Энн Маккефри: Beyond Between

His anxiety did not go unnoticed by his children, so that night and the following day one of Thaniel’s daughters or sons stayed with him in the hold while the others went about the routine of checking stock. But, then, just before dusk, Bill came charging back on his little runner, self-important with the news that a beast had trapped itself in a narrow gully and couldn’t find enough foot purchase to get free. All hands were needed to hoist the animal to safety so Jerra, attending her father that day, would have to go back with her brother. Thaniel and Bill assembled ropes, straps, and lanterns and stowed them carefully on Bill’s runner. Jerra and the boy were clearly reluctant to leave their father alone, but Thaniel reassured them that he would be quite all right and, after all, the animal must be rescued.

The dust kicked up by Bill’s and Jerra’s mounts had only just settled when Thaniel was overcome by a terrible sinking feeling that was punctuated by a frightful scream from Rusty. Heart skipping several beats, Thaniel crept to the door, holding a thick stick as long as a man’s arm. He opened the door and scanned the horizon for any sign of dragons. All he saw was Rusty rearing on his hind legs, striking out with his forefeet at some invisible foe. Within a few moments the runner started to calm down, only to start shrieking again. He was so frightened that he backed away from the fence as fast as his feet could move. Then he stopped, firm in his tracks, starring intently ahead of him — at nothing. Concern overriding fear as the terrified beast started pawing the ground, Thaniel left the safety of his hold doorway and approached the enclosure, beckoning Rusty to him. The animal ignored him, his ears pricked forward and his eyes fastened on to something in front of him that only he could see.

“What is it, old fellow? What’s bothering you?” Thaniel asked as he watched the muscles on Rusty’s shoulders quivering. Rusty pawed the ground again. Thaniel passed a hand over his eyes, rubbing them, before he peered again at the empty space that transfixed Rusty. Suddenly, the runnerbeast took a huge step backward, nearly sitting on his hindquarters in his attempt at high-speed retreat. Then, after kicking his hind legs high behind him and prodding the ground with his forelegs, the distraught animal tore around the enclosure like an unbroken yearling, wheeling and rearing as if Thread or some other unthinkable terror were engulfing him.

Thaniel’s jaw dropped.

“He only does that when there’s dragons about,” he said to himself. “Maybe Rusty’s just beyond it, and the kindest thing would be to put the old fellow down. Can’t have him screaming like that every night!” Shaking his head, he turned away from the runnerbeast and walked back into his hold.

And so Rusty’s wild behavior continued, night after night, until the fifth evening after Moreta had vanished intobetween. That night, Thaniel was watching at the right time. To his utter amazement, the full moon illuminated the ethereal forms of a dragon and rider.

Hollering louder than Rusty, Thaniel dropped his club, turned, and fled back to his hold, where he slammed the door quickly behind him.

Five days earlier.

Moreta felt the better for the klah the old holder had given her. She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten, though she must have, as her stomach didn’t feel all that empty. But she was so tired, and even the longest Fall had never seemed so endless and draining. Just this one last jumpbetween and then Holth could rest, too, for the old queen had been valiant. As she sprang from the ground on this last leg of their day’s journeying, Moreta began her litany against her fear ofbetween. “Black, blacker, blackest. ”

Never hadbetween felt so cold to her, even with the warmth of klah seeping into her veins. Hugging herself with her arms to ward off the chill, she closed her eyes against the unrelenting blackness ofbetween. Then she opened them again, as, out of the corner of her eye, her brain registered something different about her surroundings, something unexpected.

Is that a light?She turned toward it, shaking her head, waiting for the darkness to greet her eyes once again. Instead, a grayness lay before her, imperceptibly blending with the black ofbetween. Somehow, she did not feel so cold anymore. She felt an overwhelming desire to move away from the grayness and suddenly realized that Holth was motionless. Surely more than the usual eight seconds had passed. She had nearly finished the verse of her litany and they were still — immovably — between.

Holth?she cried.What has happened? We are not back at Fort Weyr!

We arebetween.I did not “see” where we should go, replied Holth in a querulous tone, bugling in distress.

Panic welled in Moreta’s chest and she tried to think back to what she had said to Holth as the tired old dragon had lurched off the ground. She shook her head.

I had to have visualized Fort Weyr for you, Holth!she protested, forcing her time-wearied mind to recall exactly what she had said.I’ve been a rider too long to make such a weyrling mistake.

We are both tired,Holth replied blandly.We went between,as you said. That is all we did.

Why didn’t you ask me where?Moreta demanded sharply, wondering how a dragon so experienced could have forgotten something so basic.

You have been telling me where to go, and at what time to get there, all day. You always gave me the directions. Specific directions, according to the sun. This time you only told me to gobetween. Despair crept into the dragon’s mental tone.

Frantically quelling her own mounting panic, Moreta recalled that she had indeed only told weary old Holth to gobetween, assuming that the dragon had also heard her say that this was the last time she’d have to jump. Meaning, of course, for them to jumpbetween to “home,” Fort Weyr, where they could both rest after the arduous day; home to Leri and home to Orlith and her eggs. She hugged herself tightly and looked longingly behind her, as if she were looking at her past. A past she could not change.Move, Holth! Maybe we can find our way back. Holth uttered a disbelieving noise and made no move with either wing or leg.

I cannot go anywhere.There was just the slightest emphasis on “go.”

“What do you mean, you can’t ‘go’?” Moreta cried out loud.

Not yet, and not with you,was Holth’s cryptic reply.

We must go home. They are expecting us. Leri will be worried about you, and Orlith will be frantic.

I know,the dragon replied.I cannot reach them, she added after a brief pause.

Frightened, Moreta pushed her thoughts out for the comforting touch of Orlith, ever present at the back of her mind and often stronger when they were separated. For the first time, it was not there, and Moreta gasped. This couldn’t be happening! She thought as, unbidden, tears flowed down her cheeks. Overwhelming grief consumed her.

ORLITH!she cried.

Just then, she saw something moving, gray against grayer, but shaped like a dragon with its rider on its withers.

“Hallo there!” a male voice called. And he waved an arm at her. Moreta momentarily froze and then desperately wiped at her wet face. This was an impossible nightmare, and now she was hearing things as well as seeing — inbetween! “Wait for me!” the man called out.

Stunned, Moreta numbly waited while an unusually small, brown dragon halted neatly just a nose away from Holth. The old dragon put her nose forward and made the expected courtesy touch with a newcomer. Then Holth backed up with far more energy than she had previously shown.

Duluth?the gold dragon asked, surprised.

“What’s happening? Who are you? Why can I hear and see you?” Moreta cried. The panic was rising in her again. The old queen backed up a further step.