Brotherband 3: The Hunters

by John Flanagan

  Ahead of them lay a short stretch, a quarter of a kilometre in length. The next turn would be to starboard and the headland on that bank was a high, wooded bluff.

  As he looked at it, Hal realised that there was a thick column of smoke rising from somewhere beyond it.

  ‘Get the sail up!’ he ordered. ‘I think our friend Mannoc might be in trouble.’

  With the sail raised and a good stiff breeze from abeam, Heron leapt forward like a wolfhound off the leash. The hull resonated to the rapid thump-thump-thump of the small waves on the river, with the occasional larger wave being sliced apart so that white spray reached up past the gunwales.

  ‘Shields and weapons,’ Thorn called and there was a flurry of activity on board as the crew unhitched their shields from the bulwarks and placed them ready. Hal looked forward to where the Mangler was covered by its canvas wrapping.

  ‘Ingvar,’ he called. ‘Clear away the Mangler.’

  ‘Yes, Hal. Do you want me to load her?’

  Strange, thought Hal, that the dreadful, destructive weapon had taken on a feminine identity. He was about to agree to Ingvar’s suggestion when he remembered that stain of blood on his side.

  ‘No. Ulf and Wulf can do it.’ He thought for a moment. Once they were in a fight, Ulf and Wulf would be busy on the sail trimming sheets. That meant he’d have only one shot with the Mangler. They could hardly leave the trim and come forward to reload for him. He gestured for Stig to take the tiller for a few minutes, while he fetched his crossbow and sword belt from his own weapon rack, at the rear of the rowing well.

  The next bend in the river was coming closer. The column of smoke beyond it was thicker and darker now. A ship was burning, he thought. The upcoming bend was to starboard, so there would be no need to change sails. All these thoughts flashed through his mind as he took stock of the situation, then they were skimming past the wooded headland and the river opened up before them.

  His eyes were drawn first to the burning ship. As he had supposed, it was one of the traders and it was heeled over and low in the water. As he watched, a long, lean rowing boat slipped away from it and headed after the other three traders.

  They were further downriver, fleeing like clumsy cattle ahead of a group of three more longboats, snapping at their heels. As they watched, they saw Seahawk speeding back upriver to intercept the leading pirate. The longboat hesitated as her helmsman ordered his rowers to row back one side and forward on the other, spinning the boat in its own length to dodge Seahawk.

  But Mannoc had anticipated the move. He put his helm over and, as the pirate turned sharply to port, Seahawk was already swinging to meet her. The crew of the Heron heard the shouts of terror from the longboat as the sailing ship bore down on them. Then there was an ugly cracking sound as Seahawk’s bow smashed into the longboat’s exposed side. For a moment, Seahawk rode up on the other craft, then, as the timbers shattered and splintered, the sailing ship’s prow came down like an axe, gouging a huge gap in the longboat’s side.

  The pirate was already sinking, her crew pouring out of her into the river, grasping oars and any piece of loose equipment they could find to keep them afloat. But the attack had cost Seahawk her position of advantage between the pirates and the trading fleet. The remaining longboats veered away to slip past her, rowing furiously, their oars splashing white foam with every beat.

  Seahawk had lost most of her speed when she rammed the pirate. Now she turned slowly to pursue others. But one of them had swung in a wide arc and was turning back to intercept her, while its companion continued after the traders.

  Thorn summed the situation up in a second. He pointed to the boat that had been pulling away from the burning trader when they first saw her.

  ‘That one!’ he yelled. ‘Stig and I will board her over the stern while you go after the other one!’ He bent down, pulling at the fastenings of his hook and replacing it with the huge war club Hal had made for him.

  Hal nodded. He saw nothing incongruous in Thorn’s plan – for two warriors to board a ship with a crew of twenty. The boat was narrow and if Thorn and Stig boarded her over the stern, the crew could only face them two at a time. And Hal would back Thorn and Stig over any two pirates in the world.

  Still, he thought, it wouldn’t hurt to reduce the odds somewhat. He beckoned to Edvin, pointing to the tiller.

  ‘Take over!’ he ordered and, as Edvin seized the smooth oak handle, Hal grabbed his crossbow and quiver and ran forward, motioning for Lydia to join him. He realised now how right Thorn had been to suggest that he train Edvin as a replacement helmsman.

  The longboat was forty metres away when they reached the bow. As Hal stooped to cock the crossbow, he heard the whipping sound of Lydia’s atlatl, and the faint whimpering sound of the dart as it sped away. He glanced up to see one of the longboat’s crew rise to his feet in agony as the dart transfixed him. Then the pirate crashed over, falling on the rower in front of him and causing him to lose his grip on his oar. The two loose oars trailed in the water and the boat yawed to starboard while the helmsman struggled to keep her straight.

  Hal raised the loaded crossbow, sighted and shot. He was aiming at the helmsman but he missed by the smallest margin. The bolt slashed past the man and buried itself in the upper arm of the crewman in front of him. In the same space of time, Lydia had hurled another two darts. One buried itself in the timber of the boat. The other struck an oarsman who had turned to look at them, half rising from his seat. The impact of the heavy projectile threw him backwards so that he trailed over the bulwark. A red ribbon of blood stained the water behind him.

  Hal shot again. The range was closer this time and he didn’t miss. The helmsman collapsed over the steering oar and the longboat swung wildly. But Edvin matched the movement and brought the Heron up astern of the pirate, riding in her wake. Hal was bending down to reload, his foot in the stirrup of the crossbow, when he felt a hand on his arm.

  ‘Move aside,’ Thorn said gruffly. Hal realised that it hadn’t been a hand that he’d felt, but the head of the war club. He and Lydia stood down as Thorn and Stig moved forward, stepping up to balance on the bulwarks as the Heron moved closer and closer, until there was only a metre of open water between her bow and the pirate’s stern.

  ‘Let’s get ’em!’ Thorn yelled the time-honoured Skandian battle cry, and propelled himself across the gap and onto the longboat. Stig followed a fraction of a second later. The boat rocked wildly as they landed, but they were experienced sailors and they kept their balance easily. Not so the pirate crew, who were caught unprepared for the sudden lurching, and tumbled over thwarts and the butts of oars as their boat plunged and rocked.

  Before they could recover, Thorn and Stig moved forward like a two-man battering ram. The huge club and Stig’s whirling axe swept away any who tried to oppose them – and as Hal had foreseen, the pirates could only do this two at a time. In fact, their superior numbers were a disadvantage, as they got in each other’s way, trying to avoid the terrifying pair who confronted them. Some solved the problem by simply hurling themselves overboard and swimming frantically for the shore. Unlike the seagoing Skandians, these men were river bred and swimming was part of their life. Others chose to stand and face the crushing blows of the club and the humming battleaxe as it flashed in a terrible circle of light. Their attempts were unsuccessful and they quickly joined their crewmates in the water – but they weren’t swimming.

  Thorn took a second to glance back at Hal, still in the bow of the Heron.

  ‘Go after the other one!’ he bellowed. ‘Come back for us!’

  It was obvious that they had the situation well under control. Hal turned and yelled to Edvin.

  ‘Bear away! Go after the other boat!’

  Hal took time now to take stock of the situation. The boat rammed by Seahawk was showing only a metre or so of her stern above water. The river around it was dotted with the heads of swimming men. To starboard, Seahawk was battling the longboat that had swung out in
a wide arc, moving into the shallow water by the bank, then sliding out to approach Seahawk from astern. The lean rowing boat was grappled to Seahawk like an evil parasite. Her men had managed to storm aboard the sailing craft and a savage battle was being waged on her decks.

  The fourth longboat, taking advantage of Seahawk’s situation, was rapidly overtaking the slow trading ships. Hal could see that she carried extra crew in addition to her oarsmen. They were standing, brandishing weapons and screaming abuse at the helpless traders. Hal estimated the relative positions, thinking rapidly. They would need to tack twice to run down on the longboat. But they should reach it just in time.

  With nearly thirty men on board the longboat, there was no question of boarding her – particularly with Thorn and Stig busy on her companion. He’d have to do the job with the Mangler.

  And he had only one shot.

  ‘Stand by to come about!’ he yelled back to Edvin. For a moment, he considered going back to take the helm, but every second counted now.

  ‘Down starboard! Helm to port! Up port!’

  Jesper and Stefan had sprung to the halyards. The starboard sail clattered and flapped down and the port sail shot up in its place. The twins hauled in. At the same time, Edvin brought the ship’s head round to port and the ship turned neatly through the tack.

  The pirates, seeing the small ship astern of them turning away, thought Heron was retreating and that they had already won. They redoubled their yelling and jeering.

  Hal slipped into the seat behind the Mangler, his face grim.

  ‘Enjoy it while you can,’ he said. He looked up to where Lydia was standing beside him. ‘Keep them busy,’ he said and she nodded.

  ‘Range is a bit long at the moment. When we get closer,’ she said. She already had a dart clipped to the atlatl and she held it by her side, swaying gently with the movement of the ship. Hal smiled. Her sealegs had improved in the past few weeks, he thought. He felt the Mangler move slightly and turned. Ingvar was in position with the training lever. He grinned at Hal.

  ‘I can handle this all right,’ he said. ‘You concentrate on shooting.’ Hal nodded acknowledgement. He glanced at the pirate longboat, now heading on a diverging course from Heron. He measured angles and speeds and distances in his mind, waiting for the right moment, when their next tack would put them on an interception course. He had to gauge where the longboat would be at the end of that tack, mentally projecting a point out ahead of it. But it was second nature to him. He turned and called to the crew.

  ‘Stand by to tack!’

  Edvin waved acknowledgement. Stefan and Jesper met his eye and nodded. The twins were crouched by the sheets, ready to release one sail and harness the other. Hal checked the longboat’s position once more. It was getting awfully close to the traders, he thought. He’d better get this right first time. He pushed the worm of doubt aside.

  ‘Tack!’ he yelled. He’d seen how Edvin had performed on the previous tack and realised there was no need to issue a sequence of specific orders. The crew executed the smooth sequence of actions perfectly. Heron’s bow swung back to starboard, heading towards a point where she would intercept the pirate. As they gathered speed, Hal saw that he had judged the movement perfectly. Best of all, the crew of the longboat, convinced that Heron was running away, were paying her no attention. Their eyes were fastened on the nearest of the trading ships, fat and slow and wallowing, like a hen being pursued by a fox.

  ‘Don’t shoot yet,’ he cautioned Lydia. ‘They haven’t seen us.’

  She nodded. The Heron plunged on, slicing through the water, overhauling the longboat hand over fist.

  ‘Left a little,’ he said to Ingvar, and felt the big crossbow swivel beneath him. There would be no need for the sight. He’d be shooting at point-blank range. He wound the elevating wheel, angling the Mangler down. He was planning to get close and shoot down into the longboat, so that the bolt smashed out through her bottom.

  ‘They’ve seen us,’ Lydia said and, in the same moment, Hal heard the whip of the atlatl again. He didn’t see the dart hit, but he heard a cry of agony. The longboat was drifting to their left once more as the Heron came in on an angle.

  ‘Left a little, Ingvar,’ he said. ‘That’s it. Keep it there.’

  Another dart flashed away towards the longboat. Another cry of pain. They were getting closer now. Barely ten metres separated the two craft. The helmsman on the longboat watched them bearing down and swung his boat to starboard, attempting to escape. It was a mistake. Had he gone to port, Heron would have had to tack to follow him. As it was, Edvin saw the move and matched it, Ulf and Wulf trimming the sail to compensate for the change in angle.

  Hal held his breath. Heron’s bow rose slightly on one of the small waves. As he felt it reach the crest, he angled the Mangler down as far as possible and pulled the trigger.

  There was the usual SLAM! as the limbs released and the cradle leapt upwards in recoil, then crashed back as the leather thongs checked its movement. The heavy bolt flashed away, ploughed through the crowded men in the longboat, then smashed into the bottom.

  It struck the join between two planks, smashing them apart. It split one and tore the other completely loose from its fastenings, opening a gap over a metre long and thirty centimetres wide in the bottom of the hull.

  Water poured in and the crew tried desperately to stem it. In their haste, they tried to plug the gap with shirts and jackets. But as they pushed the clothes into the gap, they put pressure on the second, weakened plank and forced its shattered ends aside, doubling the size of the hole in the boat’s bottom. What had been a serious wound became a fatal one and the boat was already beginning to settle. Some of her crew saw the inevitable end coming and dived overboard. More and more followed, swimming desperately for the shore. Half a dozen, presumably non-swimmers, stayed aboard the drifting hulk.

  ‘Bear away,’ Hal called to Edvin. As they swung away from the wreck, he saw that Mannoc and his men had overwhelmed their opponent. The pirate longboat was barely afloat, sinking by the bow.

  He looked towards the third pirate boat. Thorn and Stig were sitting in the stern, waving cheerfully to him. There was nobody else in the longboat, although at least a dozen men were in the water beside it, clinging to the gunwales.

  ‘Looks like a bad day all round for pirates,’ he said. ‘Let’s go fetch Stig and Thorn.’

  It was late in the day and it would be dark in two hours. Hal decided to spend the night in Drogha, the town where the trading fleet were headed, and make for Raguza the following day. With all the delays they had experienced, he had virtually given up hope of catching the Raven before it reached the pirate citadel.

  ‘We’ll have to figure something else out,’ he told Thorn and the shaggy-haired old sea wolf agreed.

  ‘It was never a good chance that we’d catch up with her on the river anyway,’ he said. ‘We may as well have a comfortable night while we figure out what to do next.’

  At Mannoc’s invitation, they sailed in company with Seahawk and the three remaining traders. They pulled alongside the Seahawk for a quick council of war. Mannoc expressed his gratitude to them for their prompt action in coming to his aid.

  ‘I would have lost another two of those ships without you,’ he said. ‘And the skippers know it. Don’t be surprised if they want to feast you tonight.’

  Hal pointed to the drifting remains of two of the longboats, still with members of their crew clinging to the wreckage.

  ‘What will we do about them?’ he asked.

  Mannoc shrugged. ‘Leave them. Most of them got away ashore and we’d never catch them if we went after them. As for those –’ he indicated the forlorn figures drifting with the wrecked boats ‘– the river can have them. The crews are scattered now and they’ve lost their boats. They won’t be a threat for months to come. And I have no wish to rescue them.’

  Aside from that, Hal realised, there would be an inherent danger in taking so many of the pirates on board. Th
ere were at least fifteen of them on the two wrecks.

  ‘There’s another point,’ Mannoc added. ‘There’s nothing to say that they’re the last pirates we’ll encounter today. There could be another band waiting round any bend in the river. And I don’t want to have to spare men to guard prisoners if I have to fight another action.’

  Hal nodded. Six of Mannoc’s crew had been badly injured in the fight with the longboat. He was short-handed – probably the reason why he had invited them to sail in company with his little fleet.

  In the end, the trip to Drogha was uneventful and they reached the town just before dusk.

  It was a pretty port, well maintained and with a harbour filled with ships. On Mannoc’s order, Heron and Seahawk hove to and let their three charges precede them into the basin. Mannoc pointed to a mooring to one side and Hal steered to follow him, tying up alongside the larger ship.

  Now that they were safely moored and there was no further chance of another pirate attack, Thorn removed the war club from his right arm and replaced it with his grasping hook.

  ‘That’s better,’ he said, flexing his elbow and flourishing the polished wood hook. ‘That club gets a little weighty after a few hours.’

  The crews of both ships were kept busy for some time, stowing gear, furling sails and checking weapons. Lydia took stock of her supply of darts for the atlatl. She’d been using them at a rapid rate over the past few days and had barely a dozen left.

  ‘I’ll need to make some more,’ she muttered. As she was doing this, Stig was inspecting the blade of his axe, where a chance blow against the iron rim of a pirate’s shield had left a large nick. Sighing, he sat down and took out his whetstone, working away to grind it out and restore the razor-sharp edge. Thorn nodded approvingly. Taking care of weapons, and not leaving the task till later, was the sign of a good warrior. His club-hand was scarred and scratched in several places, but that didn’t reduce its effectiveness.