The Invaders

by John Flanagan

  Would Stig? If Hal was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he doubted it.

  While he pondered the problem, he strode along the water’s edge, looking for a piece of driftwood that he and Jesper could use as a raft. There was one large tree trunk that looked suitable. It was gray and dried with salt and still had a tangle of dead, bare branches at one end. Where three of them grew close together, they had collected a mass of lighter branches and dried weed among them. It looked like an outlandish bird’s nest, Hal thought.

  Or a bundle of kindling, he thought idly, as he walked back to fetch Ingvar and some of the others to help him drag the log into the water so they could float it to where the skiff would be launched. The log was half buried in the sand and it would be beyond even Ingvar’s strength to move it on his own.

  Hal stopped in mid-stride. The log did look like kindling, he thought. He headed back down the beach with a new spring in his step.

  He found Jesper and Stig by the cook fire, drinking coffee with Thorn. The old warrior looked up as he approached.

  “How did the reconnaissance go?”

  Hal eyed him dubiously, wondering if Stig and Jesper had outlined the problem with his plan. He decided that they hadn’t. Thorn’s expression was ingenuous.

  “Fine,” he said. “Jesper’s confident he can pull it off. We had one small problem, but I’ve got it solved.”

  Stig and Jesper both pricked up their ears at that, looking at him curiously.

  “There’s a big log down the beach that will suit us,” he said. “And it has a whole lot of lighter material tangled up in its branches. I’m thinking that if I take another small jar of oil, and a flint and steel, wrapped in a watertight pack, I could set fire to it once we’re offshore. You’ll see the smoke, Stig. Then you can come and collect us.”

  Stig nodded at the idea. He was impressed. “Sounds like it will work,” he said. “I knew you’d come up with something.”

  Thorn nodded as well. “Good idea,” he said. “If you mix a little damp seaweed in once it gets burning, you’ll send up plenty of smoke. Should be visible for miles.”

  They all looked at Jesper, to see if he agreed. The former thief was shaking his head as he looked at Hal.

  “I thought it was bad enough when you wanted to go drifting off to Teutlandt,” he said. “Now you want to burn our raft out from under us.”

  Hal opened his mouth to protest, then realized that it was a fair assessment of the situation.

  “Stig will find us before it gets to that,” he said reassuringly and Stig made suitably concurring noises. Jesper glared at Hal, then at Stig.

  “You’d better,” he said. “Or I’m coming back from my watery grave to haunt you.”

  chapter twenty - six

  I’ll be glad to be rid of the pair of you,” said Thorn. “And that blasted log.”

  He and Hal were sitting side by side in the middle seat of the skiff, each taking an oar. With the added drag of the large log behind the little boat, Hal had decided to help his friend with the rowing on the outward journey.

  The previous night, Hal had transported the first group of Barat’s men to a point on the bay’s shore well to the east of Limmat. Tonight, while he and Jesper were setting the oil bladder in place, Stig would take the second group on the same trip. Then he would pick up Hal and Jesper on the return trip.

  Hopefully.

  Thorn was rowing easily and Hal glanced down with a certain proprietorial interest at Thorn’s right arm.

  “How’s the hook performing?” he asked. “Is it taking the strain all right?”

  Thorn held up the device and studied it.

  “It’s fine,” he said. “Mind you, I had to tighten the restraining straps as far as I could so it wouldn’t pull off of my arm. I’ll need to loosen them once you’re gone.”

  Hal nodded. On the return journey, with only Thorn in the boat, and without the extra drag of the log towing behind, the rowing would be a lot easier. He glanced toward the shore, some three hundred meters away. The lights that marked the towers at the harbor mouth were slowly creeping past.

  “Sure you don’t want me to wait out here and pick you up?” Thorn asked. He was worried about the plan that had Hal and Jesper drifting out to sea for a rendezvous with Stig in the Heron. There were too many things that could go wrong. But Hal shook his head, smiling at the older man’s concern. They’d already discussed this several times.

  “It’ll be getting light by the time we’re done,” he said. “There’s too much risk you’ll be spotted. Lookouts tend to be on their toes at first light.”

  Thorn shrugged. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “I know you will. And thank you. But if they see you, they might look more carefully and see us. Then they’ll start wondering what we’ve been up to and they might check the beach outside the gate. If they do that, they’ll spot the oil bladder and the game’s up.”

  “I’m just not happy with the idea of you just drifting away on the tide,” Thorn said.

  Jesper, sitting in the stern, leaned forward. “I’m with you there, Thorn. But nobody listens to me.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Hal said, with more conviction than he felt.

  “If you say so,” Thorn said.

  Hal nodded. “I do.”

  Jesper rolled his eyes. “I don’t.”

  Hal decided to ignore him. He glanced over the side of the boat and saw a few small branches drifting past on the ingoing tide. He glanced to shore again and saw that they had come past the harbor mouth.

  “This should do it,” he said. “Let’s get the log alongside.”

  The driftwood log had been towing five meters behind the boat on the end of a stout hemp line. He and Jesper hauled it in now until it was floating beside the skiff, bumping occasionally against the hull.

  “Take it easy,” Thorn warned them. “If we wreck the boat, I’ll have to join you on the log.”

  Hal grinned at him. “And we’d love to have you along.”

  Thorn gestured over the side. “Get a move on. Jesper, have you reversed your vest?”

  Both the boys wore sheepskin vests, as did most of the Heron’s crew. Jesper usually wore his with the fleece side outermost, as the oily wool provided a good waterproof shield against spray and rain. Hal wore his with the fleece inside, for the extra warmth it gave.

  Jesper took his off now, turned it inside out and re-donned it. “What’s the point of this again?”

  “The air pockets in the fleece will trap water, and your body heat will gradually warm it,” Thorn explained. “It’ll keep you more comfortable in the sea, which is going to be cold.”

  “How kind of you to point that out,” Jesper muttered.

  Thorn shrugged. “Every little bit helps.”

  Hal turned so that his legs were over the side. Then, as Thorn leaned to balance his weight, he slipped over into the dark water. The shock of the cold sea hitting him nearly took his breath away. He refrained from any exclamation, however, as he sensed that Jesper was probably on the edge of refusing to leave the boat. He took hold of the log and pulled himself to it. He carried a length of rope, which he tied to a protruding branch, passing the free end back to Jesper.

  “Tie yourself on,” he said. “Then get in the water.”

  Dubiously, Jesper fastened the rope around his upper body, under his armpits. Then he reached over and dipped a hand in the water.

  “It’s cold,” he complained to Thorn.

  The old sea wolf grinned. “What a surprise. Now, get going.”

  With one last, reluctant look at the seat in the stern of the boat, Jesper allowed himself to slip over the side into the water. His head went under and he splashed back to the surface, gasping with the sudden cold and floundering wildly in the water.

  “Shut up!” Hal whispered fiercely, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him to the log. “They’ll hear you ashore!”

  Jesper gripped the log with the fierceness of utter ter
ror. The idea of being afloat in deep water was completely alien. Normally, that would have been enough to terrify him. But the unexpected cold added to the fear. He looked back at Thorn.

  “How long before the water in the fleece gets warm?” he asked pitifully.

  “Warm is a relative term,” Thorn said with a shrug. “It’ll actually just be less cold. Should take a few minutes.”

  “I’ll be dead by then!” Jesper complained.

  “Shut up,” Hal said unsympathetically. He reached back to the boat and Thorn passed him the waterproof package containing a small jar of oil and a flint and steel. The pig’s bladder, filled with oil, was already tied securely to the log. Hal fastened the smaller bundle to a branch, tested the knot, then turned and nodded to Thorn.

  “Shove us off,” he said. “Time we were on our way.”

  Thorn untied the line that held the log alongside the boat, placed an oar against it and shoved. The log moved slowly away from the boat. Then, as the tide took hold of the log, it began to drift sluggishly toward the shore.

  “Good luck,” Thorn called softly. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Shut up,” Hal called back. His voice sounded strained, as if talking was an effort. Chattering teeth would do that to a voice, Thorn thought. Then he heard Hal call again. “Thanks.”

  He nodded toward the dim shape, already five meters away, set his oars and turned the boat for home. Without the weight of the two extra passengers, and the drag of the log behind it, the boat felt light and easy to row. But somehow, he found he preferred the way it had felt when Hal and Jesper were safely on board with him.

  As the tide took them toward the shore, Hal heaved himself up to get his bearings. They were drifting slightly to the left, he thought.

  Instinctively, Jesper tried to haul himself up onto the log, to be clear of the water. Hal put a hand on his shoulder to restrain him.

  “Stay down out of the wind,” he said. “You’ll be warmer that way.”

  “Perlins and Gertz!” Jesper replied, invoking the Skandian demigods of snow and ice. “It’s freezing.” But he lowered himself back into the water so that only his head was above the surface and he found that Hal was right. After a few minutes, he realized that Thorn had been right too. The water trapped close to his body was slowly becoming warmer, forming a barrier between him and the icy seawater.

  That was fine as far as his upper body was concerned. But his legs, clad only in thick woolen leggings, were painfully cold.

  “My legs are numb,” he complained.

  Hal checked his bearings again. “Then let’s warm them up. We’re going to have to swim the log a little to the right. The tide is setting us toward the harbor, not the beach. Grab hold of the log and we’ll swim her right.”

  “I’ve already got hold of it,” Jesper told him. “What makes you think I’d be letting go?”

  Hal grinned at him. His own teeth were chattering and he knew the exercise of guiding the log would do them both good.

  “All right. You’ve seen how a frog kicks? Do the same thing. Don’t let your feet break the surface or we’ll make too much noise. But kick like a frog and let’s warm up a little.”

  Together, they began to scissor-kick their legs. At first, Jesper was awkward and uncoordinated with the unfamiliar action. But he gradually found his rhythm and they kicked constantly, forcing the log to the right. They made slow progress, but when Hal checked again after ten minutes, they had moved a considerable distance across the tide. He estimated distances and angles.

  “A few more minutes’ kicking,” he said, “and we’re there.”

  He was exhausted and freezing, but he could feel the blood flowing through his legs, fighting against the cold embrace of the sea. He realized he hadn’t allowed for the debilitating effect of the cold. Another small detail forgotten, he thought wryly.

  “Whatever you say,” Jesper replied. His voice was tight. The cold had stiffened his lips and mouth.

  “Come on!” Hal urged him. “Double time!”

  They kicked harder than ever, all the time ensuring that they didn’t break the surface and make noise, or a giveaway splash of white water. After a few minutes, they became aware of the sound of the gentle ripple of waves on the beach, only a few meters away. Then the log was bumping and dragging over the sandy bottom, eventually coming to rest in the shallows.

  They lay for a few moments, resting. Both their hearts were racing as they waited for a cry of alarm from the palisade, indicating that their presence had been discovered. If that happened, Hal thought, they were finished. They had no way of escape, other than to drift out with the log on the outgoing tide.

  Maybe I should have thought of that too, he told himself. But as more minutes passed and there was no sign that they had been discovered, he began to relax. Jesper stirred beside him. Hal noticed with interest that his friend didn’t heave himself up to look over the top of the log. He slid sideways so that he could peer through the tangle of branches at one end, avoiding exposing his face to any possible watchers on the palisade.

  He stayed watching for some time, then wriggled back to place his mouth close to Hal’s ear.

  “There’s a guard on patrol. Passes every three minutes or so. He looks totally bored with what he’s doing, hardly ever bothers to look out to sea.”

  “Do you think he’s noticed the log?” Hal asked.

  Jesper shrugged. “Hard to say. If he has, he doesn’t seem too concerned. I’ll wait till he passes again and get moving.”

  Hal nodded. He reached up and untied the cord securing the oil bladder, lifting it carefully down, avoiding snagging it on any of the sharp, broken-off stumps of branches. As he did so, Jesper reached inside his sodden vest to an inner pocket. He produced a small jar and began to rub a dark-colored substance on his face, forming an irregular pattern of stripes and swirls.

  “What’s that?” Hal asked curiously.

  “Grease and ash. It breaks up the shape of the face so nobody sees a regular, white oval shape. Big giveaway if you’re sneaking up on someone in the dark,” Jesper told him.

  Hal nodded, impressed by this piece of information about the thief’s trade, noting it for future reference. You never knew when you might want to sneak up on someone in the dark, he thought.

  “You really do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

  Jesper, finished with his face painting, grinned at him. His teeth were remarkably white in the dark mask.

  “I’d better,” he said, taking hold of the oil bladder. “Otherwise we’ll both be in the soup.”

  He paused, then said with some feeling, “Mind you, right now, being in the soup might be quite a pleasant experience.”

  He slid to the end of the log, staying prone as he waited for the patrolling sentry to pass. Then he raised a hand to Hal and slid away from the log, staying low to the ground on his elbows and knees, dragging the oil bladder behind him.

  Hal, having learned from Jesper’s example, resisted the temptation to look over the top of the log. Instead, he slid belly down to the end, where the branches would screen him, and peered out after the former thief.

  There was no sign of him.

  “He really does know what he’s doing,” Hal said to himself.

  chapter twenty - seven

  Stig counted silently as the Limmatan fighters filed past him to board the Heron. As the last one climbed over the gunwale, he turned to Jonas.

  “I counted twenty-four,” Stig said, a note of accusation in his voice. They had expected to carry twenty men on each trip. With any more, the Heron would be seriously overloaded. But Jonas nodded.

  “We’ve had four more men make their way out of the town over the past few days. Barat wanted them along. He said the more men we had, the better chance we’d stand.”

  Stig grunted a grudging acknowledgment. It made sense. But if he’d known about it sooner, he might have been able to compensate by unloading some of the ballast stones the Heron carried below her decks.
Now there wasn’t time to do that.

  “I don’t suppose anybody thought it might be a good idea to let us know?”

  Jonas spread his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry, Stig. It didn’t occur to me that it’d make any difference.”

  Stig pursed his lips. There was no sense in being annoyed with Jonas. He was a farmer and he had no knowledge of ships. Barat, of course, was another matter entirely. He was a trader and had been around ships all his life. His family even owned several.

  “Well, I’ll have to lighten the ship as much as possible,” Stig said. “And there’s only one way I can think of doing it.” He called up to the ship, floating a few meters off the beach. “Stefan! Edvin! Come ashore!”

  The two crew members’ faces appeared over the ship’s side, peering down at him curiously.

  “What’s the problem?” Stefan asked, and Stig made a peremptory gesture with his thumb for them to climb down.

  “We’re overloaded. You’ll have to stay behind.”

  “But who’s going to lower and raise the sail?” Edvin asked. As he said it, Ulf and Wulf joined their shipmates at the railing.

  “The twins will have to do it,” Stig replied. He’d decided on this because the twins were the stronger of the four crew on board. One of them alone should be able to raise and lower the sail—or he could get help from the passengers if necessary. After all, it was only a matter of hauling on a rope.

  “Ulf, you take over raising the sail.”

  “I’m Wulf,” said the twin he’d indicated.

  Stig set his jaw angrily. Then he said, very deliberately, “Then Wulf, you look after raising the sail. Ulf can take care of trimming.”

  “I’m happy to raise the sail if you want me to,” said the twin he now knew as Ulf. Stig took a deep breath. He was beginning to wonder how Hal managed to keep his temper with these two. Then he realized that, quite often, he didn’t.

  “I don’t care who does what, so long as both jobs get done. All right?”

  The twins shrugged. “All right,” they chorused. Then Ulf added, “So you do want me to raise the sail?”