The open field was where the desert warriors fought best, and as Prince Ilathor's deadline for the scout's return approached and then passed, he signalled his captains and launched his mighty army into action. The infantry and Petryan elementalists were to stay behind; they couldn't keep up with the horsemen, and of the Petryans only Shani was comfortable on a horse.

"Stay back, Ella," the prince commanded, as he spurred his black stallion into action, determined to be at the forefront of the attack.

Seeing her friends in the line, Ella ignored the prince and joined Shani, Bartolo, and Jehral, keeping her horse close by her red-robed friend.

Ella had to admit she was impressed, even exhilarated, to be travelling with such an army, imagining the fear that the lightning, storms and the horses themselves must strike into the enemy's hearts.

Yet as the air was filled with the thunder of hooves on the hard earth, the temperature suddenly dropped, giving Ella a premonition that something terrible was about to happen. Ella gripped her reins tightly in her hands, her knees pressed hard into the horse's flanks.

Ella saw that her breath was steaming in the chill air; surely such a rapid decrease in temperature wasn't natural?

The ground before her rose in a steep incline. Ahead, the thundering mass of riders crested the rise in front of her and then vanished under the hill as the warriors went down the other side. As the steepness increased Ella leaned forward in the saddle and spurred her horse on, realising she had lost sight of Jehral and only Shani and Bartolo were with her now.

Ella reached the crest and the vista opened up before her. An army such as the world had never seen raced down the hill: horses' hooves thundered, desert warriors raised scimitars above their heads, and lightning crashed around them so that the Hazarans must appear to be flying out of a storm that a moment ago had simply not been there.

Ella could now see the grey banner flying over the tightly-formed ranks of their enemy, with the opposing soldiers arranged into three columns. In the centremost column pikes could be seen rising up into the air, while the first dozen ranks held theirs bristled in front. The column to the left consisted of heavily-armoured men and women in grey tabards, each holding a sword or an axe. On the right was a smaller column of warriors with maces, while half a dozen men in silver robes clustered at the rear.

Ella knew something was terribly, desperately wrong. They were too disciplined; too motionless. Surely no one faced an attack like this without some men breaking.

The grey-clad axemen and swordsmen all held their weapons in the air, moving in perfect synchronisation. The pikemen braced themselves, grim and unwavering. One of the silver-robed men raised his arms in the air, as if summoning powerful magic.