A hundred heartbeats went by; eventually Alben turned back to them.

‘There were footsteps on the stairwell, but they have not come this way.’

‘How did they scale your walls?’ Fidele asked.

Alben shrugged. ‘It has never been done before. We are a long way up from the bay.’

‘And what now?’ Fidele asked.

‘We wait,’ Ektor said.

‘For what, the Vin Thalun to overwhelm the tower?’ Fidele said.

‘What would you suggest we do?’ Ektor snapped. ‘You, no offence intended, are not exactly warrior-born. Your friend, on the other hand, looks as if he could carve his way to the Otherworld if he had a mind to.’ It did not sound like a compliment the way Ektor sneered as he said it. ‘But he is clearly injured and unable to stand unaided, let alone fight. And the oldest swordsmaster in the Banished Lands.’ Alben scowled at that. ‘And me.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Not the greatest band of heroes ever mustered.’

‘He’s got a point,’ Maquin grunted.

Fidele thought about it. To go charging into the unknown would be foolish. The thought of Vin Thalun out there, though, possibly taking the tower, opening its gates to Lykos. It was terrifying, all the more so for the not knowing.

I will cut my own throat before I let him touch me again. She found herself pacing about the chamber, searching for a distraction. Ektor was tidying his table, a worried frown on his face. He seems more worried about his maps than the fact we’re possibly being overrun by invaders.

I remember studying them with Ektor – how long ago was that? A year? Two?

She had spent a long day in this chamber with Ektor, listening to his wealth of knowledge on the history of the Banished Lands, trying to unravel clues in the ancient writings of the giants. She had been unsettled by what they had discovered, rumours about the Ben-Elim and Kadoshim walking the earth clothed in bodies of flesh and blood. There was reference to the high king’s counsellor being Kadoshim, a servant of Asroth. The question had been which high king? Aquilus or Nathair? Meical or Calidus? I think I know now, if Lykos’ association with Calidus is anything to go by.

‘Did you ever find the answer?’ Fidele asked Ektor.

‘Not exactly,’ he said quietly, as if guarding some great secret. ‘But I narrowed it down to two conclusions.’

‘So did I,’ Fidele whispered.

Ektor nodded at her, smiling. ‘You really show a great deal of potential, you know.’

‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

‘Footsteps,’ Alben hissed, drawing his sword. Fidele pulled her knife from its sheath. The latch lifted, rattled as someone tried to open the door. A fist pounded on the thick oak, dust puffing from the hinges. Fidele felt a knot of fear squirm inside her. She gripped her knife tightly.

‘Ektor,’ a voice shouted, ‘are you in there, you pasty-faced bookworm?’