Chapter 4

Convergence

It was dark and uncomfortable in the Ranger's prison, the throb in his head didn't get any better, and he was finding it difficult to keep focused. Battering the door had only made his hands hurt, and kicking it hadn't helped either. There was nothing else to help him, and he was too distracted to think calmly about how else to escape. He'd worried for a while, and paced as the cell, measuring it out with his footsteps, trying to concentrate on making the time pass more quickly. But eventually he'd slumped down with his back to the door and just let his mind wander.

Instead of worrying about what was going to happen, or why he had been captured, there was only one thing (or rather, one person) he wanted to think about: Sheila. How could he not? They'd shared another wonderful, fantastic, mind-blowing kiss. She had said she loved him; the most beautiful girl in the Realm said she loved him too. He should be feeling on top of the world.

But he didn't. There was too much at stake here, they couldn't get involved. They shouldn't get involved, even thought they both wanted to. How was he going to get through each day without touching her, or holding her or kissing her? It had been difficult enough before, but now? He wasn't going to be able to keep this a secret for much longer.

And now he'd started to think about it, he couldn't stop himself from playing through the possibility that they became a couple, regardless of the dangers. He let his imagination run, and the fantasy increased in depth and detail, and he tried to second-guess what the others would do and say. Bobby would be pleased, Hank was sure. He and the Barbarian got on well, and Hank was sure that officially dating his sister wouldn't change that. Diana would probably be relieved that all the seeking around was over. She knew; she had known from the first time Hank had set eyes on Sheila. Yes, Diana would be glad for them (her experience with Kosar notwithstanding).

Presto was more difficult, and Hank was sure that, while he would be pleased, he wouldn't think that it was such a good idea; it was once bitten twice shy with him. He'd loved Varla from the instant they'd met, but he couldn't keep her. Like Diana, he understood the dangers of getting involved in this crazy place. The Magician would be worried about the stability of the group too, should anything go wrong between them (not that the relationship ever would go wrong, of course).

The damn Cavalier would just make life unbearable.

Well, he could live with that for the chance to be with the girl of his dreams. And if the Cavalier didn't like it, then he could just take a hike. No one would stop him. In fact, maybe it would be the last straw and they would be rid of him and all his stupid stunts once and for all! They wouldn't have to go on any rescue missions; they wouldn't have to give up on any more portals for him, they wouldn't have to put up with his moods and his sulks either.

That would be a lovely change. He could get used to them being Cavalier-free very, very easily; that damn Cavalier had caused so much trouble recently, and he'd been more annoying, more pig-headed and more arrogant than usual. Hank found it difficult to really dislike anyone, but the Cavalier was coming very close.

At the back of his mind was still the whisper of guilt, undeterred by the reassurances of earlier. And try as he might to ignore it, the whisper slowly grow stronger. Eventually, telling himself that Eric deserved what he got stopped working.

In the dark of this cell, he found himself going over exactly what had happened that day in the Troglodyte Lair, even though he'd tried not to think about it since. He could feel the shock and guilt at seeing Eric lying on the floor, dead to the world. But after the Cavalier had come round, they'd seen what he'd done: The Troglodyte Guard with a sword in its back. Dead. They'd never gone that far before. He'd never stepped over the line, not even with Venger. But Eric had. Hadn't he? Whatever Sheila might say, that Trog Guard was dead. But was it at Eric's hand?

Sitting here, it was simple to imagine what it would have been like for the unfortunate Cavalier at the hands of those Troglodytes. Hank shivered. Here, even though he was alone, he had no doubt that the others would come and help him. He was positive; he had been positive they would come to help him when he was stuck in the Darkling's Grotto too: The Cavalier hadn't had that luxury.

But even in those circumstances, if was almost impossible to believe that Eric would have killed. The words of Sheila came back to him. He could barely stand up, let alone lift a sword! There had been other slaves, one of them must have come to help. That would certainly explain it. Someone else had killed the guard, to save the Cavalier.

At first he denied the idea that Eric had been in that much danger, but considering the condition they'd found him in, it shouldn't have been too much of a surprise. Was a death the only way? And would he have been able to do it? To kill to save one of his friends? Would he? What if it had been Sheila?

A sudden lurch of fear gripped him, and he forced himself to think about something else.

Only going over that stupid argument with Cavalier earlier came close to banishing the thought of his Thief in trouble; and the pain turned to anger. It was obvious now, thinking back with the benefit of hindsight, that Eric had done it deliberately. Every sentence had been designed to make him angry, and to force them to go off without him.

Hank gave a small laugh. Things must be bad, if the Cavalier wanted time on his own!

His laughter stopped abruptly. Things must be really, really bad if Eric needed to be alone. There hadn't been many occasions when the Cavalier had shown any true weakness, and he'd never acted like this before. Well, he'd been arrogant, unbearable, annoying, callous and downright unpleasant before, but never so…

Hank tried to find the right word, and the only one that seemed to fit was "unhappy".

It was obvious to him now that the Cavalier was desperately unhappy.

At first glance, it was easy to see why. Only a few days before, he'd been poisoned by the Troglodyte and left for dead by his friends. Wasn't he entitled to be unhappy after an experience like that?

But that wasn't all, was it? For the past few weeks since they'd found the Box of Balefire, bad luck had dogged the Cavalier's steps. He could barely set foot in a new place without something going wrong. Was it such a surprise that he was so down about everything? Was it such a surprise that he was unhappy?

Guilt raised it head once more. Hank was the leader, he was responsible for all of them, through the rough and the smooth, through everything. Even if the Cavalier was insufferable, he was still one of the team.

Your decisions did this, Hank. Don't forget that. You're the leader.

Yes. His decisions. Some of them couldn't have been avoided, but he'd made a serious error leaving Eric behind in the Troglodyte Lair. He'd let his anger and his personal feelings override his common sense. He'd had a mistake, but it was Eric who'd paid the price.

He closed his eyes tightly, but it didn't help. Alone, his head still thumping like a badly played drum, he could imagine what it was like, left behind; left behind by his friends; left behind by his friends to die; left behind by Hank to die…

It was a relief to hear footsteps from outside the door.

Shaking, the Ranger stood up as the door opened. He flinched at the sudden change from darkness to light but he could still make out the figure of a man standing in the doorway. Any thought of escape quickly vanished when he saw the sharp sword that was pointing directly at him, so Hank stepped forward, out of the dark.

His guard was a thin, fair-haired man, barely matching him in height, dressed in hunting green with two more bright, sickle-shaped knives tucked into his belt. He let the Ranger adjust to the change is light before taking a tight grip on his arm and leading him slowly away from the cells, giving Hank ample time to look around. There was nothing much to see, at least to start with. The prison seemed to be at the back of a camp, and behind him were flat grasslands.

They passed more buildings, like huts but not made of wood. There were all the sights and sounds of camp life (a life he easily recognised now), and all around were people looking busy. It was surprising there were so many people, and for a few moments, Hank was going to call out for help. But they were dressed in a similar manner to his guard, and some of them waved in greeting as they passed, so Hank decided to play along for now, rather than risk an escape when there were so many enemies around.

After about five minutes, the buildings seemed to change. There was no more bustle and activity; this was a quiet, contemplative kind of place, similar in atmosphere to the late Guild of Wizards in Kilan. They walked on, their pace quickening, but as they went further, Hank could feel another change. The air was filled with charge, like he was standing in a massive electric field. But it was a different sort of power. It was magic, but magic the like of which he had never seen or felt. His skin prickled as he walked.

Finally, they reached a high wooden wall with an iron gate. From the other side there were rumbling noises and the distinctive smell of fire.

His Guard stopped at the gate, and waited. Hank could sense the uneasiness of the other man, and in spite of his current predicament, he was burning with curiosity about what was on the other side of the wall.

The scraping sound of a lock turning came from the other side. The guard stepped back as the door swung open, and with a parting glare from the other man, Hank was pushed through the gate into the compound beyond.

Dragons! As far as his eyes could see! The sight captured his whole attention. Dragons, everywhere!

He had never even imagined this number of dragons in one place before; there might even be thousands of them. The whole place was a blur of scales and wings, and smoke covered the ground in a thin haze. The cages were magic of some kind; the bars gleamed with a fiery orange glow and didn't seem to be made out of any material Hank had ever seen. Most of the Dragons were in the centre of their pens, staying away from the bars.

There were several kinds he didn't recognise, some with bright colours, some muted and grey. Close to the gate there was a small Mercury Dragon, zooming around its cage like a manic fly. Beside it was a great, grey Steel Dragon that scowled as he was escorted past. Just beyond the Steel Dragon, Hank could see a much smaller animal, a rose red, with delicate pink wings the colour of a Realm sunrise. It seemed to be asleep.

But he didn't get the chance to take a better look. Another Guard took him by the arm and lead him forward at a much brisker pace. He tried to look back, but a certain curiosity about where he was going won over.

Within a minute, he was approaching a large, crimson tent, with golden tassels hanging round the door. Another two guards were standing outside, dressed like the others in hunting green but armed with curved scimitars.

The tent seemed out of place, as if it had only been erected recently. It was a strange place to choose, as well, so close to the dragons and under the shadow of the wall. His natural curiosity was piqued, and he felt a cool thrill of excitement, even though everyone was armed except him.

The tent was luxuriously decorated inside; thick plush rugs of scarlet and green; golden chairs and tables with elaborate designs and scrollwork that marked them out as of the foremost craftsmanship; gold ornaments of prodigious size that seemed to bend the shelves they were standing on; and thin, translucent green curtains decorated with figures of dragons. In the centre was a low table with a golden censer that had a thin stream of white smoke curling out of it, filling the tent with the faint smell of violet and musk.

As he was escorted through the door, he saw a figure move behind one of the green curtains. A man, dressed in a long, dark robe with a hood, stepped out.

In his arms were the weapons.

His first thought was to rush the man, grab the weapons and find the others, but there were the other guards to consider, and he cold still feel the effects of his last encounter with them. Also, how was he ever going to…

Hank's breath caught sharply in the back of his throat, he could see his Bow and the Club, and the Hat, and the Javelin too, but that was all. No Shield; but much more importantly, no Cloak.

As if to reaffirm his observation, there were the sound of raised voices outside, and he recognised the angry tones of the Acrobat. He turned.

Sure enough, the three other young Ones and the unicorn were escorted into the tent with three more guards (also armed with shiny swords). To Hank's surprise, Diana made straight for him, a look of tender concern on her face. She reached up to touch his cheek gingerly. Close by, someone gasped.

'Hank! What did they do to you?' she asked.

It was the first time in a long while he'd though about what he must look like. He'd fought to keep his freedom, and that must have left signs. The thumping ache in his head was still there. Presto, Bobby and Uni all gathered round him too, and he smiled, hoping to reassure them.

'I'm OK,' he said gruffly. 'Must look worse that it feels.' He paused. 'Where's…?'

He didn't dare say her name, but he took a surreptitious glance towards the man with their weapons, and raised his eyebrows. Diana shrugged.

'We haven't seen anyone else, only the guards. They brought us straight here from the town. Do you know what's going on? All those Dragons!'

Hank shook his head, eyeing the man in the robes once more. If they made a rush for the weapons, they might be able to overpower him. Then he saw the guards watching him, hands resting on the hilts of the swords. He couldn't risk it. He was the leader and had to keep them safe. The Guards that were watching them would expect something like that.

'Are you all OK?' he asked. 'Tell me what happened.'

There didn't seem to be much to tell. They didn't really have the choice, once they knew it was their Ranger who was being held. Hank wondered if they'd done the same if it had been Eric, again, but he quickly dismissed the thought. There was too much else to think about, to start that again.

'That's it?' he said as she finished talking. 'Doesn't give us much of a clue!'

'Oh!' said Diana suddenly. 'But there was the shop, too! I'm sure there's a connection.'

'Shop?' asked Hank, a touch incredulously.

'It was a real creepy place,' said Presto. 'All it said on the front was "Supplies". But they wanted our weapons.' He cast a long glance across at the man, who was still holding them, silently. Hank followed the Magician's gaze.

'And now, I have them,' said a lilting voice from behind them.

Hank jumped at the sudden sound of the new voice, and whipped round. Standing in the doorway was another black-clad person, similar in shape and size to the other. But the Ranger knew this one was female from the tone of her voice.

The newcomer walked round, towards her friend with the weapons before turning and tipping her hood back.

The lady Hank saw was truly beautiful; perfection in every single way. She had long auburn tresses, the colour of gold touched by the rosy pink of dawn, and had small, dark green leaves threaded though as if she was wearing a crown. Her eyes were the colour of his own, a cool blue; her face was narrow, and her eyebrows slanted upwards, giving her a cold, superior expression. She was tall and slender like a young tree, with dark robes that seemed to give her a sweeping elegance.

He didn't speak. Her cold gaze swept slowly up from his scuffed and muddy boots, over his legs and armoured tunic to his shoulders and jaw-line and face. Then she looked into his eyes.

Hank had to look away after only a fraction of a second; but in that time he realised what she was: This Lady was an Elf!

Finally, after all this time in the Realm they had met one of the illusive Elves! They had heard whispers about them from time to time, the wondrous Elves of the Realm. Beautiful, clever, magical, always spoken of with awe. He'd always hoped to meet one, and knew Presto had too; he was such a big Fantasy fan. But the excitement was muted by the circumstances of their meeting. She was obviously in charge, and had captured them for a purpose. In the back of his mind, there was something uncomfortable, something not right. Elves are good creatures…aren't they?

The silence continued and he could feel the piercing stare still on him. He longed to look up and stare back at her, but the though of looking onto those cold eyes was not appealing.

'Welcome, Ranger. And welcome to you all.' Her voice was as cold as her gaze, and Hank felt less welcome than before she'd spoken. But politeness demanded that he respond, so he looked back in her direction, avoiding her eyes, and gave a slight, stilted bow.

'Where are the other young Heroes? The Cavalier. The Thief.'

The bluntness of the question took him by surprise, but the quixotic nature of the Elves was well known in the Realm. There was a stern air about her, as if she would tolerate no delay; and was doing them a small favour, at great inconvenience to herself, by asking it.

'I don't know,' he answered. She didn't seem to believe him, so he quickly took the opportunity to keep her talking. 'Who are you?'

The Elf look insulted that he didn't know and said:

'I am the High Priest of the Druids of Apsu. Where is the Cavalier, and the Thief?'

She seemed to be getting angry with him, but whether it was for asking questions, or not answering, he couldn't tell. In the back of his mind, Hank was vaguely hurt that Eric was named before Sheila, but that didn't change the answer.

'We don't know,' echoed Diana. 'We haven't seen them since the town.'

The Elf ignored her, and kept looking at Hank.

'What's goin' on?' demanded Bobby. 'Whaddya want with my sister?'

This time, the Elf did react, glaring at the Barbarian with such intensity that he seemed to stagger.

'I would have thought,' she said, lifting her gaze to address Hank once more, 'that it would be obvious. I want their weapons. In the town, they couldn't find your pretty little Thief. Or your Cavalier.' The way she spat the title out surprised him. It looked like someone else was angry with Eric too, but he couldn't understand why. 'When you came to the shop, I knew I could not let the opportunity for all six slip past.'

Diana gave Hank a small, rueful shrug, as if to apologise for going to the shop in the first place, and he smiled back with a nod. It wasn't her fault, or Presto's. This place; things like that always happened in this place!

'Why do you want our weapons?' he asked.

The woman smiled, as if she'd been awaiting that question. Her fist clenched and red fire was suddenly wreathed round it. By the baleful red light, the Elf looked even more radiant and powerful.

'You've taken their power!' whispered Presto. 'You've taken it all!'

Hank stared at the weapons. They didn't seem any different to him! But the ugly smile on the woman's face confirmed what Presto had said. There was the strangest feeling inside him as he looked at the Bow, as if he should be able just to call out to it and everything would be ok. It was his Bow; and for a moment he was almost going to march right up and take it back. It was wrong to have the weapons like that. He hated being without the Bow.

'I can do that, and much, much more,' said the Elf, staring at him. 'While I keep them, the magic belongs to me, to do with what I will! And I want the other weapons. Tell me where they are!'

'I've said, I don't know where they are,' replied Hank, fighting against the rising wave of fear and panic. They were weaponless. Again!

She pointed at him, and a bolt of red magic suddenly slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground. He slowly struggled upright with Presto and Diana helping him, not in pain but very disorientated, as if he'd just been awoken from a very deep sleep.

The Elf was watching them, almost daring him to repeat the answer.

'All the others have been seen in Dragorlin, except the Cavalier,' she said. 'Where is he? Where is your Cavalier?'

Why Eric? Why not Sheila… he thought. And what's happened to her?

The last time he'd seen her was after that kiss… that perfectly wonderful kiss. She said she would go back to the others. But she never got there. What happened to her?

'Your pretty little Thief could be anywhere,' said the High Priest, seeming to sense what he was thinking.. 'But there's little she can do. I'm more concerned about the Cavalier.'

The Ranger couldn't help the even more incredulous look he gave the Elf. This was stretching belief to the limit: Someone considered the Cavalier a threat? Why! It was unnerving to him that she dismissed Sheila so easily. She was the one who was more intelligent, more useful than the Cavalier. She was the strong one.

The Elf raised her hand once more.

Beside him, Diana started forward.

'We left him behind,' said the Acrobat, embarrassed. 'We left him in a clearing in the forest.'

'You left him behind?'

The question resonated with Hank. Yet again, he had left the Cavalier behind. Alone. When was he going to learn?

The woman had turned to her guard.

'Take all the Hunters! Search the forest and get the Shield away from him.'

With that statement, something clicked inside Hank. It wasn't the Cavalier, it was the Shield she was worried about! It was what Eric could do with the Shield! And that's why she didn't' really care that much about Sheila; the Cloak's invisibility only hid her; the Shield could be used to protect anyone! That was it!

And that was why she had drained the other weapons of their magic. She wanted to be sure they couldn't use them… Why? He had to figure out why! He looked at the Bow again. Was it his imagination, or was it trying to call out to him? Hank shook his head. He must be going nuts to think that!

He watched as the Guard gave a hasty bow and leave, and saw Diana and Presto exchanged anxious looks. For a moment, the Ranger was worried that she'd have them sent back the cells, but the Elf was ignoring them now, as if she had all the information she needed.

But Hank was thinking about their next move. These Druids collected Dragons, kept them locked up in magic cages. The weapons were from the Dragon's Graveyard. Perhaps that was enough to give them some advantage over the Elf. He wanted to talk to Diana and Presto, to see what they thought of his logic, but they were still being watched, and he had no doubt that the Elf would overhear. Instead, he tried to think up reasons why all the Dragons were in one place; how they were being kept; and what the High Priest was waiting for.

Then, quite suddenly, there was the sound of running from outside and a guard burst through the door. Hank's heart sank: They'd found the Shield.

'Mistress! Mistress!' the man gasped. 'The Dragon! She's been seen!'

Hank very nearly smiled. But he saw the look of both terror and excitement on the Elf's face, and the smile died on his lips.

Dragon? There was only one Dragon that could cause that reaction…

Tiamat: the Dragon Queen!

Some things never change, he thought.

Eric was feeling sick again. He was never going to eat dragonberries again in his life. Not only that, he was also feeling distinctly light-headed, as if he'd had too much caffeine or not enough sleep.

After creeping back from the cliff, he'd sat on the ground to think. The young Golden Dragon had curled up around him so he could lean back, its head resting on the Shield near his hand and its whiplash tail wriggling around like a snake in the grass.

The seat and the think hadn't helped. There didn't seem to be any way of helping, a bitter truth to acknowledge. There were hundred of Dragons down there, maybe even thousands. Even if he could find the other Golden Dragon, he would never be able to get it out; there seemed to be red, glowing bars holding the animals down. Those were magic bars, and there wasn't a lot he could do against those! The Club or the Bow would have worked, even the Hat or the Javelin. But the Shield wasn't gonna break them!

What was he going to do?

The Dragon had closed its eyes, and he petted it on the snout, surprised that something that could breath fire could be so cold. Funny, the things that happened in the Realm. When they'd first arrived here, he would never have thought that he would be sitting beside a big, sleepy dragon, quite happy and untroubled by the fact that it could easily have bitten him in two, if it wanted to.

He could remember the trip to the Giant's Castle very clearly, and the annoyance he'd felt at being lumbered with the huge golden egg. But later, as they waited until dawn, he'd been quite proud of the way the Mother Dragon had regarded him as an equal. It had felt good to have someone (are dragons someones?) look at him like that. He'd felt bad having to leave, even though he'd rather have died than admit that to the others. The baby Dragons had been kind of cute!

Now, it trusted him to help. It expected him to do something. And soon! What was he going to do?

Suddenly, with an unnatural speed and ferocity, the Dragon's head snapped up, its eyes glinting and a whisper of smoke at its nostrils. It froze in an alert position so, in spite of his surprise, Eric stayed still too, and waited.

For more than a minute, he waited, hardly breathing. He couldn't hear or see anything out of the ordinary. Then there came the faint sound of something moving through the trees, the swish of branches and the occasional soft crack of a stick.

Someone had followed them.

As the noise came closer, Eric moved to pick up the Shield. Still the Dragon waited. But its expression was different, not so alarmed as surprised.

Then there was a tired gasp from the trees.

'Eric! Oh, Eric, thank goodness I've found you!'

Sheila was standing there, pulling the hood of her Cloak back, and looking exhausted and unsteady. He hauled himself off the ground as quickly as possible and moved forward. She didn't faint, as he'd thought, but instead she fell into his arms crying like there was no tomorrow. For a long while she kept crying, unable to explain coherently what was going on. All the time a cold, empty fear grew inside the Cavalier. Something had happened. Something bad. Something really bad. Something really, really bad. Something terrible…

'Hey,' he said eventually, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. 'What's happened? It can't be that bad?'

She looked up, the expression on her face almost breaking his heart. What a damn stupid thing to go and say!

'Hank's been… hurt,' she whispered, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

Of all the thing she could have said, that was one of the most painful. He winced as he thought back to the argument earlier. He shouldn't have been so pig-headed, or deliberately picked a fight with Hank. He should have tried to be a bit nicer. It wasn't Hank's fault that everyone hated him, he had just been in the line of fire.

If you'd been with us, this wouldn't have happened. That's what she was thinking. He'd gone and screwed up. Yet again! How many more times would they keep forgiving him for messing things up?

It was stupid, but he couldn't help it; tears prickled in the back of his eyes. He'd made a real mess of things this time, and now the others would never forgive him for letting them all down. Why did he keep doing this?

Sheila's desperate expression forced those thoughts away. Somehow, he had to pull himself together enough to help.

'Tell me what happened?' he asked.

'We were attacked in the Town,' she said dabbing her eyes dry with a corner of the Cloak. 'It had seemed so nice and peaceful. We split up. Hank and I went for a walk… together.' The pause between the last two words was significant enough to let him know that they hadn't just been "walking".

'And…?'

'We split up after… awhile,' she said. 'I started back towards the town square to meet the others, but I changed my mind and went to look for him. But when I saw him…' she sniffed again. 'He was surrounded by these people in robes and…'

From behind him, there was a sharp hiss.

'Druid-type robes?' asked Eric.

Sheila nodded.

'Yes, they had to drag him off, he fought and… and… they hit him. I saw blood... and... I ran to get help from the others, but there was a man there too, and they were already leaving. So I came to find you.'

'As a last resort?' He didn't say it with bitterness, but Sheila's cheeks coloured slightly.

'As the only one who can help,' she said. 'Unless Dungeonmaster appears and…'

'Forget him!' Eric told her. 'He's not gonna show up and get us out of this. You should know that by now!'

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but didn't say anything, perhaps because she knew he was right. Instead, the Thief glanced down at the ground then back up, towards the Golden Dragon, who'd stood watching the exchange with great interest.

'I was so worried when I got to the clearing and you weren't there,' she said. 'I didn't know what to think.'

I thought you'd left us, was what she really meant, he knew but he was grateful she didn't say it. He was embarrassed and ashamed enough as it was.

'Well, I bumped into an old friend,' he said, smiling at the Golden Dragon. 'C'mere and say "Hi"!'

The creature obediently moved forward and dunted Sheila's hand when she held it out.

'It's lost its brother and wanted my help,' he explained. 'Some weirdo Druids have been kidnapping dragons, the same weirdo Druids that got Hank and the others, I think. How many weirdo Druids can there be around here, anyway!'

'So they have Hank and the others, and her brother. What are we gonna do?'

Eric said nothing, the familiar panic beginning in his chest. This was all going to go wrong. Desperately, he thought back to what Dungeonmaster had told them: You will face a test of Strength, but a trial of weakness. How could that possibly help? He forced a smile out.

'Looks like it's gonna be Eric and Sheila to the rescue. Again.'

Sheila managed to smile back.

'And don't forget her!' said the Thief, petting the Dragon once more.

'Uh?' Her? Above the panic, the usual embarrassment grew. He'd done it again.

'She's a "she", not an "it", Eric!' explained Sheila.

'Well, of course, naturally, I knew, but…' he spluttered, his face flushed.

The young Dragon was looking at him, "her" expression exactly matching that of Sheila.

'Oh, crap!' he said at last. 'You two are gonna gang up on me! Can my day get any worse?'

There was a pause as Eric and Sheila stared at each other, but the words were out now. Above was the soft swish of wind, and they all looked up.

Tiamat soared overhead.

'You just had to say it!' whispered Sheila.