The Invaders

by John Flanagan

  They shared the weight between them. As he reached the ship, Hal assessed the rapidly rising water around the ship’s prow. Thankfully, they wouldn’t need Ingvar’s massive strength to shove off.

  “Get aboard!” he yelled. “Stig, Jesper, shove us off!”

  He ran aft to the tiller. The Heron slid smoothly into deeper water as Stig and Jesper shoved against the bow. As she began to move freely, they leapt for the bulwark. Willing hands heaved them aboard.

  “Stig! Stefan! Starboard sail up!” Hal ordered.

  The ropes shrieked through the wooden blocks as Stig and Stefan heaved, sending the starboard yardarm and sail soaring up the mast, to fall into place with a dull clunk. The ship began to turn head into the wind and Hal let it go for a few seconds, then worked the tiller back and forth to bring her farther around.

  As Ulf and Wulf brought the sail in, the wind caught it and Heron turned faster. Thorn, without being told, leaned on the fin and shoved it down. Hal felt the positive response as the ship held course more firmly. He brought the Heron round until the wind was astern. Ulf and Wulf let the sail right out to run before the wind and Heron began to move faster and faster. The chuckle of waves against her bow and down her hull grew louder and more rapid. Then she was cutting a white wake through the water as she headed for the harbor mouth to intercept Raven.

  Thorn joined Hal at the steering platform. They cast anxious gazes ahead, looking for the first sight of Raven or Wolfwind.

  “D’you think we’re in time?” Hal asked. There was a note of desperation in his voice. They had been so close to catching Zavac. So close to retrieving the Andomal. So close to being able to return home.

  Thorn shrugged. One thing he had learned over the years was not to prejudge a situation. If they were in time, so be it. If not, they’d have a long chase after the Raven.

  The setting sun was dropping close to the horizon now, and they peered ahead into its glare, shading their eyes. So far, they could see nothing.

  Svengal and his crew had rounded the bottom end of the harbor and were halfway back along the western quay before the Raven, raised by the incoming tide, finally drifted free of the mud bank.

  As they ran past her, several of his men had yelled abuse and threats.

  “Save your breath,” Svengal told his crew. “You’ll need it for running.”

  Now he glanced back over his shoulder as he saw the Raven begin to move again. Wolfwind was only a hundred meters away. If Raven had a clear run out of the harbor, they would have no chance of intercepting her. But she had to pick her way carefully through the moored fishing boats and punts, and after his mistake with the mud bank, Zavac wasn’t taking any further chances. He was moving slowly and deliberately.

  Then the Skandians were clambering aboard Wolfwind and there was an urgent rattle of oars as the crew ran them out through the oarlocks. Svengal had only ten men with him—the rest of his crew were still chasing down stray Magyarans in Limmat’s back streets. But ten should be enough. They could hold Zavac and his men until Thorn and the Herons arrived to help.

  They’d still be outnumbered by the pirates, he thought. But then a savage grin lit his face. Being outnumbered didn’t worry him. They were Skandians, after all.

  He heaved on the tiller as the men began to row, five oars a side. There was a narrow creek through the marshes where they’d left Wolfwind, leading to the open sea. Glancing toward the harbor, he could see Raven’s tall mast, seeming to glide over the intervening sand and mud banks of the marshes. She was picking up speed as she came to the clearer waters of the harbor, but they had a lead over her.

  It was going to be close, he thought. No time for fancy maneuvering—just cut her off, run alongside and board her. They’d have one chance. Once Raven reached the open sea, she’d outdistance them easily.

  But Wolfwind, lightened as she was for her passage through the marshes, was responding more willingly than he’d expected. The men bent to their oars without any need for him to urge them, and the hull, drawing only twenty or thirty centimeters of water, flew down the creek and out into the open sea.

  He glanced over his shoulder again. Raven was almost to the harbor mouth now and she’d hit full speed as well. The relative positions of the two ships remained constant and he realized they were holding their own with her. But his men would be the first to tire in this race, he knew.

  Hurry up, Thorn, Svengal thought. We’re going to need you.

  chapter forty - one

  As the Raven cleared the harbor mouth, Zavac pounded the tiller triumphantly. They were clear!

  Then he felt a start of surprise as he saw another ship emerging from the marshes. He hadn’t noticed it because, without its tall mast, Wolfwind was almost indistinguishable among the sand islands and scrubby trees of the marshes.

  But now she was in clear water, a white bow wave at her prow. She looked like an overgrown rowing skiff, he thought. But she was moving fast through the water, and he could see the horned helmets of her crew.

  Skandians.

  His eyes narrowed as he studied her more closely and his spirits began to lift after the initial shock of seeing her. He counted the oars—five a side. So she had only ten men aboard her, while he had more than forty.

  He could fight her, of course. But there was no need. And he had no wish to tangle with Skandians, even ten of them. Instead, he would bear away to port and leave her in his wake. The Skandian ship could never maintain the killing pace Raven was setting at the moment, not with only ten men rowing. He glanced at the sun, where it seemed to balance on the rim of the horizon, huge and red. In half an hour it would be full dark and he could make his escape. He leaned against the tiller, preparing to angle the ship to port, away from the speeding wolfship. The longer he could evade her, the more he could drag the race out, and the more tired the Skandian oarsmen would become.

  And the farther behind the Skandian ship would fall. A smile began to spread over his face.

  “Sail! Sail on the port bow.”

  Zavac’s smile vanished in a flash. He swung round to where his lookout was pointing. It was that cursed ship with the strange triangular sail. She was running before the wind, spray sheeting up to either side as her bow cut through the water. She was farther out to sea and moving faster than he was. He could see that she would easily cut him off if he held to this course.

  There was only one course open to him. Head back to starboard, back toward the wolfship.

  And ram her.

  Svengal saw the black ship turn back toward him. He’d felt a moment of triumph as Heron had appeared round the headland, speeding to cut the pirates off. Now it faded as he saw what Zavac had in mind. Wolfwind was the only obstacle between the Raven and freedom and he could see the pace of her oar strokes increasing as she headed straight for him.

  “Pull!” he yelled at his crew. “Pull for your lives!”

  If he turned away, the Raven would easily overtake Wolfwind and run her down. His only chance was to wait until the last moment, then cut across the Raven’s bow. If he could evade that first attempt at ramming, they’d survive. Zavac wouldn’t turn back for a second run, not with Heron speeding down on her. His men strained and heaved, gasping with the effort. Svengal leaned forward, frowning as he measured angles, speeds and distance, and saw they were going to pass clear. They would avoid that deadly ram by a few meters.

  But that was enough. They’d won!

  Then he realized that the Raven had increased her pace.

  “There they are!”

  It was Stig who screamed out the first sighting of the two ships. Hal craned down to peer under the sail and saw them.

  Raven was heading away from Wolfwind, her oars whipping the water to foam down her flanks. But as they saw her, she obviously sighted them, and after a few seconds, she swung away, heading back to starboard.

  Now Raven and Wolfwind were on a collision course as Svengal tried desperately to cut across Raven’s bow. Thorn was beside Hal at the s
teering platform and they watched anxiously as the two ships drew closer and closer.

  “She’s going to make it!” Hal screamed. But Thorn’s long experience told him otherwise.

  “Raven is foxing,” he said quietly. Hal’s triumph turned to horror as he saw that Thorn was right. Raven had begun to move faster and her ram was heading like an arrow toward Wolfwind’s fragile side.

  At the last moment, seeing the collision was inevitable, Svengal played his final, desperate card.

  As the Raven’s bow bore down on them, he screamed an order to his men.

  “Everyone to port! To port! Now!”

  It seemed an insane order. The black ship was bearing down on their port side and every instinct was to escape to starboard. But Svengal knew if they did that, the hull would heel, exposing its lower reaches to the ram.

  This way, the weight of the crew moving to port heeled the ship toward the Raven, so that when the ram smashed and splintered into their ship, it did so much higher on the hull.

  The terrible, smashing impact threw Svengal from his feet and he sprawled on the deck, staring at the massive rent that the ram had torn in his ship. Vaguely, he could hear the triumphant shouts of the pirate crew, and the cries of several of his men who had been injured in the collision. But he regained his feet and yelled orders at his uninjured men.

  “Fend her off! Get oars and fend her off!”

  Seawater was pouring into the ship around the edges of the ram. It was an iron-shod beam that projected two meters ahead of the Raven’s bow below the waterline, and it had punched a thirty-centimeter-square hole in Wolfwind’s side. For the moment, it was still firmly embedded in the wolfship and, to a large extent, was plugging the hole. But when the Raven’s crew backed water and withdrew, the sea would gush in and Svengal and his men would have only minutes to save their ship.

  Four of his men had oars now and they were trying to shove Wolfwind free of the ram. But the ships were jammed tight together and their efforts were having little effect. Then Svengal heard an order from the stern of the Raven, and her crew began to back water, withdrawing and leaving the Wolfwind to wallow with a huge gap in her bulwarks and hull. Now the sea rushed in in earnest and Svengal heard Zavac’s mocking laughter as the Raven turned away and headed west.

  Even as Svengal grabbed a bucket and yelled for his men to start bailing, he knew it was hopeless. He didn’t have enough men to stem the flow of water into the stricken ship. Without help, she was doomed.

  And he knew that losing Wolfwind like this would break Erak’s heart. His old friend would never forgive him.

  The crew of the Heron heard the crunching impact of the two ships across the intervening water. Someone groaned, probably without even realizing it, reflecting Wolfwind’s agony as the cruel ram savaged her sleek hull.

  They saw Svengal’s last-minute attempt to minimize the damage. But as the Raven backed slowly away, they could see that the rent in Wolfwind’s hull was too big for her reduced crew to handle.

  Raven pulled away from Wolfwind, leaving her listing in the water. She would have sunk already, had it not been for the fact that, without mast and ballast stones, she was riding high in the water. But they could all see that she was critically hurt and it was only a matter of time before she went under.

  “Raven’s turning toward us!” Edvin called from the bow.

  Hal had thought that Raven would try to escape downwind. Now he watched her shape foreshorten as the black ship swung to point at the Heron. It seemed that Zavac, having dealt with Wolfwind, was now seeking to make sure there was no ship left to pursue him. The oars began their steady beat, and a white bow wave formed at the pirate ship’s waterline. As she rose on successive waves, the huge ram could be seen clearly.

  Heron was angled to pass in front of the other ship. Hal crouched at the tiller, peering forward, using the forestay as a reference point. The angle to Raven was changing slowly, which indicated that the two ships were not on a collision course. If both ships maintained their current courses and speeds, the Raven would pass safely astern of the Heron. It would be close, but Heron would be safe.

  Which was exactly what Svengal had thought, he realized. He narrowed his eyes, watching the rhythm of Raven’s oars. Her crew were rowing fast, but he thought they probably had a little in reserve.

  Thorn had come aft and was standing close by him.

  “Be careful,” he warned.

  Hal nodded. “I know.” His gaze was still riveted on Raven, watching for the inevitable increase in pace. He glanced quickly forward, to where the inert form of Ingvar lay, wrapped in blankets on the deck by the mast. If only they had thought to reload the Mangler, he thought, he could give Zavac a nasty surprise as the ships drew closer. But then he dismissed the idea. In a tight situation like this, he knew he’d never hand the tiller over to Stig.

  There! The oars had increased their rate, almost imperceptibly. But because he was looking for it, he saw it, saw the white bow wave grow a little higher. He crouched, using the forestay as a reference once more. Now the bearing to the Raven remained constant. They were on a collision course and the huge ram was aimed implacably at Heron’s heart.

  Thorn saw his movement and realized, a few seconds after Hal had done, that the Raven had increased speed.

  “He’s—”

  “I saw it.”

  The two ships swept on. Hal’s forehead was creased in concentration and he was aware that every eye in the Heron was now on him. If he turned too soon, Raven could spin quickly after him and, in these conditions, under oars, catch him before he could gather speed and ram him from astern. To escape, he had to wait till the last moment, letting the other skipper believe he hadn’t noticed the increase in speed, then slip past to safety so they were heading on diverging courses. Zavac would make one attempt, he thought. If Hal could keep his speed up and slip past, it would take too long for the pirate to go about and follow after him. Zavac would like to sink them, but his prime concern was to escape into the gathering darkness.

  Raven was awfully close now. She loomed larger and larger in his vision, rising and falling on successive waves, revealing that awful ram like a huge fang. Thorn shifted nervously beside him. There wasn’t a sound from the Heron’s crew.

  For one terrible moment, Hal thought he had misjudged the distance. He pushed the sudden panic aside. He was about to cross Raven’s bow. He saw Zavac alter course slightly to port, then he shoved the tiller far out, yelling to Ulf and Wulf as he did so.

  “Ease the sheets! Now!”

  Heron had been sailing with the port sail hauled in tight. Now, as her head swung to port, the twins cast off the sheets and let the sail right out, with the wind behind it. They surged back the way they had been coming, too late for Zavac to counter their radical change of course. Silently, Hal gave thanks for the fin, and the extra speed and turning ability it gave the Heron.

  Thorn was right, he thought. Speed and agility are our best weapons.

  Zavac tried to match the Heron’s turn, hauling on the tiller to bring the bow round at them, but he was too late and the Raven’s response was too slow. The two ships slid past each other, Raven’s bow actually cutting through the disturbed water of their wake. The crew of the Heron cheered wildly as they saw the enraged pirates slipping past them.

  At the Raven’s tiller, Zavac shook his fist, his face dark with rage. Then Hal saw a sudden panic sweep over the pirate as he ducked hurriedly beneath the bulwark, releasing the tiller as he did so, so that the Raven yawed wildly off course, angling still farther away from the Heron. A second after Zavac ducked, one of Lydia’s darts hissed viciously through the space he’d occupied, to thud, quivering, into the stern post.

  “Missed!” she said in disgust. Then the two ships were past each other and the gap between them was widening.

  “Raven’s setting sail!” That was Edvin, in the bow. They all looked and saw the vast square sail falling from her crossyard, filling with the wind as her crew sheeted
home. She began to gather speed.

  Hal watched her, measuring wind and sea conditions. With the wind over her quarter like this, she was on her best point of sailing. But in these conditions, Heron was probably a little faster. All he had to do was turn after her.

  “We could be up with her in two or three hours,” he said.

  Thorn nodded. But he said nothing. Hal was the skirl. The decision was his.

  Hal watched in a frenzy of indecision. Heron was set on a course midway between Raven and Wolfwind. He had to choose. His gaze darted from the Raven back to Wolfwind, seeing the wolfship lying lower in the water with each minute. If he did nothing, she would sink and her crew would drown—within sight of land.

  But the Raven was escaping. The Raven, and Zavac, with the Andomal, Skandia’s greatest treasure.

  She was escaping, and the only chance Hal and his friends had of redeeming themselves, of living a normal life in their home country, lay in going after her. If they didn’t get the Andomal back, they would remain outcasts and pariahs, with no country, no future, no honor. With each minute, the Raven was pulling away. Soon it would be dark and he’d lose sight of her. She’d be gone.

  And so would any hope for his future happiness. He had to decide. And he had to decide now.

  He took a deep breath as he realized there was no decision to make. There was only one course he could follow. No matter what the future held, he would have to live with himself.

  “Stand by to come about,” he called. “We’re going to help Wolfwind.”

  chapter forty - two

  They came about in a smooth curve and began to accelerate toward the stricken wolfship.

  “Get buckets and bailers!” Hal shouted. “Anything that’ll hold water! Once we come alongside, get on board Wolfwind and start bailing!”

  Lydia approached him. “Is there anything I can do?”

  He nodded curtly. “Like the rest of them. Get hold of a bucket and bail the water out of her. We have to lighten her or she’ll go down.”