The Ghostfaces (24 page)

“That shouldn't be a problem,” Thorn said, and the others murmured agreement.

Hal glanced at Thorn. “Have I forgotten anything?” he asked.

The grizzled old sea wolf shook his head. “I think that covers everything. Of course, once the fight starts, a whole lot of things will happen that we haven't foreseen. It always happens that way.”

The others all regarded him solemnly. Past experience told
them that what he said was only too true. Then Stig broke the silence.

“Well, even if we get it half right, we'll make sure they won't be coming back,” he said.

“And if we get it all right,” Hal replied, “we'll make sure they won't be going home.”

chapter
thirty-eight

T
hey're coming!” Ulf shouted, his voice cracking with excitement or anxiety—or both.

It was the third day after Hal and the others had returned from their expedition upriver. Mohegas had dispatched a series of two-man teams to watch for the enemy's approach, spacing them up the river, about two or three kilometers apart. Upon seeing the fleet of canoes coming downriver, each pair of observers was to light a signal fire, then flee—either inland if they felt the Ghostfaces were too close, or downriver by canoe if they felt it was safe to do so.

The Ghosts, having paddled over a long distance, would move more slowly than a single light canoe with two paddlers and only a short distance to cover.

Now Hal saw a thin spiral of smoke rising from what was the
sixth and final observation post, on the bank of the river as it widened into the bay. He knew the river before that point stretched in a straight line for two kilometers, which meant the Ghostface fleet was now less than two kilometers away. As he had the thought, he saw the small two-man canoe streak away from the bank and head for the far beach as fast as its crew could paddle.

He, Edvin and the twins were aboard the
Heron
, moored just inside the northern headland. Each day, they had crossed the bay by canoe, bringing Kloof with them, and waited aboard the ship for the first sign of the approaching enemy. The ship itself was festooned with creepers and leafy branches to break up its outline and make it more difficult to spot. The yardarms were lowered, but ready to hoist once the Ghostface fleet of canoes had emerged from the river and were on the broad surface of the bay, where they would be vulnerable to attack from the
Heron
.

Shading his eyes against the mid-morning glare, he peered across the bay to the beach, where he saw an answering thread of smoke rising from close to the beginning of the tree line—confirmation that the signal had been received. The sentry on duty there could just be seen, running into the shadows under the trees and heading for the village to spread the warning.

“Let's get ready,” he said, and his three companions all checked their weapons. There was a sudden air of tension on board the little ship that Kloof seemed to sense. Her hackles rose around her neck and she emitted a low, whining growl.

“Steady, girl,” Hal told her, stroking the top of her head to calm her. He didn't want her barking and possibly warning the approaching enemy of their position.

“Shall we get rid of the covering, Hal?” Wulf asked, moving toward the intertwined creepers and branches that covered the ship.

Hal shook his head. “Leave it for the moment. I want all the Ghosts' canoes out on the bay before we reveal ourselves. If they sight us too soon, some of them might head back up the river and escape.”

The fast, handy canoes would make better time upriver than the
Heron
. The banks were close together, restricting the wind and making it impossible for the ship to follow a straight course. Out on the open water of the bay, it would be a different matter. Her sails would give her a considerable speed advantage over the canoes. She could swoop down on them, ramming them and smashing their fragile hulls at will.

His stomach tightened into a knot as he awaited the first sign of the enemy. It's always the way, he thought. You get the first warning and everyone's on edge immediately. Then nothing happens. He shaded his eyes again, straining to see the mouth of the river and some sign of movement there. But still, there was nothing.

• • • • • 

When the sentry had run into the village, breathlessly spreading the word of the Ghostfaces' approach, there had been an immediate bustle of activity. Thorn smiled grimly as he watched the villagers rushing here and there. There was no real need for the rush. Everyone was ready for the attack—and had been for several days now. The eight crossbows were deployed in the trees to either side of the village. Each was placed so that it had a clear sight line through the trees. There had been some debate as to whether the trees should be cut down to provide a wider angle of shot for the bows but
Thorn had vetoed the idea. The bows would be easier to spot if the trees were cut back. As it was, the first shattering impact of the bolts would seem to come from nowhere, and everywhere. And in the event that the Ghostfaces turned to attack the batteries, the close-set trees would prevent their attacking in a concerted line.

Now he watched as parents hurriedly chivvied their children into huts in the center of the village, where the young women and older tribespeople would care for them during the battle.

“No need to rush,” he murmured. “They won't be here for at least an hour.”

• • • • • 

Lydia, at the other crossbow site, echoed his thoughts. This was always the hardest part, she mused, waiting for the attack. And, like Thorn, she knew that there was still plenty of time to wait. She watched as the Mawagansett warriors began to take their places at the barricade of intertwined branches and sharpened stakes that ringed the village. She could make out Tecumsa as the young woman gathered a group of small children and led them to the relative safety of the central huts. The day prior, Tecumsa and a group of half a dozen other young women had approached Lydia.

“Will you fight the Ghostfaces?” they asked.

When she nodded confirmation, Tecumsa stepped forward. “Teach us to fight too,” she said, and the others chorused agreement.

Their faces fell as Lydia shook her head. “I can't teach you in such a short time,” she said. “And if you try to take a place at the barricade, you might well distract your warriors. They'd be concerned for you, and it might cost them their lives.”

She saw them realizing the truth of what she'd said. But they were disappointed, she could tell.

“This much I can teach you,” she said, and their eyes lit up with interest. “Arm yourselves with weapons you can handle easily. Spears would be best. They're lighter than clubs or axes, and if an enemy warrior does break through and attack you, they'll keep him at a distance.”

The girls nodded, eyes intent on her, taking note of every word she said.

“Attack in pairs if you can. Jab at them. Stab them. Use the point of the spear. Aim for their legs and thighs. It's harder to counter a stroke there. If you wound them, you'll put them out of the fight just as surely as if you kill them.”

She paused. She could see her words had sunk in. The girls' eyes were still intent on her.

“One more thing,” she said, “and this is the most important part, and the hardest.
Do not give ground.
No matter how frightened you are—and you will be frightened—no matter how fierce they appear with their skull faces and black eyes—do
not
retreat. Attack them. Go forward all the time. Scream at them. Hate them. But most of all,
attack
them. They won't be expecting it. They'll expect you to scream in fear and run away. Don't do it. Go forward. Always forward.”

She saw Tecumsa mouthing the word with her, saw the girl's jaw set and the resolve in her eyes. She's not going to run from the Ghostfaces, Lydia thought.

Now she looked at the warriors grouped around the four crossbows.

“Everyone ready?” she asked, and they chorused an affirmative. She could see they were tense and nervous and she smiled encouragement at them. “They won't be here for at least an hour,” she said. “Just relax and take it easy. There'll be plenty to do when they arrive.”

Several of the young men nodded nervously back at her and it occurred to her for the first time that she had probably been in more battles than any of them.

“We'll be fine,” she said, still smiling. “I can't wait to see those pasty-faced bogeymen when we start shooting them down.” Like Thorn, she realized the value of denigrating the enemy, of making light of their terrifying makeup. Some of the men smiled uncertainly back at her.

Stefan and Jesper, who had been assigned to accompany Lydia, nodded to her, understanding what she was doing. Stefan yawned and rested against one of the crossbows, idly twirling his ax. The massive weapon spun and caught the rays of the sun that filtered through the trees. It seemed as light as a feather in his hands. The casual demeanor of the two Skandians communicated itself to the Mawags. They had heard from Simsinnet of the skill these foreigners showed in fighting. Following their example, the tribesmen relaxed a little.

• • • • • 

Stig paced calmly behind the palisade, looking for weak points in the wooden wall where the Ghosts might penetrate. His shield was still slung over his back. From time to time he made an encouraging comment to the warriors as they stood ready, flint-headed spears and wooden clubs in their hands. Most of the men had
shields of deer hide stretched tightly across a wooden frame. Approximately one in three was armed with one of the Mawags' short, powerful bows and a quiver bristling with arrows slung over the shoulder.

“Don't waste arrows,” he said. “Wait till they're close and then shoot. And remember, when you hear the horn signal, get down.”

They nodded in reply. He saw several moistening their lips. Dry mouth, he thought. A common problem before a fight.

The horn signal he'd mentioned was an important idea Hal had added to the defense. When the crossbow batteries were about to shoot, Lydia or Thorn would sound a blast on a horn. When they heard it, the defenders were to crouch below the palisade. That way, any bolts that missed the enemy wouldn't strike down the defenders instead.

He felt a light touch on his arm and turned to see Tecumsa behind him. He smiled at her and nodded his head toward the huts.

“You should be back looking after the children,” he said gently. She smiled back. He could see she was nervous, but trying hard not to show it.

“I wanted to wish you good luck,” she said. “Stay safe, my love.”

She stood on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips. Some of the nearby warriors chuckled aloud and whistled at the show of affection. It was unusual among the Mawagansett, he knew. Her lips were soft and their touch was fleeting. But even after she had stepped back from him, he could feel their touch on his own.

“I'll be fine,” he said. “You take care of yourself.”

She smiled again, then turned and ran back into the village,
threading her way through the lines of huts until she came to one of the largest, where the children and young women were gathered. She paused at the doorway and waved a hand to him. He raised his own right hand in salute, then she slipped inside the hut and was lost to his sight.

“I'll see you when this is over,” Stig promised quietly.

• • • • • 

The time passed with agonizing slowness. Hal paced the deck of the little ship, looking constantly toward the mouth of the river. But there was still no sign of the Ghostfaces. The smoke alarm signal was already dwindling. It was now nothing more than a thin gray ribbon rising into the sky. Soon, it would be gone as the fire died down.

He looked across the bay toward the south to check on the wind for the tenth time since the Ghostfaces had been sighted. The wind was from the southwest, of course, as it had been for some time now. The first hundred meters or so of the southern part of the bay were smooth and undisturbed, sheltered by the high headlands that enclosed the bay. He could see the treetops on the bluffs swaying in the wind, however. Then, beyond that hundred-meter point, the wind eddied down and ruffled the surface of the water into a series of wavelets. He'd have plenty of wind to maneuver, he thought.

“There they are,” said Edvin, drawing Hal's attention back to the river. He felt a jolt of adrenaline as he saw the first canoes making their way onto the waters of the bay. He shook his head in disappointment as he saw that the Ghostface fleet was traveling in line astern, one canoe at a time. He'd hoped they might bunch up
and clear the river sooner. This way, the leading canoes would be almost to the far beach before the last of them emerged from the river.

“Well,” he said quietly, “Thorn and Stig will just have to take care of the first wave.”

He had no doubt that his friends could handle the Ghostfaces' attack. Even without the demoralizing effect of the eight giant crossbows on the enemy, the Skandians would provide a stiffening to the Mawags' defense. They were highly trained and skilled, and their iron weapons were superior to the flint- and stone-edged weapons of the tribespeople. All the same, it would have been a neater solution if the Ghosts had bunched up, and he could have attacked the entire fleet of canoes before any of them reached the beach.

Would have been, could have been, he mused. That was always the way when it came to a battle. Things never worked out quite the way you hoped.

He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. Ulf had moved to the main rope holding the concealing screen of creepers and branches in place.