Erak resisted the temptation to heave a sigh of relief.
‘Three skiffs, eight men each,’ he called. ‘Twenty-four at a time.’
Or’kam nodded. ‘All right, Skandian, send in the skiffs.’ He turned to his lieutenants and set them to organising the embarkation. On board Wolfwind, Erak was already signalling the other wolfships to stand in closer and send their skiffs ashore with his own.
‘Position two … shoot!’ called Will, and the hundred archers’ arms rose to the same angle, drew and released, more or less simultaneously. The slithering hiss of the release was magnified a hundred times, and Will and Horace watched in satisfaction as a dark cloud of arrows arced across the intervening space to the target that had suddenly popped up.
Evanlyn was sitting on an old broken cart a few metres behind the line of archers, watching the scene with interest.
They could hear the distinctive soft thudding of arrows striking into the turf around the target, and the harder, clearer smack of those arrows that actually hit it.
‘Shields!’ bellowed Horace and, beside each archer, a foot soldier stepped forward, with a rectangular wooden shield held on his left arm, positioned to cover both himself and the archer as he reloaded. It had been an idea the warrior apprentice had come up with while he’d been watching an earlier practice shoot. Will had readily adopted the improvement. With only one hundred archers, he couldn’t afford to lose any to the return fire the Temujai were sure to mount once they saw his men in action.
Will glanced quickly around to make sure his men were ready for the next shot. Then he turned back to the practice field, searching for the next target to appear.
There! As the team of men behind him hauled on a set of ropes, another flat board swung up out of the grass. But he had nearly missed the movement, waiting to see if the archers were ready. He felt a slight twinge of panic. Things were moving too fast.
‘Clear!’ he called, wishing his voice wouldn’t tend to break when he did this, and the shield bearers stepped clear.
‘Half right! Position three … shoot!’
Again they heard the slithering hiss. Another cloud of arrows cast its fleeting shadow across the field and riddled the area around the target. Already, another target was rising out of the grass, much closer in this time.
‘Shields!’ Horace called again and once more the archers were hidden from return fire. As he ordered his men to do this, Horace performed the same action, concealing Will behind one of the large shields.
‘Come on, come on,’ Will muttered, shifting from one foot to the other as he watched the men select new arrows and nock them to the string. The archers sensed his urgency and hurried their reloading. The extra haste made for clumsiness. Three of them dropped the arrows they were about to nock; others fumbled like beginners. Frustrated, Will realised he’d have to go with the men who were ready. He swung his gaze back to the target. But the men on the ropes were hauling it in, so that it slid towards them on its sled-like runners, matching the speed of an enemy advance. The range had closed too quickly for him to make an instant assessment. In the time that he’d been watching his men, he’d lost his concentration and his sense of the battlefield.
He stepped down angrily from his command position, a low platform built at the end of the line of archers.
‘Stand down!’ he called. ‘Everyone take a break.’
He realised he’d been sweating freely with the tension and wiped a corner of his cloak across his forehead. Horace set the large shield down and joined him.
‘What’s the trouble?’ he asked.
Will shook his head, defeated. ‘It’s hopeless,’ he said. ‘I can’t keep track of the targets and the men at the same time. I lose my perspective. You’ll have to watch the men and tell me when they’re ready.’
Horace frowned.
‘I could,’ he agreed. ‘But on the day, I think I’m going to be a little busy shielding you from any return shots. I really need to keep my eye on the enemy too. Unless you want to be turned into a pincushion.’
‘Well, someone’s going to have to do it!’ Will said angrily. ‘We haven’t even begun to practise against the Kaijin and the whole thing’s falling apart already!’
Halt had told them about the Kaijin. They were specialist marksmen and each group of sixty Temujai riders would have one with them. The Kaijin were assigned to pick off the leaders in any enemy group. It would be Will’s task to counteract them and he’d devised a drill for it, with additional, smaller targets set in the field, ready to rise into view unexpectedly. But if Will was dividing his attention between his own archers and the enemy, his chances of nullifying the enemy marksmen would be low indeed.
On the other hand, his chances of being shot by one of them were considerably higher.
‘I could do it,’ said Evanlyn and both boys turned towards her. She saw the doubt in their expressions. ‘I could do it. I could keep an eye on the archers and call when they’re ready.’
‘But that’ll put you in the battle line!’ Horace objected instantly. ‘It’ll be dangerous!’
Evanlyn shook her head. She noticed Will hadn’t objected so far. She could see he was at least considering her idea. She hurried on before he could veto the suggestion.
‘The archers aren’t actually in the front line. You’ll be behind it, and protected by a trench and an earth mound. You could build me a kind of a dugout at the end, beneath your command position. I’d be safe from arrows there. After all, I don’t need to see the enemy, just our men.’
‘But what if the Temujai break through our line?’ Horace said. ‘You’ll be right in the middle of it then!’
Evanlyn shrugged. ‘If the Temujai break through, it won’t matter where I am. We’ll all be dead. Besides, if everyone else is taking a risk, why shouldn’t I?’
Horace was wise enough not to reply because you’re a girl. And he had to admit that she had a point. But he wasn’t convinced. He turned to Will.
‘What do you think, Will?’ he said. He expected the apprentice Ranger to agree with him and he was a little surprised when Will didn’t answer immediately.
‘I think,’ Will said slowly, ‘she may be right. Let’s try it.’
‘Ready,’ Evanlyn said calmly. She was crouched below the platform where Will and Horace stood.
‘Clear!’ That was Horace. The shield bearers dropped to one knee beside the archers.
‘Left left! Position one … shoot!’
The volley was ragged and Will knew that was his fault. He’d called the order to shoot a fraction too quickly and some of the men hadn’t reached full draw. He mentally kicked himself. He heard Horace calling for the shields again and saw the arrow strikes on the target – as well as those that missed and fell short.
But now another danger reared its head. As the next large target swung up and began moving towards them, another, smaller one swung out from the target they had just engaged. This was a man-sized figure and it was Will’s responsibility. He drew and loosed and saw his arrow slam into the target, just as Evanlyn called ‘ready’ once more. He turned his attention quickly to the main target as Horace ordered the shield bearers down.
‘Left! Position three …’ He waited, then added a correction. ‘Down a half …’
He forced himself to wait the full term, then called: ‘Shoot!’
This time, the volley flew truly, with the majority of arrows slamming into the target or close around it. If it had been a charging group of horsemen, the volley would have taken a severe toll.
‘Shields!’ bellowed Horace, and the pattern began to repeat itself. But now Will waved a weary hand.
‘Stand down,’ he said, and Horace repeated the order in a louder voice. The archers and shield bearers, who had been working at this drill for the past two hours with only a few short breaks, dropped gratefully to the grass to rest. Horace grinned at Will.
‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘I make it twenty out of twenty-five of those targets peppered pretty s
olidly. And you hit every one of the Kaijin.’
The smaller targets attached to each large board represented the Kaijin. Freed from the need to check on both his own men and the enemy, Will had coped easily with them.
‘True,’ Will said, in response to Horace’s comment. ‘But they weren’t shooting back.’
Secretly, he was pleased with his performance. He had shot well, in spite of the distractions involved in estimating range and trajectory for the larger group.
He grinned at Horace and Evanlyn. It was good to feel some of the old camaraderie back.
‘Nice work, everyone,’ he said, then, raising his voice: ‘Let’s take a break for half an hour.’
There was a murmur of satisfaction from the archers and they moved to the side of the practice area, where barrels of drinking water were available. Behind Will, a familiar voice spoke.
‘Take a break for the rest of the day. You’ve done enough for the moment.’
The three young Araluans turned at the sound of Halt’s voice. Instantly, Will felt reinvigorated, bursting with curiosity about events at Sand Creek Bay.
‘Halt!’ he cried eagerly. ‘What happened? Were the Temujai there? Did you manage to fool them?’
But Halt held up a hand to stop the flow of questions he knew he was about to face. He was troubled by what he had just seen as he approached.
‘Why have you got Evanlyn involved in this, Will?’ he asked. He saw the hesitation in the young man’s eyes, then saw his jaw set in a determined line.
‘Because I need her, Halt. I need someone to keep track of the men, to let me know when they’re ready. Without that, the system won’t work.’
‘Couldn’t someone else do that?’
‘I can’t think of anyone else I can trust. I want someone who won’t panic. Someone who’ll keep her head.’
Halt scratched his beard thoughtfully. ‘How do you know Evanlyn won’t panic?’
The answer came immediately.
‘Because she didn’t in Celtica – at the bridge.’
Halt looked at the three young faces before him. All set. All determined. He knew Will was right. He would need someone he could trust.
‘All right then,’ he said, then added, as the three beamed at him, ‘But don’t look so happy about it. I’m the one who’ll have to explain to her father if she’s shot.’
‘Now what about the Temujai?’ Will asked. ‘Did you find them at Sand Creek Bay?’
At the mention of Slagor’s plot, the smile on Evanlyn’s face faded, replaced by a look of anxiety.
‘They were there,’ Halt said quickly, dispelling her worst fears. ‘And they made it clear that they were expecting to see Slagor.’ He nodded at the girl as she let go a pent-up breath in relief. ‘It puts a different complexion on things as far as you’re concerned, Princess,’ he said.
‘Ragnak still has his vow,’ she said dully.
Halt nodded. ‘True. But at least he’s agreed not to act on it until after we’ve driven off the Temujai.’ Evanlyn made an uncertain little gesture with her hands.
‘It’s just postponing things,’ she said.
‘Problems postponed have a habit of solving themselves, more often than not,’ Halt told her, putting an arm around her slim shoulders. Evanlyn smiled at him. But it wasn’t much of a smile.
‘If you say so,’ she replied. ‘But Halt, don’t address me as “Princess” if you would. No point in reminding Ragnak about me at every opportunity.’
The Ranger nodded. ‘I stand corrected,’ he said. Then he added, in a lower tone that only Evanlyn heard, ‘By the way, there’s no need to mention it to him, but don’t be too surprised if Erak’s wolfship is standing by to get you out of here the minute we’ve seen these damned Temujai off.’
She looked up at him then, hope in her eyes. He met her gaze and nodded meaningfully. She looked from him to the burly Skandian Jarl, who was now approaching over the field, then she leaned forward to kiss Halt lightly on the cheek.
‘Thanks, Halt,’ she said softly. ‘At least now I know there is an alternative.’
The Ranger shrugged and grinned at her. ‘That’s what I’m here for,’ he said, pleased to see the light of hope back in her eyes. She smiled at him again and slipped away, heading back to her quarters. All at once, overwhelmed by her sense of relief that Halt had contrived a possible way out of her predicament, she felt the need to be alone for a while.
Some of the Skandians who had been working the targets were calling to Erak now as he came closer, wanting to know how events had turned out at Sand Creek Bay. As the Jarl confirmed Slagor’s treachery, there were angry mutterings and dark looks cast towards the Lodge, where Slagor was being held under guard.
‘What about the Temujai, Erak?’ Will asked. ‘How did you convince them to go ashore on Fallkork Island?’
Erak’s laughter rang around the practice field. ‘We would have had to fight to stop them!’ he told the assembled audience. ‘They were scrambling over each other to get back on solid land.’
The Skandians in the crowd standing around him echoed his laughter as he continued: ‘I managed to find a spot where we had the wind from astern, a steep head sea on our starboard quarter and the tide race through the Narrows at the same time. A few hours of that and our fierce horse soldiers were like little lambs – sick little lambs.’
‘They weren’t the only ones,’ Halt replied with some feeling. ‘I’ve been through some rough seas in my time, but I’ve never felt anything like the plunging and leaping you had us doing.’
Once again Erak bellowed with laughter. ‘Your master here went nearly the same shade of green as his cloak,’ he told Will. Halt raised one eyebrow.
‘At least I finally found a use for that damned helmet,’ he said and the smile disappeared from Erak’s face.
‘Yes. I’m not sure what I’m going to tell Gordoff about that,’ he said. ‘He made me promise I’d look after that helmet. It’s his favourite – a real family heirloom.’
‘Well, it certainly has a lived-in feel to it now,’ Halt told him and Will noticed there was a hint of malicious pleasure in his eyes. The Ranger nodded at the group of archers who were standing by.
‘You seem to have this group working pretty well,’ he said.
Will felt absurdly pleased at his mentor’s praise.
‘Oh,’ he said, trying to sound casual. ‘We’re not doing too badly.’
‘Better than that from what I saw,’ Halt told him. Then he repeated his earlier suggestion. ‘I meant what I said, Will. Give them the rest of the day off. Yourself too. You’ve earned a break. And unless I miss my guess, we’re going to need all the rest we can get in the next few days.’
It was a muted sound – surf on a beach a long way away, or maybe the rolling of distant thunder, Will thought. Except no thunder had ever sounded like this. This sound never seemed to start and never seemed to end. It just continued, over and over, repeating itself constantly.
And, gradually, growing louder.
It was the sound of thousands of horses cantering slowly towards them.
Will flexed the string on his bow a couple of times, testing the feel and the tension. His eyes were fixed on the point where they all knew the Temujai army would appear – a kilometre away, where the narrow coastal strip between the hills and the sea jutted out in a promontory, temporarily blocking their view of the approaching army. His mouth was dry, he realised, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow.
He reached down for the water skin that was hanging by his quiver and missed the first sight of the Temujai horsemen as they swept round the bend.
The men around him let out an involuntary cry. The horsemen rode stirrup to stirrup, in one long extended line, each horse cantering easily, matching the pace of the horse beside it.
‘There must be thousands of them!’ one of the archers said, and Will could hear the fear in his voice. It was echoed in another dozen places along the line. From the ranks of Skandian warriors bey
ond them, there was not a sound.
Now, above the dull rumble of the hooves, they could hear the jingle of harness as well, a lighter counterpoint to the rumbling hoof beats. The horsemen came on, moving closer to the waiting ranks of silent Skandians. Then, at the single blaring note of a bugle, they reined in and came to a halt.
The silence, after the rumbling beat of their approach, was almost palpable.
Then a massive roar rose from the throats of the Skandian warriors who stood by their defences. A roar of defiance and challenge, accompanied by the ear-shattering clash of axes and broadswords on shields. Gradually, the sound died away. The Temujai sat their horses silently, staring at their enemies.
‘Keep still!’ Will called to his archers. Now that he saw the Temujai front rank, his force seemed ridiculously small. There must have been six or seven hundred warriors riding side by side in that first rank. And behind them were another five or six times that number. At the centre of the army, where the commander sat his horse, a sequence of coloured signal flags waved. Others answered from positions in the line of horsemen. There was another horn blast – a different note this time – and the front rank began to walk their horses forward. The jingling of harness was apparent once more – then a massive metallic slithering sound filled the air and the weak sun gleamed on hundreds of sabre blades as they were drawn.
‘They’re going to fight close in,’ Horace said softly beside him.
Will nodded. ‘Remember what Halt told us? Their first move will be a feint – an attack and then a false withdrawal to draw the Skandians out from behind their breastworks. They won’t commit to their real attack until they have the Skandians strung out in pursuit.’
The eighteen hundred Skandians were drawn up in three ranks on a narrow strip of flat land between the sea and the heavily timbered hills. They waited behind carefully constructed earthen breastworks. The sloping ramparts facing the Temujai were thick with sharpened stakes of various lengths, designed to impale the enemy’s horses.
Halt had located their main defensive position at the spot where the strip was narrowest, with their flanks protected by the steep, wooded mountains on the left and the sea on the right. Hallasholm itself was barely two hundred metres behind their line. Will’s force of archers were on an earthwork berm on the right, some metres behind the main defensive line. At the moment, earthcovered wicker ramparts kept the archers hidden as they crouched behind them.