by Jim Galford
Estin noticed On’esquin turn to try to see where they were, and as he did, Yoska let the goblet drop back to his hip.
“Why the secrecy?” Estin asked. “You don’t want On’esquin to know about a story? He might have an idea how you survived, because I couldn’t guess how you’re still breathing. Besides, that cup is part of his stupid prophecy.”
Yoska shook his head. “Magic green man shows up with tattoos of enemy, speaking old gypsy tongue. I hear him often say there are no coincidences. I ask you, Estin, what are odds of you making it out of big stone house in Altis with your own skin, let alone bringing Feanne out with you? I say is odd coincidence you have this cup with you when you do, yes? I wish to figure this out myself and not let green man ramble about how long-dead man expected me to live and wrote about it in strange way. Too many coincidences usually means one of my dear wives is involved.”
Winds picked up to one side of them, making it more difficult to talk. Estin fumbled with his cloak, trying to get it to cover him from the bitter winds, but he could not keep the hood up, given the size of his ears. Feanne seemed to be having much the same problem and soon settled for having the cloak around her and the hood down.
“We are not really hiding anymore, no?” Yoska called out over the winds, offering Estin a knife. “Is better to be comfortable than hidden, when they know we are coming.”
Nodding, Estin cut two slits in the hood, allowing him to pull it up fully and poke his ears out through the slits. His ears would be cold, but overall it was a massive improvement. Bringing his horse as close as he could to Feanne’s, he offered to do the same to her hood.
“Why?” she asked, snow clinging to her fur and the winds whipping her cloak about.
“To stay warmer,” Estin called back, having to raise his voice over the winds.
Feanne looked around in confusion, closing her eyes as she faced into the wind that was already making Estin’s eyes and nose feel half-frozen. “No need,” Feanne answered, shrugging. “I am not cold.”
That sent additional chills down Estin’s spine and tail, thinking perhaps Feanne was still having trouble feeling. It was not a good sign for her recovery.
She seemed to recognize his concern and she reached out to take and squeeze his hand. “I’m fine,” she insisted. Letting the horse move free, she dropped the reins and lifted her sleeve with her free hand. The gashes there that had been slowly healing since she had cut herself were completely closed, despite having still been raw and ugly the night before. “I can hear the nature spirits riding the winds. I may not remember all that I knew before, but I remember enough magic to keep myself warm out here. You do not have to protect me anymore, Estin.”
Estin pressed her hand to his cheek and let her go. It was good to see her gaining her strength again, even if he still felt weak from raising her.
“If storm continues to grow,” Yoska announced, “we will be buried out here when snow starts. This area is not safe for travel when winds are strong and is less safe for cuddling.”
“I thought no one went north of Jnodin?” shouted Estin in reply. The winds were nearly deafening and the horses had slowed. He could barely see On’esquin, Dalania, and Raeln, only twenty feet ahead.
“No one should go north does not mean no one does go north,” the man shouted back. “Was not intending to do it again. Turessians are cheap and grumpy people. I may have lied and said I have not been here before, but is trouble to keep track of my stories.”
They continued on for most of the next hour, unable to converse over the strong winds. Soon, heavy snow came with the wind, cutting Estin’s vision so abruptly he thought they had lost Raeln, On’esquin, and Dalania for a short time. It was not until he had almost run his horse into them that he saw they had stopped to wait for the group to get closer together.
“We’re stopping!” On’esquin bellowed, though Estin largely interpreted the words from the movement of his mouth. The winds had risen to the point of howling, drowning out anything else.
Dropping off his horse and leading it by hand, On’esquin guided the rest of the group at a near crawl to an area where the winds were far less fierce. From what little Estin could see, the nearby rock outcroppings cut the winds, forcing them around the region, leaving small areas relatively still by comparison and mostly free of snow. It was into one of these sheltered area that On’esquin led them, taking them up to an old tree that somehow survived the harsh weather, where he tied off his horse and motioned for the others to do the same.
“Mobodius tree,” explained On’esquin, apparently catching Estin’s surprise at seeing any plant life so far north. “They bloom during warmer days and can survive nearly anything. You will see forests of them as we continue on. It thrives in the harshest weather.”
While Estin and the others settled their horses and fed them, On’esquin and Raeln unfurled a massive sheet of canvas that had been rolled tightly and tied to On’esquin’s pack. Using the stones of the sheltered area, they created a low-hanging tentlike area that the canvas covered, providing some degree of seclusion from the winds. Within that makeshift tent, On’esquin built a small fire pit with stones.
“This is how we lived, once Turess led us to the north,” the orc explained to no one in particular, once everyone had come into the tent and he had a small blaze flickering in the pit. He nursed it until the flames actually put off a fair amount of heat. “We were even more ignorant of how to survive in these lands than any of you might be. Thousands died, but Turess never gave up ground once he moved into a region. Sadly, we never managed to leave.”
Estin and Feanne came over to the fire and sat down, but before he could put an arm around her, Dalania came over and drew Feanne’s attention.
“You really have come back,” the fae-kin woman said, looking into Feanne’s eyes. “Yoska said that you were…that you were you again…but I did not believe him. I can see it now. You remember.” The two women embraced a long time, with Dalania whispering, “It’s good to have you back, pack-leader.”
Soon Raeln and Yoska came into the tent, both shivering and shaking off melting snow.
“It’s getting worse, very quickly,” warned Raeln as he sat down near the fire. Yoska joined him, offering up a flask that he passed over to On’esquin first. “The horses should be fine. I’ve got them all covered and they’re in a good spot. What worries me is I smell something out there, but can’t place it.”
“Animals,” Feanne replied, when she and Dalania finally finished hugging. She put a hand on Estin’s leg, subtly letting him know she had not failed to miss his disappointment at others drawing her attention away. “We were followed by several, though I do not know what they are. The scent is foreign to me.”
“Can you name a type of animal?” asked On’esquin.
“Dogs of some sort. Not quite wolves.”
On’esquin chucked and nodded. “Dire wolves. We’re coming into their southern patrol range. So long as we don’t come near the middle of their hunting grounds, they will only investigate us. I doubt they sent more than six or seven.”
“Are they a threat?” Raeln asked.
“Oh, yes, very much so,” replied On’esquin, moving his spear a little closer. “They travel in packs of three to five to hunt, but the whole pack might be a dozen or more. A single dire wolf is more than a match for any of us. Thankfully they dislike most humanoids and will wander off, once they are sure we aren’t hunting them.”
“If we were?” Raeln insisted.
On’esquin eyed him amusedly. “They aren’t stupid animals. They learn from our tactics and often spring traps of hunters on purpose to lure the hunter out. We will not be hunting any wolves north of Jnodin. They would hunt us, if we tried.”
That seemed to mollify Raeln and he relaxed somewhat, taking the offered flask that On’esquin had not touched. He took sniffed at it and gave Yoska a horrified look before handing it to Estin without drinking any.
Moving the flask near his nose, Es
tin immediately understood Raeln’s reaction. “Is this pure alcohol?” he asked, taking a tiny sip and passing the flask on. “Why would you drink that? I thought having actual flavor mattered. The Altisians said drinks like that make people go blind.”
Feanne sipped at the flask and offered it to Dalania, who quickly refused. Feanne then handed it across the tiny fire to Yoska.
“Is too cold and far from civilized lands to find anything worth drinking,” Yoska replied, sipping from the flask. Shaking his head, he added, “Is awful, yes? Will have to do, unless Turessi has better drinks.”
“They do, but I doubt any of us will be invited to sup with them. This is, of course, assuming anyone is still alive in those lands,” noted On’esquin, adding some kindling to the fire, building it out slowly.
After several minutes of quiet in the tent, broken only by the crackling of the growing fire, Raeln turned to Yoska and offered, “Yoska, I am sorry I had to kill Gunari.”
“Is no matter,” Yoska said dismissively, taking another drink from the flask. “I did not like him so much. I like him far less when I find out he sells us out to enemy, yes? Had he simply sold information, I could not fault him, as I would do same in his place. Actually trying to have us killed is another matter. That, I say, justifies how his life ended. No ancestors will speak for him, nor will I.”
A distant whiney of a horse cut through the winds, though no one seemed to notice it other than Estin. Pulling down his hood, he listened carefully, picking out the rustling of their horses…in the exact opposite direction from where the whiney had come from. “Someone else is out there,” Estin whispered, hopping onto his feet. Raeln got up at the same time, watching Estin for a direction to go. “We’ll check it out and return. Be ready.”
Hurrying from the tent with Raeln close behind him, Estin thought to put up his hood as the winds hit him, but realized that would make him easier to see. With his fur patterning a near match for the snow-and-stone terrain—similar in color to Raeln’s—leaving the hood down would allow him to stick his head out over the stones without high odds of being spotted in the heavy storm.
Raeln put a finger to his mouth, indicating for Estin to be silent. He pointed to a narrow path out of the rocky area and then pointed two fingers at his eyes. They would go that way to take a look, that much Estin understood. If Raeln was going to communicate anything more complex, Estin knew he would have to ask.
Following Raeln up the path to the top of one of the rocky areas, Estin dropped to all fours as they neared where they could potentially be seen. They both scurried across the uneven stones as low to the ground as they could get, sliding up to the very edge of the stones, where they could look down across the mostly flat region. The snow was far deeper even than when they had arrived, already coming up past Estin’s lower ankles and above his wrists.
At first Estin saw nothing but the whirling snow. Anything more than about twenty feet out was a blur of white and black, giving him little sense of distance or movement. He remained as still as he could, watching for anything that stood out, with Raeln apparently doing the same. They both turned their heads and ears slowly, trying to pick anything out of the storm that did not belong without giving away their position.
It was Raeln who first saw something and tapped Estin’s arm. He pointed somewhat west of where they lay, along the path they had been taking before diverting to set up camp. There Estin saw several shapes moving through the snow. He could not make out any detail, but he was fairly certain he saw five separate shapes. In reply to Raeln, he held up five fingers and shrugged. Raeln shook his head and held up eight.
The figures were definitely on horses, from what Estin could see. Who they might be or exact numbers was impossible to say at such a distance with the whirling snow. There could have been twice as many out past the limit of their vision.
Apparently having the same difficulties seeing, Raeln pointed at both of them and then toward the riders. He did not wait for Estin to react, pulling himself up and over the lip of the stones before sliding down onto the snowy ground below. Dropping flat again, Raeln hesitated to be sure the riders had not seen him and then motioned for Estin to join him. The idiot seemed to think they should get closer, which was about the last possible thing Estin wanted to do, but he knew there was no other way to see how much danger they were in.
Once Estin had climbed down, the two wildlings moved as fast as they could without standing fully upright, hurrying along on a path that would intersect the route the horses were taking, getting them close enough that they should be able to see more detail. They ran through the snow for several minutes, getting steadily closer, when Raeln practically threw himself facefirst and flattened out. Estin mirrored him, not knowing why but unwilling to risk exposing them both.
Within seconds after burying himself in the freezing snow, Estin saw nine riders followed by fifty or more men and women, who wore no heavy clothing. Those people walked in straight lines, and as Estin watched, one fell as the wind blew especially hard and the others marched right over it. Seconds later, the fallen person got up and rejoined the formation as though nothing had happened.
Undead.
Raeln seemed to also have seen enough and he patted Estin’s arm and pointed back toward their camp. Even covered with snow, his face told Estin he was horrified at finding that many enemies so close.
Together they cleared the rocks and ran, getting back to the large tent within minutes.
“We have nine riders and a large group of undead heading northwest,” Estin blurted out the moment they were under the tent.
“Nine Turessians,” corrected Raeln. “They are continuing along the path we were taking.”
All eyes went to On’esquin, who sighed and let his head hang. After a moment’s thought, he replied, “I cannot protect us against so many, even if they are all ignorant of my abilities, which by now they cannot possibly be. Likewise, I cannot let them find Turess’s tomb. I put up protections against anyone trying to draw his spirit back as an undead, but there are limits. Sooner or later they will break through and bring him back as an ally or symbol of their authority. I cannot allow them to defile his memory.
“All of you, continue on and do what you can to end the war,” he told the group, watching the fire the whole time. “I will go and try to delay or stop those riders before they can find us or Turess. If I can I will catch up again. They will not find that tomb, if I have any say in the matter.”
“How would we go on without you?” Dalania asked, voicing Estin’s thoughts. “We have no idea where we’re going or what to do once we get there.”
“I have given Raeln what information he requires and Yoska can read the prophecies,” On’esquin said before unfastening the rolled parchments from his belt. With a look of doubt about his actions and a brief hesitation, the orc handed them to Yoska, who stared in confusion at the leather-bound papers.
Estin looked around at the somber expressions and realized they were actually considering letting On’esquin go alone. When no one else spoke up, he said firmly, “We came here because On’esquin made us come. We followed him without question until he passed the lead to Raeln, and they both have kept us alive…some even more than when we began. Why are we even thinking about making him do this by himself?”
“Raeln is your leader now. That choice was made a while ago in case this eventually came,” On’esquin reminded them.
“He’s right,” replied Raeln, giving Estin an apologetic glance. “It’s up to me to lead us the rest of the way. We each must make our own choices, and I will not hold him back if he feels he must go.”
Nodding, On’esquin pulled his spear onto his lap, running his fingers over the dry wood of its shaft. He stood slowly, bowing slightly to each of them in turn. “As my people said in times past, ‘May the storms never find you and let warmth be in your heart if not in your hearth,’” the orc said once he had bowed last to Raeln. “It has been my pleasure fighting beside each of you.”
Raeln growled softly and suddenly announced, “We’re leaving. Get your things. On’esquin may have to face this alone given the forces against us, but I will not let the Turessians have anything they want this badly. We’re going to keep them from that tomb. We ride in one hour. Rest if you can.”
On’esquin appeared deeply torn between wanting to object and wanting to thank Raeln, but Raeln ignored him, going to the edge of the tent to rest and meditate.
“I suppose I can wait,” On’esquin said to no one in particular, sitting back down. “If we ride hard, we can be there well ahead of them. Hours ahead, assuming they do not know exactly where the tomb is and given the speed undead walk at.”
Estin knew they would not have long to rest, so he took off his cloak and rolled it up to use as a pillow. He lay down and Feanne quickly slid over, putting herself in his arms, warming his heart as well as his body. They might not sleep in such a short period before they left, but being together made it more relaxing, something they both might need soon, given the force they would face.
Suddenly Feanne sat up, startling Estin in the process. She stared off into the swirling snow outside their makeshift shelter and slowly smiled, her eyes glowing faintly green before fading to their normal blue. “Everyone can rest as much as they need,” she announced, drawing confused stares from everyone. “The Miharon taught me how to hide myself in adverse weather. I can twist what he taught me and confuse the riders. They’ll be circling for hours.”
Raising her hand toward the entrance to the tent, Feanne closed her eyes and concentrated. For the first few seconds, Estin saw nothing change outside, but then suddenly the storm turned. The snow flew sideways for a moment before changing direction yet again. Every few seconds, the entire storm turned sharply in a random direction. It was startling each time it happened, making the tent shift dangerously.