02 The Invaders (34 page)

Hal was at the tiller, feet set wide apart to balance against the surging of the deck as
Heron
swept up and over successive waves. She was taking the waves on her starboard bow, so that the ship was performing a regular corkscrewing action. Up, roll right, down, roll left, then repeat the sequence.

“
Wolfwind
’s heading into the marshes,” Thorn reported, from his position amidships, by the fin. Hal glanced over his shoulder. The long, lean wolfship was traveling fast under oars. That probably
had something to do with the fact that she’d been lightened until she drew only a few centimeters of water. Less drag, more speed, he thought.

She had rounded the promontory that marked the end of the beach where they had made their camp. But whereas
Heron
was heading out to sea,
Wolfwind
was swinging to port, into the small creek that led into the marshes.

“Rather them than me,” Hal said. Out here, the breeze was fresh and the air was clean and invigorating. In the swamps, he knew from previous experience, the air would be humid and still, and filled with clouds of annoying insects.

He angled the
Heron
farther to starboard, aiming to keep her out of sight of the town a little longer. He nodded approvingly as Ulf and Wulf, without any need for orders, adjusted the trim of the sail to match the new course.

“Hard to see
Wolfwind
without her mast, isn’t it?” Hal remarked.

Stig, standing ready beside him, glanced at the wolfship as she angled into the creek. Her gray hull blended naturally with the gray-green of the swamp grasses and reeds. He grunted agreement.

“How long do you think she’ll take?” Hal asked.

“Wallis thought just over an hour,” Stig replied. Wallis was the elderly Limmatan who was guiding Svengal.

Hal nodded, thinking. “And we’ll take about twenty minutes to reach the harbor mouth,” he said. “We’ll stay out of sight for another ten minutes, then we’ll let them see us.”

“That should set the cat among the pigeons,” Stig said, grinning.

“Or the crossbow among the pirates,” Hal said quietly.

chapter
thirty - two

H
al tipped the thirty-minute sand glass that he used for navigation and watched as the grains began to cascade through the narrow aperture from top to bottom. He could have estimated the twenty minutes, but using the instrument appealed to his sense of accuracy. He smiled as he recalled his conversation with Jesper.

How will we know when ten minutes are up?

We’ll know because that’ll be when I light the signal fire.

He realized now that their minds must have been starting to wander when they had that conversation, as a result of the biting cold and the weariness that was overtaking them. Maybe that’s why he wanted to be precise this morning, to prove that he was back in control of his faculties.

He realized that Stig was jogging his elbow and pointing to the graduation marks on the sand glass. Twenty minutes had passed while he’d been woolgathering. So much for his love of precision, he thought.

“We’re coming about!” he called. “Time to start the party!”

They tacked smoothly, and once they were running toward the beach, he gestured for Stig to take the helm. He nodded approvingly as he saw that his friend had slung his large round shield on his left arm, so that it covered him. When they turned away from the beach, Stig would slip the shield around to cover his back. Hal checked the other shields, which were placed along the bulwarks. They were mounted higher than usual, so they provided extra cover for the crew. He caught Thorn’s eye and jerked his head forward. The old sea wolf was standing in the waist of the ship, swaying easily with the ship’s movement. Lydia sat close by, checking the darts in her quiver.

“Let’s get ready,” he said. Thorn stooped and retrieved two small, round metal shields, shaped rather like outsize bowls. He clamped his hook onto the handle of one, then slipped his left hand into the grip of the second. Lydia rose and the three of them made their way to the bow. The two Skandians moved easily, matching their stride to the ship’s regular heave and pitch. Lydia was less sure-footed. From time to time, she grasped at a stay or the mast itself to steady herself.

Ingvar was standing ready by the Mangler. He’d spent the past two days making projectiles for the weapon and they were ranged now in two racks, one on either side of the bow. Hal glanced at them. There were a dozen bolts in each rack.

“Did you make the fire bolts as well?” Hal asked.

Ingvar indicated a tub set by the mast. There were half a dozen fire bolts resting in it—specially prepared projectiles with their points wrapped in oil-soaked cloth, then daubed liberally with pitch. Hal planned to use one of them to set fire to the oil-soaked
beach gate when the time came. They were resting head down in the tub, which contained several centimeters of oil in the bottom to stop the soaked cloth from drying out.

The
Heron
rose on a wave and he could see the eastern tower, showing briefly above the horizon.

Hal glanced round at Edvin, who was standing ready to relay his helm orders to Stig.

“Come to port a little,” he said. As the bow swung to a point midway between the towers, he raised his hands and Stig steadied on that course. Automatically, Ulf and Wulf adjusted the sail to the new direction.

“Shall I load up?” Ingvar asked eagerly. But Hal shook his head. The longer the Mangler was kept under tension, the greater the strain on its limbs, string and trigger mechanism. They wouldn’t be shooting for some minutes, so there was no point in risking an accidental breakage.

“Relax,” he said, his eyes narrowing as both towers came into full view. He pictured the scene on the walkway that surrounded the east tower as the lookout, lounging on the railing, eyes half closed and drowsy after a big lunch, suddenly became aware that a strange ship was approaching—and approaching fast.

There would be a moment’s confusion and indecision. Then he would sound the alarm—either a bell or a horn—Hal assumed. He turned his head slightly toward the tower, testing to see if he could hear either. But the distance was too great. All he could hear was the regular hiss of the sea as the
Heron
’s sharp prow cut through it and sent it streaming down either side of the ship—that and the regular soft thump as she came down in successive troughs.

“They’ve seen us,” Thorn said. Hal marveled at his old friend’s keen eyesight. Then, as they traveled a few meters closer, he could make out the tiny dark shapes running along the harbor mole and mounting the ladder to the watchtowers. There seemed to be a lot of them, he thought, but at this distance, it was impossible to estimate their numbers. And now, he realized, he could hear the alarm, a wailing, undulating blast on a horn.

They were two hundred meters from the harbor entrance. Hal opened his mouth to call to Stig. At this stage, he didn’t want to get within arrow range of the towers. But as he went to give an order, Stig swung the
Heron
smoothly to starboard. The ship raced parallel to the shore now. She was heeled a little too far and Hal turned to issue another order. But Ulf and Wulf forestalled him, easing the sheets so that she rode more upright. He glanced up and met Lydia’s eye. She had noticed how Stig and the twins had anticipated his orders and she smiled tightly at him.

She’s nervous, he thought.

“Looks like I’m not needed,” he said, planning to steady her nerves with the joke. He was surprised to find that his voice was slightly higher pitched than normal.

I’m nervous too, he thought.

He realized he was sitting forward on the Mangler’s small seat, shoulders and body tensed. He leaned back, forcing his muscles to relax. He glanced back down the ship to where the crew members crouched at their stations. None of them appeared to be as edgy as he felt. He hoped he looked as confident as they did.

Stig swung the ship back to run in the opposite direction. Stefan and Edvin attended to the changeover of sails. Hal felt the
giant crossbow move smoothly under him as Ingvar tested its motion. He had a long stout pole inserted into the tail of the carriage and he could swivel the Mangler through a ninety-degree arc—forty-five degrees either side of the bow post. Hal glanced up at him and the big boy grinned.

“Just testing,” he said.

Hal nodded. He didn’t want to speak again in case his voice was too high-pitched.

“Anyone see any sign of Barat and his men?” Lydia asked suddenly. They were passing the spot where the Limmatan force should be hidden in the tree line.

“Well,
I
certainly can’t,” Ingvar responded, with a wide grin. Hal glanced at him again. The huge boy’s nerves seemed as steady as a rock, he thought. About to go into action for the first time and here he was, coolly cracking jokes about his own short-sightedness.

“Thought I saw a movement in the trees a few seconds ago,” Thorn said. “But that might just have been because I know they should be there somewhere.”

“Well, if we can’t see them, neither can the pirates,” Hal said.

“If they’re there,” Ingvar said scornfully. He’d witnessed Barat’s overbearing manner with Hal and he had a very low opinion of the townspeople’s battle commander.

“They’ll be there,” Lydia said quietly.

Ingvar glanced in her direction. “Sorry, Lydia,” he said. After all, he’d just insulted her countrymen. She waved the apology aside.

“Barat can be an almighty pain and a pompous idiot,” she said. “But he’s a good commander and a good fighter. He won’t let us down.”

A ragged line of splashes threw up spray twenty meters inshore of the racing ship. Arrows from the watchtower, Hal thought. They were still outside the maximum range. Just then one arrow, launched from a more powerful bow, rattled against the starboard bulwark and fell into the sea. Its energy was spent and it didn’t have enough force behind it to penetrate the timber.

But it was a warning of what they would face when they went closer.

“Are you ready, Thorn?” he asked. The small shields his friend was carrying seemed a little inadequate.

“I’m ready. Don’t worry about me. Just keep your mind on your shooting,” was the calm reply. And suddenly, Hal’s concerns were eased. Thorn knew what he was doing, he thought. The small shields might not have been Hal’s choice, but Thorn knew more about this sort of thing than he ever would.

As they sailed past the first tower, approaching the second, Thorn used one of the shields to shade his eyes, peering into the tangle of reeds and low-lying islands that marked the swamp.

“I can see
Wolfwind
!” he said. “She’s almost reached the starting point. There—just to the left of those two slanting trees.”

Hal followed his gaze. There were two scrubby trees on a sand island close to the edge of the marsh. With so little purchase for their roots, the wind had caused both of them to lean to one side. Looking to the left, he saw a slight movement, then made out the low hull of
Wolfwind
as she passed through an open channel.

He looked back to the watchtower. They were close enough to see details now and it appeared that every eye was on the
Heron
. So
far, the plan was working. Nobody on either watchtower had any idea of the threat that was creeping toward them through the marshes.

“Stig!” he called, forgetting in the heat of the moment that he had Edvin stationed to relay his orders. “Take us out to sea, then come in to attack the east tower.”

With the Mangler only capable of firing in a restricted arc either side of the bow, he’d have to attack the tower head on, then turn away and head back out to sea. Then they’d turn again to carry out a similar attack on the western tower. That way, he would have less sideways correction to allow for, as he would be heading almost directly for his target. And he’d present a smaller target to the defenders, rather than the full length of the hull.

The disadvantage was that he and the others in the bow of the
Heron
would bear the brunt of the return shots from the towers. Still, he was confident that Thorn would look after that part. And Lydia, he thought. They had discussed her role several days before. If any of the archers on the tower became too accurate, it would be her task to eliminate them.

They were three hundred meters offshore now and Stig swung the ship in an arc. They’d attack the towers one after the other, repeating the attacks until they had exhausted their ammunition, or the garrisons in the towers were neutralized—whichever came first.

There was a third alternative, of course. There was always the chance that the men in the tower might just do a little neutralizing of their own. But Hal didn’t care to think about that.

Peering over the sights of the crossbow, he was aware, with a
detached part of his mind, of the crew hoisting and adjusting sails, then
Heron
steadied on her course.

“Load her, Ingvar,” he said.

His giant friend leaned forward, seized the two cocking handles of the Mangler and drew the limbs back until the cord clicked into place over the retaining latch. Then Ingvar selected the first of the meter-long bolts and laid it in the groove on top of the weapon, ensuring that the notch at the rear end was engaged with the thick cord.