‘When we are inside and the door is closed above us, the glamour will cover them again. No newcomer will see them, will notice anything other than the forest floor.’

‘So how did Enkara see it?’ Corban asked.

‘Because she’s seen it before. And now that you have, the glamour will no longer work upon you. You will be able to see all six of them, now.’

Corban thought about that for a moment, then looked up and smiled.

‘Excellent,’ he said.

The doors closed with a bang and darkness settled about them, broken by countless torches that burned a dotted line down the endless tunnel.

Ethlinn had remained behind with Enkara and Coralen, the rest of the warband marching on. Ethlinn lifted a huge wooden beam and slipped it through iron bars fixed to the enormous trapdoor.

‘A precaution,’ she said, ‘though doubtless unnecessary.’ She murmured a few words in giantish, Coralen feeling her skin prickle as it had earlier, when she’d stood upon the door and not seen it.

‘There,’ Ethlinn said, turning away.

‘So Drassil is down there?’ Coralen said.

‘Aye,’ said Enkara. ‘It would take three or four moons of hard walking through Forn to reach Drassil from this point, and that is without the glamours and traps that surround the fortress. In this tunnel, mounted, we’ll be there in a ten-night.’

‘Onwards then,’ Coralen said.

‘Home,’ whispered Ethlinn.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

ULFILAS

Ulfilas stood with his back to the great doors of the feast-hall, checking all entrances and exits, making sure they were guarded by trusted men. Even though they were in the heart of Isiltir, in the fortress that had once been Romar’s seat of power, Ulfilas had reached a point of permanent mistrust.

Perhaps Jael’s paranoia is rubbing off on me.

He flexed his fingers and clenched a fist, felt muscle and tendon ripple and contract along his arm, the stitches in his bicep pulling. A ten-night had passed since he’d arrived in Mikil and met with Jael. His arm was out of its sling now, feeling weak, and aching as he’d never imagined, but slowly, oh so slowly, he was starting to feel a trickle of strength flow back into it.

The room had been converted into a council chamber, the firepit covered over with boards and a thick-legged carven table placed across it.

The fire-pit should be lit, if even just to lend some heat to this room. Summer had slipped into autumn and the winds blew cold across the rolling plains of Isiltir.