The Kings of Clonmel

Chapter 5

It was after midnight. Selsey was dark and silent as its inhabitants slept. There was no watchman. In this remote, little-known village there had never been a need for one.

But there was a need tonight, just as Halt had expected.

He was crouched behind one of the fishing boats drawn up on the sand, clear of the high water mark. His first thought had been that the Outsiders would strike at one of the houses. Then he'd realised there was a much better target for them. The fishing boats. – The source of the village's wealth. If a house were burnt, the inhabitants could live under canvas while they rebuilt. Not the most comfortable situation, but life could continue.

If the boats were destroyed, there would be no fishing, no income, while new boats were built.

It would be in keeping with the Outsiders' ruthlessness to attack the boats, he had decided, and now his theory was proving correct. Half a dozen shadowy figures stole from the trees fringing the beach and moved furtively across the sand towards the fishing boats. As he watched them, Halt wondered vaguely why they automatically fell into a crouch as they came. It did nothing to conceal them from view. It simply made them look more suspicious. Yet most people under similar circumstances would do the same thing.

Four of the men stopped by a pile of fishing nets and equipment ten metres away. The 'Other' two continued, heading for the boat next to the one Halt was crouched behind. He peered around the stern as they knelt in the sand, only a few metres away – close enough for him to hear their whispered conversation.

'How many will we do?' asked one.

Farrell says two should be enough to teach them a lesson.' Farrell was the grey-haired man Halt had observed earlier in the day, the leader of this small band of Outsiders. 'I'll do this one. You take care of the one behind me.' The speaker jerked his head towards the boat where Halt was concealed. His companion nodded and began to crawl on hands and knees towards the bow of the boat, staying low to remain out of sight

Quickly Halt drew back and moved away from the stern, angling out towards the third boat in line so that he would be behind the saboteur when he turned his attention to his task. The beach was littered with large patches of seaweed and driftwood, tossed onto the shore by the wind and tide. As he heard the man rounding the bow, Halt dropped motionless to the sand, covered by his cloak. If the man noticed anything, he would have taken the motionless Ranger for yet another clump of debris. As the old Ranger adage went, if a person doesn't expect to see someone, odds are he won't.

Halt heard the scrape of flint on steel and raised his eyes a fraction. The man was hunkered behind the boat, his back to Halt. As the Ranger watched, he heard another scrape and saw the brief blue flash of light from the flint.

On elbows and knees, he slithered forward like a giant, silent snake, rising to a crouch as he reached the unsuspecting man.

The first moment the raider knew he wasn't alone was when an iron bar of an arm clamped across his throat, while a powerful hand forced his head forward to complete the choke hold. He managed one small gasp of surprise before his air supply was cut off.

'What's wrong?' the whispered call came from the other boat. Halt, continuing to apply the choke hold on the rapidly weakening man, replied in a similar whisper.

'Nothing. Dropped the flint.'

He saw the reflection of another flint striking steel from the other boat as he heard the angry whispered reply. 'Well, shut up and get on with it.'

The choke hold had taken full effect now and the man he had surprised slumped unconscious. Halt laid him down in the sand. There had been no further sound of flint striking steel from the far side of the boat, which meant the first raider had succeeded in getting a flame lit. There wasn't any time to waste. The sun-dried timbers of the boat, coated with varnish and paint, and the heavily tarred rigging, would burn quickly. The quickest way to reach the man was over the boat between them. Halt swarmed over the bulwark, crossed to the far side and rolled over onto the sand.

As he came to his feet, he saw the tiny glow of a flame in the tinder held by the man. The raider was looking at the flame as he heard a slight noise behind him. He glanced up, his eyes dazzled by the tiny patch of flame, and saw only a dark figure a few metres away. Logically enough, he assumed it was his companion.

'What are you doing? Have you finished?'

The time for concealment was over, Halt thought. In his normal voice, he replied, 'Not quite.'

Too late, the other man realised this was a stranger. He rose from his crouch. But as he did, Halt slapped the burning pile of tinder out of his hand, scattering it onto the sand. Then he followed through with his other hand, his left, in a hooking palm strike that had all the power of his twisting body and shoulder behind it.

The heel of his hand slammed into the man's chin, snapping his head back and sending him crashing into the hull of the boat with a cry of pain. As the man slid to the sand, half-conscious, Halt yelled at the top of his lungs.

'Fire! Fire in the boats! Fire!'

He heard a chorus of startled exclamations from the other four raiders as they tried to figure out what had happened. There was no plan to start yelling once the fires were lit. Yet as far as they knew, only their two companions were at the boats.

'Fire!' Halt yelled again. 'Get to the boats! Fire!'

His voice was startlingly loud in the peaceful night and already there were lights showing in the houses of the village. The four men realised now that things had gone seriously wrong and they rose, running towards the boats. Halt broke from cover, angling up the beach and away from them. Instinctively, they turned to pursue him, which was what he'd intended. He didn't want them trying to finish the job of setting fire to the boats.

'Get him!' he heard someone yelling, and the soft thud of feet in the sand was close behind him.

But now there were other voices shouting in the distance, as the villagers awoke and raised the alarm, and he heard the running feet behind him hesitate.

'Let him go! Get Morris and Scarr and let's get out of here!' he heard the same voice yell. Morris and Scarr would be the two who had tried to burn the boats and the raiders wouldn't want to leave them for the villagers to question. The running feet behind him turned away, heading back to the boats. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder and saw the four men heading back to drag their companions clear. Several hundred metres further down the beach, lanterns indicated the villagers heading for the boats, although their initial sense of urgency was gone as they could see no sign of fire at the boats.

The raiding party would have time to get away, he thought. But there was little he could do about that now. The large marquee where the Outsiders were camped was slowly coming to life as well. Doubtless they'd been awake all along, watching for their accomplices to carry out their plan. Now, of course, they could hardly pretend to have slept through the racket.

Halt slowed his pace to a jog as he reached the trees at the edge of the beach. He stopped inside the shadows they cast and took several deep breaths. Like all Rangers, he was in excellent physical condition. But it never hurt to rest when you had the chance and he could feel the adrenaline surging through his system, making his breath come faster and his heart beat more rapidly.

Calm down, he told his racing body, and he felt his pulse begin to slow to a more normal rate.

All in all, it had been a successful night, he thought. He would have preferred it if one or two of the raiders had been left behind for the villagers to question. But at least he'd thwarted their plan to burn the boats.

And he would have thrown a large doubt into their minds as they tried to work out what had gone wrong with their plan and who had interfered.

He smiled grimly to himself. He liked the idea that the Outsiders might have something to worry about. Perhaps it was that small satisfaction that took the edge off his natural sense of caution. As he turned to head for the spot where he had left Abelard, he blundered into a man who stepped from behind a tree.

'Who the blazes are you?' the man demanded. He had a heavy spiked club in his hand and he swung it up now, preparing for a crushing blow onto this stranger's head.

The immediate act of aggression told Halt that this was another of the Outsiders' gang. Recovering quickly from his shock, he flat-kicked sideways at the inside of the man's left knee. The leg buckled and the man collapsed with a cry of pain, holding his injured knee and yelling.

'Help! Help! Over here!'

Halt heard answering cries and the sound of bodies running through the trees and bushes. Moving like a wraith, he sped away. He had to reach Abelard before the pursuers caught up with him.