"Bluff it out," Halt said quickly. "He already said he was expecting Slagor, so they didn't need a password." Erak nodded. It made sense.

"Look, horseman," Erak bellowed again. "I don't need a password, do I? I'm here to pick you up. And I'm risking my neck to do it! Now if you choose to come aboard, then do so. If not, I'm going raiding and leaving you and Ragnak to your little war. Now you choose!"

Once again there was an urgent consultation on the beach. They could see Or'kam's reluctance in his movements, but equally, they could see him weighing his options, and after a long, searching glance at the wolfship, he obviously decided he had nothing to fear from the skeleton crews of rowers on the three ships.

"Very well!" he called. "Bring your ships in and we'll board."

But now Erak shook his head.

"We'll bring you out on the skiffs," he called. "We can't beach here."

Or'kam made an angry gesture. Obviously he didn't like it when things didn't go precisely according to his wishes.

"What are you talking about?" he yelled. "Slagor beached his ship right here. I saw him do it!"

Erak moved to the bulwark and stood up on it, completely exposed to any possible fire from the beach.

"Careful," Halt muttered, trying not to let his lips move.

"And tell me, horseman," Erak said, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "did Slagor then load fifty men aboard his ship and take her off the beach?"

There was a pause as the Temujai leader thought through the reasoning in what Erak had said. Erak saw the hesitation and pressed on.

"If I beach now and load your men aboard, we'll never get her off again. Particularly with the tide falling the way it is."

That seemed to clinch it. Or'kam reluctantly signaled his agreement.

"Very well!" he called. "How many can you take at a time?"

Erak resisted the temptation to heave a sigh of relief.

"Three skiffs, eight men each," he called. "Twenty-four at a time."

Or'kam nodded. "All right, Skandian, send in the skiffs."

"P OSITION TWO:SHOOT!" CALLED W ILL, AND THE HUNDRED archers' arms rose to the same angle, drew and released, more or less simultaneously. The slithering hiss of the release was magnified a hundred times, and Will and Horace watched in satisfaction as a dark cloud of arrows arced across the intervening space to the target that had suddenly popped up.

Evanlyn was sitting on an old broken cart a few meters behind the line of archers, watching the scene with interest.

They could hear the distinctive soft thudding of arrows striking into the turf around the target, and the harder, clearer smack of those arrows that actually hit it.

"Shields!" bellowed Horace. Beside each archer, a foot soldier stepped forward with a rectangular wooden shield held on his left arm, positioned to cover both himself and the archer as he reloaded. It had been an idea the warrior apprentice had come up with while he'd been watching an earlier practice shoot. Will had readily adopted the improvement. With only one hundred archers, he couldn't afford to lose any to the return fire the Temujai were sure to mount once they saw his men in action.

Will glanced quickly around to make sure his men were ready for the next shot. Then he turned back to the practice field, searching for the next target to appear.

There! As the team of men behind him hauled on a set of ropes, another flat board swung up out of the grass. But he had nearly missed the movement, waiting to see if the archers were ready. He felt a slight twinge of panic. Things were moving too fast.

"Clear!" he called, wishing his voice wouldn't tend to break when he did this, and the shield bearers stepped clear.

"Half right! Position three:shoot!"

Again they heard the slithering hiss. Another cloud of arrows cast its fleeting shadow across the field and riddled the area around the target. Already, another target was rising out of the grass, much closer in this time.

"Shields!" Horace called again and once more the archers were hidden from return fire. As he ordered his men to do this, Horace performed the same action, concealing Will behind one of the large shields.

"Come on, come on," Will muttered, shifting from one foot to the other as he watched the men select new arrows and nock them to the string. The archers sensed his urgency and hurried their reloading. The extra haste made for clumsiness. Three of them dropped the arrows they were about to nock; others fumbled like beginners.

Frustrated, Will realized he'd have to go with the men who were ready. He swung his gaze back to the target. But the men on the ropes were hauling it in, so that it slid toward them on its sled-like runners, matching the speed of an enemy advance. The range had closed too quickly for him to make an instant assessment. In the time that he'd been watching his men, he'd lost his concentration and his sense of the battlefield.

He stepped down angrily from his command position, a low platform built at the end of the line of archers.

"Stand down!" he called. "Everyone take a break."

He realized he'd been sweating freely with the tension and wiped a corner of his cloak across his forehead. Horace set the large shield down and joined him.

"What's the trouble?" he asked.

Will shook his head, defeated. "It's hopeless," he said. "I can't keep track of the targets and the men at the same time. I lose my perspective. You'll have to watch the men and tell me when they're ready."

Horace frowned.

"I could," he agreed. "But on the day, I think I'm going to be a little busy shielding you from any return shots. I really need to keep my eye on the enemy too. Unless you want to be turned into a pincushion."

"Well, someone's going to have to do it!" Will said angrily. "We haven't even begun to practice against the Kaijin and the whole thing's falling apart already!"

Halt had told them about the Kaijin. They were specialist marksmen and each group of sixty Temujai riders would have one with them. The Kaijin were assigned to pick off the leaders in any enemy group. It would be Will's task to counteract them and he'd devised a drill for it, with additional, smaller targets set in the field, ready to rise into view unexpectedly. But if Will was dividing his attention between his own archers and the enemy, his chances of nullifying the enemy marksmen would be low indeed.

On the other hand, his chances of being shot by one of them were considerably higher.

"I could do it," said Evanlyn, and both boys turned toward her. She saw the doubt in their expressions. "I could do it. I could keep an eye on the archers and call when they're ready."

"But that'll put you in the battle line!" Horace objected instantly. "It'll be dangerous!"

Evanlyn shook her head. She noticed Will hadn't objected so far. She could see he was at least considering her idea. She hurried on before he could veto the suggestion.

"The archers aren't actually in the front line. You'll be behind it, and protected by a trench and an earth mound. You could build me a kind of a dugout at the end, beneath your command position. I'd be safe from arrows there. After all, I don't need to see the enemy, just our men."

"But what if the Temujai break through our line?" Horace said. "You'll be right in the middle of it then!"

Evanlyn shrugged. "If the Temujai break through, it won't matter where I am. We'll all be dead. Besides, if everyone else is taking a risk, why shouldn't I?"

Horace was wise enough not to reply Because you're a girl. And he had to admit that she had a point. But he wasn't convinced. He turned to Will.

"What do you think, Will?" he said. He expected the apprentice Ranger to agree with him and he was a little surprised when Will didn't answer immediately.