The Outcasts (40 page)

Read The Outcasts Online

Authors: John Flanagan

Tags: #Fantasy, #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Action & Adventure, #General

“Who’s that?” the real Tursgud shouted, from off to the left.
“Who’s that?” repeated Stefan, still in Tursgud’s voice. “Be careful, everybody. There’s a bear loose!”
“There is no bear!” Tursgud screamed.
In response, Stefan let out another shattering roar, then added, in Tursgud’s voice, “What do you think that was? An angry squirrel?”
“Who
is
that?” Tursgud demanded in a fury.
And that was when Stefan had a moment of brilliant inspiration.
“That’s you, isn’t it, Stefan?” he bellowed. “You wait till I catch up with you, you lop-eared runt!”
Hal applauded silently. Stefan’s ploy was sheer genius. Nobody would expect the real Stefan to mention his own name, and remind all those listening that he was an expert mimic. Now the Sharks were totally confused, not sure which Tursgud to obey. Stefan kept the pressure on.
“They’re breaking through on the right!” he yelled. “Pedra! Knut! Ennit! Get over there now!”
“Stay where you are!”
“Shut up, Stefan!”
“Shut up, Stefan, or I’ll kill you!”
“I’ll kill
you,
you mean!”
Hal patted Ingvar on the shoulder. “I’m off to cause more confusion. Stay here. I’ll come back for you when it’s over.”
He slipped through the trees toward the spot where the real Tursgud’s voice was coming from. Stooping, he searched around and found several good-size rocks. By now, it was becoming difficult to keep track of who was saying what, as Tursgud and the fake Tursgud continued to abuse each other. But he had a good bearing on the real Tursgud’s voice. As he drew closer, he threw a rock in the general direction.
A figure rose from the bushes a few meters to the left of his throw. He recognized Tursgud’s silhouette, pelted another two rocks at him and ran. Tursgud saw him, yelped with pain as the second rock hit his arm, then yelled.
“It’s Hal! Karl, come over here and help me catch him!”
“What do you mean, you fake? Ignore Stefan, Karl! I’ve already got Hal!” yelled Stefan.
Then Hal’s hair stood on end as he heard a voice that sounded exactly like his cry out in pain.
“Owwww! Cut it out, Tursgud! You’re breaking my arm!”
Absolute confusion reigned. Then out on the left, Stig made a darting run toward the line and three of the defenders took off after him, yelling directions to one another. Stefan began yelling contradictory directions and Stig went to ground, crawling rapidly back into the bushes. Then the twins began to add their voices to the general confusion.
“Hey! I’m over here!” Wulf yelled.
“No! I’m over here!” replied Ulf, from fifty meters away. But their voices were identical.
Judging that the time was right, Hal put his fingers in his mouth and emitted a piercing whistle. Instantly, the fake Tursgud yelled out.
“Who’s that whistling? Shut up or I’ll bash you!”
But the whistle was a prearranged signal for the Herons to fade back, move to their right and group together.
They huddled behind the bushes—Stig, Ulf and Wulf, Edvin and Hal. Ingvar and Stefan, of course, remained where they were. Hal was silently counting, using Edvin’s method.
“… ninety-nine jolly goblins, one hundred jolly goblins.”
Hidden in his bushes, Stefan was doing the same. As he reached one hundred jolly goblins, he rolled out into the open, came to his feet and began running to his left—away from the side where his teammates were assembled.
“They’re on our right!” he yelled. “Everybody this way! Sharks! Follow me!”
Dark shapes rose and headed after him. But only one of them knew he was a fake. The real Tursgud had been waiting for a sight of the person who was mimicking him. In a fury, he took off after the shadowy running figure. He rapidly overtook Stefan and hurled himself on him, driving him to the ground. Stefan curled in a ball, elbows and knees up to protect himself from the wild punches Tursgud was throwing. Then Tursgud, as Hal had done earlier in the evening, realized he’d been tricked. He looked up in horror to his left. There was a group of shadowy figures sprinting toward the hut. Leaving Stefan groaning and bruised, he leapt to his feet and screamed at his team.
“Get back! Get back! They’re almost at the hut! Stop them!”
Three of his team heard him and followed at a run to intercept the Herons. The two groups came together a few meters from the hut and dissolved into a rolling, struggling, confused maul of bodies. From time to time, one of the Herons would break free and lunge for the doorway. But each time, he would be dragged down before he could make it inside. Gradually, the Shark team gained the upper hand as more of their numbers arrived to help. Finally, they had all the attackers pinned and restrained. Hal, breathing heavily, looked around his companions, counting heads. His heart leapt as he saw Jesper being held by two of the Sharks. The thief caught his eye and winked slowly. He’d been hiding in the hut the entire time. Once the brawl outside the door began, he had slipped out again and joined the melee without anyone noticing.
Sigurd’s horn sounded—unnecessarily, Hal thought—and the contest was over. The four judges strode up to the knot of boys outside the hut. Sigurd gestured for the Herons to be released.
“Let ’em go,” he said. “It’s all over. Looks as if the Sharks have won. None of the Heron team made it inside.”
The Sharks let out a triumphant roar, grinning at one another. The win would put their score out of reach. They began to celebrate the fact that they had won the overall competition. Then Jesper stepped forward and spoke to Sigurd.
“Actually, sir, I did,” he said.
Silence fell as they all looked at him. Tursgud’s face worked in a fury of concentration as he tried to remember if he’d seen Jesper when the brawl had erupted outside the hut. But it had all been so confused—rolling, punching, struggling Sharks and Herons mixed together—and he simply couldn’t remember. The other Sharks were equally unsure, the smiles on their faces slowly dying as they realized their celebrations might have been premature.
Sigurd gestured to Viggo. “One way to find out. Get the box.”
No one spoke as the assistant instructor brought the box out and gave it to Sigurd to unlock. As the lid went back, Sigurd tipped the box up. A small white plaque fell out. There was a crude heron shape inscribed on it. The Herons leapt and screamed in victory. Hal and Jesper grinned at each other and Stig slapped a big hand on his best friend’s shoulder.
“I told you you’d come up with a clever idea,” he said.
“Shut up,” Hal cautioned him. But he couldn’t stop smiling.
Tursgud, his face like a thundercloud, cursed silently as Sigurd declared the contest another draw.
“So it’s all down to the navigation test. Day after tomorrow. Get back to your quarters now and get some rest.”
The Herons, in a tight-knit bunch, walked back to their hut, collecting Ingvar and a limping Stefan on the way.
“You all right?” Hal asked the mimic.
Stefan smiled wearily. “He hit me a few good ones,” he said. “But it was worthwhile. As for you,” he said to Jesper, “I’ll bet you’re glad to be out from under that bed.”
Jesper grinned. “It was a bit moldy under there,” he admitted. “But as you say, it was worthwhile.”
PART 4
THE OUTCASTS
chapter
thirty-seven
T
he two brotherbands stood on the beach, watching curiously as the black-hulled Magyaran ship rowed slowly out of the harbor. As she cleared the entrance,
Wolfwind
cast off her moorings and swung out after her with Svengal at the tiller, shadowing the foreign ship as she moved farther away from land.
The four brotherband instructors were equally curious. Sigurd turned to a sergeant of the harbor watch.
“What’s going on?” he asked, jerking a thumb toward the two ships.
The sergeant grinned.
“Erak’s given them their marching orders. Sailing orders, rather. He doesn’t want them hanging around Hallasholm any longer.”
Hal, seeing Thorn nearby, had walked over to ask the same question and received similar information.
“I’ve been watching them all week,” Thorn said. “They claimed they had a leaking seam but I never saw them doing anything to fix it.”
“So why were they hanging around?” Stig asked.
Thorn shrugged. “Knowing the Magyarans, they were probably looking for something to steal.” He grinned at the two boys, changing the subject. “That was good work last night, by the way. I’m guessing that your friend Jesper was in the hut all along?”
Hal nodded, grinning in his turn. “Yes. But don’t go talking about it.”
Thorn raised his wooden hook to his lips. “My lips are sealed.”
Stig gestured at the hook. “That’s quite a clamp you’ve got on them.”
Thorn brandished his new right “hand” proudly. “Yes. I’m rather pleased with this. I’d say it’s coming in handy, but that might be too much of a pun.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t say that,” Hal said, straight-faced. But Thorn merely gestured to Sigurd a few paces away.
“You’d better get moving. Looks like Sigurd’s handing out the navigation notes,” he said. “Good luck.” He shooed them away, using his hook. Then he looked at it and grinned happily.
“I love being able to do that,” he said. Then he became serious. “Good luck, Hal. You too, Stig.”
The two friends turned and walked down the beach to where Sigurd was surrounded by the members of the two brotherbands. He glanced up as they arrived.
“How kind of you to join us,” he said. “I trust you
are
planning to take part in today’s exercise?”
Hal and Stig exchanged a quick glance. For a second, Hal was tempted to reply in kind, but it wasn’t beyond Sigurd to hand out demerit points for sarcasm and, if he did, it could put the Sharks’ total score out of their reach.
“Yes, Sigurd,” they mumbled together. He harrumphed at them and held out his hand to Jarst, who stood close by.
“Let me have the sailing instructions,” he said. Jarst handed him two rolled scrolls of parchment, sealed with red wax. Sigurd checked the first, then held it out to Tursgud.
“Here’s yours,” he said. Then, as Tursgud went to break the wax seal, he hurriedly added, “Not yet! You wait until you’re a kilometer offshore before you read them. Your team instructors will ride along with you to make sure you don’t cheat. Since there’s just the two teams now, there’ll be no points for the loser. It’s winner take all.”
He turned to Hal and handed him the second scroll. Hal regarded it curiously, wondering what he would find inside. He had no idea what form the sailing instructions would take. He had only been told that they would be “cryptic.” He wondered what that meant, exactly.
He stood uncertainly, waiting for Sigurd to say something further. Or to sound his horn. That was usually the way the contests began, he thought. He glanced at Tursgud and saw that he was hesitating as well, eyes intent on the chief instructor. Sigurd seemed to become aware of their scrutiny. He raised his eyebrows at them.
“Was there something else?” he asked and they both shook their heads. “Well then,” he continued, “perhaps you might like to get under way. This is a race as well as a navigation test, you know.”
For a second longer, they stood there. Then Hal was galvanized into action.
“Come on!” he yelled. He shoved the rolled parchment inside his jacket and pelted down the beach to where the
Heron
was drawn up at the water’s edge. The rest of his team followed him at a run, then he heard Tursgud’s startled yell and, glancing back, saw that the Sharks were running as well.
“Edvin! Get the beach anchor!” he yelled. Edvin was the lightest of the group and the best spared from the heavy work of launching the ship. The rest of them took up their positions and began to shove the
Heron
back into the water.
This was where Ingvar was worth his weight in gold, Hal thought. As the rest of them strained to get the ship moving, the big boy spat on his hands, then put his shoulder against the ship’s prow, dug his feet into the sand and heaved.

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