Chaosbound (24 page)

To forgive another brings peace to an offended soul, and is far more beneficial for the offender than for him who is offended
.

—Emir Owatt of Tuulistan

That first night, Draken took the rudder once Aaath Ulber succumbed to sleep, and sailed his little ship up north. The voyage across the ocean to Mystarria normally took six weeks, but their little vessel was light and swift. Being a new ship, it had no barnacles on the hull to slow its progress, and since the vessel carried no cargo, it sat light on the water, and when the sails unfurled, it seemed to fly.

Thus, Sage named the ship the
Borrowbird
. The name seemed appropriate. The vessel was white, like a borrowbird, and the birds were known for theft. They often raided the fruit trees, and were fond of trinkets. The males used bright stones to adorn their nests in the hopes of attracting females. The decorations often spread for several feet in a circle, and were wondrous to look upon, for the birds arranged stones and flowers by size and color and shape, creating collages that were lovely and bizarre, as if formed by the minds of gifted, otherworldly artists.

In the early spring the birds went about stealing pebbles from riverbeds, flowers from gardens, colorful bits of fruit or cloth, or shiny coins—anything that wasn't nailed down. There was even an odd report of a borrowbird going so far as to steal an earring from a woman's ear in order to get a glittering ruby.

With so many people wanting to steal the ship, the name was doubly
appropriate. Draken didn't like the name, for the association with theft was a constant reminder of how Aaath Ulber had killed Owen Walkin, and so Draken suggested a dozen other monikers that day.

But Sage was the youngest in the family now, and so her name stuck.

That first day, while Draken was at the helm, his mind was filled with wonder. He could not remember when he'd sailed to Landesfallen as a child. He'd been too young.

Now he was going back, but to what?

His mother came up to watch the sunset with him. She sat next to him at the rudder, staring out to sea. The ocean had been rough and wind-driven part of the day, but now it calmed. The smell of salt was thick in his nostrils, and he wondered, “What do you think we'll find when we get to Mystarria? Will it be as bad as Father thinks?”

Draken had only a vague notion of the threat imposed by the wyrmlings. He really couldn't even envision what they looked like. But if Aaath Ulber was frightened of them, then he imagined that they must be terrible indeed.

“I think, we are sailing to war,” Myrrima said. “It is not just a suspicion. Water has called me to battle. I hope that this is the last time.”

Draken knew that his mother had faced terrors beyond imagination. She'd founded the Brotherhood of the Wolf and slain a Darkling Glory in her youth, and had fought reavers by the thousands. She'd battled Raj Ahten at the height of his powers.

Yet she seemed older to him and a just a bit frail, like a shirt that was growing threadbare from too much washing.

“To war with the wyrmlings?” he asked, and was surprised to find that his mouth went dry, and he had to lick his lips to moisten them. “Water has called you?”

Myrrima nodded slowly. He knew that it was an odd thing.

“Mother, surely there are water wizards on the far side of the world who could be of better service.”

Myrrima glanced at him, turning away from the sea. “I may no longer be strong in battle, but I am strong in wizardry; perhaps that is what we need in this war.”

“Father says that the wyrmlings may have a mountain of blood metal,” Draken objected. Sage came out of the galley and sat down with them.

“I wish that it were not so,” Myrrima said. “I don't want the wyrmlings to have it. Certainly I don't want to fight them for it.

“I wish that there was no more blood metal. It is an evil thing, the way that men use each other, the way that cruel men try to force their will upon the rest of the world. Men should not wield so much power.

“For the past few years, I have been glad that the mines in Kartish had played out. It seemed to me that it gave the world a rest, allowed mankind a chance to settle down, offered people a chance to work their gardens and raise their children.

“Your father and I have been content, more at peace than I had ever imagined.”

The sun was plunging into the water out on the distant sea, a bright golden orb dipping below the horizon. Draken saw a tear in his mother's eye, something that he'd never witnessed before.

As a young man, he sometimes dreamt of war, imagining how he might prove himself on the field of battle. He'd never considered what a great gift peace could be.

Taking on firewood turned out to be as easy as sailing inland. The great tidal wave had deposited huge rafts of deadwood all along the coast, and in only a couple of hours the family was able to wrestle enough free for the entire voyage.

The greater worry was insufficient supplies. Draken had not been able to buy an ax in town, so he had nothing to cut the wood with. His father's war hammer could be used to split the logs, but it was a poor substitute for a good wood ax.

Nor did he have a decent stone to sharpen his blades with, so he picked up an assortment of rocks to use as grinding stones.

There were other things that the family wanted—proper cups and plates, spices, leather to make shoes and boots, a good large skillet, grease for frying, and so on.

But Aaath Ulber insisted that they would have to do without.

Draken dared not argue. He found that he was uncomfortable in the giant's presence. Aaath Ulber was an imposing figure, towering over everyone on the ship. And Draken had seen what happened when Aaath Ulber lost his temper.

Even now he could hardly look at the giant without having the image of Owen's death flash through his mind. Draken often found himself wondering what misspoken word or deed might set the giant off again.

Myrrima saw what was happening, and she told Rain. “Now that we know Aaath Ulber's problems, we must face them.”

“Face them how?” Rain asked.

“There are runes that I can draw on him—runes to bring forgetfulness from hurtful memories, runes to help calm him, like a troubled sea.”

With that, Myrrima got a bucket and threw it into the sea, then pulled up the rope.

With the seawater, she went to Aaath Ulber, who was at the helm, and drew some runes upon his brow to help soothe his mind—not that he seemed any great threat at the moment.

Though Rain tried to avoid Aaath Ulber, she couldn't do so completely. Late in the morning on the third day he grabbed Rain just after breakfast.

“Right, then,” he said, staring at her as if she were a brood mare. He grabbed her thin biceps, squeezed, and then smiled. The effect was chilling, for his oversized canines showed as if he was baring his fangs. “Let's see what we've got here, girl.”

Aaath Ulber had Rain come to the captain's deck; there he gave her a heavy chunk of wood and had her lunge with it, practicing sword drills in order to strengthen her arms. He made her swing until Rain fell into tears, and then he stopped and let her rest, warning, “The wyrmlings won't give you a break, child.”

When she was rested, he forced her to go through various routines of lunges and dodges, until she felt as if she'd faint.

“Too little food, and too little exercise,” Aaath Ulber had said gently. “But we'll get you toughened up.”

Rain was furious with him, certain that he sought an excuse to criticize her. But Aaath Ulber forced everyone in the company to join in battle practice that first day.

He began his lessons by telling them, “Fighting a wyrmling isn't like fighting a man. They'll outweigh you by five or six hundred pounds. So you won't be fighting level, eye-to-eye. Nor can you hope to take a blow from one and survive. You can't parry their attacks—they're too strong. A strike from a wyrmling ax will shatter every bone in your body.

“So you'll have to begin by forgetting everything that you know about how to fight.

“Your best and only defense is to avoid getting hit. We'll practice evasive tactics—dodges and leaps to help you get away from your opponent.

“You won't wear heavy armor—a little silken armor would be best, if you wear any at all. Chain mail or plate will just slow you down, and it won't do much to soften a wyrmling's blows.

“But better than defense is a good offense.

“Wyrmlings have long arms. Their strike zone is larger than yours. So you must perfect your lunges. Your goal will be to lunge in, strike quickly, and get back out of the wyrmling's strike zone before the monster can ever deliver a blow.

“More than that, your attacks must be effective. You must make certain that when you strike, you don't just draw blood. Try to make every blow a killing blow, or at least a crippling blow. You'll strike for the arteries in the groin, or a kidney, or a blow to the lungs. You want to fight with economy and grace, because as soon as you take down one wyrmling, the chances are that another will charge in behind to take its place.”

“What if a wyrmling just comes out swinging?” Rain asked. “I mean, you said that they put harvester spikes in their necks and then go into a killing rage.”

“When that happens, you must figure out how to steal the initiative. A
feint, a shout, a misdirected gaze—any one of these can cause your opponent to freeze for just an instant, and in that instant you must strike.”

So Rain practiced lunges hour after long hour, day after day, until her thighs and calves ached from hard use, and her arms felt as heavy as lead.

They were under full sail, following the coast northward.

The captain's cabin, being the finest room aboard ship, was given to Rain.

That left Myrrima and Sage in the crew's quarters, while Draken slept in the hold with his father and the goats, when he could sleep at all.

But Draken could not rest, he found that first day. It wasn't his father's snoring that kept him awake, nor was it the goats nibbling on his clothes.

It was Rain that kept him awake, his desire for her.

He'd been in love now for two months, and he looked forward to the day when he could marry.

As was the custom in Landesfallen, he'd promised himself to the girl when he was young, but it would be years before they could wed—three or four, at the least.

He needed to purchase his own land, build a house, dig a well, then plow and plant his fields for a couple of seasons, in order to prove that the ground could grow crops. He needed to plant trees and berry bushes, and it would take a few years for them to mature so that they'd bear enough fruit to support a small family.

He needed to accumulate livestock—a milk cow, some pigs and chickens. If he was lucky, he might even be able to afford a horse.

Three years it would take to prepare for a proper marriage, maybe four or five.

But the world had turned upside down.

He couldn't see himself buying land anytime soon, or planting crops. It was as if his dreams were slipping away, moment by moment, like the land that slipped behind them with each passing mile.

Draken's father steered the ship through the daytime, while Draken took the rudder at night.

He found himself yearning to be alone with Rain. So he was glad that night when she came to him in the early hours and sat cuddling against him “for warmth.”

He wrapped his arm around her protectively, and struggled gamely to resist the urge to make love.

Draken broke out in a sweat as his desire for her grew; he often found his heart pounding.

As they sailed, the ocean lit up from beneath. Large gray squids had gathered in a huge school that spanned miles, and as they rose from the water, they would flash fluorescent blue and actinic white, driving the fish from the lower depths up to the surface.

So the ocean was alive with the sounds of fish leaping and slapping their tails in the water, even as the squids put on their light show.

Draken supposed that this was some new wonder in the world. Perhaps these squids hadn't existed in the oceans before the great binding. Perhaps they had come from the shadow world.

Yet the spectacle was peaceful, beautiful. Sometimes entire fields of light would burst up at once, as hundreds of squids strobed. It was like watching a lightning show down in the water.

As Rain cuddled against him, she looked longingly to the east for a bit, to the dark woods of Landesfallen.

“You know,” she said. “You and I could get off this ship still. We could go inland and make a life for ourselves. We could forget about my family and your family, and just start over.
We
could be a family.”

There was such yearning in her voice that Draken wanted to agree. The idea had its attractions. They could try to live off the land, eat burrow bears and rangits.

It sounded like a grand adventure.

She was willing to forgo the comforts of civilization with him, the amenities that most girls demanded.