‘Watch the cubs,’ he blurted to Swain and Sif, ‘and don’t let Pots follow me.’ And he was running down the wall’s stairwell, leaping steps two at a time.

In the courtyard before the main gates he climbed into the saddle of a fully tacked horse. It was a little big for him, the stirrups too long, but it was the most suitable of what was left and he was a good rider, had been sat in a saddle as far back as he could remember. Without any more thought he clicked his tongue and rode out through the gates.

It was a different world down here, the battle from above seeming to have something serene about it, playing out like the swirls of sea and sand as the tide comes in. Down here it was loud, filled with the screams of the dying and the yelling of the living, and it stank, of blood and metal and excrement. Everywhere was chaos. He scanned the field for Corban, could see men of Isiltir fleeing, giants striding amongst them wielding their axes and hammers, then he caught a flash of bone-white fur and headed for it.

Before he’d covered a hundred paces he heard running to one side, felt a flash of fear. I am part of the reason Jael came here, led a warband of thousands through Forn Forest with the goal of seeing me dead.

‘What are you doing down here, laddie?’ a voice called out, and relief swept him.

Tahir.

Relief at both Tahir being alive and the fact that it was not a warrior coming to separate his head from his shoulders.

‘I’ve an idea,’ Haelan said, ‘and I need to find Corban.’

Tahir looked at him, was clearly wrestling with the idea of marching him straight back to the safety of Drassil.

‘All right then. Shift along then, and I’ll climb up there with you.’

They found Corban drinking from a water skin, drenched in blood, his hair plastered to his head. A handful of people were gathered around him, Gar and Meical, Coralen and Farrell and Laith, as well as Balur One-Eye and Ethlinn. And of course Storm.

The battle had moved away from them, or rather the chasing of the broken and fleeing warband, only here and there the sound of iron marking real combat, a few knots of men fighting rearguard actions and retreating in a more orderly fashion.

‘Little one’s got something to say to you,’ Tahir said as they rode up.

Haelan looked at the fierce bloodstained faces around him and quailed a little. He swallowed his fears, knowing what needed to be said.

‘These are my people,’ Haelan told them. ‘Jael is fled, I think, or maybe dead. I saw him from the battlements, over there.’ He pointed south to the trees. ‘The rest of them, they might stop if I ask them, if they are offered mercy.’

‘Mercy?’ growled Farrell.