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battle. Veradis scowled.
Are Kastell and Maquin marked by one of those thorns?
    Akar sat at the fire with another of the Jehar, a dark-haired, sharp-featured woman. She looked young, as far as Veradis could tell, not much different in age from him. He frowned, still not
comfortable with the thought of female warriors, and especially not ones as skilled as the Jehar.
    Lothar made his farewells and strode off into the darkness. No one had wanted to camp amongst the silent graves of Haldis, so they had settled on the sloping approach to the burial grounds, not
far from where Veradis had viewed the battle that morning. It seemed a long time ago.
    Campfires flickered all along the ridge, warming the survivors of the battle. Around four thousand warriors had marched into Haldis. Fewer than a thousand had survived, and half of that number
belonged to Veradis’ warband and the Jehar. Romar’s warband had been almost entirely destroyed, only Jael and a few score others surviving. Braster’s warband had fared little
better, only the few hundred that had carried his wounded body from the field remained.
    ‘Well?’ Veradis said across the flames. ‘How is King Braster?’
    ‘His wound was not fatal,’ Calidus replied. ‘A hammer blow crushed his shoulder. Lothar said their healers are happy with the setting of his bones, so . . .’ He shrugged.
‘He may not swing a sword again, but he’ll live.’
    ‘Good,’ Veradis said. He liked Braster. There was a gruff, blunt honesty about Helveth’s king. ‘So, what is our plan, now?’
    ‘Now it is time to find Nathair. We have been apart from him long enough.’
    ‘Excellent.’ Veradis had felt a fierce pride at being given command over this campaign, more so now for bringing his warband successfully through the conflict, even though he knew
that Calidus and Alcyon had played a large part in that, counteracting the magic of the Hunen’s elementals. Throughout the whole campaign, though, he had felt a nagging worry about Nathair,
knowing that his king, his friend, was sailing into the unknown in his search of the cauldron. He was Nathair’s first-sword; he should be at his side.
    ‘How will we find him?’ he asked. ‘He was about to sail for Ardan when we parted, but who knows where he is now?’
    ‘I have received word,’ Calidus said, tapping his head. ‘Remember, I was spymaster to the Vin Thalun for many years. Nathair is at Dun Carreg in Ardan. We will head there.
Nathair needs us, needs his advisers about him. I will make sure that Lykos meets us there.’
    ‘Huh,’ Veradis muttered, not sure if he wanted to know how Calidus would manage that. He liked the thought of leaving this forest behind, but part of him still prickled with
suspicion at the mention of the Vin Thalun. Some distrust burrowed deep.
    ‘So we leave on the morrow?’ Veradis asked.
    ‘At first light. We will travel east with Jael to Isiltir, then carry on to Ardan.’
    ‘Jael?’ Veradis said. He had disliked Kastell’s cousin the first moment he set eyes on him. He was a very different man from Kastell or Maquin, both of whom Veradis had
considered friends and who now lay dead in the tunnels beneath Haldis. By whose hand Veradis did not know, and some part of him did not want to. Another part of him could think of nothing else.
Let it go
, a voice whispered in his head.
    ‘Yes. Jael,’ Calidus said. ‘Is there any problem with that?’
    ‘No,’ said Veradis. He thought of saying more but held his tongue.
    ‘Good. Jael has a strong claim to the throne of Isiltir, now that Romar is gone. And Nathair will support him in that claim.’
    ‘It is strange,’ Veradis said, the words spilling out, ‘how Romar and all his shieldmen died in the tunnels. Yet Jael survived.’ He raised his head and stared hard at
Calidus.
    The counsellor gave a thin-lipped smile. ‘It is war. These things happen.’
    Calidus was right, men did fall in battle. Veradis had lost more shield-brothers