02 The Invaders (4 page)

W
ell, no wonder I couldn’t see it!” Stefan was shouting as Hal entered the hut. “My space is too far from the entrance. It’s dark and it’s stuffy. It’s all right for you! You get plenty of fresh air and light where you are!”

Jesper spread his hands, defeated by the lack of logic in Stefan’s argument.

“Is that my fault?” he asked. Before Jesper could reply, Ulf interjected, taking a pace toward Stefan.

“You should complain! I’m right by the entrance. It’s cold and it’s drafty and last night someone trod on me when he went to the privy!”

“I suppose you think that was me,” Wulf said, always ready to take offense when his brother spoke.

Ulf glared at him. “It probably was. It’s the sort of thing you’d do.”

“Except I didn’t get up to go to the privy last night! So roll that up in your blanket and throw it in the creek!”

“Boys,” Hal began, striving for a reasonable tone, “just calm down a…”

But his voice was drowned out by an outburst of squabbling from Ulf, Wulf, Stefan and Jesper. The twins continued to debate whether or not Wulf had gone to the privy; Ulf maintaining that, even if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t put it past his brother to get up simply to tread on him. Stefan and Jesper, meanwhile, had launched into a dispute over the inadequacies of Stefan’s sleeping space, hard up against the rear wall of the hut. Hal, realizing that his voice would never carry over their heated words, turned to Ingvar and gestured for him to step forward.

“Shut them up, will you, Ingvar?”

The huge boy nodded. Hal knew from their brotherband training period that Ingvar’s massive chest could produce a deafening volume of sound. He stepped away as he saw the large boy draw in a deep breath.

“QUIET!” Ingvar boomed. “QUIET, THE LOT OF YOU!”

Silence filled the hut as the four arguing boys were stunned by the sudden roar. They all turned and, for the first time, noticed Hal. Taking advantage of the sudden silence, he spoke before they could recover their wits and resume fighting.

“What in Gorlog’s name is going on here? Are you all crazy? What are you arguing about?”

“My bed space is no good,” Stefan said. “It’s dark and it’s too close to the back of the tent. It’s stuffy. And the smell of everyone’s dead socks gathers back there.”

“You should try it by the entrance where I am!” Ulf said. “It’s freezing!”

Hal looked at him, frowning. He had the space directly opposite Ulf’s and he liked the fact that it provided plenty of fresh air. If it got a little drafty, it was a simple matter to pull the blankets up and huddle down under them. Hal quite enjoyed that, as a matter of fact.

“We drew lots for the sleeping spaces,” he pointed out, striving to keep a reasonable tone.

Ulf shrugged petulantly. “Well, if I’d known I was going to be so close to the door, I would have drawn a different one.”

Hal gave up trying to be reasonable. He glared at Ulf.

“Do you realize how abysmally stupid that statement is?” he demanded.

Ulf stepped back a half pace, disconcerted by the anger in Hal’s voice. Hal was their skirl. The crew had elected him unanimously to that position and he had proved himself more than worthy of it. He had earned their respect and their loyalty. During brotherband training, he had shown an ability to outthink and outplan and outwit their opponents. He was an expert helmsman and navigator—qualities held in high esteem by all Skandians. Plus he had another indefinable quality—an air of natural authority and leadership. All of those things combined to earn Ulf’s respect and deference. As a result, when Hal became angry, as he was now, Ulf tended to back down. If Hal was a natural leader, Ulf was a natural follower.

“Well, I… er…”

Hal stopped him with a dismissive gesture and turned to the others.

“Anyone else got a problem with his bed space?” he demanded.

The others exchanged looks. Stig was the first to speak.

“I’m fine,” he said.

Edvin, Wulf and Jesper all mumbled agreement. From behind him, Hal heard Ingvar’s deep rumble.

“I’m happy where I am.”

“And so am I,” Hal said, turning his gaze on Ulf and Stefan. “So that leaves just you two, correct?”

Both boys looked uncomfortable, realizing that they were very much in the minority. Stefan shrugged awkwardly.

“Well, as I said, my space is kind of dark and—”

“No need for a speech,” Hal told him sharply. “Just yes or no will do fine. Do you have a problem with your bed space?”

Stefan looked around the tent, as did Ulf. Neither of them saw any support or sympathy from their companions.

“Um… yes. I guess so,” Stefan said finally.

Hal switched his gaze to Ulf. “And you? You’re not happy either, is that right?”

“Er… yes. I suppose so.”

“Good,” said Hal. “In that case, you two can swap.”

There was a moment of silence. The other boys turned away to hide their smiles. Stefan and Ulf stared at Hal, not completely sure that they’d heard him.

“What?” Stefan said finally.

“Swap spaces. You take Ulf’s. He takes yours. Do it now.”

“But… ,” Ulf began. In truth, he was relatively content with his space by the entrance. He had simply been complaining for the sake of having something to say. And Stefan felt much the same. His spot at the rear of the hut was warm and cozy. It might get stuffy occasionally, but that was a small matter in this cold weather.

Both boys realized how foolish they would appear if they changed their minds now. Still they hesitated.

“I can have Ingvar do it for you if you like,” Hal prompted, and that was enough to stir them into activity. They knew that if Ingvar moved their belongings, he would drop and scatter things through the hut. They changed places, moving their bedrolls and small piles of possessions and spare clothes to their new positions.

As Stefan laid out his bedroll, a gust of icy wind shook the hut. The canvas flap by the entrance did little to stop it. He looked reluctantly back to his former cozy spot at the rear, where Ulf was now spreading his own bedroll. He sighed. He supposed he should feel resentment toward Hal but he was honest enough to admit that it was all his own fault. Like Ulf, he had only been complaining because it was one of the few activities available to them. Hal had done nothing more than call his bluff.

Hal watched, standing with his arms folded over his chest, as the two boys changed places. The others lay on their bedrolls, propped up on their elbows and watching with wide grins. They admired the way Hal had cut the ground from under the two complaining crew members. Their smiles faded when the changeover was complete and Hal’s voice cracked out a new command.

“All right, everyone! Off your backsides and outside! Right away!”

They rose uncertainly. Jesper frowned as he looked out through the entry and turned back toward his bedroll.

“It’s raining,” he said. “Why do we have to go outside?”

He felt an iron grip on his left arm and looked round to see Stig’s face a few centimeters from his own.

“Because your skirl says so!” Stig told him, grinning fiercely. “Now, move!”

Then Jesper was propelled through the canvas curtain and sent staggering on the wet grass outside. He stood disconsolately, waiting for the others to join him. One by one, they straggled out of the hut.

Stig was the last to leave. He paused by Hal’s side as he went.

“Nice to have you back in charge,” he said.

Hal nodded apologetically. “Sorry I’ve let things slip. Form them up out there, will you?”

Stig nodded, still grinning, and followed the others out into the open. Hal waited a few seconds, took a deep breath, then went out to join them.

He saw Thorn was off to one side, sitting on a log. The ragged old sea wolf nodded discreet approval. Obviously, he had heard everything that went on inside the hut.

The other members of the crew were lined up in a semicircle, waiting for him. Stig was at the right-hand end of the line. Hal stepped forward and looked keenly along the line of faces, taking particular note of Ulf and Stefan. He was pleased to see no trace of continuing resentment in their expressions. To be truthful, they both had a grudging admiration for the way Hal had handled their complaints. Jesper, he noted, looked a little sulky, possibly because of his rough handling from Stig. Hal shrugged mentally. Jesper often looked sulky. The other boys were waiting expectantly to hear what he had to say.

“We’ve lost our edge,” Hal told them, and he saw a few of them look at him curiously. “We spent three months in brotherband
training getting fit, learning weapon craft and seamanship. Best of all, we learned to function as a brotherband—to work together as a team and help one another. Now that seems to have evaporated. We’ve become strangers again.”

The boys exchanged glances and he could see their reluctant agreement with what he had said. Edvin took a half pace forward.

“We’re bored,” he said. “It’s as simple as that. There’s nothing to do here but lie around all day.”

Several of the others mumbled agreement. Hal hid his delighted smile. He could have cheerfully hugged Edvin for stating the problem for him.

“That’s right,” he said. “And that’s going to change. Starting tomorrow, we’re going back into training.”

There was a mixed reaction to that. Stig, Edvin and Stefan nodded instant approval. The twins considered it for a few seconds and then nodded too. Jesper, predictably, was the one to raise an objection.

“Training? What sort of training?”

Hal met his gaze steadily until Jesper dropped his eyes. “The sort of training we did in brotherband. Weapon skills. Fitness training. Seamanship. Sail handling.”

“But we’ve done that. Why do it again?”

Hal stepped closer to Jesper to make his point.

“We did it for three months. Three months! Do you think we know it all after such a short period? And we’re looking to confront the
Raven
and its crew of fifty pirates. They’re warriors who’ve spent all their lives fighting and killing. Do you think three months’ training has prepared us to face them? Because I don’t. And I want
to get the Andomal back when we catch up with them, not get killed in the attempt.” He turned toward Thorn, still sitting on the fallen log.

“Thorn!” he called. “Will you take on the position of trainer?”

The shaggy figure stood slowly from the log and walked across to join them.

“With pleasure,” he said when he was closer.

Stig raised a hand to get Hal’s attention. “Hal, you said we’d practice seamanship and sail handling. How can we do that while these storms keep blowing?”

Hal nodded his appreciation of the question. “We’ll set up a mast onshore here and rig the sails and yardarms to it. We’ll make it so that Ingvar can turn it according to the wind, and we’ll work on our sail handling and trimming skills. If there’s calm weather, we’ll put to sea, or do training in the bay.”

Stig thought about the answer, his head tilted to one side. “Good idea,” he said.

Hal grinned. “I thought so.” Then, as another hand was raised, he turned a little wearily back to Jesper. “Yes, Jesper. What is it now?”

“Well, no offense,” he began, and Hal had a moment to reflect that whenever people began with “no offense” they invariably went on to be extremely offensive. “But what qualifies Thorn to train us? I mean… he’s Thorn, after all. No offense,” he repeated.

Thorn smiled at him but the smile never reached his eyes.

Hal turned to him. “Thorn, would you like to show Jesper how qualified you are?”

Thorn appeared to think about the question. Then he moved
with blinding speed, covering the ground between himself and Jesper.

Jesper, a former thief, was accustomed to moving quickly when threatened. But he never had time to register that Thorn was moving. The old sea wolf’s left hand closed on Jesper’s collar in an iron grip and he hoisted the boy off his feet, holding him suspended, his feet dangling clear of the ground.

Then he gathered himself and hurled Jesper away like a sack of potatoes. The boy flew several meters through the air, hit the ground and lost his footing, crashing over on his back. As he lay winded, he looked up into Thorn’s bearded face, a face wreathed in a fierce smile.

“How’s that for qualifications?”

Jesper nodded several times, and waved weakly in reply.

“Tha’s pretty good,” he gasped breathlessly. “Pretty good indeed.”

chapter
four

T
here was only the faintest glow of light touching the tops of the trees on the eastern headland when Thorn woke the boys the following morning.

Perhaps
woke
is a little misleading. It implies a certain amount of care and consideration. The old sea wolf erupted into the hut, bellowing at the top of his voice and jerking blankets from cowering, whining forms. He carried a long baton made from a trimmed hickory branch and he beat noisily on the frames of the hut to punctuate his cries.

“Up! Up! Up!” he roared. “There’s perfectly good daylight going to waste and we only get one chance at it before it’s gone! On your feet and get dressed. Up! Up! Up!”