And so he flew, Hirad's protestations loud in his mind. He flew low and fast feeling the wind rushing past him, his wings strong and his talons flexing. He had no fire and he would not need it. If he could drive them back it would give him the time he needed for Denser to cast for him. And much though he wanted to stay and help The Raven, he had to return home. The birthings were imminent but, more than that, he had to assess what damage the Xeteskian dimensional spell-casting had done to the space between.

He had felt another casting this morning and their lack of awareness was rupturing the boundaries.

Sha-Kaan kept the thoughts of home fresh in his mind. The scents of the Broodlands, the calls of his Brood and the Vestare who supported them so selflessly. The feel of the warm, damp air over his scales, the taste of the flame grass and the embrace of the clouds. Today he would return to experience it all or he would die on Balaia.

He saw the spells pounding the gates on one side and a section of wall on the other. He saw scattered elves trying to pick off targets and others lying where they had been hit by spell or bow-fire. He saw the first enemy look around and the mass of faces that followed the inevitable shout. He saw them lose their discipline and some start to run. He barked loud, the sound splitting the air, and he dived.

Driving in, wings swept back and away to present the smallest target, he could make out mages in a group, sitting quite still. He knew their plan. Arrows flicked past him, any that struck bouncing harmlessly from his scales. Those men could not hurt him. He barked again, his jaws wide, sucking in the air. He closed them with a snap that could be heard a mile away and plunged in, seeing the spell released.

It was a ball of blue flame, bigger than his head and streaming smoke behind it as it rushed towards him. He let it close then unfurled his wings, the sudden bite on the air slowing him and giving him dramatic lift, sending him soaring above its trajectory.

He arced gracefully in the air and came in again. Below him, most men were running for cover but the mages, now split into several groups and defended by the most courageous, were steadfast. Barrelling in just above the rooftops, he swooped into the college square, his huge bulk seeming to fill one side of it completely.

He landed deliberately hard, crushing men beneath talon and body, sliding forwards and ripping up the cobbles, and using his wings to brake him and send him back into the air before he collided with the buildings the opposite side. He banked sharply and came in again, his bark echoing from every wall. He beat down, slowing, hind feet stamping down on more men, his neck jabbing forwards to snatch and crush mage after mage.

Sha-Kaan flung them at the ground, bit them in two and spat out the remains. He moved heavily across the ground, feeling the pinpricks of swords. His fore-claws lashed out, ripping heads from shoulders and gouging great rents in chests and stomachs. Bodies were flung away and there was nothing they could do. He ran forwards and took off again, climbing hard, banking and turning for another pass.

Below him, men crawled or ran from the square. He had broken them. He trumpeted and dove again, swooping low and snatching another man from the ground. Hirad's warning came too late and he hadn't seen it. From around the corner of the college, came a torrent of hail, driven by a mana wind. He dropped the body and tried to climb but the hail raked down the underside of his body, tore into his wings and peppered his great tail.

Sha-Kaan howled in anguish, the pain biting into him, deeper and deeper. The mages from the other side of the college had been quick. Too quick for him and he had been blinded by his success. He had to climb away, to reach safety where he could see to his wounds. But the hail had damaged the wing membrane and it was weak. Too weak to withstand this atmosphere for long. The muscles at the roots were cut deeply and blood poured from him like rain.

He looked down. Only one place to go, only one hope remained. He angled sharply again and half flew, half fell into the college.

'No!' roared Hirad. He pushed past The Raven and began to run down the gatehouse stairs.

He knew where Sha-Kaan intended to land. He had felt the pain of the DeathHail strike as if it was his own. But he was unharmed while the Great Kaan was seriously, if not mortally, wounded. Weakened from his long years of exile, he was so vulnerable. Why had he not listened?

Hirad burst into the gateyard and ran up the wide pathway that crossed the entire college and that had as its centre point the Heart pit. The Al-Arynaar and Julatsan mages were gathering there for the second, and what would be final, attempt at the Heart raise. Denser and Erienne were with them, all of them looking into the sky at the stricken dragon trying to control his fall.

'Get out of the way!' he yelled as he ran. 'Clear the area. Move, move!'

He was waving his arms frantically and it took an age for them to see him. When they did, they began to run, heading for cover in the refectory, the infirmary, the lecture theatre or any long room that was close enough. He saw Denser shepherding Erienne to safety and breathed again, not slowing his pace.

Sha-Kaan took die roof off the lecture theatre, his hind legs ripping through stone, wood and slate, bringing half the building tumbling down. The impact drove him up a few feet before his wings folded and he crashed to the ground, legs giving way, sending him rolling and bouncing over the Heart pit. His tail bit through the frontages of both refectory and infirmary, striking stone, his neck was coiled in to protect his head as he rolled and eventually he slid to a stop, his back hitting a long room with a shuddering force that bowed the stone.

Behind him, dust billowed into the air and Hirad ran with a hand over his mouth and.the other trying to keep the grit from his eyes. He was half blinded but he could see the heaving mass of Sha-Kaan and the neck still moving, dragging his head around to fix on his Dragonene.

Hirad slithered to a halt by his head and looked into a slowly blinking eye. He didn't have to ask after the dragon's condition, he could feel everything. Sha-Kaan couldn't shield the agony from him. The spell had blistered him where it struck, the cold hail prising up scales that had torn free when he crashed. He seemed to be bleeding from every part of his body.

Hirad placed a hand on the dragon's head, fighting back panic. Around him, he could hear running feet and cries from those who had sheltered in the wrong places. He sent a short prayer that few had been badly hurt and turned his full attention to the ailing beast.

'It was not my best landing,' said Sha-Kaan, his voice choked and pained. 'It was the landing of a newly weaned birthling.'

'This is not the time for jokes,' said Hirad. 'You've got to hang on.'

'You have told me that there was always time for jokes,' responded Sha-Kaan.

'Not now, not now,' said Hirad. 'What can I do? Gods, but you are a mess.'

The startling blue eye blinked very slowly, the lid seeming to struggle on its way back up. 'There is little you can do,' he said. 'I have overstayed my welcome in your dimension.'

'So we'll send you home. Now,' said Hirad, turning. 'Denser! Denser get over here!'

'Hirad, I don't think I have the strength to get up on my feet, let alone fly inter-dimensional space back to Beshara. Keep your mage's strength, you need it more than I.'

'No way,' said Hirad. 'No way. Hold on.'

He felt the surge of pain that ran up and down Sha-Kaan's body. Ribs were cracked, wing membranes torn, neck sprained and tail broken. He turned and opened his mouth to shout throught the dust cloud that still swirled around the Heart pit.