The Ghostfaces (8 page)

Still, she could sense eyes upon her. Something, or someone, was watching her. Keeping her head still, she scanned the surrounding trees with her eyes, searching for a sight of the hidden observer—human or otherwise.

Nothing.

Realizing she was making the common mistake of searching at her own eye level, she raised her angle of sight and swung her vision from side to side once more. Again, nothing. But still she felt the presence.

Then she dropped her gaze to ground level and scanned. And saw something. In a damp patch of earth that was clear of the ubiquitous leaf mold, there was a long indentation in the ground beside a tree. She moved closer and went down on one knee to study it more closely. It was about twenty-five centimeters long by ten wide. Rounded at both ends and flat along its lengths.

It was the imprint left by a human foot in a soft, heelless shoe.

chapter
twelve

L
ydia emerged from the tree line and stopped to observe the progress that had been made on the construction of the palisade. More than two-thirds of its length was now filled in by a thick tangle of brushwood and small branches. The crew were working diligently to complete the rest of the barrier. Ingvar and Stig were hacking down bushes and small saplings, Stefan and Jesper were dragging them to the unfinished end of the fence and Hal, Thorn and the twins were threading them through the two horizontal rails, intertwining them to form an almost solid obstacle.

Edvin was the only crew member not engaged in fence building. He was crouched among his cook pots by the fire. A small iron cauldron hung over the glowing pile of coals, suspended from his iron tripod. Steam escaped from a gap he had left between the pot and the lid.

Lydia stooped under an unfinished section of the fence and approached him, tossing the heavy carcass of the bird toward him.

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. “That's a respectable-size bird,” he said.

She nodded. “I just hope it's edible. I had to use a warhead dart on it, I'm afraid. Some of the meat will be spoiled.”

Edvin was examining the bird, running his hands over it and feeling it. He discounted her apology. “No harm done. There's plenty of meat there.”

“Just so long as it's not tough as goats' knees,” she said. He felt the flesh of the bird again and pursed his lips.

“It feels pretty fat and meaty,” he said. “I wouldn't be surprised if it's good eating. I take it this is the now-famous
oggle-oggle-oggle
bird?” he added, with a smile.

“That's it,” she replied. Then, remembering, she took the rabbit that she'd tied to her belt and tossed that by the fire as well. “There seem to be rabbits in the area too.”

“Excellent.” Edvin looked pleased. He could picture himself preparing a few varied and interesting meals for the brotherband. “I'll slip away this afternoon and see what I can find in the way of wild greens,” he said.

She held up a cautioning hand. “Don't go too far. And don't go alone. I saw the tracks of a bear out there—a very big one.”

Edvin raised his eyebrows. “I suppose it couldn't all be good news. If we have rabbits and oggle birds, I guess we have to have bears as well.”

“I'll warn the others,” she said. She nodded farewell to Edvin, who was already beginning to pluck the feathers from the large
bird, preparatory to gutting and cleaning it, and walked back to where the crew were building the barricade. Thorn and Hal were nearest her, bending and twisting lengths of sapling between the two rails. The old sea wolf was remarkably dexterous with his hook, she noted. He looked up as she approached.

“Any luck?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Remains to be seen. I got one of those big birds and snared a rabbit. Plus I just missed a deer. So there appears to be plenty of game around. Unfortunately, not all of it is friendly.”

Hal, who had been bending a sapling length behind the top rail of the fence, stopped and looked at her as he heard those words.

She continued. “There's a bear somewhere around—a big one. Bigger than any I've seen. I'd say he'd be three meters tall, or maybe more.”

Thorn whistled softly. “That is big. Did you catch sight of him?”

She shook her head. “No. I saw his marks on a tree, where he'd been clawing the bark. Thing is, he'd only been doing it with his right paw, which indicates that his left paw is wounded or crippled.”

“Which would make him even more dangerous,” Hal said as she paused to let that information sink in.

She glanced at him and nodded. “Yes. A wounded bear is not something to trifle with,” she said.

Thorn sensed she had more to add. “Is that the extent of the bad news?” he prompted.

She shook her head. She stepped a little closer to the two of them and lowered her voice so that Ulf and Wulf, working several
meters away and bickering good-naturedly, couldn't hear her.

“I saw human tracks as well,” she said.

Thorn stood upright and leaned against the fence. He frowned thoughtfully. “How many?”

She shrugged. “I only saw one footprint. But it was definitely human. Whoever it was, he was wearing a soft shoe, without a heel—some kind of animal-hide slipper, I'd say.”

Hal and Thorn exchanged a quick glance. It had been too good to be true, Hal thought. A place like this, with freshwater, plenty of game and firewood, would almost certainly be inhabited.

“I also had the sense that someone was watching me,” Lydia added. Both her companions took the comment seriously. Lydia wasn't the type to let her imagination, or her nerves, get the better of her. They trusted her instincts.

“You didn't actually see anyone?” Hal asked.

“No. But I could
feel
eyes on me. You know how you can, sometimes?” She looked earnestly at Thorn. “I wasn't imagining things,” she said a little defensively, and he shook his head, dismissing the idea.

“I didn't think you were,” he said. “You've been a hunter long enough to develop that sixth sense that tells you when you're not alone. Besides, there was the footprint.”

There was a silence among them as they considered the import of what she had told them. Thorn abruptly broke it, coming to a decision and straightening up from where he leaned against the fence.

“All right,” he said briskly, “we'd better let the others know. From now on, nobody goes into the forest alone.” He saw Lydia
start to raise her hand in protest and altered the command. “Aside from you, Lydia. You know how to stay concealed, and you're smart enough to avoid that bear if he shows up. In the meanwhile, we'd better fashion a few bear spears.”

“We've got half a dozen spears in the ship,” Hal pointed out, but Thorn shook his head.

“They're fine for fighting against men. And we may as well have them handy in the camp,” he added as an afterthought. “But a bear as big as Lydia said this one is will need something longer and stronger. We can make them from saplings, sharpen the points and harden them in a fire, then hammer crosspieces through them behind the points.”

Lydia was nodding agreement but Hal had a question. “Crosspieces?” he asked. “What sort of crosspieces?”

“Iron spikes driven through the spear,” Thorn told him. “If the bear charges and you can catch him on the point, the crosspiece will stop him sliding down the shaft and getting you.”

“Will a bear do that?” Hal asked and both his friends nodded.

“Oh yes,” Thorn told him. “I saw it happen once on a hunting trip in the mountains behind Hallasholm. The bear was so intent on getting to the man who had put the spear into it that it just kept going forward. The spear went right through and out the other side.”

“Which must have killed it,” Hal protested.

Thorn nodded. “It did. But not before the bear had taken the hunter's head off with one swipe of its paw. That bear seemed to die with a smile on its face.”

Hal frowned, picturing the scene as Thorn had described it.
He knew the old sea wolf was prone to exaggeration when it came to tales about hunting and fighting. But he sensed that this time he was serious.

“I'll dig out some spikes from the ship's supplies,” he said. He kept a supply of nails, rivets, iron ingots and other odds and ends on board the ship.

“In the meanwhile, we'd better let the others know what's going on,” Thorn said. He put his fingers in his mouth and emitted a piercing whistle. Along the beach, the Herons all stopped what they were doing and turned to face him. He beckoned them in with his good arm, and as they straggled toward him, he called to Edvin.

“Edvin! How's lunch coming?”

The cook looked up at him and cupped his hands around his mouth to reply. He didn't have Thorn's wind- and wave-quelling bellow.

“Ready when you are, Thorn.”

“Ten minutes,” Thorn replied, then, as the crew assembled, he waved them closer. There was a water skin hanging on the fence and several of them helped themselves to it. The freedom to drink as long and as often as they wanted to was a pleasant novelty after their weeks of reduced water rations. Once they'd drunk, they dropped to the sand, sitting cross-legged in a half circle around Thorn, Hal and Lydia, waiting to hear what their battle leader had to tell them. When he had their attention, Thorn began.

“First of all,” he said, “we're not alone here. Lydia saw human footprints in the forest.”

“One footprint,” Lydia corrected him, but he waved the comment aside.

“I think we can assume that we're not dealing with a one-legged hermit,” he said. “If there was one footprint, we'll take it that there'll be others. And we can also assume that whoever left it was trying to conceal his presence—otherwise you would have seen more.”

Lydia cocked her head thoughtfully. “I suppose that could be so,” she admitted.

Thorn pressed on. “Let's take it that it is. As you know, it's always better—”

“To assume the worst,” chorused Ulf, Wulf, Jesper and Stefan. It was one of Thorn's favorite mantras.

He allowed himself a small grin. “I'm glad that's sunk in. You people may finally be learning something. Now another thing, there's a bear wandering around in the woods as well.”

That news caused a flurry of comment from those listening. What kind? How big? Where did you see him? They all wanted to know more details and Thorn held up his wooden hook to quiet them. He glanced at the slim girl standing beside him.

“Lydia?” he said, making a gesture for her to take over.

“I don't know what kind,” she said. “I didn't see him. I saw his claw marks in the bark of a tree.” She paused and several of the crew nodded. They were familiar with those sort of marks. “But . . .” She paused, making sure they were all listening. “From the height of the marks, I'd say he's at least three meters tall.”

Jesper whistled incredulously. “Three meters?” he said. “I've never seen a bear as big as that.”

“Neither have I,” Lydia told him. “And I'm not in any hurry to see him now. He was clawing the bark with his right paw only,
which indicates to me that his left paw is injured. And an injured bear—”

“Is a dangerous bear,” finished the former chorus.

Like Thorn, she allowed herself a smile. “Exactly. If you see him, don't do anything to provoke him.”

“Like what?” Wulf asked, and before she could answer, Ulf did.

“Like letting him see your ugly face,” he said. “That'd be enough to send a bear into an attacking frenzy.”

“My ugly face?” Wulf said indignantly. “What about your ugly face? You're twice as ugly as I am!”

“So, you admit you're ugly?” Ulf shot back. The entire exchange was pointless. Neither boy was ugly, and more importantly, they were identical.

Wulf drew in breath to reply, but Thorn took a half pace forward.

“I think we'll leave it at that,” he said. There was a dangerous gleam in his eye, and Wulf decided that it might be wise to agree. He made an uncertain gesture in the air and sank back onto his haunches. Ulf grinned, delighted to have the last word. Thorn looked away from the twins and addressed the group as a whole.

“We'll need to make some bear spears,” he said. “Good, strong poles about three meters long. Make one each, sharpen the points and harden them in the fire. Hal will drive spikes through them.”

They all nodded. They could see the wisdom of the idea.

“And we'll need to build some beacon fires along the beach, about ten meters out from the palisade. Use light brushwood and lots of tinder. We want them to burn easily and brightly if we need them.”

“What are they for, Thorn?” Jesper asked. He was a little hesitant, as he seemed to have a habit of rubbing Thorn the wrong way with his comments. But Thorn thought it was a fair question and he never begrudged explaining his tactics to any of the crew.

“Just in case someone comes calling,” he said. “If we're sitting inside the fence, looking into our own fire, we'll be night-blind. This way, if someone's on the beach, we can light the beacon fires and illuminate them.” He glanced at Hal and Lydia. “You might make up some fire arrows and darts for your crossbow and atlatl,” he said. They both nodded. “The fires will also be handy to make the bear keep its distance if it comes prowling around,” he added, making eye contact with Jesper.

The former thief nodded, his question answered.

“Now, let's have lunch, then get back to it,” Thorn said. “We've got spears to make, and a barricade to finish. And I suggest we do everything we can to make it bear-proof.”