Текст книги "The Spell of Undoing"

Автор книги: Paul Collins

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 8 страниц)

SHIPWRECKED

By now Amelia was white-faced and shaking from trying to keep them in the air. The boat continued to lose height in an alarming fashion.

Tab didn't think Amelia could hold out for much longer. Fontagu's extra weight didn't help either. A sudden thought smote her. Had Torby known that his added weight would have doomed them?

She looked over the side. Quentaris was appreciably closer, but still a long way down. Then, clutching the gunwale, she peered back at Tolrush, hoping beyond hope to see Torby. She gasped loudly. Tolrush had vanished!

Philmon looked over her shoulder and nodded. ‘It's cloaked, like we said. That's why Quentaris isn't piling on the canvas and getting out of here.’

Tab's chest hurt. If Tolrush was still there, then hopefully Torby was too, but it felt as if a piece of her heart had disappeared.

Behind her, Philmon said, ‘Hey, look at that!’

Though there were few clouds about, lightning struck suddenly across the broiling grey sky. Thunder rumbled. As they watched, a fog appeared from nowhere and began to envelop Quentaris.

They were now almost over the city and as they drifted in amongst the swathes of canvas, masts and rigging, the fog thickened. Suddenly, Amelia cried out. At the same moment she lost control of the boat, which began to spin, dropping faster and faster. Everyone grabbed the gunwale and held on for dear life.

‘We're going to die!’ wailed Fontagu, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. The boat lurched, nearly spilling them into the air.

Everyone screamed.

‘Hold on!’ shouted Tab.

The boat bucked frenziedly, as if it were trying to shake them out of it. It whizzed amongst the rigging and whirled around the First Mast six times until everyone on board was dizzy.

The boat banked sharply, dropped still lower, and accelerated towards the mainmast. ‘We're going to crash!’ yelled Philmon. ‘Hard over, Amelia!’

‘The rigging!’ cried Tab. ‘We've got to jump!’

The boat zoomed towards a tangled spider's web of rope work. ‘Not yet!’ yelled Tab. She forced Fontagu unsteadily to his feet. The others were already poised to leap. As the boat soared past the rigging, Tab half leapt and half fell out of the boat. From the corner of her eye she saw Philmon and Amelia make it safely but Fontagu had waited too long. By the time he jumped the boat was nearly past the last cord and he had barely managed to grab hold of it.

‘Help me!’ he shrieked, hanging by one hand as he dangled six hundred feet above the deck, as the ground level was called. Tab scrambled across the rigging, mindful she didn't plunge through one of the large gaps. She managed to reach him just as his grip started to slip.

She grabbed his wrist and hung on, her injured hand burning. Behind her, the boat crashed into the mainmast in a shower of splinters.

Then Amelia and Philmon were beside her and between them they yanked Fontagu onto the rigging where he sat, pale and gasping, not daring to look down.

‘Now what?’ Amelia gasped. She didn't look any happier than Fontagu.

‘Just follow me,’ said Philmon. ‘This is my territory.’

He led them, slowly and carefully, up the rigging that was like a big sloping ladder made of rope, to a cross-spar. The spar, which held the great billowing sail in place, was almost as wide as a lane and led straight to the mainmast. From there they could make their way down to the deck.

Tab was pondering on what had happened to Torby, and how it might have felt to have had a little brother in her life, when the next mishap happened.

Reaching the more or less solid ground again seemed to have gone to Fontagu's head. And if the truth were known, he very much wanted everyone to forget just how scared he had been moments before. ‘Now wasn't that fun?’ he said, in a loud and jovial voice. ‘We should do it again some time.’

Philmon grunted. Amelia, however, jumped forward and yelled, ‘Boo!’

Fontagu screamed and leapt backwards – towards the edge of the spar.

‘Fontagu!’ yelled Tab. But it was too late. He had stepped too far and was teetering on the very edge, his arms windmilling as he tried to save himself. ‘Nooo… ’ he cried.

Tab lunged forward just as he started to tilt backwards, grabbed his outflung arm and tugged with all her might. It was just enough to tip the balance. Fontagu staggered forward, groaning with relief. For better purchase, he gripped Tab's tunic and pulled hard, but in doing so, Tab suddenly found herself stumbling towards the edge.

‘No!’ she cried out, plunging headfirst off the cross-spar.

As Tab fell, she heard the others scream, then the air was whistling past her ears and she was dropping… Below her was a great sail, straining against the wind. She was falling towards it.

Moments before she hit, she yanked the dagger from her belt, then ooomph! – she struck the canvas, which collapsed a little beneath her. Then, winded, she began to slide over the bulge of the sail. She twisted round and plunged her knife into the thick sheeting.

Her sliding fall slowed, but not for long. As soon as she hit the outermost bulge of the sail she would be flung out into empty space toward the mizzenmast… unless the dagger helped her cling to the canvas!

Which was exactly what happened.

She continued to slide. Her dagger slicing into the canvas, she followed the curve of the sail. But this was only a brief reprieve.

Below her, the sail came to a sudden lethal end. And then she saw something, and her heart leapt. It was a knotted double rope with foot and arm loops, the kind used by canvassers. It was the job of these men and women to deploy the canvas and also repair it, a task which often had to be done while Quentaris was under sail.

The sling-rope dangled the length of the sail some twenty feet to Tab's right. If she could somehow angle the dagger so that she veered that way as she fell, she might just be able to reach it before running out of sail.

Clutching the dagger with both hands Tab turned the blade to the right. Immediately the new direction of the ‘cut’ caused her to move towards the sling-rope. Looking down, she moaned in fear.

If only she had spotted the sling-rope when she had been higher up, she might have made it… Arms and legs burning from the friction with the canvas, she turned the knife blade further. She skewed too far to the right. The knife buckled and caught. Clutching it tightly she angled it downward again.

She had twenty feet of canvas left, then a fall of some two hundred feet. She looked across at the sling-rope – so near and yet too far…

Except… somehow… she was moving towards the sling-rope.

No, she wasn't. It was moving towards her!

Amelia! She must be levitating it.

Tab reached out and just as the sail ran out and she dropped, her good hand closed tightly on the knotted rope.

Three distant voices cheered from the rigging.

Tab's legs were shaking when she climbed down to the deck to join the others.

‘That was amazing,’ said Philmon.

Fontagu bit his lip, looking thoroughly abashed. ‘I thought you were going to… That you would… That you couldn't possibly -’ He grinned lamely.

‘I'm so sorry!’ Amelia gushed. ‘If I hadn't been so childish -’

Tab said, ‘I would have died just then if you hadn't levitated that rope, Amelia.’

Amelia stared at her. ‘What rope?’

‘The sling-rope – you made it slide towards me so I could grab it.’

Amelia shook her head. ‘It wasn't me. I couldn't even see you.’

Tab appeared stunned. ‘Then who?’

Suddenly Philmon's eyes widened. He was gazing over Tab's shoulder at something behind her. The hairs on the back of Tab's neck stood up.

She whirled, visions of Tolrushian assassins in her mind. But what she saw made her gasp. ‘Torby!’

The beaten and battered boy was standing not twenty feet from her. She hurled herself at him and threw her arms about his shoulders, hugging him tightly. He grinned guardedly.

‘However did you -?’ Tab began. She had a million questions and they all came bursting out of her. The others crowded round.

Finally Amelia called for quiet. ‘Torby,’ she said. ‘How did you get here?’

Torby glanced fearfully back to where Tolrush might be lurking.

‘Not exactly the talkative type, is he?’ said Philmon. Amelia hushed him.

‘Did you fly somehow?’ asked Tab.

Torby looked pensive, as though pondering the question. Then in a very small voice, he said, ‘I sewed.’

Tab frowned and looked to the others. ‘Sowed? Sewed? What does he mean?’ ‘There!’ said Torby.

They all glanced up. Fontagu wailed. Overhead, Tolrush – now visible – looked as if it was dropping down on top of them. Bells tolled, and people ran from their houses and swarmed the decks. The rigging came alive with sailors.

Chunks of rock, which were always falling from the sides of the floating cities, crashed down onto Quentaris. Some landed in the harbour, sending up great spouts of water.

‘We're done for!’ cried Fontagu. He hurriedly reached into his pocket and thrust the icefire gem into Tab's hands. ‘For safekeeping,’ he explained. ‘In case anything happens to me.’

Tab hesitantly pocketed the gem, wondering at Fontagu's sudden thoughtfulness.

‘This is very bad,’ said Amelia. ‘It will take time to get up to speed… ’

‘Can I help?’ said Torby. Everyone turned and looked at him. Fontagu snorted and even Philmon shook his head.

But Tab had an odd feeling. ‘Yes… yes, help us, Torby.’

Amelia and Philmon exchanged looks.

‘I know what you're thinking,’ Torby said quietly. ‘I was drained beneath the ground, but now I'm free. It will take time for me to build… ’ He stopped, as though guilty of something. With some exertion he then raised his arms and wiggled his fingers. A light wind picked up about him.

Philmon said, ‘I'd better report to my battle station. They're going to need all hands before -’ He stopped suddenly.

‘Now will you look at that?’ he said, frowning in wonderment. High above them, Tolrush was in difficulty. A fierce nor’-nor’-easterly wind had sprung up from nowhere and was pushing her rapidly away from Quentaris. At the same time a sou’-westerly wind was filling Quentaris’ sails and the fog was thickening. Within moments, Tolrush had veered off and was dwindling astern. Then the fog closed in and obscured most of the enemy city.

Everyone turned and stared at the wind-swept Torby who slowly lowered his arms. He looked for a moment as though he had borne the brunt of the inclement weather.

‘I don't believe it,’ said Amelia.

‘He's some kind of magical genius,’ said Philmon.

Tab said, ‘You're not wrong.’ Suddenly Torby went cross-eyed and reeled. She caught him just as he was collapsing. ‘Help me!’ she cried.

Amelia and Philmon rushed to her aid. Standing well back Fontagu looked up at the beleaguered Tolrush, then at the full blown Quentaran sails. Then he looked down at Torby, a calculating look on his face.

Tab let the curtain drop and sighed. Torby was sleeping soundly, after a night of sudden fever and chills. The two of them were back in Tab's old lodging house.

She joined Philmon and Amelia in the sitting room. All three had long, gloomy faces.

And they weren't the only ones. Everyone had gone crazy lately. It wasn't surprising. A week of fog and rain, no sun, no fresh air, and the constant threat of attack from Tolrush were enough to drive anyone to desperation. To make matters worse, Tab had been hauled before the Grand Council and chastised. Even the return of the icefire – and enough energy to power Quentaris for a year – did not make up for her theft of the gem in the first place or her subsequent hiding of it. It had taken all of Verris’ authority to keep her from being thrown in the brig, and even so she was under a kind of house arrest. She had also had to fudge the truth to keep Fontagu's name out of the proceedings. She hated to think what would happen if the magicians verified what they had suspected from the beginning: that their gem had been used to ignite the Spell of Undoing.

And if all that wasn't bad enough, she was blamed – along with Amelia and Philmon – for bringing the wrath of Tolrush down upon them. Luckily, it was quietly bandied about that Tab had somehow concocted the fog and the strange wind that were keeping them out of Tolrush's claws.

‘I still can't believe that we brought the icefire back home yet we're still the villains in all of this,’ said Philmon gloomily one evening. He had suffered the least of the three. Captain Bellgard did not share the magicians’ feeling that the youths had behaved badly. Amelia, however, had been severely reprimanded, while Tab had been expelled from the Magicians’ Guild altogether.

‘I went to the market today,’ said Tab, ‘and a merchant spat at me.’

Amelia nodded. ‘This is all Florian's doing. He's been spreading evil rumours ever since you disappeared. What's he got against you, anyway?’

Tab sat on her bed and rested her chin on her hands. ‘He hates me.’ She didn't mention how she had dumped a basket of fish guts on his head, and in public. ‘And he's too powerful to expose for the traitor he is without real evidence. Even with proof the Archon would hush it all up and Florian's accusers would “disappear”. I'm so sorry I got you into all this,’ she added, miserably.

‘We got ourselves into it,’ said Philmon. ‘And anyway, I don't see how Quentaris’ plight is our fault.’

‘Hey, something's happening,’ said Amelia.

Tab joined her at the window. Outside, pale towers and buildings loomed out of the fog.

‘I don't see anything,’ said Tab.

‘But you can see something, right?’

‘Oh.’ Amelia was right. For the past week Tab hadn't been able to see the house across the street. Now, however, she could even see the Pandro's Tower which was a good three blocks away. ‘The fog's breaking up,’ she said.

All eyes went to the curtained alcove where the bandaged Torby tossed and turned in the grip of fever. The children exchanged dark looks. By mutual agreement, Torby's abilities – if that was what they were – had been kept from the Council. Tab had had to convince Fontagu, but under threat of being named as the man who had caused the Rupture, he had agreed to keep quiet.

At that moment, a jolt rippled through Quentaris.

‘They've furled the main sail, and we're coming hard about,’ Philmon said. ‘You know what, I think they've found a vortex.’

‘We're leaving this world?’ Tab exclaimed.

Philmon nodded. ‘We've been tracking the vortex for days, but it keeps shifting.’

Outside, there was a sudden flood of sunlight. Tab's spirits lifted instantly.

But the next moment Amelia cried out, ‘I don't believe it!’

Tab turned and followed the direction of Amelia's gaze. Propellers humming, sails straining at their ropes, the dark fortress of Tolrush thundered toward them.

THE VORTEX

Horns blared. Bells tolled.

‘Tab!’ Amelia called as her friend ran to the door and flung it open. ‘You're confined to quarters! And what about Torby?’

Tab stopped in her tracks. Amelia was right. She couldn't leave Torby when he was sick.

‘Do you mind if I come in?’ said a nervous voice right behind her. It was Fontagu. Tab's eyes lit up.

‘Just the person I wanted to see,’ she said. ‘Torby's in there. He's got a fever. If he wakes, give him this herbal tonic and tell him I'll be back soon. Come on, you two!’

And she was out the door.

As the trio ran through the streets, Tab pointed up at the dark mass of Tolrush. ‘Look! They're attacking us with everything they have.’

Amelia and Philmon had already seen the flying lizards and demon-like dragons bombarding the city. The animals were normally used for scouting and hunting.

Tab's mouth gaped. ‘They must really be desperate to be using their squadrons. They'll get snared in the rigging. Come on, you two, this one's all or nothing!’

Pandemonium reigned. Everyone but the very young or ancient was rushing to their battle stations. Streams of people were charging up onto the perimeter wall; boats were being launched to defend the port area; specially trained and equipped soldiers were trudging across the Barrenlands to meet infiltrators who had landed to starboard.

‘Look out!’ someone screamed.

A giant flying lizard, its black shape blotting out the sun, screeched as it tumbled from the sky. Stuck full of arrows, it wheeled, pitched, and plummeted amidships. More creatures thudded into the Square of the People. Tab could see squads of Verris’ archers sending volleys of arrows skyward.

Tab pounded to the nearest section of the perimeter wall and raced up the stairs. The fighting was thick on all sides. Tolrush had landed a dozen boarding parties all across Quentaris, having clearly learnt their lesson from last time. The nearest such melee was only yards away.

Ignoring this hubbub, Tab pressed her hands to either side of her forehead. Fixing her eyes on a marauding lizard she sent out her mind, questing. She mind-melded instantly with the predator. Fighting through the creature's jumbled thoughts she tried to take control of it. The creature wavered, its handler countermanding Tab's order. The lizard, disoriented, narrowly missed the bronzed minarets of the Cathedral of the Holy Benefactor Mushin. It tried to navigate the narrow canyon between two tenements but clipped a roof, lost control, and cartwheeled into the ground.

‘Yes!’ Tab cried at her small victory. By now, though, the sky was thick with flying monstrosities. Many had landed, depositing their passengers before flapping back to Tolrush for reinforcements. Screams and angry shouts rose on all sides. Quentarans fought fiercely and died bravely but the outcome of this battle wasn't much in doubt. Vastly outnumbered and low on morale, it was only a matter of time before Tolrush overwhelmed them.

Somewhere overhead, rigging snapped and twanged. Tab stared as a canvasser fell like a stone, his scream stopping abruptly when he hit the deck. Some were plucked from spars and walkways while others scurried like rodents into rat-holes as the flying lizards passed overhead. There are too few of us, Tab thought. We're… sunk…

As though to confirm her worst fears, an entire cross-spar, sail and all, came crashing down. Sailors scrambled for their lives. The vast billowing canvas settled languidly over several city blocks. Ironically, this saved many from the attacks of the lizards. Conversely, and no doubt part of the saboteurs’ plans, the fallen rigging and sails gave better access to the enemy's airborne troops.

Amelia, who was using levitation spells to toss Tolrushians overboard or deflect killing strokes of sword or pike, joined Tab on the battlement.

‘Where's Philmon?’ gasped Tab. She was winded, having sent yet another lizard crashing into the ground.

‘He went to his battle station. Watch out!’

Amelia magically deflected a thrown axe that would have split Tab's head in two.

‘This is madness!’ Tab screamed.

‘Look at that!’ Amelia said, shaking Tab.

Tab followed her pointing finger. A vast mushroom-shaped vortex turned ponderously in the distance. Livercoloured clouds broiled in its mouth, lightning crackled. It was more frightening than any vortex Tab had ever seen.

‘We're going into that?’ she whispered.

‘Well, if we stay here, we die,’ cried Amelia, pulling Tab to safety as two Tolrushians ran past.

Tab shivered. No one liked flying through a vortex. It felt too much like entering banned rift caves. She shook her head as she tried to focus on the task at hand: namely, stemming the airborne attack.

A three-lizard squad darted in low under the forward sail. As Tab watched, they flew between tall buildings and towers, down where the ranks of Verris’ archers could not assail them. As they swept past her, Tab recognised one of the riders on the middle beast: Kull Vladis.

The lizards landed in a small square and the Tolrushians quickly dismounted.

‘I can't see them!’ Tab cried, craning her neck. ‘Stay here,’ she told Amelia, then raced down the stairs.

Tab reached the square just in time to see the last of the Tolrushians disappear into a culvert at the base of a tower. Running lightly and quietly to the entrance, she peeked inside. She saw torches flaring in the distance, and bit her lip. Should she follow?

Quentaris was undermined by catacombs, but this tunnel had a carved look which meant that it was probably somebody's escape route. Only thieves and royalty had need of such tunnels. And Tab had an idea she knew just where this tunnel would lead.

Cursing herself for an idiot, Tab ducked inside and followed the distant lights, being careful to stay back as far as she could without losing sight of her quarry.

The tunnel twisted and turned, dropped steeply at one point into that maze-like underworld that existed beneath Quentaris, then thankfully started up again. And all the time Tab's heart hammered. If she lost sight of the torches, she would be marooned in the pitch dark: she would have no hope of finding her way out of here again.

With these chilling thoughts to keep her company, Tab hurried along in the Tolrushians’ rear, stumbling over unseen objects, barking her shins, and once bashing her head on a projecting beam. She nearly lost sight of the rear-most torch then and only the fact that the Tolrushian bearing it stopped to retie his sandal allowed her to catch up again.

Finally, Tab climbed stairs that led to a slightly open door. Pressing an ear to it, she could only see a tiny part of the room but what she saw made her catch her breath. Tolrushians… and Quentarans! Ruffians by the look of them. Thugs for hire.

Although those inside spoke in low tones, Tab could hear them clearly. And there was one voice that she recognised, aside from Kull's, that chilled her with instant fury.

‘Yes, yes, we've agreed to all this in principle,’ said an irritable Kull Vladis. ‘You shall be installed as Monarch of Quentaris.’

‘And you shall be Overlord,’ came Florian's fawning voice. ‘We will rule the rift planes like demi-gods!’

‘And your uncle?’ queried Kull.

‘Pah! He shall do as he's told else I'll have him whipped bare and thrown to the blood wasps.’

Kull laughed mirthlessly. ‘Family loyalty is so overrated.’

Tab rammed her hand in her mouth to gag it. The little monster!

Kull said, ‘And your engines? You've disabled them, as a greed?’

‘I have a magician in my pay. He will steal the icefire when he gets my signal. Without it, the engines will run for only a few minutes. And with this breeze… ’

Tab finished the sentence in her own mind: with this breeze, Quentaris would become a sitting duck.

‘A toast, then. To our combined good fortune,’ Kull rumbled.

Tab heard chinking goblets. The next moment something sniffed her leg. The same something uttered a loud and horrible growl.

Slowly Tab looked down. Kull's wolfhound, Sherma, met her gaze, revealing yellowed, saliva-dripping teeth.

‘Oh!’ Tab squealed, promptly lost her balance and tumbled down the stone steps.

Before she could pick herself up, the door above flew open. Someone shouted ‘Sherma!’ and the next moment she was lifted bodily and hauled up the steps. The guard rammed his foot in her backside and shoved her into the room.

Florian's sharp intake of breath was the most gratifying sound Tab had heard. This was followed by Kull's burst of laughter as Tab fell flat on her face.

‘Get up!’ someone growled.

Tab got to her feet slowly. As she did so, she saw a dumb waiter in the wall in front of her. It was used to send trays of food up and down a shaft to the other floors. The tray itself must be on a lower floor – all she could see were ropes drawn taut.

Without hesitating she threw herself into the cavity.

‘Get her!’ yelled a guard. His fingertips grabbed for Tab's pigtails but missed. A knife thudded into the wall, just missing her ear as she scrambled into the chute.

Up or down? she thought frantically.

Then she was straining to haul herself up the ropes. She was tempted to slide down but if they cut the ropes, she might have fallen to her death. And at this depth, there might only be a cellar – an instant death trap. So up it was.

‘Stop her!’ Kull roared.

The guards tried to obey their king but none could fit into the chute. One poked his sword at her but it fell short. Through all the yells and oaths, Tab heard Florian's squeaking exclamation: ‘I can fit! The rest of you – up those stairs. She can't get far!’

Sure enough, Florian squeezed into the shaft. Tab could hear the little toad's wheezing as he strained to follow her.

Tab climbed faster. She kicked at a panel on the next floor, but could hear the guards charging into the room on the other side. Up she went to the next floor, then the next. At that point she could go no further.

She booted open the dumb waiter's panel and found herself in a meeting hall. An arched window and balcony took up most of the north wall. Her arms aching, she swung out of the shaft and pulled a dagger from her boot.

Clasping the dumb waiter ropes with one hand, she started slicing.

‘No!’ Florian screamed. His whining voice echoed up the shaft.

Tab hesitated. Could she really kill someone in cold blood? The rope trembled in her hand. Florian had almost reached her.

‘Don't cut the rope!’ he wailed. ‘I'll give you anything. You can rule by my side!’

But Tab had hesitated too long. The chamber door shattered like kindling. A guard rolled across the lush carpet.

Kull Vladis strode into the room, looking slightly out of breath. ‘Back,’ he told his men. ‘I'll handle the riftling. Sit,’ he told his wolfhound as he drew his sword.

Tab tried mind-melding with the wolfhound, but it was too agitated and she flinched from its dark angry mind. Automatically she cast about for anything that might aid her. But there was nothing in the room. Outside, yes, a strange mind, long enslaved, welcomed the touch of her mind… and she sensed a kind of release…

‘Time to teach the meddler not to meddle,’ said Kull. He lunged for Tab.

Tab ducked, parrying. The blades clanged, but she had been lucky. A dagger was no match for a sword. Already her arm was numb and that was just the first blow. Unable to tightly grip the dagger with her injured hand, she flipped it to her other hand and threw it at Kull.

The boy-king, taken completely by surprise, instinctively brought his right hand up and howled as the dagger sliced through his forearm. He dropped his sword. ‘Kill her!’ he screamed. ‘Sherma!’

Florian had meanwhile clambered from the dumb waiter. He picked up Kull's sword. ‘I'll get her!’ he crowed.

But Tab was already dashing across the room. With not a second to spare, she curled into a ball and hurled herself through the leadlight window.

The next moment she was plummeting to the ground.

Then came a loud ‘Oomph!’ as she landed on something. She looked down. She was sitting astride a dragon. Tab clutched wildly at its neck spines, frightened she would fall off.

››› I won't let you fall, Tab Vidler

Awestruck, Tab's eyes widened. She'd never encountered a talking beast before. She didn't know what to say, or how to say it.

››› My name is Melprin. Speak to me with your mind and I will hear. I thank you for freeing me

‘I fre… freed you?’ stuttered Tab. ‘How?’

›››I do not know. The moment your mind touched mine, the enslavement was broken. Thus, I am in your debt. What would you have me do, Tab Vidler?

Tab's mind raced. Florian was going to have the icefire stolen. That would spell Quentaris’ doom. The only thing to do, Tab realised, was to even the odds.

›››I understand

Melprin banked hard, giving Tab a sudden fright. She squealed and clutched the mane even tighter. She sensed rather than heard a deep throaty chuckle from her mount.

‘Not funny,’ she muttered, hoping the dragon couldn't hear everything she was thinking.

The dragon soared across Quentaris. Several lizards came near and Melprin's gushing breath vaporised them all. After that, the lizards kept a wary distance.

Then Melprin veered out from Quentaris and flapped swiftly towards Tolrush. Since the air was full of so many lizards and dragons, none paid Tab and her mount any heed, and they made it unscathed to the outskirts of the enemy city.

‘I must find their icefire gem,’ Tab shouted into the wind.

›››The icefire is kept in the Tower of Storms. I will take you there

Melprin flew like an arrow towards one of a cluster of towers in the castle complex that Kull called his palace. The entire building jutted from the forward portside of the city and was ringed by a low wall. Steps led down to a platform that bordered the void and was tinged a deep red.

Melprin overshot the tower, banked hard, and came back in a swirl of wings and fire to settle on the slippery rooftop.

›››I can blast this place to smithereens if you wish it

Tab would like nothing better but there was always the possibility that there were innocent people inside. She must warn them first. As before, the dragon knew her thoughts immediately.

›››You must hurry. They come

Tab looked back towards Quentaris and saw a battery of lizards clawing the air in their effort to gain height as swiftly as possible. On one rode a figure that she guessed was Kull.

›››Climb down my tail

Tab paled. Despite all her recent adventures – or maybe because of them – she still wasn't very fond of heights, and here was a dragon's tail drooping over the edge of a building some two hundred feet above the ground. Uh-oh.

But time was of the essence.

Tab crawled along the dragon's spiny back, reached the tail and, holding on tight, slid slowly over the edge. She risked one glance down. The good news was, yes, there was a balcony. The bad news was, if she missed it then she had a long drop ahead of her.

Dropping lightly onto the balcony, Tab ducked into the room. In the centre was a complicated machine, a pulsating icefire clutched in a metal fist. Tending the machine was a white-haired magician, possibly Kull's master magician himself. With him in attendance was a young woman.

Tab didn't waste any time. ‘There's a dragon on the roof,’ she said. ‘And in about ten seconds she's going to blast this tower to vapour, so my advice is that you run, fast!’

The young woman turned and fled at once, but the white-haired magician just laughed. ‘A ridiculous bit of foolery,’ he said. ‘As if any dragon could escape from the mind-lock which only I control! Get you gone, child, before I blast you into vapour!’