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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

Groaning, I pushed myself up, feeling as if I had not slept at all. The beach was littered with slumbering men around the glowing coals of the fire. Several more had decided to sleep aboard Brymsteda. I realised I was able to make out details of the shingled beach, and of the ship down by the wharf, the tall mast, furled sail and dripping rigging. Looking inland, I could already clearly see the charred timbers of the hall and the burnt buildings, even the swaying leaves of the elms on the hill. I felt as though I had only just closed my eyes, and now it was already dawn. The days are long and darkness fleeting so close to midsummer in Rygjafylki. The sky was clear now, the clouds and rain having blown over in the brief night.

I went down to the water’s edge and watched the sun rise over the expanse of the great fjord. All around were mountains and islands. Gulls dotted the pale sky and I narrowed my eyes at the brilliant sunlight and sea glare. I breathed in deeply of the cool, early morning air. Standing with my back to the destruction of the settlement, all I saw was a peaceful, rich land of water, mountains and trees. If I thought about it too long, my imaginings of the anguish of the people who had died here threatened to overwhelm me. I recalled Runolf’s pain as he’d heard about Estrid, and I thought of the terrible sorrow he must have felt at losing his son. To learn that his daughter, Revna, had been taken by this crazed thrall, must have tormented him. As far as I knew, she was his only remaining kin, and I was sure Runolf would never rest until he had freed her, or died in the attempt. He must have spent the night torturing himself with worry for what she was having to endure. I recalled walking through the burnt remains of the settlement the previous afternoon. Runolf’s face had been set into a hard mask and I could only imagine the blackness of his thoughts as he took in the destruction, and thought of his family and friends’ suffering.

Aelfwyn’s face came to me then, as I stared into the rising sun, but I did not wish to open the doors of my mind to thoughts of her. I was not as strong as Runolf. I had hoped for so long that I would be able to rescue her, and now I found that she was gone, perhaps dead, or maybe in the thrall of this murderous Ljósberari. The thought of it was too much to bear.