Brotherband 3: The Hunters (44 page)
Svengal cackled with laughter. ‘They got that right!’
And then the room joined in on the chorus, shaking the walls and setting plates rattling on the tables.
The Herons! The Herons!
The mighty, fighting Herons!
No other brotherband you’ll see
is even half as darin’!
Jesper and Stefan began the next verse.
Hal spied a lovely warrior girl. She said, ‘My name is Lydia.’
He said to her, ‘Please come aboard. Have a drink and then we’ll feed ya.’
‘What?’ Hal looked at Erak, shaking his head. ‘Lydia and “feed ya”? What sort of rhyme is that?’
‘Shut up!’ Erak told him. ‘You don’t know good poetry when you hear it.’ Now that they were past the reference to his nose, he was enjoying the song again.
She said, ‘A bunch of pirates have invaded my home town.’
Hal shot his mighty Mangler and the walls came tumbling down.
Again, the hall resounded to the chorus, booming tunelessly from hundreds of lips, then Jesper and Stefan launched into the next verse.
They chased the
Raven
’cross the sea and down the River Dan.
When Zavac tried to stop them, Lydia foiled his evil plan.
‘Hooray!’ shouted the crowd, all of them beaming and raising their tankards to the girl in the green dress. Skandians loved a heroine – particularly one as beautiful as this.
They sailed right down a waterfall a hundred metres high
then sank a dozen pirate ships as they were passing by.
‘It was two! Two! That’s all. And they were boats, not ships!’ Hal said, shaking his head at the dreadful exaggerations flowing from Stefan and Jesper’s lips. The crowd sang another chorus with them and Erak looked at him in pity.
‘You probably had to be there to appreciate it,’ he said knowingly. Hal threw his arms wide in frustration.
‘I
was
there!’ he protested. ‘It was nothing like this!’ But Erak was listening to the next verse.
They sailed into Raguza and Hal said, as bold as brass,
‘We’ve come to challenge Zavac and we plan to kick his –’
‘Language!’ bellowed Svengal, interrupting them just in time. There was a rather attractive lady present who had been teaching him love poems and he didn’t want her tender ears sullied by such bawdiness. Stefan and Jesper paused, conferred quickly, then sang an amended version:
‘We’ve come to challenge Zavac, and he’s going to breathe his last.’
They glanced interrogatively at Svengal. He nodded his approval, and they continued.
They fought a mighty combat on the sea outside Raguza.
The
Heron
was triumphant and the
Raven
was the loser.
More cheers from the audience. Hal had by now given up trying to bring any sense of accuracy to the story being recounted.
Erak was entranced. His tankard was now empty. Those standing near him were thoroughly drenched.
They fought their way aboard her to retrieve the Andomal
and sailed back home to give it to the mighty Oberjarl.
More cheering, led enthusiastically by the mighty Oberjarl himself. Then one last chorus. Hal shook his head and joined in.
‘Might as well,’ he said. ‘Nobody will ever believe the true version.’
The Herons! The Herons!
The mighty, fighting Herons!
No other brotherband you’ll see
is even half as darin’!
As Stefan and Jesper clambered down, the crowd mobbed them, slapping their backs, praising their brilliant saga. Erak shook his head happily.
‘Now that’s real poetry!’ he exclaimed. Then he looked into his tankard and frowned. ‘Who drank my ale?’ he demanded and stalked off to get a refill.
There was one more event that night that was remembered for years to come. As the Herons sat happily at a table together, receiving the good wishes and praise of passers-by, one person watched with a baleful eye.
Tursgud had hated the Herons since they had beaten him and his crew in the brotherband contest. And he bitterly resented that when Erak punished them he hadn’t proclaimed Tursgud’s team winners by default. Now he scowled and watched as people slapped them on the back and wished them well. Finally, he could bear it no longer. He rose and shoved his way through the thronging crowd to stand before Hal, swaying belligerently.
‘So you’re back,’ he said. The ill humour was obvious in his voice.
Hal eyed him carefully, not wishing to spoil the night and the mood of celebration.
‘Good evening, Tursgud,’ he said evenly. Around him, the Herons tensed, half expecting Tursgud to launch a sudden attack. He glared around their faces, sneering.
‘You’re back with your crew of cheats and liars,’ he said. Then, seeing an unfamiliar face, he added, unwisely, ‘And you brought a scullery maid back to work in your mam’s slophouse.’
Both Hal and Stig began to shove their chairs back to rise. But they were prevented from doing so by a pair of heavy hands that descended on their shoulders. Hal looked up in surprise and saw Ingvar standing behind him, peering short-sightedly at Tursgud.
‘I think I’d like to take care of this,’ Ingvar said. He stepped closer to Tursgud, leaning forward slightly, his eyes squinting half closed to see him more clearly. Tursgud stood his ground angrily, which turned out to be a mistake.
‘What are you staring at, squint eyes?’ he said, his voice a snarl.
But Ingvar said nothing. He studied the unpleasant former leader of the Sharks brotherband for several seconds. Then he took a deep breath and, remembering Thorn’s instructions, he closed his eyes. In his mind’s eye, he could see Tursgud clearly. He could sense that the other boy hadn’t moved.
‘Fallen asleep, have you?’ Tursgud sneered. ‘Well, if I were you . . .’
He never got to finish. Ingvar’s massive hand, balled into a fist, flashed up in a thundering, devastating uppercut. It caught Tursgud on the point of the jaw, picking him up and hurling him backwards for several metres. He slid across a table, collapsing it, then crashed to the ground amid the broken platters and spilt food.
‘Oh, well done, Ingvar,’ Thorn muttered, as the big boy calmly resumed his seat.
As has been said, Skandians liked good food, good ale, good sagas and a good fight. And if the good fight only lasted for one perfectly thrown punch, it left more time for the good food and good ale.
And that was so much the better.
Much later, Karina showed Lydia to a spare bedroom in her home. Hal and the rest of the crew were still enjoying themselves at the feast, but Lydia had wanted to slip away. She was used to being by herself in the forest, and too much attention could become daunting.
Karina fussed around her, turning down the bed and trimming the lamp. Lydia had already donned a soft linen nightgown. She watched the older woman as she plumped a pillow for her.
She’s really quite beautiful, Lydia thought.
Karina looked up. ‘You look very serious,’ she said, smiling.
Lydia hesitated, then said, ‘I don’t want to offend you, Karina, but I don’t think I should stay with you permanently. You and Hal, I mean.’
Karina continued to smile. She sat on the edge of the bed and took the younger girl’s hands in both of hers.
‘I understand,’ she said. ‘There’s a rather nice widow who has a place in town. Her daughter has just married and moved out. She could use the company and I think you’d like her. Would you like to me to ask her?’
Lydia nodded, looking down at her hands. ‘I would.’ She felt compelled to explain further. ‘It’s just that Hal . . . and Stig . . . you know, they’re both . . .’ She paused, not sure how to continue. Karina squeezed her hands gently.
‘It’s hard when there are two very attractive men in your life, isn’t it?’ she said. Then she added softly, ‘I know how that can be.’
Her voice had become wistful and Lydia looked up quickly. There was a long-ago look in Karina’s eyes. Then she shook herself slightly, brought herself back to the present and smiled at the girl.
‘May I give you a little advice?’ she said.
Lydia nodded. ‘Please.’
‘Don’t be in any hurry to choose between them. You’re only sixteen and there’s plenty of time for that. Besides, you never know who might come along one day.’
It hurt her to say it. She instinctively liked this girl and would have loved to think of her as a prospective daughter-in-law. But Lydia had to make up her own mind, without pressure. She was among strangers, newly arrived in a strange town and Karina didn’t want to see her gravitate to either Hal or Stig too quickly, out of the need to reach out for something familiar.
‘You don’t have to choose tomorrow – or the next day. Wait till you’re ready. Wait till you know,’ she said.
Lydia looked into her eyes and saw the honesty and the affection there.
‘Thank you,’ she said. Then Karina smiled.
‘Besides, a little uncertainty will do them both good.’
They move silent as a shadow. They climb impossible heights. Their archery skills are unsurpassed. They are Rangers – and Will is about to join their ranks. Battles against formidable foes, swordplay, nailbiting escapes and heroic journeys are only the beginning in the bestselling series that introduced the Rangers of Araluen – and the sea wolves of Skandia – to millions of readers worldwide.
Find out more at
John Flanagan’s bestselling
Ranger’s Apprentice
adventure series originally comprised twenty short stories, which John wrote to encourage his twelve-year-old son, Michael, to enjoy reading. The series has come a long way since then. Now sold to more than twenty countries, the series has sold over five million copies, regularly appears on the
New York Times
Bestseller List and has been shortlisted for children’s book awards in Australia and overseas. John, a former television and advertising writer, lives with his wife, Leonie, in the Sydney beachside suburb of Manly. He is currently writing further titles in the
Ranger’s Apprentice
and
Brotherband
series.
ALSO BY JOHN FLANAGAN
The
Ranger’s Apprentice
Series
Book One: The Ruins of Gorlan
Book Two: The Burning Bridge
Book Three: The Icebound Land
Book Four: Oakleaf Bearers
Book Five: The Sorcerer in the North
Book Six: The Siege of Macindaw
Book Seven: Erak’s Ransom
Book Eight: The Kings of Clonmel
Book Nine: Halt’s Peril
Book Ten: The Emperor of Nihon-Ja
Book Eleven: The Lost Stories
The
Brotherband
Series
Book One: The Outcasts
Book Two: The Invaders
Book Three: The Hunters
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