He turned to see Nemain, Queen of the Benothi, once wife to Skald, the first king, and the first slain, first casualty in the War of Treasures. Over two thousand years had passed, yet she still wore the grief of it in her eyes, the twist of her mouth, the set of her shoulders. Dark hair framed a face of sharp angles and deep shadows. All giants were pale, but her skin appeared paper thin, almost translucent. The weight of years hangs heavy upon her. Despite that, strength radiated from her still, tempered with the weariness in her grey eyes. It was more than just the physical contours of her musculature. She is formidable yet.
At the sound of her voice ravens burst to life from their roosts in the cliff face about the balcony, a swirling, raucous host. For a moment they flew so densely about her that she was hidden from sight, covered by a diaphanous, black-winged cloak, then they cleared and spread apart, some returning to their nests, others floating on the updraughts. Nemain smiled at them.
She actually likes them. He remembered throwing his knife at Fech, putting it through the bird’s body. It had been satisfying.
‘You have had a hard journey,’ Nemain said as she walked closer. Sreng, her shield-maiden was a shadow behind her.
‘Aye. Five of the kin slain.’
‘The south is a dangerous place now.’
‘That it is.’
‘And what news?’
‘There is much,’ Uthas said. ‘Most of it confirming what we suspected, or had heard whispered. Rhin is spreading across the west, already Ardan and Narvon have fallen to her. She was invading Domhain as I began my journey home. Eremon did not march with his warband to meet her, but Rath rides at the warband’s head – he is Eremon’s battlechief once more.’
‘Perhaps they will all kill each other. Even if only Rath were to fall, some good at least would come from this.’
‘Aye. We can hope.’
‘Yes, we can. And what of the Black Sun – Ethlinn’s dreaming, she says he is coming. Have you seen anything? Divined any sign?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing.’
She moved closer to him then, gazing into his eyes, so close that their bodies almost touched. She lifted a hand and cupped his cheek. He returned her gaze for as long as he could bear, then he glanced away.
What does she see? The desires of my heart?
‘You saw the walls of Dun Taras. I can see the memory of it weighing heavy upon you.’
‘I did. It has been so long, but I remembered . . .’ His words faltered.
‘Memory is a double-edged sword, Uthas. It can keep you strong through dark times, but it can also cripple you, keep you locked in a moment that no longer exists.’ The focus of her eyes shifted, glazing as she remembered events from long ago.
You speak so true, my Queen. Your memories are shackles about you, stopping you from using the Treasures, snaring you in a web of fear. Not I. I will do what must be done.
She dropped her hand from his face and stepped away.
‘Recover your strength and we shall talk again soon. Ethlinn says the time of testing is almost upon us. We must be ready.’
It is already upon us.
‘Aye, we must.’
She left him then, her shield-maiden Sreng following. Soon after the door had closed behind them a figure stepped from a shadowed alcove. Salach.
‘Does she suspect?’ the giant asked.
Uthas drew in a shuddering breath. ‘No. I don’t think so.’ He shrugged. ‘The die is cast now. There is no going back.’
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THREE
TUKUL
Tukul felt the blow ripple through his arms, from wrist to shoulders, then dissolve into his chest and back. He spun on his heel, surging around his opponent, using the momentum for a backswing that would kill if it connected with flesh.
It didn’t; the blow was deflected, the power leaking from it as Tukul was momentarily forced off balance.
‘Well done,’ Tukul said, and patted Gar on the shoulder. My son.
Gar all but glowed at his father’s praise.
‘That’s enough for an old man,’ Tukul said, unbinding the cloth and lambswool from his blade, used both to protect it during sparring and to mute the noise. He smiled to himself.
I am happy, he realized. The journey northwards had been one of quiet camaraderie, spent in the company of his son, his sword-kin about him, and the Seren Disglair riding at their head. I am reunited with my son. My beloved son, who has surpassed all of the hopes and dreams I have nurtured about him for so many years. He is capable, measured, strong, compassionate. Different from us other Jehar who have been hidden away from the world. More open, a mixture of proud and humble.
And I am in the company of the Seren Disglair, finally doing, after all these years of waiting. Setting about the serious business of defeating the Black Sun. He smiled at the clouds above him. It is good to be alive.