‘Besides, it’ll be highsun soon enough and you’ll be filling your belly before you know it.’

I’m not a bairn, thought Haelan. When I have my crown I’ll make you fetch me food all day long. He scowled at Tahir’s back as the warrior pulled himself into the saddle, the bay dancing a few steps.

‘Go on with you, then,’ Tahir said. ‘I’ll not be going far; just around the paddocks. If harm comes knocking I’ll be close enough to shut the door, as my old mam used to say.’

With a sigh he began walking across the paddock.

Gramm’s hold spread before him, a sturdy timber wall surrounding a collection of buildings scattered across a low hill, the main hall standing at the hill’s peak. People were busy, working on the various trades that kept the hold thriving – timber and horses being the main ones. Gramm had built this place with his own hands within sight of Forn Forest’s borders, raised his sons and daughters here, and now more than two hundred souls dwelt about the hill.

Over half a year Haelan and Tahir had been here. Gramm had taken them in, looked after them, protected them. At first Haelan had thought his mam would come for him soon. After a ten-night he’d asked Tahir what was taking her so long. The young warrior had just muttered about patience – one of his annoying sayings, of which there were many. After a moon had passed Haelan asked again. This time Tahir had not been able to meet his eyes. Soon after, Gramm had come to him and sat him down.

‘How old are you, lad?’ Gramm had asked him.

‘Ten summers; but I’ll be eleven on Midwinter’s Day,’ Haelan had replied.

‘Aye. Well, you’re still a bairn, but I’ll talk to you like a man, nonetheless. It’s the only way I know how, and it never did my boys much harm.’ He’d scratched his beard; a sadness in his eyes had stopped his words for a moment.

‘We’ve had word from the south, from Dun Kellen. About your mam.’

Haelan’s heart had beat faster.

‘She’s dead, lad. Or so my messenger tells me, and I’ve no reason to doubt him.’

‘Dead,’ Haelan had echoed, the word sinking in his chest like a heavy stone dropped into deep water.

‘Aye. Jael’s put her head on a spike. And he’s looking to do the same to you.’

The tears had come then, a seemingly endless flood.

‘Doubt that it helps much, but I share your grief. My eldest son died there. Orgull. He was a captain of the Gadrai, friend of Tahir. He held the door to the tunnel you escaped in.’