‘Have we got time for a magic lesson?’ Lug asked Elowen. ‘You said you would teach me.’

Elowen nodded and clambered down to talk to him. Liska took the chance to steal her perch. She let her cloak stream out behind her as she clung to Embla’s shoulder, breathing in the scents of dry sand and baked rock. As she watched the wastes, keeping an eye out for wyverns or Poxpunks, she caught snatches of Elowen’s advice.

‘. . . and so the light trees draw up the energy we call magic from the core below. Then it leaks out, being stronger the closer you are to the tree. Which is why the most powerful mages are the ones that live next to it. But that’s just laziness, really. The magic is there, deep beneath the ground, and anyone can draw on it if they can tune themselves properly.’

‘So vermispexes don’t have to be the weakest?’

‘Not if they know how to feel the power below them.’

‘But how can you do that? All I can sense in the ground is worms.’

‘You already do it a bit just by using magic. And carrying the heart for so long should have made you a much better channel for energy. All you have to do is learn to sense it. Here, I can show you some exercises . . .’

They went on for what seemed like hours, talking about spells and gestures, currents of power, shapes of force . . . Liska lost interest quite quickly. The only magic she needed was the cloak on her back and the fox shape hidden in her blood.

Instead, she watched the skies, blue and empty – until she saw a winged silhouette circling them high above.

‘Uh-oh,’ she said, pointing upwards. ‘I think we’ve been spotted.’

Everyone looked skywards. ‘Is it a wyvern?’ Fishbone asked.

‘I think so,’ said Liska. ‘It’s dropping lower.’

As the dark shape came closer, they could see it was, indeed, a wyvern. Gliding on leathery wings, tail and hind legs stretched out behind it.

Nearer and nearer it came, closing on its prey, until they could see the shimmer of sunlight on its purple scales.

‘I think . . .’ Lug said, shading his eyes with his hand. ‘It is! It’s Myrtle!’

They all whooped and cheered as the wyvern flew so low it almost skimmed their heads. It banked, showing them a gleaming eye, and puffed out a small cloud of flame as a greeting.

‘Myrtle! Hello girl!’ Lug shouted, the happiest Liska had seen him since they left Arborven. ‘Follow us to the mountains! I can’t wait to show you to everyone!’

Liska thought that most of the mages would be less than pleased to see a fire-breathing wyvern up close, but she kept that to herself. She just hoped they would give Lug a chance to explain before they filled poor Myrtle with spears and arrows.

*