Valour

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The cauldron was a hulking mass of black iron, tall and wide, squatting upon a dais in the centre of a cavernous room. Torches of blue flame hung on the walls of the chamber, pockets of light punctuating the darkness. In the shadows, circling its edges, long and sinuous shapes moved.

Uthas of the Benothi giants strode towards the cauldron, his shadow flickering on the walls. He climbed the steps and stopped before it. It was utterly black, appearing to suck the torchlight into it, consuming it, reflecting nothing back. Just for a moment it seemed to shudder, a gentle throb, like a diseased heart.

A muffled request from the chamber’s entrance reached him but he did not move, just continued to stare.

‘What?’ he said eventually.

‘Nemain sends for you, Uthas. She says the Dreamer is waking.’

The giant sighed and turned to leave the chamber. He brushed his fingertips against the cauldron’s cold belly and froze.

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