Sobs welled up in his throat, he choked them down. His heart felt as tight as if there were copper bands around it, and he prayed wordlessly. Surely the gods had not brought him this far only to snatch everything away from him!
He looked back again; there were three dragons in pursuit of him now, for all the rest had dropped out of the race. But these three were obeying their Jousters, and he thought they looked a little nearer, though not near enough to tell who they were. Just the colors; a scarlet, a green, and a blue.
He looked down; they were over the desert, which undulated beneath them in waves of pale sand, broken by rocky outcrops.
The breath of the desert, hot, dusty, and so arid it parched his lips, wafted up to them. He bent over Avatre's neck, and shouted encouragement to her.
He'd had no idea where to go, but she, guided by instinct alone, was heading for the same hills that her mother had sought at the end of the mating flight. Those hills were riddled with caves and rich with game—and they marked the boundary of the lands that could truly be called 'Tian.' Out there, although Tia claimed the earth, it really belonged to the dragons and the wild, wandering tribesmen of the Baydu, the Blue People, the Veiled Ones who called no man 'king.' If they could reach the hills, they could hide there. They could stay under cover until the hunters had given up.
But the hills were a long way away, and there were three trained dragons in pursuit. He crouched lower over Avatre's neck, and willed his own strength into her. His long hair whipped into his face; he ignored it, and tried to wish himself lighter than he already was.
When they were halfway between the hills and the Great Mother River, he looked back again. Avatre was still flying strongly, showing no signs of tiring. And now there were only two dragons following. One, the scarlet, had dropped down and was gliding behind the other two, making a long, slow turn to return to the compound.
His heart leaped. One gone—could they outdistance the other two?
'Go, my love, my beauty!' he shouted at Avatre's head. 'Go! We are small and light as down; ride the wind, my heart! Take us to freedom!'
He thought she responded to his encouragement with a little more power.
One gone—two to go.
But they were two Jousters, and he was only a dragon boy on First Flight. They had strength and experience on their side; all he had was hope and heart, and the valor of a very young dragonet.
He looked down again; the sand was interrupted by more and larger outcroppings of rock. They were getting closer to the hills. He redoubled his prayers.
With every wing beat, they drew nearer to escape. When they reached the hills, he looked back again.
One of the two remaining dragons had turned back!
But the third was still in hot pursuit, and was closing the gap between them.
And now he could see, with pitiless clarity, that the third was Kashet.
His heart felt as if it was being squeezed, and for a moment, he was blinded by tears. But he leaned over her neck again and begged Avatre to fly faster, harder—
She heard him, and he felt her trying to do as he asked. They topped the first set of hills—
But below them he saw the ground of the second rising to meet them, closer than it should have been—
She was losing relative height and real height as well. He felt her muscles beginning to tremble, and knew then that she was running out of strength and endurance.
And a shadow passed over them, between them and the sun, the superior position for a Jouster to force another dragon to earth.
He knew without looking up that it was Kashet.
It was over.
Ari had caught them, and he would force them down, take them both captive. The teams of trainers and soldiers that Haraket had surely sent after them would come and take them back, bound and chained.
They would take Avatre away from him, if he allowed that to happen. Avatre was at the end of her strength, and there was nothing more that she could give him.
