Read The Outcasts By John Flanagan Pdf Download UPDATED
Read The Outcasts By John Flanagan Pdf Download
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Title Page
Dedication
PART 1
chapter i
chapter two
chapter iii
affiliate 4
Function two
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter viii
chapter nine
affiliate ten
affiliate eleven
chapter twelve
Office iii
chapter thirteen
affiliate fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter xvi
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
affiliate ninteen
chapter twenty
affiliate twenty-one
chapter twenty-two
chapter twenty-iii
affiliate twenty-four
chapter xx-v
chapter xx-six
chapter twenty-7
chapter 20-8
chapter xx-nine
chapter thirty
chapter 30-one
chapter thirty-ii
chapter 30-three
chapter thirty-four
chapter thirty-five
chapter thirty-six
Office 4
chapter thirty-seven
chapter thirty-eight
chapter thirty-ix
chapter twoscore
chapter twoscore-1
chapter forty-two
chapter 40-three
chapter forty-4
ALSO By JOHN FLANAGAN
PHILOMEL BOOKS
A partitioning of Penguin Immature Readers Group. Published by The Penguin Group.
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014, U.S.A.
Penguin Group (Canada), xc Eglinton Artery East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3,
Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.). Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London
WC2R 0RL, England. Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen's Light-green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a segmentation of
Penguin Books Ltd). Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124,
Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd). Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd,
11 Community Middle, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India. Penguin Grouping (NZ),
67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd).
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,
Southward Africa. Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: fourscore Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England.
Copyright © 2011 by John Flanagan. Illustration copyright © 2011 by David Elliot.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Information is available upon request.
ISBN : 978-one-101-54539-3
http://us.penguingroup.com
Also By JOHN FLANAGAN
The Ranger'southward Apprentice Epic
Book one: The Ruins of Gorlan
Book two: The Burning Bridge
Book three: The Icebound Land
Volume 4: The Boxing for Skandia
Book 5: The Sorcerer of the North
Volume half-dozen: The Siege of Macindaw
Book 7: Erak'due south Ransom
Volume 8: The Kings of Clonmel
Book nine: Halt'southward Peril
Volume 10: The Emperor of Nihon-Ja
The Lost Stories
Dedicated to our own Brotherband, Max, Konan, Alex and Henry
A Few Sailing Terms Explained
Because this book involves sailing ships, I thought it might be useful to explain a few of the nautical terms found in the story.
Be reassured that I oasis't gone overboard (to proceed up the nautical allusion) with technical details in the book, and even if yous're not familiar with sailing, I'm certain you lot'll empathise what's going on. Only a certain amount of sailing terminology is necessary for the story to feel realistic.
So, hither we go, in no particular order:
Bow: The front end of the ship, too chosen the prow.
Stern: The rear of the transport.
Port and starboard: The left and the right side of the ship, as you're facing the bow. In fact, I'm probably wrong in using the term port. The early term for port was larboard, but I idea nosotros'd all go confused if I used that.
Starboard is a corruption of "steering board" (or steering side). The steering oar was always placed on the right-manus side of the ship at the stern.
Consequently, when a ship came into port it would moor with the left side against the jetty, to avoid damage to the steering oar. One theory says the give-and-take derived from the ship's being in port—left side to the jetty. I suspect, however, that it might have come from the fact that the entry port, by which crew and passengers boarded, was besides always on the left side.
How do yous remember which side is which? Like shooting fish in a barrel. Port and left both have four letters.
Forward: Toward the bow.
Aft: Toward the stern.
Fore-and-aft rig: A sail plan in which the canvass is in line with the hull of the ship.
Hull: The body of the transport.
Keel: The spine of the ship.
Steering oar: The blade used to command the ship's direction, mounted on the starboard side of the ship, at the stern.
Tiller: The handle for the steering oar.
Beam: The side of the ship. If the air current is abeam, it is coming from the side, at a right angle to the ship's keel.
Yardarm, or m: A spar (wooden pole) that is hoisted up the mast, conveying the sheet.
Masthead: The acme of the mast.
Barrier: The part of the ship's side to a higher place the deck.
Gunwale: The upper part of the send's rails.
Belaying pins: Wooden pins used to fasten rope.
Oarlock, or rowlock: Pegs that hold an oar in place.
Telltale: A pennant that indicates the current of air'due south direction.
Tacking: To tack is to change direction from ane side to the other, passing through the eye of the wind.
If the wind is from the north and you want to sheet northeast, y'all would perform one tack and so that y'all are heading northeast, and you would continue to canvas on that tack for every bit long equally you need.
All the same, if the wind is from the northward and you want to canvas due north, you would have to do so in a series of brusk tacks, going back and forth on a zigzag grade, crossing through the air current each time, and slowly making ground to the north. This is a process known equally beating into the wind.
Wearing: When a transport tacks, information technology turns into the wind to change direction. When it wears, it turns abroad from the wind, traveling in a much larger arc, with the wind in the canvas, driving the ship around throughout the maneuver. Wearing was a safer mode than tacking.
Reach, or reaching: When the current of air is from the side of the ship, the ship is sailing on a reach, or reaching.
Running: When the wind is from the stern, the ship is running. (So would you if the wind was strong plenty at your back.)
Reef: To get together in part of the sail and bundle it against the yardarm to reduce the sail area. This is washed in loftier winds to protect the sheet and the mast.
Trim: To suit the sail to the most efficient angle.
Halyard: A rope used to haul the yard up the mast. (Haul-chiliad, get information technology?)
Stay: A heavy rope that supports the mast. The backstay and the forestay are heavy ropes running from the summit of the mast to the stern and the bow (information technology's pretty obvious which is which).
Sheets and shrouds: Many people recall these are sails, which is a logical assumption. Merely in fact, they're ropes. Shrouds are thick ropes that run from the pinnacle of the mast to the side of the ship,
supporting the mast. Sheets are the ropes used to command, or trim, the sail—to haul it in and out according to the air current strength and direction. In an emergency, the social club might be given to "let fly the sheets!" The sheets would be released, letting the sail loose and bringing the transport to a halt. (If yous were to let fly the sheets, you'd probably fall out of bed.)
Fashion: The motion of the send. If a transport is under style, it is moving according to its course. If it is making leeway, the ship is moving downwind so it loses ground or goes off class.
Dorsum water: To row a reverse stroke.
So, now that you know all you need to know nearly sailing terms, welcome aboard the globe of the Brotherband Chronicles!
John Flanagan
Office ane
THE Promise
chapter one
Twelve years prior …
Wolfwind emerged from the predawn ocean mist like a wraith, slowly taking physical form.
With her sail furled and the yardarm lowered to the deck, and propelled by only 4 of her oars, the wolfship glided slowly toward the beach. The four rowers wielded their oars carefully, raising them only a few centimeters from the water at the stop of each stroke so that the noise of drops splashing back into the sea was kept to a minimum. They were Erak's almost experienced oarsmen and they were used to the task of budgeted an enemy coast stealthily.
And during raiding flavour, all coasts were enemy coasts.
Such was their skill that the loudest audio was the lap-lap-lap of modest ripples along the wooden hull. In the bow, Svengal and two other crew members crouched fully armed, peering ahead to catch sight of the dim line where the water met the beach.
The lack of surf might make their approach easier but a little extra noise would have been welcome, Svengal thought. Plus white water would accept made the line of the beach easier to spot in the dimness. Then he saw the beach and held up his hand, fist clenched.
Far backward, at the steering oar, Erak watched his second in command as he revealed five fingers, then four, then three every bit he measured off the distance to the sand.
"In oars."
Erak spoke the words in a conversational tone, unlike the blare he usually employed to laissez passer orders. In the center section of the wolfship, his bosun, Mikkel, relayed the orders. The four oars lifted out of the h2o every bit 1, rising quickly to the vertical so that any excess water would autumn into the ship and not into the sea, where it would make more dissonance. A few seconds later, the prow of the ship grated softly against the sand. Erak felt the vibrations of the gentle contact with the shore through the deck beneath his anxiety.
Svengal and his two companions vaulted over the bow, landing catlike on the moisture sand. Ii of them moved up the beach, fanning out to scan the country on either side, ready to give alarm of any possible ambush. Svengal took the small beach anchor that another sailor lowered to him. He stepped twenty paces upwards the beach, strained against the anchor rope to bring it tight and drove the shovel-shaped fluke into the firm sand.
Wolfwind, secured by the bow, slewed a lilliputian to i side under the pressure of the gentle breeze.
"Clear left!"
"Clear right!"
The two men who had gone onshore called their reports now. There was no demand for further stealth. Svengal checked his own area of responsibility, then added his report to theirs.
"Clear ahead."
On board, Erak nodded with satisfaction. He hadn't expected any sort of armed reception on the beach but it ever paid to brand sure. That was why he had been such a successful raider over the years—and why he had lost so few of his crewmen.
"All right," he said, lifting his shield from the bulwark and hefting it onto his left arm. "Let'south go."
He quickly strode the length of the wolfship to the bow, where a boarding ladder had been placed over the side. Shoving his heavy battleax through the leather sling on his chugalug, he climbed easily over the bulwark and down to the embankment. His crewmen followed, forming up backside him. In that location was no need for orders. They had all done this before, many times.
Svengal joined him.
"No sign of anyone here, chief," he reported.
Erak grunted. "Neither should there exist. They should all be decorated at Alty Bosky."
He pronounced the name in his usual manner—careless of the effectively points of Iberian pronunciation. The town in question was actually Alto Bosque, a relatively unimportant market boondocks some ten kilometers to the south, built on the high, wooded hill from which it derived its proper noun.
The previous day, seven of his crew had taken the skiff and landed there, carrying out a lightning raid on the market before they retreated to the declension. Alto Bosque had no garrison and a passenger from the boondocks had been sent to Santa Sebilla, where a small forcefulness of militia was maintained. Erak's programme was to draw the garrison away to Alto Bosque while he and his men plundered Santa Sebilla unhindered.
Santa Sebilla was a small town, too. Probably smaller than Alto Bosque. Simply, over the years, it had gained an enviable reputation for the quality of the jewelry that was designed and crafted there. Every bit time went on, more and more artisans and designers were drawn to Santa Sebilla and it became a centre for fine design and craftsmanship in gilt and precious stones.
Erak, like most Skandians, cared little for fine design and adroitness. But he cared a lot nigh gold and he knew in that location was a disproportionate corporeality of information technology in Santa Sebilla—far more would normally be found in a pocket-sized boondocks such equally this. The community of artists and designers needed generous supplies of the raw materials in which they worked—aureate and silvery and gemstones. Erak was a fervent believer in the principle of redistribution of wealth, equally long as a great amount of it was redistributed in his direction, and then he had planned this raid in detail for some weeks.
He checked backside him. The anchor scout of four men were standing by the bow of Wolfwind, guarding it while the main party went inland. He nodded, satisfied that everything was fix.
"Send your scouts ahead," he told Svengal. The second in command gestured to the ii men to go ahead of the main raiding party.
The embankment rose gradually to a depression line of scrubby bushes and copse. The scouts ran to this line, surveyed the country across, then beckoned the master political party forrard. The footing was apartment hither, but some kilometers inland, a range of depression hills rose from the plain. The first rose-colored rays of the lord's day were beginning to testify most the peaks. They were backside schedule, Erak thought. He had wanted to reach the boondocks before sunup, while people were still drowsy and longing for their beds, as yet reluctant to accept the challenges of a new twenty-four hour period.
"Let'south footstep it up," he said tersely and the group settled into a steady jog behind him, moving in 2 columns. The scouts connected to range some fifty meters in accelerate of the raiding party. Erak could already run into that at that place was nowhere a substantial party of armed men could remain hidden. Still, information technology did no harm to exist sure.
Waved frontward past the scouts, they crested a depression rise and there, before them, stood Santa Sebilla.
The buildings were made of clay bricks, finished in whitewash. Afterward in the day, under the hot Iberian sun, they would glisten and gleam an almost blinding white. In the predawn low-cal they looked dull and gray and mundane. The town had been built with no particular plan in mind, instead growing over the years so that houses and warehouses were placed wherever their owners chose to build them. The result was a chaotic mass of winding alleys, outlying buildings and twisting, formless streets. But Erak ignored the jumble of houses and shops. He was looking for the repository—a big building ready to one side of the town, where the gilded and jewels were stored.
And there it was. Larger than the others, with a substantial brass-bound wooden door. Normally, Erak knew, there would be a guard in identify. But it seemed his diversion had achieved the result he wanted and the local militia were absent. The merely possible resistance could come up from a small castle set on a cliff a kilometer away from the town itself. In that location would peradventure be armed men there. But the castle was the dwelling house of a small-scale Iberian n
obleman and its location here was a mere coincidence. Knowing the snobbish and superior nature of the Iberian nobility, Erak guessed that the castle lord and his people had as petty to exercise with the common tradesmen of Santa Sebilla as possible. They might buy from them, but they wouldn't mix with them or be eager to protect them in an emergency.
They headed for the repository. As they passed a side street, a sleepy townsman emerged, leading a donkey loaded with what seemed to be an impossibly heavy stack of firewood. For a few seconds, caput down and still one-half asleep, the man failed to notice the force of grim-faced, armed ocean wolves. Then his eyes snapped open up, his jaw followed suit and he froze in place, staring at them. From the corner of his centre, Erak saw two of his men start to detach from the principal body. But the firewood seller could do them little harm.
"Get out him," he ordered and the men dropped back into line.
Galvanized by the sound of Erak'south vocalism, the man dropped the donkey's halter and took off back into the narrow alleyway from which he had emerged. They heard the soft audio of his bare feet flapping on the difficult earth equally he put every bit much distance between himself and the raiders as he could.
"Get that door open," Erak ordered.
Mikkel and Thorn stepped forward. Mikkel, whose preferred weapon was a sword, borrowed an ax from one of the other sea wolves and together, he and Thorn attacked the heavy door. They were Erak's two most reliable warriors, and he nodded appreciatively at the economy of endeavor with which they reduced the door to matchwood, placing alternate ax strokes precisely where they would do the most expert, each edifice on the damage the other had caused. The two men were best friends. They always fought together in the shield wall, each trusting the other to protect his back and sides. Nevertheless they were a dissimilarity in body shapes. Mikkel was taller and leaner than the average Skandian. Merely he was powerful and difficult muscled. And he had the reflexes of a cat.
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