Duncan, who seemed now to have totally adopted Thorn as a friend and trusted confidant, slapped him on the shoulder and pulled him a little closer.
‘And if you think these two are bad, you should see Halt. He’s a senior Ranger and he shows no respect for me at all.’
‘That’s not quite true, sir,’ Gilan interjected. ‘He has enormous respect for you, so long as you agree with him.’
‘Yes. That’s true.’ Duncan released his grip on Thorn’s shoulder and took a second or two to collect himself.
‘All right,’ he said at length, ‘let me think about what we’ve discussed here.’ He looked at Gilan. ‘I’m still inclined to the idea of sending you with some reasonable force.’
Gilan shrugged. ‘That’s all right, sir. You’ll soon see the light of reason.’
Duncan sighed. ‘I suppose so.’ He looked keenly at Stig now, taking in the wide shoulders, the muscular build and the easy, athletic grace with which the young Skandian moved.
‘And you say this lad is as good as Horace?’ He addressed the question to Gilan.
‘Without a doubt. Different weapons and technique. But there’s nothing to choose between them.’
‘Hmmm. Pity Horace is in Hibernia. It’d be good to see a practice match between them.’ He came back to the matter in hand, and said briskly, ‘Very well. Let me give this some consideration and I’ll give you my decision tomorrow.’
He waved them towards the door. Crowley and Gilan gave slight bows of the head. The Skandians contented themselves with coming loosely to attention. As they passed through the door, Stig slipped up beside Hal.
‘Who’s this Horace that I’m a match for?’ he asked.
Hal managed to keep a straight face as he replied. ‘He’s a one-legged, half-blind old beggar who suffers from uncontrollable flatulence.’
‘Flatulence? What’s that?’ Stig asked. Words of more than two syllables sometimes confused him.
‘He farts,’ Thorn put in.
Stig thought about it, then nodded his head. ‘Yeah, well, I can do that.’
Hal and Thorn both answered simultaneously.
‘We know.’
The three Herons split up and went to their rooms to unpack and familiarise themselves with their new surroundings. Like Lydia, they had little in the way of luggage or belongings and the unpacking took only a few minutes.
As the skirl, Hal had been given a large suite to himself. There was a jug of water on the table in the sitting room, along with several beakers. He poured himself a glass and sipped it. For a minute or two, he prowled restlessly around the room, picking up items to examine them before putting them down again. After weeks in the close confines of the ship, never more than a few metres from other members of the crew, it felt strange to be on his own. He drained the last of the water from his glass and hitched his rump up onto the sill of the open window. Below him, and beyond the castle walls, the green parkland stretched out to the forest. He could see several people – couples walking in the sunshine, children playing. And of course, there were guards patrolling around the perimeter of the castle, their helmets, armour and spear points occasionally catching the sunlight.
He studied the surrounding land. The ground around the castle was landscaped with small shrubs and isolated trees. The grass was mown short and he realised that, beautiful as the grounds were, they were also highly practical. There was no cover to conceal any attacking force. The trees of the forest were at least a kilometre away and there would be no way an enemy could stage a surprise attack. Any attackers would be sighted long before they came within bowshot. He craned out and looked upwards. The turrets and spires of the castle were decorative. But they were also practical. Jutting out at each corner, their crenellated tops provided positions from which archers could sweep the ground below, close to the castle walls. And of course, any attacker trying to find shelter there would have had to cross the moat first.
Castle Araluen might be a spectacularly beautiful building, he thought, but it would also be a remarkably tough nut to crack. He glanced down into the courtyard, where a group of servants were drawing water from a well in the middle of the cobbles. With an internal water supply, it would be able to withstand a long siege.
There was a knock at the door and he shoved off from the windowsill and crossed the room to open it. The heavy wooden door was perfectly balanced. It swung easily and silently on its oiled hinges to reveal Ingvar standing in the corridor outside.
Hal was momentarily taken aback. He had half expected Stig or Thorn to be there, ready to discuss the meeting with Duncan. But he smiled and gestured for the massively built boy to come in.
‘Ingvar,’ he said. ‘Good to see you. Come on in. How’s your room? Did they get you that bigger bed they promised?’
A half smile touched Ingvar’s face, then quickly disappeared.
‘Yes. Yes, they did. It arrived only a minute or so after I moved in. They whipped the other one away and set up the new bed for me in a few minutes. They’re very efficient here.’
‘I guess that’s the way things are at a royal residence,’ Hal said. ‘So what can I do for you?’
For a moment, Ingvar was silent. He fidgeted with his hands, shifting his feet constantly. Hal could tell he was embarrassed and ill at ease. But when he finally spoke, the words hit the young skirl with the force of a thunderclap.
‘Hal, I’ve decided I want to leave the brotherband and go home to Skandia.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
HAL WAS SO startled by Ingvar’s words that he actually recoiled a pace. For several seconds, he was speechless. Ingvar – solid, reliable, powerful, loyal Ingvar. The idea of the Heron brotherband without him was unthinkable. He had always been there when Hal needed him. Immensely strong, with a quiet wisdom and a gentle sense of humour. Above all, Hal realised, it was the fact that he was so utterly dependable – a constant in their dangerous world – that made him so invaluable. Finally, he found his voice.
‘Ingvar, what is it? Is it something I’ve done? Has someone in the crew said something to insult you? I can’t believe what you’re saying!’
But Ingvar was shaking his head at the suggested reasons for his wanting to leave.
‘No, no, Hal. On the contrary, you and the rest of the brotherband have given me a sense of worth and a sense of purpose. Since I’ve been a Heron, I’ve realised that I’m not totally useless. I can actually contribute.’
‘Of course you can!’ Hal said. He gestured for Ingvar to take a seat at the table by the window and joined him there, leaning forward to appeal to him. ‘After all, ask that girl you carried back to the ship in Socorro. And you’re the only one with the sheer strength to load the Mangler. How would we have managed the fight against Zavac without you? Or the escape from the harbour in Socorro?’
Ingvar listened patiently to Hal’s list of his achievements. When his skirl finally fell silent, he spoke again, calmly and sadly.
‘The problem is, Hal, as I’ve become more confident, and learned to appreciate my own worth, I’ve realised how limited that worth is, compared to the rest of you. You’re all leaving me behind.’
Hal frowned. He felt a sense of panic. Ingvar seemed determined on his course and Hal could think of nothing to say that might change his mind. And if he couldn’t find the right words, the Herons would be left with an unfillable hole in their ranks.
‘I don’t understand, Ingvar. You’re part of the team. Part of the crew. We’ve been together since the very start. What can I say to change your mind?’
Ingvar smiled sadly and shook his head. ‘There’s nothing to say, Hal. I’ve loved my time with you and the others. But in Socorro, I realised that I would always be limited.’
‘But –’ Hal began desperately, only to subside as Ingvar held up a hand.
‘All the things you mentioned, Hal, they all boil down to one thing. I’m big and strong. That’s it. And that’s all I’ll ever be. The rest of you are growing and developing your skill
s and abilities. You’re an expert navigator and helmsman, and you can plan a raid like the one on the slave market.
‘Stig is becoming a more skilled warrior every day. And he’s a perfect first mate for you. Even Ulf and Wulf are becoming better fighters. So is Edvin, and he’s the smallest of all of us. And he’s becoming a good helmsman too.
‘As for Thorn – well, I doubt that there’s anything he can’t do. He’s fast, agile, powerful . . . No wonder he was the Maktig for three years.
‘Then there’s Lydia! She can track. She can hunt. She’s deadly with those darts of hers. And she’s totally fearless. She can even shoot the Mangler now as well as Stig can.
‘The point is, Hal, all of you are developing and growing. I’m not. I’ve reached my limit. I’m big and strong. I’m a dumb pack animal and that’s all I’ll ever be. I feel I’m not pulling my weight as part of the crew and it hurts to feel that way. I’d rather quit.’
Hal shook his head slowly. He’d had no idea that this feeling had been building in Ingvar. He’d realised that the massively built boy had been somewhat out of sorts for the previous few days . . . but this! He felt a deep sense of shame that, as Ingvar’s skirl, he’d allowed this situation to develop and hadn’t noticed it.
‘Of course you’re pulling your weight!’ he said. ‘What will we do without you?’
Ingvar smiled that sad little smile again. ‘You’ll manage. Two of the others can learn to load the Mangler. Or you could extend the cocking levers so one person could do it. I was thinking, you could fashion a tube of some kind, make two of them and slip them over the cocking handles. The extra leverage will make it possible for one person to do the job.’
Hal made a helpless gesture. ‘There you are! You’re a thinker! You’ve just come up with a way to improve the Mangler! How can you possibly say you’re not pulling your weight?’ He paused, trying to think back over the preceding weeks. ‘Has something happened to make you feel this way?’
Ingvar nodded. ‘There are a couple of things. Do you realise that when you shoot the Mangler, I can’t even see what’s happened? Someone has to tell me. Oh, Hal hit the helmsman and the ship has swung off course, or The bolt hit the guard tower and set it alight. Can you understand how frustrating that is?’
‘Yes, of course. But –’
‘But even worse than that: when we were making our way back to the ship in Socorro, with the released prisoners, remember how we came face to face with a platoon of Mahmel’s guards?’
Hal frowned uncomfortably. He thought he could see where Ingvar was heading with all this, where the problem lay.
‘Yes. I remember.’
‘Do you remember what you said to me?’
Hal spread his hands dismissively. ‘Oh, come on, Ingvar. You can’t have let that get you to this state –’
But Ingvar gently overrode him. ‘You said Stay back, Ingvar. Remember?’
‘Yes, but that was just because . . .’ Hal stopped, not wanting to proceed. But Ingvar finished the thought for him.
‘Because I can’t see. Everything beyond a few metres is a blur for me.’
‘That’s not your fault!’ Hal protested and Ingvar placed a hand on his arm to calm him.
‘No, it’s not. And it’s not your fault either. It’s just the way things are. I know why you said that and you were right. With my eyesight, I’d be a danger to the rest of you. I might accidentally hit one of you without realising. Worse, I might put you in danger because someone would have to watch out for me, and they might be hurt while they were doing it.’
Hal opened his mouth to protest, then shut it without saying a word. Ingvar was right. And he knew he was right. If Hal argued against the fact, Ingvar would know he was lying.
Ingvar noted his skirl’s silence and nodded. ‘Thanks for not trying to tell me I’m wrong. And the problem is, Hal, I’ll always be a burden to the rest of you when it comes to a fight. You simply can’t depend on me.’
‘But we don’t care!’ Hal said.
‘I do,’ Ingvar replied. And there was no answer to that, Hal knew. ‘There are only a few of us in the crew,’ Ingvar continued. ‘We’re not a big wolfship with a crew of twenty to thirty warriors. There are nine of us. We can’t afford passengers when it comes to a fight. Worse, you can’t afford to have someone who’ll distract another crew member and may leave him vulnerable in a battle.’
Hal dropped his gaze. Ingvar was right, he realised. But he was also wrong – so wrong.
‘Ingvar, you’re part of our brotherband. We accepted you for what you are – and as you are. If you pull out, you’ll be destroying something very valuable.’
‘You can always find someone to replace me, Hal. There are plenty of big, strong boys out there. And, as I said, strength is the only thing I bring to the Heron. But I couldn’t live with myself if someone was injured, or even killed, trying to look out for me. To tell the truth, I’m weary of being told to stand back whenever there’s a fight brewing. And there are going to be more and more occasions when we’re called upon to fight. Best if I make a clean break now.’
‘Oh, Ingvar.’ Hal felt a prickle of tears on his eyes. ‘You are so, so wrong. You bring so much more than just brute strength to the brotherband. You bring a sense of loyalty and humour and wisdom. In a way, you personify the very spirit of the brotherband. Can’t you see that?’
The minute the last four words left his mouth, he regretted them. Ingvar smiled that slow, sad smile again and shook his head.
‘No Hal. I can’t. I can’t see and that’s the whole point. This is hard for me. Please don’t make it harder by arguing.’
Hal slumped back in his chair and covered his face with his hands for a moment or two, his brain racing. Then he lowered his hands and sat up straighter once more.
‘All right. I’ve heard what you’ve said. I can see your point. But I think you are underestimating yourself and your value to me and the crew. Please don’t do anything about this for a day or so. Let me think. There must be something I can do.’
‘You can’t make me see any better, Hal.’
Hal set his jaw in a determined line. He stood and gestured for Ingvar to do the same, then led him to the window.
‘Look out there and tell me what you see,’ Hal said. He watched Ingvar closely as the big boy shrugged, then leaned forward to peer out the window.
‘I can see a green sort of blur in the foreground. I imagine that’s the park you’ve all talked about. Further out, the green becomes darker.’ Ingvar looked at Hal, a question on his face.
‘That’s the forest. It’s a darker green.’ Hal gestured out the window again. ‘Can you see anything else? Can you see any people?’
He watched closely as Ingvar leaned forward and squinted his eyes almost shut.
‘I can see water,’ he said, looking at the moat, ‘and is that a bridge just there?’
He was pointing to the drawbridge below them and to their left. Hal nodded eagerly.
‘Yes! That’s the drawbridge and the castle moat!’ he told his friend. ‘Can you make out the sentry at the far end of the bridge?’
Ingvar sighed and squinted even harder. ‘I can see something,’ he said doubtfully. ‘Might be a sentry. But it’s just a shape . . . Wait! He’s moving! Yes, it’s a sentry.’
He stepped back from the window and spread his hands in a defeated gesture.
‘See? It’s hopeless. Even with your prompting me, I couldn’t tell that was a sentry until he moved.’
‘But you did see him?’ Hal asked.
‘I did. But I didn’t know what he was.’
Hal rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘When I asked if you saw him, you were squinting. Why do you do that?’
Ingvar thought about it and shrugged. ‘I don’t really know. I guess when I narrow my eyelids like that, things become a little clearer. But I can’t walk around squinting all the time.’
Hal’s mind was racing, vague possibilities forming in his brain. He felt the
old familiar rush of excitement as an idea hovered, not fully formed yet just out of reach.
‘I suppose not,’ Hal said, distractedly. He thought for several seconds, then spoke again. ‘Ingvar, give me a day or two before you decide, all right?’
‘I’ve already decided, Hal. But I’ll give you a day or two before I tell the others.’
Hal patted the boy’s massive hand. ‘That’s fine,’ he said. ‘I can’t ask for more than that.’
‘Are you hoping to change my mind? It won’t happen.’
‘We’ll see,’ Hal said.
Ingvar snorted softly. ‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘That’s the problem, after all.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Hal remained in his room, speaking to nobody, having his meals brought to him. The crew wondered what he was up to and several asked Stig, assuming that he’d know.
The young warrior simply shrugged. ‘I have no idea what he’s doing,’ he told them. ‘He gets like this when he’s planning something.’
There was one exception to this isolation. Stig, Thorn and Hal had a further meeting with the King and the two Rangers. As Crowley and Gilan had predicted, Duncan reluctantly agreed to Gilan’s plan of action.
‘I suppose you know best how to handle a situation like this,’ he told the tall young Ranger. ‘But if you need any extra force, ask Selethen to provide it.’
‘I will, my lord,’ Gilan replied, smiling. ‘But I’m sure that between us, the Heron’s crew and I can handle things. We did pretty well in Socorro, after all. Isn’t that right, Hal?’ He smiled at the young skirl sitting beside him.
Hal seemed to start awake. His mind was miles away. ‘Eh? Yes. Fine, I’m sure.’
Thorn frowned, wondering what was distracting his friend.
‘So, when do you plan to get under way?’ Duncan addressed the question to Hal. Once again, the skirl needed a moment to gather his thoughts.
‘What? Oh, sorry. I’ve got something on my mind. Let’s see, we’ll need to provision the ship. It’s a long voyage, after all. That’ll take a day or so.’
Brotherband: Scorpion Mountain Page 5