Authors: John Flanagan
Tags: #Fantasy, #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Action & Adventure, #General
The Outcasts (15 page)
Zavac looked quizzically at the skirl and his nephew.
“It’s been nice talking to you,” he said. “Although I’m sure you didn’t tell me quite everything.”
He turned on his heel and Arndak called out to stop him.
“Wait! Take the boy with you! You gave me your word!”
Zavac turned back to him. There was no sign of the smile now. “So I did. But we all know that the word of a pirate is worth nothing.”
Then he turned and left the
Spraydancer,
leaping nimbly across to his own ship.
Spraydancer,
leaping nimbly across to his own ship.
“Be brave,” Arndak told his nephew as the ship began to settle. He was proud of the boy. He held his chin high and endured the fear as he waited to die, without complaint or whimpering.
As the water closed over them, it occurred to Arndak that there was one night in the year when the Andomal was not so securely guarded.
But it was too late to do anything about it.
PART 3
THE
BROTHERBANDS
BROTHERBANDS
chapter
thirteen
thirteen
T
wenty-eight boys assembled outside the town in a small field set aside as a training ground. They were the boys who were turning sixteen that year and it was an unusually large number. In an average year, there might be sixteen to twenty boys selected into their brotherbands.
wenty-eight boys assembled outside the town in a small field set aside as a training ground. They were the boys who were turning sixteen that year and it was an unusually large number. In an average year, there might be sixteen to twenty boys selected into their brotherbands.
The brotherbands were a unique Skandian concept, born of the fact that Skandians were traditionally seafarers. Many years ago, they had created a training system in which boys were placed in small groups to practice and learn together. Each group was called a brotherband. Its members would bond as a team while they learned tactics, weapon skills, seamanship, ship handling and navigation.
The brotherbands replicated the concept of a ship’s crew—shipmates had to work together and trust their companions, sometimes with their lives. Quite often, boys who trained in a brotherband together would be recruited into the same ship’s crew, and would serve and work and relax together for the rest of their lives. Brotherbands formed bonds and lifelong friendships.
And they taught their members the value of combining their varying skills to best advantage.
Since a successful ship’s crew required a captain, or skirl, to command it, the brotherband system also developed another vital skill: leadership. Natural leaders tended to come to the fore in the bands. They were the boys with that little extra, that indefinable quality that caused the others to look to them for ideas and direction. Sometimes, at the beginning of their training, a band would elect its most popular member as leader. But popularity wasn’t always the most important part of leadership, and quite often, before the training period was over, that leader would have been replaced by someone else—someone who had shown that he had the necessary confidence and ability to command.
Hal and Stig arrived at the assembly ground together. They were early and there were only a half dozen or so other boys already there. Most of them greeted Stig, and some nodded vaguely to Hal. He looked around nervously. Tursgud, with his band of followers, hadn’t arrived yet. Knowing Tursgud, he’d swagger up at the last possible minute, Hal thought. He rubbed his knuckles absentmindedly. After dinner with his mam the previous night, he’d headed back to the shelter where he’d hung Thorn’s sack. He’d hammered away at it for several hours, working to perfect the sequence of punches that Thorn had shown him, doing them over and over again in sequence so that they became instinctive. Finally, shoulders aching and knuckles reddened by the rough canvas, he’d called it a night, trudged back up the hill to his mam’s house and fallen into bed, exhausted.
“Hope we’re picked in the same band,” Stig said eagerly. Hal nodded, although he doubted that it would happen. With twenty-eight boys, he suspected there would be three bands formed today. He knew that each brotherband needed at least eight members in order to be able to row the ships they were being trained on.
Stig was shifting eagerly from one foot to the other, looking around at the other boys as they gradually drifted into the assembly area, waving and responding to their greetings. He was filled with nervous energy and anticipation. Brotherband selection was a big day in any boy’s life and he was looking forward to it. He didn’t see that Hal would have any problem being picked. Hal was smart and intelligent and inventive, he thought—and a good friend. But then, Stig was an optimist.
Hal, on the other hand, faced the day with a certain sense of resignation. Stig was big and athletic and, perhaps most important, a Skandian. Any brotherband would welcome him as a member despite his hot temper. Whereas Hal knew he would be one of the last to be chosen. It would be embarrassing to stand waiting, while other boys’ names were called and they moved to join their bands.
And he knew that any band who did choose him would do so reluctantly, probably resenting that they had to. He wouldn’t be surprised, he thought gloomily, if his was the last name to be called. And then he could look forward to three months of being mocked, insulted, ordered around and given the most boring and menial tasks to carry out.
“What’s Erak doing here?” Stig said, breaking through his gloomy thoughts.
Hal looked up. This was a surprise. Normally, the Oberjarl took no part in the selection of the brotherbands. From time to time he might visit the training ground and check on progress. But the first day was usually something that didn’t concern him.
Yet here he came, striding alongside Sigurd, the former ship’s skirl who had been given the overall responsibility for training the brotherbands. Sigurd had a reputation as a hard taskmaster and a strict disciplinarian. Boys coming under his control usually did so with a distinct sense of nervousness. He was short-tempered and had no patience for those who were lazy or foolish. Yet most agreed that he was fair and didn’t play favorites.
Sigurd and Erak were deep in conversation as they made their way through the gaggle of expectant boys to the small platform set on one side of the training ground. The boys drifted along behind them, as if drawn by some invisible force, gradually forming a loose half circle in front of the two men, three ranks deep.
And now, of course, Tursgud and three of his close companions swaggered in, thrusting their way through to the front row, regardless of the occasional angry glances they drew. Hal, in the back row, noticed that Erak looked up and nodded a greeting to Tursgud. The boy nodded back confidently, standing with his legs braced apart, hands thrust into his belt.
Thursgud’s father was the Maktig, of course. As his son, Hal supposed Tursgud was afforded a certain familiarity with Erak. Tursgud made no bones about the fact that he intended to follow in his father’s footsteps and become the Maktig one day. And there was every likelihood that he would.
Still, as Stig had observed on more than one occasion, perhaps he could wait till he
is
the Maktig before he starts putting on airs.
is
the Maktig before he starts putting on airs.
Erak said a few more quiet words to Sigurd, then stepped back, leaving the platform to the grizzled old seafarer. On an impulse, Hal turned round and studied the trees a hundred meters away. Brotherband selection was a more or less private event and spectators were discouraged. But some sixth sense told him they were being watched. Sure enough, standing under a clump of half-grown conifers, he could see the ragged figure of Thorn. He’d had a suspicion that the man might show up to watch.
His attention was drawn back to the front as Sigurd cleared his throat noisily.
“All right! All right! Settle down and pay attention!” he called.
There was really no need for either instruction. The twenty-eight boys had been waiting since he arrived for proceedings to commence. He already had their attention and they were already settled down. But the half circle of boys unconsciously shuffled closer to the platform where Sigurd was standing.
“Everybody here?” He looked up, casting his gaze around them. A few boys looked at those on either side of them, as if to make sure that they were, in fact, present.
“Sing out if you’re not here,” he commanded and a nervous laugh ran through the group. They thought it might be a good idea to laugh at any joke Sigurd might crack. They were all in awe of him and nervous that for the next few months they would be subject to his discipline. People in authority, they knew, liked it when their jokes were appreciated, even if the jokes were a little feeble.
“All right, let’s get under way,” Sigurd said crisply, after studying them for a few seconds.
Hal was surprised. He had half expected that some kind of roll might be called, to determine if anyone was missing. He didn’t realize that Sigurd, in the past few seconds, had quickly done a head count and ascertained that the correct number of nervous boys was standing in front of him. Sigurd had been doing this job for years. He could do a head count like that in seconds.
“Today,” Sigurd began, “you’re going to be selected into your brotherbands.” He paused, then added, “That’s in case any of you thought this was the Hallasholm Ladies’ Needlework Society. If so, you may leave now.”
Again, a nervous ripple of laughter went through the assembled boys.
“First thing we do is select brotherband leaders. Any nominations?”
Predictably, one of Tursgud’s followers, standing on his right side, called out Tursgud’s name. Sigurd nodded. Like everyone else, he wasn’t surprised.
“Tursgud. Seconder?” he demanded.
“Second!” the person standing on the other side of Tursgud called out.
Sigurd had a board with several sheets of parchment clipped to it in his left hand. He made a note on it and glanced up at Tursgud.
“All right. Proposed and seconded. Congratulations, Tursgud.”
Tursgud shrugged. The matter had never been in doubt, after all. Congratulations seemed unnecessary.
“Anyone else?” Sigurd looked around the group.
“Rollond!” called a voice. A few heads craned to see who had called out, but most of those present weren’t surprised at the nomination. Rollond was a popular figure among the age group. He was the son of a successful and well-known wolfship captain. He was an excellent athlete and had quite a reputation as a wrestler. Unlike Tursgud, however, he had no pretensions about his own importance. He’d make a good brotherband skirl, Hal thought. He found himself hoping that Rollond would select him for his band. He and Rollond were by no means friends, but at least there was no animosity between them.
“Second!” he called, before Sigurd had time to ask for a seconder. A few people looked around, surprised that he had spoken. Rollond, who was at the end of the second rank, turned to see who had seconded his nomination. He hadn’t recognized the voice and he’d expected the call to come from one of his close friends. He frowned, then nodded acknowledgment as he realized it had been Hal.
“All right. Rollond. Who else?” Sigurd looked around the group of boys but there was a reluctance among them now. Everyone knew that any further captain elected would be competing with Rollond and Tursgud—and their respective groups of friends. The brotherbands competed against one another through the training period and there was a lot of prestige involved in being part of the winning band. On the other hand, there was a lot of embarrassment about being the losers. It was a stigma that could cling to you for years to come. Most of the boys present would rather be a member of a winning band—with Tursgud or Rollond as the captain—than captain of their own losing one. Inevitably, the group’s failure would be attributed to its leader.
Sigurd cast his glance over them impatiently. “Come on. With these numbers, we really need three teams. Anyone else?”
But there was no reply. Then, impulsively, Stig put his hand up. “Hal!” he yelled.
Beside him, Hal closed his eyes and cursed silently.
chapter
fourteen
fourteen
S
igurd turned to see who had spoken. Stig was obscured by the boys in front of him and he leaned to one side.
igurd turned to see who had spoken. Stig was obscured by the boys in front of him and he leaned to one side.
“Hal!” he repeated. Some of the other boys sniggered. Stig’s face began to redden.
“Shut up!” Hal whispered ferociously to his friend. He didn’t need this sort of embarrassment. He didn’t want any attention drawn to him, today of all days.
“Hal who?” Sigurd asked, genuinely puzzled. The sniggering now swelled into laughter.
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