Throwing his arms around the stunned Sigarni, he kissed her cheek. ‘I’m a man,’ he said again. ‘Look at me, Sigarni!’
‘You look very fine,’ she said, with a smile. ‘Truly this is a magical place.’
‘He said my worst nightmare awaited me. How wrong can a man be? This is everything I dreamt of. Now I will be able to stand with the others and fight the Outlanders. No more jibes and cruel jokes. Oh, Sigarni…” Abruptly he sat down and began to weep.
‘I brought a spare tunic and leggings,’ said Sigarni. ‘I think they might fit you. Even if they don’t, they’ll look better than the rags you are wearing.’
He nodded and moved to her pack. ‘I could even get married,’ he said, ‘and sire sons. Tall sons!’
‘You always were handsome, Balli, and you’ll make a fine father. Now stop talking and get dressed, we must be moving on.’
Sigarni gazed at the bleak landscape, the sky was slate-grey and the air smelt acrid. Far to the east she could see fires on the horizon as two distant volcanoes spewed hot ash and lava out over the land. ‘Not a hospitable place,’ she said.
‘I think it’s wonderful,’ said Ballistar.
She turned to see him struggling out of his ruined leggings. ‘By Heaven, Balli, has that grown also?’
He giggled. ‘No, it was always this big. Do you like it?’
She laughed. ‘Just cover it, you fool!’
Ballistar dressed and tied the thongs of his new green leggings. They are a little tight,’ he said. ‘Am I as tall as Fell?’
‘No. But you are taller than Bakris and Gwyn. That will have to do.’
Sigarni reached for her bow – and froze. The weapon had rooted itself in the ground and small, slender branches were growing from it. ‘Would you look at that!’ she said. Roots were spreading out from the bow, delving into the grey, ash-covered ground.
‘What about your arrows?’ asked Ballistar. Sigarni swung her quiver clear and pulled a shaft from it; it was unmarked. At that moment a single ray of sunshine seared through the ash-grey sky, a pillar of light bathing what had once been a bow and was now a swiftly growing tree. The sudden warmth was welcome and Sigarni glanced up at the sky, enjoying the feeling of sunlight on her skin. Then it was gone.
Something moved against her chest and, startled, Sigarni glanced down. The small leather pouch was bulging now, and writhing, as if a large rat were inside. Swiftly she ripped it from her neck and hurled it to the ground. The leather split and a white bone protruded, others joining to it. As with Ballistar the bones stretched and grew, cartilage and ligaments slithering over them, pulling joints into sockets. At last a huge skeleton lay on the volcanic ash.
For a moment nothing more happened. Then suddenly, in a vivid burst of colour, red muscle and sinew, flesh and veins danced along its frame, covering lungs and liver, heart and kidneys. Skin flowed over the whole, and silver hair sprouted from head and chin.
For a while Ironhand lay naked on the ground, then took a long shuddering breath. His eyes opened, and he saw Sigarni. ‘I can feel,’ he said. ‘The ground beneath me, the air in my lungs. How is this possible?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Sigarni, removing her green cloak. She cut a hole in the centre and passed it to the naked man.
Ironhand stood and looped it over his head. ‘Where are we?’
‘In the land of Yur-vale,’ Sigarni told him. ‘Taliesen sent us through a magical Gateway.’
‘It is puzzling,’ he said, ‘but, by Grievak, it is good to feel again – andto have two good hands of flesh and blood,’ he added, clenching his fists. ‘Who is this?’ he asked turning to the young man at her side.
‘It is me, Ballistar the Dwarf. The magic made me grow. Though not as tall as you,’ he added, with a frown.
Ironhand chuckled. ‘You are tall enough, boy. What now, daughter?’
She pointed to the twin peaks. ‘We make for the city and find the Crown.’