavior of the little queen. Mirrim came running in then, escorted by her brown, bugling and fanning his gossamer wings into a blur.

“Whatever is the matter? Are you all right, Brekke?”

“I’m perfectly all right,” Brekke assured her, pushing away the hand Mirrim extended to her forehead. “They’re just excited, that’s all. It’s the middle of the night. Go back to bed.”

“Just excited?” Mirrim pursed her lips the way Lessa did when she knew someone was evading her. “Where’s Canth? Why ever did they leave you alone?”

“Mirrim!” Brekke’s tone brought the girl up sharp. She flushed, looking down at her feet, hunching her shoulders in the self-effacing way Brekke deplored. Brekke closed her eyes, fighting to be calm although the distress of the five fire-lizards was insidious. “Please get me some strong klah.”