The Lost Stories (23 page)

He counted the people he could see. Sixteen of them, and all men, he noted. And that last fact was further confirmation that this was a moondarkers' camp.

He watched for a few minutes as several of them began to prepare the evening meal. His stomach complained quietly as the delicious aroma of meat roasting over the fires wafted around him. He silently withdrew from his vantage point.

“Nothing to do here but get hungry,” he murmured to himself, and headed back to the smoke-free, roasted-meat-free camp hidden on the reverse slope. He thought about what his dinner would be: cold water, dried meat and fruit, and hard bread.

The thought didn't make him more kindly disposed toward the moondarkers.

AS WILL HAD OBSERVED, A GREAT DEAL OF A RANGER'S TIME WAS spent sitting, watching and waiting. This could go on for days, then there would be brief periods of heart-stopping action.

He and Halt alternated in the observation post, each spending three hours at a time watching the sand flats and the headland below them.

In the hours when they weren't on watch, they exercised the horses and hunted for small game. One welcome change was that Halt had decided they no longer needed to maintain a cold camp. The moondarkers were a good distance away from their campsite, with the ridge between them. Plus the Rangers had chosen a site at one of the highest points on the ridge. The chance that one of the moondarkers would walk uphill and stumble upon them was slight.

All the same, the older Ranger insisted that they could not light the fire if the wind was blowing from the north, as it might carry the smell of their wood smoke back to the enemy. It was a slim chance that they would notice it even then, as their own camp had three or four large cook fires and the smell of pine smoke was everywhere. But a slim chance was a chance, and Halt was unwilling to take it. As he said, being careful had helped him stay alive all these years and he was looking forward to maintaining that record.

This meant that Will could prepare more interesting meals for them, and that at least gave him something to do in his off-duty time. It also gave the pair of them something to look forward to in the boring schedule of watch keeping.

The schedule they had adopted meant that Halt had the last watch—when the sun had dropped behind the ridge. They'd get plenty of warning when the moondarkers were preparing to act. To avoid the risk of discovery, the moondarkers would wait till the last minute to set out their false fires and beacons. They'd do that by daylight, and until they did, there was no need to keep watch through the night.

Will took to bringing both their evening meals to the observation post. They would eat together and discuss their tactics for such time as the moondarkers might strike.

“I've been thinking,” Halt said on the third night. “We might have to look at getting some help.”

Will grinned at him. “I thought you said we could handle sixteen people easily,” he said.

Halt nodded in acknowledgment of the point. “I did say that. But it occurs to me that I'm going to need you on the headland while I'm on the beach. That might make things awkward.”

“How's that? What will I be doing on the headland?”

“You'll be attending to the beacon fire. We'll have to let them light it before we act. Until they do that, we have no proof that they're actually trying to bring a ship ashore. We need to see the ship and we need them to light the fire to lure it onto the beach.”

“The fact that they've prepared a signal won't be enough?” Will asked.

Halt shook his head, frowning. “It's not concrete proof. They could always claim they were planning a bonfire to celebrate someone's birthday. Or that they were planning to roast a pig or a sheep. We need actual proof. Unfortunately, Duncan is a bit of a stickler for that. At the same time, we have to make sure that they don't actually cause the ship to run aground.”

“So you want me to wait till they light the beacon, then I'll put it out while you arrest everyone else?” Will said.

Halt raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you have any idea how big this fire is going to be? It's not a campfire you can kick some sand over. It'll be a great stack of logs and oil and combustibles and it'll be at least two meters high. Once it's going, you won't be able to simply ‘put it out,' as you say. You'd need a bucket chain to do that—and in any case, there's no water source for half a kilometer.”

Will hadn't thought of that. “So what do I do?” he asked. In answer, Halt reached inside his jerkin and produced a small packet wrapped in oilskin, about six centimeters by three.

“You throw this in the fire,” he said.

Will took the packet and examined it. It was tightly packed, but he could feel the grainy nature of the contents as he squeezed the oilskin. It felt as if the packet was full of coarse sand.

“What is it?” he asked. Halt tapped it with his finger.

“It's a colored dye and it's highly flammable,” he said. “When you throw that in the fire, it will flare up and change the flames to some bright color—I'm not sure what it will be. They're usually yellow or red. Whatever it is, once the ship's captain sees the flames change color, he'll realize that this isn't the real beacon and he'll head back out to sea. But we'll have the proof we need.”

“All right. That makes sense. But how are you going to cope with the sixteen moondarkers on the beach while I'm doing this?” Will asked.

“I'm going to need help,” Halt said. “I'll wait till we know they're planning to strike—when they have their beacon and their lanterns and spot fires prepared—then I'm going into Hambley to confront the head of the village watch.”

“I thought you said they're probably in league with the moondarkers?”

“Not actively. They'll turn a blind eye and pick over whatever the moondarkers leave behind. On top of that, if they know we're in the area, they'd probably warn them off. But I've been keeping an eye on the village when I've been off watch, and there's been no traffic in there from the moondarkers' camp.”

“So if you go into the village at the last minute and give them no time to send a warning to the moondarkers, they can hardly refuse to help you,” Will said.

“Exactly. They might be reluctant. But they'll have to provide men from the village watch to help us. They can hardly admit to a King's Ranger that they think it might be a good idea for a ship to be wrecked on their coast.”

Will chewed his lip doubtfully. “You're putting a lot of faith in the respect people have for Rangers,” he said.

Halt inclined his head, conceding the point. “True. But I've done it before and it's never let me down in the past. These people aren't really criminals. They're desperately poor and they lead a hard life. But if they understand they can be punished for not lending us a hand, they'll come on board.”

“Of course, they could just knock you on the head and drop you off the end of the harbor mole,” Will said. Halt considered the idea.

“They could. But it's not likely. After all, I'll be prepared for them to try something like that—as unlikely as it might be. Plus they'll know there's another Ranger in the area. I'll make sure I tell them. I doubt they'll take the risk then.”

“So I throw the dye in the fire and you arrest the moondarkers on the beach. It seems we have every contingency covered,” Will said. In spite of his questioning Halt's plan, he knew how strong the aura of power and authority that surrounded a King's Ranger could be in these out-of-the-way villages.

“You never have every contingency covered,” Halt said somberly. “There's always something that can go wrong.”

He finished the last spoonful of the savory rabbit stew that Will had prepared, scraping the last vestiges out of his bowl.

“Any more?” he asked hopefully.

But Will shook his head. “Sorry. You finished the last of it.”

Halt grunted moodily. “Thought so.” He glanced at the lengthening shadows. Already, the land below them was in deep shade and the sea had taken on a silver-gray sheen. “Well, I doubt they'll be starting anything now. We might as well have coffee back at the camp.”

“That's why I stick with you,” Will said.“You're full of good ideas.”

 

The following day, the moondarkers went to work.

Will noticed the first sign that something was happening halfway through his morning watch. A horseman came pelting down the coast road below the ridge. Then, when he was level with the spot where the moondarkers' camp was situated, he turned off the road and urged his horse up a narrow, steep trail through the trees. Will quickly lost sight of him, but there was no doubt as to where his destination lay.

He scrambled out of the hide and, staying low, ran back over the ridge to tell Halt.

“Odds are there's a ship making its way toward Hambley,” Halt said. “It's standard practice for them to leave a lookout up the coast to spot any ships approaching. If that's the case, they'll be setting up their fires today.”

“What do we do?” Will asked.

Halt jerked a thumb in the direction of the moondarkers' camp. “Let's see what they're up to.”

They left the camp together, moving like wraiths through the trees, blending into the shadows and the gray-green undergrowth so that they were barely visible. An observer would have had great trouble seeing them at any distance greater than twenty meters. But such was their training and the constant practice they carried out that they moved instinctively, without thinking about what they were doing.

As they stepped through the undergrowth, their feet in their soft-soled boots sought out twigs and branches underfoot before they set weight on them. If they felt an impediment, it was quietly nudged aside with a toe, then they proceeded, letting the weight settle gently onto the extended foot so that they moved with barely a sound.

It looked simple—the way anything looks when it's the result of years of meticulous practice.

It took them half an hour to reach the vantage point from which Halt had originally observed the moondarker camp.

Will pointed to a lathered horse tied up outside one of the tents. Obviously, it belonged to the messenger who had arrived earlier. He was about to comment on their lack of care for their horses when three men emerged suddenly from the tent. One of them, a tall, black-bearded man in a leather vest and breeches, began shouting orders. The camp came alive as other tents disgorged their occupants.

They began to load the carts Halt had observed on his previous visit, stacking them with ready-cut firewood and lanterns and long willow poles. The horses were gathered in from the spot where they were tethered and harnessed between the carts' shafts. The men gathered tools and sacks of provisions. Ominously, they also buckled on swords or shoved clubs through their belts.

“We've seen enough,” Halt said. “Let's get out of here before we're noticed.”

They headed back to the concealment of their observation post. Some time after, they saw the moondarkers emerge from the forest at the bottom of the hills and move out onto the flatland adjacent to the beach.

Three of the carts were unloaded there, the men thronging around them and carrying piles of cut firewood and lengths of iron, setting them up in positions determined by their leader—the tall man in the leather vest. Will watched curiously as the man moved away from his companions, his back to the ocean, and began directing them where to build fires and set up the lengths of iron—which fitted together to form tripods. From time to time, he referred to a sheet of paper in his hands, indicating that a pile of firewood should be moved slightly in one direction, and one of the tripods be brought forward or back a little.

“What's he up to?” Will asked. Even though they were over a kilometer away, he kept his voice to a whisper.

“I'd say he's got a plan of Hambley there—how it looks from the seaward side. He probably put that together sometime in the past few days. Now he's setting up fires and lanterns on the tripods so that they'll form the same general pattern as the town itself.”

Will shook his head in reluctant admiration.“ They're thorough, I'll say that for them.”

Halt nodded. “Yes. They know what they're doing, all right. They're not beginners, more's the pity. Hullo,” he said, “that last cart's on the move. My guess is it's bound for the headland.”

Four of the men, having completed setting up a section of the town of lights, had clambered aboard the final cart, which was still laden with timber. One of them took the reins and slapped them on the horse's back. Reluctantly, the animal threw its weight against the collar holding the traces and began to move toward the headland. It was a heavy load for one small horse and they moved slowly. As they reached the slope leading to the headland, the horse made harder work of it and the urging increased.

“They'd move faster if a few of them walked,” Will commented.

Halt shook his head. “They're thieves and criminals. They always tend to look for the easy way—not the most efficient way.”

Slowly, the cart lumbered up the grassy slope to the end of the headland, until the man at the reins hauled on them to stop. The horse needed no second urging. It stopped virtually in mid-stride and stood, head hanging, turning back to stare vindictively at the men who were putting it to such hard work.

“If I were them,” Halt said, “I'd stay well out of kicking distance with that horse.”

The men dismounted from the cart and began unloading it. Most of the load was in the form of cut timber—firewood, Will guessed, judging by the regular length of the pieces. But there were several small casks and more iron rods. Finally, three of them lifted down a heavy metal basket, almost a meter across and a meter and a half high.