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Back A Night of Flames
Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise forMATTHEW HARFFY
  3. BY MATTHEW HARFFY
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright
  6. Dedication
  7. Maps
  8. Epigraph
  9. Contents
  10. Place Names
  11. One
  12. Two
  13. Three
  14. Four
  15. Five
  16. Six
  17. Seven
  18. Eight
  19. Nine
  20. Ten
  21. Eleven
  22. Twelve
  23. Thirteen
  24. Fourteen
  25. Fifteen
  26. Sixteen
  27. Seventeen
  28. Eighteen
  29. Nineteen
  30. Twenty
  31. Twenty-One
  32. Twenty-Two
  33. Twenty-Three
  34. Twenty-Four
  35. Twenty-Five
  36. Twenty-Six
  37. Twenty-Seven
  38. Twenty-Eight
  39. Twenty-Nine
  40. Thirty
  41. Thirty-One
  42. Thirty-Two
  43. Thirty-Three
  44. Thirty-Four
  45. Thirty-Five
  46. Thirty-Six
  47. Thirty-Seven
  48. Thirty-Eight
  49. Thirty-Nine
  50. Forty
  51. Forty-One
  52. Forty-Two
  53. Forty-Three
  54. Forty-Four
  55. Forty-Five
  56. Forty-Six
  57. Forty-Seven
  58. Forty-Eight
  59. Forty-Nine
  60. Fifty
  61. Fifty-One
  62. Fifty-Two
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Sixty-Two
  73. Author’s Note
  74. Acknowledgements
  75. About the Author
  76. An Invitation from the Publisher

Head held high, Runolf walked forward. His axe was still at his side and I wondered whether it would soon be swinging in the darkness, showering the night with blood. It seemed Drosten was not the only one in danger from coming here.

“I have been called both a fool and brave in my time,” Runolf said, halting a few steps in front of the dark-haired man.

They stared at each other for some time, the tension building. Then, without warning, the man with the torch made a lunge at Runolf. The red-headed giant flinched and I saw the head of the axe lift from the earth by a hand’s breath. But the torchbearer halted and did not strike Runolf. Neither moved for a heartbeat, each sizing the other man up. Then, with a grin and loud laughter, they suddenly embraced. They slapped each other on the back, and I saw Runolf had let his axe fall to the ground.

I sighed, releasing pent-up breath I had not known I had been holding in.

Still grinning, Runolf turned to us.

“This is my friend, Tannskári. This is his hall.”

Tannskári’s white teeth gleamed in the light of his torch.

“You are all welcome,” he said. “My friends will help you unload what you need.”

“I have need of repairs for my ship,” Runolf said.

Tannskári barely glanced at Brymsteda before leading Runolf away up the beach towards his hall and the warm light that spoke of shelter and rest.

“Let us talk of these things in the morning,” I heard him say as they grew distant. “It is late, and I would sleep a while more before daybreak.”

“You’ll not be needing those,” said a thickset man with thinning grey hair and a scar that ran into his white beard. He nodded at our shields and weapons. He had led the rest of Tannskári’s men down to the water’s edge, and even as he spoke, they were setting aside their spears and boards, evidently sure enough of their safety to stand unarmed before us. “My name is Ottar.”

Hereward and Mancas stepped close and I realised they might well not have understood what had been said in the tongue of the Norse. I quickly explained Runolf and Tannskári’s conversation and then introduced them to Ottar, who I assumed was Tannskári’s steward.

“I think we should put down our weapons,” I added, pointedly laying my shield on the sand and sheathing my sword.

Mancas nodded, and Hereward shouted out the order. As the crew lay down their spears and shields, so the knife-edge sharpness that had lingered on the beach, softened.

With the help of Ottar and Tannskári’s men, the ship was soon secured. While the men were lifting their chests from the deck, Drosten came close to Hereward and whispered something. Hereward nodded.