Kings of Clonmel Read Online Free PDF Page B

population of more than one hundred had the responsibility of training its young men as archers. That was how Araluen maintained a large force of trained archers, ready to be called up into the army if needed. He could see the boys hadn’t made that step so far. But he decided he’d given them enough help for one day.
    “Think about it,” he said, making a shooing motion for them to leave. He listened to their excited, chattering voices as they faded away and leaned back against the trunk of a large tree behind him. He was exhausted.
    “Nice work,” said Crowley, from a few meters behind him. Will, startled, sat up suddenly.
    “Don’t do that, Crowley!” he said. “You frightened the wits out of me!”
    The Commandant chuckled as he stepped into the glade and sat on a large log beside Will.
    “You handled that well. Teaching isn’t easy. You’ve got to know how much to prod them in the right direction and when to leave them to their own devices. You’ll be a good teacher when you get your own apprentice.”
    Will looked at him, slightly horrified by the prospect. There was the responsibility, not to mention the constant distraction of having a young person at his heels, asking questions, interrupting, racing off at tangents before thinking through a problem. . . .
    He stopped as he realized he was describing his own behavior as an apprentice. Once more, he felt a twinge of sympathy for Halt.
    “Let’s not do that for a while yet,” he said, and Crowley smiled.
    “No. Not just yet. I have other plans for you.”

6
    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 realized there was a much better target for them. The fishing boats. The source of the village’s wealth. If a house were burned, 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 toward the fishing boats.
    Four of the men stopped by a pile of fishing nets and equipment ten meters 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 meters 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 black-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 toward the boat where Halt was concealed. His companion nodded and began to crawl on hands and knees toward the bow of the boat, staying low to remain out of sight.
    Quickly Halt drew back and moved away from the stern, angling out toward the third boat in line so that he would be behind the saboteur when the man 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 to the sand, covered by his cloak. If the man noticed anything, he would take 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