As she ran, she drew more and more air to her. The light above the tavern began to sway wildly, illuminating a chaos of terror as drinkers and passers-by ran for their lives. The night was full of screams and wails. One of the guards that had come to arrest Mer ran past, shouting, sword raised. She heard his death cry as fire licked forward, hungry. The other guard retreated, frantically notching an arrow to her bow.

The witch will only burn the shafts in mid-air. Storm reached the edge of the square. By some instinct, she swerved suddenly, and the house that had been in front of her only a breath before burst into flames.

No space. No time. Albatross! Aid me. The Dolphin could not help. The Tortoise would help if it felt it necessary, no doubt. And the fact that the ground did not shift beneath her feet gave Storm courage. The Earth spirit wasn’t intervening, which meant it had faith in her magic. She could defeat the Salamander’s agent if she was brave enough. If she believed…

A guard had just died because of her. Storm turned to face the Fire-witch.

The woman was standing at the centre of the square. Fire danced in her long hair, flowed down her arms to drip like molten lava on to the pavement at her feet. Fire raged inside the witch’s body – she stood like a human sun illuminating the night.

The Fire-witch laughed as she saw Storm turn. She raised both her clenched fists, pointed them at her prey.

“This will stop!” Storm roared, and her open mouth released the wind-blast of her anger and fear, channelling it as well as she could without the flute. Wind poured out of her mouth, fierce as a typhoon, cold as frost. Unforgiving as the ever-ice on the high mountains, Storm’s battering ram of wind flew at the Fire-witch.

It met the fireball head on. For less than the time than it takes for a cling-monkey’s heart to beat once, the two forces struggled, neither making way. Still Storm screamed her anger. Her teeth ached from cold. She lost feeling in her hands and feet, then her legs. Ice formed on her body, crawled up her arms and legs, froze her hair. She saw it creep down her forehead towards her eyes until it glazed them over and the Fire-witch was only an orange glow on the other side of a cocoon of ice. The pain of the cold was so intense her scream was now one of agony.

And then, with a loud, vibrating boom that shattered the ice covering Storm’s eyes, the wind she had magicked swallowed the fireball and rushed on towards the witch. Storm watched the woman cry out, cower on the ground. She saw a dome of fire cover the crouching figure like a shield. Then the fire-dome and the witch were engulfed by the wind and swept away.