The Northern Approach (60 page)

“Is there anything I can do?” Raeln asked, once he was sure there were no Turessians about to attack them from the shadows.

“No,” replied Yoska, picking at the hole in his shirt. “You already do it by coming along and tempering my moods. Is a rough life being alone, yes? Almost enough to drive a man to drink. Oh wait…is definitely enough. I am going back inside. I have good drink in there. You are welcome to join. You have as much excuse as I do.”

“I never drink,” Raeln admitted, following Yoska as he made his way to the inn door. “It clouds the head and slows reactions.”

“You need to get better at drinking if that is the case,” Yoska noted, chuckling. “My reactions are plenty quick, though clouded thinking has led to many good days in my memories.”

“I’ll pass.”

Raeln stopped at the door of the inn, hesitating as he felt eyes on his back. Turning, he scanned the street and saw several robed figures slip into the shadows. He waited there for as long as he felt comfortable doing so before finally going back inside and closing the door. Turessians never ran and never seemed willing to hide, but the idea that they were being watched was still disturbing.

He would be happy to be out of the city again. At least outside he could see the enemy coming. Even if they were heading into the heart of danger, he wanted to see it well in advance so he could face it head on.

*

Having been unable to sleep further after seeing the robed people outside, Raeln sat in the front room of the inn well past dawn, meditating as he faced the door. At his side the human man that had been so adamant in trying to draw his attention lay sleeping with his head propped against Raeln’s thigh, something Raeln had given up on objecting to. Dalania had been right: hiding behind fear and feigned disgust was pointless, even if he had no interest. If this man could be open about who he was, Raeln certainly could, too.

The inn had been quiet for hours, its business obviously suited more toward later in the day, leaving the mornings for sleep. Raeln wanted to wake the others, to get them moving, but he knew his own nervousness should not be pushed onto them as well. Without a solid reason to think they were in any more danger than usual, he would wait for them to wake in their own time. Hurrying them along would only leave them all waiting for Estin exhausted, which did nothing to help them if they were attacked.

So, with nothing better to do and his anxieties about threats keeping him awake, he had struggled with his meditation. He was partially successful, managing to relax his body if not his mind. In that state he was acutely aware of every sound, both inside and outside the building, so when On’esquin got up and came to the main room, Raeln heard him coming long before the orc spoke.

“Did the gypsy complete his work last night?” On’esquin asked, sitting down in one of the room’s chairs. The padded seat creaked under his weight but held him.

“He did,” replied Raeln, without opening his eyes. “We are to pick up new horses on our way out of town. A fresh wagon waits with the horses. Yoska’s friend dropped off winter clothing for us outside the door. I heard him sneak up about an hour ago.”

On’esquin grunted in acknowledgement, and Raeln heard him tightening the straps on his armor. Soon, the orc said, “I have seen no indication of the Turessians here. I think that bothers me more than the places where they made their control more obvious.”

“They are definitely in charge. Dalania tracked down the local resistance. It seems the Turessian who rules this city has attempted to do so through politics rather than force. It’s a change from their usual tactics.”

“Not at all, Raeln. This fits Dorralt’s usual pattern. He sends his more radical generals to the regions least likely to bow. In the last war, he gave control over a region to whichever general conquered it. They were to rule it however they saw fit. Given that war against this city would have taken years, he was probably wise in choosing to conquer it with words rather than swords. The greater fear is that in time, another Turessian will seek to take it from this one and any deals these people made to survive may be unwritten.”

They remained quiet a while, until On’esquin lowered his voice and asked, “How extensive was your training, Raeln? I have seen you fight, and it reminds me of a particular form of education that was used in my time. Where we are going, I need to be sure you are ready.”

“I trained under every swordsman, archer, spearfighter, and brawler that my father could find to teach me,” Raeln said, still keeping his eyes closed. “They focused on teaching me to fight with a wizard, given my sister’s intention of becoming one.”

“Did they teach you to fight one?”

“Yes. That’s about the only reason I survived the fight with that Turessian back in Pholithia. Stay ahead of them, disrupting arm movements whenever possible. Aim for the throat if given a chance.”

“Raeln, I have seen the Turessians miss you with spells at close range twice.”

“I’m fast, On’esquin.”

“No one is that fast,” warned the orc. “They had you. You may not understand magic, but I do. Shy of miscasting a spell, it is nearly impossible to miss. Some people seem more resilient to magic than others, but you avoided the spells entirely. Who taught you that?”

Raeln opened his eyes and thought over the fights in the last few months, trying to remember which battles On’esquin might be referring to. “The only times I can think of, I just got out of the way. A last-moment dive for the ground can—”

“Can do nothing against magic. Magic follows people around corners and hits targets leagues away. The one who taught you to meditate…did this teacher also educate you in combat?”

“He did,” admitted Raeln, not really understanding where this was going. “He taught me to avoid attacks with my mind before my body. Know where your body will be and know for certain that it will not be hit. If you do not believe, you will keep getting hit. He was drunker than Yoska most days, so it’s probably nonsense. Half of his lessons turned into religious rants about dragons.”

Chuckling, On’esquin leaned back in his chair. “Trust that teacher more than the rest. You have talent, Raeln. You and I together could likely face down the best the Turessians can throw at us, if you learn to have more faith in yourself.”

The clomping of an uneven stride made Raeln look back down the hall, where he saw Yoska stumbling toward them, rubbing his temples. Behind him, Dalania trailed after, keeping her distance while following him into the main room. From the look of her, Dalania was barely conscious.

“Fresh horses are waiting at north stable,” Yoska mumbled, sitting down hard enough on the nearest chair that the human beside Raeln woke with a start. The man sleepily got up and wandered off to one of the side rooms.  “Assuming our clothes are waiting outside, we can leave whenever everyone is ready. Wagon will take half hour to prep, once we have horses.”

“He dropped them off an hour ago,” Raeln told Yoska, getting a half-hearted nod in reply.

“Do we have everything, then?” asked On’esquin, looking around at them all as he placed his spear across his lap.

With his eyes still shut and one hand covering his face, Yoska twirled a knife from his belt into the air, caught it, and then slid it smoothly back into his sheath. It was his typical way of saying he was ready, even if he was severely hungover.

“Then there is no reason to delay,” On’esquin said, standing up. “Given that our guide is nearly dead from drinking, I can lead the way for now. This city might have been in its infancy the last time I was here, but I can certainly find the northern gate without a guide.”

“Is good plan,” murmured Yoska, his hand still covering his eyes. “Tell me when drums stop, so I can die in peace.”

Raeln rolled onto his feet and Dalania came over, bleary-eyed but more coherent-looking than Yoska. With everyone else standing, Yoska slowly stood and stumbled after them as Raeln headed for the door.

When he opened the door onto the street just enough to peek out, Raeln was struck by how many people there were, now that the sun was up. The whole city seemed to move, looking as alive and vibrant as Lantonne had been before the war. To think this was likely the first city conquered by Turessi and it appeared so intact and healthy, Raeln could have forgotten the war had even happened, were it not for the memories that kept him from sleeping most nights.

Raeln suddenly noticed there were some people out on the street who were not moving. They stood at the edges of the buildings, watching him even through the barely-open door, as though they had known he would be there. They were all robed and hooded, though their outfits were brown rather than the sleek black robes the Turessians preferred.

“I’ve been seen,” Raeln announced, stepping back into the inn, where he knew he would be out of sight. “I count five robed people, all who knew we were coming.”

Any discomfort Yoska was feeling disappeared instantly. He hopped up alongside the other edge of the door and peeked outside. Reaching out, he grabbed the lip of a large barrel there, dragging it inside as quickly as he could.

“Gunari is not sneakiest man I have ever known,” Yoska said once the barrel was inside. He pushed it toward On’esquin. “Was probably seen dropping that off. We will need to hurry to stable if we are to get out of city with them looking for us.”

On’esquin quickly tore open the barrel and pulled piles of woolen clothing from it, throwing them over his shoulder or into his pack. Raeln saw garments of many different sizes, mostly in black, though a shirt and a few other items were white.

Once he had everything out, Yoska returned his attention to the street. “Fuzzy and green stay along building, where shadows will hide you. Pretty lady and I will walk on street and draw attention, because who cannot look at two lovely people, no? Make way to north gate, I get horses, and we go. Wagon may have to stay behind. Any questions?”

When no one replied, Yoska stepped out onto the street, gesturing for Dalania to follow him. They strode somewhat stiffly but quickly, heading straight up the street as though nothing were the matter.

Raeln watched them go for several more seconds, but the robed people did not budge. They continued to watch the inn.

“We cannot wait forever,” On’esquin warned him. “Even the most obvious trap sometimes must be sprung.”

Leading the way but hugging the edge of the building, Raeln set off. He walked as fast as he could, trying to stay to the shadows, but when he looked back at the street, he immediately saw three of the brown-robed people walking in parallel to them. A second later another joined them.

On’esquin apparently had seen them as well. “Keep going. So long as they do not attack, we do not stop, Raeln.”

They continued along the buildings, sometimes having to use alleys to bypass sections of the city where they could not remain concealed. Twice Raeln caught the eye of the human children running around, who stared at him in awed amazement, having no idea what to make of him, but they did not call out for help. One even kissed a necklace she wore as she stared, though Raeln had no idea the significance of that action. Likely some superstitious prayer for protection, if he had to guess.

The trip through the city took much longer than Raeln would have liked, but given the size of the city, he could not really complain. It took them easily an hour before the northern gates came into sight along the wall. More importantly, the mob standing in front of it came into view.

Appearing from one of the side streets, Yoska and Dalania came running back to them.

“Undead,” Dalania hissed, keeping her voice low as a group of humans passed. “There must be thirty of them. There is one Turessian that I saw. I believe it’s the same one we faced at the village a few weeks back. She’s arguing with the city guards at that gate, but she has the whole area blocked off.”

Raeln glanced over his shoulder and saw the group of robed men and woman had grown to twelve. He could smell humans everywhere, but from those he picked up incense and oils as well as their natural scents…and again animals, as though they had worked in a stable or some other place. That he smelled them at all while not smelling death told him they were still living, even if they were working with Turessi. To him that meant one important thing: he could kill them, if it came to that.