Brotherband 3: The Hunters (2 page)

When you sailed out of sight of land, he thought, there was always the worry that you might never sail back into sight of it.

He shook his head, realising how groundless his fears had been. Four days, after all, was a relatively short ocean trip. He knew of Skandian seafarers who had sailed for weeks with no sight of land. He had done so himself, on ships commanded by other people. But this was his first time in command.

Thorn came aft from his favoured spot by the keel box. His rolling gait easily matched the movement of the ship and he smiled at his young friend. He’d spent many years at sea but he knew all too well what must have been going through Hal’s mind.

‘Well done,’ he said quietly.

Hal gave him a quick smile. ‘Thanks,’ he said, trying to look nonchalant. Then he couldn’t keep up the pretence any longer. ‘Must admit, I had a few sleepless moments.’

Thorn raised an eyebrow. ‘Only a few?’

‘Two, actually. One lasted for the first two days. The other for the next two. Apart from that, I was fine.’

The fact that the young skirl could admit to his concerns was a sign of his growing maturity and confidence in his own ability. He was growing up fast, Thorn thought. But then, command of a ship had that effect on a person. They either grew into the responsibility or it crushed them.

In the bow, Stig had climbed onto the bulwark alongside Stefan, but on the other side of the bowpost. He shaded his eyes, then turned and called back down the length of the ship.

‘I can see three hills,’ he shouted. ‘Two big, one small. The small one is in the middle. They’re a little off to port.’

Thorn saw the look of pleasure that came over Hal’s face. He nodded his admiration.

‘Sounds like Dwarf Hill Cape,’ he said. ‘Wasn’t that where you were aiming?’ It was a near-perfect landfall – an impressive achievement for a neophyte skirl. Thorn was an expert sailor, but the intricacies of navigation had always proved too much for him.

Hal rearranged his features, trying to hide his pleasure.

‘Should have been dead ahead,’ he muttered, but then the smile broke through again. ‘But that’s pretty good, isn’t it?’

Thorn clapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’s very good. For an old coast crawler like me, it’s beyond comprehension.’

Hal nodded forward. ‘Looks as if our prisoner is finally taking an interest in things.’

Rikard, the Magyaran pirate Thorn had broken out of the Limmat jail, was standing up to peer towards the land. For the past few days he had remained huddled by the mast, restrained by a heavy chain that secured him to the thick spar.

‘He knows he’s near home,’ Thorn said. ‘The entrance to the Schuyt River is only a few kilometres up the coast, and that leads to the Magyaran capital.’

‘Are we planning on setting him free?’ Hal asked.

Thorn shook his head. ‘Not until we know he’s telling us the truth about Zavac’s destination. If he is, we should be able to find someone who’s seen the
Raven
when we head down the Dan River. He’s just going to have to wait till then.’

After they had left the port of Limmat behind, Rikard had made good on his promise to tell them where Zavac was heading. Zavac was the pirate captain who had earlier stolen the Andomal, Skandia’s most prized artefact. He had stolen it while Hal and his crew had been charged with its protection, so they had a personal interest in regaining it from him.

With that in mind, they had pursued Zavac down the length of the Stormwhite, always one step behind the elusive Magyaran ship, a large black craft named the
Raven
. They caught up with Zavac and the
Raven
at Limmat, a harbour town on the east coast. Zavac, in company with two other ships, had led an attack on the town and occupied it. The crew of the
Heron
had been instrumental in defeating the invaders and driving them out. Many of the pirates had been either killed or captured in the ensuing battle, but Zavac and his crew had escaped in the closing stages, ramming and nearly sinking the Skandian ship
Wolfwind
in the process.

According to Rikard, Zavac and his crew were heading for the Dan River, a mighty waterway that ran all the way from the north of the continental mass, on the Stormwhite’s coast, to the south, close by the Constant Sea. At the southern end of the Dan was a fortified citadel called Raguza, a pirate haven governed by a council of pirates and thieves. Raiders from the Stormwhite and the Constant Sea sought refuge there, knowing they would be protected from pursuit and revenge. Ships harbouring in Raguza paid a tribute to the city’s governing body. Usually, this was a tenth share of any booty they had on board. It was expensive, but it was worth it to enjoy the security and freedom from pursuit that Raguza offered.

Zavac, of course, was carrying a large supply of emeralds plundered from the secret mine at Limmat. Some of those emeralds should have gone to the men who had assisted in the invasion and occupation of the town. But they had been defeated and killed or imprisoned, and he had absconded with their share. With such a rich haul, he had no further need to raid during the current season and had obviously decided to relax and regroup in the citadel.

Now, as the
Heron
moved closer to the coastline, Rikard seemed to sense their attention on him. He turned to look at them, then beckoned to Thorn, who walked forward to speak to him.

‘What is it?’ he asked, knowing the answer before Rikard gave it.

‘Are you going to set me free?’ he said, pointing at the approaching coastline.

Thorn shook his head. ‘I think we need the distinct pleasure of your company a little longer.’

‘I’ve kept my part of the bargain! You promised you’d set me free,’ Rikard protested.

‘No. I promised I’d set you free once we’re sure you’ve kept your part of the bargain. I also promised that if you haven’t I’ll throw you overboard.’

‘Well, is there any need to keep me chained up like this?’ Rikard angrily rattled the chain that secured him to the mast. ‘After all, there’s nowhere I can escape to.’

Thorn smiled at him. ‘That’s in case you decide to do me out of the pleasure of throwing you overboard. Wouldn’t want you taking matters into your own hands.’

Rikard scowled at him and slumped down to the deck once more. He could see there was no point in arguing any further. In the few days he had been onboard, he had learned that Thorn was not a man to change his mind easily.

‘I know you can’t wait to get back to Magyara and join another pirate crew,’ Thorn said. ‘But you’ll just have to put up with us for a while yet.’ He turned and walked back to the steering position, where Lydia and Stig had joined Hal.

‘Are you planning on putting ashore?’ Lydia asked, as Thorn came within earshot. Hal pursed his lips, then shook his head.

‘We’ll run along the coast for another day. That’ll bring us to the mouth of the Dan. We can go ashore there. We need to find out if anyone’s sighted the
Raven.
’

He had a constant, nagging worry that Zavac may have headed off in another direction entirely and they had spent the past four days on a wild goose chase.

‘The boys could use a good night’s sleep,’ she said. ‘So could I.’

The
Heron
wasn’t the most comfortable place for sleeping. The crew could bed down on the planks between the rowing benches. But the constant need to adjust to the ship’s pitching and rolling, and the frequent showers of spray that broke over her, made it difficult to get deep, uninterrupted rest.

‘Another day or so won’t hurt them,’ he said.

She smiled ruefully. ‘Or me?’

‘Or you. Sorry. We’ll all have to wait. The sooner we find out we’re on the right track, the happier I’ll be.’

Lydia nodded. Hal’s point was a valid one and she realised that he had probably had the least sleep of anyone on board. He and Stig shared the responsibility of steering the ship and Hal tended to take on the lion’s share of that.

‘Not worth checking in any of the coastal towns here?’ Stig asked, but Hal shook his head.

‘If she’s been sighted here, that doesn’t tell us she’s gone down the river. She could have continued heading west along the coast.’

Stig sighed good-naturedly. ‘Oh well, I guess that means another night of sleeping on those hard planks. Why did you design this ship with so many ribs? There always seems to be one digging into
my
ribs.’

Hal grinned at his friend. ‘I’ll bear it in mind next time I build a ship,’ he said. Then, as so often happens when someone raises the matter of sleep, he found he couldn’t suppress a huge yawn.

Thorn eyed him thoughtfully. ‘You look as if you could use a good night’s rest yourself.’

Hal shrugged, blinking his eyes rapidly to clear them. Now that Thorn mentioned it, he was aware how dry and scratchy they were.

‘I’ll be fine,’ he said, but Thorn wasn’t to be put off.

‘I’ve been thinking, you should have someone else trained to take over the tiller,’ he said.

Stig made a big show of clearing his throat. ‘Um . . . have we noticed that I am here? Or am I just a piece of chopped halibut?’ he asked. ‘I seem to recall taking over the helm several times in the past few days.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ Thorn said patiently. ‘I mean you should have a third person ready to take over.’

‘Couldn’t you do that?’ Lydia asked.

Thorn looked at her. ‘I could. But if we get into a sea battle, Stig and I are the logical choices to lead a boarding party. We’re the two best fighting men on the ship. And Hal has to be free to operate the Mangler.’

The Mangler was the name they had given to the giant crossbow mounted in the bow of the ship.

‘Did you have anyone specific in mind?’ Hal asked. Thorn’s reasoning made sense, and a third helmsman would lessen the strain on him and Stig in what looked to be a long and hard journey ahead.

‘I was thinking Edvin,’ Thorn said. ‘Stefan and Jesper are working well together raising and lowering the sails, and Ulf and Wulf have a natural affinity for sail trimming. Edvin is a bit of a loose end at the moment.’

Hal smiled. ‘It might be more tactful to say he’s an unrealised potential asset,’ he said. ‘But yes, that’s a good idea. Plus he’s smart and he listens. He’ll get the hang of it quickly enough. Let’s go talk to him.’ He nodded to Stig, who took over the helm. Then he and Thorn made their way forward, to where Edvin was sitting beside the supine form of Ingvar, who had been wounded in the attack on the watch towers at Limmat.

Edvin was concentrating on something, his head bent over as he worked two long thin sticks back and forth, setting up a rapid click-clicking sound. A ball of thick yarn lay on the deck between his feet.

‘Edvin?’ Hal said. ‘What are you doing?’

Edvin looked up at them and smiled. ‘I’m knitting,’ he said. ‘I’m knitting myself a warm, woolly watch cap.’

Hal and Thorn exchanged a glance.

‘I wonder if we might have made a mistake?’ Thorn said.

‘K
nitting, you say?’ Jesper frowned at the thought of it, but Stefan nodded in confirmation.

‘Knitting. He had a big ball of yarn and two needles and he was . . . knitting.’

They looked aft to where Hal was introducing Edvin to the finer points of steering the ship. Stig and Thorn stood to one side, watching. While Edvin had begun his instruction, Lydia had taken his place tending Ingvar. The
Heron
was on a long reach, with the wind from the starboard side, and there was little for the sail crew to do. Jesper and Stefan, whose task was to raise and lower the yardarms, had moved aft to sit and talk with the twins, Ulf and Wulf, at the sail trimming sheets.

‘I’m not sure that I want someone steering the ship if he spends his spare time knitting,’ Stefan said. It was a ridiculous non sequitur but the others seemed to agree with the sentiment. They all looked at Edvin once more.

‘How do you knit, anyway?’ Jesper wondered.

Ulf shrugged dismissively. ‘It’s quite easy, actually.’

They all looked at him. Predictably, it was Wulf who responded.

‘Is that so? Perhaps you’d tell us how it’s done then.’

Ulf hesitated. He’d seen his mother, aunt and grandmother doing it and it seemed easy enough. They could knit without looking at what they were doing – and they could carry on a conversation about the weather or the price of salt cod while they did it. So it stood to reason that it was easy. Particularly if his aunt could do it.

He realised that the other three were all looking at him, waiting for him to answer. He waved a vague hand in the air.

‘Well . . . you get some needles . . .’

‘Knitting needles?’ Stefan asked and Ulf frowned at him, not appreciating the interruption.

‘Of course knitting needles!’ he said with some heat. ‘Did you think you’d use darning needles for knitting?’

‘Why do they call it darning?’ Jesper put in.

Ulf gave him an annoyed look. It seemed that everyone was bent on interrupting him this morning.

‘’Cause that’s what you say when you stick the needle in your finger,’ Wulf suggested and the three of them laughed. Ulf maintained his dignity, and directed a pained look at his brother.

‘That’s quite good, Ulf,’ Jesper said to Wulf. Ulf rolled his eyes to heaven. This was getting to be too much, he thought.