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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 had watched the tension rising within Leofstan for some time. He could not sit silently by and listen to this twisted portrayal of good and evil. But my heart sank to hear him openly confront Scomric, for there was no doubting that the man was mad. And we had seen what he was capable of.

“I am Ljósberari!” Scomric shouted, rising to his feet again. He appeared to grow in stature, to tower over us. His eyes gleamed with the flames of the candles and I thought of all those he had burnt, all those bonfires his eyes had watched. All those screams he must have listened to. “I bring the light to these damned people. I had hoped that God had sent you to help me in my quest. But now I see the truth.” Lashing out across the table with a speed I did not expect, he grabbed a handful of Leofstan’s linen robe, dragging him forward. Then, without pause, Scomric flicked his right hand. There was a flash of metal in the gloom and Leofstan jerked, overturning the bowl of berries, his hands flailing and scratching at Scomric’s arm.

That arm was slick with blood, bright and terrible, and with a dreadful shudder of horror, I saw that Scomric had slit Leofstan’s throat. I lurched forwards, not knowing whether I would try to help my friend or attack the madman who had cut him, but Chlotar’s strong hands gripped me, and I felt the cold of a knife at my neck.

“Sit,” he hissed.

The blood gushed from Leofstan’s neck, bubbling over Scomric’s forearm and hand, pouring onto the table, to smother the raspberries that lay there. Leofstan was making a gurgling, mewling sound, trying to speak, but I could make out no words. His skin was pale and already the flow, pumping with each beat of his heart, was slowing. Ljósberari, dark eyes glowing with excitement, snatched up his empty cup and held it beneath Leofstan’s trembling form. The blood splashed into the vessel, quickly filling it. When it was full, Scomric, the mad light bearer, released his hold on the monk and Leofstan slid from the bench, to lie, blinking and gasping, in the rushes at my feet. Our eyes met for the briefest of moments, and then all movement ceased, and my friend and mentor was gone.

I could not move. I had come expecting death at the hands of these men, but nothing had prepared me for this sudden, vicious slaughter. It had come too quickly, without warning, and I sat stunned, barely feeling now the metal of the knife at my throat.

Chlotar’s sniggering laughter penetrated my clouded mind and a shiver racked my body.

Aghast, I watched as Ljósberari lifted the brimming cup to his lips. My gorge rose, stinging the back of my throat as he drank deeply, the viscous liquid trickling down his chin.