Septern considered Sha-Kaan’s words, realising he actually had very little choice, having already given Sha-Kaan not only the signature of the Balaian dimension, but his own personal mark too.

‘Why does being here help you recover? Presumably it’s better than resting in your Broodlands.’

‘Yes,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘I would describe it like this. At either end of the chambers is a dimension of coalesced energy. Within each dimension, the energy is still random in its direction. But the open corridor forces a flow of energy in one direction only. It is this flow in which we bask that so speeds our healing process. We call them Klenes.’

Septern caught his breath. The dragon was talking about harnessing dimensional flow. It was a technique he had only dreamed about understanding. There was one thing, though.

‘But surely these flows are visible to any dragon blind-flying in interdimensional space? Surely they could follow the flows to your Melde Hall or to Balaia?’

‘The chances are so small, I can’t calculate them,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Not only do we shield the corridors as we do your dimension, but flying in interdimensional space is like walking in impenetrable fog for you. Sanctuary could be within arms’ reach and you would walk by none the wiser.’

‘Unless you walked right into it.’ Septern scratched his head. ‘See my point?’

‘Yes. But the difference is that an effectively-shielded signature is, to all intents and purposes, not there at all. A dragon without the signature would fly through the same point in interdimensional space without touching what he was seeking.’ Sha-Kaan snaked his neck down, giving him eye-to-eye contact with Septern. ‘Now,’ he said. ‘Will you agree to be my Dragonene?’

Septern nodded. ‘It would be an honour. One more question, though. You talked about it being important to protect the fabric of melde-dimensions. What did you mean?’

Sha-Kaan’s exhalation played over Septern’s face. Feelings of warmth and joy filled his mind.

‘Mage and Kaan shall grow together,’ he said softly. ‘Now to your question, using your dimension as example. Balaia, of course, is just one continent in your world but the concentration of magic has lent it great structural importance. Our melde, based upon the links with the Dragonene that you will nominate and show to us through me, will rely on many places remaining intact. Your lake, the centre of your magic, is one. The centres of the ancient towers of magic in your Cities are others. The assembly of rock and stone close to your largest city, the range you call Taranspike, is yet another. And so will your house be one. Dragons could destroy it all. We must protect it from them and from powers within yourselves that could cast down mountains.’ Sha-Kaan angled his head quizzically, like a dog. Septern almost laughed at the absurdity of the comparison. ‘You are anxious.’

It must have been written all over my face, thought Septern. But the solution to his problem was sitting right in front of him. He’d like to see the man that could take the amulet from Sha-Kaan.

‘It’s part of the reason I was with the Avians,’ he explained. ‘I’ve created something I cannot destroy but that I don’t wish to see fall into the wrong hands in Balaia. I wanted to hide it through a dimension gate, but I got curious and that’s why I met you. The Avians have one part of the secret, maybe you should have the rest.’

‘What is it?’ asked Sha-Kaan.

‘It could remove all those fabrics you spoke of. This—’ he took an engraved amulet on a chain from around his neck, ‘—is the first part of the puzzle to unlocking it. It’s a spell. It’s very powerful indeed. I call it Dawnthief.’

Chapter 10

The next night, the Parve company split three ways. Following an evening meal and the promised Communion, Styliann and Ilkar conducted a brief conversation before the former Lord of the Mount readied his horse and Protectors. The news of his usurpation at Xetesk had struck to the core of his confidence.

Glancing back at him during the day’s ride through unremitting slope and summit, valley and river, Ilkar noticed that the set had gone from his shoulders and the gleam from his eyes. They had been replaced by something altogether more sinister - a hooded, brooding fury that darkened his features, tightened his lips and corded tension through his neck.

He wouldn’t say where he was going, just that he had to reach friendly contact as soon as possible. That his route took him south to the Bay of Gyernath, the same route as Darrick would pursue the following morning, was clearly of no consequence. The Protectors, he said, had little need of rest and Darrick’s cavalry would only slow him down.

But as he rode off, the Protectors running in a protective diamond around him, he left unrest behind. The Raven, who were planning to leave during the early hours to put them on the trail north of Terenetsa before sunlight, reducing the chances of being sighted, sat with Darrick. The General was not enamoured at the prospect of following in the tracks of Styliann.

‘If he blunders into any trouble, it’ll be ten times worse for us but we won’t know it until we hit it.’

‘Take a different route.’ Denser shrugged.

‘Yes, because there must be hundreds to choose from.’ Thraun smiled.

Darrick nodded, picking up the line. ‘Well, yes. It was a coincidence we chose the same one out of all those many options.’

A snigger went around the campfire.

‘I was just making the most obvious suggestion of a solution,’ muttered Denser.

‘You should probably just stick to magic, Denser,’ said Thraun, his smile cracking his heavy features.

‘What the hell for? Dawnthief doesn’t seem to have done us any lasting good, does it?’ Denser’s face was angry. Darrick chose to ignore him.

‘Look, it’s possible to reach the Bay of Gyernath by a number of routes but all except one involve risk to horse and rider.’ Darrick rubbed his hands together and warmed them over the fire though it wasn’t particularly cold. ‘And the trouble with the best route is the half dozen villages that need avoiding. If Styliann chooses destruction not detour, I could face real difficulties reaching the Bay in his wake.’

‘So come with us,’ said Hirad.

Darrick shook his head. ‘No, I’ll not risk your mission. Anyway, I’ll make it. I always do.’ He chuckled.

‘Gods, you sound like Hirad,’ said Ilkar. His mood, though still sombre, had been lightened by Styliann’s confirmation that the College of Julatsa had not fallen. Why not was a matter of some conjecture, but the College, temporarily at least, still stood.

‘How long to the Bay from here?’ asked Hirad. Darrick shrugged.

‘Well, the way gets easier south of Terenetsa, for a couple of days anyway. I should think that, barring interruptions, we’ll be causing trouble to the Wesmen in about ten days’ time.’ He smoothed his hair back from where it was blowing into his face.

‘We shall be in or near Julatsa by then,’ said The Unknown.

‘What’s left of it,’ said Ilkar.

‘Can’t you commune with your people there?’ asked Darrick.

‘No, I’m afraid I never studied the spell. It doesn’t have too many uses for a mercenary mage,’ replied Ilkar. ‘And even if I could, Styliann, who is a far better exponent, hasn’t raised a contact inside the College. His information came from a mage hiding outside the city.’

‘So how are we so sure the College is all right?’ asked Will.

‘Because the Tower is still standing and there are no sounds of battle.’

Darrick frowned, his brow knotting under his curly light brown hair.

‘I can’t believe they’d just stop at the College walls,’ he said.

‘They’re scared of magic,’ said Ilkar. ‘And they’ve lost the Wytch Lords’ influence. Arriving at the walls of a magic College is going to be a time of real fear for them because they only have rumours of the power housed inside. Besides which, I suspect the Council has bluffed an impasse. How long it will last is open to question.’