By the afternoon they reached the foothills that marked the start of the range known as Grunwelfe. The mild weather of late had caused the pastures to erupt in a sea of colour as wild flowers bloomed among the grass, bringing with them a host of bees and small butterflies.

‘It reminds me of the hills near the farm where I grew up,’ Lann said to Astrid when she saw him smiling at the view. ‘When my mother died, I’d ride out on my own for hours on end. I spent a lot of my time in wild pastures like this.’

‘I’d like to see the Maiden’s Fingers one day.’

‘Maybe when all this is over, I’ll take you there. Compared to the place you grew up in, it would seem dull and uninteresting, but it was home to me.’

Reaching up, she touched the small medallion hanging around her neck. Fleya had given it to her before they’d set off with instructions not to take it off unless she wanted to invite dangerous majik. It was another reminder of how strange and perilous the enterprise they were undertaking was.

As they were crossing a river at a natural ford, she took a moment to study the boy riding alongside her. He was handsome in a way that was not obvious. Steely grey eyes stared out from a strong face, and the first wisps of his beard were beginning to show on his jawline. More endearing still was the way he seemed completely oblivious to his good looks. She blushed a little when he turned to catch her regarding him. ‘You look good on that horse,’ she said, nodding at both rider and mount.

‘It’s a fine animal.’

She gave a little laugh. ‘And so it should be. It was my father’s own horse.’

Lann stared across at her to see if she might be joking with him. He looked down at the animal in astonishment. ‘Why would Erik give me such a thing?’

‘My brother holds you in high esteem, Lannigon Gudbrandr. Mistglar is a fitting gift for Stromgard’s newest and youngest jarl. I hope she proves as good a companion to you as she did for my father over the years.’

It was late in the day when Fleya called out for them to halt. They’d reached the pass in the hills that would be the safest and easiest route into Vorneland.

‘We will stop here and make camp. We are close to the border and I would like to send our escort back before the night is completely upon us.’ The witch waved away the guards’ protests, pointing out they were anyway no more than a couple of miles from the frontier.

They watched the Stromgardians ride off, then set about putting up a shelter for the night.