BOOK 1

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THE BLACK GUARD

THE TALE OF THE GIANTS

In the long ages of deep time, uncountable millennia before the rise of men, there lived a race of Giants.

Continents shifted and mountains rose and fell as the Giants fought the Long War for the right to possess the lands of their birth. The greatest Giants, mortal beings of huge size and power, lived long enough, fought hard enough and gained enough wisdom to become gods.

Rowanoco, the Ice Giant, claimed the cold northern lands and was worshipped by the men of Ranen.

Jaa, the Fire Giant, ruled the burning desert sands to the south and chose the men of Karesia as his followers.

The Stone Giant, known only as the One, held dominion over the lush plains and towering mountains of Tor Funweir, and his followers, the men of Ro, believed they had the right to rule all the lands of men.

Other Giants there were also, though their names and their followers are thought lost, and their empires buried, as victims of the Long War.

The Giants have long since left these lands to the humans, but their followers still worship them, invoke their names daily and aggressively maintain their laws. The Giants themselves sit beyond the perception of humans in their halls beyond the world while their most trusted followers fight the Long War in their stead.

PROLOGUE

Lord Bromvy of Canarn stood by the docks of Ro Tiris and wrapped his heavy travelling cloak tightly around his shoulders. The city had two main docks, one used primarily for trade ships and private galleons, while the other, the one near which he currently stood, was exclusively for the king and his knights. Brom had arrived via the smaller of the two harbours a few days ago, leaving most of his lordly trappings back in his father's keep at Ro Canarn. Only his longsword gave any indication of his heritage, a finely crafted blade with the cast of a raven on the hilt. He wore simple leather armour and looked more like a brigand than a noble, with unkempt curly black hair and a thin beard which made him look rather fierce. The young lord had travelled widely throughout the lands of men and preferred to be an anonymous presence rather than a visiting noble. The duchy of Canarn was over the sea from the rest of Tor Funweir and a world away from the snobbery of the other duchies. Bromvy and his sister Bronwyn had been raised by their father, Duke Hector, to be as worldly as possible, and in Brom's case this meant spending as much time away from home as he could. He had just passed his twenty-fourth birthday and as he gazed at the now empty docks Brom found himself wishing for the simple life of an itinerant traveller.

The majority of the ships had been launched several hours ago. Brom had watched as they sailed north towards his home, the walled city of Ro Canarn. He hadn't counted the knights of the Red on board, but it had looked to be a battle fleet capable of sacking the city. The crossed swords mounted over a clenched fist had been visible on their tabards and Brom knew this meant battle was intended. More worrying were the mercenary ships of Sir Hallam Pevain which accompanied the knights. They were swords for hire with a brutal reputation and Brom had fought the urge to roar out a challenge to the bastards as they'd left.

King Sebastian Tiris still stood on a high balcony overlooking the harbour, where he had watched his departing troops with an imperious sneer. He hadn't seen Brom skulking far below him, and the young lord stayed as far away as possible. He'd met the king once before and didn't want to take the chance that the lordly shit-stain would recognize him and have him arrested. If the king had made the move to assault Canarn, it meant that Duke Hector's children would already have been named to the Black Guard, as enemies of the crown.

Brom's mind was racing as he mentally chastised his father for being foolish and offering the king his chance to overthrow the house of Canarn and bring it securely within the lands of Ro. His home had always been seen as a forgotten province, over the sea and too close to the Freelands of Ranen for comfort. But the king had frequently stated his desire to take back his land from the liberal men of Canarn, and it seemed Duke Hector had finally given him his excuse.

Brom was angry but also largely helpless, and he began trying to contrive a way to get help. Most pressing on his mind was the woman who stood next to the king, her elegant hand holding back her lustrous black hair against the wind. She was a Karesian from the south and Brom knew her kind: an enchantress of the Seven Sisters, capable of swaying the will of men. What she was doing with the king of Tor Funweir he did not know, but Brom had seen her cackle as the ships were launched and King Tiris announced his intention to capture Ro Canarn. The euphoric look in the monarch's eyes as he looked at her had made Brom think that the enchantress was more than a simple consort. This was doubly concerning because, before he'd left, Brom had seen another of the Seven Sisters in Ro Canarn: an enchantress with a spider's web tattoo on her face, Ameira the Lady of Spiders. Why the Karesian enchantresses were interested in his homeland was not clear, but Brom left the docks with the intention of finding out.

As he turned towards the city with the vague goal of first finding a tavern and a drink, he began to think of all the people he could go to for aid. The list was not a long one and was comprised primarily of killers, criminals and scoundrels, men...