The Pryderi population of the Bregon Woods had halved since the Ghul had come to Morae.  At first, it was just the children, but more and more Pryderi women had disappeared.  

 

Arinna Brine hung from the wide branch of the watercherry tree.  In her head hundreds of voices cried aloud, tried to drown each other out.  Arinna was one of the few Pryderi who could pick up the thoughts of others, a skill passed down magically-sensitive lineages.  Although there were times when the talent was extremely handy, there were other times when it was a bane.  This was one such occasion.  The coven had gathered to discuss the situation regarding the missing Pryderi and Arinna’s head had become a battlefield where the screams of psychic missiles reverberated across her skull.  Her palms went up to her temples.  'Stop it!  Please, stop it!'

       Scores of women looked her way, unsure of how to accommodate her request.  Although Arinna was much respected in the coven, she was also feared.  Her sensitivity to the Pryderi's mental debris gave her a somewhat erratic disposition.  Her emotional waywardness was amplified when the Ghul stole her baby earlier that year.  It pushed her towards the edge.  Her moods swung from depression and hopelessness to rebellious hostility.  Numerous Pryderi quickly learnt that it was unwise to upset Arinna.  At best those who disagreed with her received a severe tongue-lashing; at worst, they were temporarily transmogrified into small animals, or so the rumours went.

        She looked around the group.  The coven numbered over 300 Pryderi, but no more than 100 had gathered for their meeting high above the forest floor.  Some had stayed away fearing repercussions from the Ghul, but many more had accompanied the Ghul back to the unknown realm from which they sprang, seduced by the hope they would see their children again.  The Ghul commander Chabriel had made it known that those members of the coven who were willing to follow them to meet with Caliban would secure the welfare of their children.  As the dark days slowly passed, and an increasing number of children continued to be taken, more and more of these invitations were accepted.  The coven’s official line was that submitting to these demands would only encourage the Ghul to take more children, but many women quickly lost their political sensibilities when faced with such a dilemma.

        Lara took her position near Arinna.  She knew her friend was struggling, as was she.  They both looked dreadful – nightmarish visions of the Ghul and the one called Caliban had intruded their dreams every night.  These terrible imaginings were common among the Pryderi who shared their dreamscape the same way other Myrrans smelt the same things or heard the same sounds.  Although the communal dreams had always unified the witches, it was also hurting them, bringing on a weariness few of them could have previously imagined.  Lara was only too aware of the intensity of Arinna’s dreams and wished she could find a way to ease her pain, to ease all their pain, but there was no incantation for such a thing.  She just had to endure until a way revealed itself.Lara remained firm in her decision not to submit to the Ghul ultimatum.  It was not that she loved her daughter less than any other witch – quite the contrary – but she suspected that if she submitted to the Ghul, she may well condemn her daughter to a more terrible fate.  The Ghul wanted the Pryderi for something, and that need would keep her baby Birren alive.  She had to find another way.  Her mother would have expected as much from her.

        'Now to business,' Arinna said, her proud voice putting all conversations to rest.  Small patches of sunlight playfully jumped across her silken robes, like the golden frigs of the Wort River.  This soft light gave her face a mystical quality, a softness that belied the turmoil beneath.  All eyes were upon her.  In that dappled, safe space high above the ground they would decide their fate.  In a handful of hours, the blanket of day would be pulled away leaving them naked and vulnerable to the darkness.  The entire coven knew intuitively that the time had come to alter the course of the events that had befallen them.  They hung expectantly, their black and grey silk gowns billowing and swaying around their serpentine forms.  They were all hoping that Arinna would provide them with the means to return to the peaceful, isolated existence they had enjoyed for so long.  Despite all that had happened, in the warm afternoon breeze that filtered through the watercherry leaves, this hope did not seem misplaced.

        'I am sure everyone here has a tale to tell but this is neither the time nor the place to be swapping stories.  We are here to clarify the details of what has transpired and to determine what must be done.'  Arinna spoke succinctly and with the certainty they had come to expect from her.  Despite her flaws, she was a natural leader.  'So what do we know?'

        'It is certain that the Ghul are being organized by one called Caliban,' said the robust Arethusa who had taken her usual place in the higher branches.  She was a young, headstrong witch who spoke plainly.

        'Yes, the one called Chabriel frequently refers to him,' said Callisandra, a beautiful young witch with blazing red hair.

        'And who is Caliban?  Their king?’ Arinna  asked.

        'I don't think he is one of them,’ said grey-haired Lissa, the coven's oldest witch.  'The name is Scorian.'

        'A Scorian?' remarked Lara surprised by this comment.  She had heard the name Caliban whispered amongst the coven and had just assumed he was Ghul.  She had pictured him with a pale, dead face much like Chabriel's.  She found it difficult to imagine him as a Myrran.  It was hard to picture anyone other than a monster being capable of abducting children.

      'It would seem he commands them with absolute authority,' Lissa continued.  'They appear to revere him.'

'Or fear him,' added Callisandra.

Arinna nodded.  'But what does he want with our children?  Why is he taking our babes?' she asked, straining to keep her voice measured and clear.

'They are too young to have anything to offer him,' observed Callisandra, who was yet to have a child.  'Why would anyone want them?'  She was yet to master the art of tact and a number of hostile glances were shot from bough to bough as her insensitive comment reverberated around the trees.   Although she lacked Arinna’s ability for reading thoughts, Callisandra quickly realised what everyone was thinking.  Her face went as red as her hair as she offered an apology which swiftly faded into a mumble.  'I didn't mean that we don't want them.  I meant…'

'Yet someone would not go to these lengths on a whim,' said Arethusa, saving Callisandra from further discomfort.  'There is a purpose at work here.  If Caliban is from Scoriath, he would know the Pryderi children would be too young to have learnt any incantations.  In terms of our magicks, they are empty vessels.'

There was a moment of silence.  Arinna let the witches consider Arethusa's comment before she added her own.  'I agree.  The children have been taken for a reason.  They are part of a much bigger plan.  I believe the children will be used as a bargaining tool.'

'A bargain!' exclaimed Lara, horrified that her baby Birren could be used in such a way.  'For what?'

'Caliban's brother?' Arethusa asked.  She swung down to a lower branch.  'Many Pryderi have heard Chabriel make mention of a sibling, someone called Remiel Grayson.  Caliban seeks him.  Perhaps these abductions are an attempt to force this person from hiding.'

Arinna shook her head slightly, her upside-down hair accentuating the movement.  'No.'  It was said with such conviction that many witches found themselves agreeing with her despite having no understanding of what had led her to such a conclusion.

Arethusa frowned.  'But the Ghul have said that –'

'I do not believe that their motivation was to provoke some Myrran we have never heard of to come forward and hand himself over to his brother.  It doesn't make sense.  If Caliban wanted to make a statement, why use the most insular race on the face of the Myr to make it?  I doubt anyone outside Morae has any idea of what we've been going through, nor would many care.  Also, Caliban merely wanted to gain the attention of his brother, wouldn’t killing the children be more effective?'

A number of the Pryderi blanched when Arinna conjured up the horrible image of their children actually being slain.

Next to Lara, a diminutive witch with straw-coloured hair was clearly agitated.  Her name was Sonia and she had lost her child that week.  Tears welled up in her eyes.  'Then what does this Caliban want?'

'He wants us.'  Arinna said it so decisively that it became fact.

'What does he want with us?' asked Lara, trying to fathom what use she could be to anyone else in the world.

'Sisters,' Arinna cried proudly, invoking the sense of sodality that had kept the Pryderi united for centuries, 'this works to our advantage.  It gives us leverage.  I don't know what Caliban wants from us, but he must need it badly to go to all this trouble.'

All nodded bar Arethusa.  'Leverage?  How so, Arinna?  We are completely at his mercy.  These Ghul would not hesitate to put our babes under the knife.'

Arinna could feel the heat coming from Arethusa’s mind.  From all their minds.  The Pryderi were frustrated.  They felt they were powerless.  Arinna believed otherwise.

'Caliban needs us.'  Arinna spoke slowly, carefully.  'Why us?  What do we have that other Myrrans don't?'

It was a rhetorical question.  Lissa was quick to see Arinna's point.  'Magick,' she said, her voice a deep croak.

'Yes!' Arinna said triumphantly.  'He requires our magick.  Talents that could stop us being victims, should we find the courage to fight back!'

Arethusa's mind flared up in Arinna's head.  'Fight back?' she exclaimed so loudly that a flock of nesting yaffle-birds erupted from the higher branches.  'Are you mad Arinna?  You know what these filth will do to our children if we rebel.'

Arinna felt a flurry of mental activity as Arethusa's remark stimulated the anxieties of the other witches hanging in the branches.  'You are right Arethusa,' she responded.  'If we fight back now, our children will be slain.  But perhaps, when we are reunited with our young, an opportunity will present itself.'  She paused for a moment to give the coven time to digest her comments.  'As you know, Caliban has already taken some of us.  I imagine he plans to gather us all eventually.  But he is in no hurry.  He seems to make his moves slowly, carefully.  And I believe we can turn that against him.'

'Arinna, you assume much,' Lissa remarked, 'but I believe you are right.  The Ghul are arrogant.  After weeks and weeks of servility, they would not expect us to rebel.  But our magick is not strong enough.  We are not what we once were.  We would be killed in the attempt, I fear.'

Arinna bowed respectfully to Lissa.  'I believe the Ghul are scared of us,' she said.  'They were quick to forbid the use of magick against them.'

'Arinna, some have tried and are now dead,' said Lissa, ever the voice of reason.

'For all we know, the Ghul are vulnerable to us in some way, but we have failed to find and exploit that vulnerability,' Arinna contended, secretly growing annoyed with the old witch's caveats.

'You may be right, but with so many children taken, we cannot risk direct confrontation.  Not here, not now.'  Lissa's tone was not combative but the opposition in her voice was clear.

'Where have they gone?' asked Callisandra, her eyes flickering from Arinna to Lissa for answers.  'Where have they taken the children?'  Her voice trembled.  Although she had no children of her own, in the week just past Callisandra's older sister Meggan had vanished.  Compelled by the Ghul, Meggan had quietly left the grove in the hope of being reunited with her child Agatha.  The threat of violence upon her daughter was all the encouragement she had needed.  The following morning Callisandra awoke to find a heart-breaking letter her sister had penned explaining her actions and asking for the coven's forgiveness.  Meggan's departure filled Callisandra with such hate and helplessness, she thought she would die.

        Lissa put out a gnarled hand and placed it upon Callisandra's small, rounded shoulder.  She had no words of comfort, no assurances that everything would be alright.  Callisandra clutched at her hand all the same.

'When I was a child,' Lissa said to the gathering, 'my mother warned me that if I did not behave the Ghul would take me away.  I knew she did not mean it and I doubt she even believed that the Ghul ever existed.  The Ghul in my mother's stories lived below the earth, in a place called the Endless.  She said they would only come out after dark, when evil things stirred, and would spend the night looking for children who had not gone to sleep.'

'It seems your mother wasn't lying,' remarked Arethusa wryly.

A sagacious expression spread across Lissa's face.  'So it would seem.  A lot of the old stories are rooted in fact.  Perhaps this place, the Endless, does exist, deep down beneath our feet.'

Lara thought of that terrible night in the grove, how the Ghul had just appeared from nowhere to take her child.  It would make sense that they came from below.  The thought of Birren being held in a hole in the dark earth sickened her.  She turned to Arinna and exclaimed, 'What should we do?'

It was time to conclude the discussion.  The witches' emotions were already frayed.  To discuss the matter with no resolution would be an act of cruelty.  'Whatever Caliban intends it cannot be good.  Perhaps he plans to add us to his ranks, turn our thaumaturgy against other Myrrans.  Perhaps he desires something only our magick can deliver to him.  We could spend all day wrapped up in conjecture.  We must take control of the situation.  We must turn our talk into action.  We must show our children what it means to be Pryderi!'

Her confident words resonated.  The witches' trust and hope floated across the space towards her.  This pleased Arinna.  She could now make the point she had intended to make from the start.  'We could be powerful enough to stand and fight…' she said seductively, 'if we reclaimed the Incanto.'

 

Long ago, the great book of spells known as the Incanto had been stolen from the Pryderi .  It was rumoured to be hidden on the Isle of Grisandole to the west.  There were many theories behind the theft but it was generally believed that the proud race of beings known as the Morgai had grown resentful of the Pryderi's skills and took the grimoire from its sacred place in the Bregon Woods.  Although the Morgai denied the theft, the Moraen covens suspected that the text had been secreted away in some dark chamber within the Morgai citadel on Grisandole.  Many Pryderi sought out the ancient tome but none were successful in locating it.

          As the years passed, many of the stronger, more complex spells faded from memory and what had been retained was only a shadowy reflection of the magick once performed by the Pryderi.  For centuries, the witches existed without their book and they became weaker in its absence.

            Lara turned to Arinna considering the magnitude of the idea.  'You want us to search for the Incanto?'

            'We must respond to challenges as they present themselves to us,’ replied Arinna.  ‘Finding the Incanto would turn the tide against the Ghul.  With the grimoire, we could be strong again.  The Incanto is the key, Lara.  We should never have stopped searching for it.  For generations we have failed to realise the simple truth – without the Incanto, we are incomplete.'

        'For all we know, the Incanto no longer exists,’ Arethusa suggested.  Her voice contained a curious mix of skepticism and hope.  Arinna could see Arethusa's mind.  She was not against searching for the text.  In fact, her mind glowed with the promise of what the book could do for their situation.  But she was also riddled with doubts.   ‘Why do you think we can locate what no other witch has been able to find for centuries.'

Arinna had prepared an answer for this inevitable question.  'Because we have so much more to lose.  I cannot believe that something we had crafted over a millennium of spell-casting could just fade into oblivion.  That is not the way of things.  With the power of the Incanto, we will achieve the stature of our forbears.  We can relearn the great spells.  And we will make our way down to Caliban's realm and take back what is ours.'

 It was a stirring speech.  None were unmoved by it.  But one witch was touched more than the others.  She was ready to act, ready to risk everything to get her daughter back.  'I will find this book,' Lara said defiantly.  'I will do what it takes to bring our children home.'

It was late afternoon when the coven finalized the details of their rebellion.  Lara Brand would travel to Grisandole, the last known location of the Incanto.  It was rumoured the Morgai had all died out and that Grisandole was now just a lonely island that even ghosts had deserted for happier places.  The Morgai citadel was said to be atop a cliff overlooking the empty Sea of Hodur.  If the Incanto was no longer there it was hoped that Lara would be able to find some clues concerning its whereabouts.  Arinna believed that a book so powerful should leave behind 'echoes of magick' and all Lara would have to do was listen carefully to hear them.

The coven had also decided that Lara would go alone.  'One witch may go unnoticed,' warned Lissa, 'but the absence of many could have terrible consequences.'

Lara hung from the broad branch that ran out from the bole of her tree, her dark purple gown floating around her like a flock of gillygulls on an ocean breeze.  It was an overcast day but Lara had torn a hole in the clouds with an incantation Arinna had taught her years before.  It was a simple spell and considered a waste of magick by some in the coven, but as the sunlight streamed through the tiny gap in the grey blanket above, Lara couldn't think of a better use for her abilities.  The air around her was warm and comforting.

Next to her hung Arinna who was using magick to eat some honeygrapes.  The honeygrape bush lay at the base of the tree.  Every now and then one of the thin branches of the bush would go taut and a golden honeygrape would pop off as if picked by an invisible hand. 

Arinna would often use her skills in such a casual way.  By contrast, Lara had to concentrate hard to achieve the simplest incantation.  She admired Arinna's talents but wished she wouldn’t show them off so regularly.

      'Do you want a honeygrape?' Arinna asked as she bit down on one of the grapes.  'They're very good.'

'No thanks Arinna,' Lara replied.  'I'm not very hungry.'  She wasn't lying.  Ever since she had agreed to journey to Grisandole, her hunger had completely disappeared. 

Suddenly, an idea jumped into Lara's mind.  So strong was the thought, Arinna could not help but read it.  'I'm sorry Lara.  I cannot go with you to Grisandole.'

Lara did not conceal her disappointment.  'Do you think it’s too dangerous for two of us to go?'

'It's not that,' Arinna replied.  'I have other… plans.'

'Plans?'

'Yes.  Once a year, on the summer solstice, representatives from all parts of the Myr meet in Cessair to discuss matters of great importance.  They call it the Assembly of Nations.  The summer solstice will be upon us in six weeks.  With the coven's permission I will travel to this assembly and entreat their help.'

Lara was surprised by this news.  'You?  But you hate the Myrrans more than anyone.'

'That is true.  I can't deny it.  I know their minds.  I know what they think.  But I am willing to put all that aside for the sake of our children.'  She was committed to the idea.  It was apparent to Lara that her friend had thought long and hard about her plan.

'But Arinna, we do not need the help of outsiders.'

Arinna shook her head.  'I disagree.  This is a bad situation Lara and I am not so proud that I will not make alliances with those I despise to ensure the safety of my child.  For my baby Pippa, I'm prepared to do anything.'

Lara thought about this for a moment, then nodded.  'I know what you mean.'  After a long pause, she added, 'I will go alone to Grisandole and do what I can do.'

'You're very brave Lara.  Your mother would be proud of you.'

'I'm not brave, Arinna.  Just desperate.  There's a difference.'

Arinna could feel just how terrified her friend was.  'I'm proud of you too.'

Above the thick branch, their serpentine tails wrapped around each other, in an intimate embrace.

'You're worried about the Ghul, Little One?' Arinna asked.  She had used the term Little One ever since she and Lara were young.  They had grown up together in the distant village of Coldbrook.  Lara had been taken in by Arinna's mother when her own mother had been killed that terrible day in the meadow.  They had grown up as sisters, which was an uncommon situation in Morae.  Most Moraen women only gave birth to one child so the concept of sisterhood was a little unusual, much like the birth of twins among other Myrran races.  Arinna and Lara enjoyed their special arrangement and formed a bond that very few others experienced.

'No.  Not the Ghul.   The marroks.  My scent is known.'

Arinna was aware of Lara's predicament.  The albino marrok would be able to smell her out leagues away.  The marroks never forgot the scent of blood.  'He won't touch you, Lara.  We'll make sure of that.'

The look on Lara's face indicated she did not share her friend's confidence.  'But Arinna, how will I get to Grisandole?  How will I even get out of the woods?'

'We will use our skill to furnish you with a steed.'

'A snorse?' Lara groaned.  The snorse was used widely over the Myr.  Arinna was adept at riding one, travelling frequently on snorseback in her journeys between Bregon Grove and her more conventional home in Coldbrook, but Lara hated them.  It was not their ugly, bulbous eyeballs on long stalks nor was it the host of popflies that congregated around their rears – it was their erratic movement across the land.  She always felt as if she were seconds away from sliding off the back of a snorse and so she avoided riding them at all costs. 

Fortunately Arinna put her fears to rest.  'No.  We need to keep you off the ground.  You won't be riding a snorse.'

Suddenly images of falling from the back of an airborne beast made the thought of clinging to the mane of a snorse a most appealing proposition.

'You’ll be fine,' Arinna said.  'Trust me.'  She picked another honeygrape from the bush far below.  As she opened her mouth to swallow the floating fruit, Lara stuck out a hand and took the grape.  She popped it in her mouth proudly, a smug look on her face taunting Arinna.  'I may not be as gifted as you Arinna,' she teased, 'but I'm a lot smarter.'

'Oh I doubt that, Little One,' Arinna replied.  'I knew you would do that as soon as you thought it.  That's why I picked the rotten one.'

        She had timed her reply beautifully.  Lara had already bitten down on the rotten grape.  There were few things in the world that tasted as bad as a rotten honeygrape.  Rancid juice, pip and skin exploded from Lara's mouth as she cursed herself.  For thirty years Arinna had been able to read her thoughts.  She would have to be extremely wily to fool her.

'Come on,' Arinna laughed.  'We have things to do.'

The incantation was a difficult one.  Lara needed a beast that could fly to Grisandole and back.  No such animal dwelt in Morae but this did not dishearten the witches – there was another way.

Lissa remembered a transmogrification incantation that would help Lara.  As matriarch of the coven and the eldest Pryderi in the grove, Lissa had cast many spells that were unknown to the other witches.  But she could not perform the difficult magick on her own.  Lissa told the coven what had to be done.  Unlike most incantations, this ancient spell required ingredients.  The coven had to find the wings of a bird to enable flight, the heart of a beast strong enough to face the danger ahead and the body of an animal strong enough to contain such a heart.

The creatures were quickly found and killed with a mercy spell.  The individual parts were laid out in a circle in the middle of the clearing at the centre of the grove.  Although the coven had nothing to fear from the Ghul – it was midmorning – a number of witches lined the perimeter of the glade, looking for any sign of the marroks that patrolled the forest floor.

Lissa held her gnarled hands out over the body parts lying on the grass before her.  She closed her eyes and began a complex incantation, repeating it over and over.  After numerous repetitions the other witches also shut their eyes and slowly joined in when they understood the cadence and tone of the spell.  The incantation grew louder and louder.  As more and more Pryderi added to the chant, the air under the trees became still and warm, heavy with the sounds of magick.

The dead body of a blue lobbsle that had been placed on its back in the circle shivered.  Legs that had been curled into its abdomen miraculously unfurled and kicked at the air.  Its long tail flapped up and down until the creature managed to flip itself over.  Its little black eyes blinked as if encountering daylight for the first time.

The lobbsle made its way clumsily to the pair of wings that had been torn from the body of a young gillygull.  Although unattached to a body, the wings started flapping slowly and lifted off the grass.  They hovered in the air for a few seconds and then settled on the back of the lobbsle like a shatterbug coming to rest on a twig.  The lobbsle craned its head around to look at its new wings and flapped them gently.  It lifted slightly off the ground and hovered there in the air, very pleased with itself. 

The lobbsle then noticed a moist red mound on the grass – a heart of a grizzum.  Lowering itself back onto the grass, it trotted over to the heart and sniffed at it.  Its small beak bit tentatively at the bloody organ.  Pausing for a moment, it savoured the taste of the strange meat.  Then it spread its mouth impossibly wide and it bit savagely at the grizzum’s heart.  It devoured the organ in seconds.

        Suddenly, the lobbsle started convulsing.  Its beady black eyes looked around in fright.  It folded its wings upon its back and fell prostrate upon the grass.  The convulsions grew more and more violent and with each spasm, the creature increased in size.  The ring of Pryderi around the creature maintained their chant, seemingly oblivious to what was happening before them.  Only Lissa moved.  Although her eyes remained closed, she slithered back as the winged, blue lobbsle before her grew and grew.  By the time the incantation concluded, it was the size of a small hut.

'It needs a name,' said Callisandra, wiping away the sweat the demanding incantation had produced on her brow.

'How about Puddy?' Lara suggested, panting from the exertion of the spell.  'I once had a pet squirl named Puddy.'

'Then Puddy it is,' Arinna said.  Although she did not look as fatigued as the others, Lara could tell that the incantation had taxed even her.

Lara slithered across to her friend.  'I should leave immediately.  I don't know how fast Puddy flies, but I would like to be in Grisandole before nightfall.'

Arinna placed a hand on Lara’s shoulder.  'I agree, Little One.'

'Will you be here when I get back?' Lara asked hopefully.

'No.  I will return to Coldbrook today and from there travel south to Cessair.'

'Oh,' said Lara meekly.

Arinna held Lara in her eyes.  'Little One, listen to me.  Should you find the Incanto, give the book to Lissa when you return to Bregon.  Do not read it yourself.  It contains dark magick that is best left alone.'

'I understand,' Lara said obediently.

'There is one more thing,' Arinna said, dropping her voice to a whisper.  'I did not mention this to the coven, but I must warn you.  Grisandole might not be as deserted as the rumours suggest.'

Lara's eyes widened.  'What?  There are Morgai still there?'

'There may be one,' Arinna said with great sobriety.  'Years ago, before I was born, my mother met a beautiful Scorian woman by the name of Lilith Cortese.  She was making her way west from Pelinore.  A storm that lasted days had settled upon the land around Coldbrook and the woman took shelter in my mother's house.'

Lara was mesmerized.  She had grown up in that house.  'And she told your mother she was Morgai.'

'No.  She wouldn't dare.  The Morgai were well aware of the contempt with which we Pryderi held their kind.  But there was no disguising it.  A Morgai's essence is very strong.  My mother knew Cortese was Morgai as soon as she stepped inside her house.  As you know, she's no fool, my mother.  By the time Cortese left, she was not only sure of what the woman was, but also where she was going.'

'Your mother didn't say anything to her?' Lara asked.  'About being Morgai, I mean?'

'In the days they shared, my mother grew to like her despite everything.  She decided not to make an issue of it.'

Lara leaned forward, trying to keep the volume in her voice low, despite her heightened emotions.  'But you don’t think she'll be there, do you?  That was at least thirty years ago.  I mean, if she's there, what will I do?  I'm no match for a Morgai.'

Arinna shrugged.  'I don't know, Little One.  I don't know.'  She took Lara’s face tenderly in her hands and kissed her on the forehead.  'Now you be careful, okay?'

Lara tried to smile but couldn’t.  She was too nervous.  She turned and slithered across to the clearing where the winged lobbsle Puddy was lying, happily munching on a number of shatterbugs it had swatted with its big, blue claw.

Puddy shuffled about on the verge, not quite sure what to make of the trembling witch who had climbed onto his back.  The other witches had provided a saddle for Lara but she was not feeling very comfortable.  It was not really a saddle at all.  Callisandra had taken an old chair from her tree hut and used some lengths of rope to fix it to the lobbsle’s back.  Arethusa had also fashioned reigns from the rope and handed these to Lara who sat apprehensively upon the chair.

'Pull left if you want to go left.  Pull right if you want to go right.  If you want to stop, pull both ropes towards you,' Arethusa instructed her with great confidence.

       'Since when did you know how to steer a creature that never existed until an hour ago?' Lara said, vainly trying to extract some humour out of the situation.

'Well, it's got to be the same as steering a snorse doesn’t it?' Arethusa laughed back.

The witches moved back to give Puddy some room.  He stretched his wings out wide and gave them a little shake.  Lara wrapped her serpentine tail around the legs of the chair on his back.

'Hey, if I pull back on the reigns and he stops, won't we fall out of the sky?' she called to Arethusa.

Arethusa thought about this for a moment and said, 'Yes, you probably will.  Just ignore that thing I said about pulling back on the reigns, okay?'

Lara shook her head in disbelief.  She was amazed she had agreed to such madness.  Puddy flapped his wings again and the ground dropped away.  Before she had any real sense of what was going on, Lara was high above the treetops.  Puddy circled around, unsure of himself.  His little legs kicked at the air, unsure of what to do.  Lara swallowed hard and pulled the reigns down hard left.  Puddy turned left.  Lara pulled the reigns down hard right.  Puddy turned right.  After a little bit of experimentation, she turned him to the west.  She relaxed the reigns and he set off in a straight line bound for Grisandole.

It was late afternoon when the nameless peninsula upon which Grisandole lay came into view.  It was not hard to find.  Surrounded by grey ocean on three sides, the mountainous stretch of land thrust out into the sea like a knife.

        Lara had never been out of Morae.  She was accustomed to thick, green woods and deep blue rivers.  The first thing that hit her about the land beyond was how colourless it was.  For all she knew, the entire world was monochromatic and the only place where colour existed was her own home.  It certainly felt like that now.  Even the sky above her was grey. 

The snow-covered peaks below were impossibly tall and steep.  Lara had never seen snow before but Arinna had told her all about it.  Etched across the ridge of mountains she could make out a thin line, a road or mountain path.  It disappeared under deep drifts of snow only to reappear further down the peninsula.  She wondered what sort of person would be hardy enough to walk such a road.  The name Lilith Cortese entered her mind but Lara would not dwell upon her and quickly thought of other things.

        Puddy seemed quite happy cutting through the sky, flapping his wings.  She found the rhythmic pounding of his wings to be strangely comforting, although she still felt incredibly vulnerable sitting on an old chair strapped to the back of a creature that wasn't even a day old.  He squawked from time to time, and every time he did so he looked around as if not quite sure of where the noise had come from.

The peninsula seemed to be thinning.  Lara looked up ahead expecting to see the citadel somewhere ahead but a bank of dark, grey clouds obscured her view.  Grisandole lay at the very tip of the peninsula and that was either in the midst of the achromatic mass of clouds, or beyond it.

Lara realized that she had no idea about how to make Puddy descend.  As soon as she thought this, he stopped flapping his broad wings.  He stretched them out wide and glided gently down towards the cloudbank before them.

It was a weird sensation flying through the clouds.  Lara felt displaced, as if she were in a dream, unable to wake.  She could feel tiny droplets soaking through her silken robes.  Before long her delicate garments lay flat against her scales.  Somewhere deep below she could hear the sound of waves crashing upon rocks, but could see nothing but grey mist.

Suddenly she broke through the clouds and what she saw took her breath away.  The Isle of Grisandole lay directly ahead.  The isle itself thrust up from the dark depths of the ocean to the equally brooding depths of the sky.  Grisandole was even more barren and depressing than Lara had imagined.  No trees clung to the steep mountainside of the isle.  No beach encircled it.  No seabirds flew above it.  It was a place as lifeless as the Myr's distant moons.  All was rock upon which nothing moved, save for the endlessly buffeting wind and waves.  The peak of the conical isle was crowned with tall black towers and battlements devoid of flags or any other sign of habitation.  On its own, the Morgai citadel seemed immense but in the context of the empty, lonely landscape surrounding it, it seemed insignificant.  Its crumbling columns ineffectually pricked the thick skin of the sky.  The sense of isolation that pervaded the isle was as chilling as the cold winds slicing across the cheerless sea below.

Underneath Lara a long thin causeway was being pounded by relentless grey surf churned up by the inhospitable Sea of Hodur.  The causeway ran a league from the end of the peninsula to the actual isle, a straight, narrow and dangerous road to an uninviting destination.  In a few places, the causeway had fallen away, leaving gaps so wide that Lara was actually glad to be sitting on an old chair on the back of a big, blue, flying beast.

 Puddy flapped his wings as they drew closer to the isle and they climbed higher and higher towards the black stronghold of the Morgai.  Lara could feel the movement of his powerful wings through the rickety legs of Callisandra's chair.  She felt her stomach lurch as her back pushed heavily against the back of the chair.  Forbidding walls hewn from black rock came into sight and quickly disappeared as Puddy pitched forward to land on one of the citadel's wide balconies.

They were in a garden of sorts.  Puddy's claws dug into the soft earth and Lara breathed a sigh of relief as everything stopped moving.  Dark green vines and tangled thorns lay all around.  Thick claw-weeds covered the area like a disease.  In a few patches, flowers grew but their colours were subdued as if they were trying to remain inconspicuous amongst the weeds.  The balcony was oval shaped, about 100 feet from end to end.  A low parapet encircled the area, except for the southern end which was bounded by a huge wall of roughly hewn bricks.  In the centre of this wall was a tall, thin archway beyond which lay a stairway covered in darkness.

Lara slid off the chair and down Puddy’s back, but her serpentine tail which had clung tightly to the chair's legs during the harrowing ascent to the citadel was tangled in itself.  She toppled forward and landed face down in the moist, prickly grass.  Thick, noisome mud splashed up onto her face and neck.

'Oh, wonderful!' she muttered, more embarrassed than hurt.

Puddy turned his head her way and grunted inquisitively.  His beady, little eyes blinked at her as if to ask why she was lying on the damp grass.

'What are you looking at?' she snapped and he quickly pulled his head away, as if upset by her tone. 

Feeling guilty, Lara got up and walked around to apologise to her strange steed, but he shuffled about so she could not see his face.  'Fine then you big, dumb crustacean!  Go ahead and sulk!' she yelled.

Her voice was swallowed up in the cold wind blowing over the crumbling stone parapets running around the sides of the garden.  Far below her, waves crashed upon the jagged rocks that ringed the isle like guard towers protecting the citadel against any who would be so foolish as to approach it by sea.

Lara looked up to see towers, balconies and stone gantries high above.  Flying buttresses stretched out over empty spaces where walls had once stood.  The citadel was massive.  It hugged the steep sides of the isle, spread out across its western, northern and eastern faces.

She and Puddy were on one of the castle’s lower balconies.  At irregular intervals above her, similar platforms jutted out from the structure.  These landings were not all as secure as the one she had found herself upon.  The masonry had fallen away from many, providing a vertiginous view to anyone who stood upon them.  But no-one stood anywhere.  As far as Lara could tell, the place was completely deserted.

 She slid across the flat, weed-filled lawn to an area where three-foot high slabs of stone sprang out of the ground.  There were twenty or so of these stone objects spread out in lines across the northern end of the balcony.  Most were covered in creeping ivy.  Lara reached out a hand to pull the ivy aside to see what lay beneath.  Before she could lay a hand on the foliage, it shuffled away of its own accord revealing a short but thick granite tablet.  It was a tombstone.

 

Here lies Tessa Cole,

         Mother of Addison

Born 52^nd day of summer 1292

Died 1^st day of winter 1512

…said the Darkbird,

'Nevermore.' 

 

Tessa Cole, Lara thought to herself.  Morgai?

She slithered across to the next grave along.  She was startled by this one – it had a large deep hole before it, roughly the size of a man.  At the bottom of this hole lay a coffin, the lid of which had been smashed in.  Lara did not tarry over the hole but she could see no sign of the corpse that should have been within the casket.  Had someone broken in to it, or worse, had something broken out?  She didn't want to think about it.

 She turned to the granite stone at the head of the grave and read the inscription: 

 

Finally at rest after long labours

Gideon Grayson

Shed not for him a single tear

Nor linger on this sombre tomb

He lies not within the coffin here

But shines above our brightest moon.

 

Lara repeated the last line of the epithet to herself.  That's nice, she thought.  I wonder who he was.

She slowly made her way through the small cemetery, pausing to read each inscription.  The concept of burying the dead in the earth was alien to the Pryderi who burnt their deceased on funeral pyres.  Although the thought of all the Morgai's bones under her feet was a little disturbing to Lara, she liked the gravestones and in a perverse way enjoyed the strange sadness they evoked.  It was not until she read the last stone that this feeling of sadness was replaced by intrigue. 

 

Eve Cortese

Born 20^th day of spring 1406

Died 1st day of winter 1639

Wife to Balthasar

Mother to beautiful Lilith

At long last asleep.

 

Lilith Cortese!  This grave contained her mother.  Arinna was right.  The woman was one of the Morgai.  The headstone said that Lilith’s mother had died in 1639.  That was 190 years ago which meant Lilith had to be at least two centuries old.  Lara knew the Morgai lived well beyond the lifespans of Pryderi, but could she expect a woman who was over 200 years old to still be alive?  She did not know, but she doubted she would find her in the citadel.  From the edge of the graveyard, it looked emptier than ever.

 Lara wended her way back through the tombstones.  Puddy still lay in the middle of the weeds, but was no longer hiding his head from her.  She slithered past him and crossed over to the thin archway in the centre of the castle wall.  Inside, a thin flight of steps curled up into the darkness of the citadel.  No torches were lit within.  The only sign of life was a small colony of shatterbugs that had made their nest in the architrave of the archway.  Even their light seemed subdued in the dull atmosphere of Grisandole.

 'Well, I can’t stay here looking at headstones,' she said to herself and stepped under the archway into the blackness beyond.  She closed her eyes and turned her palms upwards, as if expecting to catch something in them.  Her lips moved in a slow deliberate rhythm, releasing a repetitive chant that echoed up the stairs.  Lara’s eyebrows met as she frowned, straining to remember the nuances of the El Illumina incantation she had begun.  Perspiration emerged from under her delicate scales and ran down the sides of her forehead to her cheeks.  She brought her upturned hands closer together and cupped them.  After long seconds, soundless swirls of soft yellow light appeared in her hands.  The light spun, thickened and grew.  Lara could feel its glow upon her eyelids but she kept her eyes shut and continued the incantation until she felt the light coalesce into a small sphere in her hands.  The orb was neither liquid nor solid.  It sat between Lara’s fingers, a gigantic, golden drop of radiance, lighting the passageway that climbed up into the chambers beyond.

 Suddenly a low-pitched whimper sounded behind her.  She spun around to find that Puddy had followed her over to the entry to the castle.  He lowered his head and nuzzled against her side.  A long thick whisker that protruded from his forehead slapped across her face as he pushed against her, seemingly unwilling to be left alone on the balcony.

 'Puddy, you have to stay here,' she said to the oversized lobbsle and turned to make her way up the stairs.  A shuffling noise behind her indicated Puddy had no intentions of staying where he was.  She wheeled about to find him completely blocking the entryway.  His little legs scraped furiously against the flagstones but he could not squeeze through the gap.

 'I'm sorry Puddy, but you can’t come with me,' Lara said softly.  'You can't fit through the doorway.'

 The lobbsle grunted something.

 'If you're asking whether I know a spell to make you thinner, I'm afraid I don't.  Anyway, what are you afraid of?  You’re as big as a house!'

 Puddy tried one more time to push through the entryway.  Failing this, he slumped down before the archway and lay there with his long head between his claws watching Lara ascend the stairs and disappear into the Morgai stronghold.

The citadel was larger than Lara could have imagined.  Countless passageways and rooms spread out in all directions.  Dust lay on long wooden tables and ornately carved chairs.  It lay so thick on the ground that she left behind a winding trail wherever she slithered.  In some rooms, tall windows let in natural light but the day outside was so overcast and dull, it may as well have been night-time.  The deeper Lara went into the citadel, the more she began to doubt herself.  Cold-faced statues lining seemingly endless hallways stared down at her, their stern countenances doing little to raise her confidence.  The light radiating from the orb did not dispel her feelings of gloom.  She had never felt so alone.

        She sat down on a dusty couch that ran the length of a small antechamber and carefully placed the glowing orb in her lap.  Nothing else occupied the room other than an old painting of a handsome man standing between two young boys.  The boys in the portrait must have been twins as they bore a remarkable resemblance to one another, although one looked decidedly more sullen than the other.  The portrait was painted outside in a courtyard.  Behind the trio, tall sugar-elms were gilded in brilliant sunlight.  Underneath the tree a fountain sprayed water into the air.  In the distance Lara could make out small sailing boats upon a deep blue ocean.

        Her thoughts suddenly turned to her own child.  She lifted a hand to her neck and untied the top of her silken blouse revealing her chest.  A soft blue light emanated from deep within, bleeding through the small stone embedded in the soft, scaly skin above her breast.  The light gave Lara great comfort and she sighed.  ‘Birren,’ she whispered to herself and the very sound of her child’s name did much to lift her spirits.  The light signified that her daughter was still alive and that knowledge gave Lara the strength she needed to continue the search for the Incanto.

  She closed her eyes and cleared her mind.  If she was to find the great book of spells, she wouldn’t do so by aimlessly wandering around the citadel.   Arinna had said to listen for the echoes of magick.  Lara wasn’t exactly sure what that meant but she knew she couldn’t listen by mindlessly shuffling from room to room in the vast castle.  She found a comfortable position and emptied her mind of all errant thoughts.  In the half-light of the antechamber, Lara slowed her breathing and her heartbeat.  Despite the strange surroundings and her sense of isolation, she became calm.  She listened carefully, not with her ears but with every pore of her body.  She allowed herself to fall into a meditative trance.  She felt the soft touch of the mystical streams that ran through the air and the rock.  Lara encouraged her mind and body to blur and in this heightened mystical state she reached out.  Reached out and found…

        Nothing. 

 If there ever had been powerful magick within the vast spaces of the Morgai castle, it had long since disappeared.  There wasn’t the faintest suggestion of any sort of thaumaturgy.  Not an echo.  She was also certain that the Morgai woman Lilith Cortese was nowhere nearby.  In the stillness of the citadel, Lara expected to sense someone as powerful as a Morgai, but there was nothing.  At one point she thought she felt ripples of something familiar but put this down to wishful thinking.  Or perhaps it was Puddy.  It certainly wasn't the woman Arinna described.  It was possible that Cortese occupied some distant corner of the castle, a tower high above but there was no need to dwell upon it.  Lara was just relieved that she could go home – regrettably without the Incanto, but proud that she had seen the task through.

 She decided to leave the antechamber and make her way back down to Puddy.  It would be nice to have company again.  She was tired of being alone.

However, Lara wasn’t alone.  On one of the citadel's uppermost courtyards, a group had gathered and they were the last people Lara wanted to see.  The Ghul were on the Isle of Grisandole.

Major Chabriel looked around at the motley squad of soldiers before her.  They had failed her and that made her dangerous.  They had failed to find the book Caliban had sought, the selfsame book that Lara had been sent to find.  Caliban did not explain to Chabriel why he desired the Incanto, but she knew it must have been important to send them all the way out to the forsaken island.  They had also failed to find any trace of the Morgai.  She did not like to disappoint but it now seemed likely that the book and the Morgai would elude her.  They had searched the entire citadel and after almost a week upon the isle, she was frustrated and angry. 

 She looked out across the ocean.  One of the Myr's moons shone through the massive army of clouds that had assembled upon the field of the sky.  The clouds were moving, whipped into a silent march by the cold wind behind them.  Chabriel gazed at the moon, not knowing its name or why it was there.  She stared at it and became lost.  The clouds seemed to stop in their tracks and the moon took up the march, silently striding across the dark sky at a tremendous pace and yet not going anywhere at all. 

 For one who had spent countless years underground, it was a mesmerizing sight.  She looked down to where the churning sea relentlessly hammered against the acuate rocks at the base of the isle.  It was an incredible thing, this vast expanse of water surging with power, breathing in and out.  Chabriel had led numerous missions into the Overworld, and increasingly found herself captivated by the incredible diversity of this realm that lay a short distance beyond the rocky sky of her own world.  The first time she had walked out into the world on the night the Ghul had invaded Sarras, she had stood transfixed by all she saw and smelled.  After the first sortie into Morae, she often found herself lying awake in the red glow of the Endless revisiting the strange, unsettling smells that had assaulted her in the forest land of the Pryderi.

'So what exactly is that?' a voice behind her said.

 Startled out of her reverie, Chabriel spun around and thrust a needleback spike out at the speaker who stepped back quickly to avoid being pricked by the paralysing weapon.  It was Sergeant Droola, a gangly female who talked too much and did too little.

 Chabriel lowered the spike.  Droola was one of the few Ghul Chabriel would permit to speak to her in such a casual way.  It was not that Chabriel liked Droola.  To the contrary, she despised her, but the overly familiar woman had curried Caliban’s favour so Chabriel chose her words carefully.  Until such time that Droola fell out of favour, Chabriel's ambition dictated that she was civil towards the lazy sergeant.

 'What is what, Sergeant?' Chabriel asked, trying to hide her annoyance over being disturbed.

 Droola stepped forward and leaned on the low stone balcony.  She stuck out a gnarled finger and pointed to the immense ocean far below them.  'What’s that called?'

 Chabriel shrugged.  'I don't know,' she said slightly embarrassed by her ignorance.  'It's just a big lake, isn't it?' she said dismissively.

 'It don't smell like no lake,' Droola replied.

 Chabriel said nothing.  Although she was considered intelligent amongst her kind, there was so much she did not know.  There were so many things in this world that did not exist in her own.  Things that many Myrrans took for granted – mountains, snow, sky and wind – were alien to her and she revelled in the chance to experience them.  Many Ghul supported Caliban because he had given them the opportunity to hurt, maim and kill on a grand scale.  Although Chabriel took pleasure from such pursuits, she was indebted to Caliban for other reasons.  He had quite literally broadened her horizons and although concepts such as loyalty and admiration were not widely known among the Ghul, Chabriel felt a certain desire to please him.

 Standing on a balcony surrounded by so much space made her head ache and she relished the feeling.  The Overworld was indeed an incredible place.  If it were not for the cursed sun that returned at the end of every night, Chabriel would have been content to stay above ground forever.

 Caliban had promised a day would come when he would shut out the burning sun.  As far-fetched as the idea sounded, he had been a man of his word thus far, so she had no reason to doubt him.  He had opened the door to the Overworld and let the Ghul run free.  She thought back on the slaughter of the Spriggans in Camulos.  It had done much to convince the Ghul that Caliban was no mere Myrran, but rather a messiah, leading them back to a land they had long forgotten.

       'Droola, how fares your brother Gormgut?' asked Chabriel.  The Major was not usually one for conversation but did like to hear news from other parts of the Myr.  Gormgut was responsible for handling Fulgora, the first of the Cabal to be released to the surface, just as Droola had been given the responsibility for Kleesto, the great beast that now lay sleeping somewhere inside the citadel whilst the Ghul soldiers searched for Caliban’s items.

 Droola was surprised by Chabriel's uncharacteristic willingness to talk, but was eager to respond whilst the opening was there.  'Didn't you know?  He was killed some time ago.  In Camulos.'

 Chabriel was surprised by this information.  The Ghul were not easily killed so news like this was significant.  Gormgut was among the troops she had left behind to scour Camulos for the shatterstone the Kobolds had mined.  The thought that any of the soldiers could actually be killed in the deserted land was almost inconceivable. 'How did he die?  I thought we had emptied Camulos.'

        'Apparently not.  He was found on a tower in the north.  Some marroks smelt him out.  He was little more than a stain on the structure.'

       'A stain?'

       'It looked like something had just blown him apart.'

       'Too bad,' Chabriel said.  It was totally insincere but was the best she could offer.

       'No, not really,' said Droola, almost cheerfully.  'I never could stand the fat oaf.'

Three moons hung in the sky by the time the first of the reconnaissance parties returned from their search of the citadel’s lower rooms.  A thick-set, square-jawed Ghul stood to attention before Chabriel.  'Anything to report Captain Baggut?' she barked.

     'Major, we have been unable to find any book matching the description we have been given,' he said in an officious tone.

 Chabriel scowled.  'What description is that?'

 'A collection of paper sheets bound together on one side,' he replied, now slightly nervous.

 'You idiot!' she yelled.  'All books can be described that way!'

 Baggut looked down at his feet feeling stupid, but he wasn’t to blame for his limited knowledge.  The mere notion of books was strange to him as the Ghul did not read, nor did they have any medium for storing information of any type.  He could feel Chabriel's eyes burrowing into his downcast head, awaiting a response.  Lifting his head to face his tall commander, he said tentatively, 'Major, we have been unable to find any book… of any description.'

 She stared at him for a moment, her face giving no indication as to what was going on underneath.  The soldier half-expected her to strike at him with the needleback spike she was holding and his body tensed in anticipation.  However, no such blow was meted out.  Chabriel just looked up at the citadel and said, 'I doubt anyone has been here for years.'

'I'm not too sure about that, Major,' the soldier said carefully.  'We found tracks.  Inside the citadel.'

Chabriel's head snapped to attention.  This was important.  This could make the long journey to Grisandole worthwhile.  'What tracks Baggut?  You found footprints?'

        'Not exactly,’ the soldier said tentatively.

        ‘What do you mean by that?  Be exact!’  Chabriel’s impatience with the soldier billowed out across the balcony.  A number of soldiers by the entrance to the citadel edged through the doorway and disappeared into the darkness within.  Like Captain Baggut, they were very aware of the needleback spike Chabriel wielded.

 'It wasn’t footprints.  More like a tail.'

 Chabriel thought about this for a few long seconds and then her face contorted in rage.  'It's one of those damned witches!'

 Suddenly, from behind Chabriel, Droola exclaimed, 'Look.  There’s a light down there!'  She was sitting on the low parapet that ran around the balcony.  Her head leaned out and her eyes were fixed on an area of the isle below her.  As Chabriel came up beside her, Droola pointed to a balcony at least 1,000 feet below.

 Chabriel's eyes squinted.  'It's one of the Pryderi.  She's in the graveyard!' she snarled.  She pulled away from the parapet and let fly with a volley of orders.  'You soldiers hiding in the doorway, make your way down to the graveyard.  Baggut, round up any recon parties still in the castle.  Get them down to that balcony immediately.  Droola wake up Kleesto and bring her out here.  We're going down there right now!  We have a witch to catch.'

When Lara reappeared on the stairs leading down to the graveyard, Puddy didn’t quite know what to do with himself.  He leapt up and ran around in circles until he tripped over his flat blue tail.  He then stretched his wings and flapped them happily.  He hovered in the air for a second before returning to the flagstones where Lara stood curiously.

 'I see you're no longer sulking,' she observed as she waved her hand to dismiss the golden sphere that had lit her way through the citadel.  Darkness fell across the balcony.  Lara put a hand out to pat Puddy on the head.  'It's time to go home,' she said softly.

 Puddy lowered himself so that she could climb onto his back and take her seat on the old chair that still stood between his wings, like an old tower on a small hill.  Before she did so, Lara paused to look at the Morgai cemetery one last time.  A tinge of sadness crept over her.  The Morgai were once great and now all that was left of them seemed to be a lonely cemetery clinging to a precipice on a desolate isle in a long forgotten part of the Myr.  What hope did the Pryderi have for survival if a people as strong and ageless as the Morgai could so easily slip from the face of the world?

 The thick clouds parted to reveal the Myr's triplet moons.  Arma, Aldra and Colla spread their silvery light over the tangled garden and for a brief moment it looked pretty.  Suddenly an incredible humming sound filled the air and a massive shape fell to the far edge of the balcony, blocking out the moons. 

 It was a creature of some sort but of a size and shape that Lara had never seen before.  Silhouetted against the moonlight, she could see dark wings spread out along the edge of the balcony, spanning at least 100 feet across.  Each wing seemed to be covered in massive scales, like the steel armour she had seen on the Scorian soldiers who visited Coldbrook from time to time.  The dark grey scales scraped across the stone parapet as the creature settled itself and the sound set Lara's teeth on edge.  The beast dropped its head and let loose a savage cry.  The high-pitched noise exploded across the cemetery with such force Lara was pushed away from Puddy and slammed into the citadel wall. 

 The creature screamed again, this time concentrating its sonic assault upon Puddy who, despite his size, was belted thirty feet into a crumbling column in the eastern corner of the cemetery.  Callisandra's chair shattered into countless pieces as the lobbsle struck the granite pillar.  Lara winced when she saw Puddy slide to the base of the column and flop forward on the flagstones where he lay as still as stone.  For a second it looked as if the entire structure would collapse, but it stayed intact, sparing the lobbsle from an ignominious end.

The grey, winged creature stepped across the graveyard, crushing the tombstones under its six massive claws.  Its head and body were also covered in steely scales which gleamed in the moonlight bathing the garden. 

 Lara picked herself up off the flagstones to see the monster bearing down upon her.  Its great eyes peered out from its thin, wedge-shaped head.  It opened its mouth and a long purple tongue shot out and wrapped around her waist.

 Arms pinned to her side, Lara was lifted high into the air, the leathery tongue squeezing her so tightly she thought she would pop open.  The creature raised the Moraen above its head and there high above thorns and weeds surrounding the graves, Lara saw the last thing she had expected to see – on the creature's thin, ridged back sat the Ghul commander who had abducted her daughter.

 'Chabriel,' Lara hissed venomously.

 'You remember me,' Chabriel said coldly.  Lara just stared back, too stunned to say anything more.  Behind Chabriel sat another Ghul, one Lara did not recognize.  This one, a female also as far as she could tell, leered at the witch, relishing the moment.

 'I remember you Lara Brand,' Chabriel said slowly.  'I remember the night we took your child.  I also remember telling the Pryderi that none were allowed to leave the Bregon Woods.'

 Lara was terrified but the Ghul's mention of her daughter had unleashed months of suppressed anger.  'What are you?' she screamed at Chabriel, ignoring the helplessness of her position.  'What sort of monster hides behind children?'

 Chabriel stared impassively at Lara and answered: 'A ruthless one.'

 The other Ghul leaned forward and growled, ‘'You should be careful how you speak to us, witch'

 'Is that a threat?' Lara spat back.

 'It is what it is,' said Chabriel.

 'I've had enough of your threats.  You've pushed me far enough.'

 Chabriel pulled a long bone knife from her belt and waved it in front of her captive.  'We will push, pull and twist you how we like, impertinent one.  Caliban would prefer it if we did not slay anymore Pryderi, but I’m sure he would not miss one more witch.  Two if you count your daughter.'

 The tip of the knife slid under the scales on Lara’s neck.  Chabriel's eyes glowered, waiting for any excuse to cut the witch's throat out.

 'Do your worst,' Lara taunted.  'I don't care anymore.'

 Chabriel pushed the knife in slightly and a trickle of blood ran down its blade.  'Do you care so little for the fate of your progeny?'

 'I care more than a heartless beast like you could ever know,' said Lara proudly.  'But I am not so foolish to believe that my actions will have any influence over what you do to my daughter.  I trust you as I would trust a marrok.'  Lara could feel the blade sitting on the tender skin under her scales.  It would take the smallest movement for the Ghul to slit her throat.

 'You are reckless, Lara Brand,' Chabriel warned.

 'No,' Lara said sternly.  'I'm not.  My daughter is still alive because your master has deemed it so.  You are not in charge here.'  Despite the knife at her throat, Lara allowed herself a smile.  'You are just a lackey.'

            Chabriel's impassive demeanour was cast aside.  She was incensed.  Her face contorted with rage.  Lara could feel Chabriel’s grip on the knife shift as she prepared to use the blade.  She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable.

A scream of pure pain filled the night but it was not Lara's.  In a blur of movement, Puddy had leapt up from the base of the column and clamped down hard on Kleesto's tongue with one of his claws, shearing through the muscular tissue with ease.  Lara felt the tongue’s grip slacken and then she was falling to the tangled grass beneath.  She quickly extricated herself from the bloody tongue which thrashed about on the ground like a crazed animal.

 Kleesto howled wildly, its sonic blows punching into the citadel wall and courtyard.  It bucked and spun, trying to stop the agony that had overtaken its body.  Both Chabriel and Droola were thrown clear across the courtyard, colliding with the same column Puddy had hit only minutes earlier.  The uppermost blocks teetered for a minute and then came down heavily right on top of them.

 Kleesto's frenzied bucking had also sent Puddy flying through the air, but the lobbsle managed to spread his wings and regain control of his flight before colliding with anything.  Kleesto spread its wings as well and soared off up into the dark skies above, its tormented cries boring into the cold night air.

 Puddy landed near the fallen column.  The Ghul's blood seeping through the pile of broken blocks caught his interest.  With a childlike expression, he watched the strange green ooze trickle out through the rubble and run into the grooves between the flagstones.

 'Puddy!' Lara screamed. 'We must get out of here!  Come on!'  She was by the graves at the far end of the balcony.  She quickly realized that luck was on their side but did not want to test it by spending a second longer on Grisandole.

 Puddy by contrast had no sense of luck and ignored her protestations.  He sniffed around the rubble looking for some sign of the Ghul who had been crushed under the thick column.  The blood continued to flow but he could not see its source.  Puddy stepped up on the mound, oblivious to the rocks and dirt moving beneath him.

 Chabriel exploded out of the rubble and thrusting upward buried her long needleback spine into the soft flesh of Puddy's stomach.  The lobbsle reared up and clutched at his belly with his many legs.  He fell backwards and rolled across the flagstones, each revolution driving the spine in further.

 'Puddy!' screamed Lara who was stunned that her good luck has lasted for such a short time.  She looked from Puddy to the two Ghul pulling themselves out from under the stone blocks that had fallen on them.  Their skin had been ripped and their bones broken but they were still alive.  'Impossible!' Lara whispered to herself.  Chabriel wiped the dirt from her arms and legs as if she had merely tripped over.  The Ghul commander turned and seeing Droola's flailing hand, pulled violently at her subordinate, trying to free her from the rubble that was stained with their blood.

 To the left of the Ghul, Puddy lay on his stomach staring up into the sky.  He was wracked with pain but strangely, as he tried pathetically to extricate the needleback spike from his underbelly, he felt the pain subside.  He tried to make his way to Lara.  His body lifted momentarily before his legs collapsed under him.  He attempted to drag himself across the ground but his huge claws refused to respond.  The lobbsle had neither the experience nor the intelligence to understand that he was paralysed.  He could not even move his eyes.  They just gazed upwards, fixed upon Arma, the Myr's largest moon. 

 A grey shape passed before the moon.  Kleesto hovered for a second, its rapidly flapping wings filling the air with a deafening hum.  Although every instinct in his blue body told Puddy to move, nothing happened.  The needleback spine had done its work and the lobbsle was vulnerable, totally at the mercy of the beast hovering above him.

 But like his Ghul masters, Kleesto had no mercy to give.  It erratically darted from side to side, wondering why the creature below did not try to flee.  It just lay there, staring into the sky.  Kleesto roared and the wave of sound pounded down on the lobbsle and still it did not move.

       Similarly, Lara did not understand why Puddy stayed where he was.  She knew it was irresponsible, knew she would probably be killed for the gesture, but she decided to go to his side.  She did not know how, but she would defend him from the Ghul and their pet.

        However, before she had a chance to move, Kleesto swept down towards Puddy.  Lara had never seen anything move so fast.  Kleesto picked up the lobbsle in his thick claws and crushed the poor, short-lived creature.  Puddy's shell shattered into countless pieces and yellow goo splattered down on the shattered gravestones of the Morgai.

Lara slid back towards the balcony’s edge.  She peered over the low parapet.  The drop was frightening.   Far below she could make out white explosions of surf where the Sea of Hodur crashed against the obstinate landmass in its way.  Even if she survived the fall, she would soon find herself dashed to pieces against the rocks below.

At the far side of the cemetery, the two Ghul were rummaging around in the rubble.  Lara was relieved that they were momentarily distracted but this relief quickly turned to despair when seconds later Chabriel and Droola held aloft what they had been looking for – their weapons. 

 Chabriel turned.  Clutching her long bladed knife, she pointed its sharp tip directly at Lara.  She was obsessed with killing the witch.  Droola held before her a jagged-edged scimitar and waved it at Lara in a similarly threatening gesture.  The pair made their way slowly across the graveyard, their broken limbs making their approach all the more terrifying.

 No matter which way Lara looked at it, she was in for a grisly end.  If she stayed where she was, she would be eviscerated by the sinister pair approaching her.  If she fled over the parapet, she would be killed on the rocks below.  She could try to invoke a spell but the sight of Kleesto furiously devouring on Puddy's innards had sent her mind into a palsy.  Four of the monstrous beast’s claws gripped the lobbsle’s exoskeleton whilst its snout buried itself in the soft meat contained within, ignoring the excruciating pain shooting out from its tongue.  The ugly sounds of chewing and slurping reverberated across the cemetery.  Lara was sickened by the display and wanted to vomit. 

When Kleesto finished dining upon the lobbsle’s flesh, it callously cast aside the exoskeleton.  Lara had to duck to avoid the discarded shell which flew over the balcony and fell out of sight.

 Its meal finished, Kleesto turned its attention upon Lara.  Its eyes narrowed as it approached her.  The Ghul limped forward too, their murderous intentions burning like fire in their eyes.  Lara looked backwards and forwards, from the drop behind to the trio approaching her.  A choice had to be made.  She looked at the rock face below her once more.  There were no balconies below, no outcrop to which she could descend.  She was at the lowest level of the citadel.  Then she saw something that Gave her a grain of hope.  She sat back on the edge of the parapet and slid off the edge.

Chabriel was furious.  It was not the outcome she was expecting.  She turned to Kleesto, her face livid.  'Go on you stupid thing – the witch!  Find the witch!'

 She grabbed Droola by the shoulder and shoved her towards Kleesto.  As Droola mounted the beast, Chabriel shouted, 'Dive down to the water below and retrieve the body.  I want to take Lara Brand's corpse back to the Pryderi to show them what happens to those who defy the Ghul.'  She held her bone knife aloft and swung it down upon Kleesto's snout, slapping the creature with the flat of the blade.  Kleesto hissed, baring three sets of brilliantly sharp teeth and a still bleeding tongue, but Chabriel was not impressed.  'Don't you bare your teeth at me, you dim-witted animal.  If you weren't so busy feeding your face, the witch wouldn’t have escaped.'

 Droola stuck her heels into Kleesto's sides and it flew out across the cemetery and dived over the parapet.  Chabriel made her way over to the balcony's edge and gazed down upon the rocks below, looking for some sign of the suicidal witch.

However, Lara was neither suicidal nor was she dashed to pieces upon the rocks below.  As she fell down the steep precipice, Lara’s arms and tail reached out for the thick patch of creeping ivy she had seen from the balcony.  Her tail brushed against a sinewy length of vine and whipped around it desperately.  Her long fingers clamped around the plant's green tendrils.  She had not fallen so far that her momentum was greater than her strength.  She held her place on the vine. 

 The creeping ivy covered an irregular patch of roughly thirty feet.  The ivy was dense and Lara quickly realized that she could bury herself within it.  She knew Kleesto would not be long in pursuing her and that she would be an easy target should the beast see her clinging on to the foliage hundreds of feet above the battering waves below.

 She dug herself deep into the tangled vines and twisted herself around so she was looking out from the wall.  Moments later the vast figure of Kleesto swept past her and sailed down to the pounding surf below.

Lara was safe for the time being.  She could feel the light of the moons shining through the leaves surrounding her like a veil.  She could smell the pungent aroma of the ocean wafting up the cliff.  Most importantly she could follow the small shape of Kleesto hovering over the dark water below, obviously searching for some sign of her body.

About twenty feet above her Lara could see the broad sweeping lip of the balcony.  The underside was deep in shadow but the edge of the parapet was lined with the argent light of the Myr's moons.

Lara was exhausted and closed her eyes.  At first she experienced deep and peaceful darkness, but then her head became full with images of the night’s events – Droola's leering gaze, Chabriel taunting her with the long bone knife, the cruel sight of Kleesto licking out the insides of Puddy’s exoskeleton.  The images coalesced into a bloody collage and Lara thrust her eyes open to be rid of them.

         Something had changed when Lara looked out through the vines.  At first she wasn't sure what it was but then she realized that some time had passed.  Perhaps hours.  She could no longer see the Myr's moons above.  The vine lay in the darkness of the balcony.

        Lara leaned forward and cast her eyes down towards the sea.  Kleesto was still there but it was no longer flying.  It was perched on a thin wedge of rock that sliced through the sea about fifty yards from the base of the cliff.

Suddenly Lara felt movement around her and her heart skipped a beat.  She could not see anything in the ivy with her, but something had definitely disturbed the vines.  After long seconds, Lara realized that the ivy itself was moving.  She shouldn’t have been surprised.  She had seen the creeping vines move earlier that night but she hadn’t been in the midst of them at the time.

 Carrying Lara with it, the ivy moved further down the cliff until it was out of the balcony’s moon-shadow.  She was still high above the savage rocks below, but felt safer now she had some distance between her and the cemetery where she had been subjected to such terrible violence.

She looked up at the edge of the balcony and found she was unexpectedly looking at the malefic face of Major Chabriel.

 There was no mistaking the expression on the Ghul’s face.  She could see Lara hiding in the ivy, the sharp light of the moon betraying the Moraen in the green leaves.

'The witch, Droola!' Chabriel screamed with all her might.  'In the vines!  She’s in the vines!'

Droola was too far away to hear Chabriel.  The crashing waves drowned out all other sounds.  But Kleesto was a different beast altogether.  Its aural abilities were far greater than the Ghul or any creature that walked below or above the Myr.  It could hear Chabriel screaming from the battlements above and understood what she meant.

       Kleesto's wings exploded into action and it darted up into the sky.  So sudden was its flight towards the cemetery above, Droola toppled backwards and almost fell off the beast.  The Ghul sergeant scrambled back onto the saddle she had fixed to Kleesto and shouted, 'What are you doing?  We have to find the witch!  Go back down.'

         Kleesto ignored her protestations and barrelled on through the air.  It could see Lara hiding in the vines and let loose its fell cry. 

         Lara was slammed up against the cliff face, the vines surrounding her doing little to soften the impact of Kleesto’s scream.  Seemingly aware of the Kleesto’s assault and not liking it, the entire web of creeping ivy scuttled down the precipice taking Lara with it.

        On the edge of the balcony above, Chabriel was shouting.  Droola could not hear her and gestured to Kleesto to take her up.  The flying behemoth ignored her and flew down to follow the rapidly descending ivy.  Kleesto was focused upon one thing – Lara Brand.  It associated the witch with the severing of its tongue and had nothing but revenge on its mind.

'Take me up,’ Droola shouted but Kleesto continued to ignore her.  Again the beast released a brutal scream, pounding Lara into the rock face.  The Moraen was struggling to remain conscious.  It was doubtful she would survive another assault.

Droola pulled out her scimitar and jumped from the saddle.  She caught Kleesto by the neck and edged towards its triangular head.  She leaned forward brandishing the scimitar in a most threatening way.  ‘You take me up or I’ll ram this through your eyeball,’ she hissed.

One of Kleesto’s huge eyeballs swivelled back to look at the sharp tip of the weapon.  The eyeball then swung back to the battered figure of the witch caught in the ivy.  Droola pushed the scimitar forward so that it was only an inch away from the moist film covering Kleesto’s left eye.

 Suddenly the beast shot upward and within seconds was perched on the cemetery balcony.  Droola clambered off to be presented with Chabriel's orders.  'Take her alive Droola.  I want her alive.'

 Droola was confused.  The Major was intent on killing the witch only an hour before.

As if picking up on this thought, Chabriel said, 'She has lost all rights to an easy death!  I can do more to her alive.  I can make a most unforgettable example of her.  Teach these damned witches a lesson.'

Kleesto was gone.  The beast had quietly dropped from the edge of the balcony and made its way back down the precipice. 

         About halfway between the balcony and the water below, the creeping ivy had tried to wedge itself into a fissure in the rocks.

   Kleesto screamed in frustration, unable to see the witch wrapped up in the ivy’s green arms.  The shrill cry thumped against the cliff face but the ivy did not move, nor did it give up the witch it held within.  Kleesto screamed again but still the ivy did not respond.

    Hovering to remain level with the ivy, Kleesto's eyes fixed on the green mass of leaves that concealed its quarry.  The beast would not be denied.  Suddenly, it shot forward, like a bolt from a crossbow.  It slammed into the stone wall, cracking the rock and missing Lara by inches.  Kleesto tried to pull back but the ivy had wrapped its tendrils around the creature.

    Weakened by the impact, Lara lost her hold on the vines and slid out from her verdant refuge and tumbled down the cliff.  Her skull struck the unforgiving rock wall and she lost consciousness, falling headlong to the reef below.

    A surge of the tide rose to catch her and swept her out of the reach of the jagged rocks at the base of the cliff.  The icy sting of the water and the heaving motion of the waves pulled Lara back into a conscious state and she yelped in pain.  The tide withdrew from the isle’s walls and within seconds Lara found herself pulled thirty yards out to sea.  No longer buoyed by the swell, she slipped under the surface of the water.  Her home in the trees of Morae gave her little opportunity for swimming lessons; she was sinking fast.

        Suddenly, a gargantuan shape pounded into the water nearby.  It was Kleesto, tangled in the creeping ivy, sinking towards the bottom of the ocean.  The beast hit the waves with incredible force.  The volume of displaced water was so great that Lara felt herself being pushed upward to the surface.  As she broke through the waves, the Moraen sucked in the thin, cold air as if it were her last breath.  Her arms flailed about and instead of slapping the water, they connected with something hard.  Instinctively, her fingers clasped around the object, and beyond all hope, it was buoyant.  Lara had taken hold of a large piece of Puddy’s exoskeleton.  It was concave and big enough for her to pull herself into it.

            Caught in a benign current, Lara watched the Grisandole citadel drift away.  She found it difficult to accept that she was still alive.  She started shaking from the shock and wept as she was pulled out to sea.

From the edge of the cemetery balcony, Chabriel stared out across the ocean.  She scratched her bony head wondering how everything had gone so wrong so quickly.  She turned back to Droola.  'You fool.  You and that stupid beast have allowed the witch to escape.

        Droola hung her head low.  'I'm sorry Major Chabriel,' she muttered.  The silence that followed was excruciating.  ‘What happens now?’ Droola added nervously.

            A screeching bellow from the water below indicated that Kleesto had extricated itself from the ivy and had found its way to the surface.  Chabriel gazed down at the gigantic creature flapping furiously as it pulled itself clear of the water.  'Dumb brute,' she muttered as she lifted her head and looked disconsolately out to sea.  Far on the horizon the lanterns of a distant ship could be seen and further beyond that, the black sky faded to blue, signalling the inevitable arrival of morning.

            ‘Major?’

         The Ghul commander did not bother to look at her subordinate.  'I will tell you what happens now Droola.  Tonight, you will begin the long march back to the Morae breach and from there return to the Endless.  I will provide you with a report to present to Caliban that fully implicates you in the failure to capture the witch Lara Brand.  I intend to make you entirely responsible for this disaster. If you are lucky, you will be reassigned to the Nursery.  Otherwise, I expect Caliban will have you chopped up into pieces and fed to the skitteriks.'

            'Yes ma'am,' said Droola dutifully.  Chabriel's intention to lay all the blame for their failure at her feet came as no surprise.  She could do nothing but resign herself to her fate.  She had heard of the Nursery, where Caliban kept the Pryderi babies.  As a punishment, it seemed mild by most people’s standards, but the Ghul had a strong aversion to their own offspring, let alone the younglings of others.  Caliban added to the humiliation of those sent to the Nursery by making them wear aprons fashioned on the Scorian nannies he had known as a child.

 Chabriel walked away and then stopped, remembering a most important matter.  'You still have the bones?' Chabriel asked.

 'Yes ma’am.  I do,' Droola answered sycophantically, hoping her reply would please Chabriel.

'Then the trip hasn’t been a total waste.'

A squad of ten Ghul came marching through the wide arch at the far end of the graveyard.  One of them held a particularly vicious-looking albino marrok on a short leash.  It was the same marrok that had attacked Lara Brand the night her daughter was taken, the very marrok that had killed Lara’s mother years before. 

        The soldiers stood to attention as their sergeant stepped forward and saluted Chabriel.  ‘Commander, we have completed our sweep of the castle,’ reported Spulla, a sombre, old soldier who was more comfortable with marroks than he was with other Ghul.  'In a spire on the far western side, we found some signs of recent habitation.  The marroks have detected traces of someone’s scent, but it could be weeks old.'

         Chabriel nodded.  ‘Remiel Grayson?’ she said to herself, toying with the idea that they had picked up the trail of the one Caliban sought with such inexorable fervour.

        Thinking Chabriel was talking to him, Spulla said, 'here were perfumes and fragrances.  We believe the Morgai to be female.  Apparently Myrran women like to disguise their smells with more appealing aromas.'  Then he added, with no hint of humour, 'Perhaps Caliban’s sibling has a predilection for feminine behaviour.'

  'Don’t be an idiot Spulla,' Chabriel snapped.  'It isn’t Grayson.  It could have been a seer.  I imagine she had a premonition of our coming and fled.'

 The soldier nodded and remained standing at attention awaiting further orders.  Chabriel considered the situation and said nothing for some time.  Spulla was far too disciplined a soldier to disturb her from her reveries, so he waited patiently for her to speak, one hand patting the nape of the neck of the albino marrok. 

 'Sergeant, daybreak is near,' said Chabriel glancing over at the eastern sky.  'The burning orb will rise before the hour is up.  We will hole up here until nightfall.'

 'What of the Morgai female?'

Chabriel stepped forward so that she was only an inch away from the sergeant's face.  'She will be our prize.  We will hunt her down and kill her.  We can't have a seer interfering with Caliban's plans.'

 A harsh scraping sound on the flagstones behind her alerted Chabriel to Kleesto’s return.  The beast was lying on the courtyard and was vainly trying to pull strands of ivy that were stuck between its pinions.

        'You will stay with me, stupid creature' Chabriel sneered at Kleesto.  'You will be my mount.  Hopefully, I will be able to knock some sense into you.'

Aboard the Acoran clipper The Intrepid, Captain Simeon Kallady moved to the prow of the ship, his two wooden legs clip-clopping across the deck as he went.  With a chink of metal upon wood, he rested his hands on the ship’s gunnels.  The hands were not really hands at all but rather a set of three silver hooks that had been attached to each of his arms.  The claws were wrought in Camulos by a Kobold who specialized in unique assignments.  Simeon had lost all his limbs in a terrible naval accident, but contrary to the stories that surrounded him, they had not been ripped from his body by the legendary white leviatha that haunted the oceans to the north.  The truth of the matter was he had been crushed by a poorly rigged yardarm when his ship had been in port.  But it seemed that people did not want to accept such a mundane explanation for his prosthetics and so the story of Simeon's fight with a fearsome sea creature grew until it became lore, and he was the last person to refute it.

  The sun had not yet risen but the sky was rapidly growing lighter.  To the east, he could see the citadel of Grisandole pointing up at the sky like a finger, warning ships not to come too close. 

Overhead, silvery gillygulls circled the masts of his ship, their eyes upon the wake of the ship where great fish dined on krilla churned up by the ship’s passing.  The gillygulls were highly intelligent hunters.  They used the ship’s wake to hide their downward approach and it was very rare for a gillygull to resurface without a large fish in its mouth.  Once the birds had their fill they would continue to hunt, but the fish they retrieved would not be consumed – at least, not by the gillygulls.  The birds would dump fish after fish upon the decks of the clipper as a token of thanks for the inadvertent assistance the boat had given them in acquiring their breakfast.  This was a nice change to the damned quawks that had defecated all over his deck the day before.

       The closer The Intrepid drew towards Simeon’s homeland of Acoran, the more time he was finding he was spending on the deck of the ship.  Soon they would be passing the rugged cliffs of Camulos and after that, the green shores of north-west Acoran.

  Simeon gazed over the ship's and rigging with paternal pride.  This was to be the last voyage of The Intrepid; she had been decommissioned to make way for newer, faster ships that could complete the run to Sessymir in half the time she would take.  One of these new clippers awaited him in the drydocks near Griflet, but like so many seamen, Simeon Kallady was a romantic at heart and was saddened by the inevitable passing of his first commission.

 Franklin Baffin, the ship's boatswain came up on deck carrying a hot, intoxicating brew made from the crushed javo beans of distant Ankara.  'Cap'n, I made you a cuppa,' he said handing over the steaming mug.

 'Thanks Bosun,' Simeon replied as his claws wrapped around the cup.  The boatswain smiled.  They had known each other for twenty years, and never once had he heard Simeon Kallady address him by his first name.  He wasn't even sure he knew it.  He was a fine captain but an absolute stickler for protocol.  It was either 'Petty Officer' or 'Bosun', never Franklin.

 'Cap'n, I have the night-watch's report for you.'

 'Anything of note?'

 'No sir.  A quiet night.  As you can see we’re just passing Grisandole.  We made good speed throughout the night, averaging thirty knots an hour.  We should be west of the Briar Patch by late afternoon.'

 'Home in time for tea, eh Bosun?'

 Baffin smiled broadly.  'Not quite, sir.'

Home in time for tea was Simeon's catch-cry, a reminder that no matter how daunting a voyage may be, no matter how dire a predicament, their homeland of Acoran would always be waiting for them.

 Simeon gazed at the distant Morgai citadel.  'Grisandole.  You know, Bosun, there was a time when a beacon would be lit in the tower, a warning to ships, that –'

 He stopped his reverie and leaned over the gunnel straining his eyes in the pre-dawn light.

 'What is it Cap'n?'

 'I thought I saw something out there.'

 'Cap'n, there's naught out there but white caps, cold water and jagged reefs.'

 'But…'  Whatever it was, it was gone.  He leaned back and called up to the nest.  'You see anything Hawkins?'

 A head appeared over the circular rail running around the main top.  'No Captain,' called back Hawkins.  'As long as we keep this line, we’ll stay clear of the rocks.'

 Simeon nodded, but his face was still unsettled.  His man in the nest was staring straight ahead not to port.  He stared back out toward Grisandole, scanning the grey waters for the blue shape he had caught out of the corner of his eyes, but there was nothing but white-tipped waves and black reefs.  He took a large draft of the mug of javo and shrugged his shoulders.

 'Cap'n, breakfast will be ready in the officers' quarters,' Baffin said cheerfully.  'Fried carpu and crane eggs on toast.'

Simeon's portly stomach growled in response.  He needed no more provocation than that.  He slowly turned to follow Baffin to the officers' quarters, but in the last moment before leaving something hooked his attention – it was not the blue shape he had seen before, but a small faint light rising and falling with the swell of the ocean.

Lara had seen the ship draw nearer, and in a desperate act, she had managed to successfully complete the illumination incantation in the vain hope that someone aboard would see it.

        Simeon called to the night-crew to drop the sails and in the last remaining minutes of their shift, they pulled the Moraen aboard.

        Lara lay on the deck of the clipper, breathless and emotionally drained.  She felt extremely unnerved by the stares of the sailors who had never seen a woman with a tail instead of legs.  Apprehensive about their next move, she blurted out, 'I am not a fish, so do not kill me.'

As the sun breathed its light across the southern reaches of the Sea of Hodur, Simeon Kallady threw a blanket around Lara Brand and led her to the warmth and security of his quarters below.