Brotherband 3: The Hunters (34 page)

She shook her head, gesturing for him to explain. He did so, enunciating his words with exaggerated care.

‘The ship moves,’ he said. ‘Particularly if it’s tied up alongside in calm water. It rocks.’

Lydia shrugged. ‘Yeah, but . . . not very much, surely?’

‘It doesn’t have to rock very much. These men are sailors, experienced sailors. They know what it feels like if somebody steps aboard.’

‘Well,’ said Lydia, frowning, ‘couldn’t you step aboard so that it doesn’t rock?’

Jesper leaned back in his seat, looking at her for several seconds. Finally, he turned to Hal. ‘Do you want to take that one?’ he asked.

Hal held up his hands in a gesture for peace. He could see that Jesper’s reaction had annoyed Lydia, just as her question had annoyed him.

‘It’s not possible, Lydia. They’ll be on the alert now they know we’re in Raguza. Just as we’ll be. If we felt the
Heron
move in the middle of the night, we’d all notice it and we’d know what was happening.’ He looked thoughtful, then turned to Jesper. ‘What if you got on board over the bow or the stern? If you were in the middle of the ship, it wouldn’t rock, would it?’

‘Maybe not,’ Jesper agreed reluctantly. ‘But how do you propose that I get onboard over the stern? I’d have to jump from the jetty to reach it and that’d be sure to set the ship moving.’

‘I was thinking you could approach from the harbourside, not the jetty side. If you swam out . . .’

He got no further before Jesper stopped him. ‘Hold it right there! I don’t swim, remember?’

‘No, but we could organise a way for you to float out . . .’

‘We did that before, at the beach gate in Limmat, didn’t we? You nearly drowned me.’

‘But I’d come with you this time –’

‘You came with me that time! You nearly drowned both of us. Sorry, Hal, but I’m not going drifting round the harbour in the middle of the night.’ He studied Hal’s face and could see that his skirl was close to abandoning the idea. He added the final argument. ‘Besides, let’s say we managed it and I hauled myself up over the stern without rocking the boat. Can you imagine the noise I’d make with the water dripping off me back into the harbour?’

‘Yes. I suppose you’re right,’ Hal said heavily. But Jesper was only just warming to his theme.

‘And even if I did manage to make it on board undetected,
Raven
has – what, fifty men in her crew? Even if half of them were ashore, I’d have to sneak past twenty or thirty men on an open deck, then find the access hatch to Zavac’s sleeping cabin. Then get in and hope he wasn’t snoozing away in there. And
then
, finally, I’d have to do it all again on the way out. Sorry, Hal. I don’t think it can be done.’

For a few moments, the four of them sat, disconsolately staring at the table and the remnants of the meal in front of them. A waiter came and cleared it away and still they sat in silence, thinking over Jesper’s words. The waiter looked at them curiously, then returned with the reckoning.

Hal paid it. He had sold a second emerald to a gem trader in the city, to provide funds for the crew. Surprisingly for someone in a pirate haven, the trader had given him a very fair price.

Then again, he thought, maybe it wasn’t so surprising. Cheating people who made their living killing and robbing others was probably not a good career move.

They left the eating house, emerging onto a broad, well-lit street that wound back down to the harbour. For a moment, they stood uncertainly. Then Hal broke the downcast silence that had settled over them.

‘I guess we’ll have to find another way.’

Jesper hunched his shoulders, shoving his hands through his belt. ‘Sorry, Hal. I just don’t think I could pull it off.’

Hal slapped him on the back. ‘Not your fault, Jesper. We’ll come up with something else.’

They started down the street towards the harbour. They had gone fifty metres when they passed the dark mouth of a narrow alley running off to the left. As they did, Lydia stopped, her head cocked to one side.

‘What was that?’ she said. The three boys all looked at her, puzzled.

‘What?’ Stig asked. But she held up her hand for silence and this time they all heard it. A faint voice from the alley, weak and high-pitched.

‘Hal! Help m–’ The voice was cut off suddenly, as if a hand had been suddenly clamped over the speaker’s mouth.

‘Was that Edvin?’ Jesper asked. The voice was distorted and weak. But whoever it was had called Hal by name. It had to be one of their crew. They all reached the same decision at the same moment.

‘Come on!’ said Hal and led them in a rush into the narrow alley. It was pitch black after the brightly lit main street, but in a minute or two their eyes became accustomed to the darkness. They ran deeper into the alley but there was no further sound. Edvin, if it had been Edvin, had been silenced. Hal’s mouth went dry as he wondered what had happened to his crewman.

Stig, who had taken the lead from Hal, suddenly called out angrily and they heard him collide with something and stagger back. Peering closely, Hal saw that the alley ended in a blank wall. Stig had run headlong into it and was nursing a cut on his forehead, cursing quietly. Hal’s hand dropped to the hilt of his saxe.

‘I don’t like the look of this,’ he said. He realised now that they had been tricked. They should never have run pell-mell into the darkness of this alley, not knowing who or what might be waiting for them.

‘Stay close, everyone,’ he said and the small group instinctively moved closer together. Stig had stopped his swearing now. He mopped a trickle of blood away from his eyes and quietly drew his saxe. The muted sound of steel sliding against leather and wool was strangely comforting.

They faced back the way they had come. The entrance to the alley was no longer visible. It had taken a sharp curve halfway in. But now they saw a shaft of light suddenly illuminate the dark, narrow space twenty metres away. A door in one of the buildings lining the alley had opened, emitting bright lamplight from inside.

It emitted something else as well. Dark figures emerged from the doorway and moved towards them – armed men, silhouetted by the yellow light behind them.

‘I guess it wasn’t Edvin,’ Hal said.

‘Backs to the wall, everyone.’ Stig’s voice was calm and steady. He was always at his best when violent action was imminent, Hal thought. Hal and Jesper drew their saxes. Lydia already had her long, razor-sharp dirk ready. The four of them shuffled carefully backwards, until they felt the rough brickwork behind them. At least now, Hal thought, they were safe from attack from the rear.

Although ‘safe’ might not be the best word for this situation. He could see now that the shadowy figures of the men advancing down the alley were armed with a selection of swords, clubs and axes. Armed only with saxes and a dirk, the Herons were at a big disadvantage.

‘So much for the “no weapons in the town” rule,’ Jesper muttered bitterly. ‘I always knew that obeying the law would get me into trouble some day.’

S
tig watched through slitted eyes as the men slowly advanced on the small group of Herons. Without thinking about it, he had assumed command. This was his area of expertise, after all. He was the warrior among them and he was bigger, stronger and faster than Hal or Jesper. It was up to him to lead the defence.

The gang paused uncertainly. They were only a few metres away now and Stig realised what was going through their minds. Like any rabble, they were all waiting for someone else to take the lead, to make a decision. He recalled something Thorn had told him, during one of their private training sessions.

Take the attack to the enemy. Take the initiative. If you wait for them to come to you, you’re giving them control of the situation.

The eight men couldn’t seem to decide who would launch the first attack. So Stig decided for them. With a loud cry that rang off the stone walls enclosing them, he leapt forward at the nearest swordsman, swinging his saxe in a backhanded stroke.

The saxe was heavy-bladed and razor-sharp, almost a short sword rather than a knife. The thug saw Stig coming at him, his shape blurry in the dim light, and instinctively raised his sword to parry the blow. The two blades rang together and shrieked against each other as Stig’s saxe slid down to the sword’s crosspiece. Instinctively, the other seven attackers had faltered and stepped back in the face of Stig’s unexpected advance. Nobody expected one man to attack eight.

Stig had been counting on that element of surprise and shock. With his blade locked against the sword, he grabbed the swordsman’s right hand with his left, twisting it down and around, bending the wrist back. The man howled in pain and inadvertently leaned forward to try to lessen the twisting pressure on his wrist. As he did so, Stig headbutted him in the face and jerked his wrist one more time.

The sword clattered to the ground. Stig put his shoulder into the man’s chest and sent him reeling back into two of his companions, then bent and scooped up the fallen sword.

The entire sequence of actions took less than two seconds.

Stig retreated now, the sword weaving and darting in front of him like the head of a snake. The gang, their number reduced by one, stood uncertainly. The game had changed. They had set out to attack four virtually unarmed teenagers. Now one of them had a sword and he looked as if he knew how to use it. And while they knew that one man could never hope to match seven, they also knew that if they did attack, there was a good chance that some of them would be injured, or even killed. None of them wanted to be in that number.

Then Vargas, who was among them, took control. His harsh voice lashed them like a whip.

‘Come on! He’s one man! Not even that, he’s a boy! If we come at him from three sides, we can finish him!’

Stig sensed a stirring in the gang as a sense of resolution passed through them. Then Vargas, sensing it as well, yelled the command.

‘Get him!’

The seven men, with Vargas safely in the rear, surged forward in a semi-circle, attempting to envelop Stig. The first man to move had taken two paces when Stig’s sword darted out and back. The thug clutched at his chest, a surprised look on his face, then crumpled to his knees. But Stig wasn’t watching him anymore. He knew he’d struck a fatal blow. Now he whirled the sword in a flashing circle and cut at a man on his left. The man parried the blow but was staggered by the power behind it.

Knowing he posed no more threat for a few seconds, Stig reversed his cut and sliced the arm of another with the flashing sword. The man’s hand opened and his club clattered to the cobblestones. Yet another attacker had gone wide to Stig’s right, and he slid in now, a short spear ready to lunge under the Skandian’s guard. As he drew it back, he felt an intense flame of agony in his leg as Lydia’s dirk stabbed deep into his thigh.

Jesper and Hal had noticed that the attackers were getting in their own way, hampering each other and leaving Stig free to slash and lunge at any of them who came close. The two of them stayed back, ready to guard Stig’s rear, as Lydia had just done, but leaving the brunt of the fighting to Stig. Hal watched carefully. He knew Stig would eventually tire. He couldn’t keep up this whirlwind pace indefinitely. He watched for any sign of Stig’s slowing down, ready to take the sword from his friend and carry on the fight whenever it might be necessary.

But it never was.

Suddenly the dark alley rang and reverberated with a terrible sound – a roaring sound that combined rage and bloodlust and uncontrolled fury. A huge figure emerged from the shadows behind the remaining five men. There was a sickening, crunching thud as Vargas, in the rear, turned to see what was happening and was struck by a massive studded club. He fell to the filthy cobbles, stunned.

Thorn kept coming, his massive club-hand rising and falling, then sweeping from side to side, smashing ribs and skulls and arms as he scattered the gang, spilling them like ninepins before him.

And all the time, he kept up that dreadful, wordless war cry.

Stig stepped back, grinning, and grounded his sword, leaning both hands on the hilt. He could tell he wasn’t needed any more as Thorn went through the remaining members of the gang like a battering ram. One of the gang managed to evade him and ran from the alley as if a fiend from the netherworld was after him. Thorn sent another reeling with a casual backhanded sweep of the club. The remaining attacker, trapped between Thorn and his four friends, faced the fearsome, berserking Skandian, holding his heavy war mace protectively in front of him.

Later, recalling the moment, Hal would swear that he saw Thorn’s eyes flash with red fire. The shabby old sea wolf, transformed into a terrible and terrifying instrument of violence, simply lunged the club-hand in a straight-armed punch at the terrified thug. It hit him in the chest and hurled him backwards. Hal and Lydia stepped smartly to one side as the man flew between them, smashing into the brick wall with a sickening sound, then sliding to the ground as his knees gave way.

‘Well, Thorn,’ said Stig in the sudden silence. ‘How very nice to see you.’ He dropped the sword and it rang briefly on the cobbles.