The god raised a hand to halt the youth. ‘There is no going back once you choose to do so, Lannigon. The sword and owner become one, feeding and aiding each other until the bond is severed by death or destruction. The blade is well named and not just for the fear it strikes in its enemies.’

Lann noticed how the deity kept his own hands well clear of the weapon, and it occurred to him that it must be a powerful thing indeed to instil fear in a being as powerful as Rakur.

‘Before I make my choice, I have a question for you.’

The deity raised an eyebrow. ‘Ask it.’

‘Are you … my father?’

The god seemed genuinely surprised at being asked such a thing. The laugh that escaped him had a harsh quality to it. ‘A strange notion, young one. If I were your father, what would that make you? A demigod?’ The deity shook his head, but the look on his face was impossible to read. ‘Such a thing would have no place in this or any other world. A halfling of that kind would be abhorrent not only to the gods, but to mankind.’

‘You have not answered my question.’

‘Mother, father, brother – I could be one or all of those things to you. These terms mean nothing to the gods. We are. You are. That is all there is. That is all there has ever been.’

‘You talk in riddles, god.’

‘I do. It is my way. But riddles are there to be solved, are they not? And the riddler is there to pose the question, not provide the answer.’

‘And will the sword help me to solve the puzzle of who I am?’

‘It may help you to discover such a thing, if that is what you truly want. But mark my words, Lannigon Fetlanger, the answers to some questions are best left undiscovered.’

There was a moment of silence between them, then Lann leaned forward and took the Dreadblade from the god’s lap.

As his fingers curled around the grip of the sword, a wave of energy rushed through Lann’s body, making him cry out in a mixture of joy and pain. In the same instant, the god Rakur disappeared.