“*RYNN!? RYNN!? Where is that boy?*” ask the woman.
She was older and tanned from the sun; her brown hair blew in the wind as she finished pulling the clothes off the line. She turned to look across the field and smiled.
“*Coming mom!*” said the little boy.
Rynn was a small boy not older than ten or twelve summers. He approached his mother and gave her a tight comforting hug.
“*Rynn, what have you been up to?*” ask his mother lovingly.
He just smiled and said nothing. He helped her gather up the rest of the clothes and followed her inside. It was just the two of them; Rynn’s father had left for the military shortly after he was born. It was said he died valiantly in the field of battle, but Rynn never knew for sure. The cottage was small, but comfortable; the fire burned and gave the place a nice glow of a happy home.
Rynn’s mother looked at him and smiled, “*So tell me what you were doing today*” as she folded the clothes.
“*Nothin’ really, just helping Ol’ Paws at his farm*” he looked up, “*do you think we could have a farm one day?*”
She laughed and shook her head, “*I don’t know dear, it’s a lot of work to run a farm. It is just us.*”
Rynn’s shoulders drooped a bit, his mother noticed and said, “Maybe I can talk to Ol’ Paws and see if we can borrow a little corner of his field. Get you started on your own farm.”
At that Rynn perked right up and he began jumping around the room.
That night after Rynn’s mother had cooked them both a meal and laid him to rest, she went about cleaning up the house a bit and taking some time to herself. As she sat down to knit she heard a noise coming from outside. She couldn’t make it out, so she headed for the door to see what it was. When she stepped outside the smell of smoke was thick, and she could see the glow of the fire coming from the village. Then she heard the loud clang of sword against sword, suddenly she saw movement in the field and ran back inside, locking the door. Doing her best to stay calm she snuffed out the fire and made her way to Rynn’s bed.
“*Rynn! Rynn, honey*” she said in a whispered nervous tone, “*I need you to wake up.*”
Rynn’s eyes fluttered open and he rubbed them, “*Wha… whats going on mom?*”
She smiled, but he could see the fear in her face.
“*Come on, dear. I need you to come with me.*”
A loud pounding came from the door that startled her and Rynn. She scooped him up and made her way to her room. Rynn looking very freightened, began to sob.
“*Who is that mommy*”, he cried.
She set him down on her bed and pushed a chest toward the wall, “*Honey, I need you to stay calm. Please, Rynn*” she looked at him with love and concern as she shoved the chest under the window.
The pounding continued and they both heard the door crack.
She knelt down by Rynn and put her hands on his face, “*Listen to me Rynn. If something happens. Anything. You run. Run as fast as you can toward Brightcliff. Look for The Sailors Way, it’s a shop and the owner should recognize you.*”
She looked deep into his eyes making sure he understood, “*You understand, Rynn.*” The door splintered
Tears running down his face he nodded, “*Run. Brightcliff. Sailors Way.*”
She turned and kicked her door closed, placing a chair to lock it in place. She then picked up Rynn and helped him through the window.
Rynn spilled out the window with a thud and looked behind him. He saw his mother climbing through the window trying to shimmy out.
“*Go Rynn! I’ll catch up!*”
He turned and started to run, he hadn’t gotten halfway across the yard when he heard a thick, sickening thud; he spun. Blood dripped down the outside wall as he saw his mother being pulled back inside, from his left two ugly men came around with short blades and toothless grins.
“*Here’s the boy*”
They charged and Rynn put his hands up in defense screaming for his mother; two meaty thuds against the ground was all he heard. As he opened his eyes he saw both men pressed to the ground by an unseen force, each trying to push their way off the ground, with little success. Rynn, shook his head and felt really woozy, got up from the ground and began running.
‘ Run. Brightcliff ’ was all he remembered. The smoke permeated the air and he sound of clanging blades echoed in the distance.