Figures stood highlighted beneath the next pool of torchlight, two men, swords at their hips, one with a spear. Corban had lost track of how long he had been walking, just knew that his anger had started to recede – not fade or disappear, but at least to stop bubbling and spluttering in his mind like a thousand angry hornets kicked from their nest. And his stomach was growling, telling him to find some food.

The figures loomed closer – two guards set on the first trapdoor into Forn. He recognized them as he drew closer, the two oarsmen Atilius and his son Pax. Corban waved them a greeting as he drew near, and they both looked pleased when he addressed them by name.

Both of them bore marks from the battle before Drassil’s walls: Pax had linen bandaged around his head and Atilius had a raw scar running down the length of his forearm, the stitch-holes still visible from where they had recently been cut and pulled.

They both were talkative, smiling and asking about Dath.

He was handbound yesterday! Was it only yesterday? A lot seemed to have happened since then. Corban found it hard talking to these two men. He’d grown accustomed to people wanting to talk to him and always tried to take a few moments to speak with anyone who wanted to, but that had been before.

Before I learned of the great lie. He felt ashamed before them, warriors who had risked their lives before Drassil’s walls, all in the name of a prophecy and a Bright Star. They looked at him, thinking he was something that he knew he wasn’t.

I need some air.

‘Would you open the gate for me?’ he said. ‘I could do with some sunshine upon my face.’

‘Aye, lord,’ Pax said, running up the slope that led to the hidden door.

Lord! Corban thought as he and Atilius followed more slowly.

‘Any news on the next warband?’ Atilius asked him. He was an old soldier, a warrior of Tenebral, and clearly used to war.

‘No,’ Corban said.

‘We’ll show them, if they ever reach here,’ Pax said as he threw the bolt, his da moving to help him lift the oak crossbar.

‘I don’t doubt it,’ Corban said as the door was pushed open and broken sunlight streamed in. ‘My thanks,’ he said as he stepped out into the fresh air, Storm loping off to sniff at a patch of dogwood.

‘My lord?’ Pax said nervously.

Not that again. ‘Aye,’ Corban sighed.

‘Where are your shieldmen?’ Pax looked about the forest. ‘Forn is not safe.’

‘They’re all sleeping off hangovers,’ Corban said with a wan smile. ‘But Storm is with me, and besides, I won’t go far,’ he said to the two men. ‘I’ll stamp on the door when I’m ready to come back down.’