In Wilder Lands

by Jim Galford

  “When I…I came to the city…I…what was I saying?”

  Feanne abruptly leaned back against the wall, seemingly dazed, then fell completely over, leaving a large streak of blood on the wall.

  “I…,” she looked around frantically, her eye out of focus, “…where am I?”

  Scrambling over to her, Estin found that she was cold to the touch and all of her wounds were bleeding worse than he had realized. She barely moved as he touched her. He examined the injury over her eye and could feel intense heat radiating off of it, the only noticeable heat at all from her.

  “You’ve almost bled to death,” Estin told her gravely, looking around for something to tie off the wounds. There were just too many and several were in places he wasn’t sure he could properly bandage with anything he might find around the warehouse. “We won’t be going anywhere with the fever you’ve got. You’ll be lucky to stand on your own. How did you even get this far?”

  “Leave me here,” Feanne replied, smiling absently up at him. She seemed to be half-asleep as she stroked the feathers of the necklace tied to her arm. “I came to Altis to die for my people. One way is as good as another. Have mother tuck me in…”

  “Feanne,” he prodded, giving her a little shake. Her eye focused for a moment, then began to glaze again. “Feanne, you need to stay awake. Can you magic yourself healthy again or something?”

  She giggled, burying her face in the bear fur.

  “No, my magic does not work that way. I am not a healer, Estin. My mother can do much more than I ever will be able to. Healing is hard work. Did you know she makes a nice rabbit stew? Rabbits are hard to catch…”

  Estin winced, realizing that the fever was a lot further along than she had led him to believe. He suddenly wondered if she had hid among the warehouse boxes in order to die alone where she would not be found. He had heard of wildlings doing that, especially those from the wilds. Her agreement to travel again in the morning now stunk of delays so that she would no longer be a burden by the time he was ready to go on.

  “Feanne, do you remember what you did for me back at the kennels?”

  She stuck out her tongue and squirmed, wiping at her face as though swatting away flies. Feanne did not ever react when she rubbed at the swelling around her eye, the pain apparently not getting through the fever’s stupor.

  “That was silly magic,” she mumbled. “Makes the hurt go somewhere else.”

  “Can you do it again and give me back my injuries?”

  She rolled onto her back and stared at him, her eye drifting past him repeatedly.

  “Maybe,” Feanne replied, her face straining with concentration. “So tired. Can I have a blanket?”

  “Just do it, please!”

  Her hand shaking, Feanne reached up and took hold of the fur along his neck. She whispered the same words as earlier, though they were faint and breathy as she struggled with the spell, taking a long time to cast it, unlike the brief moment it had taken the first time.

  Sudden warmth flared in Estin’s neck where she touched him, then rushed out from there, chilling his body. Pain followed, as his flesh tore itself open in many places and he felt his head spin as a wave of nausea raced through him.

  Estin gagged and collapsed, his heart racing and his body wracked with pain. He could barely think through the stinging and burning wounds and the sensation that the world was spinning. The next thing he saw was Feanne, kneeling over him. She had both eyes open now, though her left eye socket was still swollen and the eye was bloodshot.

  “Can you hear me, Estin?” she asked slowly, trying to meet his eyes, but Estin found it hard to focus on her. “I believe that I may have overdone the spell. My fever is gone.”

  Estin nodded, though he really had no idea what she was talking about. He really just wanted to sleep. The stone floor under him felt cool, but he was getting terribly warm. He curled up, trying to make the world stop spinning.

  “Sleep now, Estin,” she said, touching his forehead. “I will make sure you live to see the dawn.”

  Estin really hated the dawn. Maybe she would wake him when it was dark. He could only hope.

  Muttering to himself, Estin flopped his tail over his face as he drifted towards sleep. The pain was finally going away, though it was terribly warm in the warehouse. He wished someone would open a window, though at least his mother was being nice enough to pet his face as he drifted off.

  At least his mother…

  Chapter Three

  “The Wilds”

  Within the dream, after watching mother get dragged around by the metal leash, it was then that father would burst into the room, coming from outside. He was covered in soot and had cuts on his arms and chest, as well as bloody spots on his fur that told of other injuries that I could not see, or possibly just did not remember. With only a growling shout at the man, he launched himself at the intruder, struggling solely for the chain that held mother. His single-minded focus kept his attention off the man’s club, which struck him hard across the brow.

  Stumbling to his knees, father looked up into my eyes as a second blow to his back flattened him. He mouthed one thing, even as I saw the club coming down over his head.

  “Hide!”

  Everything in the dream becomes a blur then. I always faintly hear the wet cracks as the man murdered my father, but I was so confused, so lost, that I could not think clearly. It would take me years to convince myself of what I heard, but in the dream I would dive back into my part of the home and tuck myself into my blankets, cowering in the darkest corner of the room. It seems a foolish place now, but the man apparently did not see me, or he never looked.

  Hours or days passed, both within the dream and when it originally happened. Time was a blur, but I knew I felt the warmth of at least one day pass. All I could see was the inside of that blanket, as I lay there trembling. It was not until I began to smell death around me that I knew I had to leave my corner—no one was coming to help me. Maybe they had decided to save themselves…maybe I was the last one alive.

  Estin woke slowly, a strange bouncing sensation jostling him to consciousness. He could see sunlight overhead, though it was filtered, as though through a canopy. As his eyes were having trouble focusing on anything, he could not be sure exactly what was above him, other than that it appeared to be moving.

  He tried to roll onto his side and found that he could not move. Snug straps were fastened over his chest and legs, holding him to what felt like a hammock draped between two supports on either side of him.

  Panicking slightly, he struggled to see what was moving around him, only to realize that he was moving backwards through the woods. The sensation of sliding the wrong direction through an unknown location made Estin’s stomach lurch.

  “Are you awake?” asked Feanne’s voice behind him. She sounded strained and exhausted.

  “I think so,” Estin answered, letting his head fall back onto the cloth that was holding him off the ground. A simple litter made from sticks and cloth, he quickly realized. Atop him was Feanne’s bear skin, keeping him warm. “I feel sick and weak and I think I’m going to throw up.”

  He looked around, realizing that the bustle of the city was long gone. They were moving through the woods now, the massive older pines creating a canopy over them, while the trunks created the sensation of walking through an unending room of columns—though even with the close confines of the woods, Estin had a nerve-wracking feeling of being in a huge open space. It was not something he was used to at all.

  The ground that his litter was being dragged through was coated with a thick layer of pine needles that left a trail leading back behind them, where the poles dragged.

  “I doubt you could throw up again,” she told him, grunting as she pulled his litter over several rocks, bouncing him. “Since we cleared the walls, I believe your stomach is more than empty. Still, we will be able to rest soon. Until we can get you to a healer or tend to your infection for several days, you will be danger
ously ill.”

  “Where are we? How did we get out here?”

  Feanne stopped walking and eased the litter onto the ground. She stepped around to the side so that Estin could see her without twisting his head around, sitting down beside him.

  “Your fever…my fever, I suppose, got much worse.” She placed a hand on his forehead briefly. “It seems to be down somewhat now, which is good.

  “I took what you said about the ambush and used a strategy my father taught me. People who are looking for someone will always watch the place they expect them, as well as the last place the target should be. They rarely look in nearby spots. This was true today. There was a squad of dwarves on the wall, hidden and waiting for us in the southwest corner. I took us through the southern section—not very far from the gates—with no real resistance.”

  “Clever. You made it out without anyone seeing you?”

  “That I won’t claim,” she corrected, tightening one of the straps that held him to the supporting poles of the litter. “There were two young elves who tried to shoot me with arrows. I must say that I am considerably faster than they were, now that I feel more alert.”

  “Are they dead?”

  Feanne shook her head.

  “I did not want any more reasons for them to send extra troops after us. I simply broke their bows and beat them with the remains.”

  “Simply?”

  “Yes. Simply.”

  “Remind me never to draw a bow on you, Feanne.”

  She snickered and patted his neck.

  “You would be wise not to draw any weapon on me, regardless of the reason. As I recall, I have gotten us past ten city guards, whereas you have defeated one dwarf who had his back turned.”

  “You mean you and whatever you called to help us back there in the street.”

  Feanne’s smile fell away instantly and she stood back up.

  “Yes, that is what I meant. We should move on.”

  She walked past where he lay and quickly padded fifty feet or so back along their path. Feanne then turned around and walked back towards Estin slowly, dragging her feet slightly to even back out the pine needles. If Estin stared hard enough, he could see where the lines had been, but he doubted he could find them otherwise. Somehow, Feanne made hiding their path look remarkably easy.

  “We will go over rocks for a little while,” she said as though answering a question Estin had not thought of yet. “They cannot track us there. Once we have crossed a nearby stream, we will be able to move more freely without fear.”

  She grabbed the poles of the makeshift stretcher and lifted Estin off the ground and began dragging him through the woods again. True to her word, seconds later she was yanking the litter over uneven rocks and hard ground that made his stomach leap with each bump.

  “Stop, stop!” he begged, silently thanking the universe for its mercy when she did stop moving. “I’ll find a way to walk. Just let me get off this thing.”

  Feanne grunted something that sounded derisive, but she did lower the poles to the ground again. She came around to his other side and hooked the straps with her claws and cut them one at a time. It was then that he noticed for the first time that he was weaponless, though he did still have his pouches and the goblet Varra had given him.

  “Can you get up?” she asked, offering her hand. “As bad as the fever was this morning, I doubt this is a good idea.”

  “I’m fine. Much better now. Where are my weapons?”

  “I threw them off the walls of the city for fun.”

  He honestly could not be sure if she was joking or serious, so Estin just closed his mouth.

  Estin forced his aching joints to pull him upright out of pure stubbornness, but then the world began spinning and he stumbled, catching himself on a tree. Bile rose in his throat, threatening to make him vomit.

  “We will move slowly,” Feanne offered, draping the bear skin over his shoulders and taking his hand. She led him towards a creek that passed through the rocky soil nearby. “It will not be too much farther yet.”

  They walked across the uneven stones, with Feanne supporting far more of Estin’s weight than he cared to admit. Before long, she had to put her arm around him to keep him from collapsing, but she did it without telling him he was an idiot, which he appreciated. He knew he was being foolish by trying to stay on his own feet, but hated to feel so weak when Feanne had been strong through far worse over the last day.

  As they progressed, Estin sniffed the air, trying to learn what was around them, if only to distract him from the nausea he was suffering. He recognized the pines, but a thousand other scents confused him and blurred together. Some were likely flowers, some animal, some he simply had no idea. Having not left the city in so many years, everything out here was alien to him, drowning his mind in new scents that he had no way to sort out.

  Struggling to make sense of all the things his nose picked up, Estin tried to center his thoughts and managed to pick out strong familiar aromas in an effort to piece things out one at a time. The rich smell of Feanne’s heavily-oiled leather vest and loincloth was easy to latch onto as a singular point in the sea of scents. Once he smelled that, he separated her unique scent from that of the leather, making a note of it so that he could recognize her more easily. It was a heavy woody smell of fur, mixed with the oils of the leather that had stained her fur, along with the more bitter additions of blood and one other item that he could not quite pick out. He was sure it was animal, but it was distinct from the leather and from Feanne herself. It smelled vaguely fox-like, but could have just been another wildling, or even a different breed of fox.

  “Are you mated?” he asked without thinking, trying to identify the other scent. “I smell…”

  Feanne dropped him face-first on the stones, where he lay, too weak to roll over or stand.

  “Estin, there are some things you have no right to even ask,” she barked at him and for a moment he thought she would kick him, but she threw up her hands in annoyance. “I am not, though not for lack of trying by my father. There are no suitable males in the pack and we have more important concerns, such as survival, for me to be concerned with being bound to a male for breeding or bragging rights. You especially have no right asking as an outsider to the pack.”

  “I wasn’t trying…not implying…,” he stammered, still unsure if she would strike. “I just smelled another animal and thought…”

  “You thought you smelled another wildling,” she finished for him, her posture calming considerably. “Now I understand. No, that is not what you smelled. It was the helper that I called in to help us in the city street. It leaves a scent that most of our kind find disturbing. I had nearly forgotten about it.”

  Feanne quickly slid under his arm and hoisted him back to his feet.

  “I am sorry, Estin. I fear I am doing as much damage to you as the dogs did. Perhaps you should avoid traveling with me in the future.”

  He laughed at her, while trying to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

  “Feanne, I’ve spent six years in a city where I was barely more than cattle. I’d rather have you beat me on a daily basis than go back to living in a town that’s killing people and turning them into undead for the army.”

  “I will ask if you still feel that way after several cold nights out here,” chided the fox-woman, smirking at him. “Your walls stopped the wind quite nicely. Out here, your fur alone will barely keep you alive.”

  “You keep making this sound like a big mistake.”

  Feanne tilted her head slightly, as though considering.

  “No, I think this was good for you. I just do not think you will find it all as wonderful in the future as you do right now.”

  She stopped them then, just at the edge of the water.

  “Have you ever been in a mountain stream before?” she inquired, glancing over at him.

  “No, but I’ve been in the sewers more than I care to. How much worse could mud be?”

&nbs
p; “It is not the mud that will bother you.” She eased one of her feet into the water, while holding him upright on the shore. “These waters come from snow higher in the peaks. I am afraid we must cross to get to the pack’s camp.”

  Estin stepped into the water and very nearly went into shock. He had been out in the winter weather back in Altis each year, but when he had been cold enough, he could always find an abandoned building to hide in. This water, though, was as cold or colder than anything he had ever experienced, or at least felt that way after walking along in cool but pleasant air.

  Flinching and fighting his muscles, Estin forced himself to take another step into the water, following Feanne’s guidance deeper. They moved very slowly across the narrow creek, the fast-moving water rising steadily to his knees as his feet went completely numb.

  Feanne was steady in her movements and strength, even as he shook violently. She seemed to notice this and promised, “You do get used to it eventually. It takes time.”

  “Not really believing right now,” Estin answered with his teeth chattering.

  Seconds later, she led him up onto the shore, where he tried to lay down. She stopped him, practically pulling him along as she kept walking.

  “You will not want to rest just yet. The water will freeze once the sun sets, so we need to keep moving to dry out. Once we get to camp, there will be small fires and plenty of pelts to warm you.”

  He turned his head slightly to look at Feanne, her face only inches away. It was an odd feeling for him, not having been within five feet of another wildling for most of his life and now to be practically carried through the woods by the most remarkable of his people he had met. All the others he had seen were broken beings, their individuality destroyed by the leashes they had worn most of their lives. Feanne was so unlike that that he found himself wanting to know so much more about her.