5. Idrilia #2
Commander Pentell nodded. "We'll prioritize the head injury and the ribs. Broken bones can wait." She turned to study the terrain around us. "This slope is too unstable for multiple landings. It will have to be one dragon at a time."
She turned toward her dragonia and went still, her eyes fixed on the rust-red face with an intensity that suggested a telepathic conversation.
I'd read about it, of course. Everyone knew that riders spoke to their dragons through their minds. The commander must have issued orders to her entire flight without uttering a single word, relayed through her dragonia to the others circling above.
The dragonia's great head tilted slightly, those enormous eyes blinking once, and then Commander Pentell turned back to us.
A moment later, one of the circling dragons broke formation and descended, carrying something in its talons that I couldn't identify until it got closer.
It was a cage. A metal frame roughly the size of a large coffin, with a stretcher secured inside.
It had padded walls and buckled straps designed to immobilize a patient during transport.
The dragon released it from about three meters up, and it landed in the snow with a heavy crunch, skidding slightly before settling.
"This is a rescue cradle," Pentell said. "The patient is secured inside, and the dragon carries it in its talons. We reserve it for the most critically injured."
It was an elegant solution that answered my questions about transporting the injured who couldn't sit behind a rider.
"I need your people to help. The cradle needs to be loaded and secured properly, then moved to the pickup zone." She pointed to a small open area about ten meters away where the slope was less cluttered with debris. "The dragon will make a low pass and catch the handlebars."
"Show us what to do," I said.
Pentell walked toward Horrov, who was the most seriously wounded.
"Lay him flat, keep his head stabilized.
The straps go across the chest, hips, and thighs.
The head brace clicks into the slots on either side.
" She demonstrated the mechanism, and I was struck by how well designed the equipment was.
Every buckle, every strap, every padding element must have been refined through years of mountain rescues.
Jeffson and Kelth carefully lifted Horrov onto the stretcher while Sorel stabilized his head. The man groaned but didn't fully wake, which concerned me. Pentell secured the straps, checking each one twice, then locked the head brace into position.
"Move it to the pickup zone," Commander Pentell ordered.
Four team members carried the cradle to the designated spot, their boots sliding on the icy debris. Pentell looked at her dragonia again, and that same focused stillness followed. A moment later, one of the hovering dragons peeled away from the formation and began his descent.
He was much bigger than Commander Pentell's dragonia, at least fifty percent heavier, and I was glad that he wasn't going to attempt landing.
The dragon came in low along the mountainside, talons extended, and I instinctively flinched, certain he was going to slam into the slope.
But at the last moment he leveled out, snatched the cradle's handlebars in his talons with a precision that seemed impossible for a creature his size, and climbed away without ever touching the ground.
The whole maneuver took seconds.
Awed, I gaped.
"Who's next?" Pentell asked.
"Palel," Sorel told her. "He also needs a cradle."
She turned toward her dragon for another silent exchange, and a moment later a second cradle was dropped by a dragon, landing in roughly the same spot as the first. This time, I helped with the loading despite Jeffson's glares.
Palel was conscious and terrified, his eyes enormous as he was strapped in. "I don't want to go in this contraption. I can sit. Don't make me do this."
Understanding his fear, I felt sorry for him, but this was the best mode of transportation for him given his injuries.
"This is perfectly safe," I said. "Just close your eyes and pretend you are lying in a hammock." I tightened the chest strap the way Commander Pentell had shown us.
"I hate this," he said fervently.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"If I survive this, I'm requesting a transfer to a laboratory position. Permanently."
"You'll survive." I clicked the head brace into place even though his head was fine. Commander Pentell had insisted that every cradle passenger be fully secured regardless of their specific injuries. "And I'll approve the transfer personally."
The second dragon swept in and collected him with the same breathtaking precision. Palel uttered a strangled scream as the cradle left the ground.
"You," Commander Liora Pentell said, turning to Gavon. "The one with the broken ankle. Can you sit upright and hold on with one hand?"
"I can," Gavon said. "But I need help mounting. Even without injuries, I wouldn't know how to do this."
"Don't worry about that. We know how to transport non-riders.
" The commander communicated silently with her dragonia again, and the rust-red dragon lowered herself as flat as she could manage on her small patch of stable ground.
She and Jeffson helped Gavon hobble over, and between the two of them, they got him onto the dragonia's back behind the rider's position.
"Hold the grip. Don't let go, and don't lean." The commander strapped Gavon in with an efficiency that suggested she'd secured reluctant civilians many times before. "And don't look down if it bothers you."