Goodbye, Gran. Goodbye, Mum. Goodbye, Da.
An older lady followed some of the children outside. And another, leading two goats. They were joined by an elderly man and two girls a few seasons younger than Arkenn.
Someone remained to take care of the children.
Out in the fields, only black stalks remained of Arkenn’s and Gran’s crops. His grandmother hadn’t allowed meddling where any might see, only with the kitchen garden, hidden from prying eyes by a fence.
In the end, precaution hadn’t mattered. Jealous neighbors saw success as magery instead of careful cultivation, timing, and good soil.
Arkenn focused all his energy on the villagers’ unproductive plots of withered beans and barren cornstalks. Under his will, twisted brown vines rose from the ground, green and strong. In a few sevendays, the village would enjoy its best harvest ever.
May his efforts be enough.
Chapter Two
WhiletheSeabird’screw went about their business, Petran fished in the river shallows, several stones’ throws from the harbor. Out of sight of the ships. Yes, their “business“ involved actions unsanctioned by the local constable, and no, his father wouldn’t allow him to tag along.
Gold, jewels, brandy, trade goods they sold in back alleys. Booming cannons, the clash of steel… Adventure.
Seen through a porthole from his safe little cabin.
He brandished his fishing pole like a sword.Take that!Eighteen summers had passed since his birth. Many of the crew came on board younger still.
Yet his father’sYou won’t be a pirate. Yer mum would come back from the dead and take me with herrang in his ears every time he asked.
“I’m tired of hiding below decks like a child!” he shouted at the trees. He’d finally grown reasonable, if sparse, whiskers on his chin. Even the trees weren’t listening.
All manner of folk sailed upon theSeabird, from every point of the world, from palest blonds to those with jet black hair, some fair, some dark. The kind of adventurer or outcast who never settled in one place.
Now, with a price on their heads, they couldn’t.
Petran’s father wanted more for his only son than a life spent running from the law, or so he’d promised Petran’s dying mum.
Petran ran one hand through his hair, or tried to. His hair long ago formed the thick, matted locks worn by many a pirate, hanging down past his shoulders, the light brown highlighted by golden sun streaks. While not allowed to earn the name “pirate,” he certainly looked the part, his muscles lean, skin darkened from working on the deck of theSeabird.
Pirate. A title he’d never hold. No, while his father and the rest of the crew raided, whored, or took on supplies, he’d harvest freshwater fish or stay aboard the ship to avoid notice. The freshwater fish did make a nice change to a steady diet of sea creatures. Could he hope they’d bring chickens aboard today? How he’d love fresh eggs. Or meat. Actual meat. With gravy. And thick bread slathered in butter.
He’d caught enough fish for a meal already, but the sun felt so good on his shoulders, with a slight breeze coming over the river, keeping the day from being too hot.
Walk down the riverbank.Why? He was perfectly content standing here.No, you want to explore.A feeling, not actual words, enticed him to set down his fishing gear, putting his feet to wandering down the bank.
He tried walking in the opposite direction yet found himself turned around. What the… Well, no harm going for a stroll on such a fine day.
The occasional fluffy cloud drifted across an otherwise clear blue sky. The trees along the bank provided gentle shade. Fragrant breezes laden with the scent of pine and flowers played with the branches overhead. Of course, the crew would laugh at such fanciful nonsense. Still, Petran enjoyed time alone in the woods, away from the cramped ship, which afforded very little privacy or space.
Standing on unmoving ground made a nice change of pace.
On and on, he rambled. He should be getting back to the ship. His father wanted to set sail before sunset.
Just a little more.
Every time Petran turned back, his feet took the path away from the ship. Finally, when he could no longer see the tall masts in the harbor, he found himself on a wide strip of sand, where the river hooked to the left.
He stopped. No birdsong, no wind; even the river fell quiet.
No more sense of urgency.
Heartrending sobs made his blood run cold.
