‘I was not clothed in flesh to destroy Meical’s Bright Star,’ Calidus snarled at him. ‘My task is to make Asroth flesh. To bring him across the divide, from the Otherworld to this world of flesh.’ He shrugged. ‘Once that is accomplished, Meical and his Bright Star will die. It will be inevitable. Though this was still an opportunity missed, and causes me to doubt those I have raised about me.’

Uthas reached inside his cloak and drew out a leather flask. He pulled out the stopper, the oaky scent of usque drifting out, and offered it to Calidus.

‘A good idea,’ Calidus muttered, taking a long drink from the flask.

A glow in the east heralded the coming of dawn.

‘Make ready,’ Calidus called. ‘I will see Uthandun today.’

Figures melted back into the darkness, Kadoshim seeing to their packs, going about the tasks of breaking camp.

Uthas looked at the humped shadow of the butchered horse.

The cauldron’s wain will move slower, not faster, with one less horse pulling.

Calidus followed Uthas’ gaze over his shoulder to the dead animal.

‘Tell Nathair he can give that to his draig.’

Uthandun appeared as they crested a hill, the Darkwood a solid wall behind it, between fortress and trees a river glittering in the sunlight. Even from this distance Uthas could see the blackened hulls of ships half-submerged in its waters. Beside him Calidus hissed an expelled breath, the extent of his rage now. A vent to the deep ocean of fury that no doubt still surged within him.

He must have been angry indeed. I have never known Calidus to be anything but calculated control.

They rode down the slope, Calidus looking either side at the remains of fires, here and there were branches tied in the loose shapes of men, wrapped in cloaks. His mouth twisted in disgust. Behind them the wain carrying the cauldron rumbled over the crest of the hill, pulled by seven horses and a dozen giants. Uthas had ordered Benothi strength to replace the dead horse and ensure that they reached Uthandun before nightfall. Surrounding the great wain were the Kadoshim. They had changed over the course of their journey from Murias. Calidus had taught them a measure of self-control – they still had a taste for flesh, but Calidus had instructed them how to cook and eat like normal men, and also how to use and care for their host bodies of flesh and blood, like a treasured weapon. Now they looked comfortable in their skins, no ungainly jerks or spasms, and they had learned to use their hosts’ voices, as well as harness their skills. They had learned discipline.

A fearsome combination – the skill of the Jehar and the strength of the Kadoshim. They exuded power, almost a physical thing, like waves of heat rippling about them on a hot summer’s day.