‘Stern. Big men with her. Smelled of mead.’

‘That’s her,’ said Drem.

‘Good enough.’ Sig nodded. ‘Well done, Rab.’

Rab bobbed his head and puffed his feathers out.

Welcome,’ he croaked.

‘Now, would you fly ahead and have a look at this mine for us?’ Sig asked.

‘Course,’ Rab squawked and then he was flapping away.

Drem led them on.

‘How did my mam die?’ a voice said. Sig looked down to see Drem walking beside her, leading his horse by its reins. Hammer was following at her own pace, treading her own path at the edge of Sig’s vision.

‘She was slain by a Kadoshim, at the Battle of Varan’s Fall,’ Sig said, a rush of memory flooding her mind. Of trees and Kadoshim and blood.

‘I know that,’ Drem said. ‘I have the Kadoshim’s tooth.’ He drew his sword and showed Sig the hilt of his father’s blade.

‘I remember,’ Sig said. ‘I helped your father hunt the beast. Moloch was its name. It was the Kadoshim that struck your mam down. Olin made it scream when finally we brought it to bay. It was not a quick death.’

Drem nodded, looked as if he was storing that piece of knowledge deep inside.

‘Varan’s Fall?’ Drem said. ‘My da said it was an ambush.’

‘Aye. In the north of Forn Forest. We were after the Kadoshim’s captain, second only to Asroth. His name is Gulla. But we were over-confident, did not scout ahead properly. Dead Kadoshim were heaped around your mam in piles that day. She and your da fought back to back, but were cut off from the rest of us for a while. Many of our sword-kin fell that day. Gunil,’ she whispered, then fell silent, remembering the others who had been cut off and slain. Brave, noble Varan. And his brother . . .

Gunil. How I miss you. A memory of his smile filled her mind, the way it would start in his eyes.

‘Gunil?’ Drem said.

His ears are good.

‘A giant,’ Sig said. ‘A friend.’

More than a friend.

‘You were close?’

‘Aye,’ Sig sighed.

I have never spoken of Gunil to anyone before. There is something about this lad, a goodness in him.

‘Death and heartache are all about,’ Drem said quietly. He looked up at Sig. ‘So, Gulla was responsible for my mam’s death, then. He did not strike the blow, but he led the attack.’

‘Aye, you could say that.’ Sig nodded.

‘And responsible for your Gunil’s death, too.’

Sig regarded him a long moment.

‘Aye,’ she growled.

Rab flapped and threaded through a gap in the canopy above.

‘It’s close,’ the crow squawked. ‘Buildings, torches burning.’

‘There it is,’ Drem said, though the place hardly needed pointing out.