“They’re abreast of us now. Maybe a hundred meters from the lake . . .”
Instinctively, several crew members’ eyes swiveled to the starboard side, as if their owners could see through the solid planking. Hal had a momentary rush of concern as he remembered the crew’s shields, arranged along the bulwarks. Unlike the green hull itself, they were painted in various colors that might well stand out if any of the riders glanced in their direction. His own shield was probably most at fault, being painted in a rich blue enamel. He glanced up at the sun. All they needed now was one flash of sunlight reflected from the metal fittings on a shield to catch the attention of one of the riders. But it was afternoon and the sun was sliding down in the west, behind them. There was no way it would reflect a flash of light from the line of shields.
So far, they seemed to have escaped the attention of the patrol. He made a mental note to have the shields stowed inboard as soon as possible.
Across the water, he heard a thin cry of command, and his heart leapt to his mouth as the line of horsemen came to a halt. Had they been spotted?
He held his breath for several seconds—an instinctive action and a relatively useless one, as there was no way the Temujai would hear him breathing. Then he saw the patrol commander rise in his stirrups and peer farther down the shore and the lake itself, shielding his eyes with one hand.
“They’ve stopped,” he told the crew. “But they haven’t spotted us. Their leader is looking down the lake behind us. Nobody move.” He realized that this was possibly the moment of greatest danger. With the riders stopped and the leader scanning the lakeshore to the south, there was every chance that the rest of the patrol would glance idly about them—and spot the little ship drifting barely two hundred meters away.
The patrol leader settled back into his saddle and raised his hand above his head in a circling motion. Another thin cry of command carried to Hal and the patrol moved off, moving in a long arc until they were headed back in the direction from which they’d come. He heaved a sigh of relief, releasing a pent-up breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding.
“They’re heading off,” Hal told the crew. “Stay down for a few more minutes until they’re out of sight.”
Gradually, the muted thud of hoofs on soft ground faded away, and the line of riders galloped over a shallow crest and disappeared. Hal counted slowly to ten, making sure the riders didn’t suddenly reappear.
“All right, everyone, back to your stations. Let’s get that sail up again.”
The little ship came to life as the crew rose from their crouched hiding places. Jesper moved to the mast to join Stefan in raising the port sail, while Ulf and Wulf tended the sheets. As the yardarm clunked into place and they hauled in on the sheets, the ship quivered, then began to cut through the water, gathering speed. Hal shoved the tiller over so that they were heading out onto the main surface of the lake, away from the eastern shore. Stig and Thorn moved to stand beside him.
“What the devil are they doing here?” Hal said. “We’re miles from the border at Serpent Pass. They’ve traveled a long way to get here.”
“There were only a dozen of them,” Stig pointed out.
But Thorn disagreed. “There’ll be more. They don’t move about in small numbers.” He looked at Hal. “To answer your question, maybe they’ve had the same thought that Erak had. After all, they can read maps as well as we can.”
“You mean they’re looking to see if they can use Ice River Valley as a way down to the coast?” Stig asked.
“If we can come up it, they can certainly get down it,” Thorn said. “What we have to do is find a way to stop them.”
Hal thought for a few seconds before speaking. “We may be jumping to a conclusion there,” he said. “What we need to do is hole up around here and keep an eye on them for a few days—see what they get up to.”
“And where do you suggest we ‘hole up’ for a few days?” Stig said, looking at the shoreline. “The bank there doesn’t have a lot of places we could keep out of sight.”
“Maybe not the bank,” Hal said. He pointed to the large island he had spotted earlier. “But that island might be just the place we need.”
chapter sixteen
The island was perhaps six hundred meters long and two hundred across. Unlike the shores of the lake, it was covered in heavy tree growth. They were relatively low trees, but with thick foliage. The island would make a good hiding place, so long as they could find a way to conceal the ship.
As they drew closer, Hal had the crew lower the sails and resume rowing. He steered the ship in closer, studying the island carefully. The banks were steep, dropping off into the water and with trees growing right up to the water’s edge. They offered no mooring place or hiding place on the eastern side.
They swung around the northern end of the island and then came back down the western side. Here, the banks were the same, although, at a pinch, Hal thought they could moor and drape the ship with foliage and netting to conceal her. The chances of seeing Temujai on the western shore of the lake were small, and in any event, the shore was almost out of sight, forming a green-gray line along the horizon.
He had just decided that this would be the best choice they had when Lydia called him, pointing to the shoreline astern.
“There, Hal!”
He looked back over his shoulder and saw the mouth of a small inlet in the island’s west bank—an opening that was half again as wide as the Heron and ran in among the trees for about fifteen meters. It was a perfect hiding place for the ship—as long as the water was deep enough. He had missed it as they sailed past. It was only visible when one looked astern, as Lydia had just done. He nodded his thanks and swung the tiller, taking the Heron in a circle to head back toward the little gap.
“Easy all,” he warned the rowers. He didn’t want to go charging in at full speed. Gradually, the way died off the ship until she was creeping over the water.
“Jes!” he called. “Keep an eye on the depth as we go in.”
Jesper, still on the bow post, waved acknowledgment. At the slowest possible speed they could manage and still maintain steerageway, the ship stole forward, edging her way toward the narrow opening. Jesper craned on his toes, peering down at the water for any sign of it shallowing. He made a circular gesture with his hand, telling Hal to keep coming.
Slowly, cautiously, Heron nosed into the narrow gap and under the trees. The wind was blanketed here and the choppy waves gave way to smooth water. The external sounds died away as they crept in among the trees. About forty meters beyond their current position, Hal could see that the little inlet petered out in a tangle of reeds and low shrubs. They’d come far enough, he thought. The ship was well and truly inside the concealing arms of the inlet now.
“Stop rowing,” he said. There was no need to raise his voice in the shelter of the trees.
The regular, muted splash of oars in the water ceased as the rowers rested on their oars.
“In oars.” As ever, the oars rattled against the rowlocks and the stowage racks as the crew hauled them inboard and stowed them. Heron came to a halt almost immediately. She had barely been moving anyway.
“Get her moored, Stig,” Hal said.
Stig took up the stern line and quickly tied a small grapnel to it. Then he cast it underhand onto the bank, among the thick growth of trees and saplings there. In the bow, Jesper scrambled down from his lookout post and did the same with the bow mooring line. The two of them hauled on the lines and dragged the ship in close to the bank, tying off the ropes when there was barely a meter of open water between the hull and the bank.
Stig ran a gangplank out over the gunwale to the shore, shoving it through the undergrowth and pushing till he found a firm footing for it. He looked around at the curtain of trees that concealed them.
“Do you want the nets rigged?” he asked. The nets were fishing nets
festooned with irregular strips and patches of green and gray cloth. Draped over the ship, they broke up her outline and made her more difficult for passersby to spot. Hal considered the idea, then shook his head.
“We’re pretty well concealed here,” he said. “Get the camp set up ashore. We may as well sleep comfortably.”
Stig nodded. They could sleep on board, of course. But it was more comfortable to set up their big tent, where they could roll their blankets out on soft ground rather than the hard planks of the Heron’s deck. He called out orders to the rest of the crew and they began unloading the equipment they’d need for the camp.
Hal noticed Edvin standing nearby, waiting to speak. He nodded for the young man to go ahead.
“I should be able to set a cook fire here, Hal,” he said. “I’ll keep it hot so there’s a minimum of smoke. And what there is will be dissipated among the trees anyway.”
Hal considered the statement. “What about the smell of smoke?” he asked.
Edvin shrugged. “We’re a long way from the shore. And the breeze is blowing to the northwest. That should carry it away.”
“Besides,” Lydia interjected, smiling, “the Temujai are unlikely to smell anything above their own pleasant perfume of sweat and horse dung. They’re not the daintiest people,” she added, remembering how she had sensed their presence in the valley north of Fort Ragnak.
Hal knew she was half joking. But he also knew she was an experienced scout and hunter. If she felt there was no risk of their smoke being detected, that was good enough for him. He nodded to Edvin.
“Fine, Edvin. Get a fire going. It’ll be good to have a cup of coffee.” His mouth suddenly watered at the thought. He turned and saw Thorn waiting expectantly, anticipating Hal’s next action.
“Thorn, you come with me. Let’s take a look at the eastern shore and see what’s stirring.”
They left the crew to the business of setting up camp and headed off into the thick undergrowth beneath the trees. There were no paths that they could see. The island was obviously uninhabited by man or beast. From time to time, they had to use their razor-sharp saxes to hack their way through the bushes and vines that clung to them and tried to stop their progress.
For all that, it didn’t take them long to reach the opposite bank of the island. They crouched among the trees, making sure they kept in their concealing shadow, and surveyed the eastern shore of the lake.
“Don’t see anything,” Thorn said.
Hal grimaced at him. “Not yet, anyway. We’ll give it a while.”
Thorn nodded and slid to the ground, resting his back against the trunk of a small tree. He plucked a long piece of grass and chewed on it thoughtfully.
“Are you expecting anything in particular?” he asked after several minutes had passed. Hal shrugged and lowered himself to the ground, picking a soft, grassy spot and making himself comfortable.
“I’m thinking that if we saw one Temujai patrol earlier, we’re likely to see more, scouting out the land. From what you’ve told me, they’re an organized bunch. They wouldn’t come this way in large numbers without reconnoitering first. I get the impression they like to know what they’re walking into.”
“Are they coming this way?” Thorn asked.
Hal considered the question before answering. “Unfortunately, I think they might be. I think they’re looking for another way to get down to the coast, and this might well be the way they come. Anyway, we’ll have a better idea in a day or two. If we don’t see them again, we’ll assume I’m wrong and we can head back down ourselves.”
“That would be nice,” Thorn said. “But I think you might be right. Look.”
He pointed with his hook, and Hal, looking in the direction Thorn indicated, saw movement among the long grass on the eastern shore. As he watched, a file of horsemen rode over a low ridge, the long grass reaching to their horses’ bellies again and giving that same impression that they were somehow floating over the grasslands.
“Are they the same ones we saw before?” Thorn asked. It was hard to differentiate between one band of Temujai and another. They wore the same clothes, had the same weapons and carried the same banners—horsetails on a crosspiece mounted on a spear handle.
“I think they might be a different lot,” Hal said. “The leader of the other patrol rode a black horse. That one is brown and white.”
“Or he’s the same man and he’s changed horses,” Thorn suggested.
Hal nodded. “That could be right.”
They watched in silence for several minutes before Thorn spoke again. “They’re patrolling a different section.”
Hal realized he was right. The previous group had ridden on a diagonal course to the shore of the lake, then swung southward. These riders stayed farther inland, sweeping the ground parallel to the lakeshore.
“One thing’s the same,” Hal observed. “They’re coming out of the east and then looking to the south. And if that becomes a trend, it bothers me.”
“Maybe they’re just looking for a way around the lake,” Thorn suggested. “Maybe they plan to continue moving to the west.”
“Maybe,” Hal replied. But his voice didn’t carry any conviction.
They stayed for another half hour and saw no further sign of Temujai riders. The group they had seen moved farther south, then turned to the east and rode out of sight.
“We’ll set up a roster to keep watch on them,” Hal said. “If we’ve seen two patrols, I’d expect to see more. But how many of them, and where they’re looking, is information I’d like to know.”
They headed back the way they had come and found the camp set up and organized. Edvin had prepared a meal and they took a bowl each, eagerly smelling the fragrant fumes that rose from it.
“Salt pork and potato soup,” the cook told them. He shrugged diffidently. “Sorry it’s a bit ordinary. Looks like there’ll be no fresh game while we’re here. There’s nothing on the island.”
Hal shrugged the apology aside as he spooned the soup into his mouth. “This is fine,” he said. “And maybe there’ll be fish in the lake.”
Edvin brightened. “That’s true. I’ll set some lines before dark.”
Hal looked across the small clearing to where Stig and Lydia were finishing their meals and rinsing their bowls and spoons in a basin of boiling water.
“Stig, Lydia,” he called, and they turned expectantly. He jerked his head in the direction of the east bank. “Head across and keep an eye on the shore.”
Stig nodded and, picking up his battleax, pushed the haft through the iron retaining ring on his belt. The island might be uninhabited, but Stig would never go anywhere without his ax. Lydia had the same automatic reaction, slinging the quiver of darts over her shoulder as she turned toward the path Hal and Thorn had blazed through the trees.
“Are we looking for anything in particular?” she asked.
“You’re looking for Temujai,” Hal told her. “We saw one patrol while we were watching. That makes two today and that’s two too many. I get the feeling that they’re scouting out the lakeshore.”
“Could be coincidence, of course,” Stig said.
“Could be. Or it could be they’re planning to make a move this way in force. If they are, I’d like to know.”
As Stig and Lydia headed for the trees, Kloof came to her feet and bounded after them. She’d been lying around the campsite for an hour or more and she wanted exercise.
Stig looked at Hal, questioning him. “All right if Kloof comes?”
Hal nodded. “Actually, it’s a good idea. She often hears or smells things long before we can see them. I’m not sure which it is, but it’s quite uncanny.”
Lydia grinned. “Well, the way the Temujai spend their time sitting around those horse-dung fires, I’d say she’ll smell them.”
chapter seventeen
For th
e next two days, they maintained their surveillance over the lake’s eastern shore.
They kept watch in pairs, remaining hidden among the trees on the edge of the island, scanning the rolling grasslands that stretched out to the horizon.
It was a boring assignment. Sometimes they could wait for hours before seeing any activity on the part of the Temujai, and it would be easy to nod off, particularly since the last two days had enjoyed typical early spring weather. The skies had been clear and the sun was warm. And in among the trees, sheltered from the prevailing breeze, it was cozy and comfortable. Having two people on watch made sure that they stayed awake.
But in spite of the hours of inactivity, they did see more Temujai patrols. On the second day, they saw three, and on the third day, two more. Generally, the horsemen rode in groups of eight or ten. It was clear that they were studying the land close to the lake, perhaps searching for potential danger, or perhaps, as Hal feared, searching for a path down from the high country to the coastal plain. Each patrol followed the same basic pattern. They would emerge from the east and turn south, sometimes close to the shore, sometimes farther inland. And they would travel farther south each day, judging by the time they were out of sight. Then, after several hours, they would return and swing east again—always east—heading in that direction until they disappeared from view.
“Obviously,” Thorn said as they discussed the repeating pattern on the third night, “that’s where their main camp is located. They always come out of the east and return there when they’re finished.”
Hal nodded agreement. “What I’d like to know is, how big is the camp?” he said, poking a green twig into the coals of the small fire. “Is it just an exploration? Or is it the main body of the Temujai on the move?”
Return of the Temujai Page 11