‘See that it’s done,’ he said. ‘And quickly. We need to move out before the Kadoshim decide to join us.’

Tukul organized the task, asking Balur and a few giantlings to do the deed.

Involve each group in this warband – the Benothi, my Jehar, and those who joined us in Murias. We need to become one.

Balur chuckled as the first man fainted at the sight of a giant raising his war-hammer, but he only brought the butt-end down on the unconscious warrior’s hand. Bones smashed.

It was over quickly enough, most of the prisoners knowing that it could have been their heads lying on the grass.

Soon the warband was ready to ride.

Corban was already mounted, eager to leave. A string of horses was roped to take with them, spoils of the battle, and that was after the rescued villagers had each been given a mount. The spare horses were loaded with more spoils from the battlefield – cloaks, boots, leather jerkins, a few good coats of mail, bundles of spears, swords and knives as well as barrels of salted meats and mead.

It won’t last long, but it’ll make a welcome break from brot.

The auroch that had been yoked to the supply wains were cut loose and set free on the open moors.

Corban spoke again to the handful of villagers who had joined them, gave them a choice of staying with the warband or riding out on their own. They discussed it briefly and then Teca, their chosen speaker, told him that they would stay with the warband.

And with that Corban called out and they set out, moving down the old giants’ road in a wide column, Coralen and her chosen scouts riding ahead.

Our first real battle with the Bright Star leading us. He has done well.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CAMLIN

Camlin woke with a stiff neck. They’d slept in their boats, tied in amongst a thick bank of reeds. A gentle current had tugged Camlin’s boat out into the marsh stream, where dawn’s rays painted the world in a golden sheen. Meg was sitting by his feet, staring at him. She offered him a piece of . . . something – bread, maybe? He looked closer, saw it had a spongy texture, like a mushroom. He shook his head.

The others were still asleep, Edana and Baird at the far end of their flat-bottomed boat, Brogan propped in the middle, his snoring rocking the boat, sending waves lapping. Amongst the reeds he could make out the tips of boats. Eight in total, and beyond them the shadowy figures of those on the last shift of night’s watch. He spied Vonn’s straw-coloured hair leaning against a willow.