The Northern Approach (34 page)

Spinning as best he could in the water, Raeln came around to face Estin’s fox, seated on the bank of the river. The animal sat atop three backpacks that appeared to be loaded with supplies…the very supplies they had left in Thomin and Ira’s home. Grinning like a self-satisfied child, the fox wagged its tail and waited for him to say something.

“This is too much,” Raeln thought aloud, marching out of the river. As soon as he reached the shore, the fox backed away nervously, averting her eyes. “Any one of those packs is heavier than you are. How the hells could you bring three and almost beat us out here? What are you?”

The fox slunk out of reach and sat down, giving him a grin he would have called cheesy on a humanoid. On an animal, it was eerie.

“We’re going to have a long talk with Estin about you,” Raeln growled, picking up one of the backpacks. Through the edge of the flap, he could see metal cans, a bedroll, and more clothing. “I’m done pretending you’re just an animal. Whatever you are, we figure that out tonight.”

The fox got up and walked over to stand in front of Raeln, carefully keeping her eyes above his waist as he stood there, dripping. She glanced at the other two backpacks and then said in a clear voice, “Very well, Raeln. You and I will stop pretending. Don’t expect me to carry those packs again. As you were so observant to notice, they are heavy for me. Be thankful that the Turessians weren’t looking for me, so that I had time to collect what you all left behind. That was careless and could have gotten us all killed in time.”

Raeln took a step back from the fox, the chill from the water in his fur dwarfed by the shiver at having the animal speak. He tried to call for help, but words would not come. His voice came out as little more than a gasp.

“And put on your pants. No one here wants to see that,” the fox added before turning and walking away, swishing her white-tipped tail as she disappeared into the woods. “If you tell on me, I’ll be sure to let Yoska know that you parade around in nothing but your fur for the woodland animals. Think how long he will be able to find humor in that.”

“Something Found”

The cast-offs will be my true heirs. Not for power, not for wisdom, but for their suffering without merit. They will be the ones who understand what we have come from and why we must not be like those before us. They endure what we did, and unlike the others, they have not forgotten those pains.

We were slaves to the ignorant, to those who viewed us as the savages. We fought to free ourselves against greater odds and we won in time. It was that struggle that made us who we were, a humble people trying to help our neighboring nations against similar injustice. We were once the animals, the whipped, and the chained. It was that origin that those like my brother most fear returning to and are willing to inflict on others to avoid.

Those we discard as people will rise up through a few exceptional individuals. We place our hope on them, and it is from this fate that the man of black and white will come. It is through our own choices that we create our fate. All of them will make many sacrifices, but if they survive, it will be worth it all.

A prophecy is only as good as the drive to crush it. We will cause much pain to create those who will save us from even greater.

-
         
Excerpt from the lost prophecies of Turess

Departing from Pholithia and Urishaan itself proved almost trivial, surprising Estin. He had expected the Turessians to return within hours, but they never showed themselves again as the group traveled the old roads through the woods ever northward. The paths were overgrown and abandoned, making them ideal for their purposes. Anyone with a wagon or other carriage would find the woodland trails nearly unusable. Even a week later, they Estin had seen no hint of pursuit.

After their escape, Raeln had become unusually quiet, even for him. At first Estin had thought it was a reaction to his shoulder wound, which Estin had hurried to mend once he knew about it. That seemed to change little, though. The man openly avoided the fox that had managed to make her way back to them, which struck Estin as bizarre. When Estin had asked about it, Raeln had given the fox a nervous look and then walked away without explaining.

Estin rolled over on the hard dirt, trying to find a position where he could get comfortable and possibly sleep another hour or two before the sun rose. The others had taken to a rotating watch during the night to allow them all to sleep in the dark, in hopes that any pursuers would have more difficulty finding them without the light. That had proven disastrous to Estin’s ability to sleep—from what he knew of himself, he was either a night-person or his breed was, making it difficult to sleep more than passingly at night.

The fox came snuffling up alongside Estin as he adjusted again, checking on him to be sure he was all right. She was a sweet animal, constantly worried about him, but he hardly needed a cold nose poking him in the face when sleep was already elusive. Grumpily, he pushed the animal away and settled onto his tail, using it as a pillow.

For a while Estin remained awake, though so tired he could not fathom why he was not asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. Then, gradually, sleep came over him and he drifted off, the cold and the hard ground fading away.

Faces came to him as soon as his mind relaxed. He saw Feanne as she had looked the day they said their life-mating vows. She was stunning but nervous. It was one of the few times he had ever seen her truly shaken by anything other than fear for the lives of him or their children. She had faced armies without hesitation, but confessing her love of a male of a different breed in public had been almost more than she could manage. They had gone through so much to get to that simple statement of love.

Feanne faded into the background and other faces moved to the forefront. These were his and Feanne’s children, though Estin knew two of them could have been another man’s. They were his children as far as he was concerned, despite all of them looking more like their mother than him. Oria, the older female, a strong-willed creature like her mother. Atall, the older male, an incredibly powerful wizard despite the lack of real training. Alyana, the mischievous little female who tormented her bothers. Rinam, somewhat of a coward, but more than willing to back up Alyana in anything she tried to do. Theldis, named for Estin’s own father, with his slightly orange eyes and calm acceptance of whatever came.

Estin smiled at the memories of his family, but dread began to sneak in with the thoughts. He could feel something horrible coming and knew there was nothing he could do to prevent it. As was the way of dreams, his waking mind knew what pain accompanied the memories, but the dream was slower to remind him.

The first change in the dreams came when a robed man stepped between Estin and his family. Estin was powerless to approach, the dream holding him back as the man grabbed Atall. With an amused laugh, the man drove his fist into Atall’s chest the same way the Turessian had to Thomin so recently, shattering bone and spraying blood in all directions. Through it all and until he fell limply, Atall stared pleadingly at Estin.

Then the Turessian and Atall were gone. They were both lost to Estin. His son was dead and his body destroyed before Estin could have saved him and the Turessian—an insane man named Arturis—had died at Estin’s hand. There was nothing he could do to or for either of them anymore. His revenge was over and it left him empty. Revenge would not give him direction anymore.

The other children tried to run to Estin and Feanne, but brightly glowing clouds of mist rolled between them and their parents. Estin screamed for his children and could hear Feanne doing the same, but with the cloud between them, there was nothing he could do. Helplessly, he watched as Oria hugged the younger kits to her and the mists closed around them. The last thing he heard were Oria’s screams as the mists washed over them.

Estin knew what was coming next. His subconscious mind dreaded the next part of the dream, knowing it was all too final. The only member of his family who still lived was about to die. He had watched it each night in his mind, but it had grown no easier to bear. Instead of facing it, he clawed at the boundary of his sleeping mind, trying to wake himself, even as his actions in the dream went on.

Turning to reach for Feanne, Estin felt all the motivation drain from him as he saw she was already holding her side. She shook her head sadly and pulled her hand away, revealing the large open wound that poured her lifeblood out.

“I am sorry,” she whispered, stumbling as she grew weak. “No regrets, my love.”

Estin screamed in the dream as Feanne collapsed and he found himself sitting upright and awake. His heart was racing and his limbs trembled with the painful memories. Pulling his knees up to bury his face against them and wrapping his tail around himself protectively, Estin sobbed softly, trying to let it pass before the others woke. To him this was a weakness he had no desire to share with anyone else. They all had seen enough death that those he had endured were his problem and not theirs.

As Estin tried to contain his grief, he realized he felt something else. Deep within himself, he could feel the anger, the rage, and the power that came with the strange magical gift On’esquin had given him. That…creature…within himself longed to come forward, to destroy his enemies and punish those who had hurt him and his family. Such a desire was alien to Estin, making it easy to recognize, though not as easy to push back down.

In an attempt to escape the desire to kill, Estin looked around the camp, hoping someone was awake to talk with. He could see Yoska and Raeln curled up and softly snoring, though Raeln shook and twitched in the throes of his own nightmares. On’esquin was nowhere to be found, as Estin had expected, given that the man was on watch.

Estin lowered his eyes and saw the fox was sitting attentively, watching him with concern. When he met her eyes, the fox cocked her head and then gave a pointed look at the bag with Feanne’s remains and then back to Estin.

“Yes, I was dreaming about her,” he admitted, having long-since stopped feeling foolish talking to the animal. He had taken to doing so only when Raeln was asleep, as he always looked nervous when Estin did so.

A crack of a branch put Estin instantly on guard, but On’esquin emerged from the woods nearby, his spear slung over his back. The man lumbered in and sat down across from Estin, giving the fox a curious look, and then returned his attention to Estin.

“We were followed,” the orc said softly, picking at burrs that were caught all over his robes. His armor seemed to be too thick for the prickly things to attach, but where it did not cover, he had hundreds of the small sharp bits. “I found thirty zombies. They’re trying to flush us out.”

Estin reached for his pack, thinking they would be on their feet and running, but On’esquin shook his head and made no move to get up.

“They’re crippled and broken. Someone found them before I did. That person did a truly fine job of trapping them indefinitely. I doubt they’ll work their way free in less than a day,” he explained. “Half the forest seemed to have been roused to attack.”

Estin relaxed somewhat, idly petting the fox that had squirmed under his arm to watch On’esquin. The animal was usually not so eager to be close to any of the men besides Estin, but she seemed really interested for once and thus willing to brave being near the orc.

“Who else could be out there?” asked Estin. “I’ve seen no tracks and we’ve kept a good watch. How could someone slip in and fight off a group of undead and disappear before we notice?”

“You would have to ask her,” On’esquin replied, leaning forward to try to scratch the fox’s ears, but the animal backed away, hid behind Estin, and peeked over his shoulder.

“The fox?”

“The woman who attacked the undead,” the orc corrected, grinning. “I doubt a fox that size would be much of a threat. I found tracks, and from what I could tell, it was a barefoot woman. Human, most likely, judging by size. She might not be our ally, but she has no love of our enemies.”

Slowly, the fox inched back out from behind Estin, sat down at his side, and watched On’esquin cautiously.

“Then what do we do about it?” Estin asked a moment later.

On’esquin did not take his eyes off the fox. “Nothing at all. We have a hundred miles to cover if we hope to put an end to the invasions from the north. Having someone watching out for us will be incredibly valuable, especially if our enemies don’t know she is helping us. I would gladly keep her hidden as long as I can. Given the chance to tell her, I would pledge on my honor that she will remain our secret as long as it is wise.”

The sky overhead had begun to lighten faintly. Estin knew that meant they only had another hour before everyone was awake and the hike began again. Deep down, he wanted to get more sleep, but the odds of that were slim.

“Where are we really going?” Estin asked at length, getting a wry grin from On’esquin in reply and drawing the man’s attention away from the fox. “I may not know the area, but I’ve watched over your shoulder when you and Yoska study the maps. If we were going straight to Turessi, we’d be heading northeast of here and shaving a week or two off the trip. You’ve continued taking us northwest. Avoiding pursuit is one thing, but avoiding most of a nation is quite another.”

“Clever boy,” said On’esquin, chuckling. “Even the gypsy thinks we’re merely wandering a little to avoid detection. The other one could be led southward and he would not notice for days. He follows blindly. I’m glad that one of you is wise enough to question my decisions directly. In your place I would not follow someone I hardly know halfway across the known world without asking a lot of questions.”

At that point Yoska coughed and rolled over in this sleep, hugging his pack tightly. The man mumbled something at the backpack before settling back to sleep.

“That man believes he is more subtle than he is,” noted On’esquin, lowering his voice. “If he wishes to listen in, he could simply come over.”

“It lets him claim ignorance later. He’s always done that…haven’t you, Yoska?” Estin called out.

Between snores, Yoska muttered something and raised a hand to give him a rude gesture.

On’esquin watched Yoska for a bit before turning back to Estin. “We are certainly deviating from our best route,” he admitted, laying out the map he always carried with him. It had developed fresh tears and stains of late but was still generally readable, other than where he or Yoska had ripped out sections that were either vastly changed since the map was made or were buried under mists. He removed his cracked old glove and pressed a green finger to a spot at the edge of the mountains. “We are here. The roads east of here are the most direct route, but I expect Dorralt has far more troops there watching for us. The path we take along here”—On’esquin traced his finger across a section of the foothills—“will allow us to rest and gather allies in the one place that I doubt Dorralt has any desire to go.”