Free Icebound Land by John Flanagan

were ready to leave.”
    “My choice,” Slagor repeated, “and a wise one, as it’s turned out.” His voice became a sneer. “I notice you didn’t exactly have a great deal of success in your invasion, did you, Jarl Erak?”
    Erak stepped closer. His eyes blazed a warning at the other man.
    “Watch your tone, you sneak thief. I left good friends behind me there.”
    “And more than friends, as I’ve heard,” replied Slagor, emboldened now. “You’ll get scant thanks from Ragnak for leaving his son behind as well.”
    Erak stepped back, his jaw dropping. “Gronel was taken in the battle?”
    Slagor shook his head now, smiling at the other man’s loss of poise. “Not taken. Killed, I heard, at the Thorntree battle. Some of the ships managed to make it back to Skandia before the storms set in.”
    Will glanced up quickly at that. Wolfwind, Erak’s ship, had been the last to leave the Araluen coast. The crew were still waiting for Erak’s return when the survivors of Horth’s ill-fated expedition had straggled back to the ships, bringing news of the failure and then sailing away. Will had later heard Wolfwind ’s crew talking about the Thorntree battle. Two Rangers, one short and grizzled, the other young and tall, had led the King’s forces that decimated the Skandian army as they had marched to outflank Duncan’s main force. Somehow, Will knew in his heart that they had been Halt and Gilan.
    Erak shook his head sadly. “Gronel was a good man,” he said. “We’ll feel his loss sorely.”
    “His father is feeling it. He’s sworn a Vallasvow against Duncan and his family.”
    “That can’t be right,” Erak said, frowning in disbelief. “A Vallasvow is only to be taken against treachery or murder.”
    Slagor shrugged. “He’s the Oberjarl. He can do as he likes, I’d say. Now for pity’s sake, do you have any food on this godforsaken island? Our stores are ruined by seawater.”
    Erak, still distracted by the news he’d just heard, became aware of Will and Evanlyn’s presence. He jerked his head toward the huts.
    “Get a fire going,” he told them. “These men need hot food.”
    He was angry that Slagor had to remind him of his duty in this matter. He may not have liked the other captain, but his men deserved help and attention after all they had been through. He shoved Will roughly toward the hut. The boy staggered, then began to run, Evanlyn close behind him.
    Will had a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea what a Vallasvow might be, but he knew one thing. Keeping Evanlyn’s identity a secret had suddenly become a matter of life and death.

10
    T HE ROAD NEARED THE OCEAN, AND THE WOODS ON EITHER SIDE gradually moved closer and closer, as fertile, tilled fields gave way to denser forest country. It was the sort of country where peaceful travelers might well become fearful of bandits, as the thick trees close to the roadside gave ample cover for an ambush. Halt, however, had no such fears. In fact, his mood was so dark that he might well have welcomed an attempt by bandits to rob him of his few belongings.
    His heavy saxe knife and throwing knife were easy to hand under his cloak, and he carried his longbow strung, resting across the pommel of his saddle, in Ranger fashion. One corner of his cloak, specially made for the purpose, folded back from his shoulder, leaving the feathered ends of the two dozen arrows in his quiver within quick, unimpeded reach. It was said that each Ranger carried the lives of twenty-four men in his quiver, such was their uncanny, deadly accuracy with the longbow.
    Aside from these obvious weapons, and his own finely honed instinct for danger, Halt had two other, not so obvious, advantages over any potential attacker. The two Ranger horses, Tug and Abelard, were trained to give quiet warning of the presence of any strangers that they sensed. And now, as Halt rode, Abelard’s ears twitched several times and he and Tug both tossed their heads and