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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

Trusting that Gwawrddur would keep the second man occupied, I took the third. He was armed with a spear and he prodded and jabbed at my face over his shield rim. For a heartbeat, I watched the wicked spear-point, then, the instant he made another lunge, I darted forward, catching the spear haft in my left hand and pushing it off line, away from my body. At the same moment, I shoved hard. The man staggered, perhaps colliding with a root or a stone behind him. Stumbling backwards, he fell onto his back, holding his shield over his chest and midriff for protection. Still gripping tightly to the spear, I rammed its butt into the earth, and jumped forward, both feet landing hard on the shield, driving the air from the man’s lungs.

His face was white. He stared up at me with terror in his eyes. But I was caught in the joyful, sinful ecstasy that comes from killing, and without hesitation, I smashed my sword blade into the top of his skull. Blood flowed, bright in the woodland shadows. His mouth opened in a scream I could barely hear over the waterfall’s constant roar. For an instant, I stared into his eyes, as the light dimmed and the life left him, then I scanned the forest for the last man.

There was no sign of him. But Drosten and Os, the first to reach us, had seen the running figure and I watched their backs as they sped after him as fast as they were able. I was too far away now to stand any chance of catching him, and watching them run, I knew that neither the Pict nor the Northumbrian were fast enough to stop him escaping.

Spinning to my left I was just in time to see Gwawrddur step aside as the last man aimed a swiping overarm blow at him. If it had connected, it would have cut the Welshman from crown to belly, but the blade only met air, and the attacker, off-balance, staggered forward. Gwawrddur hacked down with his sword, severing the man’s sword hand. The man’s shriek was almost utterly engulfed in the growl of the falls. A heartbeat later he was silenced completely as Gwawrddur, with unerring sword-skill, sliced his head from his shoulders.

The man’s head rolled to a halt on the soft loam before me, his unseeing eyes wide with the shock of how quickly his life had been snatched from him. Blood oozed from the neck, but the face was clean, as if he had scrubbed it in the river that morning. There was not a drop of blood on his features.