David Farland - Sons of the Oak

In ages past, eight hundred years ago, a race of creatures called the toth had sailed to Mystarria upon strange black ships carved from some sort of stone. They waged a genocidal war that sent the armies of Mystarria reeling in defeat.

A great hero named Fallion the Bold arose and turned the tides of that war, decimating the armies of the toth. But his people feared that more of the creatures would come, so they built huge “worldships” that could hold vast armies, and they sailed across the sea until they found the home of the toth in Landesfallen.

There Fallion’s people did their best to hunt the toth to extinction, searching through vast underground warrens for the beasts.

Most folks believed that not all of the toth were dead, that their mates and offspring had retreated farther underground, and would someday issue forth again.

Even Borenson held that opinion.

Landesfallen was so inhospitable that Fallion and his people left within a decade of discovering the continent. The lands in the interior were mostly rock and desert. That’s where the toth had lived in their burrows. But only the coasts were hospitable enough for humans, and even those were covered with strange and alien jungles.

Fallion the Bold had left guards of course, men to watch Landesfallen and bring warning should the toth ever rise again. The Gwardeen, they were called, men of mixed Inkarran and Rhofehavanish blood.

It was said that they were valiant men who lived high in the branches of the stonewood jungles, forever vigilant against the return of the toth.

Lesser men had also migrated to Landesfallen over the centuries, too. Some were crazed men who believed that great treasures might be found in the ancient lairs of the toth. Most were outlaws, fleeing from justice. And from such outlaws and madmen sprang the ancient pirate lords, whose folk had been a scourge for generations.

Pirates, Fallion thought, peering up at Captain Stalker. Some of these men could be pirates.

Worse than that, he realized, any one of them could harbor a locus. The captain himself might harbor one.

Stalker laughed at the terror in the children’s eyes. “Aye, bound for Landesfallen we are. And a prettier sight you’ll never see. When the stonewoods are in blossom, the pollen fills the forest, and the sunlight slantin’ through the trees all goes as red as rubies, and the day-bats go flittin’ about, ’untin’ for nectar. It’s a pretty sight, girls, almost as pretty as you.”

Stalker grinned and chucked Sage on the chin.

Just then, Myrrima appeared, lugging her own bundle up from the boat.

Stalker said to Borenson, “Stow your gear quickly, man. We’re pulling anchor, and we could use your back on the oars.”

“In this fog?” Borenson asked.

Stalker looked darkly toward the shore, still shrouded in thick fog. “ ’Aven’t you ’eard? There’s trouble at the palace.” He hesitated, looked to see the reaction of Borenson and the children. It wasn’t that he liked to watch folks squirm, it was that he wanted to see how well they handled pressure. There was a saying where he came from: “You never really know a man until you’ve spent a week with him in a leaky ship.” He continued. “It’s a fierce assault, powerful Runelords. Lowicker the brat is ’untin’ for the queen, no doubt. We ’eave off in five minutes, fog or no.”

Borenson took the news like a warrior. It seemed hardly to faze him, but Stalker knew that he had to be worried. Even the boys surprised the captain by adapting unreadable expressions.

Myrrima dropped her bundle to the deck, sighed heavily. “I’ll be back in a bit.” She quickly climbed down the ladder.

Stalker needed to hurry. The boys were worth a fortune, and he needed to make a clean getaway. He had a pair of deckhands that still hadn’t reported for duty-probably off drunk or whoring or both. Most likely, they’d come running when the fog lifted. But by then he planned to be far out into the open sea.

Stalker grunted a “Good morning to you,” turned, and went trundling off.

Fallion peered out into the fog and petted Humfrey, who was sleeping soundly in his tunic pocket. Fallion had heard a warhorn and shouts, but had only thought that soldiers were parading at the palace, not hunting for him.

Men are dying now, he realized, dying to keep me safe.

The battle would be fierce. Queen Lowicker, whom many called “The brat,” might not need many men to take the palace. A couple of dozen champions rife with endowments formed the heart of any army.

Borenson gave Fallion a reassuring pat on the back, though he felt no assurance himself. Given a choice, he’d not have run off with the boys to the far side of the world. But the Earth King, using his prescient powers, had warned him to do so, and he suspected that though he might face some troubles, he would make it to Landesfallen safely.

So far, everything looked to be going well. Borenson had evaded the pirate captain who was searching for them, and assassins that had struck at the palace.

Soon, he’d be on the open sea, and anyone who might be searching for them would have a hard time following their trail over the open waters.

Draken, Borenson’s five-year-old son, dared ask the question, “Are we on a pirate ship?”

Borenson let out a breath, knelt where the children could huddle close, and whispered, “Look, these are merchant marines. It’s true some of the Great Houses of Landesfallen have a history of pirate blood, but so does your house, Draken. I was born on Orwynne, an island not far off the coast from here, and your great-grandfather worked as a privateer back during the Hawks War.”

Draken looked up at his father and asked, “So we’re pirates?”

Borenson laughed in defeat. “You could say that.”

But what Borenson was really saying went deeper, Fallion knew. Most of these men probably had pirate blood in them. Some may have even worked as pirates.

Borenson was trusting the advice of the Earth King in sailing to some faraway corner of the world, but that didn’t mean that they were out of danger.

Fallion peered up through the fog with new eyes at the sailors. Something deep inside him trembled as if in warning. He was riding a pirate ship to the last place in the world that he wanted to go. Borenson wasn’t taking him to safety. Borenson was taking them into greater danger.

“Why Landesfallen?” he asked.

Borenson smiled, knelt close. “Your father warned us that the ends of the Earth are not far enough. Right? So we have to go farther.”

Fallion didn’t understand.

“When we get to Landesfallen,” Borenson said, “one of the oldest and safest harbors is at Garion’s Port. It’s a good deepwater port, in a horseshoe bay. The entrance to the bay is flanked by two huge stones that thrust up from the water. Those two stones are called the Ends of the Earth. That was what your father’s message meant, I believe. We have to go beyond the Ends of the Earth, beyond Garion’s Port into the wilds of Landes-fallen.”

“Are you sure?” Fallion asked.

Borenson looked thoughtful, nodded just a bit. “I’m as sure as I can be. There’s no better place for a person to get lost. The last we heard, your father was heading that way. He met Daymorra nearly a year ago, and the islands where she lived were not far from Landesfallen.”

If that’s true, Fallion reasoned, then we’re going to where my father died.

Fallion imagined his father in the stronghold of some pirate lair, a port shrouded beneath the vast boughs of the legendary stonewood trees. There he envisioned pirates holding his father in chains and torturing him for their own amusement.

I’ll find out how he died, Fallion thought. And I’ll avenge him, if I have to.