by Jim Galford
Yoska was still unconscious—or pretending to be, Estin reminded himself—and On’esquin gave Estin a look that said, “Sorry to see you here too,” but kept his mouth shut. Estin knew that mindset…the orc intended to watch him die to deny the Turessian even the smallest bit of information. In his place Estin hoped he could have done the same.
From where he stood, Estin had a decent view of the open space between the stable and the woods where the bodies of his parents were. He and Feanne had done some serious damage, with nearly twenty zombies torn apart badly enough that they could no longer stand. For her part Feanne continued to fight, heedless of Estin having been caught. He occasionally saw her fur in the mass of zombies, trying to keep out of their reach while gleefully tearing at them.
Farther up the rise into the woods, Raeln lay on the ground, struggling to stand with his hands still shackled behind his back. The man had been hurt worse than Estin had expected and would be no help in escaping. From what Estin could see, Raeln could not even manage to sit up, let alone run or fight. Taking aim at the noose had been a waste of Estin’s meager strength.
“This is all you could muster for your army, traitor?” asked the Turessian, motioning toward Feanne and laughing. “One rabid fox, a large but frail wolf, whatever this one is, and an old gypsy? I truly am disappointed. Dorralt spoke of you like you were going to be trouble. I expected legions of soldiers, trained and ready to stand in our way. Even the cities put up more of a fight than you and yours. I have waited for generations to fight you and it all ends in less than a day?”
A shadow passed overhead, making the Turessian woman pause and look around. A second later an enormous bird—larger than most cows Estin had ever seen—swooped low and snatched eight zombies from near Feanne before rising back into the sky. Once it was over the woods, it dropped the flailing undead far from the village.
“That was…odd,” the woman said, blinking as she watched the bird flying fast toward the mountains. “I cannot say that has happened to me before.”
The woman walked toward Feanne but did not make it to her before a large group of deer came stampeding out of the woods, racing straight through the group of undead. Dozens were trampled as they tried to grab at the fast-moving animals, with many more gored badly by the antlered males that led the group. Like the bird, they raced through and kept going on the far side, leaving many undead too broken to stand.
Half-crouched and covering her face, the Turessian slowly stood again as the deer departed. She hesitated a long time, looking around for what might come next.
Estin knew exactly what was happening and smiled grimly. He had seen Dalania use her magic during the attack on their camp and this had all the markings of her particular style, especially from what Dalania had said she was doing to stall earlier. The woman was afraid of direct confrontation and preferred to attack from afar, often calling woodland creatures to strike. Like Feanne, Dalania’s powers came from the woods and often took the form of something from there. Wherever the woman was, she was helping far more than Estin had initially thought. All was not quite lost, though he had his doubts about how much Dalania might be able to do to swing the tide.
Straining against the magical winds that held him to the wall of the stable, Estin found he could move his head, arms, and legs, but any attempt to slide sideways or otherwise move his body met more resistance from the winds. If he had not exhausted himself mentally, he was certain he could have unraveled the spell in time, but each time he tried to reach out with his magic to fight it, he felt nauseous and could not pull anything together into usable magic.
The Turessian surveyed her remaining undead—only about thirty were still standing, with another ten trying to get up. She shook her head and then moved toward Raeln, avoiding Feanne entirely. As focused as Feanne was on ripping apart the two zombies she was fighting, she never so much as looked at the Turessian.
“Let’s get you back on your rope, shall we?” the woman asked loudly enough that Estin could hear, as she walked past Raeln and adjusted the end of the rope the undead held near the tree. She gave herself enough slack that she could tie a new noose and handed the trailing end back to the undead.
Estin searched the wall around himself for anything that might help. His swords were far out of reach, over near the zombies. Nothing in his bags would help. He needed to get off that wall quickly or hope Dalania could find a way to save them all. Estin had never liked putting all of his faith in one person—other than Feanne—so he knew he had to find some way to get free.
Looking around, Estin could find nothing at first that would help. He was effectively stuck to the outer wall of the stable, with the small human-sized entry door to his left and stalls to his right. He thought a moment and then glanced at the doorway again, realizing it was not large enough for horses.
Hoping he had gotten lucky, Estin twisted his neck to look at the wall on which he hung and nearly shouted with joy when he saw the metal hinges and latch. By sheer chance the woman had pushed him up against a latched swinging door, rather than an actual wall. The constant battering by the winds of her spell rattled the metal clasps that held the door shut. Estin reached for the latch, coming up less than a hand’s width from it with his fingertips. Straining and pulling his body as far as he could, his claws only barely scraped the handle.
Outside, Feanne had moved on to new targets as the zombies she had been fighting lay twitching on the ground. She was covered in gore, but seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself, completely ignorant of what was happening to Estin and the others. Dalania was nowhere to be found. Raeln lay groaning on the ground as the Turessian woman finished tying a loop into the end of the rope near him.
Estin’s claws brushed at the latch, unable to quite catch it with enough force to move it. He finally gave up, searching around himself for a broom or something that might be long enough to let him reach the handle and move it. Near Estin’s feet lay a broken broom handle. Happily, he reached for it with his tail, intending to pull it up the wall to his hand…but then stopped as he brought his tail up to stare at it. Unlike his torso, his tail was not pinned by the Turessian’s spell.
“You’re a fool, Estin,” he told himself, laughing. Estin could not turn the handle with his tail, which was far more of a fine movement than he could manage, but slapping at the handle to move it was viable. Three hits later the latch popped free and the door was thrown open by the winds hitting Estin, hurling him onto his back outside. The spell that had been holding him immediately fell apart without a solid surface to keep him up against.
Scrambling on all fours across the space between the stable and his weapons, Estin barely made it before the first zombie turned and noticed him. By the time he came up with his swords in hand, six of the creatures had begun walking toward him, reaching for him as they came.
Up the hill things had only gotten worse. The Turessian had finished tying her noose and was standing over Raeln, ready to string him up again. Feanne was trapped, facing off against nearly a dozen zombies but acting more like a cornered animal than the powerful warrior Estin remembered. Between him and either of them was the majority of the undead force.
Reaching down to put the noose around Raeln’s neck, the Turessian hopped back as Raeln leapt onto his feet without warning. Jumping straight up, he hooked his arms under his feet, bringing them in front of himself with the manacles still on. He lunged, putting the woman on the defensive, and then kicked her in the stomach, knocking her off her feet before she could react.
Estin returned his attention to the undead around him, satisfied he really only needed to worry about keeping them off Yoska and On’esquin, at least for as long as Raeln could keep the Turessian occupied. It was time to put some faith in his companions to see what Raeln could do.
Vines suddenly exploded from the dry ground, wrapping around several of the undead in front of Estin and dragging them down onto their knees as they struggled to reach him. He did not have time for questions and hac
ked at their heads, “killing” several before he had to back away as more approached.
Raeln was doing better than Estin could have imagined. The Turessian had recovered somewhat and was trying to alternately raise her hands to cast a spell and grab at Raeln, neither of which seemed to be working out for her. Raeln was simply too fast, evading her hands and punching at her sides once or twice each time he avoided her attacks. When she backpedaled and tried to bring her hands up for yet another spell, Raeln stepped in quickly and grabbed her wrist in one hand and punched at her elbow with the other, snapping her arm at an odd angle.
Slashing with his weapons, Estin tried to keep some space between himself and the approaching undead, though with more and more joining them from the main group, he knew he would eventually run out of room. He continued to back up, gradually drawing the crowd of groaning corpses away from Raeln and Feanne, hoping if he could lead the mindless creatures toward the far edge of the town, he might be able to run into the woods and lead them away from his companions.
To Estin’s amazement Raeln continued to stay ahead of the Turessian, brutally beating on her more quickly than she appeared able to heal herself. He danced around her, inflicting horrific wounds and breaking bones, which in turn allowed him to more easily keep ahead of her attempts to attack him. Soon Estin saw her fall under Raeln’s continued onslaught, though the large man never let up.
As Estin backed slowly around the next house, parrying the zombies’ attempts to grab at him, he looked up as someone shouted on the far side of the group of undead. Standing between the undead and Raeln were On’esquin and Yoska, both shouting to get the attention of the walking corpses. Yoska was putting away a bag that Estin recognized as picks that had belonged to Finth, used for disabling locks and likely how they had escaped the lock on the net.
Part of the group of zombies turned on the newcomers, while others seemed oblivious and kept after Estin. With the group separated, Estin made headway, having more time to aim his attacks to cripple the undead briefly. They would recover and stand back up, but he only needed them to stay down long enough for his friends to escape.
Soon Estin broke through the group of undead and rushed over to Yoska’s side, while On’esquin used his spear to keep the undead from gaining ground on them.
“Get the wolf and fox before angry dead lady realizes we cannot kill her,” Yoska said, pushing Estin in that direction. “We take care of these, but I ask that you not take long.”
Running up the slope to the edge of the village, Estin thought to go after Raeln first, given that he was trying to fight a Turessian. Instead, upon seeing Raeln continuing to pound the smaller human woman into the ground, he changed direction to head toward Feanne.
Unlike Raeln, Feanne was anything but in control of her situation. She slashed and hissed at the two zombies that had her backed near the trees, her claws doing little real damage to them. She had managed to disembowel one, though that did little to slow it. Clearly confused by their inability to stay dead, Feanne appeared to be fully panicked, trying to get away without taking her eyes off the creatures. Another few steps and she would be up against a tight group of trees that would keep her from retreating.
Estin summoned a small bit of his magic—more than he should have, he realized as his stomach knotted up and nearly caused him to vomit again—and channeled the energy the spirits whispered into his mind through his hand and down into one of his swords. He did not even have to look down to know it glowed faintly with energies that would allow him to easily tear through undead. That had long been one of his favorite tricks Asrahn had taught him, one she had claimed had saved herself and Feanne’s father many times during their escape from slavery.
Swinging as hard as he could with one hand, Estin ripped through one of the zombies with a burning hiss as the enchanted blade went through rotted flesh and bone, separating the creature’s head and one shoulder from the rest of its torso. Estin brought his weapon up and around, striking at the next zombie before it even realized he was there, tearing away a goodly portion of its chest. As the creature collapsed, Estin’s sword went cold, the magic already expended. He had never had that spell fail so quickly, which warned him just how far he had pushed himself past his limits. Anytime he had used it in the past, he had been able to fight until his arms were tired before the magic faded.
“We need to go, Feanne,” Estin said, sheathing one sword and offering his hand. When she balked, staring at him wide-eyed like she had forgotten she had met him, he added, “I’ll take you away from them. Come with me.”
Reluctantly, Feanne inched closer, raising a shaking and blood-soaked hand to his. At last she reached out and clasped his hand, standing and stepping close to him as if expecting him to protect her, a far cry from how she had been in life.
“Raeln!” Estin shouted. “We’re leaving!”
The wolf delivered another powerful punch to the fallen Turessian’s back and looked up. He planted a paw on the woman’s back to keep her down before pointing at Estin, then at Yoska and On’esquin, and finally at the woods. Estin did not need words to understand Raeln wanted them to get a head start before he would follow. That was probably for the best, as Estin watched the Turessian’s arm and one leg snap back into their proper shape. Raeln seemed to notice that as well and kicked her again.
Partially dragging Feanne, Estin ran toward the others, tagging Yoska on the back with his tail as he ran by. The gypsy understood immediately and followed, whistling for On’esquin, who was nearly surrounded by undead. With a grunt On’esquin used his spear to drive the undead away and then charged straight through them to follow the others.
Estin did not look back again, knowing if they lost anyone, there was little more he could do. His head pounded and his muscles ached, but they needed to get far away from the Turessian and her troops before he would be able to rest. He ran for the closest section of dense woods where he was certain the Turessian would not be able to see their departure, hoping they could outrun the zombies trailing them.
As he neared the woods, Estin saw Dalania practically form from the trees, having somehow managed to blend in among them. She wrung her hands nervously, watching the group approaching and came out to meet him and Feanne.
Estin stopped as Dalania took Feanne from him and looked her over for injuries. He took that brief respite to finally stop and check on the others, now that he had the woods as cover. They were not far behind, while the zombies—nearly fifty of them after many of the wounded ones had gotten back up—were running along behind them, losing ground steadily but not nearly quickly enough. Any hesitation or breaks to rest and the undead would overrun them.
Somehow Raeln had not only caught up, but passed the zombies that pursued the rest of them. He was not far ahead of the corpses, but the gap between him and them was growing. Whatever Estin had thought of his strength had been greatly underestimated, given how badly wounded he appeared while still pushing on as strongly as the others.
“Take them to shelter and I’ll find you,” Dalania told Estin, lifting her hands as though about to direct music. “I can slow the undead until they have forgotten what they were chasing.”
The ground at the feet of the zombies suddenly flooded, turning into a wide swath of mud. The undead charged in heedless of what was happening, sinking immediately to their necks. Row after row plunged in, trying to climb over one another to get to their targets but only managing to push themselves farther into the deep mud.
Knowing Dalania could likely fend for herself, Estin took Feanne’s hand again and followed the others into the woods, hurrying to put some real distance between themselves and the enemy.
They ran and sometimes walked straight through until the moon had come up high overhead, though Estin had lost track of the time or miles that had passed. Every so often he would stop to look back at Feanne, who continued to follow along holding his hand, her face a mix of fear and confusion. The dark of the woods seemed to actually frighten her, a su
rprise to Estin, given how she had once reveled in the night. As long as he had known her, darkness had been when she was at her best.
At length it was Raeln that stopped them, motioning for the group to come to a stop as he reached a remote part of the woods, miles from anything recognizable. He waited until the rest of them had settled down, trying to slow their breathing and fumbling for water, before he joined them, sitting down nearby and rubbing at his neck.
“Are you all right?” Estin asked, offering his skin of water to Raeln, who took it readily.
“Yes…barely,” he wheezed after a sip of water. He kept one hand to the bloody line across his throat where the rope had been. “Much longer…I wouldn’t…be. Thank you…for coming back. I can carry…my own weight on my…neck for only so long.”
At that point Raeln stiffened and looked at Feanne, sitting next to Estin. Unlike the others, she seemed entirely fine with the long run and was far more interested in squinting up at the moon, cocking her head as she studied it.
“Is that…who I think it is?” asked Raeln, stifling a cough.
“Yes,” Estin replied, squeezing Feanne’s hand, though she did not seem to notice. “This is Feanne…or at least what’s left of her. The magic won’t last long…”
Raeln shook his head and shoved Estin’s water back into his hand. “Thank you for saving me. If it ever again requires you doing what the Turessians have been doing to us, don’t bother. Let me die next time.”
“Raeln…it’s not like that,” pleaded Estin, but the man stormed off.
Looking about for some support, Estin found Yoska would not meet his eyes at all. When he turned to On’esquin, the orc got up and rushed at Estin with enough anger and forcefulness that Feanne squeaked and ducked behind Estin.