Heirn cleared his throat nervously, as though half-fearing that he was being made the butt of some bizarre joke. ‘I can accept that you’ve fought a war against someone,’ he said. ‘But you’re asking a lot of me to accept that it was against some mythic creature suddenly returned from the depths of time.’ He looked at his hands. ‘I’ve seen and heard some strange things, but I’m still a blacksmith — a practical man, dealing with practical matters. Men live and then they die — all of us. And they don’t come back to life. How can a man do what you’ve described? It’s not possible.’
‘I’ve no good answers for you, Heirn,’ Atlon replied. ‘He’s not a man — perhaps not even a mortal creature as we understand it. I told you, we don’t know what or why He is, but that’s the case with many things we acc
