The Invaders

by John Flanagan

  “Thanks for this,” Barat said, and Hal nodded.

  “We’ll bring more when we come back. Look for us in two days’ time.”

  Barat shook his hand, then turned away, calling over his shoulder.

  “Come on, lads. You too, Lydia. Let’s get back to camp.”

  But Lydia hesitated awkwardly, not moving toward the skiffs. Barat turned, puzzled and a little annoyed.

  “Lydia?” he said. “Come on.”

  Lydia looked down, one foot tracing small circles in the sand of the beach.

  “I think… I’ll stay with the Heron,” she said, then looked quickly at Hal. “If that’s all right with you?”

  Hal spread his hands in a surprised gesture. “That’s fine as far as I’m concerned.”

  Stig grinned widely. “Me too.”

  Barat gave him a sour look, then gestured peremptorily toward the two skiffs.

  “Don’t be silly, Lydia. These aren’t your people. Come with us. Now.”

  She raised her eyes. There was a determined light in them and she shook her head once.

  “No,” she said. “I’ll stay with the Skandians.”

  Barat let out a snort that was half anger, half frustration.

  “Fine,” he said. “Forget your friends if that’s what you choose. Stay with these foreigners.”

  “Yes. I think I will,” Lydia told him, with growing conviction in her voice, and he turned away, unwilling to argue the point further. He stalked down the beach to the two skiffs, his back straight, never looking at her as he launched one of the boats and began rowing away. His two companions hastily piled into the second boat and followed.

  Stig grinned at Lydia. “Good choice,” he said.

  But she turned away and said nothing further.

  chapter twenty - two

  Lydia maintained her silence for most of the trip north to Shelter Bay.

  She stood alone behind the ship’s figurehead, staring out at the water as it rushed past, never flinching at the continual sheets of spray that flew up from the bow.

  “She’ll be drenched,” Stig said as he stood by Hal on the steering platform. “I’ll fetch her a blanket.” He started to move away but Hal stopped him.

  “Leave her be,” Hal said quietly.

  Stig hesitated. He wanted to talk to her. But Hal shook his head and Stig finally decided his skirl was right.

  Unlike their smooth run down the coast, it wasn’t an easy night. The wind veered into the northwest and varied in intensity, so that the crew were at work continually, tacking and adjusting the sails. Lydia, seeing she would be in the way if she remained in the bow, moved to a spot on the port rowing benches, near the stern. She watched as the Heron went from one tack to another, noticing how much closer to the wind she could sail than the square-rigged ships that were the norm in this part of the world. But, after a few changes in tack, she lost interest and resumed staring out to sea.

  After four hours, the wind decided to settle on one direction and strength, and the boys took the opportunity to rest on the rowing benches. Several of them went to sleep immediately. Hal smiled to himself. They were seasoned sailors now, he thought, ready to snatch a few minutes’ sleep whenever the opportunity arose. He turned the tiller over to Stig and looked around for a spot to rest. Lydia was sitting in his usual place. Shrugging, he stepped down and sat beside her.

  She glanced up and nodded.

  “Sorry about your grandfather,” he said awkwardly. He’d cautioned Stig against bothering her earlier. He sensed that she wasn’t in any mood for Stig’s inevitably unsubtle attempts to win her favor. But he felt pity for her, alone among strangers, and grieving for the loss of her grandfather.

  She gave him a wan smile.

  “Thanks,” she said. “He was a good man. But he should never have tried to fight them. He was too old.”

  Hal considered this for a few moments. “Maybe he wouldn’t have been happy to simply let them walk all over him. Maybe he knew he was too old to fight them, but wasn’t willing to simply stand aside and let them have their way.”

  “Probably. That’d be just like him,” she said. There was a note of subdued pride and amusement in her voice as she thought of the old man. Then she glanced up at the big, triangular sail, swelling in a hard curve on the port tack. “This is an unusual ship.”

  He smiled, unable to resist the temptation to brag. “I designed and built her,” he said. “She’s my pride and joy.”

  Lydia looked at him with new respect. The sight of such a young ship’s captain had initially surprised her. Now she began to understand how he had reached that position at such an early age.

  “What’s that big contraption in the bow?” she asked. “The one covered in canvas? Is it a hoist of some sort?”

  He shook his head. “It’s a weapon. We call it the Mangler,” he said. “And it might just be the key to an attack on the pirates.”

  She looked up at that, expecting him to say more. But he shook his head. While he had been steering, an idea had been slowly forming in his mind. It came a piece at a time and, at the moment, was a set of unrelated concepts. He needed time to sit down and put them into order to turn them into a cohesive plan.

  “I’ll tell you later,” he said. Then, to change the subject, he added, “Tell me about Barat. He seems a little prickly.”

  She snorted derisively. “That’s an understatement. Barat is too full of himself for my taste. He’s a good warrior—a very good warrior, as Jonas said. And he’s a good battle commander. But that’s where it ends. As a day-to-day leader, he’s too impulsive and too disinclined to look after details.” She paused. “And he takes too much for granted.”

  Hal sensed from the tone of her voice that this last statement was more personal than a general assessment of Barat.

  “By which I assume you mean he takes you for granted?” he asked.

  “He thinks he owns me,” she said. “And he tells everyone that we’re going to be married when we’re older.” She made an angry gesture. “It never occurs to him that I might like to have a say in that! That’s why I didn’t want to go back to the camp with him. I hope you didn’t mind.”

  Hal shook his head. “You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you choose,” he said. “The boys like you.”

  “That’s nice to know,” she said. She was a little embarrassed by his statement and not sure how to respond. She searched for something to say and, looking up, noticed Stig’s tall figure at the tiller.

  “How long have you known Stig?” she asked, looking to change the subject.

  Oho! So that’s the way the wind is blowing, Hal thought. He looked at Stig in his turn. Outlined against the night sky, the first mate cut quite a heroic figure.

  “Oh, we’ve been friends for years.” There was another pause, then he said, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I might get some rest.”

  He moved away a few meters and settled down, pulling a blanket round him. He wondered why her question had caused him a vague sense of disappointment.

  Dawn was breaking by the time they reached Shelter Bay. The dazzling sun was low to the hills and right in their eyes. That, and the fact that there was a steep sea running and a tricky crosswind, convinced Hal that they should row the Heron into the bay. They dropped the sail a hundred meters offshore. The boys manned their oars as he guided her through the narrow entrance into the calmer waters inside. Closer in, the tall surrounding hills blocked the first light of the sun and the bay was still in semidarkness.

  There is an inevitable relaxation that comes at the end of any trip, when home, even a temporary one like their camp, comes into sight. Now they were in safe and familiar waters, Hal and the other boys relaxed, thinking of the warm and comfortable beds that awaited them in the tent. As a result, their vigilance was reduced, and none of them noticed the dark shape moored inside the southern headland of the bay as they passed it. It was only when the shape began to move that Hal sensed its presence.

  He swun
g round. There was a large ship fifty meters astern of them, moving out from its place of concealment to block any possible escape from the bay. He heard the cries of alarm from the other boys as they noticed the ship. Caught by surprise, the Herons stopped rowing. Now Hal could hear the faint splashes of the oars from the ship behind them as she began to overtake them.

  “It’s Wolfwind,” Thorn said quietly.

  Hal’s shoulders slumped in despair. After all they had gone through, after finding the Raven and having a chance to recapture the Andomal, it was over. They’d be taken back to Hallasholm in disgrace. And their reception would be even more icy than before, as they’d defied the Oberjarl and disobeyed his orders.

  And I’ll lose the Heron, he thought bitterly. Erak had already said he planned to confiscate the ship. Now, after Hal had absconded with it, he was sure to carry out his threat. Once the Heron was gone, the Heron brotherband was finished, he knew. While they had the ship, they had hope. Now that was gone.

  Wolfwind moved up to within ten meters of their stern, then her oarsmen backed water, holding station on the drifting Heron. This close, Hal could recognize Svengal in the bow of the ship, standing on the railing, holding on to the forestay for balance.

  “Hal!” he called across the intervening distance. “Keep rowing. Take her in to the beach near your camp.”

  Hal felt movement beside him. Stig had leapt up from his rowing bench.

  “We can outrun them!” he said. But Hal shook his head bitterly.

  “Not under oars. They’re faster than us. And the minute we try to raise the sail, they’ll be alongside us.”

  “Then we’ll fight them!” Stig said angrily.

  Thorn rumbled a warning. The Herons were badly outnumbered, and Wolfwind’s crew were seasoned warriors. But again, Hal refused.

  “I’m not fighting my countrymen,” he said simply. “Let’s face it. It’s over.”

  He looked down at the crew, waiting on their rowing benches for his orders. At the sternmost bench, Lydia watched him, a confused expression on her face. The Herons were Skandians, she knew. And the ship behind them was a Skandian wolfship. She wondered what the problem could be.

  Before she could approach him, Hal gestured to the boys on the rowing benches.

  “Oars,” he ordered quietly. “Let’s take her in and face the music.”

  Stig looked at him, hesitated, then shook his head in frustration. He leapt down and took his place on the rowing bench.

  “Oars!” he repeated the order. “Give way!”

  The oars dipped into the calm water of the bay, creating two lines of rippling circles as they broke the surface.

  “Stroke,” Stig ordered, and the Heron began to glide through the water, her bow wave chuckling along the side of the hull. At least you can chuckle, Hal thought miserably. A few meters from the sand, he ordered the rowers to cease and guided the ship in toward the beach. Distracted and dejected as he was, he nearly forgot to raise the fin. Fortunately, Thorn remembered it in time and heaved it up out of the keel box. The bow grated on the sand and Heron rode a few meters up onto dry land.

  Stefan tossed the beach anchor over the bow, then dropped over the side after it. As he jogged up the beach to set it in the sand, there was a grinding noise as Wolfwind ran her prow aground alongside them. One of her crew mirrored Stefan’s actions.

  Hal looked sadly round his little ship. This would be the last time he commanded her, he knew, and he couldn’t bring himself to leave her. He was aware that the other boys were waiting on his lead and he gestured toward the bow.

  “All ashore,” he said. They turned and made their way forward, a disconsolate group. Lydia, still puzzled, fell into step beside Stig.

  “What’s happening?” she asked him. He glanced at her.

  “We’re runaways,” he said. “They’ve come to take us back.”

  She looked at him, her eyes wide. There was nothing she could say to that. Although as she thought about it, she realized that this would mean that her countrymen were now on their own against the pirates. There were only nine in the Heron’s crew, and eight of them were boys. But somehow, they had given her hope. Their optimism, their confidence in Hal and his ability to come up with a plan of action had given her belief. Now that was gone. Dejected, she followed the others to the bow.

  Hal remained on the steering platform. He looped the restraining cord round the tiller, to stop it banging back and forth with the movement of the water. Then he remained, one hand on the smooth wood, now inanimate as the ship was beached and still.

  Thorn dropped a hand on his shoulder.

  “Come on,” he said gently. “We might as well find out the worst.”

  They walked the length of the ship, then climbed over the bow. The other members of the crew were waiting in a dejected group. A dozen of Wolfwind’s crew stood in a semicircle around them. As Hal dropped to the wet sand of the beach, Svengal strode forward, a huge grin on his face.

  “At last!” he said. “Gorlog’s bad breath, Hal, you’ve led us on a merry chase. Found your camp here a couple of days ago, but there was no sign of Heron, so we went looking for you. I thought we sighted you south of here the other evening, but you slipped away. So we came back here to wait. And here you are!”

  He stepped forward and engulfed the surprised boy in a huge bear hug, then held him at arm’s length, studying him.

  “Thank the gods you’re all safe. We’ve been worried sick about you. Erak would have skinned me alive if you’d come to any harm.”

  “I suppose he wants us in one piece when you take us back,” Stefan said bitterly.

  “Take you back? We’re not here to take you back. Erak sent us to help you!” he said.

  Slowly, Hal felt hope dawning in his heart. “You want to help us?”

  Svengal turned to his crew. “They thought we’d come all this way to drag them back to Hallasholm!” He roared with laughter. His men joined in and he looked back at Hal.

  “Who’d want a scruffy lot like you back again? No, Erak figured you had a head start on us, so you’d have a better chance of finding that murdering swine Zavac. So he sent us after you to give you a hand. After all, those Magyarans have you seriously outnumbered.”

  Svengal seemed to notice Thorn for the first time and grinned cheerfully at him. “Hello, Thorn. Nice sheepskin. What happened to the old one? Did it finally fall apart? It was more holes than sheepskin anyway.”

  “I see you still talk too much, Svengal,” Thorn replied. A few of the Wolfwind crew murmured agreement. Svengal was unabashed, however.

  “I never was the strong, silent type.”

  Hal shook his head as he considered this unexpected turn of events. He wondered if he would ever understand the workings of the Oberjarl’s mind. When they had sighted Wolfwind the previous night, he had instantly assumed that the ship had been sent to capture them and take them back to Hallasholm in disgrace. Now Svengal was telling him that he and his crew were here to help. Things were moving too fast, he thought.

  “As a matter of fact,” Thorn was saying, “we have found Zavac. He’s a day’s sail down the coast, holed up in a fortified town.” A murmur of interest ran through Wolfwind’s crew, and a satisfied smile spread across Svengal’s face when he heard the news.

  “Wonderful,” he said quietly. “Simply wonderful. So what’s our plan of action?”

  “We’re still working on that,” Thorn told him. “But Hal will come up with something suitably brilliant. He usually does. Then we can go and winkle Zavac out of his rat hole.”

  “What fun,” Svengal said. His men gave an assenting growl. Zavac had murdered two of their friends when he stole the Andomal. Wolfwind’s crew were eager to avenge them.

  Svengal clapped Thorn on the shoulder. “Nice to be working with you again, Thorn,” he said. “It’ll be just like old times.”

  Lydia looked at the fierce northmen and felt her spirits rising. Skandians were renowned fighters, she knew. They were still
outnumbered by the Magyarans, but the odds were getting better all the time. And since everyone seemed convinced that Hal would come up with a plan to balance them even further, who was she to disagree?

  chapter twenty - three

  The following morning, they broke camp and the two ships set out in company to sail down the coast to Limmat.

  It was mid-afternoon when they reached their destination. There was no longer a plume of smoke rising above the town. Apparently, the pirates had gotten the fires under control. Or perhaps they had left the townspeople to look after them.

  As Heron and Wolfwind headed for the beach, they saw two men waving. Barat had detailed them to wait for the Heron’s return and guide them through the swamps to his camp. Svengal left ten of his men behind on the beach to keep watch on the two ships. The rest of Wolfwind’s crew and the Herons loaded up with sacks of supplies and trudged through thigh-deep mud and water behind their guides, grumbling and complaining about the sand flies and mosquitoes, which seemed to swarm in the marshes by the thousands.

  They followed a seemingly aimless path until they came to a larger-than-usual sand island. The sun was almost setting and they could see the glow of several fires as they approached.

  Barat had watched them threading their way through the marsh for the last fifty meters or so and he made his way down to the beach to greet them as they squelched their way out of the muddy water. He gave a start as he saw how their numbers had increased. Eight boys and an older man had left two days before. Now they were back, with a further twenty Skandians.

  “Who are these?” he asked Hal.

  “Reinforcements. They’re going to help us with the attack. And those sacks they’re carrying are all full of food.”

  Barat’s suspicious expression lightened considerably.

  “Glad to see you,” he said. But the direction of his gaze left them in no doubt that it was the food he was most glad to see. He noticed Lydia, who was standing close by Hal and Stig, and his expression grew cool.

  “Hullo, Lydia.”

  She nodded a greeting. “Hi, Barat. Nice place you’ve got here.”