‘His jaw is broken,’ Maquin said. ‘Don’t expect too much conversation from him today.’

Senios led them on into the forest, Maquin a pace behind him. Sunlight slanted through the trees; birdsong drifted down from above.

Time passed, the sun sliding across the canopy above. Fidele heard the sound of running water, faint at first. Soon they reached the banks of a river, its waters dark, wide and sluggish. Alder and willow lined the bank, willow branches draped across their path, dangling into the river. The sun was straight above when Senios stopped.

‘Bend,’ he said, pointing ahead.

‘What are we going to see?’ Maquin growled.

‘A ship. Vin Thalun. The giants.’ His words were slurred.

‘How many Vin Thalun?’

Senios held both hands up.

‘Ten?’ Maquin asked. Senios shrugged.

‘We’ll go together. Any noise, any movement that I don’t tell you to do, you’ll feel my blade.’ He drew his knife, emphasizing his point.

Slowly they crept forwards. They turned the bend; reeds grew thick and tall along the bank, then Fidele heard voices.

Maquin crouched low, dragging Senios down with him, and motioned for Fidele to do the same. They moved into the bank of reeds, inched their way closer to the river’s edge. Sweat stung Fidele’s eyes. With every movement the reeds rustled and she expected warning cries to ring out. She could see the river through gaps in the reeds, saw the outline of a long and sleek ship resembling a Vin Thalun war-galley, only smaller. It had no mast, but a row of oars raised out of the water – ten, she counted. So that’s twenty oars – twenty men, double what Senios told us. And there could be more. At the rear of the ship was a large cabin. Figures moved on the deck, others were on the far bank, where a wide fire-pit had been dug. Near them, a great moss-covered stone slab rose from the ground. Lines dissected it, too straight to be natural. Giant runes? Something about it was strange, unnatural. An iron ring dangled from it.

Her attention was drawn back to the ship as the cabin door creaked open and a warrior emerged. He was holding a chain, which he tugged. A female giant walked out onto the deck, tall and muscular, an iron collar about her throat. Another giant followed behind her, bound to a connecting chain at the waist. This one was male, shorter and slighter, with wisps of a scraggly moustache. A giant bairn. I did not even know that such a thing existed.

More Vin Thalun warriors followed behind, spears levelled at their prisoners. The giants were led from the galley onto the far bank; the chain linking them was attached to the iron ring in the great stone. One of the Vin Thalun prodded the small male with a spear, making him twist away with a pitiful whine. The female snarled, stepped in front of the smaller one and lunged as the Vin Thalun laughed and jabbed at her with their spears. They soon grew bored of their baiting and left the two giants. The giantess cupped the young male’s face in her hands, the two exchanging a look both bleak and tender. Fidele felt the breath catch in her chest – something about the gesture was shockingly moving. Fidele remembered doing the same to Nathair as Aquilus was laid in his cairn, remembered the grief they’d shared in a look, intimate and unique only to them at the loss of Aquilus, husband, father.