Chaosbound (25 page)

But as a young man, Draken had patrolled the inland with the Gwardeen, flying over the wastes upon the back of a giant white graak.

Landesfallen was a remarkably inhospitable continent, rocky and hot
in the interior, with vast deserts of red sand that blew in raging sandstorms during the summer. The only habitable places had been on the coasts, which were now underwater, and along the banks of a few of the larger rivers. That prime farming land had all been claimed hundreds of years ago.

But there were folks who made a living in the interior of the continents—crazed treasure hunters who went exploring the deep caverns where the toth had once lived a thousand years before. Then there were the gold seekers and opal hunters who went scrabbling over the rocks all year long, living off of lizard meat and desert tortoises and the grubs that they dug up from giant termite mounds.

Draken couldn't imagine himself and Rain doing that.

But there were more immediate concerns.

“I couldn't do that,” Draken admitted. “My father and mother need my help. Besides, my brothers and sisters might be in jeopardy.”

“What are the chances that they're even alive?” Rain asked, leaning in to rest her head upon his chest. He could smell her sweet hair. The scent was intoxicating. “I mean,” she apologized, “think about it. You said that they were going deep into the Underworld, to a place called the Lair of Bones, to find the Seals of Creation, so that Fallion could use his powers to mend them, to bind the worlds into one.

“But if he just bound our two worlds together as an experiment, to see what happened, what are the chances that he lived through it? Half of Landesfallen crumbled into the sea. Surely there were earthquakes there in Mystarria. The reaver tunnels . . .” She spoke softly now, apologizing even as she tried to reason with him. “. . . would have caved in. I fear that Fallion would have been crushed.”

Draken's heart sank. “You're right,” he said. “Trying to save him, it's a fool's errand. But I have to try. You don't know Fallion, or Jaz, or Talon or Rhianna. They raised me. They were my best friends. I know that if I were in danger, they'd do everything in their power to come to my aid—even if it meant crossing an ocean and fighting their way through reavers.”

“If Fallion was alive,” Rain objected, “wouldn't he unbind the worlds?”

“I don't know,” Draken admitted. “Think about it: He's down in the Underworld, and reaching the surface could take weeks. Once he does, once he sees what a mess he's made of things, he might wish to reverse his spell—if he can. But that would mean another perilous journey, weeks or months in the making. He could be alive. I have to hope that he's alive, and at the very least make the effort to come to his aid.”

Rain just shook her head sadly. “I wish that he would unbind the worlds. I wish that we could turn about, get back to living our lives. . . .”

Now she switched the subject. “Aaath Ulber doesn't care about all of this, about your brother. He has other designs, I think. He wants to fight the wyrmlings more than he wants to save Fallion.”

Draken wasn't sure if that was true. “I think his loyalties are divided. He's two men—Borenson, who has children in danger, and Aaath Ulber, who has a wife and family in need.”

“So who will he put first?” Rain asked.

Draken knew the answer. He'd look in on his wife and children at Caer Luciare. If the ship took port at the Courts of Tide, they'd have to make their way inland for hundreds of miles. The fortress at Caer Luciare would be on their way.

But he had to wonder, was that the right thing to do? Who was in greater danger, Aaath Ulber's wife or Draken's brothers and sisters?

Suddenly the seas pulsed with light ahead and salmon began to leap from the water, their backs flashing silver beneath the powdered starlight.

The squids were driving the fish to the surface. He got up, walked to the railing, peered down, and witnessed a giant squid flash in the water, with long arms and tentacles. He had heard tales of luminous squids before, but he'd never heard of any this big.

Draken realized that he should get a spear and go to the prow of the boat, try to bag a couple of the fish in order to make their stores last.

But he hated the taste of salmon, and he wanted to stay here and cuddle with Rain.

Rain stepped up and grabbed him then by the collar and kissed him so passionately that it took his breath away. She pressed her entire body
against his, so that he could feel every inviting curve. He could sense her longings, and he had never had a woman who so wanted to make love with him.

At that instant his mother softly cracked the door to her cabin and stepped on deck. She cleared her throat and suggested sternly, “Don't tempt yourselves!” Rain scrambled to get clear of Draken's arms. “We have a long trip ahead. And don't let Aaath Ulber catch you.”

Myrrima stood staring at them in the starlight, with a crescent of moon riding the sky at her back, until Rain retreated to her cabin.

Myrrima sat next to Draken and gazed at him until he was forced to admit, “I want to marry her, Mother. I want to marry her
now
. I've never wanted a woman so much. I feel like I'll die without her.”

His mother did not answer for a moment. The only sound was that of the ship as it bounded over the waves, and the splash as a fish leapt in the air. The wind sang in the rigging, and waves drove against the hull.

Myrrima stared in wonder at the flashing lights in the water.

“There are squids down there,” Draken said. “Giant squids.”

“Yes,” she said. “I can sense their . . . hunger.” She turned to look at him. “And I understand yours. You won't die if you don't have her. I know. I felt that way about your father.”

But Borenson had changed. The notion that she could feel anything for the giant Aaath Ulber was repulsive.

“I want to take her to wife,” he said. “I want her to be the mother of my children. It feels . . . so healthy, so right.”

“No doubt,” Myrrima agreed. “Young love is always that way. But you must not make love to that girl, do you understand me?”

“Father is the captain,” Draken suggested. “He could perform a marriage.” It felt wrong somehow, imagining that his father would marry them.

“You knew your father,” Myrrima said. “He wouldn't have allowed it. I cannot imagine that Aaath Ulber will be any more eager. Hold off for a few years.”

Draken suspected that his mother didn't understand. He sometimes found himself growing dizzy with lust, and he knew that Rain felt the same way as he did. “But Mother—”

“No!” Myrrima said firmly. “You can't make a future with that girl now. We are going to war. If you were to bed her, she'd find herself with child inside a week.

“What if we get to Mystarria and find it overrun with wyrmlings? What if we find ourselves battling for our lives? What if you were killed, and left Rain pregnant, struggling to bring a child into the world and care for it?

“We have nothing, Draken—no home, no money, no safety. When you can offer Rain those things, then you can permit yourself to marry.”

“I love her,” Draken objected.

“You
crave
her,” Myrrima argued, “and that is only the beginning of love. If you really love her, you'll wait until the time is right to be together, and that is how I'll know that your love is true. You'll prove your love by showing restraint.”

Draken knew that she was right, and so he told himself that he would obey. Yet he craved Rain that way that a drowning man might crave water.

“Is there a spell that you can put upon me,” he asked, “the way that you used to ease my mind when I was a child and I woke from nightmares?”

Myrrima studied him a moment, her mouth tightening into a hard smile. She seemed to focus on something behind his eyes as she thought.

“Magic shouldn't always be our first recourse when we are confronted by a problem,” Myrrima said. “I could help ease your mind, make you forget your desires for Rain. But you'll grow more by struggling against those desires.”

Draken resisted the urge to swear, but he wanted to. He was a drowning man, and his mother wouldn't throw him a rope.

“How long must I wait to marry her?” Draken begged.

Myrrima considered. He knew that she had no idea what they might be facing, how long the coming war might last—whether it would be over in a matter of weeks or stretch out for a lifetime.

None of them knew what they were getting into. They only knew that Gaborn had warned that it was urgent for Aaath Ulber to go to battle.

Myrrima shook her head. “Years,” she said at last. “You will have to
wait for years—perhaps only three, but ten would not be too long to wait for someone you love.”

Draken took a deep breath and prepared himself to wait.

When Rain got up the next morning, she felt embarrassed. She could hardly look Myrrima in the eye.

So she went to work. She went into the hold where Aaath Ulber snored louder than an army, and milked the damned goats, then fed them some of the grass that she'd gathered the day before. Then she went topside to the galley and boiled some oats, spooned a bit of molasses over it, and served everyone breakfast—even daring to wake the giant.

She now felt determined to win Aaath Ulber's respect. In the few days that he'd known her, she felt he'd hardly said a kind word to her.

So she handed him a giant's portion of breakfast and waited for him to say thank you.

Aaath Ulber sat groggily on the side of the bed, scratched his chin, thought for a moment, and said, “Thank you, child.” He studied her a moment, as if assessing the glare in her eyes, the anger in her stance. “You know I'll expect a lot from you. You'll have battle practice each day, of course, but there is plenty of other work to do. There will be sails to be mended, decks to be swabbed. You can start by taking the bucket and emptying the water from the bilge each morning. In a few days the wood in the hull will swell up and seal tight, but until then you'll have to keep ahead of the leaks.”

“Yes, sir,” Rain said.

She got the bucket, filled it, and spent the next two hours emptying the bilge. Then she practiced swordsmanship for an hour. When she was done, she opened a bale of linen undergarments that the men had salvaged earlier, unbundled them, and found that the seawater was ruining them. She could smell mold growing.

So she took all four bales of garments topside and boiled the undergarments, then strung them out to dry, so that for the next four days linens were strewn over every spar and tied to every rope that held every sail.

Thus there were underskirts flying like pennants from the crow's nest, and breast bands in the rigging, and dainty night blouses that young newlywed women liked to wear to please their men all strewn across the deck.

She'd never really get them dry, she suspected at first. The salt spray thrown up from the whitecaps kept everything moist, but she discovered that when she climbed the rigging and got high enough, she was able to dry out the clothes.

Thus she was able to salvage hundreds of garments which she imagined were worth a small fortune, but got hardly a word of thanks from Aaath Ulber.

Any free time that she had, Aaath Ulber put her to work in battle practice, and so she discovered that she was trying to stay out of the giant's way, trying to avoid his baleful gaze.

She realized that she couldn't visit Draken at night anymore, couldn't try to find time alone. Aaath Ulber and Myrrima wouldn't approve.

Draken steered them through the night and was up well after dawn, and Rain had to be content to serve him breakfast, earn a smile and a thank-you.

Soon, Rain's muscles ached constantly from the toil of battle practice and from scrubbing the decks; she wished that Fallion would unbind the worlds, undo the damage that he'd done.

The sun rose bright and clear each day, and the skies were hardly marred by clouds. The winds drove them mercilessly toward Mystarria.

In the far north of Landesfallen, the company stopped once again to obtain firewood, get more forage for the goats, and refresh their water supply.

They set sail to the west.

Over the days, Rain's relationship with the giant did not improve. There was a wall between them, a wall so high and thick that she could hardly see over it, see Aaath Ulber for what he was. She kept expecting him to blow up, lash out at her in a senseless fit of rage.

A week out on the voyage, Rain was on her hands and knees, swabbing the deck, when Aaath Ulber bumbled past, stepping on her hand.

She let out a scream of pain, for the giant weighed well over three hundred pounds, and she heard fingers crunch as he plodded on them.

She lifted her hand instantly, found that it was swelling and bleeding. She worried that he'd broken her fingers, for pain was lancing up her arm.

She pulled her hand away, sat up, put it under her armpit and squeezed.

“Sorry,” Aaath Ulber said.

“Sorry for what?” she demanded.

His brow scrunched. “Sorry for crushing your hand.”

She knew that she'd never get an apology for the rest of his faults, but she had to ask. “You didn't have to kill my father. You left those men in Fossil alive. Why couldn't you have left him alive?”

Aaath Ulber shook his head. “Oh, child, I didn't think of it in time,” he admitted. “He pushed me too hard, too fast, and then the world went red. I—don't know how to ease your pain. . . .”

The giant choked up, then hung his head. “The man is dead. He was a fool to fight me.”

That's when Rain saw the truth of it. Aaath Ulber was afraid to apologize. His emotions were too strong, too close to the surface.

The words he had just spoken were the closest thing that she'd ever get to an apology.

“I thought you hated me,” Rain said.