Storm raised her head to look at Meical, her top lip curling back in a silent growl.

‘Asroth hates Elyon, with a passion few could even imagine. But he also loves him, in a deep, hidden place. Despite everything, Elyon is still Asroth’s Maker. We must never forget that. And Asroth trusts Elyon. Believes him. We knew that once he saw the prophecy, if he believed it was of Elyon’s making, he would never doubt it. And he has not. He has followed it like a rule book – chosen his champion, sought out the Treasures. And now he will come here.’

Corban staggered, reached out to grip something, anything. He put his hand upon the shaft of Skald’s spear and retched, bile splashing onto the stone floor.

‘Truth and courage,’ he whispered bitterly as he cuffed bile from his chin. He stood straighter, glared at Meical. ‘What of that? How could you do this to us? Lie to us like this?’

‘You have to understand, this was a strategic decision. We are unused to emotion. Remember, we are duty, we are honour. We viewed you as a race, a collective, not as individuals. As the stakes of an age-old conflict. What matter if a few of you were sacrificed along the way, as long as the majority were saved? It seemed logical, the obvious choice. For the greater good.’

‘The greater good,’ Corban whispered. ‘My mam, da, Tukul – all died believing they were fighting for something more than this . . .’

Meical held up a hand. ‘I do not say that I condone this now. I don’t. I regret much.’ He shook his head. ‘I have never felt shame before, regret, but I do now. I have come to respect you, Corban, to feel genuine kinship for you, and your companions. Love, you would call it. That is why I am telling you now. I . . .’ He paused, mouth twisting. ‘I care for you, for your companions, feel something of Elyon’s great love for you. I cannot bear to deceive you any longer. But the path is set, too late to change it now. We must see it through.’

‘What path? There is yet more to this?’

Meical nodded, avoiding Corban’s gaze.

‘You just said you would deceive me no longer,’ Corban snapped, ‘or was that another lie?’

Meical flinched as if from a blow. ‘You remember Coralen’s straw men in Narvon? The distraction that allowed us to sink the fleet and steal the ships?’

‘Aye.’

‘This is the same.’

‘How so? In what way? You are still speaking in riddles.’

‘I cannot tell you any more. I have sworn to my kin.’

Corban turned away, took a dozen paces, wanting nothing more than to get away, to find somewhere alone where he could curl up and hold his head and wish it all away. He stopped, spun on his heel and strode to Meical.

‘I am not the Bright Star?’