Here and there, a discarded spear sprang up of its own volition to belabour their unprotected backs.

The cordon of wriggling roots immediately drew tighter around the wild mage. Grit and weapons alike fell to the ground. This time he had to thrust out both hands to hold the squirming tendrils just beyond arm's reach.

The girl fell to the ground, landing hard, a last moan jolted out of her. Two men ran to snatch her up. Flinging her arms over their shoulders, they hauled her away. Cringing as the skull-masked mage screamed his fury, nevertheless they didn't stop and vanished into the night.

The wild wizard snatched a ball of fire from one of the leather-crowned women. As he threw it at the roots hemming them in, the magelight turned from scarlet to cold blue-white. Magic crackled between the roots like lightning, instantly crisping the tendrils to black ash. Shooting outwards, claws of sapphire magelight flashed across the ground to rip away the roots holding his spearmen immobilised. Vicious burns in their tender flesh glistened in the moonlight but few dared cry out.

The unpleasant smell of singed skin and hair caught in Kheda's throat. He fought a desperate urge to cough, gripping his sword in one hand and his hacking blade in the other.

I've never needed a third hand so badly, so I could take light hold of Risala. We'll have to make a run for it and let the wizards make shift for themselves. Let's just hope we can hide in the grasses without being eaten by a lizard.

Risala's fingers tightened on his shoulder. Her face was determined in the pitiless moonlight and he felt the tension quivering in every fibre of her. He braced himself, ready to spring up as he saw the wild mage turning this way and that, all his attention on the ground.

The wild mage's blue-black magic was burning newly emerging roots to carve dark lines in the pale ground. Kheda

watched intently as the ominous blackness converged on one of the giant barrel trees, which burst into purplish flames, the leathery bark spitting and splitting. The wild mage yelled at his warriors, gesturing, and they converged on the burning tree.

One yelped as he skirted a sandy hummock and stumbled. He tried to stand up but the ground betrayed him. The sandy earth flowed away beneath his feet and new fissures opened up elsewhere in the dry expanse. Shouting their alarm, the spearmen dodged and sidestepped. Relentless, the crevices pursued them, gaping ever wider. The wild men were soon struggling in a slough of smothering sand, the solid ground retreating, always a step ahead of their plunging feet, out of reach of their flailing arms. The wild wizard screamed furiously, penned with his cowering women on a shrinking pedestal as the earth around them crumbled.

'Head for the river.' Velindre's dry voice whispered in Kheda's ear.

Slowly, carefully, Kheda retreated, Risala close by his side, their steps matching. Once the bulbous barrel tree was directly between them and the skull-faced mage, Kheda sheathed his sword and grabbed Risala's hand. They ran for the edge of the magic-racked plateau and slid down the scoured slope towards the dubious shelter of the rustling grasses. The tall blades were as vicious as they had been before. Kheda ignored the sting of new slices on his hands and face as he slashed a path through the vegetation, Risala pressed close behind him. He didn't stop until they reached the river.

'What now?' Risala gasped breathlessly.

'Shall we swim for it?' Kheda looked over the lip of the bank down to the mudflats below. A menacing shape broached the water and for an instant the moonlight glistened on rugged scales.

Who knows what could be lurking in the rivers here to pull us down to drown and eat us.

'Follow me.' Naldeth walked stiff-legged out of a haze of crimson that vanished almost as soon as it appeared. He strode towards the central channel where the drought-stricken river still flowed deep. Mud surged up to meet his steps, banishing the water in a flurry of ripples.

Kheda followed, still holding Risala's hand and watching the river with lively suspicion. 'Where's Velindre?'

'Keeping our skull-faced friend busy with a sandstorm.' Naldeth hurried onwards.

Risala looked up into the star-studded night sky. 'What about the blue dragon?'

'There's been no sign of it.' Naldeth swallowed a tremor in his words.

Kheda glanced back over his shoulder to see the river washing away their footprints as the transitory bridge of enchanted sand melted away behind them. Movement caught his eye and he saw a shadowy shape moving in the grasses fringing the river bank. 'Who's that?'

'Not a mage,' Risala said with relief as no spell attacked them.

'Hurry up.' Velindre appeared on the far bank and offered Naldeth her hand. Thrusting his blades through his belt, Kheda hoisted Risala up and then scrambled up the crumbling bank himself.

Naldeth was staring back over the river. 'It's an old woman. She must have run the wrong way in the panic'

'Let's get clear of here before that wizard sends his minions after us.' Kheda turned his attention to Velindre. 'Now that we know where we are, can you carry us back to the ZaiseV

'No wizard with any sense translocates himself or anyone else into a cave,' Velindre said reluctantly. 'Not with the risk of being entombed in solid rock.'

Kheda looked out at the black bulk of the rising land, the trees cutting a mysterious silhouette against the starry sky. 'Then we had better start walking and hope those tree dwellers are fast asleep.'

'And that black dragon.' Risala shot a questioning look at Naldeth.

He was still gazing at the figure on the far bank. 'She's all alone. If those spearmen don't kill her, she's prey for anything else hunting tonight.'

'Those spearmen won't cross the river without their mage, and his dragon for good measure,' Velindre stated with absolute certainty. 'That's the boundary of the blue dragon's territory, which makes it their border as well.'

'Come on.' Kheda gave Naldeth's shoulder a shove.

'In a moment.' The wizard shrugged him off. 'If the wild men won't cross the river, she'll be safer over here.'

He thrust a hand out towards the water and a narrow bridge of glistening mud rose out of the depths.

'You don't think the tree dwellers will just kill her out of hand?' Kheda objected.

'Or those vile birds,' said Risala with feeling.

The young wizard ignored them both, moving to stand clearly visible, beckoning to the hesitating figure on the far bank.

Slowly, the old woman lowered herself down onto the mud and hobbled towards them. She moved awkwardly, hunched over some precious burden, the moonlight silvering her grey hair.

'She can take her chances.' Kheda turned away before she had reached the middle of the river and thought back to the terrain he had seen earlier in this interminable day. 'Let's make for the edge of those twisted trees and hope those birds are roosting deeper in the forest. If we stick to the very edge of the higher ground, we should be able to cut across the bottom end of the tree-dwellers' valley. We'll

go right to the sea and work our way up along the cliffs till we reach the Zaise.'

He hefted his hacking blade at an unnerving rustle deep in the dense grasses. A furred creature appeared, held startled in the moonlight as it crouched on all four limbs. Its snout was reminiscent of a hound's, yet it had long-fingered paws as if it lived in the trees and it was more catlike than dog in its lineaments. Before Kheda could decide what it was, it vanished into the darkness.

Like a loal, yet quite unlike. How many strange creatures live in this place?

Restraining the impulse to slice and force a path through the grass as quickly as possible, Kheda moved slowly and quietly, alert for any huge lizard lurking somnolent in the cool of the night. He could hear the harsh breathing of the others close behind him, and back beyond that some faint splashing from the river. Closing his ears to such distractions, he concentrated on the grassy plain ahead. He didn't let himself relax when they reached the sparse, spindly trees. Straining his eyes for any sign of the lethal birds, he went just far enough up the slope and into the woodland to gain a vantage over the plain and the river and the bank beyond.