Beside him, he could sense his brother shifting, perhaps feeling guilt at the cowardly act he had committed. ‘I have no choice but to hand over the Ka Stone,’ Hui murmured.

When Qen didn’t answer, Hui flashed him a glance. A strange, unfocused look hovered in his brother’s eyes.

Suddenly, like the uncoiling of a vast serpent, Qen lunged. He grasped the Ka Stone and wrenched it from Hui’s grip. Hui thought his brother was going to offer the prize back to the Shrikes in return for their freedom. Instead Qen swung about, launching himself away from the camp.

‘Fools,’ Basti bellowed. ‘This is not a game.’

With a whisk of his hand, he raked the edge of his blade across Kyky’s throat. Blood gushed. Hui’s friend gurgled, his legs crumpled, and he fell back into the mass of raiders, sparing Hui the horror of seeing his final moment.

Hui felt a rush of despair that he thought might drive him mad. But Basti raised his hand and jerked it forward, and the Shrikes surged like a pack of dogs released by their master, snapping and yowling and filled with blood-lust.

Spinning on his heel, Hui hurled himself away. He could just make out the grey shape of Qen vanishing across the wasteland and he sprinted after him.

All that Hui could think in the whirlpool of his grief was that Kyky was the bravest of them all. And Hui in his cowardice had killed him.

But then the desperate urge to survive swept through him and he was running as fast as he could, his thoughts dashed away by the madness of his fear. The wild sounds of the hunting party thundered at his back, raiders who would never rest until he was dead.

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Wilbur Smith Readers’ Club