Gar held his arm out.

A moment’s hesitation and then Akar took it. A roar of approval rose up from about the ring, even the giants bellowing their approval, Corban’s voice lost in the din of it. Then Akar dropped to one knee before Gar and kissed his hand. Other Jehar dropped to the ground, Gar looking about at them with a slightly embarrassed expression upon his face.

Now he knows how I feel.

Hamil stood and strode to Gar, gripped Gar’s wrist and raised his arm in the air.

‘Garisan ben Tukul,’ Hamil cried in a great voice, ‘Lord of the Jehar.’

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

MAQUIN

Maquin swayed in his saddle, holding onto his mount with his knees as his hands were bound behind his back. Twenty paces to his right the dark waters of a wide river flowed, and to the north he glimpsed snow-capped peaks, a wind swirling down from them that set the long grass whispering and brought with it the faint chill of ice. He shivered. He was riding as part of a great column, close to six thousand warriors before and behind him, the combined warbands of Veradis’ eagle-guard and Lykos’ Vin Thalun. An honour guard of Ripa surrounded Krelis, Ektor, Fidele, Peritus and Alben. Ahead of him Maquin caught a glimpse of the two giants – prisoners again, like him – their long strides keeping pace with the mounted eagleguard watching them.

More than a moon had passed since that day in the field beyond Ripa’s walls, when the world had been turned on its end. Two warbands massed against Lykos, outnumbering him two to one – killing the Vin Thalun lord had felt inevitable.

And then Veradis had arrived.

As they’d stood in the rowan-meet, listened to Veradis’ proposals on behalf of Nathair, any hopes he’d had of Lykos finding justice had been burned away. And then the final straw. After all that Lykos had done to Fidele, to see him in her presence, taunting her . . .

I thought my self-control was total. It seems that I was wrong.

Hooves sounded behind him and Lykos came into view on his left side. Maquin stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him.

‘And how are you today?’ Lykos said.

He kept his lips shut tight.

‘Managing to sit straight?’

Maquin’s back and ribs were bruised purple. Each breath brought with it an ebb and flow of pain.

One cracked rib, at least.

And when he had emptied his bladder that morning there had been streaks of blood in his urine. He gritted his teeth, buried the pain. He would not give Lykos the satisfaction of knowing how bad it was.

I’ve endured worse before, and I will no doubt endure worse if Lykos has anything to do with it.