He remembered Gar’s advice to him, so long ago, it seemed.

Anger is the enemy.

Abruptly Ildaer stopped retreating, blocked Gar’s next blow, sweeping his blade wide, and kicked Gar in the chest. Corban heard bones crack and Gar tumbled head over heels backwards. The giant strode after him.

Corban ran down the stairs, leaped and stood over Gar.

‘Where is your honour?’ Ildaer sneered. Blood sheeted the giant’s cheek, ran down one arm, slicking the spiralling tattoos, soaked the wool of his breeches.

‘Honour be damned, he is my friend,’ Corban snarled, ‘and you’ll have to kill me before you touch him again.’ He heard Storm growl behind him.

Ildaer looked at him, at his friends on the steps behind him. The giants and their bears stood like stone, tension thick as storm clouds.

A voice rang out from the left and Corban looked to see Balur standing with Meical at the far end of the courtyard, scores of the Benothi and Jehar at their back.

‘Ildaer, you whelp,’ Balur growled, raising his black axe.

‘Balur One-Eye – it cannot be,’ Corban heard Ildaer whisper, suddenly going as pale as alabaster.

Then Ildaer was turning and running to the closest bear-rider behind him, swinging up onto the bear’s back and fleeing through the gates. Balur charged after them, the Benothi following and screaming insults. Corban knelt beside Gar. He was conscious, breathing in short, controlled breaths.

‘Help me, to my father,’ he whispered.

Farrell was beside him and between them they carried Gar up the steps, past the two injured men that Tukul had been protecting – one alive but unconscious, one very obviously dead – and then they were beside Tukul, his body twisted where he’d fallen.

Tukul was still alive, his breaths coming in ragged wheezes.

Gar grimaced in pain, took his father’s hand.

Tukul opened his eyes, for a moment unfocused. Then he saw his son.

‘My Gar,’ Tukul wheezed. Blood speckled his lips.

‘Corban, where is Brina?’ Gar said, voice cracking. ‘Get Brina.’

‘Peace, Gar, it is . . . too late for that,’ Tukul said. He looked past Gar and saw Corban, other faces pressing in.

‘I told you . . . I would be here . . . first,’ he said to Corban.

‘Aye, you did,’ Corban said with a lump in his throat.

‘And we made a fair song of it, eh, Cora?’

‘We did,’ Coralen said, a tremor in her voice. ‘You did. You weren’t content with one bear. You had to kill two.’

A smile fluttered at the edges of Tukul’s mouth. ‘Remember what I said to you.’

She smiled softly at him.

Tukul coughed, went rigid with pain, blood dribbling down his chin.

‘My sword,’ he whispered, voice faint and thin.