Scorpion Mountain by John A. Flanagan

sunshine, children playing. And of course, there were guards patrolling around the perimeter of the castle, their helmets, armor and spear points occasionally catching the sunlight.
    He studied the surrounding land. The ground around the castle was landscaped with small shrubs and isolated trees. The grass was mown short and he realized that, beautiful as the grounds were, they were also highly practical. There was no cover to conceal any attacking force. The trees of the forest were at least a kilometer away and there would be no way an enemy could stage a surprise attack. Any attackers would be sighted long before they came within bowshot. He craned out and looked upward. The turrets and spires of the castle were decorative. But they were also practical. Jutting out at each corner, their crenellated tops provided positions from which archers could sweep the ground below, close to the castle walls. And of course, any attacker trying to find shelter there would have had to cross the moat first.
    Castle Araluen might be a spectacularly beautiful building, he thought, but it would also be a remarkably tough nut to crack. He glanced down into the courtyard, where a group of servants were drawing water from a well in the middle of the cobbles. With an internal water supply, it would be able to withstand a long siege.
    There was a knock at the door and he shoved off the windowsill and crossed the room to open it. The heavy wooden door was perfectly balanced. It swung easily and silently on its oiled hinges to reveal Ingvar standing in the corridor outside.
    Hal was momentarily taken aback. He had half expected Stig or Thorn to be there, ready to discuss the meeting with Duncan. But he smiled and gestured for the massively built boy to come in.
    â€œIngvar,” he said. “Good to see you. Come on in. How’s your room? Did they get you that bigger bed they promised?”
    A half smile touched Ingvar’s face, then quickly disappeared.
    â€œYes. Yes, they did. It arrived only a minute or so after I moved in. They whipped the other one away and set up the new bed for me in a few minutes. They’re very efficient here.”
    â€œI guess that’s the way things are at a royal residence,” Hal said. “So what can I do for you?”
    For a moment, Ingvar was silent. He fidgeted with his hands, shifting his feet constantly. Hal could tell he was embarrassed and ill at ease. But when he finally spoke, the words hit the young skirl with the force of a thunderclap.
    â€œHal, I’ve decided I want to leave the brotherband and go home to Skandia.”

chapter seven
    H al was so startled by Ingvar’s words that he actually recoiled a pace. For several seconds, he was speechless. Ingvar—solid, reliable, powerful, loyal Ingvar. The idea of the Heron Brotherband without him was unthinkable. He had always been there when Hal needed him. Immensely strong, with a quiet wisdom and a gentle sense of humor. Above all, Hal realized, it was the fact that he was so utterly dependable—a constant in their dangerous world—that made him so invaluable. Finally, he found his voice.
    â€œIngvar, what is it? Is it something I’ve done? Has someone in the crew said something to insult you? I can’t believe what you’re saying!”
    But Ingvar was shaking his head at the suggested reasons for his wanting to leave.
    â€œNo, no, Hal. On the contrary, you and the rest of the brotherband have given me a sense of worth and a sense of purpose. Since I’ve been a Heron, I’ve realized that I’m not totally useless. I can actually contribute.”
    â€œOf course you can!” Hal said. He gestured for Ingvar to take a seat at the table by the window and joined him there, leaning forward to appeal to him. “After all, ask that girl you carried back to the ship in Socorro. And you’re the only one with the sheer strength to load the Mangler. How would we have managed the