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or thirty draykoni would flee the
field on the mere appearance of one machine. There had to be some
other explanation.
    But what could it
be? They might have taken their attack somewhere else; another city
in Glinnery, perhaps, or even Glour. But all their might had so far
been levelled at Waeverleyne. Why would they leave that conquest
unfinished, and move on to another?
    Aysun feared that
this sudden departure was bad news indeed, far worse than any of
them knew. But it was impossible to guess what might have motivated
their enemy.
    ‘ Right,’ he said. ‘We make the most of this time. We’ll start
working in shifts, so some of us can sleep, but I want at least ten
of those machines ready before the draykoni come back.’
    ‘ But
they could come back at any time,’ somebody said, in a voice of
bewilderment.
    ‘ Yes,’
Aysun said. ‘I know. We’d better work fast, hm?’
     
     
     

Chapter Two
     
    Trapped somewhere
under the weight of her dreams, Llandry Sanfaer was unable to wake.
Her conscious mind had been thoroughly subdued and her dream-self
refused to release it.
    This fact did not
trouble Llandry overmuch. In fact, she had never felt less troubled
in her life. It seemed to her that she occupied a perfect world,
her dreams so full of tranquil colour that she never wished to
leave. Her mamma was there, healed and well and restored to her
usual beloved self. Papa was with her as well, and Sigwide of
course. Their house had become an island, floating high over the
glittering glissenwol forests of her home, the realm of Glinnery.
Up there the weather was always beautiful and the air sweet, and no
hint of trouble could reach them.
    Some small part
of her knew that her mind lied. She felt the perilous weight of
care and trouble and harm that hung poised over her life, felt it
as a distant shadow that threatened her perfect happiness. All her
strength of will was gone, drained away while she lay insensate day
after day. There was only the weak and frightened part of her soul,
and that part of her only fled harder from the threat of
disaster.
    And so she
floated quietly along in her beautiful dream and time wandered
past. She felt that she had a guardian, some silent but immoveable
presence that watched over her idyllic existence and kept all
dangers far from her. This presence had never said a word, and she
had never seen the particular form that it took; but she knew that
it - he - was always there.
    Only one day the
presence developed a voice. It whispered her name, over and over
again until she wanted to scream. The voice grew steadily louder
and more insistent, shattering her peace. Then her guardian began
to pull at her, tugging with invisible hands, bruising her skin in
his eagerness to tear her away from her parents. She felt he would
cast her over the edge of her island paradise and she would fall so
many miles to the ground. There, of course, she would die. Hurt and
bewildered and frightened by her guardian’s betrayal, she
fought.
    But he was much
stronger than she. She had known it all along: therein lay the
reason for her profound feeling of safety. As long as her guardian
watched over her, all would be well. But when his strength and
power were turned against her, she could not long resist. She tried
to cling to the soft summer sun that shone on her little island,
the clear skies and gentle breeze, her smiling parents and Sigwide
asleep in her lap. She screamed her fury as she was dragged
inexorably backwards, away from the parents who continued to smile,
oblivious, as she was brought to the edge of the precipice and then
cast, still screaming, over the side.
    She fell, a long,
long way. Her precious island receded rapidly until it dwindled to
a mere speck in the endless skies. She continued to fall for so
long she began to wonder if she would do so forever; perhaps there
was no ground in this strange place. And so the impact, when it
finally came, took her by surprise.
    Agony flared, for
a brief,