fiercely he urged Thane to mount and cantered out into the lake, swimming as fast as he could through the ice-cold water.

The sky above the lake darkened as Ogion led his Queen over the last tumbled ridges of the ice field. On either side two swans supported her tired wings, easing her down on to the water. Ousious crashed, ungracefully, in a spray of white foam and lay floating, head down and wings outstretched.

Ogion landed beside her and pulled at her head, pecking at the close downy feathers to keep it above the water.

Stumble had reached the place where Ousious lay and

Thane reached out and pulled the drowning swan up out of the cold water then laid her across the high pommel of the saddle. Gently he took her head and tucked it inside his shirt, folded her wings and wrapped his cloak around her cold shivering body. Stumble slowly turned and swam back to the bank, flanked on either side by the whispering swans.

Jumping quickly out of the wet saddle Thane opened his cloak and laid Ousious on the beach. Turning her over he saw the broken spear blade protruding out of her chest. 'Krulshards'

black metal!' he muttered between clenched teeth, loosing the dagger from his belt and drawing it out.

Standing up he faced Ogion and the close-packed beach of swans that encircled him. 'Ogion, your Queen will die if I do not try to pull the Nightmare's blade out of her chest.'

Ogion stepped forward hissing and touched the dagger with his beak. Thane smiled and dropped on to his knees, spreading his ragged travel-worn cloak across Ousious shivering body. 'Fetch me kindling sticks and fire-wood. I must clean the blade of my dagger of any trace of Nightbeast blood with fire before it touches the Queen of Swans. Go quickly for time is our enemy.'

Thane searched out his spark and dried it in the palm of his hand while the swans built a pile of kindling sticks on the!

beach. Kneeling again he held Ousious' head in his hand'

and whispered to her, 'The blade will be white, fire-hot ant as pure as the day Durondel hammered it on his anvil.'

Ousious opened her eyes.

'We will follow Elionbel together,' Thane whispered, 'when you are strong and healed from this terrible wound.'

Ousious closed her eyes and hissed quietly, her orange beak quivering in his hand. Turning his head, Thane threw the spark, lighting the pile of kindling and waited until the base of the fire had burned into a bed of white-hot ash.

Picking up the dagger he thrust it hilt deep into the ashes and watched the almost invisible smears of foul Nightbeast blood bubble and hiss as they burned away.

'Merion, give me your skill!' Thane whispered, trying to remember what he had seen the Healer do to remove the broken spear blades from the injured warriors of Underfall.

Gripping the jagged protruding splinter of black steel he pulled hard. Ousious screamed, arching her back away from the ground. Easing his hand from the broken blade he sat and thought, forming a picture of the dark fortress at Underfall and the small stone cell where Merion mended the Nightmare wounds. Clearly he saw him hurrying and singing as he opened the edges of a wound with a long curved blade and easily removed the slivers of steel or broken arrow-heads.

Something glittered in his hands - thread, gold and silver.

Deftly, the Healer would sew the jagged tears together, sometimes pouring new blood into the wound. 'Now I know,'

he whispered, closing his hand on the hilt of his dagger, but

he had forgotten the fire and screamed as the hot metal burned his skin.

'Nevian, give me courage!' he shouted, clenching his burned fingers around the hot metal hilt and cueing two deep incisions into the swan's chest beside the broken splinter.

Warm blood gushed up, cooling the blade and flooding across his burning knuckles. With his other hand he grabbed the splinter and wrenched it free. Ousious lay limp and still on the ground, her chest feathers matted and sticky, and the edges of

the wound slipped in Thane's fingers as he tried to stop the bleeding. He knew she would die if he could not give her new

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blood and close the edges of the wound. In despair he turned the dagger and with one stroke gashed his wrist, crying out and biting his tongue as the blade cut through the skin.

'Live, Queen of Swans,' he cried, forcing his bleeding wrist against Ousious' chest, plunging it deep into the gaping wound.

Stumble neighed and pushed hard against his ann, rubbing his coa.r.s.e mane on Thane's cheek. Thane turned his head crossly to send Stumble away, but a shaft of winter sunlight broke through the clouds at that moment and touched the little horse's neck, shining on the mane.

'Silver and gold!' Thane cried, dropping the dagger and reaching out with his free hand he pulled a handful of the coa.r.s.e hair from Stumble's crest. Faintness was sweeping over Thane in waves, he felt dizzy and light-headed. 'I must hurry,' he whispered, using the point of the dagger to pierce small holes on either side of the wound. Deftly he threaded strands of hair from hole to hole, looping the ends with his free hand. Bending forward he gripped each hair in turn in his teeth and pulled the knots tight. The last strand tied he sank back on to his heels and smiled weakly at Ogion.

'It is done!' he whispered, closing his eyes and falling forwards in a black faint.

Ogion pecked gently at his Queen's wing, nudging her against Thane's side out of the bitter wind. Motioning to the leader of swans he bade them cover Thane and Ousious with the cloak and keep the beach fire ablaze with kindling wood until he returned. Bending his neck he stared at the b.l.o.o.d.y splinter of black steel that lay where Thane had dropped it and hissed in rage. Picking it up in his beak he walked towards the water's edge to throw it away.

'What treasure do you carry, Lord of Swans?' called an ancient voice from the top of the bank above the pebblestrewn beach. Ogion turned, dropping the broken blade and spread his wings to charge. Nevian laughed and sprang light, down the bank on to the beach.

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'Master of Magic!' Ogion hissed, folding his wings. 'It is as you foretold. This search for Krulshards has led us to our doom. Ousious, my Queen, lies near to death and I fear that the spear thrust cut more than just flesh. I fear that it is the beginning of our silence.'

Nevian frowned and shook the rainbow cloak, sending brilliant shafts of summer light across the cold winter beach.

'Fate is a cruel master but even your Queen has played her part, for the Master Armourer of Elundium would call that broken blade beside your webbed foot a treasure rare and beautiful!'

'It is Nightmare steel, foul and black with shadows, marked with the blood of my Queen.'

'Yet,' whispered Nevian, pulling aside the cloak that covered Thane and Ousious, 'it failed to take her life and could be turned in purpose against the hand that threw it, against the Nightmare's heart. Take it, Lord of Swans, and carry it to Durondell for he has a great need of such strong metal.'

'Why should I spoil my beak for the skill of the Armourer?

He forges our death in the battle tools he makes in the heat of his furnace.'

Nevian reached out and touched Ogion's neck and pointed down at Thane. 'He gave his blood to save your Queen. The splinter of steel is his by right. Carry it for him to Durondell and repay the debt.'

Ogion bent his neck and held closed the ugly slash on Thane's wrist with his beak, until the sluggish flow of blood stopped altogether.

'You foretold he would protect us and for his deeds this day I will carry the blade.' Taking up the black metal in his beak he beat a path out across the lake and rose up over the ice field to vanish from the Magician's sight.

Nevian smiled, rubbing his age-wrinkled hand through Stumble's mane and pulled a coloured thread from the hem of his rainbow cloak. 'Great deeds are in the making,' he whispered, neatly sewing up the ugly gash on Thane's wrist

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before placing it back beneath the travel-worn cloak. 'Great deeds!' he sighed, looking out across Swanwater.

210.

The Sword is Reforged

Durondell, the Master Armourer, looked across at the dampened forge, rubbed his eyes and peered through the blue haze of wood smoke that drifted out into the winter sunlight.

The clatter of hoofbeats filled the air.

'Who comes to the Forge of Durondell?' he shouted, striking his long-handled blennishing hammer on the spike of

the anvil. 'Come forward, warriors!' he cried, rising from his chair and impatiently wiping his spark-blackened hands on the edge of his leather ap.r.o.n before crossing the ashtrampled floor to where Thoron stood undecided between the wideflung doors.

'What has brought you in search of me? Hard riding on the Lord of Horses with a proud squadron of Gallopers must warrant a mighty cause. Come forward and speak!'

Thoron drew back out into the sunlight, his hand tight on Eguestrius' rein. 'Nevian bid me find you.'

Durondell laughed, casting his eye over the Gallopers.