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All in black it was – some sort of black-hued plated armour, complete with gauntlets and helmet. But it was holding out a seashell containing a few sips of water and this Dancer gingerly took, nodding. He drank it.

The monster sat back, echoed the nod.

Peering round, he could see no sign of Kellanved. Alarmed, he rose – or tried to – and would have fallen but for the creature taking his weight. He motioned that he wished to go outside, and the thing nodded again and walked him out of the enclosure.

They were at the coast. White sands sloped down to turquoise waters.

‘My friend,’ he asked hoarsely. ‘Where is he?’

But the creature just shook its armoured head.

Just up from the strand more of the black-armoured things were busy working on what could only be described as a large raft. Dancer spotted another rickety dwelling and pointed. His nursemaid nodded again and walked him over to it.

Within, he found Kellanved and another of the creatures, apparently talking.

The mage looked up, beaming. ‘Ah! With us at last. Excellent!’

‘What’s going on? Who – what – are these?’

‘These are our benefactors. Saviours. One of them spotted us and brought us here. All due to you, my friend. Apparently you nearly crawled right into the sea. Anyway, they are stranded here, just as we are.’

‘And … what … are they?’

The mage’s grey brows rose in incredulity. ‘You have not heard of the legendary Moranth?’

Dancer felt his shoulders falling. ‘No. I have not heard of the legendary Moranth.’

Kellanved lifted a single brow in disapproval. ‘Well, they are a people of the continent of Genabackis. You have heard of that, I should hope.’

At the word Genabackis the two Moranth nodded.

Dancer gave his companion a thin smile. ‘Yes, thank you, I have heard of Genabackis.’

‘Very good. Now, as far as I can make out, our friends were exiled, or fled, from their homeland and ended up here. Struck the coast and have been stranded ever since. Sailing not one of their skills, apparently.’

Dancer eyed the armoured monsters. ‘Just what is it they do, then?’

An eager smile came to Kellanved. ‘Oh, they are soldiers, my friend. Bred from birth.’

Dancer grunted, impressed despite himself. ‘Well, thank them and let’s get going.’

The mage tapped his fingertips together, and Dancer knew there was a problem. ‘Well …’ Kellanved began, ‘that’s the thing. Remember I said that the Warrens were all torn apart and pretty much inaccessible across these lands?’

Dancer frowned. Actually, he didn’t. ‘What of it?’

‘Well … they are. And so we’re stuck here. Unless, of course, our friends here,’ and he gestured to their hosts, ‘find it within their generosity to grant us a place on the fine craft they are currently constructing.’

Now Dancer scowled his disgust. ‘I saw it. That raft is a sad piece of trash.’

Kellanved raised a hand for silence. He turned to the Moranth he’d been speaking to. ‘As I said, Tull, I can send you home if you would just take us far enough from land.’

‘No room,’ the monster answered, startling Dancer.

Kellanved opened his hands. ‘Yes. I understand. But if you make room I will send you back to Genabackis.’

‘You lie for room,’ Tull replied.

Kellanved pressed a hand to his head in exasperation. ‘Have you no mages among you? None of that – caste – who deal with the unseen? Who do things you cannot?’

Tull nodded his armoured head. ‘Ah. You speak of Silvers. Priests and sages. You are priest?’

Kellanved continued to rub his brow. ‘Something like that. Now – once I am far enough from the coast I assure you I will be able to send all of you to Genabackis. Really. I promise.’

Tull lumbered to his feet. ‘I will speak to our commander.’

‘Thank you,’ Kellanved answered.

Both the Moranth left the enclosure, which was nothing more than a hut of driftwood, and Dancer looked at his companion. ‘We could build our own raft.’

‘I believe we’ll get farther with all of them paddling.’

Now Dancer shook his head. ‘I mean it. We’re better off on our own.’

‘Maybe not necessarily. I sense opportunity here. I really can send them along to Genabackis. Well,’ and he rubbed his chin, ‘as close as I can manage, anyway.’

Their two Moranth companions returned with a third. Dancer could tell who was who by differences in the armour plates enclosing them. This new one’s armour was very scarred and bent, as if he’d seen a lot of battle. He knelt on his haunches before Kellanved, and, alarming Dancer, reached out to take a handhold of the mage’s short kinky hair in an armoured, gauntleted hand.

‘We make room,’ this one said – the commander. ‘But if you lie we cut off arm and cook then eat before you. Then next arm. Then leg. You understand?’

Kellanved swallowed, and nodded in an exaggerated manner. ‘Yes. I understand. Very good. Thank you. Yes.’

The commander released his handhold and rose. ‘Agreed, then.’

Kellanved raised a hand. ‘Ah – how soon do we go?’

‘Soon,’ this one said.

‘And your name? You are …?’

The Moranth commander paused, peering down at the mage. ‘My name? If changed to your language? Would be Twist.’

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