The man’s eyes widened upon hearing this. ‘They … they wouldn’t permit me to speak to him. I begged them, but they refused me an audience. I needed to tell him—’

‘That is why we have come,’ the girl said, interrupting him. ‘To find the creature responsible for those terrible things. And to try and rescue your daughter.’

‘I … I fear she is already dead,’ the man said, tears filling his eyes. ‘Whatever killed the calf has her now and—’

‘Do not give up hope,’ said the boy gently. ‘Please. May we come in?’

The farmer drew the door wider. ‘I am afraid it is a humble home. We are only simple farmers—’

‘My family are … were cattle farmers,’ the boy said. The man stared from him to the girl, taking in the quality of their clothes.

‘You’re farmers?’

‘Not her,’ the boy said, gesturing in the girl’s direction. ‘She’s a princess.’

The look the girl gave the boy made the farmer glad that he wasn’t on the receiving end of it. ‘And he,’ she said, flashing the boy a fierce smile, ‘is an idiot.’ Giving the farmer a nod, Astrid stepped into the farmhouse.

They sat before the fire, warming the cold that had set into their bones during the journey and sipping warm mead from cups that the farmer’s wife had brought them. The man’s name was Bortib, and both he and his wife seemed stunned into silence at hearing the circumstances of Queen Favner’s death.

‘The new king sent you?’ Bortib asked eventually. ‘Just the two of you? No soldiers?’

Lann shook his head. ‘We are here with the king’s blessing – but we were sent here by a god.’

‘A god? What is this? Who are you?’

‘The thing that killed your animals is not of this world,’ Lann said. ‘It has come from another place, a place where it and others like it have waited patiently for their chance to cross over.’

The sound of a baby waking up somewhere else in the house caused the farmer’s wife to hurry out of the room.

‘These creatures do not fear man,’ continued Lann. ‘But they fear this.’ He patted the black scabbard hanging at his side. The others couldn’t know it, but the action caused the sword to renew its strange lament inside his head. Ignoring the voice, he carried on. ‘Astrid and I are only two, but the asghoul that has your daughter would rather face a hundred mounted soldiers than this blade.’ He hadn’t realised he’d got to his feet, and was completely taken aback when Farmer Bortib dropped to his knees before him, grasping at the hem of his cloak and thanking him. Embarrassed, Lann helped the man to his feet and fixed him with a kind smile.