Indesi had been right; this was no ordinary FlameOrb construct. There was too much heat, too much energy. It consumed everything in its path, scoured the ground clean as would the fires of hell.

And as the heat lashed the moisture from his body Senese's last view was of the Xeteskians, standing and waiting, their fire breaking over their mana shields which glowed blue and dissipated its power.

'What have you done?' he rasped.

The flame wall rolled over him like an angry sea.

It was night. Yron was standing alone in the centre of the stone apron outside the ring of guard fires. Behind him, his men either stood nervous guard or tried to rest as best they could in the increasing humidity and heat that had penetrated the temple in the last few days. Presumably, the atmosphere had been spoiled by the removal of the doors but Yron thought there was probably more to it than that. It was like the ambience in the rainforest; he couldn't put his finger on it but he knew all was not well.

He had come beyond the guard fires to listen and to think. Out in the forest the sounds of the night echoed around him; the growl of big cats, the calls of monkeys and birds under threat, the buzzing of an insect swarm under the canopy, awoken from rest. A spider scuttled across the apron right by his feet. The size of his hand, he watched it go, pursuing some prey he couldn't see, perhaps one of the myriad frogs croaking all around him, or the cicadas rasping as they tried to attract mates.

Yron felt uncertain and that was a condition with which he was unfamiliar. The runner he'd sent to the base camp earlier today hadn't returned and that worried him. He knew he should have sent two men but Pavol was very fit and wanted to see whether he could run all the way. Yron was a man to encourage endeavour and had loaded him with water skins and sent him at dawn.

Now he needed him back with news. There was danger coming and he was anxious about the sick in the camp. He needed to start moving back to the coast where his ships lay at anchor, and he was not about to leave anyone behind.

Erys finding the vital writings earlier that evening was good news in the extreme and Yron's first squad was ready to go before first light the next day. He had outlined for them a different route based on his incomplete charts of the forest. It would take them up to six days to reach the ships, assuming they stayed healthy. They were a quartet in which Ben-Foran had faith and that was enough for him, yet he still felt nervous for them. The rainforest was a danger to all of them but more so now. Their invasion could not go unnoticed for long and inevitably the elves would seek revenge.

The elven guard at the temple had surprised him with their ferocity but there was much worse out there and it was those elves he feared and those elves that he was sure were coming. He knew his men didn't understand why he was splitting his force. They had been taught there was strength in numbers, but in the depths of the rainforest it didn't always hold true. Small squads of men, quiet and careful men, would have more chance of survival out there.

Yron blew out his cheeks and swatted at a fly that buzzed around his head. How long before the enemy got here? Should he call up the reserve from the ships to cover his retreat? How long could he give Erys and Stenys to research? Should he cut his losses now? After all they had the main prize, if Erys was right, and all but those papers were leaving for the ships tomorrow. Erys would take the most valuable material himself.

Looking up into the heavens, Yron could see it was clouding over again. Thunder rumbled distantly. Another downpour was on its way. He turned to go back to the watch fires but a crashing in the forest stopped him. He spun round, cocking an ear. Whatever it was was blundering wildly. Probably a wounded animal. Whatever it was was coming straight towards them. He backed up and drew his axe, listening to the snap of branches and the calls of distress that set off the howler monkeys and the wild shrieks of birds in their nests.

He reached the ring of fires.

'Crossbowmen ready. If it's injured, we need to take it down. It'll attack anything that gets in its way and that includes us.'

A heartbeat later and those cries of distress resolved themselves into something that set his heart racing.

'Stand down!' he ordered.

He was already hurrying towards the path when the figure stumbled out of the forest, ran a few unsteady steps across the paving, slipped and sprawled on its damp surface.

'Erys!' Yron shouted, running to the fallen figure. 'Get out here now. Bring me some light. Move!'

He slithered to a halt by the man, who was heaving in great ragged breaths, coughing and shivering the length of his body. He knelt and put a hand on the man's shoulder.

'Calm down, Pavol. You're safe now,' he said.

Pavol tried to push himself up on his hands, his head shaking violently.

'No,' he managed through a clotted throat. 'No.'

'Shhh,' said Yron. 'You're scared and hurt. Take your time. Come on, let me help you over.'

Using his knees as a pivot, Yron turned the young man over so his head lay in the officer's lap. One of his men brought over a lantern and the two of them gasped.

Pavol's face was shredded. The left side had been clawed away, taking his eye with it. Bite marks covered his neck, the punctures oozing blood, and there was a flap of skin hanging from a deep gash in his forehead that had poured blood over his face. His clothes were ripped and torn in a dozen places, his right hand was mangled and broken and across his stomach more claws had gouged their paths.

'Erys!' yelled Yron. 'Where is that bloody mage?'

'Here.' Erys ran up with Ben-Foran.

'Get to work. See what you can do, then we'll get him inside,' said Yron. 'Ben, remember those leaves I showed you earlier? Not the snakebite ones, the others. Take one man and a lantern and collect as many as you can. Get them in a pot and boil them. Make a drink but don't throw away the paste you have left behind. All right?'

'Yes, Captain.' Calling a man to him, Ben-Foran hurried away.

'Erys?' asked Yron.

The mage shook his head. 'It's bad, Captain. He's lost a great deal of blood and he'll be infected from all these gashes and cuts. There's nothing I can do about the eye but we should wrap him up. He's in shock. I'll put him to sleep.'

'N-n-no,' stammered Pavol. 'Let me sp-speak.'

'Later,' said Yron, smoothing back his blood-matted hair. 'You have to rest now.'

Pavol reached round and gripped Yron's arm fiercely, his single eye boring into his captain's face.

'They killed all of them,' he said, each word dragging from his mouth. 'The camp. All dead.'

Yron tensed and put a hand out to stop Erys casting.

'Wait,' he said. 'Pavol, carefully now, tell me what you saw.'

'Something,' said Pavol, and he coughed blood which sprayed on to Yron's face, 'moved so quickly. I should have helped. But I just watched.'

'What were they? What did they do?' urged Yron. 'Animals?'

'No. Elves. Just one or two. I just watched them all die.' The young man's eye filled with tears and he blinked furiously. An ooze of gore slipped from his ruined orb. 'Then I crept away and ran like a coward.'

Yron's heart was thumping in his chest. What he feared most was about to come to pass.

'You're not a coward,' he said. 'You did exactly the right thing. There was nothing you could have done for our people. But you might just have saved all our lives.' He looked down at Pavol's torn body. 'What did this? Jaguar?'

'Panther,' he rasped. 'Big. Black. Stalked me for hours.'

'A panther? But there are no…' Yron's voiced trailed away.