‘And your queen?’ Astrid’s voice was little more than a whisper as she remembered Lann’s explanation of the sword’s judgement of both individuals.

‘Queen Favner is dead too,’ the soldier said. ‘At the hands of her husband-to-be. King Rinkor rules Vorneland now,’ he said, pulling himself together and handing Lann the knife. ‘He requests an urgent audience with the three of you.’

‘Rinkor?’ Fleya said. ‘The captain who captured us?’

‘No longer a captain. He finds himself the ruler of these lands now.’

‘That is quite a promotion.’

‘Indeed. I’m sure he will tell you all about it during your audience.’

‘Where is my sword, the Dreadblade?’ Lann asked.

The man’s lip curled up in distaste at the mention of the weapon. He shook his head and tried the name out. ‘“Dreadblade”. Aye, that’s an apt name for the thing, all right. It was found in Queen Favner’s chambers, her blood still on its edge. My men will not touch it, and I don’t blame them. Those who approach it are filled with a terrible feeling of fear that is so great they are convinced majik is at work.’ The man eyed the boy warily. ‘The thing is cursed, isn’t it?’

Lann’s refusal to answer was met by a humourless snort.

‘I thought as much.’

‘A blade – even one of majik – is still only a tool,’ Fleya said. ‘It was the wielder of the weapon who is responsible for your kingdom’s loss. You would do well to remember that.’

‘Be that as it may, it is a malevolent thing that has no place inside these walls,’ the soldier replied, turning back to Lann. ‘King Rinkor, however, has said you may have it back. He was the only one with courage enough to handle it. He will return it to you during your audience with him.’

The news that he and the Dreadblade were to be reunited created a host of conflicting thoughts and emotions inside Lann. The separation had been genuinely painful – almost physically so – for him. And yet the sword’s motives in allowing itself to be taken could be seen as reprehensible. It had decided Favner and Glaeverssun should be punished for their crimes, and it had set about seeing that justice be done. It had killed them. It would have killed them if it thought Lann was willing to wield it in the act of doing so, but it knew he was not. Did that mean it didn’t really need him? Did what happened here mean it would leave him and plunge him back into the darkness?

As these last thoughts occurred to him, an all too familiar whisper filled his head.

Nir-akuu.

Monsters.

And then a new word that he also understood somehow.

Ishmet.

Together.

Pulling himself up to his full height Lann looked the man in the eye. ‘Take me to my sword,’ he said.