Mayor Threngell would have figured that out by now. But a port was nothing without ships.
This ship might be Fossil’s only tie to the old world, to trade between the continents. Threngell would see that, in time, too. He’d bring his mob to take the ship.
Borenson realized that he’d need to make his escape quickly, before the mayor had time to act.
The Walkin and Borenson families didn’t have much in the way of stores, but a plan began to form in Borenson’s mind. He could sail up the old river channel to Fossil and buy a few supplies. Those men in their rafts would have a hard time rowing forty or fifty miles upstream, especially now that the tides and turned, and with the lowering of the tide, it would be pulling the rafts back toward the open sea.
But no matter how he figured it, there was no way to avoid the mayor and his lackeys completely.
Fortunately, the mayor and his men weren’t well armed. If it came to a fight, Borenson wasn’t above showing them a trick or two.
It was early afternoon when the ship sailed to camp at the base of the cliff. Draken leapt out of the vessel as it neared shore and swam to a half submerged tree, tying the boat up to dock.
The entire camp swarmed down to see the ship, the children leaping about excitedly. It was a great treasure, a valuable find. The only person who didn’t come down, it seemed, was Rain, and she was the one person that Draken most wanted to see.
So while the Walkins showed off the white ship with its makeshift sails and a few barrels and crates of odd salvage, Draken scrambled up the cliff.
He found Rain preparing dinner for the clan, roasting some hapless burrow bear.
“These are for you,” he said, setting a pocketful of plums on a large rock that served as a table. He’d picked them this morning, and had been saving them all day. “They grow along the creeks.”
Rain fell into his arms, and Draken hugged her. He realized that she had been waiting for him, staying back up here while the others buzzed around the ship.
Holding her, touching her, felt like coming home.
She was a slender girl, so narrow of hip that it often surprised him when he put his arms around her to feel how little of her there really was. She had pale blond hair tied back in a sensible style, and copious freckles. Her jaw was strong, her lips thin, and her green eyes looked as if she was a woman who would brook no argument. She did not wear a dress, but a cream-colored summer tunic that was wearing thin, over a pair of tight woolen pants.
After a long kiss, Rain whispered, “Has your father told you the news?”
“What?” Draken asked.
“He plans to go back to Mystarria, to fight some war. Your mother told me all about it. She asked if I would come with you.”
Draken was surprised to learn the news this way, rather than hear it from his father. Now Rain whispered hurriedly, giving what few details she could. Mostly, it seemed that she had only guesses and suppositions, but the news was grave indeed.
“Do you want to go?” Draken asked, fighting back his worry. He didn’t want her to. He didn’t want to take her into danger.
She thought long and hard. She’d told him much of how they had fled Rofehavan in the first place, but he knew that she still had secrets.
The brutish warlords of Internook had taken over the coastal cities of Mystarria, and they were harsh taskmasters. They’d driven the peasants mercilessly, and every few months they would march through the villages and demand a levy, taking the finest of the family’s sheep and cattle, seizing anything of worth, and dragging off the fairest virgins in the city.
For the past three years, Rain had spent her days and nights in hiding, as much as she could.
Townsfolk died, driven to starvation, and each time some land opened up, a family of barbarians from Internook would show up and lay claim to it.
Soon, neighbors were spying upon neighbors, telling which family might be hiding a cow in the woods or a daughter in the cellar, so that the levies would be paid.
As a baron, Owen Walkin had commanded respect among his people, but the time had finally come when hope failed him, and he’d taken his family and run off, crossing through cities and countryside by night, until they reached the land of Toom.
He’d fled just in time, as Rain told it, for two days later the entire barony was destroyed, its citizens forced to march into the forest and never return.
Rain finally answered, “We had it hard enough escaping from Mystarria the first time. I’m not eager to go back. I don’t think I could ever go back. Stay here with me—please.”
Her voice had become soft and urgent at the last, and she begged him to stay with her eyes more than with her words. She clutched his hands, as if begging him to stay forever.
Dare I stay? he wondered. His mother and father were going away, going to fight. He couldn’t imagine leaving them to their own devices.
A moment later, Borenson came lumbering up the cliff and stood for a moment. He seemed to weave on his feet, and Draken realized that he had to be exhausted. As far as he could tell, his father had gotten no sleep since yesterday morning.
But the giant stood blinking his bloodshot eyes and peering at Rain and Draken as if judging them. At last he sauntered over and said to Rain, “I want to apologize for my harsh words yesterday. I . . . was distraught.”
Rain put her hands on her hips and gave him an appraising look. “Yesterday when you were a man, you insulted me. Today when you’re a monster, you ask forgiveness. I think I like the monster better.”
Borenson guffawed and broke into a genuine smile. “Then you would be the first.”
A clumsy moment followed. Rain looked down at the ground, gathered her courage, and said, “You need to know something. I’m in love with your son, and he loves me. We didn’t set out for it to happen. It just did. He was kind to my family, and I saw his goodness. . . . Anyway, I begged him to tell you, but he was afraid of what you would think. He was hoping that we might find some land nearby, get settled, and then introduce us. We have not done anything unseemly, except . . .”
Borenson’s brow furrowed, as if he expected her to admit to some infidelity. “Except what?”
“Except that we hid on your land. My father and brother found some odd jobs with your neighbors. We didn’t dare speak to you. We were ashamed that we had fallen too far. . . .”
Draken knew that his father was not a man to stand on station. He had been born a butcher’s son, and had made himself the first knight of the realm.
Borenson finally reached down and hugged her briefly. “Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you,” she said. She pulled away, blinked a tear from her eye, and studied his face.
“Myrrima says that you’re going back to Mystarria. She’s invited all of us to come along.”
“Will you be joining us?” Borenson asked.
Rain frowned, looked to Draken, and let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know. The family is against it. There is not much for us here, but if what you say is right, by going back to Mystarria we would be marching out of the rain to get into the storm. . . .”
Draken squeezed her hand, begging her to be discreet. He wanted to talk to his father at length before making a determination.
“You wouldn’t have to go all the way to Mystarria,” Borenson suggested. “We’ll make stops along the way. There is good land in Toom to be had.”
“There was ten years ago,” Rain objected, “but refugees took it. ‘There’s plenty of good ground left,’ they say, ‘if you’d like to grow rocks.’ But since everyone in Toom has more than they want, rocks are awfully hard to sell.”
“I wouldn’t recommend that you stay here in Landesfallen,” Borenson said. “There is food to be had, if you work hard enough. But the coastal cities are all gone, and with them went the smithies, the chandlers, the glassblowers, and so on. You’ll find yourselves lacking for comfort.”