The remaining soldiers broke, running. The titanic humped bear roared again and gave chase.

And then it was quiet. Orman stood dragging in cold air, weaving on his feet. He retrieved Svalthbrul and staggered to Jass, who stood motionless, staring off where the great bear – Old Bear – could still be heard crashing through the underbrush.

‘Just in time,’ he gasped.

‘So it’s true,’ Jass murmured in amazement.

‘What’s true?’

‘The old tales. Shapeshifter. Old Bear. The last of them.’

Orman wiped his cold slick face. ‘Or a spell, perhaps.’

Wet coughing pulled his attention round. A soldier. Orman moved off to stand over him. The man lay peering up, his chest a crushed ruin. ‘They warned us,’ he croaked.

Orman crouched on his haunches. ‘What’s that?’ He could barely make out the man’s foreign speech.

‘Them townsfolk,’ the soldier said. ‘They warned us.’ He tried to laugh, but had no air for it.

‘Where are you from?’ Orman asked.

‘Don’t matter.’

‘Where?’

‘Long ways away. Half-fort, Genabackis.’

‘You soldiers?’

‘Mercenaries, lad. You won this one … but I’d run … I was you.’

‘Why?’

‘Straw hut in a flood is you, lad. Compared to what’s comin’ … straw hut …’ The mercenary’s mouth fell slack and his gaze fixed. Orman pressed a hand down the man’s face to close his eyes.

The Reddin brothers came up, Keth limping and Kasson cradling his bloodied left arm. Gerrun was hunched over the dead, rummaging through their clothes.

Orman studied the three of them: the brothers and Jass. He motioned uphill. ‘Let’s go.’

‘What about Old Bear?’ Jass asked.

‘He’ll find us.’

‘And these bodies?’

‘Leave them for the scavengers – as a warning.’

Keth nodded. He and his brother bound their wounds then waved to Gerrun. They headed back the way they came.

They could only limp a few leagues before bedding down for the night. They kept a watch just in case any of the soldiers came hunting them. Orman didn’t think that any of them would have escaped Old Bear, but it was best to be careful.

The next day Old Bear emerged from the brush to join them. He looked his old self, except perhaps the great shaggy bear hide he wore appeared a little worse for wear, hacked and slashed even more. Now, though, Orman knew he would never again look upon the man in the same way as before.

‘You could have told us,’ he accused him.

The old man grinned hugely. Even his frosty bad eye seemed to glint in delight. ‘And ruin the surprise? Should’ve seen your faces! I’m sure you soiled your breeches, Orman Bregin’s son.’

‘Only from your smell.’

The old man guffawed his huge laugh. He slapped Jass’s back. ‘There you go, lad. Not so bad, hey?’

But Jass shook his head. ‘We would’ve lost.’