Camlin checked over his kit methodically. He’d put a fresh coat of wax on his long bow of yew and had three hemp strings rolled in wax in a leather pouch. A quiver of thirty arrows stood wrapped in oiled doeskin – the ship they were sailing upon was a trader and had a good selection of furs and tanned skins. He emptied his bag, checked over its contents again. A copper box packed with dry tinder and kindling. A flint and iron. Fish-hooks and animal gut for the stitching of wounds. Various medicinal herbs – honey, sorrel leaves, yarrow and seed of the poppy. A roll of linen bandages. An arterial strap. An iron to heat for the cauterization of wounds. A needle and hemp thread. And a pot.

I’m looking at the difference between life and death.

Most of it he’d traded or won at dice during the journey from Domhain. Some of it he’d bought. He knew it would be needed, and they would reach their destination soon: Ardan, ruled by the enemy, where they would be hunted.

A horn rang out above him, muted by timber, and shouts followed.

Land.

Camlin climbed above-decks and rolled his shoulder and lifted his arm, more out of habit than need. It had healed well. Over a ten-night had passed since Baird had pulled the shaft through his shoulder. Three days ago he’d strung and nocked his bow, tested to see if he could draw it. His muscles had protested and he’d not pushed them. He’d done the same each day, and earlier today he’d managed a full draw, a bit shaky, but nothing had snapped, so that was good enough for him.

The first person on the deck he saw was Vonn, leaning at a rail, staring at a dark line on the horizon. A coastline rose up from the horizon, dark cliffs and tangled coves. Land. Camlin grinned at the sight of it.

Ardan.

Around him the ship’s crew were busy, climbing in rigging, securing ropes. Doing what sailors do. There was a tension in the air now, an excitement. The end of their time at sea had arrived, and they were about to begin something new. Something more dangerous, most likely, but I don’t care. Another night on this damn tub and I’ll go mad.

Others were gathering on the deck now, warriors preparing to disembark. Camlin joined Vonn. ‘Home,’ Vonn told him.

Vonn’s face was a mixture of emotion – longing, fear. It’ll be hard for him. His da rules there now.

‘You ready for this?’ Camlin asked him.

Vonn looked at him for a few long moments. ‘I’m ready. I’ve always been ready. The night Dun Carreg fell I was ready. If my oath to Edana had not kept me with her, I’d have put a sword through my da’s traitorous heart.’