‘I would not joke over the life of my king. I will fight your mercenary.’ He glanced over at Oknhammer. ‘There could be no better way to prove to the people of this kingdom that Erik Rivengeld is innocent than for me, a mere boy, to defeat this mighty warrior. That could only be done if the gods will it.’

The jarl, stunned, was lost for words. Eventually he turned to Astrid. ‘Does Your Grace accept this … champion?’

‘Will nobody else step forward?’ Astrid looked around at the men in the crowd, all of whom found something of interest on the ground beneath their feet. Only the boy with the black scabbard hanging at his waist stood tall and stared back at her; and the witch, whose eyes begged Astrid not to utter her next words.

But she had no choice.

‘Then I accept him as my brother’s champion.’

19

‘What madness possessed you to offer yourself up to fight that monster?’

They were sitting in a room off the great hall waiting for the queen. Fleya was more furious than Lann had ever seen before. He stared stubbornly back at her.

‘Nobody else would.’

‘What kind of answer is that?’

‘We came here to Stromgard to speak with Erik. We can’t do that if he’s dead.’

‘And if you’re dead too? How does that help!?’

‘I don’t intend to die.’

‘You are not a fighter, Lann. That creature Oknhammer is a ruthless killer, a man who has lived his entire life with a sword in his hand.’

‘I have a sword too.’

‘But you have had no training. No combat experience. He will cut you down like a dog.’

‘The black blade won’t allow that to happen.’

Lann watched Fleya throw her hands up in despair at his response. He wondered if her anger and fear were a result of her not seeing this outcome to her plan, the Art, for once, letting her down in her moment of need. His own emotions were harder for him to identify. Gone was the dread he’d felt when he had first offered to take part in the trial. In its place was a modicum of … calm? Not confidence – he was in no way confident at having to face Frindr Oknhammer, but he was no longer terrified. He leaned forward to speak.

‘I never told you what happened on board the Ra’magulsha. You were gone, seeking out that thing from the depths. An arrow was fired at me by a pirate archer. It was a true shot. A deadly shot. But the arrow was not allowed to hurt me. I …’ He paused, and placed his hand on the dark scabbard at his side ‘The Dreadblade deflected it from its path. The blade is sworn to protect me, just as I am sworn to protect it.’

Fleya sat back, small lines creasing her forehead as she took this in.