‘The Ring of Brodgor,’ his aunt said, drawing her horse beside him. ‘An ancient place. A site of worship.’

‘For which god?’ he asked.

‘One of the old gods. Storren.’

Storren, god of the earth and all things that grow from it, breathe life into these seeds that they may awaken and flourish. His aunt had invoked the god’s name on many an occasion when they had been planting in their small garden back at the cabin, and the habit of doing so had rubbed off on him when he took it over.

‘The god has always been popular among farming communities,’ his aunt went on, ‘but this holy site has been left unused for some time.’ She gave a little shake of her head. ‘It is a shame when the old ways are forgotten.’

‘Storren is also popular with witches, is he not?’

‘He is. Most of the medicines and treatments we make are produced from plant matter. Those of us who study the Art offer up thanks to the god responsible for those things.’

Making a sudden decision, Lann urged his horse forward towards the circle. Exchanging a glance, Fleya and Astrid followed.

‘Lann?’ Astrid said. ‘Is something the matter?’

He didn’t answer her, but dismounted and approached the circle. He hesitated on the border – where his progress had been barred in his dream – and then took a step inside.

‘What is he doing?’ Astrid asked the witch, her eyes fixed on Lann as he approached the centre of the circle and stopped. He stood there, staring down at something on the ground before slowly reaching down and picking it up.

‘What have you found?’ his aunt asked.

He held the small bauble up so that both of them might see it. Whatever it was, it appeared to be the same colour and finish as the metal of the Dreadblade.

‘More gifts from the gods?’ Fleya said, the strain in her voice clear to hear.

‘Not from the gods this time,’ he answered with a little shake of his head as he walked back towards them. ‘And this was not left here for me.’

‘Then for whom?’

‘Astrid.’ He lifted the trinket up, offering it to her.

Fleya gasped as she saw the armlet up close, the thing causing a great surge of emotion to rise up inside her. She knew the item well. The last time she’d seen it was on her sister’s arm. She had been wearing it the night she died, shortly after giving birth to Lann.

Astrid stared at the black metal band, but made no move to reach out and take it. Without being able to explain why, she felt afraid to do so. There were intricate markings on its surface, but they were strangely difficult to fix with the eye. The more she tried to do so, the more they appeared to shift and blur. She looked to Fleya, as though seeking advice.