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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 followed Runolf’s massive shadow, amazed that a man so large could move with such stealth. He bent low and loped across the open ground to the first of the dark houses clustered at the foot of the slope. I followed, keeping up with him easily. Glancing over my shoulder, I could just make out the dark shapes of the others moving as silently as wraiths along the water line. I shivered. The night air was cold, and despite the solidity of the plain wooden grip of the sword in my hand, and the familiar tightness of the belt cinched at my waist, I felt horribly vulnerable. Grass whipped at my bare legs and muddy feet as I ran and I prayed nobody was awake and looking towards the river from the houses. They might not see our companions heading towards the boats, but they would have to be blind not to see me, wearing nothing more than a pale robe that flapped about me like a luffing sail.

Runolf had halted in the moon shadow of the closest building, and I slid to a halt behind him. My breath was ragged, though we had not covered much distance. My blood rushed in my ears. In an effort to calm my nerves, I breathed slowly through my mouth as quietly as possible, listening for any sound out there in the dark.

Silence.

We walked on, slowly now, flitting from shadow to shadow, moving ever closer to the looming presence of the great hall. The red glow of light that spilt beneath the doors conjured the image in my mind of a dragon’s mouth, slowly opening, ready to breath fiery death on its prey.

Off to the south, the pre-dawn light began to illuminate the shapes of the rows of burnt and skewered corpses. Soon it would be light and the bodies were a stark reminder of the fate that awaited us if we were caught by Ljósberari’s people.

A noise made Runolf halt without warning and I collided with his back. We both held our breath and stood unmoving. Behind the thin wall of the hut beside us, an infant was crying. Its wailing anguish grew in pitch, so loud that it must have woken everyone within the hut and also those in surrounding buildings. We did not move, and the crying continued, rising in pitch. After what seemed an age, a female voice muttered something and the child’s weeping subsided to a snivelling grizzle as the woman cooed and sang to it. The singing continued for some time, the voice beautiful and at odds with the darkness and the horrific shapes of the dead that lined the path to the south.