The Northern Approach Read online

  Raeln looked down at the silver bracelet and slid his shirt down to cover it.

  “You tried taking it off yet?” Thomin asked, grinning. “Of course you have. Damn thing upset the researchers something fierce. They wanted it gone in a hurry and said nothing when I stole it. Had no idea the undead would want it a few months later.”

  “How do I get it off?” Raeln demanded, tugging at the clasp for emphasis.

  “You need an enchanter. Took ours weeks to unravel enough of the magic on that thing to pry it off our head of staff. Don’t bother looking around…Turessians took all the enchanters weeks ago. The more magic we threw at it, the tougher it was to remove.”

  On’esquin refused to let Thomin change directions at all. “I need to know every piece they wanted. I can guess, but that is counterproductive. Those books would be handy too.”

  “It was a pretty long list they asked about, but only a few that fit anything we’d seen. I can probably get the original demand letter from a colleague in the morning. The books they’re looking for are on the shelf over there,” Thomin explained, pointing to the top of one of the bookshelves.

  “Please do get the list. We will need that information,” On’esquin replied, standing up and straining to see the top of the shelf. Reaching up and feeling around, he pulled down two dust-covered old books Raeln thought looked like they had been thrown in the mud, driven over by carts, and maybe even kicked a few times.

  “What else?” Yoska asked, apparently not having covered that in their previous conversation. “I always could tell when you omitted things, Thomin. Is a tell in the way you rub at your chin.”

  “For starters, three of your companions are on the list,” replied Thomin, nodding toward On’esquin. “The guards are to let any wildlings or orcs into the city and never let them back out. Any orc or wildling with those tattoos…they want them tracked and confined. You were being followed, which was why we thought you were coming for us. Our man distracted the undead to make sure they didn’t follow you here.”

  On’esquin looked back down at the book he held, appearing anything but concerned. “It was expected, though I thought it would take longer for them to secure the cities they wanted to hold. I believed I had a year or two before they had this level of control over the populace of major cities,” the orc admitted. Turning a page, he added, “These are children’s books with old stories. Some appear to be based on actual events long past.”

  Nodding, Thomin said, “I don’t know what the four of you are doing, but Ira has a better head on her shoulders than I do. She thinks that the Turessians are scared of something and your little group fits the description perfectly. Anything that scares them is an ally in our opinions. Even if you aren’t the reason they made those declarations, I’m willing to put some hope in it.”

  Yoska raised a hand to announce something grandly, but as he opened his mouth, On’esquin quickly spoke. “We are not the ones they are looking for, of that I’m certain. No need to worry. We will gladly accept any help you offer and aid you as we are able, and then depart before anyone is aware of your involvement.”

  Raeln could see Yoska was crestfallen, having hoped to proudly proclaim they were following the ridiculous prophecy. If he had to guess, Yoska had been about to announce himself as some sort of savior. Still, the man let On’esquin have his way and did not argue.

  “The well-educated Turessian orc says it’s just random happenstance that you all fit the descriptions,” Thomin said to Yoska, smirking all the while. “You say I lie poorly.” Thomin then seemed to notice the book On’esquin had set aside to read the old Turessian ones and his humor faded. “That is my book of spells,” the human noted, frowning. “As with the coins, it is yours…”

  On’esquin shook his head and picked up the book. “You may have it back. It has been many years since I used magic and it was nice to see how things have changed in the schools. Your teachers would be proud of the skills at your disposal and the potential you show if you have mastered these. You will be a skilled spellcaster after you are finished with your training.”

  Taking the book, Thomin appeared genuinely hurt as he held it, finally saying softly, “I won awards from the king and prince for my skills. I was begged to become a teacher for the prince at one time. I’ve been done with training for almost two decades. It has been a few years…”

  “Oh, I am sorry for my rudeness,” On’esquin quickly corrected, looking scandalized. “As I said, times have changed, as have many aspects of magic. My apologies. Nothing I said was meant to insult.”

  “No, you’re fine,” the man replied, though he looked only slightly mollified in Raeln’s opinion. “Whatever I learned is meaningless the last few months. Half my spells either don’t work or don’t work the way they used to. If I weren’t in hiding, I’d have sought help a long time ago. Now, I wouldn’t know who to go to. I’m as likely to hurt myself as I am to get the spells right, and I don’t know why.”

  “That I can help you with. Where I cannot help, I can tell you why it is happening,” replied On’esquin, patting Thomin’s knee as if he were a child rather than an accomplished wizard. Raeln found the gesture incredibly emasculating and thought of the military teachers who had treated him similarly, right up until he could beat them in a fight. “If you would be so kind as to see to my friends’ needs, we can spend some time this evening going over your concerns. There are methods to work around many of the ways magic has been twisted in the last few months.”

  At that point Raeln heard a click behind him and saw Yoska look past him and stifle a snicker. Looking back, Raeln saw Estin marching into the room wearing only his pants, each step on the wood floor making a soggy splash. From the top of his ears to his toes and the full length of his tail, Estin was drenched to the bone, his fur lying flat and leaving a trail of water behind him. He held an equally drenched towel in one hand and a brush in the other.

  “Not a word,” Estin groused as he sat down on the floor with a wet squish. He began brushing at his fur, glowering the whole time. “I feel like I’ve had a lake dumped on me.”

  “That’s not entirely wrong,” admitted Thomin. “The water system here is fed by a portal the wizards maintain at the bottom of a lake up in the mountains. When you pull that chain, you’re letting the lake fall on you in a sense. We occasionally get small fish that come through, which tends to really scare travelers. With the wizards gone, the water is completely uncontrolled and falls a lot faster than it used to.”

  Geraine brought Estin a few more towels, which Estin grabbed and spread out around himself, trying to keep from flooding the floor. About all he managed to do was keep the water from spreading, and he soon gave up and went back to brushing the knots out of his arm fur.

  “Settle in and make yourselves at home,” Thomin told the group, clapping as he stood up. “You must be exhausted after traveling from…”

  “From nowhere that matters,” Yoska replied smoothly, grinning.

  “Regardless, most of you look like you’ll fall asleep if I stop talking. You know where everything is, Yoska. Please show the others. I’ll set out some clothing that should fit you, along with some clean cloth for that wound. Weapons have been moved to the coat cupboard since you were here last, but everything else is where it has always been. The only rooms are Geraine’s and mine, so I am afraid you will have to share this room. The cupboard with the weapons has spare blankets, cloaks, and other items that you are free to take.”

  “What style of weapons do you have available?” asked On’esquin as he picked up the other Turessian book and eyed its binding skeptically. “I have grown tired of the unsophisticated weaponry of the lands I have visited and would hope that you had access to a rhikath. I found mention in one of the books on similar weaponry here, so I had hope.”

  Thomin’s brows went down and he looked truly confused. “I have never heard of such a weapon,” he admitted, looking to Yoska for some clue. “Is that orcish?”

  “No,
is badly spoken old gypsy tongue,” said Yoska, grinning. “The green man thinks he knows how to speak ancient gypsy, but he needs more lessons, no? He means a rhikash.”

  “I know how to speak the word for the weapon I learned to fight with,” On’esquin replied, sounding a little annoyed. “A rhikath is a spear with a wide blade on one end and a metal cap on the other to balance it.”

  Yoska laughed and shook his head. “Is a rhikash. Six-foot spear with blades and metal end. Rikash is gypsy for ‘wagon spear.’ Many clans put these on sides of their wagons as defensive weapon if wagons are attacked.”

  “A rhikath is a weapon created by the Rhik clan of Turessi, Yoska. I know my weapon. It was my mainstay until I had finished training in magic.”

  “Stop, both of you,” Thomin interjected, holding up his hands. “Ira has an old gypsy spear that some fool gave her as a wedding gift, telling her to use it on me if I didn’t meet expectations. If she will part with it, it is yours. I don’t honestly care what lands it came from or how to pronounce its name.”

  Yoska silently mouthed “rhikash” at On’esquin while Thomin’s back was turned, amusing Raeln, if not the orc. Estin simply shook his head as he continued picking at his clumped fur.

  “If there is nothing else?” Thomin asked the group, clearly wanting to be gone. When no one said anything quickly, he bowed deeply before Yoska and the excused himself to join Ira in the next room.

  Geraine remained behind only a minute as he brought in an armload of blankets and pillows for them, as well as fresh clothing for Yoska and a pile of mismatched pieces that might fit Raeln or the others. He made one more offer to help how he could. When no one took him up on it—and Estin glared at him again—the man went through the other door and down a hall toward what Raeln guessed was a guest room he occupied.

  Once the last sounds of others had faded and Estin seemed entirely engrossed in grooming, Raeln moved closer to Yoska and asked, “Can we trust him after what he did earlier?”

  “Oh, yes,” Yoska insisted. “Ira will have seen to it. She may speak ill of me, but she is loyal. I would not expect anything less from anyone we raised.”

  “How far will that loyalty stretch?”

  Yoska shrugged. “I am her bandoleer. Is not like your kings and other silly titles, but it bears a certain familial respect among our people. She might stab me herself, but she will not betray me. Ira will put her life on the line to save me, even if she intends to kill me when all is done.”

  Not satisfied but willing to accept that for the moment, Raeln grabbed a blanket and pillow off the pile that had been brought out. Taking his bedding to the area directly in front of the entry door, he curled and tried to make his mind relax. Minutes passed slowly as he stared at the floor, until well after Yoska had extinguished the last light and both him and On’esquin slept quietly. Estin soon joined them in slumber, curling up into a tight ball with his tail over his face and the fox near his feet.

  Raeln waited for sleep to come, but soon enough, he was flat on his back, staring at the ceiling with his mind racing over events of the last few months. He had to spend so much time avoiding one thought or another that he felt more exhausted the longer he tried to sleep. The sounds of Yoska and Estin’s soft snores only made matters worse, reminding him that others who had seen just as much were able to find rest when they needed it.

  “You should calm yourself the way you used to,” said On’esquin, though when Raeln looked his way, the orc still had his eyes closed. “Your mind creates as much noise as the entire city block around us. I was drawn to you because of the peace inside your head, but that has been gone a long time now. The gypsy is scarcely a replacement.”

  Sitting up, Raeln watched the burly man for a little while, though On’esquin appeared to be asleep for all the movement he made. Unlike most people, On’esquin seemed to be entirely immune to the discomfort that came from being watched.

  “Why am I here?” Raeln asked, nodding at the others, more out of habit than out of belief that On’esquin was watching. “Aside from having this chain on my wrist, what possible reason do you have for bringing me?”

  “You cannot go home, if that’s what you were thinking of saying next,” the orc replied, letting out a rumbling chuckle. “Your home is as far gone as mine now. We are the last of something that no one else concerns themselves with. Trust that you have a place here, Raeln. I did not bring you out of some sense of pity or desire for company. You have your part to play, though that time has not come yet. Until then you will do what you always wanted to…you will protect others.”

  “These two? They should be protecting me.”

  “For now, perhaps. They have their own duties to the prophecy, though they are not ready, either. Once you find your calm again, we will see what you must do next. That is your first task for us. I have seen the way you emptied your mind in the battle for Lantonne. Find that peace again.”

  “That was before—”

  “Before your lover died, yes, I was there,” On’esquin cut in. “Pitying yourself is unbecoming, Raeln. All five of us have lost people the same way you have. It is up to each to find a way to cope.”

  “Four of us. I refuse to count the fox.”

  On’esquin looked over toward Estin and the fox and smiled. “Even she suffers from loss and chooses to be with him, rather than out in the wilds where she belongs, Raeln. You have said yourself that no fox would willingly join our party.”

  Raeln watched the fox as it slept, kicking its legs every few seconds as it chased something in its dreams. The small animal growled and let out faint yips in its sleep. He could not help but smile and shake his head.

  “Who have you lost, Turessian?” he asked at length. “Enough evading our questions. Give me this one without mentioning a prophecy. Give me something true.”

  On’esquin’s smile faded immediately. Slowly, he sat up and unbuckled his armor and set it aside, smoothing his black robes once the weighty armor was lying in an even pile. Then, sliding his left shoulder out of the robe, he exposed the whole left half of his chest, showing a long black scar on his green skin, directly over his heart. To Raeln, it appeared he had somehow been cut open intentionally and yet lived to bear the scars.

  “I was executed as part of a ritual that was done to create the first of the creatures you have fought,” he explained, covering himself again. “Dorralt expected me to either rise as the first of their kind or remain dead as a failed experiment. Either way, he could claim victory over Turess’s wishes. When I rose but had none of the powers he had anticipated, he tried to have me killed permanently, lest I warn Turess of his actions. I chose to flee rather than face my enemy.”

  “You lived through your own death. That is not loss.”

  “No,” On’esquin replied, sounding as though he was having trouble keeping his voice steady. “I ran. I was a coward. By the time I returned, ready to face my enemies, they had found my family. My wife and my three children were executed as traitors to Turess, without the man’s knowledge. I came back to our clan’s hold to find their heads on spears outside the road leading toward our lands. Our servants told me of the days they had suffered, made to scream for me while chained in the wilderness, in hopes that I would hear and come back to face Dorralt.”

  Raeln stared at the man in a new light, not having given his past much thought. He seemed so entirely relaxed with who and what he was that Raeln had never thought of what had made him that way. The supposed prophecies had mentioned all of them were bound by loss…that phrase made so much more sense now.

  “How did you not go after them? Kill them? I’ve lost family and I want to hunt down and butcher every person from Turessi. I even look at you sometimes and wonder if you are somehow to blame. I can’t imagine how you can be this calm about revenge.”

  “You think I didn’t kill?” On’esquin asked, grinning wryly. “I hardly understood what they had turned me into, but I went after them with all the strength I had left in me. Dozen
s died…many simply because they were in the way. Now, I look back on those servants and realize the monster I had become to kill them without reason. I never got close to Dorralt, and he used my rampage as an excuse for turning the people against me and my kind. To this day the histories refer to me as the ‘betrayer’ or ‘traitor.’

  “He hated your people for another reason, Raeln, but mine were cast out because of me. I bear the burden of knowing that the deaths of my family, as well as hundreds or thousands more over the years, lies on my shoulders. Every orc slain to appease Dorralt, even indirectly, is my fault for not letting him kill me. Had I not had a few thousand years to seek my own calm beneath the sands, I doubt I would be very civil.”

  “I’m sorry,” was all Raeln could manage.

  “Don’t be. This is all part of why we are who we are now. This is why I will not allow myself to kill anything that has not been created by Dorralt or his kin. My choices are my own to bear, not yours. Do not attempt to take on my burden or those of our companions, or you will destroy yourself slowly. It will consume and crush you, Raeln. You have enough to face up to without trying to help us with our own losses. The pain you bear should be limited to that which you had a part in. Trust me when I say that anyone else’s burden must be left to them.”

  Snorting, Raeln closed his eyes and tried to at least look like he was attempting to meditate. He knew from experience it would not happen, his muscles rapidly becoming twitchy and demanding he pace or fight something. Still, he did not want to give On’esquin more to lecture him on, so he kept his eyes clamped shut and legs crossed under him, trying to find some small calm within himself to use to weather the long night.