John Flanagan - The sorcerer of the North

"You're badly outnumbered," he said. The nominal force of men-at-arms was twenty-five. But at short notice, Norris would be lucky to raise twenty-along with three or four of his knights at best. As for the apprentices, Will shuddered at the thought of opposing a force of determined Skandian axmen with the sloppy group he had been watching.

Norris hesitated. He lived a privileged life, as did all noblemen. But the privilege was earned and paid for at times like these. Now, when he was needed, he was unready, unable to protect the people who depended on him.

"There's no point in leading your men to their deaths," Will said quietly, so that only the Battlemaster heard him. Norris's hand clenched and unclenched on the hilt of the sword at his side.

"We must do something…" he said uncertainly.

Will interrupted him calmly. "And we shall," he told the older man. "Get the villagers inside the walls, with as much as they can carry. Drive the animals out into the fields. Scatter them so the Skandians have to hunt them down if they want them. Get your men armed and ready. And ask Master Rollo if he could rustle up something quick in the way of a banquet."

Norris wasn't sure if he was hearing correctly. "A banquet?" he asked, totally confused.

Will nodded. "A banquet. Nothing too special. I'm sure he can put something together for us. In the meantime, I'll go and have a word with these Skandians."

The Battlemaster's eyes widened as he looked at the calm young face before him.

"Have a word with them?" he repeated, a little louder than he had intended. "How do you think you can stop them from attacking us by talking to them?"

Will shrugged. "I thought I'd ask them not to," he said. "And then, I'll invite them to dinner."

Bitteroot Creek ran into the ocean on the eastern coast of the island. It was a sheltered spot, with plenty of overhanging trees growing right down to the water's edge to provide concealment-even for a craft as large as a wolfship. The water was deep right up to the bank and it made an ideal landing place for raiders. Will was cantering Tug down the winding path through the forest toward the creek when he heard the sound of galloping hooves behind him.

He turned in his saddle and checked the horse with a touch of his heel as he recognized Sir Norris galloping after him on his battlehorse. The Battlemaster was fully armed and armored now and the steel-shod hooves of his massive gray left a cloud of dust hanging behind them. The dog, who had been loping silently to one side of the track, keeping pace with Tug, dropped on her stomach as the Ranger horse came to a halt, and watched the approaching horse and rider with her head cocked curiously to one side.

Norris reined in beside Will. The battlehorse was at least four bands taller than Tug and horse and rider towered above them. Will inclined his head in greeting.

"Sir Norris," he said. "What brings you here?"

Norris hesitated. Will had a good idea what he was about to say. After a few seconds' hesitation, Norris answered him.

"I can't let you do this on your own, Ranger," he said, the note of bitter self-reproach evident in his voice. "It's my fault that we're unprepared. I've let things go soft and I know it. Now I can't leave it to you to pull my chestnuts out of the fire for me. I'll stand with you."

Will nodded thoughtfully. It had taken courage to say that, and just as much courage to make the decision to accompany him to face the Skandians. He felt a new surge of respect for the Battlemaster. Perhaps if this turned out all right, it might prove to be a blessing he thought. The arrival of a raiding wolfship had certainly rammed home the lesson that Seacliff Fief was underprepared. And it did so far better than any criticism that Will might have voiced.

"I appreciate your offer," he told the knight. "But it might be better if I did this alone."

He saw the color rising in the other man's face and he quickly held up a hand to calm his anger. "It's not that I doubt your courage or your ability," he added. "Quite the opposite, in fact. But I think I have a better chance of settling this on my own."

"You surely can't plan to fight them alone?" Norris asked.

Will shook his head, a little smile touching his lips. "I don't plan to fight them at all," he said. "But your presence, in full armor and mounted on that huge horse of yours, mightn't give me a choice. Think about it," he went on before Norris could interrupt. "At the first sight of you, obviously ready for battle, the Skandians are likely to attack without further thought."

Norris chewed his bottom lip. What Will was saying made sense. Then the young Ranger continued.

"On the other hand, if they see me alone, they might be willing to talk. We Rangers tend to have an unsettling effect on people. They 're never quite sure what we might be up to," he added, the smile widening. Norris had to admit that was true. Yet he was reluctant to leave the young man to face odds of thirty to one, armed only with a bow. Will saw the hesitation and continued, his voice crisper now as he realized that time was running short.

"Besides, if things go wrong, I can always outrun them on Tug here-and pick a few of them off as I go. Please, Sir Norris, it's best my way." He glanced down the track, looking for the first sign of the Skandians, knowing they would be coming this way as there was no other path up from the beach. Abruptly, Norris made his decision. On his light, agile horse, the Ranger could take to the shelter of the forest if need be, or simply outrun the Skandians back to the castle. The sea wolves rarely used bows or other missiles.

"Very well," he said, wheeling his mount. Will nodded his gratitude as the knight set spurs to his horse and began to canter clumsily back the way he had come.

As the hoofbeats faded, Will took stock of the ground around him. At this point, the path ran relatively straight for fifty meters in either direction, the trees were set back and the ground was level, leaving an open space. This would do as well as any other spot to meet the Skandians, he thought. He could keep them at a distance if he needed to and had room to maneuver.

He backed the horse up a dozen paces or so, then stopped in the middle of the path. The dog, belly low to the grass, loped back beside him and dropped flat. Will glanced up at the sun. It was a little behind him, so it would be in the Skandians' eyes. That was all to the good, he thought. He shrugged the deep cowl of the cloak up over his head and settled the longbow comfortably across the saddle bow. His position was ready without being overtly threatening.

Tug's ears twitched and a fraction of a second later the dog let out a low warning growl. Will could see movement in the shadows under the trees at the bend in the path.

"All right," he told his two animals. Settle down. He eased his seat in the saddle and slouched comfortably, waiting for the Skandians.

Gundar Hardstriker, skipper of the Wolfcloud, stepped out into the afternoon sunlight from the shade under the trees. At his back, twenty-seven Skandian warriors marched in double file. His eyes a little dazzled after the dim light of the forest, Gundar stopped in surprise at the sight of a solitary figure on the road ahead of them.

Not a knight or a warrior of any kind, he saw. It was a slightly built figure on a small shaggy horse. There was a longbow held almost casually across his thighs, but no sign of other weapons. No ax, no sword, no mace or club. His men straggled to a halt behind him, fanning out to either side of the path as they moved to see what was causing the delay.

"A Ranger," said Ulf Oakbender, who pulled the bow oar on board Wolfcloud, and Gundar realized he was right. The sun's dazzle, almost directly behind the waiting figure, had stopped him from making out the mottled cloak that was the sign of a Ranger. Now, as his eyes adjusted, he could see the strange, irregular patterns that seemed to shimmer and move with a life of their own.