02 The Invaders (5 page)

“What daylight?” Stig grumbled, bleary-eyed. “I don’t see any daylight.”

“There’s plenty of it in the Eastern Steppes,” Thorn told him. Of course, far to the east, the sun would have risen hours ago. Then he smiled evilly at Stig. “And if you don’t get moving, I’ll have you seeing stars.”

He slammed the hickory baton down on the ground a few centimeters from Stig’s head. Startled, the muscular boy sprang up from his bedroll and began fumbling for his breeches. Still half asleep, he managed to trip and fall as he pulled them on. Around him other members of the crew were having the same problem. Thorn surveyed them, shaking his head in disgust.

“What a bunch of doddering old biddies you are!” His eye fell on Hal, who was on hands and knees, searching for his clothes, unaware that they were hidden under the blankets that Thorn had dragged off him. He yawned, then the yawn turned into a yelp as Thorn gave him a none-too-gentle rap on the behind with the hickory baton.

“And you’re the skirl!” Thorn said scornfully. “You should be leading the way, not blundering round on your hands and knees like a dozy old badger! Up! Up! Up!”

Within a few minutes, the Herons were standing in a ragged line outside the tent, some of them still fastening their pants and jackets, all of them tousle-haired and shivering in the cold, dim morning. The faint glow on the treetops was now a much more defined red. Stefan looked back enviously at his warm bed. In spite of Ulf’s predictions that he’d freeze in his drafty new spot, he’d slept soundly and blissfully, until Thorn’s insane yelling and banging had startled him awake.

Thorn, infuriatingly jovial and depressingly wide-awake, surveyed the sniffing, shuffling group.

“Gorlog’s bleached and broken bones but you’re a sorry lot!” he boomed. “You’d strike fear into any pirate’s heart—once he stopped laughing. Now, let’s get warmed up! Jump! Jump and clap your hands over your head. Come on!”

Reluctantly, they began to jump in place, slapping their hands together over their heads as they did so. Thorn strode down the line behind them, exhorting them to greater efforts with a stream of abuse and judicially placed whacks with the hickory baton.

Stig, next in line to Hal, muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he leapt in the air and clapped his hands.

“I think I preferred him when he was an old drunk. This rehabilitated Thorn is a bit hard to… OW!”

The exclamation was wrung out of him as Thorn, who had approached without Stig’s being aware of it, put a little extra venom into a whack across his behind. Stung by the blow, Stig leapt somewhat higher than he had planned to, and Thorn chuckled.

“That’s the way, Stiggy boy! Higher and harder! Show the others how to do it!”

Stig bit back an angry retort and continued to leap and clap. As he did so, he realized that already he was warming up. The blood was flowing freely through his legs and arms and warming his extremities. And, as he breathed deeply with the exercise, the oxygen he was dragging into his lungs was driving the sleepiness away.

Beside him, Hal grinned at him unsympathetically. People always find it amusing when they see a friend suffering, Stig thought.

“Serves you right for talking… OW! OW!”

Hal was sure that Thorn had moved away from behind them. Now he realized that the shabby old sea wolf had sneaked back, unnoticed. Not for the first time, he marveled at how quietly and quickly Thorn could move these days.

“Should be setting a better example, skirl!” Thorn guffawed.

Some of the other Herons laughed as well. Ruefully rubbing his stinging behind, Hal reflected on Thorn’s tactics. By punishing
the skirl, he made sure that there could be no charges of favoritism leveled at him. And it definitely raised the spirits of the others to see Hal leap in shock—just as it had cheered him when it happened to Stig.

Thorn moved down the line, pausing behind Ingvar. The huge boy was barely leaving the ground. His face was set in determined lines and he tried to hurl himself higher from the ground with each leap. It was his sheer size that was keeping him earthbound. But he was
trying
. Thorn watched him approvingly for several seconds, nodding to himself. There was a lot of value in Ingvar, he thought, shortsighted or not. Ingvar’s sense of loyalty to Hal meant he was always first to volunteer when there was a task to be done.

“Don’t hit me, Thorn,” Ingvar said, some sixth sense warning him that Thorn was behind him. “I’m jumping as high as I can.”

“I can see that, Ingvar,” Thorn said softly. He moved on, casually flicking the hickory baton at Ulf’s backside as he went.

“Ow!” Ulf cried. “What did you do that for?” He’d been jumping and clapping his hands as high and hard as he could.

“My mistake,” Thorn said. “I thought you were your brother.”

“Oh. That’s all right then,” Ulf replied.

Thorn frowned, wondering at the twisted logic in the statement. Finally, he rounded the end of the line of leaping, clapping boys and moved to stand before them.

“That’s enough!” he yelled and, gratefully, they stopped their leaping and cavorting. A few of them leaned forward, resting their hands on their knees to breathe deeply. There were one or two coughs from the line of boys.

“You really have let yourselves go, haven’t you?” Thorn chided
them. There was no answer. The boys were embarrassed to realize that he was right. It had been several weeks now since they had been subjected to this sort of rigorous exercise, whereas during their brotherband training it had been a daily event. Even during the run down the coast in the
Heron
, they hadn’t had to row. They’d had a constant wind on the beam the whole time.

“Very well,” Thorn continued. He pointed down the long, curving beach that ran along the edge of the bay. “It’s time for a run.”

The boys looked in the direction he was pointing and groaned. The beach was almost two kilometers long.

“Down and back,” he said. “Right to the far end. And you see that nice, firm sand along the water’s edge?”

He waited until they looked and then nodded that yes, they could see it.

“Well, we’re not going to run in that, are we? We’re going to run in that nasty, soft, dry sand above the high watermark. Much better for us.”

“Us?” Stefan queried. “Are you coming too?”

Thorn regarded him, a light of amusement in his eyes. “Well, now, what do you think?”

Stefan shrugged resignedly. “I think you’re staying here.”

“And who said you were slow on the uptake?” Thorn replied. Then he made a shooing gesture at them. “Off you go. And remember, no walking. I’ll be watching you all the way.”

The boys turned and set off in a ragged group, Jesper quickly moving to the lead. As they straggled away, Thorn barked out a command.

“Edvin! Not you! Back here!”

Edvin dropped out of the group and walked back to where Thorn stood, his head tilted curiously.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, eyeing Thorn’s hickory baton warily.

Thorn shook his head. “Not at all. Get a fire started. Make tea and get some bacon and bread ready for them when they get back. They’ll need a good breakfast.”

There was a warmth and a level of concern in his voice that belied his previous uncaring manner as he’d stalked along the line of leaping, clapping boys. Edvin, placing dry kindling in a pyramid stack in the fireplace, watched the old warrior shrewdly.

“You’re not really as mean as you make out, are you?”

Thorn eyed him coldly. “Oh yes, I am,” he replied. “And you’ll find out just how mean I can be if you tell anyone otherwise.”

Sometime later, the Heron brotherband straggled back into the campsite. They had strung out during the run. Jesper was well in the lead when they returned and Thorn noticed that the boy was barely breathing hard. Ulf, Stefan and Wulf came in next, and finally Hal and Stig arrived, each one holding an arm of the lumbering Ingvar. Thorn pursed his lips. A shame, he thought. Ingvar was so big and powerful and he had enormous reserves of strength. It was his poor vision that was holding him back. It made him clumsy because he was constantly worried about losing his balance. He could see just enough to make him fearful.

Thorn rapped the baton on his leg. Maybe there was something he could do about that, he thought.

Then, absentmindedly, he rapped a little harder than he’d intended.

“Ow!” he muttered, making a mental note not to do that again. He glanced up and saw that several of the Herons, now tucking into hot bread and bacon, were grinning at him. He scowled and the grins disappeared.

But he knew those grins were still there, below the surface, and he was glad of the fact. He didn’t want them cowed and resentful. He needed to build their spirits and help them regain the esprit de corps they had lost during the long, boring days in camp.

He beckoned Edvin over. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked.

Edvin shook his head. “I’ve been busy serving the food out. I was just about to.”

“Then put it to one side to stay warm. It’s your turn for a run now.”

Edvin looked stricken. “But I’m the cook!” he protested.

“Yes, you are. And if you find yourself facing some bloodthirsty pirate intent on separating you from your head, I’m sure you can tell him that.”

He paused while Edvin assessed that and slowly nodded grudging agreement.

“I see your point,” he said.

Thorn patted him on the shoulder. “Besides, this way you can see that I
am
really as mean as I make out,” he said. Then he ruined the effect of that statement by pointing to a small grove of trees halfway down the beach.

“No need to run the whole way. Just to those trees and back. Then you can have your breakfast.”

Edvin turned away, then turned back again.

“Thorn,” he said, “don’t worry. I won’t be telling anyone that you’re not mean.”

“Does my heart good to hear it,” Thorn told him. Then he made that same shooing motion and Edvin set off down the beach, watched curiously by the other boys. They had finished eating and were leaning back, relaxing, as they drained the last of their hot tea. The relaxation didn’t last long as Thorn chivvied them to their feet.

“All right! More work to do! Wash and clean up the camp. Someone take care of Edvin’s gear, then be back here in fifteen minutes! Bring your saxe knives.”

The boys quickly went to work, washing in the chilly waters of a stream that ran out of the woods and down to the bay, then setting the campsite to rights. By the time Edvin had returned and eaten his delayed breakfast, they were grouped around Thorn. He looked thoughtfully at Hal.

“This contraption you’re working on,” he said, nodding toward Hal’s workshop tent. Hal nodded. “Is it important, or is it just some highfalutin idea—like that running water system you built in your mam’s kitchen?”

Hal sighed. “Am I ever going to live that down?”

Thorn pushed out his bottom lip thoughtfully, then looked at Stig. “What do you think, Stig?”

The tall boy shook his head. “I shouldn’t think so,” he replied.

“Me either,” Thorn said. He turned back to Hal. “Well, what do you say?”

Hal gave both his friends a resigned look before he answered. “This one is worthwhile,” he said. “It could give us an edge over Zavac and his men when we catch up with them.”

Thorn nodded, satisfied. “In that case, get on with it. I suppose you need Ingvar?”

“Yes. He’s been helping me with it.”

Thorn looked at Ingvar and gestured with his thumb. “All right, Ingvar, you stay and help Hal. The rest of you come with me.”

“What are we doing?” Ulf asked.

“We’re gathering vines and young beech saplings to make rope. Lots of rope.”

“Why do we want lots of rope?” Wulf asked, and his brother scowled at him. He had been going to ask that question.

“Because when you make a net, you need lots of rope,” Thorn replied. Then, seeing several mouths open, he forestalled the next question. “And don’t anyone ask why we need a net.”

chapter
five

E
rak and Svengal watched the waves surging through Hallasholm’s narrow harbor mouth. Where they smashed against the protective rock walls on either side, white spray exploded high in the air. The two sea wolves heard the deep boom of the waves as they broke, and felt the impact as a dull vibration underfoot. The unbroken section of each wave that passed through the entrance swept across the harbor until it hit the solid quay. For a second, that wave would seem to gather itself, then it would heave up and green water would surge over the quay, up to a meter deep, only smashing itself into spray when it hit the inland retaining wall.

The wind was remorseless, blowing in from the southwest and keening through the masts and rigging of the ships hauled up to safety on the beach, well above the high watermark. There was a constant rattle of loose halyards as they snapped back and forth against the masts.

Wolfwind
, Erak’s wolfship, was on the beach. Sensing that the weather was going to deteriorate further, Svengal had moved her from her customary position against the quay, opposite the harbor
entrance. The surging waves there now made it too dangerous for the ship. No matter how many wicker fenders they might put along her sides to protect her from the quay wall, in this sort of weather, they’d soon be mashed and splintered, and then the hull itself would begin to take the damage.