Read Online 02 The Invaders by John Flanagan - Free Book Online Page B

as slowly as he’s moving?”
    Finally, Thorn called for Ingvar to stop and open his eyes. The big boy stood in the middle of the net, face flushed with pleasure.
    “Well done, Ingvar. We’ll have you running through that net before you know it.”
    Ingvar shook his head, but his wide grin showed how pleased he was with his progress.
    “Maybe not in no time, Thorn. But give me four or five years and I could work up to walking pace.”
    The assembled group laughed. But this time they were laughing with their crewmate, and not at him.
    “Good lad,” Thorn told him. “Now step out of the net. No!” he cried quickly as Ingvar looked cautiously down to see where to place his feet. “Keep your eyes up! See the net in your mind.”
    And to the amazement of those watching, Ingvar, head up and eyes straight ahead, walked clear of the net, stepping high and cleanly, without so much as a stumble.
    Then, unfortunately, as he stepped onto the clear ground, he caught his toe against a grass tussock and fell flat on his face. This time, he laughed with the others as he clambered to his feet. But nothing could detract from his feeling of accomplishment.
    “I guess I didn’t see that in my mind,” he said, and they all laughed again. Thorn nodded, smiling at the boy.
    “Just keep practicing,” he said. “Practice and practice and practice. The more you practice, the better you’ll get.”

    Late that night, long after the camp had gone to sleep, Hal woke, as a strange sound impinged on his subconscious. He lay frowning for a few minutes. It was a rhythmic trudging sound and he strove unsuccessfully to identify it. By now, he was accustomed to the usual night sounds of the sea and the wind and the rain around the campsite in Shelter Bay. But this was something new.
    He rolled out of his blankets and, seizing his belt with the saxe knife in its scabbard, he stood and stepped quietly out of the tent.
    He followed the sound to the area where they trained each day. Trudge… slide… slide… trudge… scrape. He became aware that he could hear a voice, pitched low and muttering. The words were indistinct. Then he relaxed, slinging the belt and scabbard over his shoulder as he realized there was no danger.
    Ingvar was in the center of the net. He was facing Hal, and in the moonlight, the skirl could see that Ingvar’s eyes were shut as he moved deliberately in a complex pattern of steps. Right, forward, left, back, left, right, his feet slid and trudged on the dew-damp grass. His lips moved as he called the steps to himself in an undertone.
    “Right two… back three… left one… forward two…”
    Hal smiled to himself and turned away, heading back to the warmth of his bed and leaving Ingvar to his private practice.

chapter eight
     
    T he training continued each day and all the members of the crew improved their performance in the net, even Ingvar—although he was a long way behind the others. After several days, he could even move in the net with his eyes open.
    And even though he couldn’t equal the others’ performance, he was moving far more surely than he had ever done in his life. He would never be called nimble, but his sense of balance and movement had improved remarkably.
    Which would stand him in good stead when they went back to sea, Hal thought, and he had to move around the rolling, pitching deck of the
Heron
. He was going to need Ingvar for the idea he was working on, and he welcomed the improvement that Thorn’s training had brought about.
    After working the boys in the net for a week, Thorn introduced a change to their training. He set them to practicing mock combat, with wooden weapons, one against the other. When he did so, he quickly noticed a fault in their technique.
    “It’s not surprising,” he told Hal. The crew had spent the morning hard at work, and Hal and Thorn were sitting discussing their progress. “After all, their instructors in brotherband aren’t experts themselves. They’re all