Dragonheart

arrived. Fiona was straightening up over the table when she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. She jerked her head around in time to see a dark shadow against the nooning sun and, with a cry of horror, raced to the falling dragonrider.

Catch the head!  she remembered from the drill they’d done days past. Arms outstretched, she raced to catch the rider’s head and shoulders, only to misjudge and have the rider land full on her, crushing her to the ground. It was the last thing she remembered for a long while.

When she awoke, she was in her bed and it was dark. Her forehead was cold and wet; someone had put a cloth over it.

“Don’t move,” a voice told her warningly. She thought maybe it was Kentai.

“Don’t speak,” Xhinna put in sharply. “You took a nasty blow to the head.”

“You’ll probably have a concussion, so we’re going to keep an eye on you,” the Weyr harper added, reaching over to touch the cloth. “In a moment, I’m going to uncover a glow and I want you to open your eyes and close them the moment you see the glow. Don’t nod or move your head.”

“You were lucky Zirenth managed to ease T’mar’s fall,” Xhinna said, although it sounded to Fiona as though the younger girl were saying it more to reassure herself.

“Okay, open your eyes and close them when you see the glow,” Kentai said calmly.

Fiona opened her eyes and immediately spotted the glow held in his hands about a handspan in front of her. She closed her eyes, feeling suddenly quite drained.

“Good,” Kentai noted. “Now, without opening your eyes, can you lift your right hand?”

Fiona could and did.

“Lower it and raise your left,” Kentai told her. Fiona did. “Excellent!” She heard the sounds of him rising and a rustle as Xhinna rose beside him.

“There doesn’t seem to be any lasting damage,” Kentai said softly — probably he meant his words for Xhinna’s ears only, but Fiona’s were strangely acute at the moment. “She should rest. Don’t give her any fellis juice without checking with me.”

“Okay,” Xhinna replied, her tone a bit hesitant.

“How bad was it?” Fiona demanded, willing herself to stay still. She heard a startled intake of breath, probably Kentai, and persisted, “How bad was it? I need to know.”

“You’re fine,” Kentai said.

“Not me, the others,” Fiona replied.

There was a silence.

“Tell me!”

“Seventeen were lost, twelve have serious injuries, twenty-three others have injuries that will keep them from flying for up to three months,” Kentai reported grimly.

“And?” Fiona prompted.

“We’ve identified twenty-five more sick dragons,” Kentai concluded. After a moment’s pause, he added, “You must get better, Fiona. Your courage inspired everyone today.”

“I was stupid!” Fiona groaned.

“You saved T’mar’s life,” Kentai corrected. “You risked your own to do it.”

“How is he?”

“Alive, thanks to you,” Kentai told her. “Now get some rest, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of visitors tomorrow, T’mar included.” He cleared his throat with a chuckle. “After all, it’s not every day that a wingleader is saved by a Weyrwoman. It’s usually the other way around.”

“Go on, harper, I’ll look after her,” Xhinna said. Fiona heard the harper’s footsteps fade away as he made his way through Talenth’s weyr and out to the Weyr Bowl.

Talenth?  Fiona called.

I wasn’t worried about you,  Talenth said, sounding to Fiona very much like she’d been worried sick. I knew you were going to be all right.  She told me so.

She?  Fiona wondered.

Shh, get some rest,  a different voice echoed in Fiona’s mind. We’re keeping an eye on you, you’ll do fine.

The voice sounded so calm, so assured, so sensible. Cisca? Xhinna? No, the voice sounded like neither.

Sleep,  the voice said gently, firmly.

Fiona drifted off to sleep.

Fiona woke to the feeling that she was being watched. She stirred, then stopped as a voice spoke. “Don’t move.”

She heard the sound of someone rising from a chair — someone too big to be Xhinna; besides, the voice was male — and heard the person move awkwardly out of the room.

“I’ll be back with the harper,” the voice assured her. “You’re to stay still until he examines you.”

T’mar. Fiona opened her mouth to protest, but apparently the wingleader hadn’t gone so far that he didn’t notice, for he chided her with, “No, don’t talk, either!”

And then he was gone, leaving Fiona alone with her thoughts. No, not quite alone. Talenth?

Fiona! her dragon responded instantly. There was a tone of contrition and embarrassment.

You’re eating?  Fiona thought to her, getting a fuzzy notion that her gold was over by the Feeding Grounds.

I was hungry,  Talenth said. She said I should eat.

She?

Melirth,  Talenth replied, her tone brightening, tinged with awe and pleasure. She’s very kind.

Yes, she is,  Fiona responded, wondering if perhaps it had been Melirth she’d heard the night before. But dragons rarely spoke so cogently, being more concerned with the here and the now.

Noise at the entrance to her quarters alerted her to the arrival of others.

Eat hearty, love,  Fiona called to her dragon.

I am,  Talenth replied, sounding as though her mental mouth were full. Fiona got the impression of warm, hot meat, and suddenly felt her stomach growl.

“Well, that’s auspicious!” a voice called from the approaching footsteps. T’mar. “I’ve sent for food.”

“She should start with liquids — a good light broth, first,” Kentai corrected. “No klah. ”

“No klah ?” Fiona and T’mar objected in unison. There was a moment’s silence as they reacted to their impromptu chorus, then T’mar continued solo, “From what Xhinna says, this girl practically lives on klah !”

This girl! Fiona muttered mentally. T’mar wasn’t all that much older than Kindan, and Kindan was . . . much older than she.

“A concussion,” Kentai lectured, rounding on T’mar, “which you avoided, courtesy of this child — ”

“Child!” Fiona blurted out in protest.

“I beg your pardon, Weyrwoman,” Kentai responded after a moment of dumbfounded silence.

“No klah ?” Fiona prompted, quietly accepting his apology.

“It might make it more difficult to recover,” Kentai explained. “Klah  has been associated with headaches, and you’ll want to avoid that.”

“For how long?” T’mar and Fiona again asked in unison. Kentai chuckled while Fiona fought to keep herself from blushing.

“We’ll check at the end of the day,” Kentai said. Fiona felt someone remove the cloth on her head, feel her forehead, and replace the cloth. “There’s no sign of fever.” She heard Kentai turn and grab something, then mutter to T’mar, “Close the curtains.”

A moment later, Fiona heard the curtains that separated her quarters from Talenth’s being closed, followed by the curtains to the outside corridor. By now, her room should be quite dark.