‘Not yet,’ said Edda. He pointed a gnarled finger at a group of manticore shapewalkers who were standing apart from the rest of the forces. ‘We had a team ready to do just that should the battle fail. But now we won’t need to.’

‘And how will you get to Bitterblight?’ Lug asked. ‘There’s seven million seepers in the way!’

‘We will distract them if we can,’ said Edda. ‘And try to clear a path. The shadow tree is growing inside the crater of that volcano. A squad of brave warriors will be needed to take Nammu’s heart there.’

‘If you please, Uncle,’ said Elowen, tapping her fingertips together as she did when excited. ‘I think that Liska should be the one to do it. This was all her idea after all.’

Liska’s mouth hung open, as did her mother’s. ‘Me?’ she finally managed to say. ‘Kill Bitterblight? But . . .’ She was about to say, ‘I’m only a child’, then remembered that it was the exact saying of her mother’s that used to infuriate her so. Instead, she bit her lip.

‘I can carry her,’ said Embla. ‘At least until she is safe to fly.’

‘And I will go too,’ said Elowen. ‘My magic has fully returned now. I can feel it.’

‘If it’s all the same,’ said Lug, ‘I think I’ll stay here with my family. I might try and use my worm powers. I have a good feeling about it this time.’

‘We’ll need the special one, Lug,’ said Liska, taking the heart from him. ‘We’ll need the god worm.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ Lug gave her a lopsided smile and then surprised her by throwing his arms around her in a tight hug. She squeezed him back. After everything they had been through together, everything they had seen . . . it felt wrong to be leaving him behind.

‘To your positions then,’ said Edda, interrupting the moment. ‘And good luck, everyone.’

Liska was just being lifted back up to Embla’s shoulder by one of her massive hands when a hideous cacophony of screeching and yowling ripped through the air. Everyone looked back towards the mountains where the sound was coming from, and saw a bounding flock of at least five hundred kittimews flowing down from the slopes towards them.

Many mages stepped into a combat stance ready to defend themselves, but Edda himself bellowed at them to hold.

‘Stay your spellcraft! These are kittimews! Our first and oldest friends!’

The group tumbled and scampered over to them, clustering around Embla and Liska. Looking down, she could see fur of every colour and pattern, clothes made of knitted and patched odds and ends and armour cobbled together from pieces of junk and unwanted kitchenware.