BooksBarbecue
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

“How so? Listen to them. They want our blood, and they will have it. Still,” I said, forcing a thin smile, “at least we got our revenge.” The thought of it now did little to lift my spirits. The moment of elation at seeing Scomric’s corpse had been replaced by sorrow. There was so much I would never do, so many books I would never have the chance to read. The Treasure of Life had driven Scomric mad and called to Leofstan like a siren’s song over the waves of the North Sea, and now I would not be able to unravel its mysteries. I would never again see my friends or kin. After striving to find Aelfwyn for the last year, I would not lay eyes on her again, but I could draw some comfort in knowing she was safe.

“Before we fight,” said Runolf, with a smile, “let us talk to them.” He was infuriatingly calm now, as if by slaying Chlotar he had found inner peace and feared nothing. But then again, had Runolf ever truly been afraid of anything?

“They will never allow us to speak,” I said. “They will kill us instantly.” Perhaps a quick death was all we could hope for now.

“Anything is possible,” Runolf said again and, grinning at me, he raised Ljósberari’s head and pushed the madman’s dead face into the shattered gap between the doors. “Stand back from the doors!” Runolf bellowed, his voice loud enough to cut through the howls of the crowd and the roaring crackle of the flames that had now spread to the main hall, where they ran hungrily along the beams and rafters.

The axe blows on the doors halted. Shouts and screams echoed in the night as the people saw the face of their master. In a few heartbeats, the crowd’s wailing subsided, replaced by a hushed sigh of muttering. Runolf looked at me.

“Ready?” he mouthed.

“No,” I replied, in barely a whisper, but I raised my sword and clutched the seax in my left hand.

“Good,” Runolf said, and kicked the beam away from the doors and dragged them open.

I expected the throng outside to rush at us, but they had fallen back from the entrance and Runolf, holding Ljósberari’s head high, his great axe dripping with gore low at his side, stepped out into the dawn gloom.

Taking in great lungfuls of the cool fresh air, I followed him. Smoke billowed out of the doors behind us. The air inside the hall would soon be too thick to breathe. Before us stood dozens of people. Pale faces glowered at us, their eyes glimmering in the light of the flames that had begun to fill the hall. I scanned those gathered there, quickly calculating the odds against us. They were not good.