How did he do that?

‘Bigger they are, harder they fall,’ Javed muttered.

Everything froze for a moment, Coralen dimly aware that all on the ship’s deck were staring at them. Something warred across Javed’s face, emotions fighting for supremacy. His jaw spasmed, like a spark setting something in motion, followed by a contraction in the striated muscles of his shoulder, a drawing back of his wrist, and then Coralen was lunging forwards. She kicked out, caught Javed’s wrist as the knife began its descent, sending it spinning out of his hand. With a snarl Javed was turning, launching himself at her. A dozen blows flew between them, some blocked, some landing, then they were crushed together, spinning, still punching. Coralen’s back slammed into the wall of the cabin.

Blood dripped from Javed’s nose.

They froze, staring at each other, both breathing heavily.

Then another sound filtered through the fog of Coralen’s focus.

Growling. Deep, vibrating through the timber deck into Coralen’s boots.

‘You should let her go and step away,’ a voice said, cold, angry but controlled.

Javed stared a moment longer at Coralen, his face twisted with anger – no, something deeper than that, a berserk, consuming fury. Then, slowly, muscles shifted, loosened. He blinked, let go of her, stepped away.

Corban stood behind them, a look on his face that was a far cry from his usual amicable smile.

‘I’ll not see a hand raised against my friends, or tolerate them being hurt,’ he said to Javed. ‘So do we have a problem here?’ Corban did not move, had no weapon in his hands, but Javed took a step away from him. Storm’s growl shifted, became deeper somehow. Saliva dripped from her bared fangs.

‘I – I am . . . sorry,’ Javed said. And actually looked as if he was. He wiped a hand across his face, then turned and staggered away.

As the sun sank into the west it bathed the flat land of glistening marsh spread before them in its orange glow, myriad waterways and stagnant pools glistening like liquid amber. Behind them the bastion of the Darkwood stood stark and silhouetted, fading into the distance, and along with it the realm of Narvon.

Ahead is Isiltir, and beyond it Forn Forest and Drassil. Coralen stood with Farrell by the gap in the rail where the boarding ramp would be lowered, waiting for Dath to yell his orders. He was on the riverbank, telling Laith where to secure a mooring rope. Her lip throbbed, a reminder of her earlier encounter. The fight sat heavy in her mind, the look in Javed’s eyes as he fought her. It had been as if he’d become another person. We all do that when we fight for real, to some degree. But still, what she had seen in his eyes . . .