So many emotions were coursing through Drem, competing to be heard. He felt hurt, deceived, deemed untrustworthy. And the one constant in his life, the solid rock that he had clung to for every remembered moment, his da, was not the man he had thought he was. He sucked in a deep breath.

‘To protect you,’ Olin said. ‘To keep you safe. And, if the truth be known, because remembering . . . hurts.’

‘But, to protect me from what?’ As far back as he could remember Drem’s memories were of an isolated, solitary existence of travelling, moving, only his da for a companion, working many trades as they travelled, on a farm, elsewhere for a blacksmith, hunting and trapping.

‘What exactly were we running from?’

‘From the Kadoshim, from war and death,’ Olin said. Something about his da’s voice was hollow, though. Like when they had been out in the Bonefells being tracked by wolven, and Olin told Drem to go to sleep, that all was well, but really Drem knew it wasn’t. He’d awoken to his da stitching a series of wounds on his shoulder and chest, a dead wolven beside him.

‘There’s more you’re not telling. If I lived at Dun Seren, the home of the Order of the Bright Star, home to the greatest warriors that have ever lived if half of what the tales tell is true, why was I not safe there? Surely leaving Dun Seren put me in greater danger.’

Olin looked away, could not meet his eyes.

‘Please, Da, tell me. I cannot stand the secrets any longer, the not knowing.’ He felt a wash of anger. ‘I’m a man, fully grown. Stop treating me like a bairn!’

Olin met his gaze, a sadness in his eyes. ‘But you’re my bairn,’ he said. ‘And you always will be.’

‘It’s not fair. I deserve to know,’ Drem said. He held his da’s gaze until finally Olin sighed.

‘I took you from Dun Seren to stop a war.’

‘What—’

‘Let me tell it,’ Olin interrupted, ‘and then ask me your questions.’

Drem nodded, gritting his teeth. He felt angry with his da, a rage simmering in his gut.

‘Before your mam died, when the Order marched out to battle the Kadoshim, she . . .’ Olin paused, eyes distant. He drew in a deep breath. ‘She slew a Ben-Elim. It was in Forn Forest. This Ben-Elim was a captain, Galzur was his name. He insulted the Order. When I responded with anger he insulted me and challenged me to a duel. I . . . declined. He struck me.’ Olin stopped, his hand caressing his jaw, as if remembering the blow. ‘And your mother slew him.’

He stopped there, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. ‘What I’d give to go back to that moment and accept Galzur’s challenge. So much would have been different.’

‘What happened? I still don’t understand?’ Drem said.