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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

“Well,” said Runolf, not bothering to whisper any longer, “we came for vengeance. Let us get what we came for before we are killed.”

I watched as lights spilled from open doors, and figures began to tumble into the pre-dawn dark. Runolf was right. I could see no way that we might escape this place, but I would avenge Leofstan and all those others who hung from stakes along the river and path. I would exact vengeance for Ingvar and Os, and all the nameless men and women the madman had tortured and killed.

“Let’s find those whoresons,” I said, turning to heave open the doors. “They owe us more blood-price than they can ever pay.”

The scent of incense and burning whale oil was strong as we slipped into the flickering flame light within. Hurriedly, seeing people streaming out of their houses now and running towards the hall, I shouldered the doors shut. Runolf picked up a stout beam from where it leaned against the wall. Dropping it into place, he barred the doors.

“That will hold them for a while,” he said.

Together, we turned our back on the doors and the angry people outside, and strode into Ljósberari’s lair.

Fifty-Six

Candlelight glimmered at the far end of the hall, illuminating empty benches and boards. Just as earlier that day, the hall was devoid of Ljósberari’s followers. The lord of a hall kept his hearth-warriors close, always wary of an attack from his adversaries. But Scomric was no lord and there were no figures sleeping on the floor here. Perhaps Scomric did not fear any earthly enemy, or maybe he wished to maintain his mystery, keeping himself separate from those ignorant fools who followed him so blindly. Whatever the reason, there were no warriors in our path.

The noise from outside was rising in pitch as men, women and children shouted in the night.

“We don’t have much time,” said Runolf, hefting his axe and hurrying forward as the people began to hammer on the doors behind us.

Clutching my sword tightly, I followed the axeman as he passed the cold hearth. I glanced down at the dark stain in the rushes where Leofstan had died. My stomach clenched and I shuddered as I recalled his eyes, the light dimming as I watched on, unable to prevent his death or to mete out vengeance for his killing. I turned my head away, ashamed and sickened at the memory. The clamour outside was building and I vowed that, no matter what happened to me, Scomric would pay.