Duel at Araluen Read online

  ALSO BY JOHN FLANAGAN:

  BROTHERBAND CHRONICLES

  BOOK 1: THE OUTCASTS

  BOOK 2: THE INVADERS

  BOOK 3: THE HUNTERS

  BOOK 4: SLAVES OF SOCORRO

  BOOK 5: SCORPION MOUNTAIN

  BOOK 6: THE GHOSTFACES

  BOOK 7: THE CALDERA

  THE RANGER’S APPRENTICE EPIC

  BOOK 1: THE RUINS OF GORLAN

  BOOK 2: THE BURNING BRIDGE

  BOOK 3: THE ICEBOUND LAND

  BOOK 4: THE BATTLE FOR SKANDIA

  BOOK 5: THE SORCERER OF THE NORTH

  BOOK 6: THE SIEGE OF MACINDAW

  BOOK 7: ERAK’S RANSOM

  BOOK 8: THE KINGS OF CLONMEL

  BOOK 9: HALT’S PERIL

  BOOK 10: THE EMPEROR OF NIHON-JA

  BOOK 11: THE LOST STORIES

  THE ROYAL RANGER SERIES

  BOOK 1: THE ROYAL RANGER: A NEW BEGINNING

  BOOK 2: THE ROYAL RANGER: THE RED FOX CLAN

  RANGER’S APPRENTICE: THE EARLY YEARS

  BOOK 1: THE TOURNAMENT AT GORLAN

  BOOK 2: THE BATTLE OF HACKHAM HEATH

  PHILOMEL BOOKS

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  New York

  Copyright © 2018 by John Flanagan.

  Published in Australia by Penguin Random House Australia in 2018.

  Published in the United States of America by Philomel Books in 2019.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  Philomel Books is a registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  Ebook ISBN 9781524741426

  U.S. Edition edited by Cheryl Eissing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  Dedicated to the memory of Bill Paget,

  1942–2018

  Contents

  Also by John Flanagan

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Dimon, former commander of the palace guard and now the leader of the rebellious Red Fox Clan, leaned on a windowsill, looked upward, and scowled. He was in a room on the top floor of the Castle Araluen keep. The south tower loomed above him, several floors higher.

  He came here regularly, to stare up at the ninth floor of the south tower, where Princess Cassandra, King Duncan and their men had taken refuge. Occasionally, Dimon would see movement on the balcony that surrounded the ninth floor and once he had recognized Cassandra herself peering over into the courtyard below.

  He cursed bitterly when he saw her, but she was unaware of his presence. The people on the balcony rarely seemed to look in his direction. They were more interested in the courtyard, and Cassandra’s archers had already taken a savage toll on anyone who moved incautiously down there, straying too far from the shelter of the keep walls.

  Under Dimon’s leadership, the castle had been taken by soldiers of the Red Fox Clan. He had chanced upon the Red Fox Clan some years before. They were a disorganized, poorly motivated group of malcontents who protested against the law that allowed a woman to succeed to the throne. The law had been put in place by Cassandra’s grandfather, and it meant that Cassandra would eventually become Queen of Araluen in her own right. The Red Fox Clan clung stubbornly to the old tradition that only a male heir could succeed to the throne—a position Dimon heartily endorsed, as he was distantly related to Cassandra and, so far as he knew, the only possible male heir.

  Under a false name, he had joined the Clan and quietly worked his way to the top echelons of power within it. The Clan was big on angry talk and short on action. Dimon, on the other hand, was an expert orator, capable of rousing the passions of an audience and swaying them to his point of view. He had a powerful and charismatic personality and an inborn ability to make people like and respect him. He rose rapidly in the Clan, until he was appointed as their overall leader. He organized them and motivated them until they had become a potent and efficient secret army. He pandered to their beliefs and, most important, he gave them an agenda and a goal—rebellion against the Crown. His cause was aided by the fact that King Duncan had been an invalid for some time and Cassandra, his daughter, was acting as Regent in his place, providing an obvious example of the result of the law change.

  Dimon used the Red Fox Clan as a tool to further his own ends. He planned to usurp the throne and have himself crowned king. He saw the Red Fox Clan as the vehicle by which he would achieve this ambition.

  His chief obstacle, he believed, was Cassandra’s husband, Sir Horace—the paramount knight of Araluen and the commander of the army. Horace was a highly skilled warrior and an expert strategist and tactician. He was assisted in his leadership role by the Ranger Gilan, Commandant of the redoubtable Ranger Corps and Horace’s longtime friend. For Dimon to succeed, these two had to be lured away from Castle Araluen and, preferably, killed. Accordingly, he had devised a plan whereby Horace and Gilan set out to the north to quell a rebellion raised by a small force of the Red Fox Clan, taking most of the castle’s garrison with them. They were intercepted along the way by a much larger force of Sonderland mercenaries and Red Fox Clan members. Outnumbered three or four to one, Horace’s men had staged a fighting retreat to an ancient hill fort. Although they were currently besieged there by their ambushers, Dimon knew that a leader of Horace’s ability wouldn’t stay contained for long. It was vital that Dimon should act quickly to seize the throne.

  Initially, all had gone well. Dimon had tricked his way past Castle Araluen’s im
pregnable walls and massive drawbridge with a force of Red Fox Clan troops and came within an inch of capturing Cassandra and her father.

  But then Maikeru, Cassandra’s Nihon-Jan master swordsman, had interfered, holding Dimon and his men at bay long enough for Cassandra and Duncan to retreat to the upper levels of the south tower with a small force of loyal palace guards and archers.

  The eighth and ninth floors of the south tower had been built as a last refuge in the event that the castle was captured. A section of the spiral stairway, just below the eighth floor, could be removed, leaving attackers with no access to the upper two floors—while the defenders could move between the eighth and ninth floors via an internal flight of timber stairs. The refuge was stocked with food and weapons, and large rainwater cisterns in the roof above the ninth floor provided water for the defenders.

  So far, Cassandra had resisted his attempts to force his way into the eighth floor of the tower. But now, he had an idea that might just prove to be her undoing.

  He turned as he heard a tentative knock at the door.

  “Lord Dimon? Are you there?”

  He recognized the voice. It was Ronald, the leader of his small force of engineers and siege specialists. “Come in,” Dimon called.

  The door opened to admit the engineer. Like many of his kind, he was an older man, his gray hair denoting years of experience in his craft. He hesitated, deferentially. All of Dimon’s men knew that their leader was in a foul mood since the Nihon-Jan swordsman had foiled his plan for a quick result.

  “What is it?” Dimon said testily, unreasonably annoyed by the man’s nervousness.

  “The materials have arrived for your device, my lord,” the engineer told him. “We can begin building it immediately.”

  For the first time in several days, a smile crossed Dimon’s face. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

  “Excellent,” he said. “Now we can make things extremely unpleasant for my cousin Cassandra. Extremely unpleasant.”

  1

  “Dad’s outnumbered and the enemy can see everything he does,” Maddie said. “He can’t surprise them. I thought if I could get some men and stage a surprise attack on the enemy from the rear, that would give him a chance to break out.”

  While the traitor Dimon assumed that Maddie was confined in the south tower with her mother, the apprentice Ranger had discovered a series of secret tunnels and stairways that allowed her to move freely in and out of the castle. Maddie had infiltrated a Red Fox Clan assembly and overheard Dimon’s plan to attack Castle Araluen and trap her father and his men in the north.

  Now she had returned to the castle and made her way to the ninth floor, where she and Cassandra were formulating a plan to aid her father.

  Cassandra considered the idea. “It would work,” she said. “But where would you find the men?”

  Maddie shrugged. “I thought maybe I could mobilize the army,” she said. The castle maintained only a small regular garrison. The army was made up of men-at-arms, knights and foot soldiers from the surrounding farms and villages who could be called up in the event of war or other danger.

  Cassandra shook her head. “It’d take too long to gather them,” she said. “And Dimon would quickly get wind of what you were doing.” She stood up and began pacing the room, her brow furrowed in concentration.

  “We can hold out here indefinitely,” she said. “But what we need to do is find a way to break your father and Gilan out of that hill fort. Then, if they march south and hit Dimon from behind, we can break out here at the same time and attack him from both sides. You say there’s a tunnel into the gatehouse?” she asked and Maddie nodded. “Then you could lower the drawbridge and let Horace and Gilan’s men in.”

  She turned, pacing again, her mind working overtime.

  “But if you’re going to have to launch a surprise attack on the force holding Horace and Gilan, you’ll need men. Good fighting men. The kind who will put the fear of the devil into those Red Fox scum . . .”

  Her voice trailed off as she racked her brains for an idea. Then, her brow cleared, and she looked at her daughter with a wide smile on her face.

  “And I think I know just the men you need,” she said.

  Cassandra moved to the window, looking out over the green parkland below. There was a positive note in her voice that hadn’t been there previously, and Maddie looked up curiously.

  “So tell me,” Maddie said.

  “The Skandians,” her mother replied.

  For a moment, Maddie was confused. “What Skandians?”

  “Hal and his men—the Heron brotherband.” Cassandra’s manner was becoming more positive by the minute. “They’re due back from the coast any day now.”

  “But why should they help us?” Maddie asked.

  “Because they’re old friends and allies. We helped them when the Temujai tried to invade their country years ago. And we organized the ransom when the Arridans captured their Oberjarl. They owe us. And they’re not the kind of people to forget a debt.”

  “If you say so.” Maddie didn’t share her mother’s confidence that the Skandians would immediately come to their aid, but Cassandra knew the sea wolves better than she did. There was another point, however. “Aren’t there only twelve of them?”

  Cassandra smiled. “Twelve Skandians. Your father says they’re the best troops in the world. If a dozen of them hit the Sonderlanders from the rear in a surprise attack, they’ll cause the sort of panic and confusion you’ll be looking for. Take my word for it.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Maddie conceded. “But how will I get in touch with them?”

  Cassandra walked over to a large-scale map of Araluen Fief on the wall. Maddie followed her and waited as her mother studied the map, running a finger along the River Semath as she talked to herself.

  “Let’s see. They headed down the Semath to the sea. The wrecked wolfship was here . . .” She stabbed her finger on the coast at a point south of the mouth of the Semath. “Hal said they’d be back in around ten days, so you’ve got a few days left.”

  She traced the path of the winding river back inland, stopping at a point where it took a sharp bend to the south. She tapped the southern headland formed by the apex of the curve.

  “Here, I’d say. This would be the best point for you to intercept them. You should see them coming for some time. That’ll give you time to attract their attention.”

  Maddie studied the point on the map for a few seconds. The promontory did seem like the best choice—close enough for her to reach in good time to intercept the Heron and with a good clear view downriver. And it was sufficiently distant that Dimon would have no inkling about what she was doing.

  “I’d better get going then,” she said.

  Her mother raised her eyebrows. “What? Right away?”

  “Yes. I’ll go while it’s still dark. That way there’s less chance that Dimon’s sentries will see me. I’ll pack some provisions for the trip and be on my way,” she said.

  Cassandra nodded. “And assuming Horace and Gilan manage to break out of the fort, what’s your plan then?”

  “We come back here and I bring a small party through the tunnel under the moat. Once we’re inside the walls of the castle, there’s a hidden stairway to the gatehouse. We’ll lower the drawbridge. After that, it’ll be up to Dad and his men.”

  “And once they’re inside the castle walls,” Cassandra said, “I’ll bring my men down the stairway and hit the Red Foxes from behind.” She touched the hilt of the katana that was thrust through her belt in its scabbard. “I rather fancy the idea of having Dimon at the end of my sword.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Half an hour later, with a sack of food slung over her shoulder, Maddie stood by the door into the secret stairway. Cassandra stood beside her. She was loath to let her daughter go, h
aving only just discovered that she was safe. She gestured toward the door.

  “Maybe I could come down to the tunnel entrance with you,” she said.

  “Mum, it’s eighteen vertical ladders. Do you really want to climb down all those steps, then climb back up again?” Maddie asked her.

  Cassandra shook her head ruefully. “Not really. Just . . . oh, I don’t know . . . just take care of yourself.”

  Maddie nodded several times, not trusting herself to speak. Then she quickly embraced her mother, opened the door and disappeared into the dark stairwell.

  2

  The men in the hilltop stockade were stirring with the first light of dawn.

  The sentries on the walls, who had been on duty since midnight, were red-eyed and yawning. They greeted the men who relieved them with a mixture of reactions—some grateful that the long vigil through the dark hours was over, others irritable if their relief was a few minutes late. Then they all headed down the stairs for the compound, where the fireplaces by the lines of tents were being stirred into new life. The smell of woodsmoke filtered through the fort, along with the welcome aroma of coffee brewing and bacon being set to sizzle in pans.

  Horace and Gilan paced the timber walkway inside the wall, offering words of encouragement to the men who had taken over the watch.

  “Keep a good eye out,” Horace said from time to time. “We don’t want those Sonderland beggars to surprise us.”

  The sentries answered cheerfully enough. After all, Horace thought, they hadn’t been on the midnight-to-dawn watch, which was the most fatiguing one of all. Along with the body’s craving for rest at that time, a sentry felt alone and vulnerable while his comrades slept. He would be peering through the uncertain darkness for five hours, straining his eyes, imagining he saw movement where there was none, dealing with the sudden surge of panic: Should I sound the alarm? Was that someone crawling through the long grass? That constant tension sapped a person’s energy—mental and physical.