The Colour of Magic

grass that rushed toward 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 onto 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 toward 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 midair 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’s 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’s sword came up wickedly, to be caught on the