Firestorm by Mark Robson Page A

you now,’ Kasau breathed, pleasure coursing through his tired body. ‘Your glowing hide won’t save you this time.’
    They had pushed the horses to the limit, riding with minimal breaks throughout the day and on through the night. Despite the bright, starlit sky, the going was slow once darkness fell. Even at a
walk it took only a single unfortunate step for a horse to fall lame, or worse.
    Some of the hunters had questioned the sense of taking such risks, but Kasau brushed aside their concerns and pushed them on. He knew this was likely to be their last opportunity to kill the
dawn dragon before she and her rider flew beyond their ability to catch up. The hunters were all in position. The signal had been given. Each of them was armed with a weapon tipped with dragonhorn,
the only substance hard enough to penetrate a dragon’s scales with ease. Dragonhunters of old had hunted with swords and spears made of metal and stone. The chances of surviving an encounter
with weapons of such materials were negligible. This was why successful hunters from past eras were revered so highly.
    Kasau crept forwards through the dew-soaked grass, his spear held ready. The warm, moist air filled his nose with the heady scent of the savannah as the eastern sky lightened with every passing
minute. The dawn chorus was building, a blend of birdsong adding to the constant cacophony of insect and amphibian noises. They were cutting it fine. He wanted to strike before the sun peered over
the horizon to prevent the dawn dragon from gaining access to her full powers. If camouflaged, the dusk dragon would be difficult to locate in the half-light, but the men had been well briefed on
the telltale signs to look for.
    He looked to his left. Some distance away he could just make out a shadowy figure, spear in hand, easing through the long grass. A glance to his right revealed another silhouette, more obvious
this time, but making no discernible noise. The circle was tightening. In just a few more minutes the dragons would be theirs for the taking.
    ‘Damn!’ Elian swore. ‘They’re all around us. There’s no way out. What shall we do?’
    ‘There’s always a way out, Elian. The trick is to know where to look for it. Fang, I’m going to form a gateway right in front of you, if I can. Get ready. It will be hard
for me to hold it for more than a heartbeat or two as the sun is not quite at the horizon. Are you up to a very short flight . . . ? Good
. . .
You know what to look for. Don’t
hesitate
. .
. I’ll follow you.’
    Hearing Ra’s side of the conversation she was having with Fang was strange. Elian felt as if he were eavesdropping, yet he knew that Ra wanted him to hear her words.
    ‘A gateway?’ he asked softly. ‘What sort of gateway? What’s going on, Ra?’
    ‘Would you mind letting me in on what’s happening?’ Kira’s whisper was full of frustration.
    ‘There’s no time to explain, Elian. Hold on tight and tell Kira to do the same. You might find this a little unsettling. Ready, Fang? Go!’
    Elian heard Longfang launch forwards. The first down-sweep of his great wings made a loud, distinctive whooshing noise.
    ‘Hang on, Kira. I think this is going to be a rough ride,’ he advised her.
    A heartbeat later Ra leaped forwards, her explosive acceleration rocking Elian back in his saddle. He instinctively glanced over his shoulder to make sure Kira was still behind him. She was
– clinging grimly to the ridge in front of her.
    Elian could feel Ra’s intense concentration. Adrenaline surged in his stomach. She was reaching out with her mind. Whatever she was doing was not easy. They were charging at high speed
towards the easternmost hunters. The spears would start flying any heartbeat. What was she thinking of? A straight charge would be little less than suicide.
    When the gateway opened, Elian sensed it, rather than saw it. His fleeting impression was of a great rent in the fabric of reality – a ghostly grey