The Outcasts by John Flanagan Read Free Book Online

earn a living as a laundrywoman, taking in washing for other families in Hallasholm. It was menial work, and a considerable comedown from her former position as the wife of a warrior. But she was a strong-willed woman who believed there was no dishonor in hard work and she kept her head high. For Stig, however, the shame of his father’s crime, and the pain of his desertion, cut deeply.
    Soured by his father’s actions, he became moody and suspicious, always thinking that the other boys were talking about him, mocking him for his father’s weakness. His temper would flare at the slightest provocation, whether intended or accidental, and he was constantly getting into fights, often taking on more than one opponent at a time.
    He took a lot of beatings but he doled out a lot of punishment as well. As a result, the other boys in Hallasholm began to steer clear of him. One never knew when an innocent comment might be taken the wrong way.
    Of course, as boys will do, some of them tended to make comments that were not so innocent, taunting him from a safe distance and from the security of overwhelming numbers.
    In a warrior society like that of the Skandians’, boys tended to band together in cliques or groups. Tursgud was the leader of one of these. He was tall, well built, handsome and an excellent athlete. He was also supremely arrogant, and he delighted in taunting loners like Stig and Hal. In Stig’s case, he could usually be assured of an enraged response. Stig would charge at him, fists swinging wildly, whereupon Tursgud and his followers would administer a beating. Tursgud never taunted Stig in a one-on-one situation. He always did so when he had three or four of his cronies to back him up.
    Hal might have been tempted to seek Stig’s friendship had he not shared in the general wariness about the troubled boy. Besides, Stig diverted some of Tursgud’s attention from Hal and he knew that if he took the other boy’s side he would be drawing attention to himself. Bitter experience had taught him that this was not a wise thing to do.
    And so matters might have continued, until the day of the lobster trap incident.
    It was a crisp autumn day—one of the last when the inhabitants of Hallasholm might expect to enjoy a few hours of clear, bright sunshine. All too soon, the dark, rolling clouds of winter would be upon them, and they would endure months of bitter winds and deep snow.
    Hal had taken his fishing pole and set out to see if he could lure a few fat bream onto his hook. He passed through the village on the way to one of his favorite fishing spots.
    Several groups of boys were playing a ball game on the common green, kicking a round, inflated bladder toward goalposts. The rules seemed to be flexible. Occasionally, a boy would pick up the ball and run with it, a signal for others to tackle him and crash him to the ground. Often as not, his own team members would be the first to do so. Hal watched from a distance for a few minutes. He felt the usual twinge of regret that he wasn’t included in these games, and that he lacked the confidence to ask if he could join in. Then he heard Tursgud’s voice, shouting down the others as he loudly proclaimed his interpretation of the rules. Hal shrugged and continued on.
    His fishing spot was to the west of Hallasholm, where the cliffs rose steeply from the ocean and the waves crashed against their bases. It was a small inlet, where the force of the waves was broken by a ring of large rocks a little offshore. A precarious track led down the cliff face to the bottom, where a flat rock gave him a good spot to fish from. The track made it a tricky spot to reach, which was why it was a good fishing spot. Experience had taught him that fish avoided places that were easy to reach.
    As he approached along the cliff top, another figure emerged from the rocks some fifty meters ahead of him. After a few seconds, Hal recognized Stig and he frowned. The path down to his fishing spot was