The next morning, Anira woke at dawn. Dunkan and Little Gavin were huddled against her and were still sleeping, but despite the warmth of their bodies, Anira shivered with cold. Her breath formed little clouds in front of her face. She rubbed her hands together to regain some feeling in her fingers. Suddenly, she went rigid and let out a shriek. Two figures were observing them from the shadows of the forest. Dunkan and Little Gavin immediately jolted awake.

‘What’s wrong?’ Dunkan asked and looked around in confusion.

Wide eyed, Anira stretched out her arm. ‘There…’ she said in a tremulous voice. ‘Among the trees.’

Dunkan gasped for air. By the Gods,’ he said. He pulled Little Gavin closer and hid his brother’s face in his arms.

Even though she had known all along, Anira couldn’t believe her eyes. ‘They have our horses,’ she muttered. ‘That’s how they found us.’

One of the creatures slowly stepped out of the shadows. It was gigantic, at least three heads taller than the tallest man Anira had ever met. Its physique, however, was nothing like that of a human. Its arms and legs were enormous. Anira counted only four fingers on each hand, and the creature’s feet were flat with short thick toenails, like those of large land mammals. A leather-like torso was covered in thin fur that grew wilder around the shoulder and neck. The creature’s head hunched down from its shoulders, ending in a broad snout with two gigantic tusks protruding from its jaws. It wore only a loincloth around its waist and dragged its left leg behind him as it walked towards them. A damaged left arm was held closely to its body in an unnatural way, while a gigantic battle mace was clutched in its good hand.

From the corner of her eye, Anira saw Dunkan reach for his sword. His fingers slowly closed around the hilt, and, in spite of the cold, sweat was dripping down his brow. He carefully rose and pushed Anira and Little Gavin behind him. Anira protectively wrapped her arms around her little cousin but couldn’t keep her eyes off the creature.

When Dunkan unsheathed his sword, the Guyin halted. It knitted its bushy eyebrows into a frown, causing big wrinkles to appear across its brow. It tightened its grip on its mace and motioned for its companion, who came out from behind the trees, leading the two horses by their reins. There were two long scars on its chest, as though it had been mauled by a wolf, and one of its eye sockets was empty.

Dunkan crouched down into a fighting stance. Anira saw that his left leg was shaking as he prepared for his attack, but the Guyins didn’t move.

‘Wait!’ Anira hissed at Dunkan. ‘Not yet.’ Little Gavin had wrapped his arms around her waist and was hiding his face in her cloak.

The Guyins turned their heads towards her. The Guyin standing nearest to them uttered a strange guttural sound and bared its teeth. Anira recoiled at the sight but then carefully took a step in its direction and spread out her arms. With Little Gavin hiding behind her, she showed them her bare hands. ‘Please, don’t hurt us,’ she said. ‘I beg you. We’re lost. We only want to go back to the village.’

The first Guyin pointed its mace at Dunkan and let out a hoarse cry.

‘Lower your sword, Dunkan,’ Anira said.

Dunkan didn’t move.

The Guyin held its head askew and growled, its face contorted into a grimace as it raised its mace. Its growling steadily got louder and louder, while its companion reached for the stone knife at its waist.

‘Do it,’ Anira hissed, ‘or you’ll get us all killed.’

Nobody moved, but then Dunkan heaved a deep sigh and lowered his sword. In response, the Guyins also relaxed. Dunkan took a few steps back and sheathed his sword. ‘Now what?’ he whispered.

‘Wait,’ Anira said. She pointed at the horses. ‘Those are ours,’ she said slowly. She tapped her hands on her chest. ‘Can we have them back?’

The Guyins looked at each other. They remained silent for a while, but then the second Guyin walked over with the horses and handed Anira the reins.

‘Don’t!’ Dunkan said when Anira slowly walked towards him. She smelled the bitter, earthy body odor of the Guyin. She ignored her cousin and reached out her hand. When her fingers closed around the end of the reins, the Guyin opened his hand. Anira bowed slightly and walked back with the horses. Little Gavin’s stomach chose that exact moment to growl. He put his hands to his stomach and looked frightened. The Guyin with the limp had heard the sound and stared inquisitively at the little boy. He brought his fingers to his mouth and pretended to be eating.

‘Is he going to…?’ Little Gavin asked. The frightened look in his eyes clearly showed what he was afraid of.

‘No,’ Anira said and looked the Guyin in the eye, ‘I think he wants to know if we’re hungry.’ She imitated the gesture and rubbed her stomach.

The Guyin dropped its mace and removed the pouch from its belt. It knelt down on its good leg and spread the contents of the pouch on the ground. It consisted of a substantial number of berries and nuts. Then it stepped back. Anira tied the horses to a low-hanging branch, cautiously stepped forwards, and kneeled in front of the food. She put some berries in her mouth and started to chew. The Guyin made a satisfied noise and motioned questioningly at Anira’s cousins.

‘Come, I don’t think we have to be afraid of them,’ Anira said quietly to Dunkan and Little Gavin. ‘But you wouldn’t want to insult them by turning down their food now, would you?’

Dunkan took Little Gavin by the hand and reluctantly joined his cousin. He kneeled down beside her but kept his eyes on the Guyins. Anira gave Little Gavin some berries. He nervously hunched his shoulders and carefully started to eat. Dunkan cracked one of the nuts and put its contents in his mouth. He slowly started to chew. While they were eating, the Guyin with the limp made some guttural sounds and pointed to the west. Its companion nodded in agreement. They waited until Anira and her cousins had finished eating and then gestured that they should follow them.

‘What do they want from us?’ Dunkan asked. He got up and grabbed Little Gavin’s hand.

‘I don’t know,’ Anira said, ‘but so far they have been very helpful.’ She got up, untied the horses, and carefully walked towards the Guyins. She made a questioning gesture with her hands.

The Guyin with the limp stared at her for a moment and pointed to the west.

‘I think the village lies in the other direction,’ Dunkan said softly.

When Anira didn’t respond, the Guyin walked towards her. Anira resisted the urge to back away. The Guyin carefully took her by the arm and pulled her several feet deeper into the forest. She didn’t dare to resist him. Her cousins followed warily, but Dunkan’s eyes grew wide when the Guyin pointed at tracks on the ground. Anira let out a cry of relief and nodded gratefully at the Guyin.

‘They’re taking us to Ervingal,’ Dunkan reassured his brother. ‘You don’t have to be afraid of them.’

The Guyins led them through the forest. Anira observed the half-giants attentively. Even though they were heavily built, they easily blended into the shadows of the forest and even the Guyin with the limp moved almost in full silence. Only its injured leg made a soft sound with each step as the Guyin dragged it behind itself.

After almost an hour, the trees thinned, and they reached a small clearing with a rugged rock formation rising up from the ground. Behind some boulders, a wisp of smoke rose up into the air. Concealing themselves among the trees, they circled around the rock formation. Ervingal was sitting next to a small campfire, smoking his pipe. As Anira and her cousins walked into the clearing, the Guyins remained hidden among the trees. Little Gavin started to run. ‘Dad!’ he yelled. ‘We thought you were dead.’

Ervingal jumped to his feet. His pipe fell on the ground. ‘Go away,’ he said. He made a half-hearted gesture with his hand as though he was shooing off an insect. ‘You have no reason to be here.’ He was holding his sword tightly in his arms but stood on shaky legs. He recoiled when Little Gavin came near him.

Anira smelled the scent of nightshade and saw that his eyes were bloodshot. ‘I know why you ran away, Ervingal,’ she said. ‘How could you be so stupid?’

Ervingal winced. When he didn’t respond, Dunkan walked up to him with great strides. ‘Is it true? Have you made a pact with the God of War?’ He grabbed his stepfather by his shoulders and gave him a good shaking.

‘Go back to the village,’ Ervingal said in a wavering voice. ‘You’re not safe here. My brother and his wife will take good care of you. Won’t they, Anira?’

Anira shook her head in anger, but when she looked into Ervingal’s pleading eyes, she realized that his question was sincere. ‘You’re their father,’ she said. ‘You should take care of them.’

Dunkan let go of Ervingal and made a growling noise.

‘You can’t just leave us, Dad.’ Little Gavin’s eyes were filled with incomprehension.

‘It’s best for everyone,’ Ervingal answered. ‘Forget about me and go back to the village. Make sure that my brother takes you home with him as soon as possible. You’re not safe here.’

Anira looked over her shoulder and saw that the Guyins were observing them from the forest. ‘No,’ she said to her uncle in a determined voice. ‘You have to come back with us to convince the village council to leave Varna.’

Ervingal looked resentful. ‘I’ve done all I can. You know that no one will believe me, Anira. You’ve seen it yourself. And have I not taught the villagers how to forge iron swords? Maybe now they’ll stand a chance.’

‘How can you do this to us?’ Dunkan said. ‘Little Gavin has never known another father.’ Dunkan clenched his fists. ‘Come with us. We’ll leave Varna and go back to the capital. We’ll help you pick up your old life as the palace master swordsmith and restore your reputation.’

‘You have to give your sword to Merg,’ Anira said. ‘It will deliver you from your doom. It’s the only way…’

Ervingal shook his head and looked at Dunkan and Little Gavin. ‘I don’t want to go back.’ He softly stroked the scabbard of his sword. He was lost in his thoughts and a smile appeared on his face.

‘Ervingal, please!’ Dunkan desperately gestured at his little brother, who disbelievingly tried to keep up with the discussion. ‘Don’t we mean anything to you?’

‘My destiny lies elsewhere,’ Ervingal whispered. ‘I can see that now.’

‘We can’t let you do this,’ Anira said. ‘If you don’t come with us voluntarily, we’ll force you.’ She nodded at Dunkan. ‘Take his sword.’

Ervingal was immediately on the alert and looked around nervously when Dunkan stepped forward, but because of the rock formation behind him, he couldn’t go anywhere. When Dunkan reached out, Ervingal drew his sword. ‘Never!’ he yelled. ‘I’ll never relinquish my creation. I’d rather die!’

At the same time that Ervingal uttered these words, the air around them started to vibrate and the flames of the campfire flared up. With his laughter resounding through the forest preceding him, the God of War suddenly appeared. Ervingal looked around wild eyed and got ready to run away, but Merg forced him to his knees with a simple wave of his hand.

‘You didn’t think you could get out of your promise that easily now, did you, Ervingal?’ Merg asked. ‘You should know better, but I can tell from the confused look in your eyes that you’ve taken leave of your senses.’ He laughed and gestured at Ervingal’s pipe next to him on the ground.

Ervingal tried to stand up, but Merg controlled him. ‘Let me make you another sword,’ he muttered. ‘Even more beautiful and stronger than the first one but let me keep this one. I beg you.’ He desperately clung the weapon to his body.

‘Are you insane?’ Anira screamed. She stared at the blue sheen on the Ether-steel blade. ‘Give him your sword, Ervingal. He will kill you.’ In her mind she could hear the weapon’s seductive song. She knew that Ervingal heard it as well. That he was completely under its spell.

The God of War looked down at Ervingal. ‘We had an agreement,’ he said. He scrutinized Ervingal. ‘That sword belongs to me. We both know that.’

Ervingal looked at Merg with pleading eyes. ‘I put everything I have into that sword. It’s a part of me. I beg you, ask me for something else as payment.’

Merg’s expression grew stern. ‘The favors of the Gods don’t come without a price.’

Ervingal growled angrily. Sweat streamed down his face while he raised the sword against Merg. The weapon was shaking in his hands. His arm didn’t reach much higher than his shoulder. Gasping for breath, he fell headfirst and landed on his hands.

Anira saw tears well up in her uncle’s eyes. She wanted to go to him, but Dunkan stopped her. ‘We have to do something,’ she hissed.

‘Give me the sword,’ Merg demanded. ‘And be honored that Merg, God of War, will carry your creation.’ He reached out to take the weapon, but Ervingal didn’t move. ‘I see,’ Merg said slowly. ‘You’d rather die, would you?’

With sagging shoulders, Ervingal turned to his stepsons. ‘Dunkan, Little Gavin, I’m sorry,’ he sobbed. ‘For the first time since your mother died, I’ve found happiness again. A true connection.’ In spite of his tears, he gave them a hopeful look. ‘Don’t you want me to be happy?’

Little Gavin started crying. ‘You’ve gone mad,’ Dunkan said in defeat.

‘I don’t expect you to understand,’ Ervingal said to them. Ashamed, he averted his eyes. ‘But I’ve made my decision.’

‘You’re tougher than I expected, human.’ Merg got up and stretched his back. ‘Maybe I should reward you.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I’ll give you a choice, Ervingal,’ he finally said.

‘I’m listening, Lord.’ The sword was shaking in Ervingal’s hands.

Merg gave a satisfied nod. ‘I’ll kill you and take the sword. Or…’ His eyes sparkled. ‘You shall give me your spirit and I will merge it with the sword, creating a truly supreme and bespirited weapon. A weapon worthy of the God of War.’ He gave Ervingal a piercing look. ‘This way you’ll become one with your creation, for eternity. That is the only way…’ he concluded slowly. ‘I won’t have to kill you.’

Everyone remained silent, but Anira saw the desire growing in Ervingal’s eyes. Dunkan pushed Little Gavin towards her.

‘What do you think, Ervingal?’ Merg asked.

Then, Dunkan drew his sword and ran at the God. He raised his weapon and aimed for his neck, but before the blade even came close, Merg made a quick movement with his arm and sent Dunkan flying backwards several yards.

‘No!’ Anira screamed as Merg was getting ready to deliver the final blow. Merg’s arm froze. There was a strange, dark glow between his fingers.

‘Please, Lord. I beg you,’ Anira said, running to Dunkan with Little Gavin. She stood protectively in front of Dunkan. ‘Let him live.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Ervingal suddenly declared.

Merg grinned and turned towards him. ‘Good,’ Merg said greedily. ‘So, it will be done.’

Ervingal bowed to the God and offered him the sword. ‘Let us be joined then, for all of eternity.’ He closed his eyes and waited.

Merg kneeled in front of him and regarded him for a moment. A dark look appeared behind his eyes as he reached for the sword. Ervingal was shaking all over while Merg closed his fingers around the hilt and took the sword. When Ervingal had let go of the weapon, he fell headfirst, gasping. Merg raised the weapon and extended his free hand to Ervingal. His hand contracted into a claw. Ervingal’s breath got stuck in his throat and he started shaking all over now. The God started to unravel the tendrils of his spirit and Ervingal let out a voiceless scream.

Anira averted her eyes and sought comfort with Dunkan, who was watching the events with a vacant expression. ‘Don’t look,’ he said tonelessly to Little Gavin.

Dark rain clouds were gathering over Merg’s head as he weaved the tendrils of Ervingal’s spirit back together within the Ether-steel of the sword. Ervingal’s body convulsed one last time and then remained motionless. Little Gavin was wailing. The God of War uttered an incantation that caused the weapon to glow white-hot. The first raindrops hissed as they splashed on the blade. Merg looked Anira in the eye. ‘There’s no need for sorrow,’ he said to her. ‘Ervingal’s sacrifice will guard your people from much harm over the centuries.’

He took the scabbard from Ervingal’s lifeless body and attached it to his belt. Dunkan and Little Gavin were staring dead-eyed into space, their spirits completely broken. ‘Besides, I think your uncle has suffered enough.’ Merg looked pleased with himself.

Anira was at the end of her tether. ‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked.

‘I mean that it’s all too much of a coincidence, isn’t it? The death of Ervingal’s wife, his gambling debts, the mission he was given by the King.’

‘The King?’

‘Indeed,’ Merg said. ‘Sometimes one would do well to think about who stands to gain from certain events. Events like the decision to send a master swordsmith to a remote area where, apart from a gigantic forest, the only things to be found are bog iron and iron ore.’ He sheathed the sword with contentment on his face. I’m sure the head foreman could tell you a thing or two about that.’ He laughed. ‘Oh well, none of it matters anymore.’ He gestured towards the edge of the forest. ‘You really shouldn’t think that all Guyins are as eager to help as those two. The weakest members of the Guyin society are all but cast out. One walks with a limp, the other is missing an eye; neither of them have much of a life among their own kind.’ He laughed. ‘No, the Guyins will soon attack. It’s inevitable. You’ve heard their war drums, haven’t you?’

‘You’re a cruel bastard,’ Anira sighed.

‘Maybe I am,’ Merg said, ‘but don’t forget: it’s the Gods who rule the Land of Spirits, Anira, not humankind.’

Dunkan jumped up and ran at Merg with his sword drawn, but by the time he was close enough to strike, Merg had already disappeared into the Ether. Dunkan’s sword cut through the air and went deep into the earth. He slumped to his knees in defeat.