The Northern Approach

by Jim Galford

  “Have I ever broken promise to you, cousin?”

  “Do you want me to answer that honestly?”

  Yoska’s grin explained it all, at least to Estin. As with anything else, Yoska would do what he thought was in everyone’s best interests, regardless of honesty or promises.

  “Very well,” he finally said, giving Ira a placating gesture. “When I can find my Varra, your son can have her if she is still willing. I will not object or stand in the way of our bargain. Our caravan has been scattered and I am afraid she is not with me at this time. Whatever happens, I will not oppose the two of them spending as much time together as they desire. By my blood I will let her do whatever she wishes these days.”

  Estin’s fur stood on end. The man had no intention of telling his own cousin what had happened. He wanted to object, to say something, but Yoska shot him a warning glare from the corner of his eye that he managed to hide before Ira noticed. Estin wanted to speak up, but not really understanding the weird relationship Yoska had with his cousin—who, Estin noted, did not smell as though she were really related—made him question his resolve. Reluctantly, he kept his mouth shut and nervously picked at some mud in his arm fur.

  Trying to look anywhere but Ira in hopes he could hide his discomfort, Estin noticed Raeln was doing the same thing. The wolf’s ears were back and he looked distinctly uncomfortable, almost ashamed. He knew something about Varra, and that made Estin wonder all the more at who this man really was. That Yoska accepted him was good enough for Estin to travel with him, but there were many unanswered questions. Estin mentally added that to the list of things he had to force the group to answer, once there was time.

  Yoska and Ira continued to bicker for much of the next hour, while Estin and Raeln waited quietly in a corner and On’esquin meandered around the home, examining the furnishings and decorations.

  It took nearly the full hour before Thomin and his guard woke with snorts. When they did, the guard began scrambling about, trying to find the weapon Raeln had taken from him, while Thomin looked around and groaned upon seeing his wife. Within seconds, Ira had grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him into another room, where she could faintly be heard lecturing him. The bodyguard gave up his search and got up from the floor, cleared his throat, and excused himself to another room, leaving the four men and one fox alone.

  “Yoska,” Estin said, breaking the silence in the room. “Why is no one here surprised to see you walking around with two wildlings on leashes?”

  The gypsy flinched at that. “We all do things we are not proud of in our lives, yes? There is much profit in selling servants from one land to another, and many of the clans have done so for generations. We tell ourselves, is not our place to question whether person sold to us should be sold or not…if it is against laws in one place, we move them somewhere else.”

  “You sold free wildlings into slavery.”

  Yoska nodded with a deep frown. “Was not good thing to do, but it paid well,” he admitted to Estin, but gave Raeln a sharp glance as the large man began growling. “I have not sold anyone in any land since we met, Estin. I do not plan to change that, either. This is my promise to you. I do not make it to save myself, but because is right thing to do.”

  Estin let it drop at that, though he wanted to wring details out of the man. He wanted to know if there were more of his breed out in the world. He wanted to know if there were more large wildling communities that had survived. Likely Yoska could have answered those questions, but given the war in recent years, the knowledge would be all but useless. Moreover, Estin had no doubt Yoska would have said something if he had seen more wildlings like Estin. For his own peace of mind, Estin would let the man answer in his own time, if he had anything to say.

  “Why doesn’t she travel with one of the clans, if she’s your cousin?” Raeln eventually asked, looking genuinely confused. “And why marry your daughter off to her son?”

  “Is not same thing you mean when you say cousin,” explained Yoska, sitting forward in the chair the way Estin would have expected an old man to when telling a child a story. Given that Yoska was in his sixties and Estin was ten—middle-aged for his people, but still young by human standards—he was willing to be Yoska saw them that way. “You have heard stories of gypsies stealing children from the cities, meant to scare children into being nice?”

  “Of course,” Raeln answered. “We were careful to keep all of ours hidden away when gypsies sold to us.”

  “Ira is same story, but for gypsy children. She was lost child, brought into the family for her safety. When she got older, she left the clans to come to city. Such stories scare our children, though I do not claim they behave any better for their fear of being sent to a city.”

  Estin ignored the rest of the conversation, turning his attention to On’esquin. The burly orc was poking around the room, examining sculptures and paintings in the corners. He stopped at a bookcase and pulled out one book after another, reading a few pages and then putting them back where he had found them. He seemed entirely fascinated by the simplest things now that they were somewhere relatively safe—a drastic change from the driven and confrontational demeanor Estin had seen in him when they first met. This somehow felt more natural for him, making Estin decide to wait until later to ask him the questions that lingered.

  Once he was sure they were not going to run again that day, Estin began to relax as the steady sound of Ira’s lecturing continued. He took off the leash again, and despite wanting to throw it as far from himself as he could manage, he coiled it up and lay it on the floor nearby, in case he had to grab it quickly for some reason.

  Estin decided to lay down, intending to sleep until there was reason to be ready to go again. He had barely sat when he saw the fox run off toward the side room where Thomin’s goon had gone and reappeared seconds later, prancing toward Estin, the end of a pile of blankets in her teeth. The bodyguard leaned into the room to watch the fox go, looked at On’esquin, then clamped his mouth shut and left again. Through it, the orc was oblivious, paging through a thick book.

  The fox padded over to Estin, dropped the blankets in front of him, and then stared at him with her bright-green eyes, as though waiting for him to say or do something. He had never noticed her eye color before and wondered what kind of fox had eyes colored like that. From what he had seen, most of the mountain foxes had brown or blue eyes.

  “Good girl?” he offered, honestly not sure what the animal wanted. She seemed satisfied with that and flopped on the wood flooring nearby with a huff.

  The others seemed less sure of what they wanted to do while they waited for Ira or Thomin to return. Yoska continued to relax in the chair where he had sat down upon entering the home, but had begun twirling a knife around in his hand, entertaining himself and passing time. On’esquin found one particular book Estin could not identify at a distance and sat on the floor near the bookshelves, reading.

  The one person who seemed entirely unable to find any way to relax was Raeln. The wolf paced one side of the room, making a point of not watching the others. He was so ill at ease that Estin felt more uncomfortable the longer he watched him. Estin tried to ignore him, but the man was simply too large to pace in the small room, making him impossible to truly put out of one’s thoughts.

  “Sit down before you make me tired,” Estin said, noticing Yoska smirk. “They could be a while.”

  “I’d rather stay on my feet,” countered Raeln, continuing his short path along the wall.

  Estin groaned and tried to lay down on his stolen blankets, but the fox shot him a nervous look. Following her gaze, Estin saw the floorboards along Raeln’s path were stained with occasional flecks of fresh blood from where his paws were bleeding. Estin had not even thought about the man having no way to tend his feet during their travels; he had gotten so used to using magic to fix minor inconveniences like that that he rarely gave it a thought anymore for others. “Raeln, sit.”

  The wolf stopped and turned to
ward Estin, giving him a strong-willed stare of one who intended to disobey for the sake of disobeying. Estin knew that look all too well from Oria. “Don’t give me orders, thief,” warned Raeln, clenching his hands into fists.

  “I’m giving you the chance to sit down and talk with me under your own power,” Estin insisted, sitting straight and meeting Raeln’s challenging stare. “I’ve kept my kits from mauling me when they disobey…you’re hardly a challenge.”

  “Is not exaggeration,” warned Yoska, his eyes still on the knife that danced across his knuckles. “I knew their mother, and both children took more after her than their father. Estin being alive to tell of it is testimony to him not being one you should argue with, no? Besides, they do not teach you to respect your elders?”

  Raeln snorted and looked back at Yoska. “I’m nearly twenty-eight. Estin’s a child compared to me.”

  “You misunderstand,” Yoska replied before Estin could argue at the absurdity of Raeln claiming he was that old. Wildlings rarely lived to fifteen, given the rough lives they lived, but he had never heard of one surviving past their midthirties, regardless of the method. Raeln should have been grey-furred and barely able to stand without a crutch. “You are child by virtue of how you act. Is not a bad thing. I am youngest of our group by my own reasoning. Estin is oldest, though green man will fight him for who is best father for us both.”

  Raeln came over to Estin reluctantly and bent at the waist. “Don’t tell me what to do, Estin. I’ll protect this group as I see fit. That’s my only job here. Let me do it. So long as you continue to behave like a thief, I will not take orders from you.”

  Estin smiled up at Raeln as sweetly as he could manage, a trick Feanne’s mother had taught him for keeping others from seeing when he had begun casting a spell that required little more than hand movement. By the time Raeln noticed Estin’s hand move, the spell was complete.

  Bands of air thickened to the strength of ropes around Raeln and slammed into his back and shoulders. At Estin’s direction the invisible chains pulled Raeln to the floor and held him there for several seconds before they dissipated, leaving him lying practically flat on his stomach, glaring angrily at Estin.

  “Thank you for sitting down,” Estin said, ignoring the man’s growl. “Now, what is the problem? You’ve been anxious since we met, but this is the first time you’ve snapped at me.”

  Raeln rose up onto his knees, towering over Estin without having to stand. “You stole from that man,” he growled at Estin, pointing toward where Thomin had gone. “He is not our enemy or we wouldn’t be in his home. We can find another way without becoming bandits.”

  Estin smiled at the man’s anger. He clearly had not grown up struggling to feed himself. More likely, he grew up where he could afford to hate those who had no choice but to steal. People like Estin. It was a life he had left mostly behind years before, but he could easily see Raeln’s judgment of him.

  “How many of your friends died of starvation growing up?” Estin asked, getting the expected blink of surprise and confusion. “Everyone I knew either got sold into slavery or died during the winter months in an alley. They usually weren’t found until spring and lay there rotting until then. Those who survived took what they needed from those who could spare it. We got lucky every so often and were given a meal by someone with a good heart, but more often than not, we had to take it by skill or force. I chose skill and never took anything that required me to hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. Never.”

  Raeln opened his mouth to reply, looking ashamed, but Estin chose not to let him off the hook so easily.

  “You’ve never gone without a meal when you truly needed it in your life before the war came to your lands,” Estin went on, Raeln’s sinking tail confirming his guess. “That’s not a bad thing, Raeln, but it is something that separates us. If you have a problem with things I do, say so and ask me about it. Don’t get angry.”

  Estin dug around in one of his belt pouches until he found Thomin’s coins, which he slapped onto the floor in front of Raeln. “Give them back to him. He will appreciate the gesture and trust you for it. I’m fine being the thief he despises.”

  “Estin…” Raeln began, but trailed off, apparently unsure what to say. After a moment, he scooped up the coins and stared at them in his palm, as though they were accusing him as openly as Estin had.

  “Don’t argue. Sit there and let me fix your feet before we have to run again.”

  “I’m fine,” Raeln told him, starting to stand up, but Estin reached out and caught him by the wrist. When Raeln tried to pull away, Estin dug in his claws until he saw Raeln’s muzzle twitch.

  “Sit down,” he said firmly, and to his surprise, Raeln did.

  Pointing at Raeln’s feet, Estin waited patiently until the man reluctantly slid both toward him. The pads were torn apart and so badly infected that Estin was amazed Raeln could walk.

  “In the future, I’ll let you decide how to protect the group,” Estin told Raeln, putting a hand on Raeln’s lower ankle and letting his mind drift to touch the magic that lingered in the air around him. The whispers of the disembodied spirits that came with it were difficult to hear over. “In return you will tell me when you need healing, regardless of how you think that makes you look weak.”

  “Agreed,” said Raeln, letting out a thankful sigh as his pads healed under Estin’s touch.

  “Relax and get some rest before something new happens,” Estin said, leaning back into his blankets. A strong scent caught his attention and he winced, realizing it was his own stench after so long in the wilds. On a whim he yanked his shirt off to get the stink away from himself, intending to get it washed or burned at the first opportunity. “If there’s anything I know for certain, it’s that trouble doesn’t stop until you’re dead.”

  Raeln nodded froze, staring intently at Estin’s side.

  Thinking the man was looking at the fox, Estin looked over, but the animal was far enough away that she was not his focus. The animal was stalking something under one of the chairs, far closer to Yoska than Estin.

  “Your arm,” Raeln said, apparently anticipating Estin’s question. “What happened to you? Is that from the slave camp?”

  Grinning, Estin realized the man meant the deep scars that ran in crisscrossed lines on his left shoulder and arm. The deep notches in his flesh had never healed properly and no fur would grow there, making them very obvious when he forgot to keep them covered. He had spent long enough wearing long shirts either because of winter weather or Corraith’s blazing sunlight that few had seen the scars to wonder at them.

  “Those are from my first meeting with Feanne,” he explained, trying not to look at the bag that contained her remains. The memory was bittersweet. “She was being tortured and would have been executed. We saved each other that day. Dogs tried to rip us apart.”

  Raeln’s ears drooped and he nodded, knowingly. “My friend…he showed me how it was in the wilds,” Raeln said a moment later, his eyes going distant. “I thought your kind were monsters…savages, even. Where I was raised was nothing like the wilderness. For a long time, I looked down on people like you and him. He eventually showed me my own ignorance and that those living away from the cities were strong in their own way. He showed me how to survive out there. If he hadn’t…when the undead came…” Raeln trailed off and hung his head, not needing to explain. Estin had seen enough of the war’s effects to know Raeln had seen his own mortality in all the deaths he had witnessed. His friend was dead, like so many others.

  Sitting back up, Estin reached out and brushed Raeln’s cheek, making him jump. “We all lost loved ones. You aren’t alone, Raeln. We’re all hurting and alone now. Use that anger and don’t let it consume you the way it almost did to me. All four of us are warriors in our own ways. We need to find strength within ourselves to keep fighting, or we may as well starve in an alley. Your friend would have wanted you to live.”

  Sniffling and covering his face, Raeln hurried away fro
m Estin to the far corner, where he pulled his knees to his chin and hid himself from the others. Estin did not need exceptional hearing to pick up the man’s faint sobs. He would harbor some anger toward Estin for a day or two, until he understood Estin meant nothing cruel by his words. Whoever Raeln’s “friend” was, he meant as much to him as a family member.

  The door to the room where Thomin and Ira had gone popped open a moment later and the man came through first, then stepped aside to let Ira take the lead. Ignoring her husband completely, Ira went straight to Yoska, though she gave Raeln a concerned look in passing. “You, my cousin, are nothing but trouble,” she told the gypsy, standing over him as he spun his knife one more time and then made it vanish into his sleeve. “Do you even understand why Thomin attacked you?”

  “He is jealous of my dashing good looks?”

  Ira sighed and closed her eyes, while Estin stifled a snicker. Yoska’s knack for diffusing tension around him was remarkable. “No,” she went on. “I’m betting you didn’t miss the undead on our streets?”

  “I may have noticed something odd about a few people. Thought it was new fashion.”

  “They’re rounding up wizards,” Ira snapped, kicking Yoska’s chair. “Your orcish friend is in a great deal of danger, as are we. All the entrances to the city are watched. I told my idiot husband to keep his cover, but I would bet that someone has sold us out by now. For some reason that escapes me, he believed you were working with the enemy.”

  Thomin finally spoke up. “The orc! He has the same markings as the men that took Loph and Viris. Damn, woman, you’d think you don’t listen to a word that I…”

  Ira turned to look Thomin’s way and his voice trailed to a whisper and culminated with a nervous cough.

  “Can you get us out of the city?” Ira asked Yoska once Thomin was silent. “We will see to it that you have anything you need if it is within our power to give. Pholithia is not safe for either of us anymore.”