02 The Invaders (15 page)

Greed and an appetite for gold were wonderful motivators, Zavac thought. And he should know. They were what motivated him. He’d taken the
Raven
to sea the previous day, standing by the tiller until a few hours before dawn. Then, deciding that the weather held no unpleasant surprises in the near future, he’d turned in, leaving the helm to his second in command.

He woke hours later, sensing movement in the ship as the rowing crew changed. He rolled out of his sleeping furs and sat upright. Unlike the
Heron
, the
Raven
had a decked-in section running the full length of the ship. Zavac had a small sleeping cabin at the stern, accessed by a sliding hatch close to the steering platform. The headroom was minimal—barely a meter and a half. But it was sheltered and dry and it gave him privacy when he wanted it.

It also gave him an excellent place to store his personal treasures. He sat on the deck and pulled on his sealskin boots and a fur-trimmed leather jacket. His sword lay to one side in its scabbard and he picked it up, preparatory to going on deck. He half stood, crouching in the low headroom, then paused. There was a shelf to one side of the cabin, set on an upward angle to prevent its contents spilling out as the ship rolled. He reached toward it and stroked a chamois sack nestled on it, as he did every time he left the cabin. He felt the hard round shape inside the sack and smiled to himself.

“Oh, Oberjarl Erak, wouldn’t you love to have this back?” he said softly. Then, still smiling, he slid back the hatch and clambered
out onto the deck. Andras, his first mate, greeted him with a nod as he scanned the horizon.

“Any change?” Zavac asked, and his henchman shook his head.

“Wind may have moderated a little,” he said.

Zavac nodded thoughtfully. “That’ll suit us.”

Andras, one hand on the tiller, pointed forward with his free hand.

“
Viper
’s still on station,” he said. Zavac had seen the smaller ship when he first scanned the horizon. It had been the first thing he looked for, in fact. She was half a kilometer away, rising and falling on the waves that continued to sweep in toward them. Like
Raven
, she was under oars, with her sail lowered to the deck, so that she would be less visible to other ships.

Originally named the
Sea Lion
, she had been one of the small Skandian trading fleet that he had captured some months previously. Zavac had ordered his men to burn her with the other trading ships. But a few minutes later, he had rescinded the order. The
Sea Lion
, or
Viper
, as he had renamed her, was a seaworthy ship, with plenty of cargo space for trade goods, and he thought he could put her to good use.

Not that Zavac intended her to carry trade goods. But that cargo space could also be used to conceal fifteen to twenty men, and unlike the
Raven
, the
Viper
looked relatively harmless. Most trading skippers, if they were sensible, would turn and run at the sight of the long, low
Raven
. But the
Viper
was a different matter.

If she appeared to be disabled or sinking, the chances were good that a ship would come to her aid. Once they were alongside, the concealed pirates would pour out of their hiding places
and overwhelm their would-be rescuers. Traders carried relatively small crews, as Zavac knew only too well. And of course the
Raven
, hovering just over the horizon, could swoop in and finish the job.

“No signal from her?” Zavac asked.

Andras shook his head. “Nothing so far. But it’s early yet.”

Zavac grunted. His first mate was right. They had been at sea for less than half a day. Still, he was impatient. They had spent weeks moored in a sheltered creek on the Stormwhite coast—a spot known only to himself and several other Magyaran pirate skippers—and he resented the unproductive time. His men were loyal to him—but only so long as he could provide them with gold and silver and other booty. He knew he had a reputation as a lucky skipper but that could change after a few weeks of cruising without finding any victims. Zavac was superstitious and he half believed that if they didn’t find a ship to prey on today, they would have lean pickings over the next few months.

He glanced down the double line of rowers, watching them lean forward, brace their feet, then heave back. The oars rose and fell on either side of the ship like a bird’s wings, each one leaving a circle of white foam on the water as the ship swept past.

“Do you want to take her?” Andras asked, indicating the tiller. But Zavac shook his head. Most skippers felt an affinity for their ships and enjoyed the sensation of command. But Zavac took no great pleasure in steering his ship. She was a means to an end, a way of getting from point A to point B, nothing more.

Andras scowled. He’d been on the tiller for nearly six hours while Zavac had slept, and the strong current and steep waves of
the cross-sea made it hard work to keep the ship on course. The rowing crew had changed ten minutes ago. They changed every two hours. But he’d had no respite. Andras resented Zavac and he was looking forward to the day when he’d saved enough of his plunder to buy his own ship.

He also felt that Zavac’s disinterest in the
Raven
made him a less-than-expert ship handler. In Andras’s opinion, a captain had to be thoroughly attuned to his ship, to understand her nuances and idiosyncrasies. That way, he would be equipped to get the very best performance out of her. Zavac’s lack of instinctive feel for the ship might cost them dearly one day. So far, he’d been successful because she was very fast, even if she wasn’t handled as well as she might be. But she’d never really been challenged by a ship that might match her speed, Andras knew.

“
Viper
’s signaling!”

The lookout’s call snapped Andras’s mind back to the matter at hand. Both he and Zavac craned to see along the length of
Raven
’s hull. The view forward was relatively unrestricted with the sail stowed. They saw a flash of light from the stern of the
Viper
as one of the crew there used a mirror to flash the sun’s rays toward the
Raven
.

“Answer them,” Zavac snapped.

The lookout at the bow took a polished piece of metal and, angling it to the sun, sent a series of random flashes back to the
Viper
. There was no need for a message at this stage. The simple act of flashing the light at the other ship would let the
Viper
’s skipper know they were watching, waiting for the other ship to communicate using the simple code Zavac had devised.

There was a solitary flash from the other ship’s stern. Then a long pause, then another single flash.

One. One ship. It could only be a ship. There was nothing else out here for the
Viper
to signal about.

“Answer!” Zavac ordered again. The lookout sent another random series of flashes across the intervening ocean, telling the signaler that
Raven
had understood the message so far and he could now move onto the next part, which would be to indicate the course of their intended target.

The light flickered rapidly from the other ship. Zavac and Andras both counted under their breaths.

“Eight,” they said simultaneously as the light stopped flashing. There was a pause, then it started again. Again, they both counted eight flashes. Zavac glanced at his first mate for confirmation.

“It’s heading northwest,” Andras confirmed.

In their simple code, the major points of the compass were indicated by numbers, with one being north, two being northeast, three being east and so on. Eight flashes meant northwest. As they considered this, the light began its rapid flashing again. The sender would continue until they acknowledged that they had received his message.

“Answer, blast you!” Zavac snapped irritably at the lookout. The sailor rolled his eyes. It wasn’t up to him to acknowledge any of
Viper
’s signals until he was told to do so. Zavac had no call to vent his anger at him. Now he angled his steel plate across the sun in a back-and-forth movement to send a return series of flashes.

Zavac thought for a moment. The wind was out of the south, veering occasionally to the southwest. To be heading northwest, the
unknown ship would be under sail, with the wind coming from her port beam.

“Signal three,” he called to the lookout. The man nodded and began to send a slow-paced series of flashes, three at a time. He continued until the
Viper
replied with a rapid flashing signal indicating that they’d received the message.

Zavac, his eyes fixed on the
Viper
, spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Andras. “Stop rowing.”

As the first mate relayed the order, the men raised their oars parallel to the surface of the ocean and rested their elbows on them. Gradually, the way ran off the low black ship and she rocked and pitched on the waves.

On board
Viper
, the crew were hurriedly shoving a tangled mass of sail, rope and a broken spar over the starboard side, so the hull listed heavily. Then, as one of the crew at the stern lit a small iron pot filled with oily rags, a column of dark smoke began to drift upward. Within a few minutes, the trim little ship had taken on the appearance of a cripple—and one in desperate straits.

“Take her away to port,” Zavac said, and Andras ordered the crew to start rowing again, heaving on the tiller so that the
Raven
began a long turn back to the northeast. Gradually, the
Viper
dropped below the horizon, until all they could see of her was the column of smoke, drifting on the moderate breeze.

“Hold her here,” Zavac said.

Andras issued orders for the rowers to alternately row and back water so that the
Raven
held her position.

“Raise the bow whip!” Zavac called, and several crewmen got busy, raising a slender mast and attaching it to the bow post. The
lookout quickly climbed the narrow pole. It swayed beneath his weight but held firm. There was a crosspiece near the top and he settled onto it, wrapping arms and legs around the vertical spar.

“I’ve got
Viper
in sight,” he called.

Zavac nodded, satisfied. The slim spar the lookout was resting on would be far less visible than the
Raven
’s thick mast and crossyard. Chances were their victim would never see the figure of the lookout, suspended just above the horizon.

They waited. Minutes passed with no further report from the lookout. Finally, Zavac called out in exasperation.

“Do you see anything?”

“Just the
Viper
,” came the reply.

Andras eyed his skipper with mild scorn. “He’d say if he had,” he muttered.

Zavac swung on him. “Don’t tell me my job!” he snarled. “Just make sure you’re doing yours!”

Yours and mine both, Andras thought. But he wisely said no more.

More waiting. Zavac’s hand clenched and unclenched on the hilt of his sword, its scabbard thrust through the heavy belt at his waist. He cursed under his breath, wondering what was happening beyond the immediate horizon. The unknown ship may have smelled a rat and turned away. His hastily devised signal code wasn’t sufficiently sophisticated for the
Viper
to send him a minute-by-minute account of proceedings. She could tell him how many ships there were and which way they were heading, little more.

“Lookout!” he snapped. “Do you see anything?”

There was a pause while the lookout considered shouting back
If I did, I’d tell you, wouldn’t I?
But he discarded the notion. Zavac had an uncertain temper and the lookout had seen men killed for insubordination far milder than that. Instead, he replied as before.

“Just the
Viper
.”

There was another pause, while Zavac stalked the deck, back and forth, scowling in fury. Andras was tempted to point out that, if their quarry had sailed away,
Viper
would not be keeping up the appearance of a ship in distress. The fact that the smoke still drifted above the horizon indicated that she was doing so.

“Captain!” yelled the lookout.

Zavac’s head snapped up.

“There’s another ship in sight! A nice, fat trader by the look of her. And she’s heading for the
Viper
!”

chapter
fourteen

R
eady oars!” Zavac shouted, not bothering to relay the order through Andras. The rowers settled themselves more firmly on the benches, rolling their shoulders and stretching their muscles prior to beginning to row again.

The rest of the crew were busy arming themselves, and making jokes about the fate of their intended victim.

“Lookout!” snarled Zavac.

“She’s coming alongside
Viper
 . . . almost there. Now she’s alongside… Hah! There go
Viper
’s boarders!”

The last report was delivered with a triumphant shout. The lookout craned round on his perch to see what Zavac’s reaction would be. He didn’t have long to wait.

“Oars!” Zavac shouted.