planted his left frnt foot, swinging left () it in response to her pull
on his mouth and her right heel as he brought his other feet down. In
moments they were among the trees and quickly reached the track.
Bilwil tried once to pull to the left, to go back to the hold, but she
kicked him sharply and he went right. They were far enough from the
hold so that his hoof heats wouldn’t be audible – not unless someone had
their ear to the ground, which was unlikely. Noses would be to the
grindstones, where hers no longer was. The thought made her grin,
though she was not as yet safe from discovery.
As soon as the track widened, she set Bilwil to a canter, enjoying the
one activity in which she took any pleasure.
She stopped several times, to rest her own backside as well as Bilwil’s
and found late berries to eat. She really ought to have snatched up the
last of the breakfast cheese or even an apple or two to tide her on the
way.
It wasn’t until she reached the final leg of the journey up to the
Telgar Weyr that she was aware of pursuit. Or at least spied three
horsemen on the road. They could well be visitors, coming for the
Hatching, but it was prudent to suspect the worst. Her father could be
one, and possibly Boris and Ganmar the other two. Either way, she had
to get to the safety of the Weyr before they caught her up. How had
they made so much time in pursuit of her? Had someone seen her after
all and run to alert Lavel?
A long tunnel had been carved in the thinnest wall of the Telgar Crater
as access for surface traffic. it was lit with glow baskets.
Bilwil was tired from the last long, steep climb on top of yesterday’s
work. She thought she heard male voices yelling at her and kicked
Bilwil into a weary trot. No matter how she used her heels on his ribs,
he wouldn’t extend his stride. Then she heard the humming – as if it
emanated from the walls around her. She knew what that meant and she
gave a cry of despair.
After all this, she’d be too late and there wouldn’t be a dragon left
for her to Impress . even if she had been Searched. How could she
possibly go back? She wouldn’t.
She knew her rights. She’d been Searched. She could stay at the Weyr
until the next clutch. Anything was preferable to going back to what
she’d just left. The union with Ganmar would not have been any real
improvement, although she had been determined to establish a proper
relationship with the young miner. He looked impressible. Her own
mother had told her that there were ways of handling a man so he didn’t
even know he was being managed. But Milla had died before she could
impart those ways to her daughter. And Gisa, who had probably given up
all thought of a second union if she had been desperate enough to
part net her father, was a natural victim who enjoyed being dominated.
More hoof steps sounded in the tunnel and, desperate to reach her
objective, Debera kicked Bilwil on. The gallant animal fell into a
heavy canter that jarred every bone in her body but they made it into
the Bowl.
Debera could see that not only was the Hatching Ground full of people,
but also new, staggering drago nets But, as she got close enough, she
saw there were still a few eggs. Her pursuers were catching up. She
had no need to halt Bilwil at the entrance; he stopped moving forward
the moment she stopped kicking him. She slid off and raced towards the
Hatching Ground just as her father, Boris and Ganmar caught up, yelling
at her to stop. To come to her senses . . .
She wrenched herself free of grasping hands just in time to reach
Morath. And finally came into her own.
Now, as she made her way back to the weyrling barracks, she was as tired
as she had ever been in her life and far happier! As she rattled the