Brotherband 3: The Hunters Read Online Free Page A

side. Without needing to be told, Stefan dropped over the bow onto dry land, carrying the beach anchor inland and driving it deep into the sand.
    As ever, Hal felt the strange silence that came with the lack of movement from the ship. The constant background chorus of small noises – the slap of ripples along the hull, the muted groaning of the rigging and masts – had ceased and his voice seemed unnaturally loud as he spoke.
    ‘Let’s get a camp set up.’
    The Herons moved to the task quickly. They were well practised now in making camp. They used a large tarpaulin draped over a central ridgepole to create a long A-shaped tent. Edvin and Stefan busied themselves building a smaller shelter for Ingvar.
    When the camp was ready, Stig approached Hal and jerked a thumb towards Rikard.
    ‘Will we leave him on board?’
    Hal considered the question, then shook his head. Rikard was securely chained to the mast and there was little chance he could escape. But Hal was reluctant to leave him unattended on board the ship. He knew Rikard was bitter at not being released and he feared he might damage the Heron in some way.
    ‘Bring him ashore. Chain him to a tree and throw a blanket over him,’ he said. He glanced up. There were a few clouds sliding gently across the blue sky, but no dark masses that might indicate rain. A blanket should be sufficient cover.
    Ulf and Wulf unchained Rikard and led him to a stout pine tree at the edge of the beach, some twenty metres from the main tent. They fastened the chain round the bole of the tree, tested that it was still firmly attached to the hard leather cuffs padlocked around Rikard’s wrists, then handed him a blanket.
    ‘Make yourself comfortable,’ Ulf said. Rikard grunted at them and scowled as they smiled back. Then they turned and headed back to the camp site.
    ‘Let’s get something to eat. I’m starved,’ Ulf said.
    ‘You’re always starved,’ Wulf replied.
    ‘That’s because I’m older than you. I’ve been waiting longer for my dinner.’
    Rikard waited as their voices faded away, then looked down to study his bonds. The leather cuffs were stiff and inflexible. They were padlocked in place and would be impossible to loosen with his bare hands.
    But Rikard had more than his bare hands. He pulled the blanket over himself and reached down inside his knee-high boot. A long, razor-sharp blade was concealed in a specially fashioned sheath, running down the inside of the boot and hidden by a flap of soft leather. On board, under constant scrutiny and with crew members always close by, he’d had no opportunity to access it.
    He smiled to himself. Now, things were different.

H al stooped to enter the small tent where Edvin was caring for Ingvar. The wounded boy was lying on his back, on a soft bed of pine boughs overlaid with a thick blanket. Another blanket covered him but, as Hal watched, the big boy muttered and tried to toss it to one side.
    Edvin was kneeling beside the prone figure, with a basin of cool water and several wet towels. He took hold of Ingvar’s arm and stopped him tossing the blanket aside. He was worried by the fact that he could this do so easily. Ingvar’s strength had become legendary among them, but now . . .
    Sensing Hal’s presence, Edvin looked up. ‘He’s as weak as a kitten,’ he said.
    Hal nodded and knelt on the opposite side of the bed. He reached out and laid his palm on Ingvar’s forehead. The heat coming from the big boy’s skin was frightening.
    ‘He seems to be worse,’ he said sadly. ‘Am I imagining it, or has the fever grown stronger?’
    Edvin shrugged. Then he dipped one of the towels in the water basin and began sponging Ingvar’s forehead, face and neck.
    ‘I’ve no real way of measuring it,’ he said, ‘but I think you’re right. He definitely seems to be reaching a crisis point.’
    Hal looked at the new bandage on Ingvar’s side, above the hip. ‘You’ve re-dressed the wound?’
    Edvin glanced at it and