Free The Ghostfaces by John A. Flanagan Page B

narrow post holes in the sand. Thorn walked up the beach to the tree line, where Ingvar was at work, stripped to the waist, his arm and body muscles rippling. He grunted lightly with each stroke of the ax, and Thorn was mildly impressed to see how deeply each ax stroke bit into the wood.
    Lydia was a few meters away, patroling among the trees, watching inland. Kloof kept pace with her, nose raised, sniffing the air, her nostrils quivering.
    â€œAnything to see?” Thorn asked her quietly.
    She shook her head. “So far, not a thing. Although if there’s anyone within half a kilometer, they’d be hearing Ingvar’s ax strokes.”
    She was right, Thorn thought. The big boy was driving the ax blade deep into the larger saplings that he was felling, and each blow rang loudly, the sound echoing and reechoing around the forest. He grunted.
    â€œKeep your eyes open,” he said. “I’ll send the others up to collect the posts and rails.”
    He strode back through the thick sand, noting that the first three uprights were already in position, Stig having driven them deep into the sand with a large wooden mallet from the ship. Thorn caught Jesper’s eye and beckoned to him.
    Jesper glanced away guiltily, unwilling to meet Thorn’s gaze.
    â€œJesper,” Thorn called softly, “I’d like a word with you.”
    The soft tone and easy words were deceptive. Jesper sauntered across the sand to where Thorn waited, the thumb of his left hand thrust through his broad leather belt.
    â€œYes, Thorn?” the former thief said, trying too hard to be casual. He knew what was coming.
    Thorn smiled at him, then moved closer, so that their noses were ten centimeters apart. The smile faded and the old warrior spoke in a voice that wouldn’t carry to the crew members working on the fence.
    â€œIf you ever—
ever
—break discipline again like you did today, I will kick your backside so hard your eyes will pop out of your head.”
    Jesper hung his head, unable to meet Thorn’s burning gaze. “Yes, Thorn,” he muttered.
    But Thorn wasn’t letting him off so lightly. “Are you clear on that?” he demanded.
    Jesper nodded his head. “Yes, Thorn,” he repeated, still unwilling to look the older man in the eyes.
    â€œWe’re a long way from home, Jesper,” Thorn continued. “We don’t know where we are and we don’t know what or who we might encounter. We
have
to be able to rely on each other. We
have
to maintain our discipline as a group. If we don’t, people could die. If one person lets the others down, it could mean the end for all of us. Is that clear?”
    â€œYes, Thorn.”
    â€œBlast you, Jesper, look at me when you talk to me!”
    Reluctantly, Jesper raised his head to meet Thorn’s gaze. The anger he saw there was nothing short of terrifying.
    â€œI’ll warn you once. If your laziness or lack of discipline is the cause of any of the others being injured or killed, you will answer to me. Is that clear?”
    Jesper nodded. He had no doubt that Thorn meant what he was saying. But a nod wasn’t enough for Thorn.
    â€œSay it. I want to hear you say it. Do you understand?”
    Jesper licked his lips. Suddenly, they were dry again, as they had been for the preceding week. But the reason now wasn’t lack of drinking water. It was fear.
    â€œI understand, Thorn,” he managed at last.
    Thorn held his gaze in silence for ten long seconds, then nodded fiercely.
    â€œMake sure youdo.”

PART TWO

    THE BEAR

chapter ten
    B y nightfall, the perimeter fence of their enclosure was completed. They had yet to fill in the spaces between the two rails with brushwood and saplings, but that would be done in the morning.
    Thorn called a halt to their work as the shadows lengthened across the small camp, and the crew set about building small individual shelters for the night, using cut branches