02 The Invaders

by John Flanagan

  “Come to port a little,” he said. As the bow swung to a point midway between the towers, he raised his hands and Stig steadied on that course. Automatically, Ulf and Wulf adjusted the sail to the new direction.

  “Shall I load up?” Ingvar asked eagerly. But Hal shook his head. The longer the Mangler was kept under tension, the greater the strain on its limbs, string and trigger mechanism. They wouldn’t be shooting for some minutes, so there was no point in risking an accidental breakage.

  “Relax,” he said, his eyes narrowing as both towers came into full view. He pictured the scene on the walkway that surrounded the east tower as the lookout, lounging on the railing, eyes half closed and drowsy after a big lunch, suddenly became aware that a strange ship was approaching—and approaching fast.

  There would be a moment’s confusion and indecision. Then he would sound the alarm—either a bell or a horn—Hal assumed. He turned his head slightly toward the tower, testing to see if he could hear either. But the distance was too great. All he could hear was the regular hiss of the sea as the Heron’s sharp prow cut through it and sent it streaming down either side of the ship—that and the regular soft thump as she came down in successive troughs.

  “They’ve seen us,” Thorn said. Hal marveled at his old friend’s keen eyesight. Then, as they traveled a few meters closer, he could make out the tiny dark shapes running along the harbor mole and mounting the ladder to the watchtowers. There seemed to be a lot of them, he thought, but at this distance, it was impossible to estimate their numbers. And now, he realized, he could hear the alarm, a wailing, undulating blast on a horn.

  They were two hundred meters from the harbor entrance. Hal opened his mouth to call to Stig. At this stage, he didn’t want to get within arrow range of the towers. But as he went to give an order, Stig swung the Heron smoothly to starboard. The ship raced parallel to the shore now. She was heeled a little too far and Hal turned to issue another order. But Ulf and Wulf forestalled him, easing the sheets so that she rode more upright. He glanced up and met Lydia’s eye. She had noticed how Stig and the twins had anticipated his orders and she smiled tightly at him.

  She’s nervous, he thought.

  “Looks like I’m not needed,” he said, planning to steady her nerves with the joke. He was surprised to find that his voice was slightly higher pitched than normal.

  I’m nervous too, he thought.

  He realized he was sitting forward on the Mangler’s small seat, shoulders and body tensed. He leaned back, forcing his muscles to relax. He glanced back down the ship to where the crew members crouched at their stations. None of them appeared to be as edgy as he felt. He hoped he looked as confident as they did.

  Stig swung the ship back to run in the opposite direction. Stefan and Edvin attended to the changeover of sails. Hal felt the giant crossbow move smoothly under him as Ingvar tested its motion. He had a long stout pole inserted into the tail of the carriage and he could swivel the Mangler through a ninety-degree arc—forty-five degrees either side of the bow post. Hal glanced up at him and the big boy grinned.

  “Just testing,” he said.

  Hal nodded. He didn’t want to speak again in case his voice was too high-pitched.

  “Anyone see any sign of Barat and his men?” Lydia asked suddenly. They were passing the spot where the Limmatan force should be hidden in the tree line.

  “Well, I certainly can’t,” Ingvar responded, with a wide grin. Hal glanced at him again. The huge boy’s nerves seemed as steady as a rock, he thought. About to go into action for the first time and here he was, coolly cracking jokes about his own short-sightedness.

  “Thought I saw a movement in the trees a few seconds ago,” Thorn said. “But that might just have been because I know they should be there somewhere.”

  “Well, if we can’t see them, neither can the pirates,” Hal said.

  “If they’re there,” Ingvar said scornfully. He’d witnessed Barat’s overbearing manner with Hal and he had a very low opinion of the townspeople’s battle commander.

  “They’ll be there,” Lydia said quietly.

  Ingvar glanced in her direction. “Sorry, Lydia,” he said. After all, he’d just insulted her countrymen. She waved the apology aside.

  “Barat can be an almighty pain and a pompous idiot,” she said. “But he’s a good commander and a good fighter. He won’t let us down.”

  A ragged line of splashes threw up spray twenty meters inshore of the racing ship. Arrows from the watchtower, Hal thought. They were still outside the maximum range. Just then one arrow, launched from a more powerful bow, rattled against the starboard bulwark and fell into the sea. Its energy was spent and it didn’t have enough force behind it to penetrate the timber.

  But it was a warning of what they would face when they went closer.

  “Are you ready, Thorn?” he asked. The small shields his friend was carrying seemed a little inadequate.

  “I’m ready. Don’t worry about me. Just keep your mind on your shooting,” was the calm reply. And suddenly, Hal’s concerns were eased. Thorn knew what he was doing, he thought. The small shields might not have been Hal’s choice, but Thorn knew more about this sort of thing than he ever would.

  As they sailed past the first tower, approaching the second, Thorn used one of the shields to shade his eyes, peering into the tangle of reeds and low-lying islands that marked the swamp.

  “I can see Wolfwind!” he said. “She’s almost reached the starting point. There—just to the left of those two slanting trees.”

  Hal followed his gaze. There were two scrubby trees on a sand island close to the edge of the marsh. With so little purchase for their roots, the wind had caused both of them to lean to one side. Looking to the left, he saw a slight movement, then made out the low hull of Wolfwind as she passed through an open channel.

  He looked back to the watchtower. They were close enough to see details now and it appeared that every eye was on the Heron. So far, the plan was working. Nobody on either watchtower had any idea of the threat that was creeping toward them through the marshes.

  “Stig!” he called, forgetting in the heat of the moment that he had Edvin stationed to relay his orders. “Take us out to sea, then come in to attack the east tower.”

  With the Mangler only capable of firing in a restricted arc either side of the bow, he’d have to attack the tower head on, then turn away and head back out to sea. Then they’d turn again to carry out a similar attack on the western tower. That way, he would have less sideways correction to allow for, as he would be heading almost directly for his target. And he’d present a smaller target to the defenders, rather than the full length of the hull.

  The disadvantage was that he and the others in the bow of the Heron would bear the brunt of the return shots from the towers. Still, he was confident that Thorn would look after that part. And Lydia, he thought. They had discussed her role several days before. If any of the archers on the tower became too accurate, it would be her task to eliminate them.

  They were three hundred meters offshore now and Stig swung the ship in an arc. They’d attack the towers one after the other, repeating the attacks until they had exhausted their ammunition, or the garrisons in the towers were neutralized—whichever came first.

  There was a third alternative, of course. There was always the chance that the men in the tower might just do a little neutralizing of their own. But Hal didn’t care to think about that.

  Peering over the sights of the crossbow, he was aware, with a detached part of his mind, of the crew hoisting and adjusting sails, then Heron steadied on her course.

  “Load her, Ingvar,” he said.

  His giant friend leaned forward, seized the two cocking handles of the Mangler and drew the limbs back until the cord clicked into place over the retaining latch. Then Ingvar selected the first of the meter-long bolts and laid it in the groove on top of the weapon, ensuring that the notch at the rear end was engaged with the thick cord.

  Hal
was aware that Thorn had moved to a position in the bow, crouching under the bow post. When Ingvar reloaded, he would stand and provide protection with the two small shields.

  Now Ingvar moved behind the crossbow, and took hold of the traversing pole. Hal peered over the sights.

  “Left a little… left… left… back right…”

  To avoid confusion, they had agreed that for steering orders to Edvin, he would use the terms port and starboard. Aiming directions for Ingvar would be given as left or right.

  He peered down the sights of the crossbow, watching the tower rise and fall as the ship went up and over successive waves. An arrow flashed into the sea just off the port bow. They were coming into range. He heard a rapid rattling sound as three arrows struck the bow. Something hit the deck to one side of him. Not an arrow. Possibly a stone flung by a slinger.

  “Everybody stay down,” he called, without taking his eyes off the tower, which was looming closer and closer. His left hand turned the elevating cog smoothly, raising the bow so that the sight was centered on the pinewood railing of the tower. He wanted the first shot to be successful, so he was aiming at the largest possible target.

  An arrow zipped through the Heron’s sail.

  The tower seemed to fill his sights. He could see one of the defenders, distinctive in a bright green jacket, on the extreme left-hand end, aiming a recurve bow, drawing the arrow back. Then he released and Hal lost sight of the shaft.

  A few seconds later, it thudded, quivering, into the deck beside him. They were about seventy-five meters out.

  Then his sights and the target were aligned and he gently tugged on the trigger lanyard.

  SLAM!

  The Mangler bucked with the recoil and the bolt streaked away. A few seconds later, a section of the pine balustrade around the tower exploded in a hail of splinters as the heavy projectile smashed into it, then through it, cartwheeling among the defenders and knocking men over.

  Others were hit by the flying pine splinters. They reeled away in pain and panic, wondering what had hit them.

  The defenders, caught completely by surprise, dropped under the balustrade out of sight. The hail of arrows and projectiles suddenly ceased as they tried to work out what was happening.

  “Ready!” shouted Ingvar. He hadn’t waited to hear what happened with the first shot. He’d leapt forward to cock and load the Mangler. Lydia, seeing a way of helping, had crept forward on her knees, staying below the bulwark, and passed a fresh bolt to him.

  Hal wound the elevation screw, calling aiming directions to Ingvar. As ever, the Mangler had gone off line with the recoil of the first shot.

  “Left… left… left. Steady!”

  SLAM!

  The range was shorter now and the bolt hit with even greater force. It caught the very top of the railing, showering more of those deadly splinters into the air, and spinning end over end through the window of the guardhouse.

  “Come about!” Hal called, and as the Heron swung away from the eastern tower, the defenders belatedly came to life, and a hail of arrows and rocks followed her. One defender, with what seemed to Hal to be ridiculous optimism, even threw a spear after her.

  But only a few struck home. The ship’s speed and the rapidly widening distance left most of the missiles in her wake. Hal glanced back, leaning to one side to see past the sail. The tower’s balustrade had two large, ragged gaps torn in it.

  Ingvar was hopping eagerly from one foot to another.

  “How did we do?” he asked. “Did it work?”

  Hal had time to consider that Ingvar’s short-sightedness was actually an advantage in this situation. Since he couldn’t see the result of the shots, he wasn’t tempted to wait and watch. Once a bolt was on its way, he was instantly ready to recock and reload the massive weapon.

  “We did well,” Hal told him. “Two great holes in the tower railing and probably half a dozen of the enemy hit by splinters and put out of action.” He glanced at Lydia. “Good idea helping with the reloading.”

  She smiled at him. “Thanks. Did you notice that bowman in the green shirt? I might have to take care of him next time.”

  Hal nodded. “I’d be grateful if you would.” He grinned at Thorn. “You didn’t have much to do on that run,” he said.

  Thorn nodded. He didn’t return the grin.

  “They’ll be ready for us when we come back,” he said. “They’ll know what’s coming.”

  chapter thirty - three

  Zavac had set up his headquarters in Limmat’s counting house. It was the official administration building of the town, where taxes were set and collected, public works organized, and where, in normal times, the town council met to look after ongoing business.

  Zavac was using one of the larger offices to grade and separate the precious stones that were being delivered from the mine each day. The miners had struck a rich pocket of emeralds just before the pirate raid had overrun the town. In the days since, Zavac had kept them hard at work, delivering large numbers of stones each day. Now, he noticed, the daily yield was diminishing. The pocket was just about played out and soon it would be time to leave.

  He was holding one of the larger specimens up to the light, admiring the way the light’s rays refracted and reflected inside the stone, when the door of the room burst open. One of his men stood there, panting heavily, sweat showing on his face. He had obviously been running hard.

  He hesitated as Zavac lowered the stone and glared at him.

  “What?” the Raven’s captain demanded, his voice harsh.

  The man took several deep breaths. “There’s a ship,” he said finally.

  Zavac raised one eyebrow. “A ship?” he repeated. “A ship? You come bursting in here without knocking to tell me there’s a ship?”

  The man looked back the way he had come. With Zavac, he reflected, you could never win. If he hadn’t been told about the approach of the strange ship, he would have flown into a rage, striking out at those around him.

  “It’s heading for the harbor mouth,” he said.

  Zavac spread his hands in a sarcastic gesture. “And?”

  “I… well… we thought… you should be told.”

  “Is it a big ship?” Zavac asked. “A wolfship or a warship of some kind?”

  “No. It’s… small. But maybe you should take a look at it.”

  Zavac sighed heavily. He placed the emerald back in the tray on the table in front of him, then took the tray to a heavily reinforced wooden locker in the corner. He placed it inside, deliberately turned the key in the lock and placed it in his pocket. Then he regarded his subordinate once more.

  “Very well,” he said. “Let’s see this ship.”

  He led the way out of the office, locking the door behind them. His crewman followed anxiously behind him, half trotting to keep up with Zavac’s long stride.

  They made their way down the broad thoroughfare to the harbor front, Zavac enjoying the way the citizens of Limmat shrank back from him as he passed. At the quay, he turned left and strode toward the boom, protected either side by the watchtowers.

  He paused some fifty meters from the eastern tower. From here, on the inland side, he could see no sign of the damage the Mangler had inflicted in Heron’s first attack. He could hear voices shouting from the watchtower, but that was only to be expected. The members of the watch were probably yelling defiance at the interloper. Beyond, out to sea and obviously retreating, he could see a neat little ship, with a triangular sail.

  He’d seen that ship before, he thought. Then he realized where. It was the ship belonging to the crew of young Skandians from under whose noses he’d stolen the priceless Andomal. His lip curled in anger.

  Then he shook his head impatiently. The ship was small. She carried a crew of less than a dozen. And the harbor was protected by the two watchtowers and the massive log boom across the entrance.

  He turned on his crewman, cuffing him across the head.

  “You idiot!” he snarled. “They�
�re boys, and there can’t be more than ten of them! What possible harm do you think they can do us?”

  The hapless pirate, who had left to alert Zavac before the Heron launched her attack, had no answer to the question. He cowered away from the furious captain.

  “I thought—”

  Zavac cut him off furiously. “Then don’t think in the future! You haven’t got the equipment for it!”

  Turning on his heel, he stalked back toward the counting house.

  “And see I’m not bothered again!” he threw back over his shoulder.

  In the western watchtower, the commander appointed by Zavac watched with horrified fascination as what looked like a small Skandian wolfship launched her attack on his comrades across the harbor.

  He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. There appeared to be some huge weapon in the bow of the ship, shooting heavy projectiles at the eastern tower. While he couldn’t make out the details of the weapon—possibly a large crossbow, he thought—or the projectiles themselves, the results were all too obvious.

  He heard the shattering cracks as the bolts slammed into the pine balustrade across the harbor, and saw the hail of deadly splinters as they flew among the defenders. He could also make out the bolt as it spun end over end through the crowd of men on the walkway, scything several of them down. He heard their screams. Then the ship turned away and headed out to sea.

  Now she was turning back. His eyes narrowed as he saw her settle on course and realized she was heading straight for him. The western tower was obviously the next target.

  His mind raced. The biggest danger, it seemed to him, was the hail of splinters that each shot sent flying in its wake. The projectile itself might hit one or two people, but the splinters could put half a dozen others out of action. A dozen or more splinters would create a deadly hail with each single shot.

  He looked round, searching for something to nullify their effect, and his gaze landed on the guardhouse in the center of the platform. There were half a dozen bunks in there, where men could rest and relax while they were off duty. And bunks meant bedding.