He caught the rope over the beam and pulled until it drew taut, the coarse hemp biting into his palms. Easily, he secured the knot about the iron nail on the post, then stepped back, breathing hard. Sweat blurred his single vision and ran down his temples, slipping beneath the collar of his shirt and dampening the linen at his throat.
But Brand knew that the physical exertion, however savage, could alter the turmoil within him.
He stood in the dim coolness of the stable and closed his eyes for one brief instant, determined to forget the dream that had seized him the night before.
But memory would not be denied.
He had returned again to that night, to that cursed shore. Timber cracked and collapsed in roaring flames, men screaming, smoke winding up and consuming the sky. He hurried up the ladder, pulling his broken leg along, the mast collapsing before them—
Suddenly, Stephen's lifeless body dropping on the floor—
Brand opened his eyes sharply.
