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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

“I would hear your tale now, Audun,” I said, my voice loud in the flame-flickered darkness. Many ruddy faces turned to me in the gloom. I cleared my throat and voiced the thought that burnt hottest within me. “I believe I had kin here, and I must know what became of her.”

Audun did not reply straight away. He turned to Runolf, who was slumped on the shingle of the beach, head lowered. At the sound of my words, the giant warrior looked up, first at me, then at the old goatherd. Runolf’s eyes gleamed like coals in the firelight. He nodded his assent, and Audun settled down on his haunches. He held out his cup to be refilled with some of the mead we had brought from Orkneyjar, and commenced his story.

All was silent now, as the men leaned in to listen to the old man. I knew they would not understand all of his words, but I thought they would glean the gist of his tale, and I had not the strength to act as interpreter. That night I listened for tidings of Aelfwyn and what horrors had befallen the folk who had dwelt there. I could think of nothing else.

“They came at night,” Audun said, his voice rasping like a door being pushed open after it has been long-closed. “Nobody had heard tell of Ljósberari then. Now people talk of little else, but this was one of the first halls to be attacked by that monster and his horde of devils.”

“Devils?” I said.

Runolf growled, glowering at me over the fire, his face all shadows and flame-red beard. After making us wait so long for this tale, he seemed intent now on hearing it without interruption.

“Well, they howled like devils,” Audun went on, “or creatures from Niflheimr.”

“Niflheimr? The dark place?” The word was strange to me.

“The world of mists,” he said. “It is indeed a dark place, where one of Yggdrasill’s great roots is buried. Now, do you wish to hear what I have to say, or are you going to continue to interrupt me like a child?”

I sat back, my face hot from the rebuke. On another occasion, such a comment would have provoked much jibing from the other men, but not this night. Nobody made a sound as we all waited for Audun to continue.

“Come on, old man,” rumbled Runolf from the darkness. “Tell your tale and be done with it. Hunlaf will speak no more till you are finished.”

Audun bit his lip and nodded.