Still the carp circled round and round. Was that a sign? Storm’s lungs began to hurt. In a few more heartbeats she would be forced to surface. Far above, she thought she saw something move in the moonlit air: a reddish glimmer.

Storm tried to clear her mind and let the music of water flow into her. Slowly at first, then more easily, Water-music filtered into her mind until she felt shining-full of its mysterious beauty. She had an image of herself, glowing white-gold like the carp.

Storm submerged herself in the bitter-sweet beauty of Water’s slippery, tricksy nature. Almost, she felt she could grasp some meaning … understand a fragment of its elemental pattern. She took hold of the single thread of the pattern she had seen, and began carefully to weave a small waterspout around her. The water at the bottom of the pond began to rotate. The hardest part was keeping the surface of the little lake still. She must trick her enemy into thinking she was dead. That Fire had won…

Now! Storm let the water take her. She rose inside the eye of the spout as it exploded to the surface, draining the lake. Storm stood motionless in the centre of the waterspout as it whirled around her. Her head was level with the tallest tree branches. She peered through the streaming wall of water full of weeds, small stones and hapless fish, looking for her enemy.

A red-clothed figure writhed on the ground a dozen paces from shore. The woman pushed to her feet, shrieking curses. She was drenched with water, plastered with mud, her silk tunic ruined, her plaits dripping. The witch raised clenched fists towards the waterspout. A bolt of flame shot from the woman’s hands. Storm smelt heat and burning, felt the fire bolt strike the spout.

The water wall around her shuddered and Storm lurched downwards, arms and legs clawing at nothing. Steam rose into the air along with a fierce hissing, as though of a giant serpent. Storm found enough breath to scream once, then the water caught hold once more and buoyed her up. Quickly, before the enemy could strike again, she lashed out with a whip of icy water. It hit the Fire-witch with a sound like a lightning strike, and the woman flew through the air and crashed into some bushes.

The enemy was now too far away to be fought with water. Storm released the waterspout, leaping on to the ground as it sank back into the lake, and readied her Air-magic.

She ran towards the figure she could see pushing itself upright. As she ran, Storm sent a wind swirling low and fierce. The wind caught the Fire-witch just as the woman turned and raised her fists again. Storm felt a moment’s respect for her enemy’s toughness, and considerable fear. If her Air-magic failed her, she would die.