BooksBarbecue
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

“If we cross paths again,” he screamed, “I will kill you.”

Nobody answered him. Perhaps he addressed all of us, but I felt his words were directed at me alone and I felt vulnerable and exposed as I turned my back to him to wade through the shallow waves. Reaching up, I grasped thankfully the helping hands of my crew mates and clambered over the side.

A few of the men clapped me on the back, congratulating me for my quick thinking. I was glad of their praise, and welcomed the thought that perhaps I was not loathed by all aboard the ship. A shouted command from Runolf silenced the men, and I was left to my brooding and in doubt of the skipper’s opinion of me.

We manned the oars for a time, heaving the ship out into the sound. Even though I could not see over the strakes from where I sat on my sea chest, I imagined Tannskári’s folk glaring at Brymsteda, spitting hatred and curses after us, as the ship grew distant and small.

I prayed silently for a time, but even the solace of prayer seemed unattainable to me. So for a long while, as I pulled on the loom of the oar, I relived the events of the last days, plunging myself ever further towards despair as I questioned what manner of man I had become.

Finally, Runolf had called for the oars to be shipped and the sail raised. We slipped out of the thinning mist, past the looming rocks and cliffs and onto the open sea. The wind filled the sail, and with a gentle creaking of the mast and a satisfying flexing of the strakes beneath us, the longship cut a straight line through the surf eastward.

“If this wind keeps up,” I heard Runolf say to Mancas, “we will see the shore of my homeland in two days.”

With the good wind, and the sail set, we could all begin to relax. Each section’s small crew set about breaking their fast, and the scent of smoke drifted over the ship as small fires were lit in earthenware pots made for the purpose. I had no task, so I stood at the port side of the ship, my back towards Runolf and the rest of the men who thought me somehow tainted by my actions.

A hand touched my shoulder, startling me from my reverie. Turning, I saw it was Scurfa. He offered me a cup of water. I took it with a grunt of thanks, and drank.

“You did well,” the sailor said. Then, after an awkward pause, he went on. “If not for you, we might all be dead. Drosten, for sure.”