Ah, that’s better!” Redrought boomed again. In fact, the King only ever seemed to bellow, boom or shout, no matter what his mood. But nobody seemed to mind too much; at least he never had to repeat himself.

He may be King Redrought Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield, Bear of the North, Defender of the Realm, Descendent of Thor, but to Thirrin he was just Dad, a man with a fondness for cats, a taste for comfy slippers and a huge laugh that could dent pewter at fifty paces.

In all that enormous excitement of fighting spirit, only Oskan noticed that the terrible warlike figure of Redrought Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield, Bear of the North, Drinker of Blood was still wearing his fluffy slippers and that Primplepuss the kitten was peeping out of his shirt collar to see what all the noise was about.

If you reach for the stars, you just might land on a decently sized hill.

Thirrin and King Grishmak reached the entranceway and swept out of the Blood Place, followed by their escorts and Oskan. The massive double doors slammed shut after them with a deep boom. Oskan woke from his reverie with a shock – the slamming doors had only just missed him. Swinging round furiously he glared at the studded and hinged woodwork with such fierce intensity that suddenly they burst open again, crashing back against the walls inside the palace and splintering deeply.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean to be rude,” he bellowed over the heads of the courtiers cowering just inside the entrance. “Your doors seem to be slammed shut in a draught. I’d get that fixed if I were you.

Healers make the most dreadful enemies, Scion of the House of Strong-in-the-Arm. The knowledge that saves lives can be used to do exactly the opposite. Especially when they have the blood of the Wise Ones in their veins.