It was slow going on his broken leg, particularly in the places where the undergrowth was dense enough to tangle around their feet, and Drenn quickly became visibly frustrated at their lack of progress. That annoyed the wizard, who was going as fast as the pain allowed him, and he found himself wishing that Timothy was with them, so he could heal him. Don't be selfish, he scolded himself. The others might need him more than we do. We're on our own. We have to solve our own problems.

     His main problem, though, was his broken leg, and there was nothing he could do about that, or was there? An idea came to him and he asked Matthew to lower him to the ground. "I just remembered something," he told the others. "Something another wizard did once when he broke a leg. He mended it, with a Mend spell. A spell normally used on pottery and suchlike. It was never intended to be used on bones, but it worked nevertheless. I'm going to try it myself."

     "That is not wise," warned Drenn, however. "Healing is the province of the Gods. Beware lest you arouse their jealousy."

     "I'm not going to heal it, just mend the bone," replied Thomas. "The Gods know the difference, I'm sure." He fished around in his pockets for the material components and spoke the words, one hand on his leg at the point where he guessed the break to be. The place where the flesh was blackened and swollen with internal bleeding.

     The pain was such a surprise that he almost cried out. Only Matthew's earlier warnings preventing him from doing so. He couldn't prevent a hard grunt from escaping from between his clenched teeth, though, and he felt new sweat beading his brow. Under the pain, though, there was a strange feeling in his leg. The feel of something moving, as though the bone had acquired an independent life of its own and was experimentally flexing its muscles.

     When Matthew helped him back to his feet he was relieved to find that the leg now supported his weight. The spell hadn't done anything for the torn and damaged ligaments, though, or ruptured blood vessels, and the injury was still as inflamed and painful as ever, making every step an ordeal. "See?" he told the priest. "It's far from healed."

     Drenn grunted. "I'll see what I can do for you later," he said. "My Lord's presence is weak in this universe, but I may still be able to channel enough holy power for a minor healing. Enough for you to make a little more speed, perhaps."

     "He put all the healing power he had into your head this morning," added Matthew. "For all I know, he saved your life."

     "I'll pray to Samnos to thank him," said Thomas, and the priest nodded before turning his attention back to the way ahead.

     Thomas could walk now, after a fashion, but his leg was still stiff and painful and he found it hard to keep up with the others. His leg was crying out for rest and a chance to heal and his imagination conjured up alarming images of damaged tendons being weakened further by the loads he was putting on them.

     As time went by, though, he was surprised to find the going a little easier as the swelling began to subside, the exercise forcing leaking fluids back into surrounding tissues, and by the time night began to fall he was keeping up with the others quite well. He dreaded having to stop for the night though, knowing that his leg would be so stiff by morning that it would be almost useless, but there was no avoiding it. He needed sleep if he was going to be of any use to the others when the natives attacked. He would need a clear head to be able to cast his spells.

     Drenn took them to a ruined building he'd found earlier. The lowest level was full of compacted earth and shade loving plants, but a flight of stone steps led up to the next level whose floor, the priest had determined, was still strong enough to take their weight.

     "There're two other exits, round the back," he explained as they settled in a corner of a room whose stone walls were covered by a living wallpaper of moss and lichen. "We've got two escape routes if they attack us here, and the place is well defensible. It's as safe a place to make camp as we're likely to find."

     "Do you think we'll be attacked?" asked Matthew.

     "I doubt very much that they'll simply give up and forget about us, unless our short trek took us out of their territory. No, I think we'll be attacked, and by considerably more than we faced the first time." He knelt down beside Thomas, who'd collapsed gratefully in the corner and was rolling up his trouser leg to examine his injury. "Are you up to a fight?" he asked.

     "So long as we don't have to move around too much," the wizard replied. "I'll give them something to think about."

     "Good man," The priest patted him on the shoulder, then set about seeing to his own comfort.

     They were ill equipped for camping out. They had no sleeping blankets and no food except a couple of small animals the soldiers had caught and cooked while Thomas had been unconscious and which shared out into dismally small portions. They spent a cold, hungry night in the ruined building, the four fighting men taking turns, two at a time, to keep watch, allowing Thomas to sleep the whole night through.

     When he awoke the next morning, feeling much better and fully refreshed, he found the others puzzling over the fact that they hadn't been attacked yet. "They can't have lost us," said Drenn, pacing back and forth across the dusty floor and peering periodically out through a half overgrown window. "We left a trail a blind man could have followed."

     "They must be pretty confident they've got us," agreed Matthew. "So confident that they're in no hurry. I'll bet the building's surrounded by now. We could try sneaking away, but..."

     The priest nodded thoughtfully. "We're better off staying here for the time being, at least until we've taught them to fear us. The worst thing we can do is let them catch us out in the open. I say we stay here until they attack, then make a run for it when we've inflicted heavy losses on them."

     "Run?" said Thomas doubtfully, whose leg had swollen and seized up just as he'd feared it would. "I'm not running anywhere!"

     "One of us'll carry you," promised Drenn. "We need you. You're our only chance of getting back home, unless we find Saturn."

     "So I'm safe as long as I'm useful to you?" asked Thomas, feigning a look of hurt indignation.

     Drenn stared at him in shock. "We'd take you with us whether you were useful to us or not!" he protested indignantly. "I didn't mean to suggest..."

     "Relax!" laughed Thomas, sharing an amused glance with Matthew. "I'm sorry, I forgot you're not used to our strange sense of humour. I know you wouldn't leave me. You're a priest of Samnos. I know you'd give your life for me. For any of us."

     Drenn stared at him suspiciously, as if expecting another joke, but then he nodded and returned to the window, looking out over the country outside, while Matthew and Thomas shared another amused look and tried to stifle their laughter.

     The priest spent the next couple of hours praying, trying to contact his God over the immense gulf that now separated them, while Thomas pored over his spellbook, re-reading the fiercest attack spells he knew. Matthew, Jop Sonno and Roj Villa each took one of the building's three exits, keeping a careful watch and calling out to each other at intervals to let each other know they hadn't been killed by enemies sneaking in.

     As midday drew near and the sun finally became visible in the thin strip of sky between the towering buildings, Drenn came over to sit beside Thomas and placed his hands on his black and swollen leg. He prayed to Samnos to heal the wizard, and Thomas felt the tiniest trickle of healing power flowing into his leg. A minuscule amount compared to the torrents he'd occasionally received from Matthew's sister Diana; a cleric of Caroli, the healer.

     It had some beneficial effect, though. The swelling went down a little and the skin regained some of its original colour, but the joint was still stiff and painful.

     "Exercise it," Drenn told him. "Pace across the room. When we go, we'll have to go fast, and we may all be too busy defending ourselves to carry you. You may have to run." Thomas nodded and climbed painfully back to his feet.

     He was rewarded over the course of the next hour or so by the slight loosening of his leg, although at the cost of undoing some of the good Drenn's healing prayers had done, but he got to the point where he thought he could make some speed hobbling along on one leg if he had to. He was just about to give Drenn the good news when a cry went up from another room, followed a moment later by Roj Villa, running in with an alarmed expression on his face.

     "They're here!" he gasped. "I saw movement in the greenery outside the western door! They're closing in on us!"

     "We'll make a stand here," said Drenn as Matthew and Jop Sonno joined them. "The four of us in a line here, the wizard behind us where he can cast spells over and between us." He drew his sword. "This is it, everyone. Have courage and stand firm."