'He must be the guardian of the eighth circle. We'll have to get past him before we can throw Balduur's head into Morpeth's Mouth.'
Alison pointed to a ring of light that circled the boulder on which the old man was sitting. 'Is that the eighth circle?'
'Aye. Enter that without his permission and you will be consumed by fire.'
She turned her attention to the boy, who was dressed in a school uniform of the sort her grandfather might have worn: peaked cap, striped blazer, short trousers and long socks. He seemed to belong to her former realm. Then she remembered that he didn't belong to any realm.
'Is that the sixth circle?' She pointed to the ring of light that surrounded the boy's boulder.
'Aye,' Fury nodded.
'Then that is where our journey ends.' Alison squeezed his hand. 'Miralda told us about Red Fox's Leap and how it leads back to my old realm.'
'Aye. But first we must deliver Balduur's head.'
Fury stepped towards the eighth circle and the guardian drew himself up. A moment earlier he had looked like a statue. Now he took on a very lifelike appearance. His mouth opened and he spoke in a voice like thunder.
'Who dares approach this most fearsome place?'
'Fury Ap-Cronwyn of the tribe of the Catti.'
The old man scrutinised him.
'For what purpose?'
'I seek a warrior's passage to the realm beyond the eighth gate.'
A wry smile crossed the ancient face. 'You have the appearance of a young man, Ap-Cronwyn. Can it be I have misunderstood you?'
Fury held up the bag with the head. 'I do not seek passage for myself but for Balduur the Great.'
'Hmm ...' The old man consulted a scroll.
'He was a great warrior,' Fury said.
The guardian looked up from the scroll. 'Why hasn't he presented himself in person ... this great warrior?'
'He can't ... he's dead.'
There was a moment of silence followed by a wheezing noise. It grew and ended in an ironic laugh. 'A lot of us are dead, Ap-Cronwyn ... that doesn't stop us travelling.'
'It stopped Balduur.' Fury said. 'He was killed in battle and his soul light got trapped. I have it here in this bag.'
'You have his soul in a bag?'
'Aye. His head was preserved and the soul is trapped.'
The old man wagged a finger.
'Don't just stand there. Take it out. Let us have a look at it. Then we might know what you're stupid mouth is saying.'