Return of the Temujai
John Flanagan
BROTHERBAND CHRONICLES
Book 1: The Outcasts
Book 2: The Invaders
Book 3: The Hunters
Book 4: Slaves of Socorro
Book 5: Scorpion Mountain
Book 6: The Ghostfaces
Book 7: The Caldera
Book 8: Return of the Temujai
THE RANGER’S APPRENTICE EPIC
Book 1: The Ruins of Gorlan
Book 2: The Burning Bridge
Book 3: The Icebound Land
Book 4: The Battle for Skandia
Book 5: The Sorcerer of the North
Book 6: The Siege of Macindaw
Book 7: Erak’s Ransom
Book 8: The Kings of Clonmel
Book 9: Halt’s Peril
Book 10: The Emperor of Nihon-Ja
Book 11: The Lost Stories
THE ROYAL RANGER SERIES
Book 1: The Royal Ranger: A New Beginning
(previously published as Ranger’s Apprentice Book 12)
Book 2: The Royal Ranger: The Red Fox Clan
Book 3: The Royal Ranger: Duel at Araluen
RANGER’S APPRENTICE: THE EARLY YEARS
Book 1: The Tournament at Gorlan
Book 2: The Battle of Hackham Heath
PHILOMEL BOOKS
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York
First published in the United States of America by Philomel Books, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2019.
First published in Australia by Penguin Random House Australia in 2019.
Copyright © 2019 by John Flanagan.
Heron illustration © 2011 by David Elliot.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
Ebook ISBN 9781524741457
U.S. edition edited by Kelsey Murphy.
U.S. edition designed by Jennifer Chung.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Also by John Flanagan
Title Page
Copyright
A Few Sailing Terms Explained
Part One: Fort RagnakChapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Part Two: Ice RiverChapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Epilogue
About the Author
A Few Sailing Terms Explained
Because this book involves sailing ships, I thought it might be useful to explain a few of the nautical terms found in the story.
Be reassured that I haven’t gone overboard (to keep up the nautical allusion) with technical details in the book, and even if you’re not familiar with sailing, I’m sure you’ll understand what’s going on. But a certain amount of sailing terminology is necessary for the story to feel realistic.
So, here we go, in no particular order:
Bow: The front of the ship, also called the prow.
Stern: The rear of the ship.
Port and starboard: The left and the right side of the ship, as you’re facing the bow. In fact, I’m probably incorrect in using the term port. The early term for port was larboard, but I thought we’d all get confused if I used that.
Starboard is a corruption of “steering board” (or steering side). The steering oar was always placed on the right-hand side of the ship at the stern.
Consequently, when a ship came into port, it would moor with the left side against the jetty, to avoid damage to the steering oar. One theory says the word derived from the ship’s being in port—left side to the jetty. I suspect, however, that it might have come from the fact that the entry port, by which crew and passengers boarded, was also always on the left side.
How do you remember which side is which? Easy. Port and left both have four letters.
Forward: Toward the bow.
Aft: Toward the stern.
Fore-and-aft rig: A sail plan in which the sail is in line with the hull of the ship.
Hull: The body of the ship.
Keel: The spine of the ship.
Stem: The upright timber piece at the bow, joining the two sides together.
Forefoot: The lowest point of the bow, where the keel and the stem of the ship meet.
Steering oar: The blade used to control the ship’s direction, mounted on the starboard side of the ship, at the stern.
Tiller: The handle for the steering oar.
Sea anchor: A method of slowing a ship’s downwind drift, often by use of a canvas drogue—a long, conical tube of canvas closed at one end and held open at the other—or two spars lashed together in a cross. The sea anchor is streamed from the bow and the resultant drag slows the ship’s movement through the water.
Yardarm, or yard: A spar (wooden pole) that is hoisted up the mast, carrying the sail.
Masthead: The top of the mast.
Bulwark: The part of the ship’s side above the deck.
Scuppers: Drain holes in the bulwarks set at deck level to allow water that comes on board to drain away.
Belaying pins: Wooden pins used to fasten rope.
Oarlock, or rowlock: Pegs set on either side of an oar to keep it in place while rowing.
Thwart: A seat.
Telltale: A pennant that indicates the wind’s dire
ction.
Tacking: To tack is to change direction from one side to the other, passing through the eye of the wind.
If the wind is from the north and you want to sail northeast, you would perform one tack so that you are heading northeast, and you would continue to sail on that tack for as long as you need.
However, if the wind is from the north and you want to sail due north, you would have to do so in a series of short tacks, going back and forth on a zigzag course, crossing through the wind each time, and slowly making ground to the north. This is a process known as beating into the wind.
Wearing: When a ship tacks, it turns into the wind to change direction. When it wears, it turns away from the wind, traveling in a much larger arc, with the wind in the sail, driving the ship around throughout the maneuver. Wearing was a safer way of changing direction for wolfships than beating into the wind.
Reach, or reaching: When the wind is from the side of the ship, the ship is sailing on a reach, or reaching.
Running: When the wind is from the stern, the ship is running. (So would you if the wind was strong enough at your back.)
Reef: To gather in part of the sail and bundle it against the yardarm to reduce the sail area. This is done in high winds to protect the sail and the mast.
Trim: To adjust the sail to the most efficient angle.
Halyard: A rope used to haul the yard up the mast. (Haul-yard, get it?)
Stay: A heavy rope that supports the mast. The backstay and the forestay are heavy ropes running from the top of the mast to the stern and the bow (it’s pretty obvious which is which).
Sheets and shrouds: Many people think these are sails, which is a logical assumption. But in fact, they’re ropes. Shrouds are thick ropes that run from the top of the mast to the side of the ship, supporting the mast. Sheets are the ropes used to control, or trim, the sail—to haul it in and out according to the wind strength and direction. In an emergency, the order might be given to “let fly the sheets!” The sheets would be released, letting the sail loose and bringing the ship to a halt. (If you were to let fly the sheets, you’d probably fall out of bed.)
Hawser: Heavy rope used to moor a ship.
Way: The motion of the ship. If a ship is under way, it is moving according to its course. If it is making leeway, the ship is moving downwind so it loses ground or goes off course.
Lee: The downwind side of a ship, opposite to the direction of the wind.
Lee shore: A shoreline downwind of the ship, with the wind blowing the ship toward the shore—a dangerous situation for a sailing ship.
Back water: To row a reverse stroke.
* * *
• • • • •
So, now that you know all you need to know about sailing terms, welcome aboard the world of the Brotherband Chronicles!
John Flanagan
PART ONE
FORT RAGNAK
chapter one
The closer they came to the border fort, the narrower the valley became. The steep, almost sheer walls towered high above them, blotting out the sun although it was only a few hours before noon. The floor of the valley was in shadow, the sun only reaching it for a couple of hours each day, which probably accounted for the snow that still lay thick and deep on the ground, even though spring was only a few weeks away.
In spite of the snow, the small party was making better time now that they had reached the top of the steep climb that led to the pass, and they were moving on level ground again.
There were two carts, each with a single pair of wheels and pulled by a small, sturdy horse. They were stacked neatly with sawn lumber, and as they were past the steep uphill climb, most of the Heron brotherband rode on them, finding space among the stacks of planks and beams that filled the cart trays.
Hal and Stig rode two saddle horses, leading the way for the carts. It was a newly acquired skill for the two Heron leaders. Stig had decided that they should learn to ride.
“After all,” he’d told his skirl, “we always find ourselves in places where they expect us to ride. We might as well know how to do it. It’ll save us a lot of walking.”
Hal had agreed and Stig had searched around and procured two horses, rescuing them from a life where they would be destined to pull carts, and instead turning them into saddle mounts. They were stolid little creatures, quiet and unimaginative, nothing like a fierce, thundering battlehorse or a speedy, slender-limbed Arridan from the deserts to the south. But they carried the two riders uncomplainingly—even Barney, the one tasked with bearing Stig’s large frame. If need arose, both horses could be coaxed into a slow canter or, in extreme situations, a clumsy gallop.
Once Stig had found them, Hal hired one of the Araluen archers, who was familiar with horses, to teach them the rudimentary points of riding. After suffering the inevitable tumbles, bruises and minor injuries, both of them emerged as reasonably capable riders. They were, after all, fit and agile young men, with a good sense of balance and the rhythm necessary to match their movements to the horses’ gait.
With one exception.
“I don’t like trotting,” Hal stated. “I always seem to be going down when the horse is coming up. It’s an unnatural way to travel and it’s painful.”
His Araluen teacher, who could sit to a trot instinctively and so had no idea how to teach someone else to do so, took the easy way out.
“Why bother?” he had told the young skirl. “If you’re in a hurry, canter or gallop. If you’re not, just walk.”
That seemed reasonable to Hal, so he simply ignored the concept of trotting from then on. Occasionally, when he saw Stig managing to sit smoothly as Barney trotted beneath him, he felt a pang of jealousy. He was tempted to ask Stig how he managed it but refused to admit his own deficiency.
“I choose not to trot,” he would say, his jaw set stubbornly, whenever the subject came up.
Thorn, on the other hand, chose not to ride at all, even though Stig had offered to find a horse for him.
“I don’t trust horses,” Thorn said, glaring suspiciously at the two stocky little mounts his friends rode. “Even the small ones outweigh me by several hundred kilos. They have big teeth and hooves as hard as clubs. And they’re shifty.”
“Shifty?” said Hal, stroking Jake’s silky soft nose affectionately. “They’re perfectly trustworthy.”
“Maybe to you,” Thorn replied darkly. “But not to me. Those big teeth could take off a few fingers—and I’ve only got one hand.”
And in fact, Barney and Jake seemed to sense his unease around them and his antipathy toward them, and they reacted in kind. If Thorn walked too close behind Barney, the horse would often lash out, trying to kick him. And, several times, Jake had whipped his head around and given Thorn a painful nip on the shoulder. But with the cunning of their kind, the horses didn’t do so every time he came within range, allowing him to be lulled into a false sense of security, whereupon they would kick or bite once more, without warning.
Even now, as the old sea wolf trudged determinedly beside them through the snow, Jake was tending to sidle closer to him, measuring the distance between his teeth and the shabby, patched sheepskin vest that covered Thorn’s shoulder—Jake’s favorite point for biting. Knowing what his horse was planning, Hal twitched the reins against his neck and pressed his right knee into the horse’s side, urging him away from Thorn.
Thorn noticed the movement, and Jake’s indignant toss of his head as his plans were thwarted.
“See?” he said. “I told you those beasts there cannot be trusted.”
Stig, sensing that Thorn might be about to launch into another discourse on the evils of the equine species, hurried to redirect the conversation.
“So, what’s got Erak up in a lather?” he asked Hal. “Is it something serious or is he just getting clucky in his old age?”
Hal grinned. “Try saying that ‘old
age’ thing around him. He’ll likely brain you with that big silver-headed walking stick he carries.” He paused, then answered the question. “No. He’s had word that the Temujai have been nosing around the border.”
“They’re always doing that,” Stig said dismissively.
But Hal shook his head. “They’ve been doing it a lot more than usual,” he said. “That’s why he wants Lydia to scout around across the border while we check out the fort itself.”
With their ship laid up for repairs and maintenance during the winter months, the Herons found themselves with time on their hands. Erak, the Oberjarl of the Skandians, had summoned Hal to his lodge in the center of Hallasholm. The young warrior was one of Erak’s most trusted skirls. Hal led an elite group of fighters in his crew, but Erak knew that Hal was more than just brave in battle. He was smart, which a lot of wolfship captains weren’t. Hal could observe a situation with a keen and intelligent eye, and that was what Erak wanted in this case.
“Take a look at the border fort,” he instructed the younger man. “See if it’s secure against attack. And see if there’s any way you can make it more secure.”
Fort Ragnak defended Serpent Pass, a narrow pass at the junction of the Skandian, Teutlandt and Temujai borders. The pass was the only practical way to travel down from the mountains and access Skandia’s flat coastal strip. Hal moved to the large map on the wall of Erak’s lodge and studied the pass and the fort. The walls of the pass were steep, he knew, and the fort was positioned where they came close together, closing a gap of only twenty meters.
“You have archers here?” he asked.
Erak nodded. “Fifteen of them. I rotate them in and out every three weeks, along with the rest of the garrison—thirty troops. It’s too cold and miserable up there to leave them on site for much longer—although in winter it’s sometimes hard to get men there to relieve them.”
Since the Temujai attempt to invade years previously, Skandia received a detachment of one hundred archers each year from their ally, the Kingdom of Araluen. The archers tended to redress the imbalance between Skandia’s own warriors, who were armed with axes, spears and swords, and the mounted Temujai archers. It meant that the Skandians could fight fire with fire, particularly when they were ensconced in a secure position, like the border fort.
