Beneath the walkway and backed up against the western rock wall, single-story buildings provided sleeping, eating and living quarters for the men assigned to the fort. They were well sealed against the wind and heated by open fireplaces. Erak had decreed that if men were to be posted here, high in the mountains in the snow and wind, they should be kept as comfortable as possible.
On the opposite wall, there were more buildings. These were stables and storage rooms and workrooms for the smith and armorer.
These interior details weren’t immediately apparent to the approaching Herons—although Hal was aware of them, having been briefed by Erak—but one major feature of the fort was.
An angled roof, covered in timber shingles, projected above the northeast wall, reaching back to cover the interior space of the walkway and the ground below. This had been added to the original structure after the last major Temujai incursion into Skandian territory. At that time, the walls and walkway had been uncovered, other than by canvas screens to keep off the worst of the weather. The deficiency in this design had been exposed when Temujai archers dismounted and clawed their way up the stone walls farther up the valley, then began to pour a storm of arrows down onto the exposed garrison. The Skandians lost most of their men that way, and the reduced numbers who were left were not sufficient to hold off a determined Temujai assault on the wall. The riders from the east had broken through, slaughtered the remainder of the garrison, and poured across the border in their hundreds. The angled timber roof was designed to stop a similar attack.
The gate opened as the little cavalcade drew near. Hal could see faces high above them peering over the log walls, studying them curiously. He guessed that, in addition to the cold and bleak weather, the isolation in this post would be one of the major hardships. Boredom would be a big problem, particularly as it would tend to blunt the edge of the garrison’s alertness. Life here would be a monotonous sequence of one day following another, with no difference other than changes in the weather conditions. But then, when the men guarding the border least expected it, the Temujai would mount a sudden raid to test their vigilance and the boredom would be replaced by an adrenaline rush of fear and alarm.
As Hal had been observing the fort, his horse had taken the opportunity to stop, lowering his head and pawing at the snow in the hope of finding a scrap of green to tear up and chew. Seeing Jake stop, Barney had done the same. Hal nudged Jake with his heels and set him moving again, leading the way through the open gate, feeling the eyes on his small party as he came to a halt in the center of the cleared ground inside the fort. He glanced around and saw a tall, gray-haired man descending a ladder from the southern walkway. Hal recognized him as a fellow skirl and brotherband leader called Leks Longshanks. He held up a hand in greeting.
“Leks!” he called. “Good to see you.”
Leks hurried across to shake hands. “And you,” he replied, then he looked at the two carts and the people sprawled comfortably on them. “I see you’ve brought your brotherband with you. Are you here to relieve us?”
This last was said with a puzzled frown. The normal strength of a brotherband was thirty men. Leks knew the Herons, having a much smaller ship, numbered only ten, which wasn’t enough to garrison the border crossing.
Hal shook his head. “No. You’ll have to wait for your normal relief. That’ll be . . . in eight days, won’t it?”
Leks nodded. “That’s right. Villi Whitebeard and the Wolfpaw’s brotherband are due to relieve us. So, what are you doing here?”
Hal dismounted. Beside him, Stig did the same. The young skirl stretched and moved his legs to relieve the stiffness of several hours’ riding.
“Erak wanted us to check out the defenses here.” He gestured to the two carts, now parked in the fort’s courtyard. “We’ve brought you some new weapons, as well.”
Leks smiled. “They’ll be welcome.” He nodded a greeting now to Hal’s companions. “Stig, Thorn, welcome to Fort Ragnak,” he said, using the official name for the fort. It had been named for Erak’s immediate predecessor, who had led the Skandians against the Temujai during that previous invasion and lost his life in a berserker attack on the riders from the east, saving the life of the Araluen princess, who had been helping with the defense of Hallasholm. Paradoxically, Ragnak had planned to execute the girl once the battle was done.
“Lovely spot you have here.” Thorn grinned, taking in the bleak rock walls, with patches of snow still evident in pockets and crevices.
Leks followed the look. “Best thing about it is we’ll be leaving soon,” he said. Then he shrugged. “Actually, it’s not all bad. The beds are soft, the rooms are warm and the food is very good.”
“That’s nice to know,” Stig said cheerfully. The tall first mate could put up with a lot of inconvenience if he were kept well-fed.
Leks regarded him speculatively. “If you’re going to be here for a few days, I’m glad we’ll be leaving soon,” he said. “I’m not sure the food will last.”
“We’ve brought supplies with us,” Hal interposed. “Erak knows Stig’s reputation for eating.”
Stig smiled, not the slightest bit offended by these references to his prodigious appetite. “Speaking of which, when’s lunch?” he asked.
Leks raised his eyebrows. “Lunch? It’s barely past the eleventh hour!”
Stig shook his head. “Somewhere in the world, it’s well past lunchtime,” he told the garrison commander.
Leks relented. “Very well. Get your horses and carts into the barn there and unload your gear. I’ll get you settled into your rooms and then—”
“Lunch,” said Stig, before the other man could finish his sentence.
Leks sighed. “As you say. Lunch,” he agreed.
* * *
• • • • •
The meal was excellent, as Leks had predicted it would be. Among the other comforts provided in the fort, Erak ensured there was a constant stream of good chefs and first-rate provisions for them to work with. Edvin was particularly appreciative as he pushed his chair back and rested his hands on his slightly distended stomach.
“It always tastes better when someone else does the cooking,” he said, to no one in particular. Edvin was an excellent chef himself and was in charge of providing meals for the Heron’s crew when they were at sea or traveling overland—as they were at the moment. Having someone else to do the job for him was a welcome change.
Stig grinned at him. “I always have someone else do the cooking,” he said. He was demolishing his third large helping of a savory mutton-and-potato stew that the cook had provided for them, tearing off a chunk of crusty fresh bread to mop up the remaining gravy.
“And that’s a full-time job,” Edvin replied, looking forward to the ensuing days at Fort Ragnak when he wouldn’t have to provide food for the seemingly insatiable first mate.
Hal glanced around the table, making sure that the crew had finished their meal. It was time to get them to work, he knew. If he allowed them to sit here relaxing, half of them would fall asleep and the other half would sink into a semi-waking torpor.
“Jesper, Stefan, start getting the timber for the two platforms sorted out,” he ordered briskly.
For a moment, Jesper looked ready to demur. But then he saw the grim look in his skirl’s eyes, and the watchful expression on Thorn’s face, ready for any argument. He sighed and pushed back his bench from the table. “Come on, Stefan,” he said, in a long-suffering tone. “Seems we get to do all the work while the others relax.”
The two of them donned their sheepskin jackets, gloves and watch caps—Stefan’s new cap had been completed by Edvin—and shoved open the door to the courtyard. The wind swirled into the room as they did so, causing the fire to flare up momentarily. Then they shut the door behind them and trudged across to the storage rooms, where the precut timber was piled inside, out of the weather.
Back in the communal eating room, Hal caught Leks’s eye. “We might as well take a look and see where we can site the two platforms,” he said, and the tall man nodded agreement. Over the meal, Hal had explained his idea to build shooting platforms for the two manglers.
Leks had greeted the idea enthusiastically. “Anything to catch those damn Temujai on the hop,” he said. He rose now and, gesturing for Hal to follow him, led the way to the door.
Hal paused and turned back to Thorn. “You coming, Thorn?”
The old sea wolf, who had claimed a seat at the end of the table near the roaring fire, shook his head and smiled beatifically.
“I’m sure you and Hal can manage without me,” he said. “I’ll make sure the fire doesn’t go out. That’s an important job.”
chapter four
Let’s take a look up the valley first,” Hal suggested. Leks led the way to a flight of stairs running up to the northeast walkway. When they reached the top, Hal leaned his elbows on the sharpened tops of the pine logs, which formed a natural set of crenellations to partially conceal the defenders, and studied the land below him.
The rock-walled valley they were in continued for thirty or forty meters, then gradually began to widen—although the steep walls remained as forbidding as ever. As more level ground became available, the ubiquitous pine trees had taken hold, fringing the open area of the path and even gaining footholds on the steep rock sides of the pass. The dark green branches were covered in thick layers of snow.
Hal indicated them. “Has it been snowing lately?”
Leks shrugged. “It snows a lot, even at this time of year,” he said. “We’re pretty high up. The last fall was two nights ago.”
“I guess that makes it hard to see if the Temujai are on the move,” Hal said. The flat ground in the center of the pass was kept clear, with the trees concentrated on the sides, close to the walls. But in a blizzard, he guessed, enemy troops could approach without being seen.
“Yes. Anytime there’s a heavy fall, we stand to, just in case. Sometimes those wily devils will have a crack at us.”
“Have you had any serious attempts to break through?” Hal asked.
The garrison commander shook his head. “No. It’s more in the nature of nuisance raids—aimed to keep us guessing and to ruin our sleep. We can’t see around that bend in the valley about two hundred meters out.” He indicated a point where the widening valley made a sharp turn past an elbow in the rock wall. “They could be massing on the other side and we’d never know—unless the wind was from the north.”
Hal frowned at the last statement. “Why would that make a difference?”
“Noise. When there’s a few hundred of their horses gathered together, they can’t keep them perfectly still. The jingling of harness and the stamping of hooves carries on the wind and gives us some warning.”
“Well, Erak suggested that Lydia might go out and take a look around,” he said. “See if the Temujai are out there in any numbers.”
“Lydia? The girl who’s with you?” Leks said, surprised. “Is that safe? There could be a couple of hundred Temujai in that valley for all we know. What if they see her?”
“She’s pretty good at not being seen,” said a voice behind them. “Or heard.”
Startled, Leks whirled around to find Lydia standing a few meters away. She had followed them out of the dining room and, seeing them mounting the stairs to the rampart, decided to join them. But, as usual, she moved silently so that Leks had no idea she was within earshot.
Hal grinned at the commander now. “I think she’ll be all right.”
Lydia leaned over the parapet, examining the exterior of the log wall. “How do I get out?” she asked. “Do you have any kind of wicket gate?”
A wicket gate was a small gate set into the main gate, allowing access for one or two people at a time.
Leks shook his head. “It’d weaken the main structure,” he said. “And we never open the big gate unless we’re sure there are no enemies in the vicinity. We’ll put over a rope ladder for you, if that’s all right?”
Somehow, he knew it would be. The girl had an athletic build and she moved easily.
Lydia pursed her lips. “That’ll be fine,” she said, then turned to Hal. “It’s a bit late in the day now. I’ll go out tomorrow before dawn.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Hal said. In the uncertain predawn light, she’d be able to leave the fort and reach the cover of the trees without being seen. Then she’d have a full day to scout the surrounding countryside. “In the meantime,” he said to Leks, “let’s find somewhere to build those platforms.”
They turned back toward the stairway. Lydia remained leaning on the parapet.
“Coming with us, Lydia?” Hal asked.
She shook her head. “That’s your line of work. I’ll stay here and study the lay of the land.”
They descended the stairs and made their way across the courtyard. There was a small wicket gate set into the south wall, where the need for security wasn’t as pressing. Leks led the way through—the gate wasn’t wide enough for two people abreast—and they strode briskly down the pass, peering at the walls. Fifteen meters away from the fort, Leks stopped and pointed up at the rock wall to the east.
“I thought there,” he said. “See that small ledge, above the sapling growing out of the rock? It’ll give you a start on building. You can anchor your platform there and support the outer edge with timber props.”
Hal narrowed his eyes, studying the spot. “Yes. That should do nicely,” he said. The ledge was a meter and a half wide, enough to provide solid support for the platform. “What about the other side?”
Leks led the way farther down the pass, then stopped again, pointing to the western wall.
“Up there. It’s higher than the other one, but it’ll give you a good field of view up the pass beyond the fort.”
This ledge wasn’t as wide as the first one, but it would offer enough support for the platform. As Leks said, it was a little higher, being some ten meters above ground level. But that meant it would have a clear view over the fort walls and up the pass into Temujai territory.
Hal glanced at the sky. The sun had already crossed over from its highest point and the lower reaches of the valley were in shadow.
“Still a few hours of daylight left,” he said. “I’ll get to work marking out the positions for the props.”
Returning to the fort, he loaded his tools and a portable workbench into the bed of one of the carts, along with several coils of rope. Then he ordered Ulf and Wulf to tail onto the shafts and wheel the cart down the valley.
“What are we? Horses?” Ulf complained good-humoredly. In truth, the lightly laden cart wasn’t difficult to tow.
Hal grinned at him. “No. Horses are smart.”
Wulf snorted disdainfully. “I’m smarter than a horse,” he claimed.
His brother couldn’t resist replying. “So how come you’re out here, pulling a cart in the wind and the cold, while the horses are tucked up in a nice warm stable?”
Wulf missed the obvious rejoinder, that his brother was out here with him and so wasn’t as smart as a horse either. He often missed the obvious, Hal noted.
“I still say I’m smarter than a horse!” Wulf said.
Ulf eyed him sideways. “I knew a horse once that could count to eighteen.”
Wulf’s reply was immediate. “I can count to eighteen!”
“Yes. But he did it with his hooves,” Ulf replied triumphantly.
Wulf frowned, not sure how to take that comment. Hal was a little mystified by it himself, but Ulf seemed inordinately pleased with himself and Hal guessed that in the ongoing, nonsensical world of conversation between the twins, Ulf had just scored a winning point.
“Need some help?” Stig said, jogging up to join them. He’d seen the party leaving the f
ort and thought Hal might be able to use a hand as he marked out the structure for the platforms.
Hal smiled appreciatively. Things would go faster with another pair of hands to measure and mark out the footings—particularly as they would be doing the work ten to fifteen meters above the ground. “Some sensible conversation would be good,” the skirl said.
Stig, glancing at the twins, with Wulf’s lips moving silently as he searched for a suitably scathing reply to Ulf’s last comment, grinned. “I know what you mean.”
They set up at the site of the first ledge. Hal donned a leather toolbelt with a hammer thrust through one loop and a hand pickax through another. A pouch at the front of the belt held a supply of iron pins. Stig slung a coil of rope around his shoulders and the two friends scrambled up the rock face, finding hand- and footholds easily. They had grown up near the mountains and had spent their boyhood scrambling up and down seemingly sheer rock faces. There were always support points to be found, as long as you knew what you were looking for.
And as long as you maintained three points of contact with the rock while you climbed.
As they ascended, Hal hammered a succession of iron pins into cracks and crevices in the rock wall. Stig then tied the rope securely around them, providing a permanent web of support for the climbers in case they should slip. The ledge itself was wide and level. Stig sat with his feet dangling over the edge, watching as Hal measured and marked out points on the rock where the timber platform would be anchored. The rock was hard enough to provide stable support, but not so hard that Hal couldn’t cut and shape and mark it with the pickax.
Once he had marked out the plan on the ledge itself, where the inner side of the platform would be secured, Hal clambered down the web of ropes they had created and found points where the supporting struts could be anchored to the rock wall. Again he marked the spots with his pickax, deftly cutting steps into the rock where the diagonal props would sit.
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