The Lure of the Wyrm

It was called the Wyrmberg and it rose almost one half of a mile above the green valley; a mountain huge, grey and upside down.

At its base it was a mere score of yards across. Then it rose through clinging cloud, curving gracefully outward like an upturned trumpet until it was truncated by a plateau fully a quarter of a mile across. There was a tiny forest up there, its greenery cascading over the lip. There were buildings. There was even a small river, tumbling over the edge in a waterfall so wind-whipped that it reached the ground as rain.

There were also a number of cave mouths, a few yards below the plateau. They had a crudely-carved, regular look about them, so that on this crisp autumn morning the Wyrmberg hung over the clouds like a giant's dovecote.

This would mean that the " doves" had a wingspan slightly in excess of forty yards.

" I knew it, " said Rincewind. " We're in a strong magical field. "

Twoflower and Hrun looked around the little hollow where they had made their noonday halt. Then they looked at each other.

The horses were quietly cropping the rich grass by the stream. Yellow butterflies skittered among the bushes. There was a smell of thyme and a buzzing of bees. The wild pigs on the spit sizzled gently.

Hrun shrugged and went back to oiling his biceps. They gleamed.

" Looks alright to me, " he said.

" Try tossing a coin, " said Rincewind.

" What? "

" Go on. Toss a coin. "

" Hokay, " Said Hrun. " if it gives you any pleasure. "

He reached into his pouch and withdrew a handful of loose change plundered from a dozen realms.

With some care he selected a Zchloty leaden quarter-iotum and balanced it on a purple thumbnail.

" You call, " he said. " Heads or-" he inspected the obverse with an air of intense concentration, " some sort of a fish with legs. "

" When it's in the air, " said Rincewind. Hrun grinned and flicked his thumb. The iotum rose, spinning.

" Edge, " said Rincewind, without looking at it.

Magic never dies. It merely fades away.

Nowhere was this more evident on the wide blue expanse of the Discworld than in those areas that had been the scene of the great battles of the Mage Wars, which had happened very shortly after Creation. In those days magic in its raw state had been widely available, and had been eagerly utilized by the First Men in their war against the Gods.

The precise origins of the Mage Wars have been lost in the fogs of Time, but disc philosophers agree that the First Men, shortly after their creation, understandably lost their temper. And great and pyrotechnic were the battles that followed - the sun wheeled across the sky, the seas boiled, weird storms ravaged the land, small white pigeons mysteriously appeared in people's clothing, and the very stability of the disc (carried as it was through space on the backs of four giant turtle-riding elephants) was threatened. This resulted in stern action by the Old High Ones, to whom even the Gods themselves are answerable. The Gods were banished to high places, men were re-created a good deal smaller, and much of the old wild magic was sucked out of the earth.

That did not solve the problem of those places on the disc which, during the wars, had suffered a direct hit by a spell. The magic faded away slowly, over the millenia, releasing as it decayed myriads of sub-astral particles that severely distorted the reality around it...

Rincewind, Twoflower and Hrun stared at the coin.

" Edge it is, " said Hrun. " Well, you're a wizard. So what? "

" I don't do - that sort of spell. "

" You mean you can't. "

Rincewind ignored this, because it was true. " Try it again, " he suggested.

Hrun pulled out a fistful of coins.

The first two landed in the usual manner. So did the fourth. The third landed on its edge and balanced there. The fifth turned into a small yellow caterpillar and crawled away. The sixth, upon reaching its zenith, vanished with a sharp " spang! "

A moment later there was a small thunder clap.

" Hey, that one was silver, " exclaimed Hrun, rising to his feet and staring upwards. " Bring it back! "

" I don't know where it's gone, said Rincewind wearily. " it's probably still accelerating. The ones I tried this morning didn't come down, anyway. "

Hrun was still staring into the sky.

" What? " said Twoflower.

Rincewind sighed. He had been dreading this.

" We’ve strayed into a zone with a high magical index, " he said. " Don't ask me how. Once upon a time a really powerful magic field must have been generated here, and we're feeling the after-effects. "

" Precisely, " said a passing bush.

Hrun's head jerked down.

" You mean this is one of those places? " he asked.

" Let's get out of here! "

" Right, " agreed Rincewind. " if we retrace our steps we might make it. We can stop every mile or so and toss a coin. "

He stood up urgently and started stuffing things into his saddlebags.

" What? " said Twoflower.

Rincewind stopped. " Look, " he snapped. " Just don't argue. Come on. "

" It looks alright, " said Twoflower. " Just a bit underpopulated that's all... "

" Yes, " said Rincewind. " Odd, isn't it? Come on! "

There was a noise high above them, like a strip of leather being slapped on a wet rock. Something glassy and indistinct passed over Rincewind's head, throwing up a cloud of ashes from the fire, and the pig carcass took off from the spit and rocketed into the sky.

It banked to avoid a clump of trees, righted itself, roared around in a tight circle, and headed hubwards leaving a trail of hot pork-fat droplets.

" What are they doing now? " asked the old man.

The young woman glanced at the scrying glass. " Heading rimwards at speed, " she reported. " By the way - they’ve still got that box on legs. "

The old man chuckled, an oddly disturbing sound in the dark and dusty crypt. " Sapient pearwood, " he said. " Remarkable. Yes, I think we will have that. Please see to it, my dear - before they go beyond your power, perhaps? "

" Silence! Or-"

" Or what, Liessa? " said the old man (in this dim light there was something odd about the way he was slumped in the stone chair). " You killed me once already, remember? "

She snorted and stood up, tossing back her hair scornfully. It was red, flecked with gold. Erect, Liessa Wyrmbidder was entirely a magnificent sight. She was also almost naked, except for a couple of mere scraps of the lightest chain mail and riding boots of iridescent dragonhide. In one boot was thrust a riding crop, unusual in that it was as long as a spear and tipped with tiny steel barbs.

" My power will be quite sufficient, " she said.

The indistinct figure appeared to nod, or at least to wobble. " So you keep assuring me, " he said.

Liessa snorted, and strode out of the hall.

Her father did not bother to watch her go. One reason for this was, of course, that since he had been dead for three months his eyes were in any case not in the best of condition. The other was that as a wizard - even a dead wizard of the fifteenth grade, his optic nerves had long since become attuned to seeing into levels and dimensions far removed from common reality, and were therefore somewhat inefficient at observing the merely mundane. (During his life they had appeared to others to be eight-faceted and eerily insectile. ) Besides, since he was now suspended in the narrow space between the living world and the dark shadow-world of Death he could survey the whole of Causality itself. That was why, apart from a mild hope that this time his wretched daughter would get herself killed, he did not devote his considerable powers to learning more about the three travellers galloping desperately out of his realm.

Several hundred yards away, Liessa was in a strange humour as she strode down the worn steps that led into the hollow heart of the Wyrmberg followed by half a dozen Riders. Would this be the opportunity? Perhaps here was the key to break the deadlock, the key to the throne of the Wyrmberg. It was rightfully hers, of course; but tradition said that only a man could rule the Wyrmberg. That irked Liessa, and when she was angry the Power flowed stronger and the dragons were especially big and ugly.

If she had a man, things would be different Someone who, for preference, was a big strapping lad but short on brains. Someone who would do what he was told.

The biggest of the three now fleeing the dragonlands might do. And if it turned out that he wouldn't, then dragons were always hungry and needed to be fed regularly. She could see to it that they got ugly.

Uglier than usual, anyway.

The stairway passed through a stone arch and ended in a narrow ledge near the roof of the great cavern where the Wyrms roosted.

Sunbeams from the myriad entrances around the walls cries-crossed the dusty gloom like amber rods in which a million golden insects had been preserved. Below, they revealed nothing but a thin haze. Above...

The walking rings started so close to Liessa's head that she could reach up and touch one. They stretched away in their thousands across the upturned acres of the cavern roof. It had taken a score of masons a score of years to hammer the pitons for all those, hanging from their work as they progressed. Yet they were as nothing compared to the eighty-eight major rings that clustered near the apex of the dome. A further fifty had been lost in the old days, as they were swung into place by teams of sweating slaves (and there had been slaves aplenty, in the first days of the Power) and the great rings had gone crashing into the depths, dragging their unfortunate manipulators with them.

But eighty-eight had been installed, huge as rainbows, rusty as blood. From them the dragons sense Liessa's presence. Air swishes around the cavern as eighty-eight pairs of wings unfold like a complicated puzzle. Great heads with green, multi-faceted eyes peer down at her. The beasts were still faintly transparent. While the men around her take their hookboots from the rack. Liessa bends her mind to the task of full visualisation; about her in the musty air the dragons become fully visible, bronze scales dully reflecting the sunbeam shafts. Her mind throbs, but now that the Power is flowing fully she can, with barely a wander of concentration, think of other things.

Now she too buckles on the hookboots and turns a graceful cartwheel to bring their hooks, with a faint clung, against a couple of the walking rings in the ceiling.

Only now it is the floor. The world has changed. Now she is standing on the edge of a deep bowl or crater, floored with the little rings across which the dragonriders are already strolling with a pendulum grit. In the centre of the bowl their huge mounts wait among the herd. Far above are the distant rocks of the cavern floor, discoloured by centuries of dragon droppings.

Moving with the easy gliding movement that is second nature Liessa sets off towards her own dragon, Laolith, who turns his great horsey head towards her. His jowls are greasy with pork fat. It was very enjoyable, he says in her mind.

" I thought I said there were to be no unaccompanied flights? " she snaps.

I was hungry, Liessa.

" Curb your hunger. Soon there will be horses to eat. "

The reins stick in our teeth. Are there any warriors? We like warriors.

Liessa swings down the mounting ladder and lands with her legs locked around Laolith's leathery neck.

" The warrior is mine. There are a couple of others you can have. One appears to be a wizard of sorts, " she adds by way of encouragement.

Oh, you know how it is with wizards. Half an hour afterwards you could do with another one, the dragon grumbles.

He spreads his wings and drops.

" They're gaining, " screamed Rincewind. He bent even lower over his horse's neck and groaned. Twoflower was trying to keep up while at the same time craning round to look at the flying beasts.

" You don't understand! " screamed the tourist, above the terrible noise of the wingbeats. " All my life I've wanted to see dragons! "

" From the inside? " shouted Rincewind. " Shut up and ride! " He whipped at his horse with the reins and stared at the woods ahead, trying to drag it closer by sheer willpower. Under those trees they'd be safe. Under those trees no dragons could fly... He heard the clap of wings before shadows folded around him. Instinctively he rolled in the saddle and felt the white-hot stab of pain as something sharp scored a line across his shoulders.

Behind him Hrun screamed, but it sounded more like a bellow of rage than a cry of pain. The barbarian had vaulted down into the heather and had drawn the black sword, Kring. He flourished it as one of the dragons curved in for another low pass.

" No bloody lizard does that to me! " he roared.

Rincewind leaned over and grabbed Twoflower's reins.

" Come on, " he hissed.

" But, the dragons-" said Twoflower, entranced.

" Blast the-" began the wizard, and froze. Another dragon had peeled off from the circling dots overhead and was gliding towards them. Rincewind let go of Twoflower's horse, swore bitterly, and spurred his own mount towards the trees, alone. He didn't look back at the sudden commotion behind him and, when a shadow passed over him, merely gibbered weakly and tried to burrow into the horse's mane.

Then, instead of the searing, piercing pain he had expected, there was a series of stinging blows as the terrified animal passed under the leaves of the wood. The wizard tried to hang on but another low branch, stouter than the others, knocked him out of the saddle. The last thing he heard before the flashing blue lights of unconsciousness closed in was a high reptilian scream of frustration, and the thrashing of talons in the treetops.

When he awoke a dragon was watching him; at least, it was staring in his general direction. Rincewind groaned and tried to dig his way into the moss with his shoulderblades, then gasped as the pain hit him.

Through the mists of agony and fear he looked back at the dragon.

The creature was hanging from a branch of a large dead oak tree, several hundred feet away. Its bronze-gold wings were tightly wrapped around its body but the long equine head turned this way and that at the end of a remarkably prehensile neck. It was scanning the forest.

It was also semi-transparent. Although the sun glinted off its scales, Rincewind could clearly make out the outlines of the branches behind it. On one of them a man was sitting, dwarfed by the hanging reptile. He appeared to be naked except for a pair of high boots, a tiny leather holdall in the region of his groin, and a high-crested helmet. He was swinging a short sword back and forth idly, and stared out across the tree tops with the air of one carrying out a tedious and unglamorous assignment.

A beetle began to crawl laboriously up Rincewind's leg.

The wizard wondered how much damage a half solid dragon could do. Would it only half-kill him? He decided not to stay and find out.

Moving on heels, fingertips and shoulder muscles, Rincewind wriggled sideways until foliage masked the oak and its occupants. Then he scrambled to his feet and hared off between the trees.

He had no destination in mind, no provisions, and no horse. But while he still had legs he could run. Ferns and brambles whipped at him, but he didn't feel them at all.

When he had put about a mile between him and the dragon he stopped and collapsed against a tree, which then spoke to him.

" Psst, " it said.

Dreading what he might see, Rincewind let his gaze slide upwards. It tried to fasten on innocuous bits of bark and leaf, but the scourge of curiosity forced it to leave them behind. Finally it fixed on a black sword thrust straight through the branch above Rincewind's head.

" Don't just stand there, " said the sword (in a voice like the sound of a finger dragged around the rim of a large empty wine glass). " Pull me out. "

" What? " said Rincewind, his chest still heaving.

" Pull me out, " repeated Kring. " It's either that or I'll be spending the next million years in a coal measure. Did I ever tell you about the time I was thrown into a lake up in th-"

" What happened to the others? " said Rincewind, still clutching the tree desperately.

" Oh, the dragons got them. And the horses. And that box thing. Me too, except that Hrun dropped me. What a stroke of luck for you. "

" Well-" began Rincewind. Kring ignored him.

" I expect you'll be in a hurry to rescue them, " it added.

" Yes, well-"

" So if you'll just pull me out we can be off. "

Rincewind squinted up at the sword. A rescue attempt had hitherto been so far at the back of his mind that, if some advanced speculations on the nature and shape of the many-dimensioned multiplexity of the universe were correct, it was right at the front; but a magic sword was a valuable item...

And it would be a long trek back home, wherever that was...

He scrambled up the tree and inched along the branch. Kring was buried very firmly in the wood. He gripped the pommel and heaved until lights flashed in front of his eyes.

" Try again, " said the sword encouragingly.

Rincewind groaned and gritted his teeth.

" Could be worse, " said Kring. " This could have been an anvil. "

" Yaargh, " hissed the wizard, fearing for the future of his groin.

" I have had a multidimensional existence, " said the sword.

" Ungh? "

" I have had many names, you know. "

" Amazing, " said Rincewind. He swayed backwards as the blade slid free. It felt strangely light. back on the ground again he decided to break the news. " I really don't think rescue is a good idea, " he said. " I think we'd better head back to a city, you know. To raise a search party. "

" The dragons headed hubwards, " said Kring.

" However, I suggest we start with the one in the trees over there. "

" Sorry, but-"

" You can't leave them to their fate! "

Rincewind looked surprised. " I can't? " he said.

" No. You can't. Look, I'll be frank. I’ve worked with better material than you, but it's either that or-have you ever spent a million years in a coal measure? "

" Look, I-"

" So if you don't stop arguing I'll chop your head off. "

Rincewind saw his own arm snap up until the shimmering blade was humming a mere inch from his throat. He tried to force his fingers to let go. They wouldn't.

" I don't know how to be a hero! " he shouted.

" I propose to teach you. "

Bronze Psepha rumbled deep in his throat.

K! sdra the dragonrider leaned forward and squinted across the clearing. " I see him, " he said. He swung himself down easily from branch to branch and landed lightly on the tussocky grass, drawing his sword. He took a long look at the approaching man, who was obviously not keen on leaving the shelter of the trees. He was armed, but the dragonrider observed with some interest the strange way in which the man held the sword in front of him at arm's length, as though embarrassed to be seen in its company.

K! sdra hefted his own sword and grinned expansively as the wizard shuffled towards him. Then he leapt.

Later, he remembered only two things about the fight. He recalled the uncanny way in which the wizard's sword curved up and caught his own blade with a shock that jerked it out of his grip. The other thing - and it was this, he averred, that led to his downfall - was that the wizard was covering his eyes with one hand.

K! sdra jumped back to avoid another thrust and fell full length on the turf. With a snarl Psepha unfolded his great wings and launched himself from his tree.

A moment later the wizard was standing over him, shouting, " Tell it that if it singes me I'll let the sword go. I will. I'll let it go! So tell it! "

The tip of the black sword was hovering over K! sdra's throat, What was odd was that the wizard was obviously struggling with it, and it appeared to be singing to itself.

" Psepha! " K! sdra shouted.

The dragon roared in defiance, but pulled out of the dive that would have removed Rincewind's head, and flapped ponderously back to the tree.

" Talk! " screamed Rincewind.

K! sdra squinted at him up the length of the sword.

" What would you like me to say? " he asked.

" What? "

" I said what would you like me to say? "

" Where are my friends? The barbarian and the little man is what I mean. "

" I expect they have been taken back to the Wyrmberg. "

Rincewind tugged desperately against the surge of the sword, trying to shut his mind to Kring's bloodthirsty humming.

" The Wyrmberg. There is only one. It is Dragonhome. "

" And I suppose you were waiting to take me there, eh? "

K! sdra gulped involuntarily as the tip of the sword pricked a bead of blood from his adam's apple.

" Don't want people to know you've got dragons here, eh? " snarled Rincewind.

The dragonrider forgot himself enough to nod, and came within a quarter-inch of cutting his own throat.

Rincewind looked around desperately, and realized that this was something he was really going to have to go through with.

" Right then, " he said as diffidently as he could manage. " You'd better take me to this Wyrmberg of yours, hadn't you? "

" I was supposed to take you in dead, " muttered K! sdra sullenly.

Rincewind looked down at him and grinned slowly. It was a wide, manic and utterly humourless rictus that was the sort of grin that is normally accompanied by small riverside birds wandering in and out picking scraps out of the teeth.

" Alive will do, " said Rincewind. " If we're talking about anyone being dead, remember whose sword is in which hand. "

" If you kill me, nothing will prevent Psepha killing you, " shouted the prone dragonrider.

" So what I'll do is, I'll chop bits off, " agreed the wizard. He tried the effect of the grin again.

" Oh, all right, " said K! sdra sulkily. " Do you think I’ve got an imagination? "

He wriggled out from under the sword and waved at the dragon, which took wing again and glided in towards them. Rincewind swallowed.

" You mean we've got to go on that? " he said. K! sdra looked at him scornfully, the point of Kring still aimed at his neck.

" How else would anyone get to the Wyrmberg? "

" I don't know, " said Rincewind. " How else? "

" I mean, there is no other way. It's flying or nothing. "

Rincewind looked again at the dragon before him. He could quite clearly see through it to the crushed grass on which it lay but, when he gingerly touched a scale that was a mere golden sheen on thin air, it felt solid enough. Either dragons should exist completely or fail to exist at all, he felt. A dragon only half-existing was worse than the extremes.

" I didn't know dragons could be seen through, " he said.

K! sdra shrugged. " Didn't you? " he said.

He swung himself astride the dragon awkwardly because Rincewind was hanging on to his belt. Once uncomfortably aboard the wizard moved his white-knuckle grip to a convenient piece of harness and prodded K! sdra lightly with the sword.

" Have you ever flown before? " said the dragonrider, without looking round.

" Not as such, no. "

" Would you like something to suck? "

Rincewind gazed at the back of the man's head, then dropped to the bag of red and yellow sweets that was being proffered.

" Is it necessary? " he asked.

" It is traditional, " said K! sdra. " Please yourself. "

The dragon stood up, lumbered heavily across the meadow, and fluttered into the air.

Rincewind occasionally had nightmares about teetering on some intangible but enormously high place, and seeing a blue-distanced, cloud-punctuated landscape reeling away below him (this usually woke him up with his ankles sweating; he would have been even more worried had he known that the nightmare was not, as he thought, just the usual discworld vertigo. It was a backwards memory of an event in his future so terrifying that it had generated harmonics of fear all the way along his lifeline).

This was not that event, but it was good practise for it. Psepha clawed its way into the air with a series of vertebrae-shattering bounds. At the top of its last leap the wide wings unfolded with a snap and spread out with a thump which shook the trees. Then the ground was gone, dropping away in a series of gentle jerks. Psepha was suddenly rising gracefully, the afternoon sunlight gleaming off wings that were still no more than a golden film. Rincewind made the mistake of glancing downwards, and found himself looking through the dragon to the treetops below. Far below. His stomach shrank at the sight.

Closing his eyes wasn't much better, because it gave his imagination full rein. He compromised by gazing fixedly into the middle distance, where moorland and forest drifted by and could be contemplated almost casually.

Wind Snatched at him. K! sdra half turned and shouted into his ear.

" Behold the Wyrmberg! "

Rincewind turned his head slowly, taking care to keep Kring resting lightly on the dragon's back. His streaming eyes saw the impossibly inverted mountain rearing out of the deep forested valley like a trumpet in a tub of nose. Even at this distance he could make out the faint octarine glow in the air that must be indicating a stable magic aura of at least - he gasped - several milliPrime? At least!

" Oh no, " he said.

Even looking at the ground was better than that. He averted his eyes quickly, and realized that he could now no longer see the ground through the dragon. As they glided around in a wide circle towards the Wyrmberg it was definitely taking on a more solid form, as if the creature's body was filling with a gold mist. By the time the Wyrmberg was in front of them, swinging wildly across the sky, the dragon was as real as a rock.

Rincewind thought he could see a faint streak in the air, as if something from the mountain had reached out and touched the beast. He got the strange feeling that the dragon was being made more genuine.

Ahead of it the Wyrmberg turned from a distant toy to several billion tons of rock poised between heaven and earth. He could see small fields, woods and a lake up there, and from the lake a river spilled out and over the edge...

He made the mistake of following the thread of foaming water with his eyes, and jerked himself back just in time.

The flared plateau of the upturned mountain drifted towards them. The dragon didn't even slow. As the mountain loomed over Rincewind like the biggest fly-swatter in the universe he saw a cave mouth. Psepha skimmed towards it, shoulder muscles pumping.

The wizard screamed as the dark spread and enfolded him. There was a brief vision of rock flashing past, blurred by speed. Then the dragon was in the open again.

It was inside a cave, but bigger than any cave had a right to be. The dragon, gliding across its vast emptiness, was a mere gilded fly in a banqueting hall.

There were other dragons - gold, silver, black, white - flapping across the sun-shafted air on errands of their own or perched on outcrops of rock. High in the domed roof of the cavern scores of others hung from huge rings, their wings wrapped bat-like around their bodies. There were men up there, too. Rincewind swallowed hard when he saw them, because they were walking on that broad expanse of ceiling like flies.

Then he made out the thousands of tiny rings that studded the ceiling. A number of inverted men were watching Psepha's flight with interest. Rincewind swallowed again. For the life of him he couldn't think of what to do next.

" Well? " he asked, in a whisper. " Any suggestions?

" Obviously you attack, " said Kring scornfully.

" Why didn't I think of that? " said Rincewind

" Could it be because they all have crossbows? "

" You're a defeatist. "

" Defeatist? That's because I'm going to be defeated! "

" You're your own worst enemy, Rincewind, " said the sword.

Rincewind looked up at grinning men.

" Bet? " he said wearily.

Before Kring could reply Psepha reared in midair and alighted on one of the large rings, which rocked alarmingly.

" Would you like to die now, or surrender first? " asked K! sdra calmly.

Men were converging on the ring from all directions, walking with a swaying motion as their hooked boots engaged the ceiling rings. There were more boots on a rack that hung in a small platform built on the side of the perch-ring. Before Rincewind could stop him the dragonrider had leapt from the creature's back to land on the platform, where he stood grinning at the wizard's discomfiture.

There was a small expressive sound made by a number of crossbows being cocked. Rincewind looked up at a number of impassive, upside down faces. The dragonfolk's taste in clothing didn't run to anything much more imaginative than a leather harness, studded with bronze ornaments. Knives and sword sheaths were worn inverted. Those who were not wearing helmets let their hair flow freely, so that it moved like seaweed in the ventilation breeze near the roof. There were several women among them. The inversion did strange things to their anatomy. Rincewind stared.

" Surrender, " said K! sdra again.

Rincewind opened his mouth to do so. Kring hummed a warning, and agonising waves of pain shot up his arm. " Never, " he squeaked. The pain stopped.

" Of course he won't! " boomed an expansive voice behind him. " He's a hero, isn't he? "

Rincewind turned and looked into a pair of hairy nostrils. They belonged to a heavily built young man, hanging nonchalantly from the ceiling by his boots.

" What is your name, hero? " said the man. " so that we know who you were. "

Agony shot up Rincewind's arm. " I-I'm Rincewind of Ankh, " he managed to gasp.

" And I am Lio! rt Dragonlord, " said the hanging man, pronouncing the word with the harsh click in the back of the throat that Rincewind could only think of as a kind of integral punctuation. " You have come to challenge me in mortal combat. "

" Well, no, I didn't-"

" You are mistaken. K! sdra, help our hero into a pair of hookboots. I am sure he is anxious to get started. "

" No, look, I just came here to find my friends. I'm sure there's no-" Rincewind began, as the dragonrider guided him firmly onto the platform, pushed him onto a seat, and proceeded to strap hookboots to his feet.

" Hurry up, K! sdra. We mustn't keep our hero from his destiny, " said Lio! rt.

" Look, I expect my friends are happy enough here, so if you could just, you know, set me down somewhere

" You will see your friends soon enough, " said the dragonlord airily. " If you are religious, I mean. None who enter the Wyrmberg ever leave again. Except metaphorically, of course. Show him how to reach the rings, K! sdra. "

" Look what you’ve got me into! " Rincewind hissed.

Kring vibrated in his hand. " Remember that I am a magic sword, " it hummed.

" How can I forget? "

" Climb the ladder and grab a ring, " said the dragonrider, " then bring your feet up until the hooks catch. " He helped the protesting wizard climb until he was hanging upside down, robe tucked into his britches, Kring dangling from one hand. At this angle the dragonfolk looked reasonably bearable but the dragons themselves, hanging from their perches, loomed over the scene like immense gargoyles. Their eyes glowed with interest.

" Attention, please, " said Lio! rt. A dragonrider handed him a long shape, wrapped in red silk.

" We fight to the death, " he said. " Yours. "

" And I suppose I earn my freedom if I win? " said Rincewind, without much hope.

Lio! rt indicated the assembled dragonriders with a tilt of his head.

" Don't be naive, he said.

Rincewind took a deep breath " I suppose I should warn you, " he said, his voice hardly quavering at all, " that this is a magic sword. "

Lio! rt let the red silk wrapping drop away into the gloom and flourished a jet-black blade. Runes glowed on its surface.

" What a coincidence, " he said, and lunged.

Rincewind went rigid with fright, but his arm swung out as Kring shot forward. The swords met in an explosion of octarine light.

Lio! rt swung himself backwards, his eyes narrowing. Kring leapt past his guard and, although the dragonlord's sword jerked up to deflect most of the force, the result was a thin red line across its master's torso.

With a growl he launched himself at the wizard boots clattering as he slid from ring to ring. The swords met again in another violent discharge of magic and, at the same time, Lio! rt brought his other hand down against Rincewind's head, jarring him so hard that one foot jerked out of its ring and flailed desperately.

Rincewind knew himself to be almost certainly the worst wizard on the Discworld since he knew but one spell; yet for all that he was still a wizard, and thus by the inexorable laws of magic this meant that upon his demise it would be Death himself who appeared to claim him (instead of sending one of his numerous servants, as is usually the case). Thus it was that, as a grinning Lio! rt swung back and brought his sword around in a lazy arc, time ran into treacle.

To Rincewind's eyes the world was suddenly lit by a flickering octarine light, tinged with violet as photons impacted on the sudden magical aura. Inside it the dragonlord was a ghastly-hued statue, his sword moving at a snail's pace in the glow.

Beside Lio! rt was another figure, visible only to those who can see into the extra four dimensions of magic. It was tall and dark and thin and, against a sudden night of frosty stars, it swung a two-handed scythe of proverbial sharpness...

Rincewind ducked. The blade hissed coldly through the air beside his head and entered the rock of the cavern roof without slowing. Death screamed a curse in his cold crypt voice. The scene vanished. What passed for reality on the Discworld reasserted itself with a rush of sound. Lio! rt gasped at the sudden turn of speed with which the wizard had dodged his killing stroke and, with that desperation only available to the really terrified, Rincewind uncoiled like a snake and launched himself across the space between them. He locked both hands around the dragonlord's sword arm, and wrenched.

It was at that moment that Rincewind's one remaining ring, already overburdened, slid out of the rock with a nasty little metal sound.

He plunged down, swung wildly, and ended up dangling over a bone-splintering death with his hands gripping the dragonlord's arm so tightly that the man screamed.

Lio! rt looked up at his feet. Small flakes of rock were dropping out of the roof around the ring pitons.

" Let go, damn you. " he screamed. " Or we'll both die! "

Rincewind said nothing. He was concentrating on maintaining his grip and keeping his mind closed to the pressing images of his fate on the rocks below.

" Shoot him! " bellowed Lio! rt.

Out of the corner of his eye Rincewind saw several crossbows levelled at him. Lio! rt chose that moment to flail down with his free hand, and a fistful of rings stabbed into the wizard's fingers.

He let go.

Twoflower grabbed the bars and pulled himself up.

" See anything? " said Hrun, from the region of his feet.

" Just clouds. "

Hrun lifted him down again, and sat on the edge of one of the wooden beds that were the only furnishings in the cell. " Bloody hell, " he said.

" Don't despair, " said Twoflower.

" I'm not despairing. "

" I expect it's all some sort of misunderstanding. I expect they'll release us soon. They seem very civilised. "

Hrun stared at him from under bushy eyebrows. He started to say something, then appeared to think better of it. He sighed instead.

" And when we get back we can say we've seen dragons, " Twoflower continued. " What about that, eh? "

" Dragons don't exist, " said Hrun flatly. " Codice of Chimeria killed the last one two hundred years ago. I don't know what we're seeing, but they aren't dragons. "

" But they carried us up in the air! In that hall there must have been hundreds-"

" I expect it was just magic, " said Hrun, dismissively.

" Well, they looked like dragons, " said Twoflower, an air of defiance about him. " I always wanted to see dragons, ever since I was a little lad. Dragons flying around in the sky, breathing flames... "

" They just used to crawl around in swamps and stuff, and all they breathed was stink, " said Hrun lying down in the bunk. " They weren't very big either. They used to collect firewood. "

" I heard they used to collect treasure, " said Twoflower.

" And firewood. Hey, " Hrun added, brightening " did you notice all those rooms they brought us through? Pretty impressive, I thought. Lot of good stuff about, plus some of those tapestries have got to be worth a fortune. " He scratched his chin thoughtfully, making a noise like a porcupine shouldering its way through gorse.

" What happens next? " asked Twoflower.

Hrun screwed a finger in his ear and inspected it absently. " Oh, " he said, " I expect in a minute the door will be flung back and I'll be dragged off to some sort of temple arena where I'll fight maybe a couple of giant spiders and an eight-foot slave from the jungles of Klatch and then I'll rescue some kind of a princess from the altar and then kill off a few guards or whatever and then this girl will show me the secret passage out of the place and we'll liberate a couple of horses and escape with the treasure. " Hrun leaned his head back on his hands and looked at the ceiling, whistling tunelessly.

" All that? " said Twoflower.

" Usually. "

Twoflower sat down on his bunk and tried to think. This proved difficult, because his mind was awash with dragons.

Dragons!

Ever since he was two years old he had been captivated by the pictures of the fiery beasts in The Octarine Fairy Book. His sister had told him they didn't really exist, and he recalled the bitter disappointment. If the world didn't contain those beautiful creatures, he'd decided, it wasn't half the world it ought to be. And then later he had been bound apprentice to Ninereeds the Masteraccount, who in his grey-mindedness was everything that dragons were not, and there was no time for dreaming.

But there was something wrong with these dragons. They were too small and sleek, compared to the ones in his mind's eye. Dragons ought to be big and green and clawed and exotic and firebreathing - big and green with long sharp... Something moved at the edge of his vision, in the furthest, darkest corner of the dungeon. When he turned his head it vanished, although he thought he heard the faintest of noises that might have been made by claws scrabbling on stone.

" Hrun? " he said.

There was a snore from the other bunk.

Twoflower padded over to the corner, peering gingerly at the stones in case there was a secret panel. At that moment the door was flung back thumping against the wall. Half a dozen guards hurtled through it, spread out and flung them selves down on one knee. Their weapons were aimed exclusively at Hrun. When he thought about this later, Twoflower felt quite offended.

Hrun snored.

A woman strode into the room. Not many women can stride convincingly, but she managed it. She glanced briefly at Twoflower, as one might look at a piece of furniture, then glared down at the man on the bed.

She was wearing the same sort of leather harness that the dragonriders had been wearing but in her case it was much briefer. That, and the magnificent mane of chestnut-red hair that fell to her waist, was her only concession to what even on the Discworld passed for decency. She was also wearing a thoughtful expression.

Hrun made a glubbing noise, turned over, and slept on.

With a careful movement, as though handling some instrument of rare delicacy, the woman drew a slim black dagger from her belt and stabbed downward.

Before it was halfway through its arc Hrun's right hand moved so fast that it appeared to travel between two points in space without at any time occupying the intervening air. It closed around the woman's wrist with a dull smack. His other hand groped feverishly for a sword that wasn't there... Hrun awoke.

" Gngh? " he said, looking up at the woman with a puzzled frown. Then he caught sight of the bowmen.

" Let go, " said the woman, in a voice that was calm and quiet and edged with diamonds. Hrun released his grip slowly.

She stepped back, massaging her wrist and looking at Hrun in much the same way that a cat watches a mousehole.

" So, " she said at last. " You pass the first test. What is your name, barbarian? "

" Who are you calling a barbarian? " snarled Hrun.

" That is what I want to know. "

Hrun counted the bowmen slowly and made a brief calculation. His shoulders relaxed.

" I am Hrun of Chimeria. And you? "

" Liessa Dragonlady. "

" You are the lord of this place? "

" That remains to be seen. You have the look about you of a hired sword, Hrun of Chimeria. I could use you - if you pass the tests, of course. There are three of them. You have passed the first. "

" What are the other-" Hrun paused, his lips moved soundlessly and then he hazarded, " two? "

" Perilous. "

" And the fee? "

" Valuable. "

" Excuse me, " said Twoflower

" And if I fail these tests? " said Hrun, ignoring him. The air between Hrun and Liessa crackled with small explosions of charisma as their gazes sought for a hold.

" If you had failed the first test you would now be dead. This may be considered a typical penalty. "

" Um, look, " began Twoflower. Liessa spared him a brief glance, and appeared actually to notice him for the first time.

" Take that away, " she said calmly, and turned back to Hrun. Two of the guards shouldered their bows, grasped Twoflower by the elbows and lifted him off the ground. Then they trotted smartly through the doorway.

" Hey, " said Twoflower, as they hurried down the corridor outside, " where" (as they stopped in front of another door) " is my" (as they dragged the door open) " Luggage? " He landed in a heap of what might once have been straw. The door banged shut, its echoes punctuated by the sound of bolts being slammed home.

In the other cell Hrun had barely blinked.

" Okay, " he said, " what is the second test? "

" You must kill my two brothers. " Hrun considered this.

" Both at the same time, or one after the other? " he said.

" Consecutively or concurrently, " she assured him

" What? "

" Just kill them, " she said sharply

" Good fighters, are they? "

" Renowned. "

" So in return for all this...? "

" You will wed me and become Lord of the Wyrmberg. "

There was a long pause. Hrun's eyebrows twisted themselves in unaccustomed calculation.

" I get you and this mountain? " he said at last.

" Yes. " She looked him squarely in the eye, and her lips twitched. " The fee is worthwhile, I assure you. "

Hrun dropped his gaze to the rings on her hand The stones were large, being the incredibly rare blue milk diamonds from the clay basins of Mithos. When he managed to turn his eyes from them he saw Liessa glaring down at him in fury.

" So calculating? " she rasped. " Hrun the Barbarian who would boldly walk into the jaws of Death Himself? "

Hrun shrugged. " Sure, " he said, " the only reason for walking into the jaws of Death is so's you can steal His gold teeth. " He brought one arm around expansively, and the wooden bunk was at the end of it. It cannoned into the bowmen and Hrun followed it joyously, felling one man with a blow and snatching the weapon from another. A moment later it was all over.

Liessa had not moved.

" Well? " she said.

" Well what? " said Hrun, from the carnage

" Do you intend to kill me? "

" What? Oh no. No, this is just, you know, kind of a habit. Just keeping in practice. So where are these brothers? " He grinned.

Twoflower sat on his straw and stared into the darkness. He wondered how long he had been there. Hours, at least. Days, probably. He speculated that perhaps it had been years, and he had simply forgotten.

No, that sort of thinking wouldn't do. He tried to think of something else - grass, trees, fresh air, dragons. Dragons...

There was the faintest of scrabblings in the darkness. Twoflower felt the sweat prickle on his forehead.

Something was in the cell with him. Something that made small noises, but even in the pitch blackness gave the impression of hugeness. He felt the air move.

When he lifted his arm there was the greasy feel and faint shower of sparks that betokened a localised magical field. Twoflower found himself fervently wishing for light.

A gout of flame rolled past his head and struck the far wall. As the rocks flashed into furnace heat he looked up at the dragon that now occupied more than half the cell.

I obey, lord said a voice in his head.

By the glow of the crackling, spitting stone Twoflower looked into his own reflection in two enormous green eyes. Beyond them the dragon was as multi-hued, horned, spiked and lithe as the one in his memory - a real dragon. Its folded wings were nevertheless still wide enough to scrape the wall on both sides of the room. It lay with him between its talons.

" Obey? " he said, his voice vibrating with terror and delight.

Of course, lord.

The glow faded away. Twoflower pointed a trembling finger at where he remembered the door to be and said, " Open it! "

The dragon raised its huge head. Again the ball of flame rolled out but this time, as the dragon's neck muscles contracted, its colour faded from orange to yellow, from yellow to white, and finally to the faintest of blues. By that time the flame was also very thin, and where it touched the wall the molten rock spat and ran. When it reached the door the metal exploded into a shower of hot droplets.

Black shadows arced and jiggered over the walls. The metal bubbled for an eye-aching moment, and then the door fell in two pieces in the passage beyond. The flame winked out with a suddenness that was almost as startling as its arrival.

Twoflower stepped gingerly over the cooling door and looked up and down the corridor. It was empty.

The dragon followed. The heavy door frame caused it some minor difficulty, which it overcame with a swing of its shoulders that tore the timber out and tossed it to one side. The creature looked expectantly at Twoflower, its skin rippling and twitching as it sought to open its wings in the confines of the passage.

" How did you get in there? " said Twoflower.

You summoned me, master.

" I don't remember doing that. "

In your mind. You called me up, in, your mind thought the dragon, patiently.

" You mean I just thought of you and there You were? "

Yes.

" It was magic? "

Yes.

" But I've thought about dragons all my life. "

In this place the frontier between thought and reality is probably a little confused. All I know is that once I was not, and then you thought of me, and then I was. Therefore, of course, I am yours to command.

" Good grief"

Half a dozen guards chose that moment to turn the bend in the corridor. They stopped, openmouthed. Then one remembered himself sufficiently to raise his crossbow and fire.

The dragon's chest heaved. The quarrel exploded into flaming fragments in mid-air. The guards scurried out of sight. A fraction of a second later a wash of flame played over the stones where they had been standing.

Twoflower looked up in admiration

" Can you fly too? " he said.

Of course.

Twoflower glanced up and down the corridor, and decided against following the guards. Since he knew himself to be totally lost already, any direction was probably an improvement. He edged past the dragon and hurried away, the huge beast turning with difficulty to follow him.

They padded down a series of passages that crisscrossed like a maze. At one point Twoflower thought he heard shouts, a long way behind them but they soon faded away. Sometimes the dark arch of a crumbling doorway loomed past them in the gloom. Light filtered through dimly from various shafts and, here and there, bounced off big mirrors that had been mortared into angles of the passage. Sometimes there was a brighter glow from a distant light-well.

What was odd, thought Twoflower as he strolled down a wide flight of stairs and kicked up billowing clouds of silver dust motes, was that the tunnels here were much wider. And better constructed, too. There were statues in niches set in the walls, and here and there faded but interesting tapestries had been hung. They mainly showed dragons - dragons by the hundreds in flight or hanging from their perch rings, dragons with men on their backs hunting down deer and, sometimes other men. Twoflower touched one tapestry gingerly. The fabric crumbled instantly in the hot dry air, leaving only a dangling mesh where some threads had been plaited with fine gold wire.

" I wonder why they left all this? " he said.

I don't know said a polite voice in his head.

He turned and looked up into the scaley horse face above him.

" What is your name, dragon? " said Twoflower.

I don't know.

" I think I shall call you Ninereeds. "

That is my name, then.

They waded through the all-encroaching dust in a series of huge, dark-pillared halls which had been delved out of the solid rock. With some cunning too, from floor to ceiling the walls were a mass of statues, gargoyles, bas-reliefs and fluted columns that cast weirdly-moving shadows when the dragon gave an obliging illumination at Twoflower's request. They crossed the lengthy galleries and vast carven amphitheatres, all awash with deep soft dust and completely uninhabited. No-one had come to these dead caverns in centuries.

Then he saw the path, leading away into yet another dark tunnel mouth. Someone had been using it regularly, and recently. It was a deep narrow trail in the grey blanket.

Twoflower followed it. It led through still more lofty halls and winding corridors quite big enough for a dragon (and dragons had come this way once, it seemed; there was a room full of rotting harness, dragon-sized, and another room containing plate and chain mail big enough for elephants). They ended in a pair of green bronze doors, each so high that they disappeared into the gloom. In front of Twoflower, at chest height, was a small handle shaped like a brass dragon.

When he touched it the doors swung open instantly and with a disconcerting noiselessness.

Instantly sparks crackled in Twoflower's hair and there was a sudden gust of hot dry wind that didn't disturb the dust in the way that ordinary wind should but, instead, whipped it up momentarily into unpleasantly half-living shapes before it settled again. In Twoflower's ears came the strange shrill twittering of the Things locked in the distant dungeon Dimensions, out beyond the fragile lattice of time and space. Shadows appeared where there was nothing to cause them. The air buzzed like a hive.

In short, there was a vast discharge of magic going on around him.

The chamber beyond the door was lit by a pale green glow. Stacked around the walls, each on its own marble shelf, were tier upon tier of coffins. In the centre of the room was a stone chair on a raised dais, and it contained a slumped figure which did not move but said, in a brittle old voice, " Come in, young man. "

Twoflower stepped forward. The figure in the seat was human, as far as he could make out in the murky light, but there was something about the awkward way it was sprawled in the chair that made him glad he couldn't see it any clearer.

" I'm dead, you know, " came a voice from what Twoflower fervently hoped was a head, in conversational tones. " I expect you can tell. "

" Um, " said Twoflower. " Yes. " He began to back away.

" Obvious, isn't it? " agreed the voice. " You'd be Twoflower, wouldn't you? Or is that later? "

" Later? " said Twoflower. " Later than what? " He stopped.

" Well, " said the voice. " You see, one of the disadvantages of being dead is that one is released as it were from the bonds of time and therefore I can see everything that has happened or will happen, all at the same time except that of course I now know that Time does not, for all practical purposes, exist. "

" That doesn't sound like a disadvantage, " said Twoflower.

" You don't think so? Imagine every moment being at one and the same time a distant memory and a nasty surprise and you'll see what I mean. Anyway, I now recall what it was I am about to tell you. Or have I already done so? That's a fine looking dragon, by the way. Or don't I say that, yet? "

" It is rather good. It just turned up, " said Twoflower.

" It turned up? " said the voice. " You summoned it! "

" Yes, well, all I did-"

" You have the Power! "

" All I did was think of it. "

" That's what the Power is. Have I already told you that I am Greicha the First? Or is that next? I'm sorry, but I haven't had too much experience of transcendence. Anyway, yes - the Power. It summons dragons, you know. "

" I think you already told me that, " said Twoflower.

" Did I? I certainly intended to, " said the dead man.

" But how does it? I've been thinking about dragons all my life, but this is the first time one has turned up. "

" Oh well, you see, the truth of the matter is that dragons have never existed as you (and, until I was poisoned some three months ago, ) I understand existence. I'm talking about the true dragon, draconis nobilis, you understand; the swamp dragon, draconis vulgaris, is a base creature and not worth our consideration. The true dragon, on the other hand, is a creature of such refinement of spirit that they can only take on form in this world if they are conceived by the most skilled imagination. And even then the said imagination must be in some place heavily impregnated with magic which helps to weaken the walls between the world of the seen and unseen. Then the dragons pop through, as it were, and impress their form on this world's possibility matrix. I was very good at it when I was alive. I could imagine up to, oh, five hundred dragons at a time. Now Liessa, the most skilled of my children, can barely imagine fifty rather nondescript creatures. So much for a progressive education. She doesn't really believe in them. That's why her dragons are rather boring while yours, " said the voice of Greicha, " is almost as good as some of mine used to be. A sight for sore eyes, not that I have any to speak of now. "

Twoflower said hurriedly, " You keep saying you're dead... "

" Well? "

" Well, the dead, er, they, you know, don't talk much. As a rule. "

" I used to be an exceptionally powerful wizard. My daughter poisoned me, of course. It is the generally accepted method of succession in our family, but, " the corpse sighed, or at least a sigh came from the air a few feet above it, " it soon became obvious that none of my three children is sufficiently powerful to wrest the lordship of the Wyrmberg from the other two. A most unsatisfactory arrangement. A kingdom like ours has to have one ruler. So I resolved to remain alive in an unofficial capacity, which of course annoys them all immensely. I won't give my children the satisfaction of burying me until there is only one of them left to perform the ceremony. " There was a nasty wheezing noise. Twoflower decided that it was meant to be a chuckle.

" So it was one of them that kidnapped us? " said Twoflower.

" Liessa, " said the dead wizard's voice. " My daughter. Her power is strongest, you know. My sons' dragons are incapable of flying more than a few miles before they fade. "

" Fade? I did notice that we could see through the one that brought us here, " said Twoflower. " I thought that was a bit odd. "

" Of course, " said Greicha. " The Power only works near the Wyrmberg. It's the inverse square law you know. At least, I think it is. As the dragons fly further away they begin to dwindle. Otherwise my little Liessa would be ruling the whole world by now, if I know anything about it. But I can see I mustn't keep you. I expect you'll be wanting to rescue your friend. "

Twoflower gaped. " Hrun? " he said.

" Not him. The skinny wizard. My son Lio! rt is trying to hack him to pieces. I admired the way you rescued him. Will, I mean. "

Twoflower drew himself up to his full height, an easy task. " Where is he? " he said, heading towards the door with what he hoped was an heroic stride.

" Just follow the pathway in the dust, " said the voice. " Liessa comes to see me sometimes. She still comes to see her old dad, my little girl. She was the only one with the strength of character to murder me. A chip off the old block. Good luck, by the way. I seem to recall I said that. Will say it now, I mean. "

The rambling voice got lost in a maze of tenses as Twoflower ran along the dead tunnels, with the dragon loping along easily behind him. But soon he was leaning against a pillar, completely out of breath. It seemed ages since he'd had anything to eat.

Why don't you fly? said Ninereeds, inside his head. The dragon spread its wings and gave an experimental flap, which lifted it momentarily off the ground. Twoflower stared for a moment, then ran forward and clambered quickly on to the beast's neck. Soon they were airborne, the dragon skimming along easily a few feet from the floor and leaving a billowing cloud of dust in its wake.

Twoflower hung on as best he could as Ninereeds swooped through a succession of caverns and soared around a spiral staircase that could easily have accommodated a retreating army. At the top they emerged into the more inhabited regions, the mirrors at every corridor corner brightly polished and reflecting a pale light.

I smell other dragons.

The wings became a blur and Twoflower was jerked back as the dragon veered and sped off down a side corridor like a gnat-crazed swallow. Another sharp turn sent them soaring out of a tunnel mouth in the side of a vast cavern. There were rocks far below, and up above were broad shafts of light from great holes near the roof. A lot of activity on the ceiling, too... as Ninereeds hovered, thumping the air with his wings, Twoflower peered up at the shapes of roosting beasts and tiny men-shaped dots that were somehow walking upside down.

This is a roosting hall, said the dragon in a satisfied tone.

As Twoflower watched, one of the shapes far above detached itself from the roof and began to grow larger...

Rincewind watched as Lio! rt's pale face dropped away from him. This is funny, gibbered a small part of his mind, why am I rising?

Then he began to tumble in the air and reality took over. He was dropping to the distant, guano-speckled rocks.

His brain reeled with the thought. The words of the Spell picked just that moment to surface from the depths of his mind, as they always did in time of crisis. Why not say us, they seemed to urge. What have you got to lose?

Rincewind waved a hand in the gathering slipstream.

" Ashonai, " he called. The word formed in front of him in a cold blue flame that streamed in the wind.

He waved the other hand, drunk with terror and magic.

" Ebiris, " he intoned. The sound froze into a flickering orange word that hung beside its companion.

" Urshoring. Kvanti. Pythan. N'gurad. Feringomalee. " As the words blazed their rainbow colours around him he flung his hands back and prepared to say the eighth and final word that would appear in corruscating octarine and seal the spell. The imminent rocks were forgotten.

" -" he began.

The breath was knocked out of him, the spell scattered and snuffed out. A pair of arms locked around his waist and the whole world jerked sideways as the dragon rose out of its long dive claws grazing just for a moment the topmost rock on the Wyrmberg's noisome floor. Twoflower laughed triumphantly.

" Got him! "

And the dragon, curving gracefully at the top of his flight, gave a lazy flip of his wings and soared through a cavemouth into the morning air.

At noon, in a wide green meadow on the lush tableland that was the top of the impossibly-balanced Wyrmberg, the dragons and their riders formed a wide circle. There was room beyond them for a rabble of servants and slaves and others who scratched a living here on the roof of the world, and they were all watching the figures clustered in the centre of the grassy arena.

The group contained a number of senior dragon lords, and among them were Lio! rt and his brother Liartes. The former was still rubbing his legs, with Small grimaces of pain. Slightly to one side stood Liessa and Hrun, with some of the woman's own followers. Between the two factions stood the Wyrmberg's hereditary Loremaster.

" As you know, " he said uncertainly, " the not-fully-late Lord of the Wyrmberg, Greicha the First, has stipulated that there will be no succession until one of his children feels himself - or as it might be, herself - powerful enough to challenge and defeat his or her siblings in mortal combat. "

" Yes", yes, we know all that. Get on with it, " said a thin peevish voice from the air beside him.

The loremaster swallowed. He had never come to terms with his former master's failure to expire properly. Is the old buzzard dead or isn't he? he wondered.

" It is not certain, " he quavered, " whether it is allowable to issue a challenge by proxy-"

" It is, it is, " snapped Greicha's disembodied voice. " It shows intelligence. Don't take all day about it. "

" I challenge you, " said Hrun, glaring at the brothers, " both at once. "

Lio! rt and Liartes exchanged looks.

" You'll fight us both together? " said Liartes, a tall, wiry man with long black hair.

" Yah. "

" That's pretty uneven odds, isn't it? "

" Yah. I outnumber you one to two. "

Lio! rt scowled. " You arrogant barbarian-"

" That just about does it, " growled Hrun. " I'll-"

The Loremaster put out a blue-veined hand to restrain him.

" It is forbidden to fight on the Killing Ground, " he said, and paused while he considered the sense of this. " You know what I mean, anyway, " he hazarded, giving up, and added " As the challenged parties my lords Lio! rt and Liartes have choice of weapons. "

" Dragons, " they said together. Liessa snorted.

" Dragons can be used offensively, therefore they are weapons, " said Lio! rt firmly. " if you disagree we can fight over it. "

" Yah, " said his brother, nodding at Hrun.

The Loremaster felt a ghostly finger prod him in the chest " Don't stand there with your mouth open, " said Greicha's graveyard voice. " Just hurry up, will you? "

Hrun stepped back, shaking his head.

" Oh no, " he said. " Once was enough. I'd rather be dead than fight on one of those things. "

" Die, then, " said the Loremaster, as kindly as he could manage.

Lio! rt and Liartes were already striding back across the turf to where the servants stood waiting with their mounts. Hrun turned to Liessa. She shrugged.

" Don't I even get a sword? " he pleaded. " A knife, even? "

" No, " she said. " I didn't expect this. " She suddenly looked smaller, all defiance gone. " I'm sorry. "

" You're sorry? "

" Yes. I'm sorry. "

" Yes, I thought you said you're sorry. "

" Don't glare at me like that! I can imagine you the finest dragon to ride"

" NO! "

The Loremaster wiped his nose on a handkerchief, held the little silken square aloft for a moment, then let it fall.

A boom of wings made Hrun spin around.

Lio! rt's dragon was already airborne and circling around towards them. As it swooped low over the turf a billow of flame shot from its mouth, scoring a black streak across the grass that rushed towards Hrun.

At the last minute he pushed Liessa aside, and felt the wild pain of the flame on his arm as he dived for safety. He rolled as he hit the ground, and flipped on to his feet again while he looked around frantically for the other dragon. It came in from one side, and Hrun was forced to take a badly-judged standing jump to escape the flame. The dragon's tail whipped around as it passed and caught him a stinging blow across the forehead. He pushed himself upright, shaking his head to make the wheeling stars go away. His blistered back screamed pain at him.

Lio! rt came in for a second run, but slower this time to allow for the big man's unexpected agility. As the ground drifted up he saw the barbarian standing stock still, chest heaving, arms hanging loosely by his sides. An easy target. As his dragon swooped away Lio! rt turned his head, expecting to see a dreadfully big cinder. There was nothing there. Puzzled, Lio! rt turned back.

Hrun, heaving himself over the dragon's shoulder scales with one hand and beating out his flaming hair with the other, presented himself to his view. Lio! rt's hand flew to his dagger, but pain had sharpened Hrun's normally excellent reflexes to needle point. A backhand blow hammered into the dragonlord's wrist, sending the dagger arcing away towards the ground, and another caught the man full on the chin.

The dragon, carrying the weight of two men, was only a few yards above the grass. This turned out to be fortunate, because at the moment Lio! rt lost consciousness the dragon winked out of existence. Liessa hurried across the grass and helped Hrun stagger to his feet. He blinked at her.

" What happened? What happened? " he said thickly.

" That was really fantastic, " she said. " The way you turned that somersault in mid-air and everything. "

" Yah, but what happened? "

" It's rather difficult to explain-"

Hrun peered up at the sky. Liartes, by far the most cautious of the two brothers, was circling high above them.

" Well, you've got about ten seconds to try, " he said " The dragons-"

" Yah? "

" They're imaginary. "

" Like all these imaginary burns on my arm, you mean? "

" Yes. No! " she shook her head violently. " I'll have to tell you later! "

" Fine, if you can find a really good medium, " snapped Hrun. He glared up at Liartes, who was beginning to descend in wide sweeps.

" Just listen, will you? Unless my brother is conscious his dragon can't exist, it's got no pathway through to this-"

" Run! " shouted Hrun. He threw her away from him and flung himself flat on the ground as Liartes' dragon thundered by, leaving another smoking scar across the turf.

While the creature sought height for another sweep Hrun scrambled to his feet and set off at a dead run for the woods at the edge of the arena. They were sparse, little more than a wide and overgrown hedge, but at least no dragon would be able to fly through them.

It didn't try. Liartes brought his mount in to land on the turf a few yards away and dismounted casually. The dragon folded its wings and poked its head in among the greenery, while its master leaned against a tree and whistled tunelessly.

" I can burn you out, " said Liartes, after a while. The bushes remained motionless.

" Perhaps you're in that holly bush over there? " The holly bush became a waxy ball of flame.

" I'm sure I can see movement in those ferns. "

The ferns became mere skeletons of white ash.

" You're only prolonging it, barbarian. Why not give in now? I've burned lots of people; it doesn't hurt a bit, " said Liartes, looking sideways at the bushes.

The dragon continued through the spinney, incinerating every likely-looking bush and clump of ferns. Liartes drew his sword and waited.

Hrun dropped from a tree and landed running. Behind him the dragon roared and crashed through the bushes as it tried to turn around, but Hrun was running, running, with his gaze fixed on Liartes and a dead branch in his hands.

It is a little known but true fact that a two legged creature can usually beat a four legged creature over a short distance, simply because of the time it takes the quadruped to get its legs sorted out. Hrun heard the scrabble of claws behind him and then an ominous thump. The dragon had half-opened its wings and was trying to fly.

As Hrun bore down on the dragonlord Liartes' sword came up wickedly, to be caught on the branch. Then Hrun cannoned into him and the two men sprawled on the ground.

The dragon roared.

Liartes screamed as Hrun brought a knee upwards with anatomical precision, but managed a wild blow that rebroke the barbarian's nose for him.

Hrun kicked away and scrambled to his feet, to find himself looking up into the wild horse-face of the dragon, its nostrils distended.

He lashed out with a foot and caught Liartes, who was trying to stand up, on the side of his head. The man slumped.

The dragon vanished. The ball of fire that was billowing towards Hrun faded until, when it reached him, it was no more than a puff of warm air. Then there was no sound but the crackle of burning bushes.

Hrun slung the unconscious dragonlord over his shoulder and set off at a trot back to the arena. Halfway there he found Lio! rt sprawled on the ground, one leg bent awkwardly. He stooped and, with a grunt, hoisted the man on to his vacant shoulder.

Liessa and the Loremaster were waiting on a raised dais at one end of the meadow. The dragonwoman had quite recovered her composure now, and looked levelly at Hrun as he threw the two men down on the steps before her. The people around her were standing in deferential poses, like a court.

" Kill them, " she said.

" I kill in my own time, " he said. " In any case, killing unconscious people isn't right. "

" I can't think of a more opportune time, " said the Loremaster. Liessa snorted.

" Then I shall banish them, " she said. " Once they are beyond the reach of the Wyrmberg's magic then they'll have no Power. They'll be simply brigands. Will that satisfy you? "

" Yes. "

" I am surprised that you are so merciful, Hrun. "

Hrun shrugged. " A man in my position, he can't afford to be anything else, he's got to consider his image. " He looked around. " Where's the next test, then? "

" I warn you that it is perilous. If you wish, you may leave now. If you pass the test, however, you will become lord of the Wyrmberg and, of course, my lawful husband. "

Hrun met her gaze. He thought about his life, to date. It suddenly seemed to him to have been full of long damp nights sleeping under the stars, desperate fights with trolls, city guards, countless bandits and evil priests and, on at least three occasions, actual demigods - and for what? Well, for quite a lot of treasure, he had to admit - but where had it all gone? Rescuing beleagured maidens had a certain passing reward, but most of the time he'd finished up by setting them up in some city somewhere with a handsome dowry, because after a while even the most agreeable exmaiden became possessive and had scant sympathy for his efforts to rescue her sister sufferers. In short, life had really left him with little more than a reputation and a network of scars. Being a lord might be fun. Hrun grinned. With a base like this, all these dragons and a good bunch of fighting men, a man could really be a contender.

Besides, the wench was not uncomely.

" The third test? " she said.

" Am I to be weaponless again? " said Hrun.

Liessa reached up and removed her helmet letting the coils of red hair tumble out. Then she unfastened the brooch of her robe. Underneath, she was naked.

As Hrun's gaze swept over her his mind began to operate two notional counting machines. One assessed the gold in her bangles, the tiger-rubies that ornamented her toe-rings, the diamond spangle that adorned her navel, and two highly individual whirligigs of silver filigree. The other was plugged straight into his libido. Both produced tallies that pleased him mightily.

As she raised a hand and proffered a glass of wine she smiled, and said, " I think not. "

" He didn't attempt to rescue you, " Rincewind pointed out as a last resort.

He clung desperately to Twoflower's waist as the dragon circled slowly, tilting the world at a dangerous angle. The new knowledge that the scaley back he was astride only existed as a sort of threedimensional daydream did not, he had soon realised, do anything at all for his ankle-wrenching sensations of vertigo. His mind kept straying towards the possible results of Twoflower losing his concentration.

" Not even Hrun could have prevailed against those crossbows, " said Twoflower stoutly.

As the dragon rose higher above the patch of woodland, where the three of them had slept a damp and uneasy sleep, the sun rose over the edge of the disc. Instantly the gloomy blues and greys of pre-dawn were transformed into a bright bronze river that flowed across the world, flaring into gold where it struck ice or water or a light-dam. (Owing to the density of the magical field surrounding the disc, light itself moved at sub-sonic speeds; this interesting property was well utilized by the Sorca people of the Great Nef, for example, who over the centuries had constructed intricate and delicate dams, and valleys walled with polished silica, to catch the slow sunlight and sort of store it. The Scintillating reservoirs of the Nef, overflowing after several weeks of uninterrupted sunlight, were a truly magnificent sight from the air and it is therefore unfortunate that Twoflower and Rincewind did not happen to glance in that direction. )

In front of them the billion-ton impossibility that was the magic-wrought Wyrmberg hung against the sky and that was not too bad, until Rincewind turned his head and saw the mountain's shadow slowly unroll itself across the cloudscape of the world...

" What can you see? " said Twoflower to the dragon.

I see fighting on the top of the mountain came the gentle reply.

" See? " said Twoflower. " Hrun's probably fighting for his life at this very moment. "

Rincewind was silent. After a moment Twoflower looked around. The wizard was staring intently at nothing at all, his lips moving soundlessly.

" Rincewind? "

The wizard made a small croaking noise.

" I'm sorry, " said Twoflower. " What did you say? "

"... all the way... the great fall... " muttered Rincewind, His eyes focused, looked puzzled for a moment, then widened in terror. He made the mistake of looking down.

" Aargh, " he opined, and began to slide.

Twoflower grabbed him.

" What's the matter? "

Rincewind tried shutting his eyes, but there were no eyelids to his imagination and it was staring widely.

" Don't you get scared of heights? " he managed to say.

Twoflower looked down at the tiny landscape, mottled with cloud shadows. The thought of fear hadn't actually occurred to him.

" No, " he said. " Why should I? You're just as dead if you fall from forty feet as you are from four thousand fathoms, that's what I say. "

Rincewind tried to consider this dispassionately, but couldn't see the logic of it. It wasn't the actual falling, it was the hitting he...

Twoflower grabbed him quickly.

" Steady on, " he said cheerfully. " We're nearly there. "

" I wish I was back in the city, " moaned Rincewind. " I wish I was back on the ground. "

" I wonder if dragons can fly all the way to the stars? " mused Twoflower. " Now that would be something... "

" You're mad, " said Rincewind flatly. There was no reply from the tourist, and when the wizard craned around he was horrified to see Twoflower looking up at the paling stars with an odd smile on his face.

" Don't" you even think about it, " added Rincewind, menacingly.

The man you seek is talking to the dragon-woman said the dragon.

" Hmm? " said Twoflower, still looking at the paling stars.

" What? " said Rincewind urgently.

" Oh yes. Hrun, " said Twoflower. " I hope we're in time. Dive now. Go low. "

Rincewind opened his eyes as the wind increased to a whistling gale. Perhaps they were blown open - the wind certainly made them impossible to shut.

The flat summit of the Wyrmberg rose up at them, lurched alarmingly, then somersaulted into a green blur that flashed by on either side. Tiny woods and fields blurred into a rushing patchwork. A brief silvery flash in the landscape may have been the little river that overflowed into the air at the plateau's rim. Rincewind tried to force the memory out of his mind, but it was rather enjoying itself there, terrorizing the other occupants and kicking over the furniture.

" I think not, " said Liessa.

Hrun took the wine cup, slowly. He grinned like a pumpkin.

Around the arena the dragons started to bay. Their riders looked up. And something like a green blur flashed across the arena, and Hrun had gone. The winecup hung momentarily in the air, then crashed down on the steps. Only then did a single drop spill.

This was because, in the instant of enfolding Hrun gently in his claws, Ninereeds the dragon had momentarily synchronized their bodily rhythms. Since the dimension of the imagination is much more complex than those of time and space, which are very junior dimensions indeed, the effect of this was to instantly transform a stationary and priapic Hrun into a Hrun moving sideways at eighty miles an hour with no ill-effects whatsoever, except for a few wasted mouthfuls of wine. Another effect was to cause Liessa to scream with rage and summon her dragon. As the gold beast materialised in front of her she leapt astride it, still naked, and snatched a crossbow from one of the guards. Then she was airborne, while the other dragonriders swarmed towards their own beasts.

The Loremaster, watching from the pillar he had prudently slid behind in the mad scramble happened at that moment to catch the cross dimensional echoes of a theory being at the same instant hatched in the mind of an early psychiatrist in an adjacent universe, possibly because the dimension-leak was flowing both ways, and for a moment the psychiatrist saw the girl on the dragon. The loremaster smiled.

" Want to bet that she won't catch him? " said Greicha, in a voice of worms and sepulchres, right by his ear.

The loremaster shut his eyes and swallowed hard.

" I thought that my Lord would now be residing fully in the Dread Land, " he managed.

" I am a wizard, " said Greicha. " Death Himself must claim a wizard. And, aha, He doesn't appear to be in the neighbourhood... "

SHAL WE GO? asked Death.

He was on a white horse, a horse of flesh and blood but red of eye and fiery of nostril, and He stretched out a bony hand and took Greicha's soul out of the air and rolled it up until it was a point of painful light, and then He swallowed it.

Then He clapped spurs to his steed and it sprang into the air, sparks corruscating from its hooves.

" Lord Greicha! " whispered the old Loremaster, as the universe flickered around him.

" That was a mean trick, " came the wizard's voice, a mere speck of sound disappearing into the infinite black dimensions.

" My Lord... what is Death like? " called the old man tremulously.

" When I have investigated it fully, I will let you know, " came the faintest of modulations on the breeze.

" Yes, " murmured the loremaster. A thought struck him. " During daylight, please, " he added.

" You clowns, " screamed Hrun, from his perch on Ninereed's foreclaws.

" What did he say? " roared Rincewind, as the dragon ripped its way through the air in the race for the heights.

" Didn't hear. " bellowed Twoflower, his voice torn away by the gale. As the dragon banked slightly he looked down at the little toy spinning top that was the mighty Wyrmberg and saw the swarm of creatures rising in pursuit. Ninereed's wings pounded and flicked the air away contemptuously. Thinner air, too. Twoflower's ear popped for the third time.

Ahead of the swarm, he noticed, was a golden dragon. Someone on it, too.

" Hey, are you all right? " said Rincewind urgently.

He had to drink in several lungfuls of the strangely distilled air in order to get the words out.

" I could have been a lord, and you clowns had to go and-" Hrun gasped. as the chill thin air drew the life even out of his mighty chest

" Wass happnin to the air? " muttered Rincewind. Blue lights appeared in front of his eyes.

" Unk, " said Twoflower, and passed out.

The dragon vanished.

For a few seconds the three men continued upwards. Twoflower and the wizard presenting an odd picture as they sat one in front of the other with their legs astride something that wasn't there, Then what passed for gravity on the Disc recovered from the surprise, and claimed them.

At that moment Liessa's dragon flashed by, and Hrun landed heavily across its neck. Liassa leaned over and kissed him.

This detail was lost to Rincewind as he dropped away, with his arms still clasped around Twoflower's waist. The disc was a little round map pinned against the sky. It didn't appear to be moving, but Rincewind knew that it was. The whole world was coming towards him like a giant custard pie.

" Wake up! " he shouted, above the roar of the wind. " Dragons! Think of dragons! "

There was a flurry of wings as they plummeted through the host of pursuing creatures, which fell away and up. Dragons screamed and wheeled across the sky.

No answer came from Twoflower. Rincewind's robe whipped around him, but he did not wake. Dragons, thought Rincewind in a panic. He tried to concentrate his mind, tried to envisage a really lifelike dragon. If he can do it, he thought, then so can I. But nothing happened.

The disc was bigger now, a cloud-swirled circle rising gently underneath them.

Rincewind tried again, screwing up his eyes and straining every nerve in his body. A dragon. His imagination, a somewhat battered and over-used organ, reached out for a dragon... any dragon.

IT WON'T WORK, laughed a voice like the dull tolling of a funereal bell, YOU DON'T BELIEVE IN THEM.

Rincewind looked at the terrible mounted apparition grinning at him, and his mind bolted in terror.

There was a brilliant flash.

There was utter darkness.

There was a soft floor under Rincewind's feet, a pink light around him, and the sudden shocked cries of many people.

He looked around wildly. He was standing in some kind of tunnel, which was mostly filled with seats in which outlandishly-dressed people had been strapped. They were all shouting at him.

" Wake up, " he hissed. " Help me! "

Dragging the still-unconscious tourist with him he backed away from the mob until his free hand found an oddly-shaped door handle. He twisted it and ducked through, then slammed it hard. He stared around the new room in which he found himself and met the terrified gaze of a young woman who dropped the tray she was holding and screamed.

It sounded like the sort of scream that brings muscular help. Rincewind, awash with fear-distilled adrenalin, turned and barged past her. There were more seats here, and the people in them ducked as he dragged Twoflower urgently along the central gangway. Beyond the rows of seats were little windows. Beyond the windows, against a background of fleecy clouds, was a dragon's wing. It was silver.

I've been eaten by a dragon, he thought. That's ridiculous, he replied, you can't see out of dragons. Then his shoulder hit the door at the far end of the tunnel, and he followed it through into a cone-shaped room that was even stranger than the tunnel.

It was full of tiny glittering lights. Among the lights, in contoured chairs, were four men who were now staring at him open-mouthed. As he stared back he saw their gazes dart sideways. Rincewind turned slowly. Beside him was a fifth man - youngish, bearded, as swarthy as the nomad folk of the Great Nef.

" Where am I? " said the wizard. " in the belly of a dragon? "

The young man crouched back and shoved a small black box in the wizard's face. The men in the chairs ducked down.

" What is it? " said Rincewind. " A picture box? " He reached out and took it, a movement which appeared to surprise the swarthy man, who shouted and tried to snatch it back. There was another shout, this time from one of the men in the chairs. Only now he wasn't sitting. He was standing up, pointing something small and metallic at the young man.

It had an amazing effect. The man crouched back with his hands in the air.

" Please give me the bomb, sir, " said the man with the metallic thing. " Carefully, please. "

" This thing? " said Rincewind.

" You have it-"

" I don't want it! "

The man took it very carefully and put it on the floor. The seated men relaxed, and one of them started speaking urgently to the wall. The wizard watched him in amazement.

" Don't move. " snapped the man with the metal- an amulet, Rincewind decided, it must be an amulet. The swarthy man backed into the corner.

" That was a very brave thing you did, " said Amulet-holder to Rincewind. " You know that?

" What? "

" What's the matter with your friend? "

" Friend? "

Rincewind looked down at Twoflower, who was still slumbering peacefully. That was no surprise. What was really surprising was that Twoflower was wearing new clothes. Strange clothes. His britches now ended just above his knees. Above that he wore some sort of vest of brightly-striped material. On his head was a ridiculous little straw hat. With a feather in it.

An awkward feeling around the leg regions made Rincewind look down. His clothes had changed too. Instead of the comfortable old robe, so marvellously well-adapted for speed into action in all possible contingencies, his legs were encased in cloth tubes. He was wearing a jacket of the same grey material...

Until now he'd never heard the language the man with the amulet was using. It was uncouth and vaguely Hublandish - so why could he understand every word?

Let's see, they'd suddenly appeared in this dragon after, they'd materialised in this drag, they'd sudd, they'd, they'd - they had struck up a conversation in the airport so naturally they had chosen to sit together on the plane, and he'd promised to show Jack Zweiblumen around when they got back to the States. Yes, that was it. And then Jack had been taken ill and he'd panicked and come through here and surprised this hijacker. Of course. What on earth was " Hublandish"? Dr Rjinswand rubbed his forehead. What he could do with was a drink.

Ripples of paradox spread out across the sea of causality.

Possibly the most important point that would have to be borne in mind by anyone outside the sum totality of the multiverse was that although the wizard and the tourist had indeed only recently appeared in an aircraft in mid-air, they had also at one and the same time been riding on that aeroplane in the normal course of things. That is to say: " while it was true that they had just appeared in this particular set of dimensions, it was also true that they had been living in them all along. It is at this point that normal language gives up, and goes and has a drink.

The point is that several quintillion atoms had just materialized (however, they had not. See below) in a universe where they should not strictly have been. The usual upshot of this sort of thing is a vast explosion but, since universes are fairly resilient things, this particular universe had saved itself by instantaneously unravelling its spacetime continuum back to a point where the surplus atoms could safely be accommodated and then rapidly rewinding back to that circle of firelight which for want of a better term its inhabitants were wont to call The Present. This had of course changed history - there had been a few less wars, a few extra dinosaurs and so on - but on the whole the episode passed remarkably quietly.

Outside of this particular universe, however, the repercussions of the sudden double-take bounced to and fro across the face of The Sum of Things, bending whole dimensions and sinking galaxies without a trace.

All this was however totally lost on Dr Rjinswand, 33, a bachelor, born in Sweden, raised in New Jersey, and a specialist in the breakaway oxidation phenomena of certain nuclear reactors. Anyway, he probably would not have believed any of it.

Zweiblumen still seemed to be unconscious. The stewardess, who had helped Rjinswand to his seat to the applause of the rest of the passengers, was bering over him anxiously.

" I radioed ahead, " she told Rjinswand " there'll be an ambulance waiting when we land Uh, it says on the passenger list that you're a doctor"

" I don't know what's wrong with him, " said Rincewind hurriedly, it might be a different matter if he was a Magnox reactor of course.

" Is it shock of some kind? "

" I've never-"

Her sentence terminated in a tremendous crash from the rear of the plane. Several passengers screamed. A sudden gale of air swept every loose magazine and newspaper into a screaming whirlwind that twisted madly down the aisle.

Something else was coming up the aisle.

Something big and oblong and wooden and brassbound. It had hundreds of legs. If it was what it seemed - a walking chest of the kind that appeared in pirate stories brim full of ill-gotten gold and jewels - then what would have been its lid suddenly gaped open.

There were no jewels. But there were lots of big square teeth, white as sycamore, and a pulsating tongue, red as mahogany.

An ancient suitcase was coming to eat him.

Rjinswand clutched at the unconscious Zweiblumen for what little comfort there was there, and gibbered. He wished fervently that he was somewhere else...

There was a sudden darkness.

There was a brilliant flash.

The sudden departure of several quintillion atoms from a universe that they had no right to be in anyway caused a wild imbalance in the harmony of the Sum Totality which it tried frantically to retrieve, wiping out a number of subrealities in the process. Huge surges of raw magic boiled uncontrolled around the very foundations of the multiverse itself, welling up through every crevice into hitherto peaceful dimensions and causing novas, supernovas, stellar collisions, wild flights of geese and drowning of imaginary continents. Worlds as far away as the other end of time experienced brilliant sunsets of corruscating octarine as highly-charged magical particles roared through the atmosphere. In the cometary halo around the fabled Ice System of Zeret a noble comet died as a prince flamed across the sky.

All this was however lost on Rincewind as, clutching the inert Twoflower around the waist, he plunged towards the Disc's sea several hundred feet below. Not even the convulsions of all the dimensions could break the iron Law of the Conservation of Energy, and Rjinswand's brief journey in the plane had sufficed to carry him several hundred miles horizontally and seven thousand feet vertically.

The word " plane" flamed and died in Rincewind's mind.

Was that a ship down there?

The cold waters of the Circle Sea roared up at him and sucked him down into their green, suffocating embrace. A moment later there was another splash as the luggage, still bearing a label carrying the powerful travelling rune TWA, also hit the sea.

Later on, they used it as a raft.

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