“It’s alright, Zac. We’re okay.”

But such promises were entirely empty, as Silus had no idea where they were.

Shallow dunes stretched away to the horizon; the sky cloudless and bleached almost white by the intense light of the relentless sun.

“Boat, daddy. Boat.”

Silus couldn’t see anything but sand and he didn’t know what had drawn Zac’s attention until he turned around.

The Llothriall sat with its stern facing them. The ground was dark and wet for several yards around the vessel, and fish thrashed in the sand as they drowned. Silus could see barnacles encrusting the wood, and seaweed clinging to the hull in places.

“Katya!” he shouted, as he ran towards the Llothriall. “Kat — ”

His breath caught in his throat as he saw what had happened to their ship.

Beyond the mainmast there was nothing; the Llothriall had been shorn in half as neatly as if it had been struck by an enormous blade.

“Katya?”

“Mummy!” Zac cried, his fists bunching in Silus’s shirt.

There was movement from somewhere within the ship; a sheet fluttered down, followed by a shoe. Silus heard a shriek and looked up to see his wife clinging to a doorframe, beyond which was nothing but a drop to the hot sand.

“Katya, thank the gods. Don’t move.”

He looked about him for any means to help her down, but the only thing nearby was a torn section of sail and it wasn’t long enough to fashion into a rope.

“Heads up!” came a shout, and a length of rope coiled down from the deck.

“Dunsany? Is that you?” Katya called.

“It is! Now, grab hold and climb down.”