BooksBarbecue
Back A Night of Flames Save as PDF
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

“Not if I kill you first,” Chlotar said. He filled the doorway. He must have been awake for some time for he had donned full battle-harness, no doubt stolen from some of Ljósberari’s victims. He wore a great helm. Iron covered his skull, encircling his eyes and protruding down to protect his nose. His body was encased in a well-fitting byrnie, its links of iron burnished so that they gleamed in the flickering lamp light. In his left hand he held a shield that looked new, the hide that was stretched over its boards was unblemished and stained a deep wine-red. In his right hand he brandished his fine sword.

Despite being unarmoured, wearing only a thin linen robe and bearing no shield or helm, I felt no dread. I sprang to meet the Frank, holding my sword ready to parry and watching Chlotar’s body for a warning of his intention. Even in my rage-filled state, I had not forgotten Gwawrddur’s lessons. But I did not manage to close the distance with my opponent. After a single step, Runolf grabbed my robe and, with his prodigious strength, pulled me back, sending me sprawling to the rush-covered floor.

I sprang up, snarling like a wolf, furious at his intervention.

“The Frank is mine,” he shouted. “Find Ljósberari.”

He bounded forward, swiping his great axe at Chlotar, who was barely able to block the cut with his shield. The Frank had held me back while Leofstan breathed his last and I longed to throw myself at him, to plunge my blade into his flesh. I watched as Runolf retreated, stepping out of the reach of Chlotar’s blade as the Frankish warrior counter-attacked. I knew the Norse axeman’s skill well, and I could see that he was deliberately feigning weakness, allowing himself to be pushed back by Chlotar’s determined attack. He was drawing Chlotar away from the door, freeing it for me.

Shaking my head to rid it of some of the battle-madness that had engulfed me, I ran past the battling warriors. Runolf scythed a blow at Chlotar’s legs, but the Frank was fast and agile. He stepped back and flicked out with his sword’s blade. Blood bloomed on Runolf’s arm and I hesitated to leave him.

“Go!” shouted Runolf, noticing me tarrying by the door. Chlotar’s blow had not slowed him, and he stormed forward, sending a flurry of strikes at the Frank, who soaked them up with a clatter on his shield. The red hide there was now scored and cut from the axe’s sharp blade.

I took in a deep breath. Outside the hall, the crowd was growing, their shouts and yells raucous, the booming crash of something being rammed into the doors echoing like thunder in the hall’s cavernous interior. The timber was beginning to splinter. They would be inside the hall soon, and then our chance for revenge would be lost.