Corban blinked as the trapdoor opened above him. Enkara went first, holding her hands up high, and iron glittered in the torchlight above her. He rode Shield up the slope, Storm loping beside him, and squinted as he entered a room that felt as bright as the sun after spending a ten-night in that huge, endless tunnel.

Blurred figures were standing in a semi-circle before him and he reined in. As his vision started to clear he saw they were Jehar. They drew their swords, dropped to one knee before him, bowing their heads and crying out, ‘The Seren Disglair.’

‘Please, rise,’ Corban said as he slid from Shield’s back.

There were ten of them, all older, between forty and fifty summers like Enkara.

I thought this kind of behaviour was all over. I’ve accepted who I am, but Seren Disglair or Bright Star or whatever they call me, it doesn’t mean people need to get down on their knees in front of me.

‘On your feet,’ Corban said, more firmly, walking to the closest one and gently lifting him. They stood and sheathed their swords, looking at him with awe-struck eyes.

‘Well met; I am honoured to meet you,’ Corban said. ‘I have been told much about you, and value your faithfulness in guarding Drassil for this day.’ He had spoken a long time to Enkara about this, quizzing her during their journey through the tunnel of what to expect upon his arrival.

He greeted them all by name, again learned from Enkara; he thought it the least he could do, not able to imagine the dedication it had taken to spend sixteen years preparing Drassil for these times, then watch most of their comrades leave, knowing that they had to stay and guard an empty fortress.

‘And you must be Hamil,’ he said to the last one, a serious-looking man with iron grey at his temples and a hooked nose. The man dipped his head.

‘Hamil, we have ridden far and there are many of us. Would you and your kin please help get them settled?’

‘Of course, Bright Star,’ Hamil said.

‘Corban – please, my name is Corban.’

‘Of course. One question.’

‘Aye.’

‘Where is Tukul?’

For a moment Corban did not know what to say. He missed Tukul, every day. For a man whom he had not known all that long, Tukul had had an immense impact upon him.

Then Hamil looked over Corban’s shoulder and saw Gar. He stared a moment, then smiled, the expression transforming his face.

‘Gar, is that you?’ Hamil said.

Gar looked at him, blankly at first, then he smiled in return, though to Corban it looked wan. Nevertheless he slipped from his horse and embraced Hamil, who hugged him tightly and patted his back.

‘Oh, how you have grown,’ Hamil exclaimed.

‘Aye. Seventeen years,’ Gar shrugged.

‘Where is your father?’ Hamil asked him.

Gar’s smile vanished, that stricken, hollow look returning to his eyes.