The Northern Approach Page 34

  Estin put a hand to one of his swords and On’esquin immediately took a step back, reaching behind himself to grab the haft of his spear, though he did not unsling it from his shoulder.

  “Are you sure you wish to do this, Estin?”

  “I will not follow you halfway across the world being told at every step that I’ve failed or made a mistake. I’ve given up my family to help you, and I expect some damned gratitude. Call me whatever you want, but do not ever bring my children into it again.”

  On’esquin nodded and tightened his grip on his weapon, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

  Studying him for a moment, Estin had no assumption that he could kill or even seriously hurt On’esquin. The orc was a warrior, tried and true. He had fought in wars centuries before Estin had been born and had lost little of that skill in the time since. Still, Estin was possibly faster and was willing to risk being killed if it meant an end to the infighting. More importantly, Estin realized that dying fighting for his pride might be the ending he deserved after dragging Feanne back from the grave.

  Estin drew first, pulling one of his swords free of its sheath and using it as a shield to cover himself as he drew the second sword. He came up swinging, but On’esquin already had his own weapon out and deftly maneuvered around Estin’s attacks, deflecting each with the haft of the spear at angles that kept the blade from slicing into the wood of the spear.

  The two of them lunged and slashed, their weapons narrowly avoiding connecting solidly with one another. Both soon bled freely from many smaller cuts, where they had been a little too slow to fully block or avoid the other’s weapon. They kept at it, Estin trying to avoid On’esquin’s powerful thrusts and swings, while On’esquin often had to fall back onto defense to keep Estin’s faster strikes at bay, twirling the spear to parry rapidly.

  This was a losing battle and Estin knew it. On’esquin would eventually overpower him, if only through endurance and the fact that he could take a wound and not concern himself overly with blood loss. A single deep cut and Estin would slow and ultimately die.

  Knowing he had little time to truly leave a lasting impression on On’esquin before the man defeated him, Estin feigned losing his balance and stumbled backward. On’esquin immediately took the bait, attempting to use size and strength to knock Estin to the ground using the haft of the spear like a bludgeoning weapon.

  Estin spun as he stumbled, coming around as fast as he could, adding to the momentum of his tail. Like so many others Estin had fought, On’esquin had given the tail no thought until it cracked him alongside the head, startling him. By the time the orc realized what Estin was doing, Estin had come fully around and stepped into On’esquin’s defenses, driving his sword to its hilt through the man’s stomach armor.

  “Stop!” shouted someone else before Estin or On’esquin could react.

  They both looked toward the sound.

  Standing at the edge of the woods was Raeln, with Feanne at his side. Both regarded Estin and On’esquin with disgust, though it was Raeln that had spoken. Feanne shook her head and wandered off to sit by the fire, not looking at either of them further. Meanwhile, Raeln came marching toward them with all the force of a boulder rolling down a mountainside.

  “Give me that!” Raeln growled, yanking On’esquin’s weapon from his hands. Reaching down, he snagged Estin’s, pulling the one sword from On’esquin’s gut with a sickening sound. “You both are better than this.”

  “We…I…” On’esquin started, but trailed off and lowered his eyes as Raeln glared at him.

  Estin thought to say something, but Raeln’s attention turned sharply on him, those eyes far too cold to challenge. He felt the same way he had when Asrahn had scolded him like an overgrown child.

  “Hundreds of miles to go before we face a superior force with thousands of soldiers at their disposal,” said Raeln, throwing their weapons aside. “One of you holds all the answers for how we are to survive that, and the other likely has the ability to make it happen. We need each other, and I will not let your egos get in the way of us having a fighting chance at avenging everyone we’ve lost. The next time either of you decides to take a swing at the other, it will be me you fight. I will not fight to win, but to humiliate. Do we all understand one another?”

  On’esquin regarded Raeln as though he were evaluating his chances. Raeln seemed to recognize that as well as Estin did and grabbed On’esquin’s armor, pulling the burly orc off his feet. Despite On’esquin being nearly as tall as Raeln and easily twice his weight, Raeln lifted him several inches off the ground with trembling arms, despite his wounds from the night before.

  “Do. You. Understand?” Raeln repeated slowly.

  “Understood,” offered On’esquin, grinning broadly. “Thank you for fulfilling your role.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” demanded Raeln, setting On’esquin back on his feet.

  The orc patted the rolled prophecies at his hip, and Raeln rolled his eyes and shoved On’esquin away from himself. Turning away, he went to sit by the fire, near Feanne, who still had yet to so much as look Estin’s way.

  “He’s supposed to lead?” Estin asked softly, unsure what he should do. He was nervous that moving far from where he stood might bring Raeln right back over.

  “Yes,” replied On’esquin, looking equally uncomfortable. The man eyed his weapon, only a few feet away, but seemed unwilling to risk going after it. “Turess said, ‘When the elf finds his fangs, he will guide them.’ Raeln was raised among elves.”

  “I’ve never met an elf who fights like that.”

  “Nor have I,” confessed On’esquin, smiling again. “I think perhaps we should eat breakfast before our leader decides it is time to make an example of us again.”

  Estin nodded and went over to the campfire, where Yoska held out cups of some steaming beverage that smelled like no tea Estin had ever had. He took the cup and began sniffing at it, picking up hints of herbs that he was fairly certain had managed to ferment somehow. Lowering the cup to ask Yoska whether the drink was even safe, he froze as he realized Feanne was watching Raeln with admiration as he settled in beside her.

  Estin tried to look away, to ignore what he was pretty sure Feanne was thinking, but he could not make himself. When she tried to put a hand on Raeln’s knee—though Raeln pushed her hand away quickly—Estin felt abruptly sick. He put aside the cup Yoska had given him and excused himself to spend time alone in the woods, where he could deal with his emotions without being judged by the others…or letting them see him judge himself.

  He got no more than a hundred yards out from the rest of the group before he encountered a steep drop-off, dotted with tall trees that blocked his view. Deciding he was still not far enough away, Estin climbed the nearest tree, getting himself high above the woods, with a clear view of much of the area.

  Estin breathed in the fresh air and clung to the tree, letting his frustrations fade away as he surveyed the mountains to the west, with their high white-topped peaks. Over the course of several minutes, he let his eyes drift over the woods, searching for any hint of pursuit, while enjoying the heights and view. The early morning was beautiful and the crisp breeze tugged at his stress, calming him. It was easy to forget that his mate was eyeing another male when all he had to worry about was spread across the horizon.

  Hanging from the tall tree, Estin closed his eyes and let his anger and sorrow fade away into a mindless sense of near-falling. Time passed as he let the sky ease his burdens, and the birds chittering in the distance was an easy thing to lose himself in. It was so much simpler than his life had become since meeting Feanne and far simpler than things had become of late.

  Estin did not open his eyes again for most of an hour. He looked over the miles of silhouetted peaks and smiled, finding some solace in the beauty of it all. On a whim he surveyed the horizon, turning to see the north and east, amazed at how the war could be ignored from so high above the world.

  Remembering what he had seen
before going to help the others, Estin tried to get a feel for where they were relative to the village, and soon he managed to find the distant road to the east. There the wagons the Turessian had used to cart in all of her undead still waited, likely while the woman searched the woods for them. Fifty miles or so beyond that, a massive cloud of mists waited, lingering over what appeared to have been a village, flickers of lightning within its borders hinting at vast destruction.

  Turning, Estin searched the rest of the horizon and saw more mists. Much of the south and west were dotted with sections of the glowing clouds, limiting any opportunity to go back the way they had come. With a chill he realized one of those clouds lay in the very direction he had been fleeing when he left the group the day before. He would have walked right into it sooner or later.

  Scrambling down the tree, Estin ran back to the camp, doing his best to keep his mind focused on anything but Feanne. As he arrived, everyone reached for weapons, likely thinking his rush was due to being found out by the undead. Failing his original plan, he looked to Feanne as everyone’s eyes fell on him, seeing she was leaning beside Raeln, trying to casually expose her breasts in the loose-fitting clothing she was wearing.

  Digging his claws into his palms, Estin forced himself to avoid watching Feanne’s attempts to woo the other male. Feanne had always been blunt when she wanted something, but this coy behavior was demeaning.

  “On’esquin,” Estin said, panting. “What do your prophecies say about our route?”

  Sitting up and thinking as he held a chunk of rabbit meat in his hand, the orc said as though reading, “Weaker than they must be, those who would help will follow the wilds.”

  “So where is that Turessian going to be looking for us?”

  Raeln spoke up. “All along the foothills heading north. Not that we have any choice. Prophecy or not, the wilds are the only area we can hide in, and they aren’t deep here, unless we go back into the mountains.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Estin told him, kneeling and plucking a twig from the grass nearby. Using it to roughly draw the mountains and their location, he added a winding line to the east. “There’s a road that ‘follows the wilds’ the whole way. I could see wagons and horses waiting. I’m willing to bet that Dorralt and his people will look almost anywhere other than the main roads. They wouldn’t expect On’esquin to walk down a road they control.”

  “For good reason. That would be insane,” On’esquin replied.

  Estin waited for the others to say something, but one by one, they looked to Raeln, who blinked and looked back at them in confusion. Slowly, he seemed to understand, though he did not look entirely happy about it.

  “The road it is,” Raeln told the group, smiling. “It’s reckless and stupid, which is why it might work. We’re all still tending to wounds, so we rest until afternoon and then steal some wagons after sunset. That gives you all about four hours before we start marching.”

  Moving off to sleep by himself, Estin had to almost force himself to stare at the ground to avoid seeing Feanne’s constant watching of Raeln. He would endure as he had so many things before. They had gone through far worse.

  Once the others had settled in to rest, Dalania surprised Estin by coming over to sit beside him. She put her back to a tree, staying well outside his reach, but he could tell she was trying to be sociable and was unsure how to do it. Thinking back to how willing she had been to be in his arms in her fox form, Estin wondered if she was actually as afraid of being alone as she was of being close to others.

  “You haven’t told her,” whispered Dalania, checking over her shoulder for Feanne, but she and Raeln were still sitting quietly by the fire. “She needs to know who she was. Her memories are as much a part of her as her body or spirit. Bring one back and the others might follow.”

  Estin watched Feanne more openly, knowing the shadows of the woods would help conceal his attention. He need not have bothered, as she had eyes only for Raeln, staring at him the way she had once looked at Estin. Looking down at his shabby and mud-spattered clothing, Estin wondered how he had not lost her to someone more like Raeln long before.

  “Promise me you won’t say anything,” he told Dalania, and she stared at him with near-horror. “Promise me.”

  “She needs to know! Do you not want her back…?”

  “More than anything, but telling her that she’s my mate won’t make it true in her mind. She needs to figure things out for herself or it’ll feel like a lie. If she doesn’t love me, I have no one to blame but myself.”

  Dalania’s expression softened into sadness, nodding absently as she looked toward Feanne herself. “Losing you nearly killed her once, Estin,” she warned softly. “Save her however you can.”

  “That’s what I’m doing. No memories means she doesn’t have any reason to care for me. I’ll give it time and do what I can, but ultimately, it’s going to be largely up to her to heal.”

  “I swore to protect her and this isn’t the right way!”

  Estin slid closer to Dalania, forcing her to back away and lower her eyes as she sought to avoid confrontation. Using a claw to lift her chin and make her look at him, he said, “I know my mate better than anyone, even you. Tell me that she wouldn’t resent me telling her how to think and do exactly the opposite to prove she isn’t dependent on anyone. If I tell her she’s my mate, she will go out of her way to prove I’m not.”

  Dalania moved away again and nodded, wincing as she glanced back at Feanne. “I will trust your judgment based on what I know of her,” the fae-kin replied, wringing her hands nervously. “Promise that we won’t hide her life from her for long.”

  “Only as long as we have to, that I promise.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Northlands”

  She hides her pain, even from herself. I can feel it, even through these dreams. Through darkness into light she has come, but the shadow of that darkness keeps her from who she was meant to be.

  What has happened will happen again. I see now that her pain is the same as that of Kharali, but they are far from the same person. Her pain can be cured only by remembrance, but no amount of explanation will give her solace. She must find herself through new pain and the memories that come with it.

  Who is she? I doubt even she knows. I certainly do not.

  - Excerpt from the lost prophecies of Turess

  Feanne’s shin thudded into Raeln’s shoulder hard enough to rock him slightly, but he took the hit patiently. The blow was not nearly enough to hurt him, though he recognized that each time she hit him, her balance and form were improving. More importantly, her speed was increasing, making it difficult to counter her attacks.

  “Again,” he told her.

  Repeating the kicks Raeln had been teaching her almost flawlessly, Feanne continued to beat on Raeln’s left arm, then his right, and back again. Her muscles seemed to be remembering form and balance quickly, allowing her to make tremendous leaps in combat training each day when they stopped. He had trained grown men for months and not seen the improvement she had gone through in mere days. Idly he wondered how capable she had been before dying.

  Stepping out of the way of Feanne’s next kick, throwing her slightly off-balance as she recovered, Raeln punched at her. Feanne reacted immediately, centering her weight to regain control and then striking his wrist to push aside his fist before it could reach her. He attacked again and she easily avoided that attack as well, nimbly backing away as he tried to kick at her. Each time, he saw her muzzle tense to bare her fangs and her fingers curl, ready to strike with her razor-sharp claws.

  Raeln decided it was time to escalate Feanne’s training and see how much she really remembered. She wanted to fight to the death, not for practice, and those instincts needed to be honed before a real threat found them all.

  Pushing his attack, Raeln began a series of punches and kicks that, while not overly complex, he knew were fast enough that most soldiers could not keep up with him. By the end of the
series, he had yet to find a single person that could have avoided being kicked hard in the chest.

  Feanne defended herself with speed and coordination that belied the difficulty she had just walking without tripping a week earlier. She dodged and deflected his attacks one after another, catching Raeln more than once with her claws—something he still was not sure was an accident. In the end though, she miscalculated his speed and he kicked her in the stomach, sending her sprawling onto the ground near a cluster of trees…where Dalania sat, shaking her head sadly.

  “How you consider this to be ‘fun,’ I will never understand,” the fae-kin woman told them, getting up and walking away before Raeln could answer. She headed back toward the large wagon they had stopped along the side of the road, where Yoska and On’esquin were still bickering over the proper way to cook venison.

  “Are you all right?” Raeln asked, offering her a hand up, which she readily took and did not release once she had stood. “That one was more solid than I intended.”

  “Of course. You winded me, is all. You’re strong when you set your mind to it.”

  Raeln started to pull his hand away, but hesitated as he smelled fresh blood. Looking her over, he could see blood on her shirt where his paw’s claws had cut through and dug into her fur and flesh. “You’re bleeding…that’s more than winded.”

  Looking confused, Feanne checked her stomach and lifted her shirt, poking at three cuts that bled slightly at the base of her ribs. Shrugging, she returned her attention to Raeln. “I don’t feel them,” Feanne told him, pulling her hand away. “You’ve yet to hit me hard enough to cause any pain.”

  That made Raeln balk. Their sparring, while well-meaning, often resulted in injuries. Feanne had toughed through them, refusing Estin’s help each time she had endured bruises or cuts.

  “Not once?” In particular Raeln was thinking about their fight two days prior, when she had split open the back of her scalp on a tree and required stitches from Estin. Raeln had hurried to distance himself from Estin after seeing the man’s seething anger and avoided him for more than a day.