“Any thoughts on this, bosun?” D’Averc asked.

The bosun shook his head and addressed Hawkmoon. “The men say that whatever happens, sir, they are yours. They will die in your service if necessary.”

“They’re in a gloomy mood, I gather,” smiled D’Averc. “Well, who’s to blame them?”

“Who indeed, sir.” The bosun’s round, honest face looked despairing. “Shall I give the order to sail on, sir?”

“It would be better than waiting here while the stuff closes in,” Hawkmoon said. “Let go the sails, bosun.”

The bosun shouted orders and men began to climb through the rigging, letting down the sails and securing their lines. Gradually the sails filled and the ship began to move, seemingly reluctantly, towards the strange cliffs of clouds.

Yet even as they moved forward, the cliffs began to swirl and become agitated. Other, darker colours crept in and a wailing noise drifted towards the ship from all sides. The crew could barely contain its panic, many men standing frozen in the rigging as they watched. Hawkmoon peered forward anxiously.

Then, instantly, the walls had vanished!

Hawkmoon gasped.

Calm sea lay on all sides. Everything was as before. The crew began to cheer, but Hawkmoon noticed that D’Averc’s face was bleak. Hawkmoon, too, felt that perhaps the danger was not past. He waited, poised at the rail.

Then from the sea erupted a huge beast.

The crew’s cheers changed to screams of fear.

Other beasts began to emerge all around them. Gigantic, reptilian monsters with gaping red jaws and triple rows of teeth, the water streaming from their scales and their blazing eyes full of mad, rolling evil.

There was a deafening flapping noise and one by one the giant reptiles climbed into the air.

“We are done for, Hawkmoon,” said D’Averc philosophically as he drew his sword. “It’s a pity not to have had one last sight of Castle Brass, nor one last kiss from the lips of those women we love.”

Hawkmoon barely heard him. He was full of bitterness at the fate which had decided he should meet his end in this wet and lonely place. Now none would know where or how he had died…

Chapter Four

Orland Fank

THE SHADOWS OF the gigantic beasts swept back and forth over the deck and the noise of their wings filled the air. Looking upwards in cold detachment as a monster dropped towards him, its maw distended the Duke of Koln knew his life had ended. But then the monster had soared again, having snapped once at the high mast.

Nerves tense, muscles taut, Dorian Hawkmoon drew the Sword of the Dawn, the blade which no other man could wield and live. Even this supernatural broadsword would be useless against the dreadful beasts; they need not even attack the crew directly, need only strike the ship a few blows to send those aboard to the bottom.