So it's protection in more ways than one.

Grateful nevertheless for his cotton tunic and trousers, Kheda pressed on, trying not to slow as the thick vegetation snagged his bow and quiver. Realising the ground was starting to slope gradually upwards, he risked standing a little straighter every few paces to search the rising forest ahead. Soon he could make out individual twisted nut trees and the pale-green sprawls of the fat spiny plants. The tussocks gradually thinned and disappeared, and they had reached the open space separating the grassland from the trees.

The wild men were running flat out, intent on their destination. Kheda spotted a contingent who had cut a diagonal path veering eastwards through the grasses to emerge some way ahead, deeper inland. The scarred spearman pushed past Kheda and the warlord followed,

the breath pounding in his chest. As he ran, Kheda pressed one hand to the neck of his quiver, ready to pull out the first envenomed arrow. The rocky outcrop reared up above the treetops. Mouth dry, Kheda scanned the hollows and shadows for any outline of the lurking dragon.

All you mages have to do is keep the beast off our backs. Then perhaps we can make this a rapid victory with the fewest possible deaths on either side.

Shouts broke out up ahead, startled and belligerent. Kheda heard the distinctive flick of bowstrings and the churr of inexpertly fletched arrows. Fearsome yells cut through the confusion as the fight spread among the trees. Slowing to a walk, Kheda carefully drew one poisoned arrow from his quiver. Wild men rushed past him, intent on joining the battle. Nocking his shaft, Kheda held the bow low, the lethal arrowhead angled away from himself. The scarred spearman looked back over his shoulder, grunting a clear question.

'Go on.' Kheda conveyed his meaning with a jerk of his head. The wild warrior didn't hesitate, hefting his spear up over one shoulder. The warlord took a moment to get his bearings and edged along the shallow slope. As the trees thinned, he saw the open space in front of the bottommost caves. The cave dwellers were mostly lurking in the shadows. A few were crouching behind the barricade of thorny branches they were used to defending from the predatory birds.

So much for drawing the enemy out into the open and scattering them with an arrow storm. Will Naldeth believe me when I tell him every Aldabreshin warlord knows that plans are generally the earliest casualties in any battle?

Arrows hissed through the air and clattered against the stone. Few found targets but the shock of such an unexpected attack clearly disconcerted the cave dwellers. Those in the shadows drew further back and those trapped

behind the thorn barrier cowered lower. The village spearmen shouted and jeered triumphantly.

Those bows give our side confidence. That'1l count for something. If I can pick off anyone who looks like a cave-dweller leader, that'll count for more.

Looking carefully, Kheda soon identified a man among those hiding behind the thorn barricade who was urging his companions back in the caves to action. The savage half-stood and shouted, waving his spear. Cave dwellers clutched spears and clubs and edged forward into the sunlight. Before Kheda could get a clear shot at the shouting man, the newly fledged archers waiting in the tree line loosed another flurry of reckless arrows.

The shouting man ducked hastily back down and the would-be relief force retreated back into the shadows. Taunts from the trees accompanied a second cascade of arrows, this time directed at the thorn barrier. The twisted branches brushed most of the missiles aside but some penetrated to provoke cries of pain. Angry yelling from the heights of the rocky outcrop drowned out a shouted exchange between those pinned behind the outer defences and whoever might be commanding the frustrated warriors in the caves.

Kheda watched intently, his poisoned arrow at the ready. Slingstones came raining down from the uppermost level of caves. The vicious hail tore at leaves and twigs, bouncing off branches and tree trunks. The defenders surged out of the lowest entrances, hurling spears at the attackers, who were now hastily retreating back among the trees.

Kheda saw that some of those fleeing for the safety of the caves were wounded, arms and legs pierced by the stone-tipped arrows. Few of the village archers were shooting with overmuch accuracy but with so many arrows in the air, some had inevitably struck unprotected flesh.

Two men dragged a third towards shelter who had a shaft wedged deep in his back. More arrows pursued them despite the best efforts of the slingshots in the heights. One man fell crazed with pain as he ripped an arrow from his thigh. He stared numbly as his life's blood gushed scarlet from the ragged wound and then collapsed to lie limp and still.

As a fresh shower of arrows clattered ineffectively against the rock face, Kheda let his white-fletched arrow fly. The apparent leader of the men behind the barricade had drifted too far from the safety of the thorns. The inadequacies of the makeshift bow meant that Kheda didn't strike the man in the chest as he had hoped. Instead, the stone head penetrated deep in his belly. The cave dweller looked down, face twisted with rage. Then the pain struck him and he gasped. Kheda waited, his heart pounding. The cave dweller fell to his knees, hands hovering around the arrow. Men risked themselves to drag him back behind the thorn barricade. The cave dweller was past caring, his blank eyes staring up at the sky as his companions seized his nerveless hands, his slack legs sliding through the dust.

Village spearmen shouted exultantly from the edge of the trees, running forward, clubs raised in one hand as they flung their spears with the other. The cave dwellers defending the thorn barricade rose up to meet them, throwing their own shafts of fire-hardened wood. The slings in the uppermost caves sent down more lethal stones.

A flash of white feather told Kheda that Risala had seen some incautiously exposed foe and, sure enough, a moment later a corpse plummeted from the heights. He tried to find her along the margin of the forest. A haze of mage-light revealed her standing beside Naldeth and Velindre, the wizardry lurid in the shadows of the trees. A low

growling made the air shudder. As one man, the village spearmen skidded to a halt and scrambled backwards for the illusory shelter of the trees.

The dragon.

Kheda felt a tremor in the ground beneath his feet. Mouth dry, he looked up as stones and dust began to fall from the top of the outcrop. He searched the broken edge for the dragon drawing itself out of the rocks. There was nothing there — or at least no sign of the black dragon's magic. The noise grew louder and men in the heights began to scream as the walls and floors of the caves broke apart beneath their feet. Men and women who had thought themselves safe in the lower levels began to cry out as the disintegration spread, sending cascades of shattered stone falling all around them.

The shards didn't drop to smash on the hard ground or break the limbs and skulls of the hapless defenders beneath. Kheda saw stones as big as his hand floating down like leaves slipping from trees in the dry season. Men and women from the heights were falling, but not to their deaths. Buoyed on clouds of dust with breezes snatching away their despairing cries, they tumbled slowly through the air, arms and legs flailing. They landed, some harder than others, within the thorny barricade where they cowered sobbing or simply lay frozen with fear.

Stones continued to rain down from the crumbling cliff. Piling in drifts like storm-driven leaves, they formed thick mounds blocking the mouths of the lowest caves. Panic-stricken shouts could be heard within, muffled as the walls grew higher.