'Oh my,' murmured Naldeth.
A grating noise like the first warning of a landslip echoed around the valley. Kheda looked at the crag above the tree-dwellers' encampment expecting to see rocks tumbling from the heights. There was nothing to be seen. Then there was something there. He blinked, not trusting his own eyes, before looking at Risala. She didn't notice, transfixed as she stared up at the crag, her mouth half-open.
The shape of the outcrop had not altered. It was Kheda's perception that had changed, as if the harsh sound of stone against stone had somehow affected his eyes instead of his ears. Where he had seen dark stains trickling in meaningless patterns down the grey rock, now he saw the outlines of legs and a long, thick tail. Where the edge of the crag had been a random array of ragged stones silhouetted against the cerulean sky, now it was the curve of a dragon's spine, edged with regularly spaced razor-sharp scales. Shadows shifted to become a head rising up from a ledge. Kheda blinked again and the creature was transformed from a painted shape on the cliff to a living beast, not as long as the sky dragon but heavier, deeper in the chest and broader in the haunches.
It sprang down from its perch to land just behind the wild wizard with the gaudy cloak of beads. Its shining armoured hide was black as jet save for its underside where dark steely-grey scales offered no hint of vulnerability. Claws the colour of ancient unrusted iron dug into the stream bed as it crouched low. It snarled silently, showing metallic teeth like newly forged swords as its long black tongue tasted the air. Even the inside of its mouth was black. Against such darkness, the vibrant amber of its eyes was all the more striking. It glowered, spines bristling around its blunter, broader head, its unblinking gaze burning with golden fire.
No wonder these tree dwellers weren 't worried about being attacked.
Risala reached for Kheda's hand, her grip crushing his fingers. Kheda looked hastily at Naldeth. The young mage was motionless, hands pressed to his face, mouth open in wonder. He glanced wide-eyed at Kheda. The warlord breathed a little more easily, seeing none of the dangerous thrall in the young mage's eyes that he had feared.
He looked back at Velindre. Her eyes were closed as she sat still hugging her knees, her jaw clenched. Strain deepened every line and wrinkle in her face, aging her cruelly. Moisture condensed out of the dry air to bead her short-cropped hair like cold crystals, trickling down her temples like sweat.
The wild wizard in the beaded cloak clapped his hands together. The black dragon reared upright on its hind legs and extended its wings. Sunlight flashed from silver membranes stretched between the black bones.
The sky dragon reared up to match it, the draught from its outspread wings sending clouds of dust boiling into the air. The skull-faced mage was unbothered. None of the dust came within arm's length of his own people. The bound captives thrown into the space between the two
wizards weren't so fortunate. They writhed and coughed as sand blew all around them, filling their eyes and ears.
The beaded mage shouted angrily as the wind raised by the sky dragon's wings spread to set his people's tree-top dwellings swaying wildly. He raised his hand and the air around the platforms fell abruptly still. The black dragon sprang into the air with a brutal clap of its wings, swooping low over its opponent. It breathed an oily black mist at the blue dragon, which recoiled before leaping into flight itself. It spat white fog into the smoky stain on the air and the darkness dissipated, falling down to the earth. The skull-faced mage wheeled around, gesturing. He wasn't quite quick enough and black tendrils landed on two of his retinue. They fell choking to the sand, legs thrashing and hands clutching at their throats for an instant before being stilled in death.
The dragons didn't care. The blue flapped its mighty wings and soared higher. The black pursued it a little way and then fell sideways through the air, cutting a wide circle above the watching savages. Sand rose from the stream bed as the dragon passed overhead, trailing behind it. The dust coalesced into a glittering line cutting through I he sky wherever the black dragon's tail flicked. The crea-lure flexed its wings and rose to join the blue dragon, which had been carving lazy circles in the sky, spinning wisps of cloud out of nothingness.
The black dragon rolled backwards and lashed at the blue dragon with its tail. The shining trail of burning sand snapped like a whip and flung fiery droplets at the cloud dragon. It dodged deftly, though its skeins of cloud were thrown into disarray. Hissing, it spat white vapour at the burning drops, which promptly fell from the sky in a rain of hard black crystals.
The beaded mage's people stood their ground and jeered as the skull-faced wizard's retinue flinched and
ducked, even though he threw handfuls of vivid blue fire to shatter the black stones. A wind sprang up from nowhere to send the fragments tumbling away through the air.
'It's using the sand to make glass,' said Naldeth excitedly.
'But they're not fighting like the other dragons did.' Risala watched intently, as much fascinated as afraid.
The black dragon swooped low over the stream bed again, looking up at the blue beast. The sky dragon began circling once more, drawing the tattered fragments of its clouds back together. Head outstretched on its long blue neck and tail thrust out behind it, its supple legs extended fore and aft. Suddenly it rolled sideways and curled up so that its pointed muzzle was almost touching the vicious spike tipping its tail. The clouds it had summoned followed obediently, spinning a wreath in the air that thickened and grew. The blue dragon twisted sharply away from the coiling vapours to leave a whirlwind gathering pace and substance as it sank to threaten the black beast.
The jet dragon waited, hovering like a hawk, all its attention on the menacing spiral of cloud. The trees lining the dry stream bed thrashed in the downdraught and this time the mage in the beaded cloak did nothing to still them. In the last instant before the whirlwind touched it, the black dragon shot straight up into the sky. Taloned feet drawn close to its body, its silvered wings ripped through the air so close to the whirlwind that it seemed impossible the cloud would not touch them. But it didn't and, darting up the dry valley, the black dragon rapidly outstripped the relentlessly pursuing whirlwind. The blue dragon went chasing after both its foe and its magic, shrieking furiously.
The black dragon stopped dead in midair before
abruptly doubling back on itself to soar up over the whirlwind. Looking down, it breathed a shimmering grey smoke that fell into the heart of the spiral of cloud and melted it away like ice under the sun. The black dragon didn't pause to admire its success, wings pumping as it flew straight back down the valley. For a moment it looked as if it would collide head on with the blue dragon. At the last instant, it soared over its foe's back, head turning to breathe another noxious cloud down the length of its spine.
Slick greyness folded around the blue dragon. It yelped, head and tail whipping this way and that as it fought to escape the miasma coating it. The greyness dulled the blue dragon's vibrant colours, dragging it inexorably down towards the ground. It hissed, breathing white smoke down its own flanks to burn through the cloying murk. Just as it seemed as if the blue dragon must crash into the stream bed, it fought its way free of the clinging remnants. Turning its back on the skull-faced mage, it departed, the strong beats of its powerful wings ripping through the air.
The tree dwellers cheered loudly, with mockery in their laughter. The skull-faced wizard whirled around, his cloak of blue feathers swinging out wide behind him. The mage in the beaded cloak watched him depart with his retinue trailing behind him. The feather-crowned women hurried to catch him up, their shoulders hunched and heads hanging dispirited. The challengers made no attempt to take the hapless captives with them, still lying bound and half-choked with sand in the middle of the stream bed.