Chaosbound (20 page)

“Our people are few in number now, fewer than the frowth, fewer than the arr. Like the hill giants of Toom, our numbers are dwindling. My people are called the Bawlin. In ancient times we bowed to the kings of Mystarria, and the most famous of our number served as a guard in the court of King Orden. I myself fought reavers under the banner of the Earth King, and saw the fall of Raj Ahten.”

Aaath Ulber of course could tell stories of the Great War all day; they'd even be true.

There were approving nods from some men, and one chimed in, “I've heard of them giants.”

The sheriff gave Aaath Ulber a stone-cold look for a long moment, as if weighing some argument in his mind, then said softly, dangerously, “Seize him!”

“What?” Aaath Ulber roared. “On what charge?”

“Suspicion,” the sheriff said. “There are no songs of a giant like you fighting beside the Earth King, and if you had done so, there would have been a song. Hence, I know you to be a liar.”

Aaath Ulber studied the man. The sheriff was looking for any foolish excuse to jail him—that much was evident.

Men fear power, and Aaath Ulber's size and bearing marked him as being more powerful than others.

A couple of men strode forward, armed with nothing more than torches and a pitchfork. One of the townsfolk reached for his knife.

Myrrima stepped in front of him, blocking their path. She demanded,
“Are there any songs of Myrrima and her bow, who slew the Darkling Glory at Castle Sylvarresta?”

The men drew to a halt. They all knew her name even if they did not know her in person. Some whispered, “It's Myrrima!”

“I can vouch for this man,” she said. “Indeed, I fought beside him in the service of the Earth King. Any who seek to hinder him will have to deal with me and my husband!”

The townsfolk withdrew a pace. Sir Borenson's reputation was more than enough to cow them.

At that, she turned toward the boat, and Aaath Ulber decided to forgo his chance at a beer and head for safety.

Aaath Ulber strode along in Myrrima's wake. None of townsfolk tried to stop him.

Hah, Aaath Ulber thought, not one of them has the heart to fight.

Suddenly there was a mewling cry from the darkness up the road. A woman shouted, “Murder! Murder most foul!”

Greta Walkin staggered from exhaustion as she rounded a thatch-roofed cottage. She stood for a moment in the road, panting. Sweat streamed down her face, staining the armpits and neck of her blouse. She had obviously run for miles. A dog barked and ran out to meet her.

When she saw Aaath Ulber, she froze in her tracks. Her eyes widened and she pointed. “Murderer!”

Suddenly the villagers were thrown in a panic. The hue and cry had been raised. Ancient law required all the men in town stop whatever they were doing and apprehend the suspect.

The sheriff himself drew his long knife.

Aaath Ulber stepped back; bloodlust threatened to take him.

Villagers ringed about him, a couple waving their torches as if he were a wolf that they sought to keep at bay.

Aaath Ulber felt his heart racing, heard blood thundering in his ears. The shouts of the men seemed to come from far away, as if they were in a tunnel.

At any moment the berserker rage would fall over him, unless he did something to avert it.

The Earth King's warning rang in his ears: “You must find yourself. . . .”

Aaath Ulber lunged and swung his fist lightly, smashing the sheriff in the forehead. The whack echoed from the stone walls of nearby cottages, and the sheriff staggered back, blood flowing from his broken nose. He stood for a moment, dazed, staring at the blood in his hands.

As his nose began to swell, he wheezed for air. The sheriff didn't know it yet, but he was out of the fight.

Several men had drawn daggers now, and ringed Aaath Ulber. One man rushed in blindly jabbing his pitchfork. Aaath Ulber simply leaned away, then as his opponent drew close Aaath Ulber grabbed him by the collar and sent him flying. Another took advantage of the opening at Aaath Ulber's back and lunged in with a knife swinging low, trying to hit an artery in his leg. Aaath Ulber simply kicked the man backward.

Aaath Ulber was going to grab the nearest man, but Myrrima shouted, “No more!”

She rounded on the townsmen. “I am Water's Warrior!” she shouted. “A curse on all who dare hinder us! Your crops shall dry up, and your livestock will starve. Your manly parts shall wither, and every child that shelters under your roof will waste away with a pox!”

A wizard's curse was not to be taken lightly. Perhaps only a horde of reavers could have given the men greater pause.

They looked at one another, and someone muttered, “I'm done here.” Then they began to back away, fading into the darkness.

Greta fell to the ground just outside the circle of men and lay sobbing beneath the upraised wings of the enormous white graak. “Murder!” she cried, begging for justice.

To Aaath Ulber's surprise, Rain strode forward and addressed the townsfolk. “I saw what happened,” she said. “The man who died was my father—but he did not die honorably. He had slaughter on his mind, and robbery as his goal. It was not murder, as my mother here well knows. I loved my father dearly, and once he was a good man, but killing Aaath Ulber here would not serve justice. If my father had had his way, there would be four people dead now, not just one.”

The men of the town looked back and forth, as if to decide what
course to pursue. At last the sheriff threw his own blade down. “It's not worth it,” he said, spitting upon the ground, giving water to the earth, thus to ward off Myrrima's curse.

The rest of the men backed off a pace, each spitting in turn, even as Greta lay crying “Murder! Murder!”

A couple of the men were still on the ground, panting and bloodied.

All of the townsfolk cast hateful looks Aaath Ulber's way.

Had I been alone, Aaath Ulber realized, I would have had a fight on my hands.

Myrrima headed for the ship. Aaath Ulber followed at a measured pace, while the children rushed to join them. Aaath Ulber worried that at any moment a dagger might come flying at his back. He dared not run, dared not appear guilty.

For two hundred yards he avoided the temptation to glance behind. At last he cast a fleeting glance over his shoulder. The townsfolk were all gathered in the shadow of the enormous white graak, the torchlight glimmering red upon it. The men had a bitter air of defeat about them.

Aaath Ulber wanted more supplies, yet his instincts warned against ever returning to the village.

He thought sarcastically, A fine job I did of winning these men's hearts.

10

Ultimately, greater freedom comes when we honorably fulfill our obligations than when we seek to escape our responsibilities, for the man who fulfills his obligations will have a clear conscience, while he who hides from responsibilities will forever be weighed down by regret
.

—Gaborn Val Orden

The sun had died, sinking into an evening mist that drifted in from the sea. Rain ran along the road blindly, feeling as if the Powers that be had decided to shut off the world from all light.

“Get to the ship, quickly!” Myrrima warned the others. Rain, Draken, and Myrrima had purchased what supplies they could—a pair of lamps, some twine and rope, fishhooks, fresh rutabagas and apples from farmers, eggs, cheese, honey, and ham.

Rain carried a pair of sacks, not even sure now what they held, while Sage led their pair of goats out of town, toward the ship that was moored in the distance.

The townsfolk stood in a knot in front of their great house, some of them jeering and shaking their fists at Aaath Ulber while he strode away, glaring and baring his teeth.

The young graak rider flapped off on her great white monster, heading toward the ocean, and as Rain watched, she could see its wings blotting out the first new stars, flapping gently as it rode through the heavens.

They followed the road south through town, and every minute Rain expected to encounter some resistance, but for two miles they hurried, breathless from carrying their load of food.

When they reached the ship, Draken was first aboard. He disappeared into the cabins for a moment, then stopped and looked down into the hold, trying to make sure that no one had boarded in their absence.

“All clear,” he called, and then climbed down into the hold, carrying a huge bag of turnips. He came up and Rain handed him her load, while Aaath Ulber set his own bundle aboard.

Then Rain and Myrrima helped Sage wrestle the goats over the threshold and the group tried to set sail.

The wind had died in their absence, and the ship moved sluggishly, serving as a perch for a pair of gulls that thought the prow was a fine place to roost.

The tide was still going out. This far up the channel, there were no waves, just a gentle retreat of the water, and here so close to the end of the bay, the water was filled with flotsam. Much of it had the consistency of sawdust, for there were ground-up bits of bark and twigs everywhere, but some of it was made of logs, and amid this mess she could see things more vile floating in the water—the pale bellies of dead fish, the hair of dark animals, a woman's bloodless hand.

So the group sat upon the deck as the ship drifted, gently floating toward the sea.

Rain doubted that the boat would drift far any time soon. The channel was nearly half a mile wide here, and the Hacker River had been but a trickle so late in the summer. The current was almost nonexistent.

“A night breeze will come soon,” Myrrima offered. She did not say it with hope but with certainty, as if already she felt it breathing upon her.

Rain peered to the south as the gloom deepened. She knelt on the deck, her arms thrown over the railing. Her mind was a muddle. She wanted to be with Draken, but she worried about her brothers and sisters.

Just as importantly, she worried what her family would think of her. Myrrima came and stroked her back.

“Are you having regrets?”

“I'll miss my family,” Rain admitted. “But I fear that they won't miss me—not after what I said in town.”

“You spoke the truth,” Myrrima said.

“Some people hate the truth,” Rain said, “and they hate those who tell it even more.”

“Not all truths are equally pretty,” Myrrima said. “Sometimes a truth is too hard for people to bear. Your mother will mourn Owen, but she will miss you, too.”

That brought tears to Rain's eyes. She hoped that it was true.

“It's my little brothers and sisters that I worry about the most,” Rain said. “They need someone to look after them. And they'll always think of me as the sister who ran away.”

“Perhaps the future will bring you back together again, in brighter days,” Myrrima said.

Rain shook her head. She was going back to Mystarria, where there was most likely a price on her head. She was going to war, and she could not see that the future held any light for her at all. It was darker than the skies above.