What have I done? Fear and doubt gnawed at him. He cursed the events that had led to this. Cursed Fech, the damn bird that had warned Nemain of his betrayal. He put a hand to his face, felt the claw marks that Fech’s talons had raked into his forehead and cheeks.

Things could have been different if I’d had time to reason with Nemain . . . He gritted his teeth. No. It is done, no going back. I must salvage from this what I can, protect and rebuild my clan. I am King of the Benothi now.

Voices drew his attention and he looked up to see Nathair’s adviser, Calidus, emerge from a hall, the giant Alcyon looming behind him. After the battle they had set a makeshift camp in the chamber of the cauldron, deep in the belly of the mountain, but Uthas could not stand it in there; the stench of so many dead wyrms was making him retch. Besides, it was foolish to leave the great gates unguarded, the only entrance and exit to the fortress of Murias. Their enemies had seemingly fled, but who knew what they were capable of? Meical and his followers had already stormed their way into Murias once and shattered the ceremony, preventing many of the Kadoshim from passing through the cauldron into the world of flesh.

Calidus saw him and strode over.

‘How many of the Benothi live?’ Calidus asked. A cut across his forehead was scabbing, the skin puckering as he spoke. After the battle he had appeared weary to Uthas, face drawn, his silver hair dull. For the first time he had looked frail, like an old man. Now that was gone. He stood straight, his body alive with new energy, his yellow eyes appearing feral, radiating power.

‘Forty-five, fifty maybe of those who stood with me. Others still live who fought against us, or at least, their bodies have not been found. Balur is one of them.’

‘Balur has the starstone axe. He took it from Alcyon.’ Calidus flickered a withering stare at the giant beside him who stood with head downcast, his face stained with a purple bruise. Uthas noticed Alcyon had a war-hammer slung across his back, replacing the black axe that had been there. Taken from a fallen Benothi, no doubt. That stirred anger in his belly and he scowled at Alcyon, a member of a rival giant clan, the Kurgan.

No, he told himself, if my dream is to become reality I cannot think like that. We were one clan once, before the Sundering. It can be so again. Looking at Alcyon, though, he realized just how deep the old grudges ran.

‘You have something to say?’ Alcyon growled at him, standing straighter, returning his dark look.

Control your temper, build bridges, he told himself.

‘I see you carry a Benothi weapon. There is much honour in that.’

‘Honour, in the Benothi?’ Alcyon sniffed.

‘Aye,’ Uthas growled, anger rising. ‘As there is in all of the clans. Even the Kurgan.’