The Northern Approach Page 36

  Estin smiled to himself as he stared at the mostly healed wounds. Then without warning, he fell sideways, his eyes rolling back as he blacked out and tumbled over the edge of the wagon.

  With Raeln having moved out of Estin’s way, he was too far away to catch him, but Feanne was not. She lunged forward, nearly throwing herself off the wagon as she reached for Estin and caught his arm. Hurrying to help her, Raeln leaned over the side of the wagon and grabbed Estin as Feanne’s grip gave out, since she had grabbed him with her wounded arm.

  Grunting, Raeln leaned back and slowly pulled Estin onto the wagon. The man was breathing and appeared to be awake, but did not even try to help Raeln get him back to safety. Even Feanne watched him with nervousness.

  “Estin?” Raeln asked, patting the man’s face to try to rouse him. “Can you hear me?”

  Estin slowly came around, blinking and looking around in confusion until he saw Feanne. Then he seemed to snap back to awareness. “I’m sorry,” said Estin, sitting up and putting a hand to his head as though he were still dizzy. “I’m still pretty weak from…I need time to recover fully.”

  Feanne frowned and gave Raeln a look that made him wonder if she might throw Estin back off the wagon. To his surprise she instead slid over to Estin and nuzzled his cheek with hers briefly before sitting back.

  “What was that for?” asked Estin, his eyes wide.

  Smiling in that malicious way only a fox could, Feanne answered, “You hurt yourself to help me. Again. I may not understand why you do it, but I do appreciate it and hope that you realize that. Thank you.”

  Sheepishly looking anywhere but at Feanne, Estin finally settled on directing his attention at Raeln. “I should go lay down,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “Yoska says we will reach the next town tomorrow afternoon, and I would like to be a little stronger by then. I’ll need time, after this.” Not waiting for a reply, Estin moved to the end of the wagon and dropped down, catching himself on the lip of the roof. They normally kept the back of the wagon open when traveling, allowing them to swing inside if they were careful.

  A droplet of rain fell on Raeln’s head, causing him to look up into the sky, where black clouds lingered. Within seconds a steady shower was coming down. Raeln told Feanne, “You should go below. Keep that wound dry and make sure that Estin doesn’t get himself killed. Please watch out for him. He doesn’t always take care of himself. I can’t always protect him. Whether you like it or not, I’m putting you in charge of keeping him alive.”

  Feanne did not argue and instead followed Estin down into the single large room of the wagon.

  “Well handled,” offered Dalania as the rain picked up.

  “Meaning what?”

  Laughing lightly and spreading her arms to let the rain completely soak her, the dryad shook her long hair and closed her eyes. “Even such a simple thing will help Estin,” she explained a moment later. Raeln could not be certain, but he thought the vines growing all around the woman’s body had grown more vibrant since the storm had begun. “She will never remember until she finds something worth remembering. He is her anchor to this world and her sanity, now that their children are gone. Without him, I doubt she will ever be more than an unfeeling husk of what she once was. She needs him, whether she knows it or not.”

  “Seems like he needs her more than she needs him,” Raeln replied, shielding his face with his hand. He had always hated rainstorms and being soaked, if only because it made his fur stink. Still, he would rather stay atop the wagon through the whole storm than go below and impose on Estin and Feanne.

  “They have always been that way,” replied Dalania. “It is all in how they present their feelings. Feanne considers her emotions a risk, even after believing she had lost everything and it nearly destroyed her. Estin has no such reservations, which I believe is what won her over. He puts his heart out for the world to see and welcomes the consequences.”

  Raeln thought on that a while as the storm grew in intensity. For as much as he wanted to go inside, he had every intention of letting Estin and Feanne be alone for as long as he could manage. Even when a bolt of lightning struck the plains not far to the east, he made no attempt to head to shelter.

  “How did I manage to tear that Turessian apart?” he asked eventually, getting an amused smile from Dalania. “I keep asking myself that. I’ve fought one before, and while I held her off, she was far stronger than I was. This one was even stronger and I was able to fight her like she was a normal person. Despite what the others think, I’m not that good.”

  “I do not condone violence, Raeln.”

  “Then tell me what you’re hiding about that fight.”

  Dalania grinned broadly—the first such time Raeln had seen her appear quite so happy. Finally she replied over her shoulder, “Sometimes violence is necessary and being able to use magic from a distance helps. Consider yourself my champion for that fight.”

  “Will I get that help again, if the need arises?”

  “You will,” she answered, still smiling. It was a nice change to see her happy. If he could only manage the same with Estin and Feanne, Raeln would consider his mission complete.

  “Why are you going north?” Raeln asked eventually.

  “Why are you, Raeln?”

  “My friend was murdered by one of the Turessians.”

  Dalania regarded him skeptically. “Do you think that particular Turessian already to be so far north?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Then it has nothing to do with why you are going. Instead, that’s an excuse that you are using to justify it, but is not the reason. If you don’t need a reason, neither do I.”

  Raeln chuckled, knowing she was right. He had thought much the same more than once, without coming to a solid conclusion for why he was willing to travel so far in the middle of a war. “These creatures, whatever we want to call them, they are victims as much as we are. I’ve seen firsthand what their leader does to them, trying to break them and reshape them into the monsters we’ve been fighting. He did it to my sister. They kill because they are told to and learn to like it. Trying to get revenge on something that is following orders mindlessly won’t get me anywhere. I want at their head. If I don’t do this, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I have nothing back there to live for, and On’esquin keeps telling me that I’m important here. I know how to fight and it’s about all that keeps me from dwelling on what’s happened.”

  Dalania seemed to accept that more readily and remained quiet a while. When she finally did speak, she looked out at the plains again rather than at Raeln. “I’ve lived my life wanting to be out here,” she told him, smiling at the rain-soaked plains. “Dreamed of it every night for decades. Do you know how I gained the freedom to finally sit here with you, Raeln?”

  “No. I know pretty much exactly nothing about you. Other than you liked chicken when you were pretending to be a fox.”

  “A Turessian—not one of the monsters, but a good man—gave me freedom, when my own city’s leaders would not, even under the rule of law. It was Feanne’s father who welcomed me in, gave me a home, gave me purpose again. I would follow her to the ends of the world, if only out of thanks. Having the opportunity to repay the debt I have to the Turessians is an additional benefit. They cannot all support what has been happening, if their chosen representative could have seen fit to treat us with so much respect and dignity.”

  “This will not be without bloodshed, Dalania. I saw how you looked at us when we fought. If we even make it past the border of Turessi, I doubt we will have a moment of rest until the day we die,” he warned her.

  “I am aware of the risks and the intentions of others,” Dalania replied, smiling. “I do not have to like them or encourage them. I only need to endure them. You can do the fighting if it’s unavoidable…I’ll help how I can.”

  Raeln laughed at the woman’s view of the war, shaking his head at the idea of traveling to Turessi to prevent violence with those who sought to instigate
it. Entirely amused at the odd way the woman viewed the world, he slid himself up to the front of the roof to check on the drivers when she gave no indication that she wanted to continue talking.

  As he had left them hours earlier, On’esquin and Yoska were arguing. It was not the heated arguing of enemies, such as when Estin and On’esquin had fought, but the bickering of friends who genuinely enjoyed arguing. From what he could tell, they were fighting about a mug of wine from the barrel in the wagon. The orc had the look of one being overly critical, while Yoska was gesticulating broadly, voicing his own opinions on the matter. Just as they had for days, they spoke in the language of Yoska’s people, which sounded about as much like words to Raeln as a dog barking. He could recognize tone and some intent, but the words were meaningless to him. Neither man seemed to care in the slightest that the rain was falling ever harder, quickly filling the goblet they had been sharing the drink from.

  Suddenly Yoska stopped talking and waved at On’esquin to be quiet as well. Staring off into the sky ahead, the man looked genuinely afraid. “Is time to hide, yes?” Yoska shouted, looking up at Raeln. “Inside with you all!”

  Raeln stood up on the wet roof of the wagon and ran toward the back, grabbing Dalania by the arm as he went, despite her sudden flailing and muffled shriek. Half-carrying her, he leapt off the back of the wagon and caught himself with his free hand on the edge of the roof. Not worried about the risks of doing so as much as the risk of not hurrying, Raeln swung Dalania into the interior of the wagon, where she landed with a short scream and the sound of her crashing into something. Once she was out of the way, he threw himself inside, landing on all fours. He turned and shoved the door closed, sealing them inside the dark wagon.

  “What’s going on?” Dalania demanded, but Raeln walked past her, noting Estin and Feanne were both awake and watching him for clues as to what was happening as well. The two were resting side by side, a nice change from Feanne’s usual efforts to stay far from her husband. Hopefully the two had been talking.

  Heading to the front of the wagon, Raeln pulled open one of the shutters of the window between the interior and the drivers, so he could watch without being seen by anything that was coming.

  Yoska had managed to pull on a heavy black robe they had found in the back of the wagon and already had settled into an attempt to look calm. He had the hood pulled far over his head and kept the cuffs as low as he could to hide his hands.

  Like Yoska, On’esquin had concealed himself, though only slightly. They had not found any additional garb that might hide who he was, but the black robes under his armor had a hood of their own. He had pulled this up and sat forward, making it more difficult to see his face, though few creatures were quite so hulking as an armored orc.

  “What did you see?” Raeln asked them both, keeping his head low.

  “Carrion bats,” said On’esquin. “Scavenger creatures from Turessi. My people used to train them to hunt. I have to assume they still do. Nothing that lives in the wastes would come this far south unless ordered to do so.”

  Far ahead of the wagon, Raeln saw three winged creatures descending toward them, skimming along the road. They grew rapidly, and he soon realized they were far larger than any bat he had ever seen. The black bats had wings nearly ten feet across and let out shrieks as they drew close, announcing themselves the way he had seen birds call to scare out prey.

  The bats flew past the wagon, banking when they were close enough that he wondered if they meant to crash into the horses. With each cry the bats gave, the horses got more spooked, rocking the wagon dangerously. After a few more passes, the bats turned and raced toward the north. A few seconds later, distant horses appeared on the road, headed their way.

  “Get everyone down,” whispered Yoska, though the approaching figures were still far off. “As we planned. Take magic green man with the poor taste in wine with you. There is chance they may search wagon. We give them little reason to look for people hiding, but is always a risk.”

  Raeln threw open the other shutter and took On’esquin’s arm, pulling him through before closing the window again. In the dark room, he could see the wide eyes of On’esquin and Dalania, both very likely blind, while Estin’s gleaming orange eyes and Feanne’s normally-blue eyes shining white let him know they were probably fine in the near-dark. “Like we planned,” he told them forcefully. “Get into cover. Be ready for anything. This could be war survivors or a Turessian raiding force. We won’t know until it’s too late to run.”

  The wagon had four large crates in it that had been filled with various supplies and parts for the wagon’s repair. When they had laid claim to it, they had consolidated everything they kept into one crate, leaving the others as simple beds for whoever might be resting at any given time. Their plan—created by Yoska, which gave Raeln further doubt about whether it was a good plan—was for them to hide in the crates until any danger had passed.

  Estin was the first to react, hopping off the crate he had been resting on. He threw it open and leapt inside, sitting up to watch the others. With only three crates, they would have to share, especially given the size of Raeln and On’esquin. Despite his eyes being on Feanne, she walked across the wagon to stand in front of Raeln.

  “Males first,” Feanne told Raeln, motioning toward one of the crates. “I think I prefer to be on top.”

  Groaning, Raeln grabbed Feanne by the shoulders, spun her around, and shoved her toward Estin. She might not understand, but he hoped she at least got the part where he would not encourage her advances, even during an emergency. Thankfully she crawled into the crate with Estin and they closed it. That was one minor crisis averted.

  “Much as the gypsy says I need to appreciate a good ‘cuddle,’ we will not both fit in there,” On’esquin said, pointing at the nearest crate. “You and I are far too big for this.”

  “Just get in one!” Raeln hissed at the orc. “Why are you all so difficult?”

  Before Raeln could evaluate how they were going to make this all work, Dalania threw open the next crate—likely by feel—and reached out to grab his arm. Meanwhile, On’esquin tried to squeeze his wide shoulders into the remaining crate with loud grunts and scraping noises.

  “There is no time for modesty!” Dalania told Raeln, pulling him in with her.

  As he lay down, the crate began to feel like a coffin, made worse when Dalania let the lid fall shut as she gingerly lay on top of him. He panted nervously, wishing he could see something in the tight confines. “Are you all right with this?” Raeln asked, trying not to touch the mostly naked woman more than he had to, mostly for her sake. He thought of her reactions to others touching her and wanted to avoid contributing to her worries, but there was only so much room.

  Laughing nervously, Dalania told him, “Not in the slightest. I do prefer this to being killed by undead, though. Consider that my vote of confidence in you.”

  They lay there, cramped in the crate meant more for tools than two people, listening for what could have been hours by Raeln’s guess. The wagon continued rumbling forward, giving him some hope they might not have too much to worry about. Then, as he was starting to wonder if they could get out, the wagon came to an abrupt lurching halt.

  “Not good,” whispered Dalania. “You don’t have weapons in reach, do you?”

  Raeln wanted to swear and bang his forehead on the floorboards, but knew that was a bad idea. He had left his sword in a corner of the wagon, far from where they lay. Worse still, it might be visible to anyone who looked into the wagon’s interior. He had given no thought to what they might have left lying around.

  A creak from the front of the wagon alerted Raeln that Yoska was climbing down from the driver’s seat. Raeln strained his ears, turning them to and fro, trying to pick out any other sound, but all he managed to hear through the muffling of the wagon walls were the horses whinnying.

  The seconds passed slowly and Raeln began to worry Yoska was in grave danger. If the man was being chased or kille
d, he would need their help immediately. However, if he were managing to talk his way out of the situation, having wildlings and an orc come bursting out of the wagon would only complicate things. Reluctantly, Raeln waited and listened.

  Soon a click and creak of the rear door of the wagon opening warned Raeln that they were no longer alone. Boots thumped up into the wagon—four sets, by his estimate.

  Raeln wanted desperately to shift and make sure his legs were free to kick whoever opened the crate without hitting Dalania, but he knew doing so would make a great deal of noise. He was forced to wait, practically holding his breath.

  “You see?” came Yoska’s voice within the room, letting Raeln know he likely only had three people with him. Still, there could be more outside, and if any were Turessians, the odds changed considerably. “As I say, wagon takes supplies to army. Wagon comes back empty. Is simple arrangement, no?”

  Another man’s raspy voice replied. “Shut your mouth, gypsy. We received word of attacks on our supply wagons and need to check them all. Your people do not have the greatest history of cooperating, even under treaty.”

  “You insult me, sir.”

  “That was my intent, gypsy. Move aside.”

  Raeln smelled leather, metal, and decay as at least one of the men came fully into the wagon and walked toward the crate with Estin and Feanne. That crate was nearest the door, opposite the barrel of wine that had been strapped to the floor of the wagon. Farther in were On’esquin’s crate on the same side as Estin and Feanne and then Raeln’s opposite that.

  “Weapons and clothing, but no passengers?” asked the man with the raspy voice, sounding much closer. “Do you think I’m a fool, gypsy?”

  “Is not for me to say. Such things are determined by one’s actions, not a man’s statement of it being so.”