‘That river,’ Corban said. ‘How far east does it go?’

‘To the marshes that border Narvon and Isiltir. From there we could follow it to the northern sea,’ Meical answered. ‘If we had ships we could sail all the way to Gramm’s hold.’

‘Who is Gramm?’ Corban asked.

‘A friend,’ Tukul said.

‘An ally that dwells on the fringes of Forn Forest,’ Meical said. ‘He has helped us before, and will join us, now that the God-War has begun in earnest.’

Corban had nodded, eyes fixed on the black sails dotting the river Afren. ‘Looks like we need some ships then.’

Tukul looked up at Dath, who stood on the raised cabin deck at the rear of the ship.

‘We must leave now,’ Dath yelled, and Tukul echoed the cry, standing atop the boarding-plank, beckoning to Balur and those still gathered upon the riverbank. All was chaos, ships burning, waves of heat and smoke billowing across the river. Many of the sailors who had fled from the flaming ships were trying to put the fires out, but more than half of the enemy galleys were blazing hotter than a forge. Tukul suspected there had been some Elemental assistance to the fire. As more of the sailors gathered upon the bank they launched a fierce counterattack on the ships that were being stolen. Horn blasts rang out from Uthandun, the sound of hooves and battle-cries drifting down from the fortress.

Balur was pushing warriors onto the boarding-plank, giants and Jehar both, sending them stumbling up the ramp and onto the ship’s deck, then he turned, swung his black axe about his head and launched himself into a knot of enemy warriors surging towards him.

Tukul saw the first warrior chopped in half, legs and torso flying in different directions, the second taking the iron-spiked butt of Balur’s axe in the face, a third losing his head, then smoke billowed about them, obscuring them from Tukul’s sight.

All else had boarded now, Dath yelling for the ramp to be pulled in and the mooring rope cut, but still Tukul hesitated. He took a few steps down the ramp, yelled out to Balur, glanced back onto the boat, the faces staring at him.

I’ll not leave the living behind.

He drew his sword from his back, began to stride purposefully down the ramp, ignoring the voices behind that called his name, then Balur burst from the roiling smoke, blood-spattered, a limp figure slung over one shoulder. He hurtled towards the ramp, other forms appearing behind him, chasing him. Giant boots thudded onto the ramp, wood creaking, and Tukul saw Balur carried a giantling across his shoulder, blood flowing from a gash across its scalp.