Brotherband 3: The Hunters

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Brotherband 3: The Hunters Page 25

by John Flanagan


  Even then, Zavac might still have claimed innocence. The evidence against him was all circumstantial. But the crucial moment came when one of the survivors of the fight in the alley, offered immunity from punishment if he testified, swore to the Korpaljo that Zavac had sent him and seven others to ambush the Skandians and kill them.

  After hearing the evidence, Mihaly eyed Zavac and the five Skandians with distaste. It was obvious that the Magyaran captain was to blame for the ambush. But if the cursed Skandians had stayed away from Raguza, and not brought their private feud with them, none of this would have happened.

  Still, he thought, Zavac was the guilty party in this affair and he had to be punished. It did nothing to help his case that he had deceived the Korpaljo over the matter of the emeralds and tried to cheat him out of his fee. On top of all that, Mihaly simply disliked the man. Zavac was devious and untrustworthy and Mihaly had no doubt that he had done exactly as the Skandians said – deserting his comrades in Limmat and leaving the Stingray to her fate.

  ‘You’ve got forty-eight hours,’ he said, glaring coldly at Zavac.

  The Magyaran recoiled in his seat, knowing what Mihaly was talking about, but feigning ignorance, on the faint chance that he could change his mind.

  ‘Forty-eight hours? For what?’ he asked.

  ‘To get out of Raguza. You’re expelled. You, your ship and your crew. You know the rules, Zavac. That’s it.’

  Zavac, his jaw hanging open, pointed to Hal and the others. Like him, they were sitting before Mihaly’s massive desk. But there was a noticeable separation of space between them and Zavac.

  ‘What about them?’ he demanded.

  The Korpaljo glared at them as he replied. ‘They stay here. You’re the guilty party. But if I have any more trouble from them, or any more incidents involving them, they’ll be thrown out as well.’

  A crafty look came into Zavac’s eyes. ‘Then I’ll be expecting you to refund my haven fee,’ he said. ‘I paid for a month’s refuge and I’ve been here less than a week. In fact,’ he added, ‘I paid way beyond the going rate. I demand you return my emeralds to me.’

  ‘Demand away,’ Mihaly told him, with a hollow laugh. ‘You lied to me. You tried to cheat me. And then you violated the most basic rule of this city. You planned an attack on another crew. There are no refunds for rule-breakers and you know it.’

  Zavac turned his furious gaze on Hal and his friends. ‘This is your fault,’ he snarled. ‘I’ll kill you for this. Every one of you!’

  Hal said nothing, but Lydia leaned forward so that she could see past the others and met Zavac’s poisonous glare.

  ‘I think that’s the sort of attitude that got you into all this trouble in the first place,’ she said mildly. ‘Are you really so slow on the uptake?’

  Thorn emitted a short bark of laughter. Even Mihaly’s lips twisted slightly in a smile.

  Zavac stabbed a forefinger at Lydia. ‘You’ll be the first to die, girl,’ he spat.

  She raised one eyebrow. ‘How terrifying,’ she said calmly. ‘Will you send another gang after me, or will you try to do it yourself?’ Her eyes went cold as she remembered her grandfather, killed without mercy in Limmat by Zavac and his marauders. ‘Because I’d love you to try. I’d really love that.’

  Zavac knew little about this girl. He studied her uncertainly. Now he saw her fingers playing round the hilt of the long dirk she wore on her belt and he felt a twinge of uncertainty. Something told him that she would be a good person to steer clear of. He looked away, but Mihaly had been watching the exchange with keen eyes.

  ‘Just as I thought, Zavac,’ he said, shaking his head with disdain. ‘Faced down by a girl. You’re a coward as well as a cheat and a liar. I’ll be glad to be rid of you.’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on him,’ Thorn said with a grin. ‘She’s quite a girl. I keep telling the boys here, she’s a real keeper.’

  ‘Shut up, old man,’ Lydia snapped. It was a reflex reaction by now and Thorn grinned.

  Mihaly was less amused. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘It’s decided. Zavac, you and –’

  ‘Just a minute,’ Hal interrupted. He shook his head doggedly. ‘It’s not enough.’

  Mihaly looked at him, one eyebrow raised sardonically. ‘It’s not enough?’ he repeated. ‘What, exactly, is not enough?’

  ‘Simply expelling him. He tried to kill us. And he deserted us in Limmat –’

  ‘Are you still trying to peddle that lie?’ Zavac sneered.

  Hal faced him directly now. ‘You caused the deaths of our friends. You tried to kill us when you left Limmat. And you tried again last night.’ He turned back to the Korpaljo, his face flushed with anger. ‘Expelling him is not enough. He deserves much more. He owes us.’

  But he realised now that he had misread Mihaly’s motives. The Korpaljo disliked and distrusted Zavac. But that didn’t mean he was on the Herons’ side. Mihaly wasn’t interested in justice, he was interested in expediency. He had a chance to get rid of Zavac, a disruptive element who had tried to cheat him, and he had possession of the emeralds he had confiscated from the Magyaran. Beyond that, he had no interest in what Hal and his crew wanted. He leaned forward now.

  ‘That’s between you and him,’ he said. ‘As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing more to say. He and his ship are expelled. You can stay here or go – as you choose.’

  But that was the problem Hal had been considering. They had finally run Zavac to ground here in Raguza. If he left now, there was always the chance that he would slip away from them again. He had forty-eight hours to leave port. Since he had been in Raguza, Hal had noticed that the wind tended to die away around midnight, blowing up again around dawn. If Zavac left in the hours of darkness, they could lose him.

  The Raven was faster under oars than Heron and, without a good breeze, they could never keep up. He could slip away to the south, into the Constant Sea or the Sea of Rostov. Presumably, Zavac would know of a dozen places there where he could hide from pursuit, and the Heron would be sailing in unknown waters. After all this, Hal couldn’t let that happen. He could see the Andomal slipping out of his grasp, when he had come so close to retrieving it. He thought desperately. Mihaly was interested in getting rid of Zavac, not providing justice for Hal and his crew. But before he could speak, Mihaly turned to Thorn with an exasperated gesture.

  ‘Just one minute. Who’s in charge here? Are you the skipper or is the boy?’

  Thorn smiled. ‘In point of fact, he is the skipper,’ he said. ‘I just go along with him to carry the heavy baggage.’

  Mihaly’s brows drew together in anger. ‘But you told me you were –’

  Thorn held up a hand to stop him. ‘No. I didn’t. You simply assumed that I was the skipper and you addressed all your questions to me.’

  Mihaly sat back, trying to remember their earlier encounter, trying to remember what had been said. He realised that the shabby northman was right. He had just assumed that, as the oldest member of the party, Thorn was the ship’s captain. But while Thorn had never claimed to be the skipper, he had allowed the Korpaljo to assume that he was. Mihaly threw an angry look at him.

  ‘We’ll discuss this further,’ he said. ‘I don’t like being misled.’

  While this exchange had taken place, Hal had been thinking furiously. Mihaly, he decided, was a controller. He liked to manipulate people to his own ends and then watch them as they reacted. He would enjoy sitting back and observing a dispute between others, so long as it didn’t interfere with his wishes in any way. Hal thought he saw a way to exploit that tendency and he rolled the dice now, hoping he was right.

  ‘I want a duel,’ he said.

  Mihaly looked at him in surprise. ‘A duel?’

  ‘With Zavac. I challenge him to a duel.’

  ‘You what?’ Zavac replied. ‘You’re still wet behind the ears! I’d finish you in two minutes!’

  ‘Then go ahead and try,’ Hal shot back.

  Thorn leaned forward, blo
cking Hal’s view of Zavac.

  ‘Hal, just a minute. Think about this . . .’ he began. Hal was good with a sword – very good, Thorn knew. After all, he had taught him. He was young and fast. But Zavac was a killer. He had killed before and he would do so again without hesitation – and in a one-on-one duel, that gave him a huge advantage. If they met in the heat of battle, Hal would have a more than even chance. But in the cold-blooded, organised atmosphere of a duel, the pendulum would swing Zavac’s way.

  ‘He’s challenged me! Let him fight!’ Zavac said quickly. This young Skandian had thwarted Zavac at every turn. Now there was a chance for revenge. He glared at Hal. ‘I’ll be more than happy to accommodate you, boy!’

  ‘No!’ Thorn began desperately. ‘He –’

  ‘Quiet!’ Mihaly slapped his open hand on the table for silence. They all turned to him as he rubbed his chin between his forefinger and thumb, thinking. His gaze swept quickly back and forth between the two antagonists, measuring them. One young and angry, the other sneering and calculating.

  A duel, he thought. That might be an amusing diversion. And it might be a good opportunity to turn a profit. Not that Mihaly would wager on the outcome, but he would take control of any wagering that was done, and take a healthy commission. In fact, handled properly, a duel like this could become a major event in Raguza. He snorted with laughter as he realised that if he took control, he could charge admission. Plenty of the sailors in port would pay good money to see two of their peers fight to the death.

  Brawling and murdering in back alleys was one thing. But an organised, properly sanctioned duel was a different matter. On the whole, he liked the idea. A thought struck him. This boy had let the older Skandian act for him before and that still rankled with the Korpaljo. He decided that wasn’t going to be an option this time.

  ‘One thing,’ he said, holding up a forefinger. ‘If I decide to allow this, you do your own fighting.’ He fixed a basilisk stare on Hal. ‘We’re not some fancy royal court here. We don’t allow challengers to appoint champions. If you challenge, you fight.’

  ‘He’s not challeng–’ Thorn tried to interrupt but Hal was too quick for him.

  ‘Yes, I am! I’m challenging and I’ll fight,’ he snapped.

  Zavac looked at him. Young, inexperienced, flushed with anger. The boy had victim written all over him, he thought.

  ‘And I accept,’ he said, a cruel smile on his face.

  Thorn sank back in his seat. They were committed now. There was nothing he could do to change it. He knew that Mihaly would never allow Hal to back down, even if Thorn could persuade him to. The Korpaljo wanted to teach them a lesson for the subterfuge they had pulled, letting him think Thorn was the captain of the Heron. He heard Stig whisper a curse, saw Lydia regarding Hal with wide-eyed concern. Hal stared straight ahead, his chin set, his shoulders back.

  ‘Then it’s agreed,’ Mihaly said in a silky voice. The more he thought about this duel, the better he liked the idea. The young Skandian would almost certainly be killed. Zavac was an experienced and wily fighter, he knew. That would teach the Skandians a lesson for lying to him. And he could still expel Zavac from Raguza, as he had already decided. All around, a good result, he thought.

  ‘You’re the injured party, Skandian,’ Mihaly continued. ‘That means you have the choice of weapons. What will it be? Swords? Axes? Knives?’

  Knives, Mihaly hoped. Without realising it, he was rubbing his hands in anticipation. With axes or swords, one quick lucky stroke could finish it all in seconds. A knife fight was likely to be a more prolonged affair, and it appealed to the Raguzan temperament.

  Swords, Thorn was thinking. Hal’s good with a sword, and I can work with him and make him better, so he’s ready to face this snake in the grass.

  Then Hal sprang his second surprise of the morning.

  ‘Ships,’ he said.

  ‘Ships?’ both Thorn and Zavac exclaimed at the same moment. Thorn frowned and turned to his young friend.

  ‘What are you talking about, Hal?’

  Hal met his gaze evenly. ‘Ships,’ he repeated calmly. ‘I’ll back my ship against that black barge of his any day. And my crew against his band of cowards.’ He hesitated, as a thought struck him for the first time, and he looked at Stig. ‘That’s if you and the others are willing,’ he said.

  A wide smile spread slowly over Stig’s face.

  ‘Count me in,’ he said. ‘And I’ll speak for the others. Count us all in.’

  ‘And me,’ Lydia said promptly. Hal nodded gratefully to the two of them.

  Thorn shook his head angrily. ‘Well, me too, of course. I’m with you!’

  Hal smiled at him. ‘I always knew you would be.’

  ‘But have you thought about this?’ Thorn went on.

  Hal nodded. ‘I have. I usually think this sort of thing through.’

  ‘You haven’t missed out on any little details?’ Stig asked mischievously.

  Hal eyed him seriously. ‘No. For once I haven’t.’ He took a deep breath, assailed by the sudden doubt that perhaps he had forgotten something. He couldn’t think of anything, but then, he thought, if there were some detail he’d forgotten, he wouldn’t be able to think of it.

  Mihaly rolled his eyes. This was all becoming tiresome, he thought.

  ‘If we’re finished playing All Friends Together, can we get on with it?’ he said. He looked at Zavac. ‘Are you happy with this idea? To fight ship to ship?’

  Zavac smiled. ‘I’m more than happy with it,’ he said. The Raven was nearly twice the size of Heron and his crew was nearly four times as large. As far as he was concerned, Hal had just put his own neck, and that of all his friends, into a noose. And Zavac held the end of the rope. ‘In fact, I can’t wait to send his skiff to the bottom of the sea.’

  Already, in his imagination, he could feel the shuddering, grinding impact as the Raven’s ram smashed its way through the little ship’s planks, opening her hull to an unstoppable inrush of water.

  ‘Then all that remains is to set a time,’ Mihaly said.

  Hal answered promptly. ‘Midmorning. The day after tomorrow.’ By the middle of the morning, the breeze was usually blowing briskly. Later in the day, he knew, the growing heat meant that it tapered off and became fluky.

  Zavac shrugged. He had no real idea of Heron’s sailing qualities. ‘I’ve got no objection.’

  Mihaly made a note and rubbed his hands. A duel between ships, he thought. This was going to be fascinating. He’d seen the Heron and knew she was much smaller than Zavac’s ship. But the young Skandian seemed very confident. Perhaps he had some trick up his sleeve. He knew that a fight between the two ships would arouse a lot of interest among the people of Raguza, and the pirate crews who were currently in harbour. The timing would give him plenty of opportunity to publicise the event and set up wagering booths around the town.

  ‘The duel must take place in sight of the harbour,’ he said. ‘No more than two or three kilometres offshore.’

  Both Zavac and Hal nodded.

  ‘I’ll have buoys set up marking the battleground. A square area with sides . . . three kilometres long. You’ll fight inside that space,’ he added, and both skippers indicated their assent.

  Set up what you like, Hal was thinking, I’ll go anywhere I please if I have the chance to sink Raven. He glanced at Zavac and had the sudden insight that the Magyaran was thinking the same thing.

  ‘Very well then,’ Mihaly said, a satisfied smile on his face. The morning had turned out much better than he had expected. ‘We’ll see each other again the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘One thing,’ Zavac said. ‘When I win, will you revoke the expulsion order? After all, there’ll be no further conflict between me and the Skandians, so there’ll be no potential for trouble in the town.’

  The Korpaljo pushed out his bottom lip as he considered the point. Thorn let out a short bark of laughter and Mihaly turned his gaze on him.

  ‘Something amusing?’ h
e said.

  Thorn shrugged. ‘It just reminds of me the classic recipe for bear stew,’ he said, and as Mihaly frowned, not understanding, he continued. ‘The recipe begins: First, kill a large bear.’ He looked at Zavac, his eyes narrowing. ‘First, you have to sink the Heron,’ he said. ‘And that might be a little harder than you expect.’

  Stig and Lydia both laughed in their turn. Zavac swept his gaze across them. The girl and the tall boy were looking confident, he thought. He noted that Hal’s face was pale and set in determined lines.

  ‘I’ll take my chances on that,’ he sneered.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ Stig asked. They were back on board the Heron. The rest of the crew were gathered around, sitting in a circle in the stern of the ship.

  When they had arrived back from the Korpal tower, the others had gathered round, eager to hear what had happened. As Hal had opened his mouth to tell them, Stig held up a hand to stop him.

  ‘Let me,’ he said. He quickly outlined the events that had taken place, ending with the news of Hal’s challenge to Zavac.

  ‘Lydia and I are both with him,’ he said finally. ‘What about the rest of you?’

  There was no hesitation. The crew responded with a roar of assent. Hal shook his head gratefully. It was Ingvar who put into words what everyone was thinking.

  ‘After all,’ he said, ‘in spite of what Erak might think or say, we’re the Heron brotherband, aren’t we? And together, we can do anything we set our minds to.’

  When the Andomal had been stolen, Erak, the Skandian Oberjarl, had ordered all mention of the Heron brotherband expunged from the records at Hallasholm’s Great Hall. That shame still rankled with the crew. There was a low growl of agreement from the others as he finished speaking.

  Now, in answer to Stig’s question, Hal gathered his thoughts. The crew leaned forward expectantly. As always, Thorn stood aside from the group, propped casually against the sternpost. He was a highly respected senior warrior, and it would be all too easy for the young crew to turn to him for advice. But Hal was the skirl of this ship and Thorn knew he must do nothing to undermine the young man’s authority. Besides, he admitted to himself, Hal was a much better thinker and planner than he was. He’d undoubtedly come up with much better ideas than Thorn could muster. Thorn’s planning tended to centre round one concept – finding the nearest enemy to hit, then hitting him as hard as possible.

 

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