It spasmed, a mountain of muscle and fur, blood gushing from its mouth as its head jerked, a convulsion that tore through its body, one last violent paroxysm and then it was collapsing, Tukul taking the weight of the beast’s head upon his shoulders. He stood there, chest heaving, covered in blood, then ripped his blade free and shrugged the head to the ground.

He pounded up the stairs. One look at Gramm and he knew the man was gone. His belly was one great wound, looking as if the flesh had been chewed, not cut. Tukul grimaced and looked away, saw Wulf, unconscious, pale from loss of blood, his chest rising and falling weakly.

Tukul grabbed the spear that pierced Wulf’s wrists, jerked it free and Wulf sank into his arms, eyes fluttering open.

‘My da . . .’ Wulf whispered.

A sound filled the courtyard, overwhelming the din of battle. A pounding roar. Tukul looked up to see bears with giants upon their backs come lumbering around the side of the feast-hall. Two, three, four of them. Upon the first bear sat a blond-haired giant, war-hammer in his fist dripping gore. He looked at the steps, saw the dead bear; his face twisted in rage.

Then he saw Tukul.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

CORBAN

Corban ran up a gentle slope, weaving amongst half-repaired boats suspended on timber scaffolding as he followed Meical deeper into a maze of grain barns and boatyards, tanners and smokehouses.

They had rowed through the night until Corban felt that his heart and lungs would burst. With the coming of day he’d heard the sounds of battle echo down from the hold upon its hill, seen the fires spreading. Meical had urged them on, until they had turned a bend in the river and seen a row of jetties and boathouses lining the bank. At a glance it was clear that the battle was not over, but also that it wasn’t going well for Gramm, great columns of black smoke punctuating the pale blue sky, figures fighting on the hold’s walls.

Corban had ordered all armed for war, he’d arrayed himself in his wolven pelt and claws, as had Farrell and Gar. The ship had barely scraped against the jetty before the boarding-plank was lowered and Meical was leaping to shore, Corban and the rest of them surging after him.

Briefly they paused on the riverbank, waiting for numbers to gather, and then they were off, Meical leading the way, Corban following close behind.