Then the battle was right in front of them, and they could see the armies clashing at the head of a pass that was undoubtedly Aphalion. Elves and Drouj were locked in a terrible struggle, and bodies already lay scattered across a landscape where blood ran in bright crimson streams.

The magic flared once more and died, leaving Panterra and Phryne openmouthed with horror.

“I have to go there!” she said at once, turning toward him, despair and shock twisting her features. “I have to help them!”

She was already moving away in a swift walk as she dropped the Elfstones in their pouch. “Hurry, Pan!”

He rushed to catch up, taking a quick look about as he did so, an automatic response to a sudden decision that took them ahead so recklessly. It was a pivotal moment. As he scanned earth and sky in all directions, sharp-eyed and suspicious, he saw the black dot. It was so far away that for a moment he almost missed it. But within seconds it had grown much larger against the blue of the sky. It was moving toward them, and it was coming quickly.

“Phryne!” he called out in warning.

She swung back, slowing but not stopping, confusion replacing determination on her face. “What is it? Pan, why are you…”

Then she saw it. It was much closer now, close enough that it was taking shape, the particulars of its fierce features revealed. Phryne stood where she was, whether in shock or awe, Pan couldn’t tell. He thought to run to her, to pull her back, to try to find a place for them to hide. But there was no point. They were standing in open country devoid of hiding places. They were exposed on the crest of a hill, visible for miles to anything with good eyes, and Pan was certain beyond any doubt that the eyesight of the creature coming toward them was excellent.

“Pan!”

He heard her call out his name in something of a gasp, but he could not tell if it was a summons or an exclamation of some emotion he could not fathom.

Then, its great wings spread, its long neck angled forward, and its huge clawed feet outstretched, the dragon reached them and began to descend.

Chapter Twenty-three

“I DON’T THINK THEY’RE RETURNING THIS WAY,” XAC Wen said.

Prue, sitting off to one side, her back resting against the stones of the Belloruusian Arch, did not reply. She was ragged and dirty, her clothes stained and rumpled, her face smudged with dust and streaked with tears of rage and frustration. It was nearing dawn, and she had been sitting there all night with the boy, waiting for Pan to reappear.