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By Douglas Hill

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But to Jarral's eyes it seemed that Archer was a long way off target. The arrow was surely going to fall some twenty paces away from any of the eight-legged horrors. And apparently the Widows realized that, for they were not poised to leap to safety. They had begun to move forward again, as the arrow plummeted harmlessly down. But in the last second Archer's face twisted, neck muscles leaping taut. And the flash of light that was the hurtling arrow swung impossibly sideways. Before the leading Widow could move, the arrow struck its bulging body and skewered it like an insect on a pin.

9 Fateful Warning As Jarral lay immobilized, staring at the serpent, a part of his mind became aware once again of a strange warmth building up across his forehead—the same sensation he had felt when facing the Widow monster in the Wellwood. But before the warmth could become stronger, the creature hissed and struck in a blur of speed, fangs gaping. But that blur met another, just as swift, as Scythe's curved sword flashed above Jarral's body and neatly severed the huge, hooded head. The serpent's body flailed aside, threshing in its death throes, blood reddening the bedclothes.

The demon fell back as if it had run into a wall. Its screech altered from triumph to terror. And then it simply vanished, as if it had never been. Urauld sailed wearily down to land heavily, his eyes fixed on Jarral. " Scythe asked intently. But Urauld shook himself and looked quickly round. "There is no time. You must flee with all the swiftness you can muster, as far from here as you can. With the defeat of the vulture-demon, it is likely that Flameroc himself will come. " Jarral looked astonished.

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