Having torn the somercastle completely off the car- avel, the dragon now crouched on the stern of the ship.

All that could be seen of the dark beast were fluttering black wings as large as sails, an immense ebony flank, and its serpentine tail sweeping back and forth across the main deck to keep at bay the warriors behind it.

The wyrm raised a black claw above the starboard wale and flung overboard a handful of refuse. Among the debris were a pilot's table and three screaming women.

The witch gasped and would have asked if all sea dragons were so large, except that she feared the question would alarm Captain Fowler. Instead, she watched as the Storm

Sprite and the caravel continued to crash toward each other. Already, the two ships were so close that even when the sea heaved up between them, Ruha did not lose sight of the wyrm's black wings.

At last, Captain Fowler said, "If that wyrm's not the largest ever to fly the Dragonmere, I'm the Prince of

Elves." The Storm Sprite's bow crashed into the trough between two great sea dunes, and the water poured over the forecastle and came frothing down the main deck. "I

hope your magic arrows are powerful ones. A dragon like that could make short work of us."

Ruha thought it wiser not to mention that, unlike most sorcerers Fowler had seen, she could not create magic arrows. Heartland wizards used expensive and exotic ingredients to cast their spells, but desert witches seldom had access to such components. Instead, they fashioned

their enchantments from the elements that ruled their lives: wind, sun, sand and stone, and, most preciously, water. Ruha was particularly adept at sand and sun magic; unfortunately, water was her weakness.

The witch rummaged through her aba until she found a small piece of obsidian. "My spell will cut through the wyrm as a scimitar cuts through a camel thief." She dis- played the black sliver. "But your men must also be ready, for the first blow does not always kill."