02 The Invaders (35 page)

Hal was aware that Thorn had moved to a position in the bow, crouching under the bow post. When Ingvar reloaded, he would stand and provide protection with the two small shields.

Now Ingvar moved behind the crossbow, and took hold of the traversing pole. Hal peered over the sights.

“Left a little… left… left… back right…”

To avoid confusion, they had agreed that for steering orders to Edvin, he would use the terms
port
and
starboard
. Aiming directions for Ingvar would be given as
left
or
right
.

He peered down the sights of the crossbow, watching the tower rise and fall as the ship went up and over successive waves. An arrow flashed into the sea just off the port bow. They were coming into range. He heard a rapid rattling sound as three arrows struck the bow. Something hit the deck to one side of him. Not an arrow. Possibly a stone flung by a slinger.

“Everybody stay down,” he called, without taking his eyes off the tower, which was looming closer and closer. His left hand turned the elevating cog smoothly, raising the bow so that the sight was centered on the pinewood railing of the tower. He wanted the
first shot to be successful, so he was aiming at the largest possible target.

An arrow zipped through the
Heron
’s sail.

The tower seemed to fill his sights. He could see one of the defenders, distinctive in a bright green jacket, on the extreme left-hand end, aiming a recurve bow, drawing the arrow back. Then he released and Hal lost sight of the shaft.

A few seconds later, it thudded, quivering, into the deck beside him. They were about seventy-five meters out.

Then his sights and the target were aligned and he gently tugged on the trigger lanyard.

SLAM!

The Mangler bucked with the recoil and the bolt streaked away. A few seconds later, a section of the pine balustrade around the tower exploded in a hail of splinters as the heavy projectile smashed into it, then through it, cartwheeling among the defenders and knocking men over.

Others were hit by the flying pine splinters. They reeled away in pain and panic, wondering what had hit them.

The defenders, caught completely by surprise, dropped under the balustrade out of sight. The hail of arrows and projectiles suddenly ceased as they tried to work out what was happening.

“Ready!” shouted Ingvar. He hadn’t waited to hear what happened with the first shot. He’d leapt forward to cock and load the Mangler. Lydia, seeing a way of helping, had crept forward on her knees, staying below the bulwark, and passed a fresh bolt to him.

Hal wound the elevation screw, calling aiming directions to
Ingvar. As ever, the Mangler had gone off line with the recoil of the first shot.

“Left… left… left. Steady!”

SLAM!

The range was shorter now and the bolt hit with even greater force. It caught the very top of the railing, showering more of those deadly splinters into the air, and spinning end over end through the window of the guardhouse.

“Come about!” Hal called, and as the
Heron
swung away from the eastern tower, the defenders belatedly came to life, and a hail of arrows and rocks followed her. One defender, with what seemed to Hal to be ridiculous optimism, even threw a spear after her.

But only a few struck home. The ship’s speed and the rapidly widening distance left most of the missiles in her wake. Hal glanced back, leaning to one side to see past the sail. The tower’s balustrade had two large, ragged gaps torn in it.

Ingvar was hopping eagerly from one foot to another.

“How did we do?” he asked. “Did it work?”

Hal had time to consider that Ingvar’s short-sightedness was actually an advantage in this situation. Since he couldn’t see the result of the shots, he wasn’t tempted to wait and watch. Once a bolt was on its way, he was instantly ready to recock and reload the massive weapon.

“We did well,” Hal told him. “Two great holes in the tower railing and probably half a dozen of the enemy hit by splinters and put out of action.” He glanced at Lydia. “Good idea helping with the reloading.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks. Did you notice that bowman in the green shirt? I might have to take care of him next time.”

Hal nodded. “I’d be grateful if you would.” He grinned at Thorn. “You didn’t have much to do on that run,” he said.

Thorn nodded. He didn’t return the grin.

“They’ll be ready for us when we come back,” he said. “They’ll know what’s coming.”

chapter
thirty - three

Z
avac had set up his headquarters in Limmat’s counting house. It was the official administration building of the town, where taxes were set and collected, public works organized, and where, in normal times, the town council met to look after ongoing business.

Zavac was using one of the larger offices to grade and separate the precious stones that were being delivered from the mine each day. The miners had struck a rich pocket of emeralds just before the pirate raid had overrun the town. In the days since, Zavac had kept them hard at work, delivering large numbers of stones each day. Now, he noticed, the daily yield was diminishing. The pocket was just about played out and soon it would be time to leave.

He was holding one of the larger specimens up to the light, admiring the way the light’s rays refracted and reflected inside the stone, when the door of the room burst open. One of his men stood there, panting heavily, sweat showing on his face. He had obviously been running hard.

He hesitated as Zavac lowered the stone and glared at him.

“What?” the
Raven
’s captain demanded, his voice harsh.

The man took several deep breaths. “There’s a ship,” he said finally.

Zavac raised one eyebrow. “A ship?” he repeated. “A ship? You come bursting in here without knocking to tell me there’s
a ship
?”

The man looked back the way he had come. With Zavac, he reflected, you could never win. If he hadn’t been told about the approach of the strange ship, he would have flown into a rage, striking out at those around him.

“It’s heading for the harbor mouth,” he said.

Zavac spread his hands in a sarcastic gesture. “And?”

“I… well… we thought… you should be told.”

“Is it a big ship?” Zavac asked. “A wolfship or a warship of some kind?”

“No. It’s… small. But maybe you should take a look at it.”

Zavac sighed heavily. He placed the emerald back in the tray on the table in front of him, then took the tray to a heavily reinforced wooden locker in the corner. He placed it inside, deliberately turned the key in the lock and placed it in his pocket. Then he regarded his subordinate once more.

“Very well,” he said. “Let’s see this ship.”

He led the way out of the office, locking the door behind them. His crewman followed anxiously behind him, half trotting to keep up with Zavac’s long stride.

They made their way down the broad thoroughfare to the harbor front, Zavac enjoying the way the citizens of Limmat shrank back from him as he passed. At the quay, he turned left and strode toward the boom, protected either side by the watchtowers.

He paused some fifty meters from the eastern tower. From here, on the inland side, he could see no sign of the damage the Mangler had inflicted in
Heron
’s first attack. He could hear voices shouting from the watchtower, but that was only to be expected. The members of the watch were probably yelling defiance at the interloper. Beyond, out to sea and obviously retreating, he could see a neat little ship, with a triangular sail.

He’d seen that ship before, he thought. Then he realized where. It was the ship belonging to the crew of young Skandians from under whose noses he’d stolen the priceless Andomal. His lip curled in anger.

Then he shook his head impatiently. The ship was small. She carried a crew of less than a dozen. And the harbor was protected by the two watchtowers and the massive log boom across the entrance.

He turned on his crewman, cuffing him across the head.

“You idiot!” he snarled. “They’re boys, and there can’t be more than ten of them! What possible harm do you think they can do us?”

The hapless pirate, who had left to alert Zavac before the
Heron
launched her attack, had no answer to the question. He cowered away from the furious captain.

“I thought—”

Zavac cut him off furiously. “Then don’t think in the future! You haven’t got the equipment for it!”

Turning on his heel, he stalked back toward the counting house.

“And see I’m not bothered again!” he threw back over his shoulder.

In the western watchtower, the commander appointed by Zavac watched with horrified fascination as what looked like a small Skandian wolfship launched her attack on his comrades across the harbor.

He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. There appeared to be some huge weapon in the bow of the ship, shooting heavy projectiles at the eastern tower. While he couldn’t make out the details of the weapon—possibly a large crossbow, he thought—or the projectiles themselves, the results were all too obvious.

He heard the shattering cracks as the bolts slammed into the pine balustrade across the harbor, and saw the hail of deadly splinters as they flew among the defenders. He could also make out the bolt as it spun end over end through the crowd of men on the walkway, scything several of them down. He heard their screams. Then the ship turned away and headed out to sea.

Now she was turning back. His eyes narrowed as he saw her settle on course and realized she was heading straight for him. The western tower was obviously the next target.

His mind raced. The biggest danger, it seemed to him, was the hail of splinters that each shot sent flying in its wake. The projectile itself might hit one or two people, but the splinters could put half a dozen others out of action. A dozen or more splinters would create a deadly hail with each single shot.

He looked round, searching for something to nullify their effect, and his gaze landed on the guardhouse in the center of the platform. There were half a dozen bunks in there, where men could rest and relax while they were off duty. And bunks meant bedding.

“Get those mattresses and blankets out here!” he yelled, pointing at the guardhouse. “Drape them over the railing! And hurry, blast your eyes!”

His men, still confused by the unexpected turn of events, were staring at him as if he’d suddenly lost his senses. He shoved one of them toward the door to the guardhouse. When the man moved slowly toward it, he helped him on his way with a kick. Another gaped at him and he cuffed him across the ears, yelling and cursing at him.

“Get moving, you wall-eyed idiot! Blankets and mattresses! They’ll stop the splinters flying!”

Gradually, his anger seemed to energize them and one or two of them even grasped the idea he had in mind. They moved with increasing urgency, two of them dashing inside and beginning to pass the bedding out through the open, unglazed window. The others hurried to drape the thick blankets and straw-filled mattresses over the top of the balustrade. The projectiles would go through them, the commander thought, but they’d smother that deadly hail of fragments.

Satisfied that the entire length of the balustrade was covered, he issued further orders.

“Archers! Up here. Get ready to cut them down! There’s some kind of infernal weapon in the bow of that ship. Aim for the men shooting it.”

Several men armed with bows moved forward to take their place at the heavily padded balustrade. Several others, having seen the fate of their comrades in the first tower, hung back. He snarled at them and shoved one of them forward. The others reluctantly followed.

“The rest of you get down!” he ordered. “Get below the railing and out of sight!”

The men were slow to obey him. They watched with fascination as the graceful little ship headed toward them. Every eye in the tower was on her. Nobody noticed the line of warriors emerging from the swamp to the west, moving quickly toward them.

On board the
Heron
, Hal watched, puzzled, as the defenders began to drape blankets and mattresses over the side of the balustrade. Thorn, crouching beside him, suddenly divined their purpose.