John Flanagan - Oakleaf bearers

Borsa shook his head sadly at the evidence of Slagor's treachery. "I'd been hoping that this would be an empty quest," he said bitterly. "The thought of any Skandian turning traitor is a bitter one to face."

He moved away from Halt and Erak and the two men exchanged glances. Erak shrugged. His was a more cynical temperament than the hilfmann's, and he had better knowledge of Slagor's character.

"Time to make absolutely sure," he said quietly, and heaved on the steering oar to bring Wolfwind 's prow heading straight toward the beach. As arranged, the other two ships hove to, the rowers maintaining a slow, relaxed stroke to hold them in position against wind and tide, some two hundred meters off the beach. They were still within bowshot there, but the huge, circular Skandian shields that were ranged along the bulwarks gave the sailors protection against any Temujai attack.

Those on Wolfwind weren't so fortunate. They were heading straight inshore, every stroke of the oars making them more vulnerable to a sudden volley of Temujai arrows.

"Keep your heads down," Erak growled at his rowers. It was an unnecessary warning. They were hunched down as far as they could be, trying to prevent any part of their persons from showing above the oak bulwarks. Halt noticed that the jarl's right hand strayed from the steering oar from time to time, and brushed almost unconsciously against the haft of the massive battle-ax that leaned close by.

Activity on the beach was growing now, and a party of half a dozen Temujai had moved to the water's edge. Behind them, orders were being shouted and squads were forming as troop leaders prepared their men to embark on the three wolfships.

The deep water continued in quite close to the beach. Of course, the wolfships were designed to beach in water as shallow as one meter, but the Temujai weren't aware of the fact and Halt and Erak had agreed that it made better sense to keep the enemy at a distance. Twenty meters from the water's edge, Erak gave a brief command and the oars on one side of the ship backed while the others went ahead, swinging the narrow craft through ninety degrees, virtually in her own length.

Erak nodded to his second in command, who hurried to the tiller. Then the jarl stepped to the shoreward side of the ship and raised his voice in his familiar storm-quelling bellow.

"Ahoy the beach!" he called, and Halt, standing close by, hastily moved a few paces farther away.

The Tem'uj standing in the center of the small group on the beach cupped his hands and called back.

"I am Or'kam, commander of this force," he called. "Where is Slagor?"

Behind him, Halt heard a quick intake of breath and turned to see Borsa shaking his head sadly, his eyes downcast. Several of the other Skandians also exchanged glances at this incontrovertible confirmation that Slagor had been involved in the plan.

"Keep still!" Halt warned them, and the men hurriedly masked their reactions. Erak was answering now, with the story that he, Borsa and Halt had agreed upon.

"Oberjarl Ragnak was growing suspicious of our movements. It was too dangerous for Slagor to come on this expedition. He will join us at Fallkork Island."

There was a hurried consultation between the Temujai leaders.

"They don't like it," Erak muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"They don't have to like it. They just have to believe it," Halt told him in the same undertone. After several minutes' discussion, Or'kam stepped away from the group and called again.

"We expected Slagor. How can we be sure we can trust you? Did he give any message? Any password?"

On the ship, the men exchanged worried glances. This was the one eventuality they had feared. If Slagor had arranged a password with the Temujai, then their plan was spoiled. Of course, their main aim had already been achieved. They had proved Slagor's complicity in the plot. But now that they were here, the chance of taking 150 men out of the enemy's battle line, without any loss to their own forces, was tempting in the extreme.

"Bluff it out," Halt said quickly. "He already said he was expecting Slagor, so they didn't need a password." Erak nodded. It made sense.

"Look, horseman," Erak bellowed again. "I don't need a password, do I? I'm here to pick you up. And I'm risking my neck to do it! Now if you choose to come aboard, then do so. If not, I'm going raiding and leaving you and Ragnak to your little war. Now you choose!"

Once again there was an urgent consultation on the beach. They could see Or'kam's reluctance in his movements, but equally, they could see him weighing his options, and after a long, searching glance at the wolfship, he obviously decided he had nothing to fear from the skeleton crews of rowers on the three ships.

"Very well!" he called. "Bring your ships in and we'll board."

But now Erak shook his head.

"We'll bring you out on the skiffs," he called. "We can't beach here."

Or'kam made an angry gesture. Obviously he didn't like it when things didn't go precisely according to his wishes.

"What are you talking about?" he yelled. "Slagor beached his ship right here. I saw him do it!"

Erak moved to the bulwark and stood up on it, completely exposed to any possible fire from the beach.

"Careful," Halt muttered, trying not to let his lips move.

"And tell me, horseman," Erak said, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "did Slagor then load fifty men aboard his ship and take her off the beach?"

There was a pause as the Temujai leader thought through the reasoning in what Erak had said. Erak saw the hesitation and pressed on.

"If I beach now and load your men aboard, we'll never get her off again. Particularly with the tide falling the way it is."

That seemed to clinch it. Or'kam reluctantly signaled his agreement.

"Very well!" he called. "How many can you take at a time?"

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."

"P OSITION TWO:SHOOT!" CALLED W ILL, 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 meters 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. 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.