The Northern Approach (64 page)

“I am aware and I apologize,” On’esquin replied curtly. “I would not short you any time with your loved ones. I ask that you extend me the same courtesy. We are stopping by a gravesite to speak a few words over a friend’s remains. Nothing more. It will delay us no more than a day, if we keep moving.”

“Does this friend have a name that we might know?”

“He does, but having me say it does not change anything. You suspect and are likely correct. Continue glaring at the back of my head.”

Estin let his horse fall behind again, dropping back with Feanne and Yoska, while Dalania trailed behind them, quiet as always. He could see concern in all of their faces, but no one was speaking about where they were going. They simply followed, likely because Raeln was at On’esquin’s side.

“As I was saying,” Yoska said a moment later to Feanne, “is good to have you back. Estin is good company and Raeln is good warrior, but you were always both and you could give me fine challenge in drinking. I welcome our next epic battle that the bards will sing of for a generation.”

“I never knew you drank with the gypsies,” replied Estin, somewhat surprised. The gypsies had mostly irritated Feanne from what he could recall.

“The pack had leadership issues before you came back, Estin,” she told him, grinning. “I had to fight a great many people to solidify control. The gypsies insisted on a drinking contest. Apparently, I did well, though that is somewhat of a blur.”

Yoska nodded and added, “Quite well. Four of my cousins proposed marriage…well, three men proposed and one woman. Feanne refused, which they took to mean she wished to drink with us again in the future to get better selection of men…or women. This, of course, is before you came back, yes? We were very respectful after. Was gypsy way of helping your love deal with grief, I think.”

“That reminds me,” Feanne noted, turning to Yoska. “I do not remember you saying how you managed to survive the attack on the camp. I have seen the hole in your shirt and the way you favor that side, but as I recall, a Turessian came after you.”

“My daughter, yes. Varra is far better knife-fighter than I am, I must admit. Is something that in hindsight was bad thing to teach that child, no? I recommend you not teach children how to kill you.”

Estin and Feanne waited for him to go on, but he stared at the road ahead, saying nothing. Feanne seemed not to react to the remark about children, which told Estin he was far from off the hook about explaining to her.

“And you survived how?” Estin finally prodded. “A knife up under the ribs usually kills people. I remember Varra, and I doubt she would have walked away if she had any doubts about you being dead.”

“A gypsy got lucky. Is that so hard to believe? Is not story I wish to talk about.”

Feanne eyed him with skepticism and let her eyes fall to his side. She stared at it a moment and told him, “If I wished to rip out your heart, that is precisely where I would strike. Do not ask how I know this. I would assume she intended to put that knife in your heart. You should have at least bled to death.”

“And since when have you not spoken about anything?” added Estin.

Yoska began to look truly uncomfortable and Estin realized he was not watching the road, but On’esquin. After a moment, he slowed his horse to drop back farther from Raeln and On’esquin, while Dalania rode around them to take a spot alongside Raeln at the lead. “Is considered superstition, even to gypsy,” Yoska said quietly. “Outsiders think most things gypsies say about ancestors is superstition, but this is very old one that even we do not believe. I prefer to think my Varra was careless.”

Reaching down to his belt, Yoska held up the simple goblet Estin had brought him years earlier. Varra had died—and become a Turessian in the process—trying to free that old relic from an Altisian museum.

“Bandoleers who carry the cup of their clan are said to be very hard to kill,” he told them, wiggling the cup in the air. “Is silly, no? Cheap metal goblet with lots of sentimental value does not save lives. I thought it a story for children, but then I woke with hole in my side and say, ‘Yoska, you taught girl better than that! She would not miss your heart, no?’”

Estin noticed On’esquin turn to try to see where they were, and as he did, Yoska let the goblet drop back to his hip.

 “Why the secrecy?” Estin asked. “You don’t want On’esquin to know about a story? He might have an idea how you survived, because I couldn’t guess how you’re still breathing. Besides, that cup is part of his stupid prophecy.”

Yoska shook his head. “Magic green man shows up with tattoos of enemy, speaking old gypsy tongue. I hear him often say there are no coincidences. I ask you, Estin, what are odds of you making it out of big stone house in Altis with your own skin, let alone bringing Feanne out with you? I say is odd coincidence you have this cup with you when you do, yes? I wish to figure this out myself and not let green man ramble about how long-dead man expected me to live and wrote about it in strange way. Too many coincidences usually means one of my dear wives is involved.”

Winds picked up to one side of them, making it more difficult to talk. Estin fumbled with his cloak, trying to get it to cover him from the bitter winds, but he could not keep the hood up, given the size of his ears. Feanne seemed to be having much the same problem and soon settled for having the cloak around her and the hood down.

“We are not really hiding anymore, no?” Yoska called out over the winds, offering Estin a knife. “Is better to be comfortable than hidden, when they know we are coming.”

Nodding, Estin cut two slits in the hood, allowing him to pull it up fully and poke his ears out through the slits. His ears would be cold, but overall it was a massive improvement. Bringing his horse as close as he could to Feanne’s, he offered to do the same to her hood.

“Why?” she asked, snow clinging to her fur and the winds whipping her cloak about.

“To stay warmer,” Estin called back, having to raise his voice over the winds.

Feanne looked around in confusion, closing her eyes as she faced into the wind that was already making Estin’s eyes and nose feel half-frozen. “No need,” Feanne answered, shrugging. “I am not cold.”

That sent additional chills down Estin’s spine and tail, thinking perhaps Feanne was still having trouble feeling. It was not a good sign for her recovery.

She seemed to recognize his concern and she reached out to take and squeeze his hand. “I’m fine,” she insisted. Letting the horse move free, she dropped the reins and lifted her sleeve with her free hand. The gashes there that had been slowly healing since she had cut herself were completely closed, despite having still been raw and ugly the night before. “I can hear the nature spirits riding the winds. I may not remember all that I knew before, but I remember enough magic to keep myself warm out here. You do not have to protect me anymore, Estin.”

Estin pressed her hand to his cheek and let her go. It was good to see her gaining her strength again, even if he still felt weak from raising her.

“If storm continues to grow,” Yoska announced, “we will be buried out here when snow starts. This area is not safe for travel when winds are strong and is less safe for cuddling.”

“I thought no one went north of Jnodin?” shouted Estin in reply. The winds were nearly deafening and the horses had slowed. He could barely see On’esquin, Dalania, and Raeln, only twenty feet ahead.

“No one should go north does not mean no one does go north,” the man shouted back. “Was not intending to do it again. Turessians are cheap and grumpy people. I may have lied and said I have not been here before, but is trouble to keep track of my stories.”

They continued on for most of the next hour, unable to converse over the strong winds. Soon, heavy snow came with the wind, cutting Estin’s vision so abruptly he thought they had lost Raeln, On’esquin, and Dalania for a short time. It was not until he had almost run his horse into them that he saw they had stopped to wait for the group to get closer together.

“We’re stopping!” On’esquin bellowed, though Estin largely interpreted the words from the movement of his mouth. The winds had risen to the point of howling, drowning out anything else.

Dropping off his horse and leading it by hand, On’esquin guided the rest of the group at a near crawl to an area where the winds were far less fierce. From what little Estin could see, the nearby rock outcroppings cut the winds, forcing them around the region, leaving small areas relatively still by comparison and mostly free of snow. It was into one of these sheltered area that On’esquin led them, taking them up to an old tree that somehow survived the harsh weather, where he tied off his horse and motioned for the others to do the same.

“Mobodius tree,” explained On’esquin, apparently catching Estin’s surprise at seeing any plant life so far north. “They bloom during warmer days and can survive nearly anything. You will see forests of them as we continue on. It thrives in the harshest weather.”

While Estin and the others settled their horses and fed them, On’esquin and Raeln unfurled a massive sheet of canvas that had been rolled tightly and tied to On’esquin’s pack. Using the stones of the sheltered area, they created a low-hanging tentlike area that the canvas covered, providing some degree of seclusion from the winds. Within that makeshift tent, On’esquin built a small fire pit with stones.

“This is how we lived, once Turess led us to the north,” the orc explained to no one in particular, once everyone had come into the tent and he had a small blaze flickering in the pit. He nursed it until the flames actually put off a fair amount of heat. “We were even more ignorant of how to survive in these lands than any of you might be. Thousands died, but Turess never gave up ground once he moved into a region. Sadly, we never managed to leave.”

Estin and Feanne came over to the fire and sat down, but before he could put an arm around her, Dalania came over and drew Feanne’s attention.

“You really have come back,” the fae-kin woman said, looking into Feanne’s eyes. “Yoska said that you were…that you were you again…but I did not believe him. I can see it now. You remember.” The two women embraced a long time, with Dalania whispering, “It’s good to have you back, pack-leader.”

Soon Raeln and Yoska came into the tent, both shivering and shaking off melting snow.

“It’s getting worse, very quickly,” warned Raeln as he sat down near the fire. Yoska joined him, offering up a flask that he passed over to On’esquin first. “The horses should be fine. I’ve got them all covered and they’re in a good spot. What worries me is I smell something out there, but can’t place it.”

“Animals,” Feanne replied, when she and Dalania finally finished hugging. She put a hand on Estin’s leg, subtly letting him know she had not failed to miss his disappointment at others drawing her attention away. “We were followed by several, though I do not know what they are. The scent is foreign to me.”

“Can you name a type of animal?” asked On’esquin.

“Dogs of some sort. Not quite wolves.”

On’esquin chucked and nodded. “Dire wolves. We’re coming into their southern patrol range. So long as we don’t come near the middle of their hunting grounds, they will only investigate us. I doubt they sent more than six or seven.”

“Are they a threat?” Raeln asked.

“Oh, yes, very much so,” replied On’esquin, moving his spear a little closer. “They travel in packs of three to five to hunt, but the whole pack might be a dozen or more. A single dire wolf is more than a match for any of us. Thankfully they dislike most humanoids and will wander off, once they are sure we aren’t hunting them.”

“If we were?” Raeln insisted.

On’esquin eyed him amusedly. “They aren’t stupid animals. They learn from our tactics and often spring traps of hunters on purpose to lure the hunter out. We will not be hunting any wolves north of Jnodin. They would hunt us, if we tried.”

That seemed to mollify Raeln and he relaxed somewhat, taking the offered flask that On’esquin had not touched. He took sniffed at it and gave Yoska a horrified look before handing it to Estin without drinking any.

Moving the flask near his nose, Estin immediately understood Raeln’s reaction. “Is this pure alcohol?” he asked, taking a tiny sip and passing the flask on. “Why would you drink that? I thought having actual flavor mattered. The Altisians said drinks like that make people go blind.”