The travellers’ formation was altered from the day before. While Jatha and his people still led the way, The Raven mages had fallen back to keep talking with Styliann, leaving the Protectors to guard the rear, and Hirad, The Unknown and Thraun looking after the flanks. Thraun looked no better. Locked in his own world of misery and self-guilt over Will’s death, he functioned and would no doubt fight but that was about all. He ate what was put in front of him, slept and watched when asked and responded to questions about terrain and tracking. Otherwise, he had completely withdrawn.

Midway through the morning, the land, previously flat and level, began to rise. Gently at first but then more steeply, and though the rises and falls were never more than twenty feet, they sapped the strength. The plains grass grew as before, its density undiminished, but now even Jatha, who forced the pace hard, flattened and broke stalks in his hurried passage.

Hirad watched him for a little, noticing the way he glanced up continually towards the rip while his men, frowns on their faces, scoured the land either side.

‘Ever get the feeling all is not well?’ asked Hirad, finding himself shoulder to shoulder with The Unknown.

‘Very much so,’ said The Unknown. ‘We should consider the possibility of attack.’ He tapped the as yet sheathed sword in his back-mounted scabbard.

‘Let me have a word with Jatha.’ Hirad moved forwards and tapped Jatha’s shoulder. The Kaan servant looked around and forced a smile though his eyes betrayed his worry.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Hirad. Jatha looked blank. ‘Danger?’ Hirad pointed to the sky and gestured around him before flapping his arms as Jatha had done to indicate a dragon.

Jatha nodded vigorously. ‘Sky battle coming,’ he said. ‘Careful.’ He pointed to his eyes and then to the area immediately surrounding them. ‘More battle.’ He shrugged. Hirad nodded.

‘All right Raven,’ he said, dropping back. ‘We might be getting company from the sky and the ground. Let’s get prepared. Thraun, Unknown, left and right flanking positions, Ilkar the shield, Denser and Erienne, offence, please.’ Up ahead, two pairs of Jatha’s men left the main group, disappearing into the grass to either side, swords drawn. Jatha himself continued onwards, upping the pace still further until he was almost at a trot. Hirad looked back briefly towards Styliann. ‘I presume I can leave it to you and yours to organise our rear defence?’

Styliann nodded. ‘Nothing will get through from behind,’ he said curtly.

Up in the sky, the defence of the rip had strengthened. Hirad estimated seventy Kaan dragons now flew, their patterns close, their calls echoing down over the plain. It was a haunting sound that set him on edge. The brackish barks and muted growls were alien in his ears and he shifted his shoulders as the back of his neck tingled. Involuntarily, he looked behind him and it was then that he saw the shapes.

At first they were a group of black dots, high in the sky, coming from beyond the forest valley they had travelled through the day before. But as they drew closer, he saw their shapes, long slim and fast. They numbered in excess of twenty and they flew in a single chevron, heading directly for the rip. The calls of the Kaan became more urgent and the defending dragons, half of them at least, switched from set patterns into attack groups of five or six, moving out to meet the enemy.

It was Jatha’s voice that made him realise that they had all stopped to look.

‘Go,’ he was saying. ‘Careful.’ He made to move off but a change in the movement in the sky caught his eye. Hirad followed his gaze to the attacking dragons. One had cut away from the main group and was angling downwards across the plain and coming straight for them.

‘Raven, put up your swords and forget the spells. We’re going to have to run. Protectors, likewise, believe me or die.’ He pointed up to the shape barrelling towards them. It would be on them in no time.

‘Hirad!’ Jatha was tugging at his arm, his voice distressed, his men agitated behind him. Hirad looked down to him. The little man spread the fingers of his hands wide then moved his arms apart. ‘Go,’ he said, repeating the gesture. He shouted an order to his men who instantly scattered away into the grass, no two in the same direction.

Hirad got the idea. ‘Raven!’ he shouted. ‘Line abreast, three yard spacing. Raven with me!’ Not waiting to see if Styliann was with them, Hirad ploughed off through the grass, sensing The Unknown and Ilkar flanking him. Glancing left and right, he could just about see them but couldn’t make out the rest as they stumbled and fought their way through the tall thick grass that impeded their every step.

They were running blind and it was all a game of chance. As he thrashed through the pliable stems, he imagined the dragon rushing down, laughing at the pitiable attempts to escape it could see as it chose its first victims. None of them had a chance. It could wield its fire at will and soon they would all be so much ash floating up into the sky.

He felt anger that Sha-Kaan could leave them so unprotected and he called the Great Dragon’s name in his mind, demanding assistance, pleading for rescue. Stumbling and almost falling, he choked back a cry, a stark realisation thumping through his skull. This was his nightmare made real. In Taranspike Castle he had dreamed that he was running on cracked earth and going nowhere but the result would be the same. He would be caught and the skin would be burned from his bones as he stood helpless.

A wave of heat washed across the plain from away to his right accompanied by red light as flame scoured into the grass. No one screamed but then they wouldn’t have had the time. Hirad prayed it wasn’t Jatha and increased his pace. Crackling noises filled the air and a dense smoke flooded into the sky as the dry grass was enveloped by fire. Through a swirl in the smoke the dragon, something like seventy feet long and no more than forty yards away, peeled back into the sky to prepare for another run, its sleek blue body slipping easily through the air, its wings beating in graceful time. Its shadow was black on the ground, those huge wings snapping like sails as they dug at the air, pushing it aside with great sweeps, the noise like wind howling around buildings. With cold certainty, Hirad knew it was coming for them next time.

He plunged on, shoulders hunched and arms up and protecting his face. No more than a dozen paces ahead, the ground fell away. It was their only chance.

‘Raven!’ he roared over the noise of the fire, the shouts of other men and the calls of a hundred dragons. ‘Slope dead ahead. Let’s get down it. Stay low!’ He could sense the dragon wheeling behind them. He ran on, took his last pace at a half dive and plunged to roll down the slope, turning over and over, grass, earth and loose stones filling his sight as he went.

It was a steeper slope than he had anticipated and he struggled to control his speed. A great scorch of flame lashed overhead, incinerating the grass at the top of the slope and sparking another fire that raged and consumed the vegetation all around. Heat washed down the slope, the shadow of the dragon passed over him, he splayed out his limbs to slow himself, hit the bottom of the slope and came to a sudden halt against The Unknown, dust filling the air and a run of dirt and broken stems sliding behind him.

The two men helped each other to their feet. Ilkar lay a few yards away, shaking his head as he dragged himself to a sitting position, dust clouding around him, smoke fogging the air above. An acrid, burning smell filtered down and the noise of the dragon-induced fire was close.

‘Raven!’ called Hirad. ‘Sound off if you can hear me. Be moving this way.’

Denser and Erienne both called that they were all right. Thraun appeared at Hirad’s side, nodding curtly.