Claire rubbed at her hairline, swearing as she pressed into a growing lump. She’d woken up in a crumpled heap, a hard surface poking into her back, and blackness slowly receding. At first, she’d thought she’d imagined the journey and the creature, that she’d been struck by lightning in the National Park and sailed into unconsciousness, but now she sat up she saw that wasn’t so. For one thing, the land around her was flat and devoid of even small shrubs, nothing like the uneven terrain and trees crowding out the park’s skyline. She waved a hand in front of her eyes, but the scenery didn’t change. No greenery or hills as far as her vision extended. No insect or bird noises. She shivered at the emptiness.

James had woken up face to face with Suranne somewhere lush. Where was Claire’s welcoming party and why was the land nothing like what he’d described? She shifted her legs to one side, wincing at the pins and needles as squashed muscles came to life. Her hands pressed into something cold and hard. Perhaps the land she sat on would give her some clues as to her whereabouts? Claire looked down, blinking past the swimming headache forming.

She gasped, involuntarily pulling her hands away. The ground was black and glassy, like Shale after a bad bushfire had passed around the town, only there wasn’t the burnt-out vegetation for people to crush underfoot. Instead of charred foliage or even dirt, the ground felt hard like ice too, though it wasn’t slippery. She wouldn’t want to fall off her horse here. She’d get some sweet bruises. This place gave Claire the creeps, everything tinged with a sinister Alice in Wonderland unreality that could snap at any moment.

She took in a deep breath of air to steady herself, relieved to find it was clean and crisp. Looking up nervously, she hoped the sky would be normal too.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she said, her eyes widening.

Instead of shades of blue, Claire stared straight up at a sky filled with colours of the rainbow, but turning her head, she saw that this brilliantly coloured patch didn’t extend all the way to the horizon. At its rippling edges, what presumably was the ordinary, moody grey sky was visible. The colour burst had blocked out the sun and clouds.

If the sky wasn’t usually a kaleidoscope of whirling colours, then maybe not all of the ground was hard and black. Maybe the land her father had described was just out of view.

Claire’s teeth chattered and she wondered how long she’d been unconscious. Hugging herself, she realised how damp her navy cotton t-shirt was, and her jeans for that matter. Her journey to this place must have been the source of the moisture. She tried to think of a plan. She couldn’t stay in this wilderness, that was certain. Without shelter and dry, warm clothing, she’d freeze to death. Not to mention that she’d need food and drink eventually.

She looked around. Had Marcus come this way? She hadn’t seen any sign of him, but then, she couldn’t see signs of any living thing. Running her tongue along the back of her teeth, the way she did in school when she was nervous, she struggled to her feet. To her far right, she saw what looked like dark shadows, possibly mountains. They were the only feature in this vast flat plain, and her father had mentioned seeing mountains when he’d first arrived in Kelnarium, so that way would do. She smoothed wrinkles out of her jeans and shirt, then set off.

She’d been trudging for what felt an age, the mountains in the distance getting closer, when the crashing of hooves caught her attention. She squinted – she could see silhouettes to her left out of the corner of her eye. She counted eight, no, nine figures on horseback, heading straight for her. Soon, they’d be parallel, but they weren’t looking her way at all. Her ears rang as hooves kicked against hard ground. Were these people friend or foe? Dad hadn’t mentioned any baddies in Kelnarium, but she hadn’t exactly asked either. But she was hopelessly lost so she didn’t really have another option except to try and get their attention and hope for the best. She counted to ten, trying to slow her speeding heart, then jumped up and down, waving her hands over her head and yelling, “I’m over here.”

There was an answering chorus of shouts as the riders drew nearer. The galloping slowed to a trot. Tears of relief sprang into her eyes. She’d been more scared than she’d admitted to herself about being stuck in a strange world all alone. She hastily wiped her tears away. “Please, I’m lost.”

They were only a few feet away now. A man who looked a few years younger than her dad led the group, his hair hidden under a scuffed metal helmet. As he leapt from his horse, flinging the reins to the boy behind him, Claire looked enviously at the man’s thick crimson cloak. He glanced at her bare arms, then turned back to the boy, pointing at a leather saddlebag attached to his saddle. The boy twisted around to pull a bundle out of the bag, then clicked his tongue, prompting his horse to move closer to Claire. With a shy smile, he put the cloak into Claire’s outstretched hands with a murmured, “My Lady,” and a small bow.

Before Claire could express surprise at the strange way he addressed her, the leader of the group stepped closer and the boy fell back. “I apologise profusely for our delay, Lady Claire. It was unintentional, I assure you,” the man said. “We tried to summon you closer to the Manor, but …” He shrugged apologetically. “Magic is an imprecise art these days. At least we had our salamanders to guide us.”

“You summoned me?” Claire couldn’t help the note of incredulity creeping into her voice. She was too surprised to even question the man’s use of “Lady Claire” or his casual mention of lizard-like creatures (which she couldn’t see) leading them to her. For some reason, she’d been imagining a magic user as someone with white hair, covered in weird signs and symbols, and with an intense energy that crackled. This guy was obviously a leader, but he seemed like any other authority figure from Claire’s own world. In spite of his clothing and the odd things he said, he seemed kind of boring and, well, ordinary.

He laughed nervously, fingering his leather belt, and stroking the edge of the knife tied to it. “Not I, no. Best let your grandfather explain. He’s expecting you.” He took her limp hand in his own and bowed his head. “My name’s Rael. I am the captain of the Dorran Guards and we’ll make sure you get home safe.” Behind him, men and women half-bowed in their saddles towards her. “It’s good to meet you at long last, Lady Claire,” he said as he released her hand.

“Thanks,” she muttered, questions clamouring, but only one mattering. “Is Marcus with … with my grandparents?”

“It’s just Lord Dorran now. Your grandmother, Lady Dorran, died six years ago.” Rael glanced around warily. “Come. No one wants to spend more time in the Riftlands than they have to.” He turned from her, and before she could protest at his evasion of her question, he remounted his steed. When he waved his hand impatiently, a woman with green eyes like Claire’s kneed her own horse forward. She was leading a spare mount, saddled but riderless.

“Can you ride like your brother?” the woman asked brusquely.

“Yes. I’m a better rider than he is, but—”

“Perfect,” Rael said. “We’d best be off.” With a soft command, he turned his mare as Claire grasped her own horse’s leather stirrups. The men and women formed their horses into a semi-circle around him and Claire as she mounted.

“Her name’s Shera,” Rael explained. Before Claire could say anything, he sat up straight and dug his heels gently into his horse’s flank so that the mare began to trot. Her own horse, Shera, fell into line right behind Rael’s as two other riders hemmed her in from either side. She patted Shera’s neck affectionately. If she gave Shera free reign and closed her eyes, she could imagine she was riding with Marcus on the farm.

***

Claire didn’t know how much time had passed. An hour or two? The landscape they rode through was still bare, though the air felt less icy and her lungs had lost their dull ache. At least they were on a proper trail now, dry dirt underfoot instead of that odd black glass stuff, and there were spindly shrubs either side, albeit grey and brown. Mountains tinged with cloud and mist rose in the distance and ahead, the land dipped into a valley.

“Is it much farther?” she called ahead to Rael. There was still no sign of the verdant richness her dad had described.

“We’ll be home by dinner,” he yelled back.

“And?” Claire couldn’t help but feel that getting information out of Rael was like expecting her horse, Shera, to answer her back. He’d barely spoken to her this whole trip.

He swivelled around in his saddle to face her, rubbing at the red-brown stubble on his chin. “Things will be clearer soon enough.” Glancing away from her, back to the path ahead, he muttered, “Best keep an eye on the road. We’re about to pass through one of the camps.”

Something in the tight control in his voice made her shiver, like he was a wire pulled too taut. She rose in her stirrups to crane over Rael’s shoulder. In the distance, she made out dull, weather-stained fabric flapping in the wind. She wanted to ask what Rael meant by camps but something in his voice warned her not to; it was the same kind of strained tone James used when people in Shale prodded about Suranne’s past.

Soon, the party rode beside ramshackle lean-tos and dirty animal skin tents; about twenty in total, creating a rectangular scar on the landscape. Claire steered Shera around a pile of refuse and three children playing as Rael pinched the bridge of his nose with two slender fingers. The other riders muttered to themselves.

“Animals,” Rael said in a low voice.

Claire glanced at him in surprise as Shera drew level with his mare. She wanted to ask what these people had done to piss him off, but she didn’t know the guy and was new to this world. Besides, she was too busy trying to avoid cooking pits, makeshift washing lines and children to say something.

As the horses carefully picked their way around obstacles, people came out of stained tents. Dressed in undyed sheep wool tunics over threadbare pants and covered in sores, they stared at the party. Claire reckoned there were about sixty people in total.

One woman ran forward, flinging herself in front of Rael’s horse. Her hands touched the tips of his boots. “Just a little money, kind sir, good man. Just a little to use at Pleath Village.” Her lips were cracked and dry, her words slurred from a swollen tongue.

“Even if I give you coin, you are no more welcome to buy there than you are at Dorran Village and Manor,” he said coldly as he pulled his horse away to brush past her.

He undid the top tie on his cloak, revealing a thick scarf beneath. He unwound it from his neck and tied it over his mouth and nose. “I have a spare for you,” he said to Claire, his voice muffled.

Claire shook her head, hearing rustling behind her as the rest of their party followed suit. She was shocked at Rael’s callousness. Why were these poor people living in such squalor? “Why don’t you help them?” she asked.

Rael looked at her blandly. “This is their punishment, Lady Claire. It is justice.”

“I don’t know what they’ve done but isn’t this a little extreme?”

“With all due respect,” Rael said. “You were not born here. You don’t know anything about us.”

“But surely my grandfather doesn’t support this.” She thought of Suranne making soups and fresh bread and hotpots for the homeless shelter. “If he’s anything like my mother I know he’d want to help.”

“You don’t understand,” Rael snapped. He took a deep breath. “Apologies. I shouldn’t have barked at you, Lady Claire. It’s not your fault. Your grandfather is good at explaining things. After you speak to him, everything will be clearer.”

Claire didn’t bother arguing. She’d made the mistake of thinking about her parents and now a terrible lead weight sat in her stomach. She hoped she’d find her brother soon and get home, so they could all be reunited. They’d be going spare with worry. Still, this was a world of magic, she reminded herself. She couldn’t help a small grin. Surely no one would blame her if she went back to Shale after she’d had a chance to experiment with it a bit.