by Jim Galford
Glaring at the dwarf in passing, Estin stepped into the dimly-lit tent, where furs lay in piles throughout. At one end of the tent, Lihuan sat reclining against a rolled up stack of animal furs. Unlike Feanne, his fur had faded to a mostly-grey color around his face, though hints of red still appeared in the torchlight in places. He wore a motley collection of furs and hides, though a beaded necklace like the one Estin had found at the duke’s keep adorned his neck. Several faint lines in his fur revealed ancient scars, likely from challengers.
“I believe you’ve already met my pet,” Lihuan stated, gesturing towards Finth. “He refuses to give us information regarding his masters, so I have been forced to keep him as a servant. It was hardly my first choice.”
“I think his first choice was to see if it really is possible to lick his own balls,” noted Finth, who then acted shocked. “Oh, is that an insult among your kind? So sorry.”
“I would be more offended if it were the first time you came up with that joke. I have asked you to at least be original.”
The dwarf shrugged and sat down hard on a pile of furs.
“I don’t have a lot of material to work with,” Finth griped, crossing his arms over his barrel chest. “You people are boring.”
“Ignoring our antisocial guest,” Lihuan said, sitting up with a soft crackle of old joints, “how can I help you? I am guessing you did not stop by simply to see how well I was sleeping.”
“No,” Estin said sadly, sitting down in front of the pack’s elder. “I am guessing you heard that Ghohar and the ogre died tonight?”
Lihuan’s eyes seemed to flare with a younger male’s fire, but he just said, “I had. I make it my business to know all the stories told in this camp. Despite this, Asrahn has not deemed it important enough to inform me yet. I would assume she is tending to the bodies before coming to me with this. I am no healer and often I am not told of these things until all has been arranged. Others prefer to take these duties on themselves.”
Estin set the scroll case on the ground between them.
“I found this among several wagons that had been attacked. Those manning them I believe were taken by a Turessian and used to create more undead. These are what attacked Ghohar and I. This scroll was all I found in the wagons that might tell us why.”
Lihuan leaned forward and picked up the case with his long claws, his eyes drifting over the paintings on the tube.
“You do not know much about the Turessians,” he said, as much a statement as a question. “They turn their ancestors into abominations. They have no reason to be in these lands.”
“I have seen them myself in the duke’s court.”
Lihuan looked up from the scroll tube, as though weighing Estin’s response.
“I am not saying you are wrong. I am saying that what we know of them would not lead them here. You believe this contains information that may explain why death-worshipers might be in Altis?”
“I do.” Estin glared at the scroll casing and then shook his head. “I cannot open it. Whatever is inside is all I have left that might tell me what Ghohar and the ogre died for.”
“We die because that is the way of life,” Lihuan explained, eyeing the lock carefully. “What is in here will not give you peace.”
Estin nodded.
“I know. I don’t expect it to.”
Prodding the lock with one of his claws, Lihuan glared at it briefly, then tossed the scroll tube in front of Finth.
“This design I have seen before,” Lihuan explained. “If I were to make a mistake, the mechanism would destroy the contents of the tube and might also burst into flames. I have no desire to burn myself this evening.”
Behind Estin, another person entered the tent quietly, taking a seat behind and off to one side of Estin. He sniffed instinctively, recognizing Asrahn.
“Asrahn, this youth has come to tell me of the deaths tonight.”
The elder feline growled something, then replied, “Yes, Lihuan. We have lost two spirits tonight. I was unable to bring them back. Ghohar is ready for the pyre in the morning. The ogre’s body is not accounted for, but we hope to find him by morning.”
“We had no healer out in the woods with them, I presume?”
Estin felt the tension in the room grow until Asrahn answered with a bite in her tone that told him she was barely maintaining a respectful tone.
“Lihuan, you know as well as I do that we lack healers. Would you have me go out with every patrol? There are no others and I am hardly young enough to keep up with them all. The last few you sent to me to train were hardly worth my time. They had no pity for the spirits they faced and no desire to help others.”
Estin turned and glanced at Asrahn, whose feline features were twisted in anger. He doubted anything more than respect for the pack-leader was keeping her from clawing at him, even at her age.
“What about Feanne’s mother?” Estin asked, watching for Lihuan’s reaction. “Feanne said that her mother was also a skilled healer.”
“Are you dense, child?” Asrahn asked, her anger lost in a quizzical glare. “I’m her mother.”
Estin blinked and stared at Asrahn, trying to make out the animal features that made her look somewhat less like a cat.
“Well this is just damned awkward,” blurted out Finth with a bellowing laugh. “The striped monkey didn’t even recognize the girl’s mom. That kind of thing makes one feel really stupid, eh, dummy?”
“Ignoring our guest, this is true,” said Lihuan, leaning back against the furs with a deep sigh. “Feanne is a half-breed, as are many of the young around here. It is not something we hide, but it appears it has been forgotten around the camp since Asrahn and I stopped being seen together. Times past, there were no packs, so it was often not possible to find another wildling of your own breed.”
Asrahn shot Lihuan a glare, but then softened as she told Estin, “My mother was a lioness and my father a fox. Feanne took only the attitude from my mother’s side. The looks she must blame her father for.”
Nodding, Lihuan gave Estin a hopeless look.
Estin glanced between the two elders, but lost his train of thought as a loud click cut through the silence in the room. He turned to Finth, who had something under his meaty arms.
“Show it to us,” ordered Lihuan, motioning to the dwarf.
Finth made a clearly fake look of surprise.
“Me?” he asked. “What do you mean?”
All three wildlings glared at him until he spit on the ground and pulled out the scroll case, the lock open and one end’s cap removed.
“It was an accident?” he tried half-heartedly, then tossed the tube onto the floor. “Damn it all, just read it. I was getting sick listening to animal family drama.”
Estin began to reach for the scroll, but Lihuan leaned forward and grabbed it first.
Sliding a single rolled piece of parchment from the rube, the elder fox examined it carefully, then checked the tube for anything further. He shook it and a flat piece of metal fell out into his palm.
“The king of Lantonne’s crest,” he noted, flipping the metal disc in his hand. “I would not have expected to find this within fifty miles of Altis’ lands. These tokens are sent as proof of importance with official documents. That would mean that this parchment comes from Lantonne, as did the people on those wagons.”
“The suspense is killing me,” muttered the dwarf, rolling his eyes.
Lihuan shot him a glance, noting, “One can hope.”
With care, Lihuan picked up the parchment roll with his claws, examining the outside and the large wax seal on it.
“Again, the king’s crest.” He tapped the wax seal. “The parchment itself is still dry. The casing was well closed, but as wet as it has been lately, the parchment would have still become damp if it were out there long. This was freshly abandoned.”
Asrahn touched Estin’s wrist, drawing his attention briefly. She motioned emphatically towards a leather strap that lay along the floor.
<
br /> Estin grabbed the long leather strap to hand it to her, but the cord went tight suddenly. Following the length, he saw Finth at the edge of the tent, stopped with the leather cord taught against his neck.
“Almost got out that time,” he muttered, stomping back over to sit with the others. “You’re getting sloppy.”
Lihuan smiled as he examined the scroll.
“No. I gave someone else the chance to choke you. Such joys should be shared.”
With a flick of his claw, Lihuan broke the wax circle that held the scroll closed. He unrolled it carefully, as though the paper might crumble at his touch. His eyes were impassive as he began reading, but a twitch near the corner of his eye gave away his surprise.
“We may have issues,” announced Lihuan, looking first to Asrahn, then to Estin. “This is a royal declaration of peace.
“At the beginning, the king of Lantonne admonishes Altis for their escalation of the recent war. You may or may not know, but this war is quite mutual and has been ongoing in some form for nearly three lifetimes.
“In this writing though, the king offers to pay Altis for all the damages they incurred in the course of the war, despite noting that Altis has been on the verge of falling for years. His request is simply a treaty of mutual peace, so long as Altis abides by one request.”
“Which is?” asked Estin.
“Apparently,” the elder answered, unrolling another section of the parchment, “Altis has signed another treaty. They have, according to this document, partnered with the Turessians to provide troops and security for Altis. Lantonne feels that they do not know the depth of danger in allowing the Turessians to act without limitation in their efforts to supplement the army. It would seem that Lantonne believes Altis is losing its identity to their guests.”
“So the creepy corpse-lovers are giving Altis help, which everyone else in the realm considers a really bad idea. Who cares?” grumbled the dwarf, picking something out of his beard. “I couldn’t care less, so long as they aren’t in my house…tent…this place.”
“That is where you underestimate,” Lihuan replied, but also gave Finth’s leash a tug, throwing him off-balance. “The last section of the missive reads, ‘They will use you and your citizens for their own ends, as has been seen in other lands.’ It even goes on to list eight other kingdoms that allied with the Turessians and are now considered their serfs. It would appear Lantonne would give up the war in favor of just having the Turessians leave.”
The tent was quiet as they contemplated, with Estin wondering just how deep the hole he had walked into had become. One day he had no idea that Altis was in trouble, the next there were Turessian diplomats in the duke’s halls, and now talk of necromancers overthrowing a government.
“How big of a threat are they?” Estin asked of whoever could answer.
Lihuan spoke first, his cool eyes studying Estin as he spoke. He seemed to do that to each person he addressed, sizing them up, as if he were contemplating many other things while speaking.
“If they just sent a few necromancers, it is troublesome, but the duke can easily send them away or execute them. The weakest link with necromancy is always the caster.”
“That may not be accurate here,” interrupted Asrahn. “This is not just someone protecting a business deal. The clans of Turessi would not wipe out a diplomatic caravan just to hide their business arrangements. While I was tending to Ghohar, Estin told me that the Turessian was still standing after wounds that should have killed it.”
Lihuan appeared to consider this, though he kept his eyes on Finth.
“How grave were its wounds?”
Estin chilled at the memory, but related the various magical attacks from Ghohar, the sword through the Turessian’s chest, and the severed hand. With each item, Lihuan’s mood seemed to darken.
“Turessians do not change their own, except in honor of their service in life and even then, they remain with their tribe. If you fought one wearing their robes who is turned, that would be very strange and does not fit with what I know of the Turessians.”
“Have you dealt with them much, pack-leader?”
Lihuan regarded Estin coolly, then pointed out the slave scars that were just barely visible on his shoulder—a match for the ones Asrahn had shown him earlier.
“I know what it is like to live in their lowest caste and be delegated to working in a copper mine to pay off a debt for having stolen bread. That is not to say I know everything about them, just more than most in these areas.”
Scraping from nearby drew their attention back to Finth, who was scratching his back with an ornately-carved walking stick.
“Do you seriously have no manners whatsoever?” asked Lihuan, as though talking to a child. “I honestly cannot tell if you are mad, or if you are trying to make me so.”
“I’m sober and have no idea what to do with myself,” he answered, tossing the cane aside. “Been almost a month sober. Do you have any idea what that does to a dwarf?”
“I know what your actions will do to a dwarf…Ulra, please remove him.”
The back of the tent opened abruptly, as though the bear had been waiting for the command. She reached in and grabbed Finth with a large paw as he screamed and tried to scramble away.
“Bathe him and teach him to be less ignorant,” Lihuan told her and the far larger wildling bowed her head slightly, then dragged Finth from the tent.
“She honestly has been hoping I would give him up soon,” Lihuan explained to Estin. “She seems to think dwarves are a lot like her own children. Bulky, overbearing, and in need of a mother’s firm hand. I protected him as long as I could.”
Estin clenched his jaw, trying not to laugh at the idea of Ulra washing the dwarf and treating him like a cub. He figured that was the least that could happen to one of Nyess’ servants.
“Now, what to do about all of this?” asked Lihuan in general, though likely as much to himself as to the others present. He paused as Finth’s vague threats and curses drifted in, then continued without comment, “The duke is unlikely to listen to us, as evidenced by Feanne’s attempts. We are much too far from Lantonne to advise them, not that they are more likely to accept us into their walls. Unless either of you has a better plan, I believe for now I would like to keep this secret and use the knowledge to prepare the pack and be ready for changes in the local mood.”
Estin was unsure whether he really had any right to speak his thoughts to the pack’s leader and glanced at Asrahn for support. She ignored him pointedly.
“I would ask something,” she inquired of Lihuan, ears perking slightly.
Lihuan lifted a brow and cocked his head.
“It has been a long time since you did much more than disagree with me behind my back and give rise to challengers to my authority. This I wish to hear. Speak.”
“You have the authority here to order anyone of the right mindset to take a profession. I have received requests from the gatherers, as well as several of the cooks to have Estin join their ranks. While useful, I feel it would be far more beneficial for the camp to have someone new studying healing magic. I believe this will be essential if we are to fight the Turessian undead, unless you expect me to lead the battle. Would you agree, my pack-leader?”
“Do not call me that, female,” he snarled back at her. “I have been your mate for longer than most of the pack has lived and nearly a generation longer than there was a pack. You know as well as I do that we have had need of younger healers for years and our last attempts to train someone went badly. Those two that you trained last year can barely fix a sprained ankle. Have you a new plan for this one, I take it? Or are you just claiming each new member of the pack?”
Estin noticed Asrahn’s glance at him and went immediately defensive.
“Wait, no! I’m a really bad warrior, but that’s what I’m built for. Magic is not my thing. I can help the hunters…”
“No?” Lihuan asked, his face going stern and his eyes cold. “Did you just tel
l me…no?”
“I…sort of…”
“Estin Ringtail, you will either submit to Asrahn’s decision and attempt to learn, or I will banish you from this pack. This was not a discussion. If you doubt whether I will do it, please say no again. If you fail to learn, we will find a new role for you, but so long as there is hope that you can learn anything, I am placing you under Asrahn’s control. Understood?”
Working his mouth to try and argue, Estin could only stare at those cold eyes that seemed to bore through him. For a moment, he remembered a similar look his mother had given him when he had thrown a rock at his sister as a child…though his mother had been holding him off the ground by the scruff of his neck at the time.
“I’ll do what I can,” he finally gave in, letting his head hang. There was no sense in hiding how he felt. “I promised to help the pack as I’m able. If I can learn to heal, I will.”
Asrahn practically cackled beside him, clapping her hands happily. She snatched a quill, ink, and a scrap of old parchment from a pile of miscellaneous items at one side of the tent and began scratching out something.
“Why do I feel like I’ve just written a death sentence for you?” Lihuan inquired, trying to see what his mate was writing. “Asrahn…dear…what are you doing? Do not make me go back on the pledge I just dragged out of this child.”
“Now that you are bound to Lihuan’s command,” she mumbled, scribbling one final note, then folding up the parchment tightly, “I will use that to my own ends…though it rather was to begin with. Regardless, your first task as my apprentice will be to learn things from others in the camp. Each person I send you to will be able to educate you on something that will make learning magic from me far easier.
“You will take this note to each in turn, without reading it yourself. If you do, I’ll find out. You will do what they tell you to do without question. You only need know that what you are doing is essential to the survival of the pack. I’ll tell you how at a later time.”
Estin took the offered parchment and looked over at Lihuan, who was rubbing his temples and suppressing chuckles.