John Flanagan - Oakleaf bearers

"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 toward 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 favorite-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 eye. 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."

I T 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 toward 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 kilometer 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 realized, 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 around 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 beyond 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 hoofbeats. 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 defenses. 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 center of the army, where the commander sat his horse, a sequence of colored 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 saber 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 flatland 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 meters behind their line. Will's force of archers were on an earthwork berm on the right, some meters behind the main defensive line. At the moment, earth-covered wicker ramparts kept the archers hidden as they crouched behind them.