The rush from the central compound almost took Jane's breath away. Their mayor had issued orders so fast that she almost missed what her role should be. The constant crash of shards on the stone walls and the rain of debris landing around them made thinking difficult, but standing there doing nothing was the worst of it. At least she would be doing something now. She headed straight for the food store, grabbing some small barrels from the quay as she ran. Through the door and into the store; how much could she carry in one go? She still needed to be able to run! Around her other villagers were already picking up everything they could; ropes, trowels, hammers, chisels, all needed to start anew in another place. Jane started filling the barrels. She left the butchered meat which would rot easily and just went for pre-prepared food and as many vegetables and seeds as she could muster. Four small barrels, filled to their very lids, and Jane was feeling weighed down. She must get this valuable cargo onto her boat and get it out to sea. That was the idea. Any one with a small fast boat should grab what they can and get out to safety; the ships would pick them up later. It would be quicker then waiting to fill the ships which required several people to get them moving, and needed to be out of the harbour as soon as possible.

As Jane stowed the barrels on her small, bright blue boat, she saw the first of the huge caravels move gracefully out of the harbour gate. The night was drawing in, as was a light mist, and the tall proud mast carved a black shape against the reddened sky. Arrows came over the walls, line after jagged line, and Jane saw a couple of her friends fall, injured, then stagger towards the remaining craft. One came her way, a young man called Brennan, and she shooed him onto her boat. One more trip back to the stores and Jane took as many rags for bandages as she could and a backpack of herbs and precious healing covers, then back out to her boat. As she jumped aboard she heard a rumble and crash as the first wall of the compound fell to the raiders' catapults. Their time was up; they must leave now. She shouted out to see who was left without a boat, but those not onboard a craft were already jumping into the water and swimming out to the ships. Jane raised her anchor, and she and Brennan headed towards the harbour gate.

She had sworn to herself that she would not look back, but she turned almost instinctively. She watched in fear as first one then another and then all of the compound walls came crashing down and, in a final volley of arrows, the raiders broke through and streamed onto the harbour walls. But they were too late. The wind was up, and Jane moved the boom to take its full force in her small sail, and they were whisked away to where the ships now waited. The mist thickened, wrapping its arms around the fleeing villagers, and the last of the flickering lights of the harbour dimmed then vanished from view. For the moment they were safe. Jane hauled up against one of the caravels. She was the last to leave the harbour, her frantic dash for more rags and healing covers nearly her undoing. But there were many injuries, and the villagers would be grateful for them now. She loaded all her barrels onto the caravel, helped Brennan climb aboard and then bashed a hole in the hull of her precious boat. If she could not use it, she would not leave it for the raiders either. As she climbed aboard the large oaken ship, she could not bring herself to watch the small craft sink beneath the waves. Other villagers were doing the same with their boats, and soon they were all aboard and the mayor gave the command that brought fear into their hearts. Turn South.

The Southern Seas of Wurm were feared by all; home of storm and giant beasts, the talk of fishermen and explorers. Few travelled these waters, and those that had gone farther than their means had never returned. Beyond the horizon was a vast emptiness, but perhaps, just perhaps, lay also their salvation. What they were risking here was almost beyond imagining, but risk it they must. So, slowly, heavily, the great bows of the eight ships turned towards the south, picked up the northerly trade winds, and headed into the unknown.

The Southern Seas of Wurm have a reputation fiercely matched by reality. The ancients describe a vast worm, encircling the planet, continuously chasing its tale. They said it kept the world in balance as it spun head over heals, north to south. The Circle Sea it was called.The reality is not so fantastical, as the villagers discovered, but maybe as dangerous. The helmsmen reported first; as they steered with the trade wind ever southwards, they began to find the boats being pushed to the East by a strong current. As they corrected more, so they were turned more till they risked being pulled backwards into the current. The waves drew longer, deeper furrows into the seas, great valleys, deeper than the highest mast. The mayor feared not only the current but that the ships would lose each other. He ordered bright lanterns lit at the very tops of the masts, and brave volunteers tied themselves into the crows nests to pass messages between the ships. The helmsman on the Mayor's ship called that he could no longer fight the current and he must turn into it or risk being capsized. The Mayor agreed and signalled to his man in the crows nest to pass the message on. Turn South East.

As the helmsman turned the great wheel, the ship leant fiercely to the side, current and sail working against each other. The Mayor shouted to the crew to pull in the mainsail. As they did, the boat righted and shot forward with the current with a mighty creak of her great oak keel. They mayor and his helmsman fought to hold the course, but hold it they did. The man aloft called that the other boats had also pulled in their sails and were following hard to aft. Fourteen hours, they hung on like this. At one point they half raised the sale to help move them a little south so they were not trapped in an endless round-a-bout of water. Fourteen hours as storms clouds gathered and lightning tore the sky in twain. Fourteen hours till the Helmsmen felt their ships start turning south as the pressure of the current lessened. The mayor ordered the sails raised to their full and the eight ships shot from the current into the balmy Southern Ocean of Wurm. They were safe, for the moment. But where were they? The villagers began to come out on deck into the warm sunshine, warm and yellow, far different to the way the sun seemed in the north. A cry came fromt he Crows Nest. Land.

It was but a tiny island, with few trees and a rocky, volcanic centre. But it was a rest from the sea, had fresh water, and a sheltered bay, so the mayor ordered the ships to weigh anchor. Jane climbed off the caravel and swam ashore. The soft sand seemed like it was little disrupted in this calm, pale blue sea. The waves lapped very gently, though in the far distance, the roar of the current which had brought them hear thundered on, the horizon dark with the clouds that marked it like a warning. The Mayor wandered over to Jane. "You have sailed a lot, both in your own boat and crewing the caravels, could you sail back into that?" Jane shook her head and the Mayor's helmsman who had walked up to them agreed. "From the north, the build up was smooth. I don't know why, probably something to do with the depth of the sea there. But here? The change is sharp, sudden. You heard the scream of pain from the timbers as we hit calm waters?" The Mayor nodded. "You could multiply that ten fold trying to get back in that river. It would rip these boats apart. It will be many turns of Wurm before we can build a ship strong enough to take us north. If we are to live, it will be here in the south." The helmsman kicked the sand beneath his feet. "But not here, nothing will grow in this."

The villager was right, and Jane, a farmer in her old life, knew that this island of rock and sand was not for them. Once rested, they must travel on. "We continue South," the Mayor decreed. "The legends say land is in the south. South is where we are headed. And if we hit the frozen seas, then we will turn and try east, or west. But North is dead to us now."

For three weeks the travellers continued. This world was a myriad of small isles, some just rock, others tranquil oasis such as the first they had found, others little more than sand banks, but none offered a new start, none blossomed with the fertility and size that the travellers so desired. Then, one cold dawn, as their ever southward journey brought them closer to the Frozen Seas, a look out shouted that she had spied a sail on the horizon. Ships? People? The villagers could not ignore this sign and changed direction to meet this unknown sailor. As they sailed onwards, from over the horizon, and the gentle swell of the ocean they spied first one mast, then another, then a third. More and more grew over the horizon like a forest. There were boats of many different designs and sizes. And flags too. Jane recognized the ensigns of both her kingdom and that of those that had raided her village. But the ships seemed not to be fighting. Indeed, they were all sailing together, as one flotilla. The Mayor hailed the boats as Jane finished counting; thirty four ships in total. A cry came back from the flotilla and sails were pulled in as the boats slowed to a stop.

Refugees; they were all refugees. Forty Two ships of farmers, diggers, builders, miners, fisher folk, ship builders; from different lands, in different clothes from different villages. But here they were all refugees. The raids had not been one way; both sides had made a grab for land as the uneasy, generation long truce had broken down in the halls of the kings. And many, so many, had made for the coast, found ships and friends and had headed south. Some had not made it through the Circle Sea, as they had named the torrent of water that was such a barrier, but most had, and they were now all here. Mayors and Commanders and star gazers compared notes. Where had they been, what ilses had they marked on their hastily drawn charts? It became clear that between them, much of the southern seas had been covered; all except one area that was, as far as any could make out, directly due south of the Kingdom lands. It was where they all would have arrived had the hideous Circle Sea not dragged them off their chosen path to scatter them like seed all over the south.

The Forty Two raised anchors, the sound of anchor chains echoing over the seas, and as the breeze took a breath in their honour, they pointed their many bows forward, filled their sails and headed north once again. It was not a short journey, but it was one strengthened by the hardened determination of this mixed people, drawn together by a common cause, by common loss. And the wind blew them on with renewed vigour, as if it had been but waiting for them to make the right decision, to take the right direction. North they sailed and faster as the wind built more. Dark clouds drew round them, and they were drenched with a storm. But still they sailed on. And then, at dawn on the fifth day, the wind dropped; the cold wind from the south that had been chilling their backs, but had powered them expelled its last breath. And as the sun rose, a warm, gentle breeze blew from the east and pushed them gently to the west. The crews were tired. The storm had taken its toll, the food supplies were low, and the people let the breeze coax them where it will.

And then, a single shout. A single, clear voice from atop the highest mast cut through the tiredness will a hail of good news. "Land," it called. "Lots of Land! Our Land!"

And so it was. Over the horizon the land grew. First like a small island, and then it grew wider, and higher, and grander. Gulls, called out from the shores, welcoming the tired people, drawing them in. One by one, the ships drove toward the surf, their torn sails filled with warmth and hope, and as they dropped anchor, the people dived from the ships and swam to the vast beautiful shore, climbed upon the beach and looked at their new home. Jane joined them and, wiping the water from her eyes, gazed across a vast plain, a long, glistening fjord, stared up and majestic mountains, saw the distant dark green of vast forests, and heard the cries of animals and birds.

They had found Freedom at last. This land they named Independence, for it was liberation for so many of them and together they would found something new.

Jane watched the leaf fall from the ancient oak tree, a giant in the hills of the south. The warm autumn breeze lifted and teased the reddish brown leaf, taking it on small journeys up and left and right, back and fore, delaying its final resting place amongst the many that had fallen before. As it touched the ground, Jane closed her eyes, touched the great tree and muttered a quiet prayer to the tree spirit. The spirit smiled for it recognised her as one with Fo, his kin. And he accepted her prayer and offering as his own.

And in the north, upon a hill deep within a forest, two stone gates, bound with Ivy and ancient beyond days began to sing gently to their long forgotten cousins, in war torn lands many leagues to the north.