He could see that part of the thumb had broken off where it had hit the bottom of the pool and was trapped underneath the rest. Bracing himself against the back wall, he half rolled, half pushed the hand aside to release the thumb, snatching it up and surging back to the surface with it held aloft like a trophy.

'Morning, Ben.' The captain's voice rang out around the temple.

'Good morning, sir,' replied Ben, turning in the water to see Yron silhouetted in the doorway, the canvas covering tied back.

'Glad to see you're putting your duty to good use. I can't imagine anything we'll need more in the days to come than an expert diver.'

Ben-Foran blushed, splashed hurriedly to the side of the pool and hauled himself out to sit dripping at its edge, heart suddenly beating hard.

'Sorry, sir.'

To his surprise and relief, Yron laughed. 'Don't worry, boy,' he said, slapping him hard on the shoulder, the wet crack echoing off the temple walls. 'It's exactly what I would have done.'

Ben got up and pulled on his loincloth, the thumb tight in his hand.

'Still, I see your exploration wasn't entirely wasted,' said Yron, indicating his prize.

'No, sir. I saw it had broken off, you know, and-'

'-thought you'd have yourself a souvenir.'

'Yes, sir.'

Yron tutted and shook his head. He snapped his fingers then held out his hand. 'Well, with one small amendment, it was a sound plan.'

A little reluctantly, Ben handed over the thumb. Yron examined it closely. It was a finely detailed piece, a little over five inches long.

'Now this is a lesson it is my pleasure to teach you,' said Yron, smiling broadly.

'What's that, Captain?' Ben felt the question was expected though he had no desire to ask it.

Yron leaned in a little closer. 'It's something you'll no doubt be able to practise in the future when you have your own command. It's called pulling rank.' He chuckled and slipped the piece into his pocket before spreading his arms wide. 'There you are. Simple, isn't it? Now, get yourself dressed, there's something I want you to see.'

Ben nodded, aware suddenly that he was already dry. He frowned and paused for a moment. It was definitely hotter in here than it had been yesterday afternoon. Odd. He shrugged and pulled on his trousers. As leader of the task force, he knew it had to be him. Sytkan took the longest walk of his life up the gentle slopes of Herendeneth towards the needle. He walked alone as a show of peaceful intent but the only solace he could really take as he walked was that he could hope they thought he was here to help.

They watched him as he picked his way up around the graves of the ancients, their heads unmoving, eyes not blinking. Sytkan was acutely aware of his frailty, of the ease with which either of these incredible creatures could snuff out his life.

He'd had no real idea of their size, their sheer domination of the space around them, until he got closer. And there they lay, like two huge golden sculptures. They were each a hundred feet and more long from nose to tail, the mounds of their bodies higher than his house and their stupendous wings folded back along their glittering scaled flanks.

Sytkan was less than thirty feet from them, his steps tentative and nervous, his nose full of their sharp wood and oil odour, when they moved. Heads as tall as he was swept out on long graceful necks and arrowed down on his insignificance. It was all he could do to stay standing.

'Um…' he began, and all his planned words fell from his memory. His eyes fixed on the upper fangs of the larger dragon as it opened its mouth. Dear Gods burning, those teeth.

'I am Sha-Kaan, Great Kaan of my Brood. Nos-Kaan rests by me. And I understand from my Dragonene and friend, Hirad Coldheart, that you are Sytkan, mage of Xetesk. You and yours are here to find us a way home from this disagreeable dimension.'

'I… Yes,' said Sytkan. 'I… That is, at least partially. And that's why I – we – may need to ask you some questions. Is… um, will that be acceptable?'

The great dragon laughed. The breath blew Sytkan from his feet, the sound pounded around his skull and reverberated through ground and air.

'It is expected,' said Sha-Kaan. 'How else will you understand when you find Beshara?'

Sytkan got slowly to his feet and dusted himself down. 'Beshara?' he ventured.

'Our home,' said Sha-Kaan.

'Sorry, of course,' said Sytkan, never having heard the word before. His gaze locked on to Sha-Kaan's, he saw deep into those bottomless eyes and the power they contained and his composure deserted him. 'Well, I er, I came up here to introduce myself. I'm the leader of the Xeteskians and I assure you of our good intent as to wanting to work with you in the best way possible and is there a good or better or worse – if you see what I mean – time to talk to you?'

Sytkan gasped in a breath. Sha-Kaan regarded him for a long moment, the huge slitted black pupil narrowing very slightly. His eyes blinked slowly and he stretched his mouth. The mage fought the urge to turn and run.

'Well met,' said Sha-Kaan without hint of warmth. 'Ask us what you will, when you will, though I suggest when we are landed is your best time.' Sha-Kaan laughed at his own lame joke. 'Now go, unless there is anything more?'

'No. No, no,' said Sytkan, relief flooding through him. 'Thank you.'

He turned but had taken only one pace before he found himself staring at Sha-Kaan again, the dragon's long neck curving away out of sight behind him.

'Tell me, Sytkan,' rumbled Sha-Kaan. 'There are but two Al-Drechar and two Kaan dragons on this island. Yet to research and gather information you have brought with you thirty mages and a hundred Protectors. Perhaps you would like to explain.'

Sytkan felt cold all around his heart. 'Well, there are many disciplines represented,' he blustered. 'Many strands to the research. The Protectors are merely-'

Sha-Kaan snorted derisively, dumping Sytkan on his backside again. 'Do not presume to insult my intelligence.' His head shot forwards, his muzzle stopping inches from Sytkan's face. All the mage could see were scales, teeth and ire. 'My flame ducts may be dry but these -' he snapped his jaws meaningfully '- are in perfect working order. I will be watching you. All of you. Do not give me cause to become disappointed.' Selik wanted to laugh out loud. Even though he'd ridden hard from Erskan and they'd stopped well after nightfall for only a few snatched hours of rest before setting off again at daylight, he hadn't expected to sight his quarries until the following day at least. Yet there they were, no more than a couple of miles ahead on the trail, the dust of their passage clouding into the warm late morning.

They were heading north on the principal trail that led to the ruined town of Denebre and then on into the mage lands. A fertile part of Balaia, the landscape here, like so much of the country, had been ruined. Trees lay snapped or uprooted, farms were abandoned and fields lay unplanted or with the remnants of rotted crops still in the soil. It was a gently rolling vista, with shallow slopes and vales criss-crossed with a lattice of streams and rivers. To the west, the Blackthorne Mountains made up the entire horizon, their gaunt majesty punctuated only by the eastern face of the Varhawk Crags, scene of one of the most famous victories of the last Wesmen wars.

But Selik wasn't concerned with the scene around him right now. He and his men had reined in at the top of a rise and were looking down onto a grassland plain. In the middle of it, a single covered wagon drove slowly on, the reason for the mages' slow progress obvious. Despite Erskan's assertion that he numbered mages among his friends, he hadn't been over-kind to these, however many there were. The carriage was being dragged by a single, fairly small horse.