‘Kulla ap Barin, Dath ben Mordwyr,’ she cried in a loud voice. ‘Your day is done. You have been bound, hand and heart, and lived the day as one. Now is your time of choosing. Will you bind yourselves forever, or shall the cord be cut?’

Dath and Kulla both grinned at one another, their joy infectious.

‘We will be bound, one to the other, and live this life as one,’ they said together.

Brina took their bound hands in hers.

‘Make your covenant,’ she said.

‘Kulla ap Barin,’ Dath began, ‘I vow to you the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my mead . . .’

It had been a ten-night since the battle, the first five days spent tending to the wounded and building cairns over the dead. As heart-breaking as that was, the numbers of the fallen had bordered upon the miraculous. One hundred and fifty-seven dead from amongst the various peoples that populated Corban’s warband and one thousand six hundred of Isiltir’s warband dead, another seven hundred warriors from Isiltir surrendering and joining the people of Drassil, as they were starting to think of themselves.

And we have learned from the survivors of Isiltir’s warband that two more warbands are building roads through Forn, trying to find us, as well as Nathair’s own force of Kadoshim. The odds seem overwhelming, and yet I don’t feel scared as I used to. I don’t have that feeling in the pit of my belly that something bad is just around the corner.

It had been seeing Corban slay the Kadoshim, then escape in such dramatic fashion from twenty shieldmen bearing down upon him, and then watching him lead a warband against an enemy that dramatically outnumbered them and win, with minimal losses.

It was inspiring, and Cywen knew she was not the only one who felt that way. Everybody did. There was an atmosphere at Drassil now of quiet confidence. That Elyon was perhaps guiding her brother after all.

We are going to win.

She smiled to herself and focused back on Brina and the happy couple.

‘Peace surround you both, and contentment latch your door,’ Brina sang the closing words of the benediction. Then she held up a wide cup for Dath and Kulla to grip with their bound hands. They drank together, then Brina cast the cup to the ground and stamped on it.

‘It is done,’ she cried, and the crowd erupted into cheering, Kulla grabbing Dath and kissing him fiercely.

‘Good, now let’s eat,’ Brina announced.

The great hall had been transformed, long rows of tables set with trenchers of steaming food, a score of spitted carcasses turning over fire-pits; barrels of mead found on the abandoned baggage wains of Jael’s warband stood in a long line.