by Jim Galford
Estin woke gradually the next morning, far more slowly than he had in a long time. His body wanted him to stay where he was, lingering in sleep for a while longer. It was a good exhaustion.
His lapse back towards dreams came abruptly to a halt when he realized he was alone. He felt around in the dark, but Feanne was nowhere to be found. The bear skin was cold where she had been when he had fallen asleep, though he could still smell her, both nearby and on himself.
Grabbing his clothing and yanking it on as quickly as he could, Estin moved towards the entrance of the cave, forgetting completely about the bear that had been there the night before. Luckily, the animal was not in the cave any longer and Feanne sat near the entrance, staring out into the snow-covered world beyond.
“Good morning,” Estin told her, approaching from one side. “How long have you been up?”
Feanne shrugged and stared at the snow, rubbing her arms for warmth.
“I woke a while ago to check on the bear, but found that we were loud enough to drive her off. At first that made me laugh, but then I began thinking about the reactions of others. Now, I am dreading what will happen when we return,” she said, brows furrowing in thought. “They smashed your tent for coming too close to the wrong food. Have you given any thought what all of this would earn you?”
“Don’t really care.”
“I do. I promised not to let you get hurt by my actions and I intend to carry through on that. Estin, we will not speak of this. Please do not think that is for lack of my feelings, but I do not want harm to come to you over my being…forward. I have no regrets, but I would not see you hurt for this. Will you promise me to never speak of this inside the camp?”
Estin blinked as she turned her eyes to him. She seemed genuinely worried, not upset about what they had done. Just concerned.
“I promise that I will say nothing, at least until I know we’re safe,” he promised, taking her hand. She shied away slightly, but did not pull her hand free. “That’s the most I can offer. I care too much about you to hide it forever. Just so long as you promise this is not an end for us.”
Feanne batted her eyes, laughing at him.
“I will accept that. Just know that I will not be coming to camp any more often…changing my behavior would draw too much attention.”
“Then I’ll come to the wilds.”
She smiled up at him and squeezed his hand happily.
“We need to get back, or Asrahn will believe you failed your trial. I was supposed to have you back days ago.”
Estin helped her up, then realized that she had placed something in his hand. Opening his fingers, he found the folded parchment from Asrahn. It was damp and weather-beaten, but recognizable.
“Your next teacher is Asrahn herself,” Feanne explained, reminding him that he was supposed to bring that note to each teacher. “There may be more after that, I would not know, but she is next.”
“Given how well this training went, I can hardly wait,” he said, jokingly. “If all my teachers are female, I may be the happiest member of the pack before long.”
Feanne stuck her tongue out at him and gave him a shove that took him off his feet.
“Not funny, Estin. Not funny.”
He laughed at her annoyed expression and held up a hand to be helped up. She obliged, pulling him easily from the floor of the cave. She pulled him close, tapping his nose with hers, holding him tight for a while.
“Follow me closely,” she told him eventually, glancing out at the snow again. “There will be a lot of areas where an avalanche might occur after a sudden snowfall like that. We need to be careful until we get farther down.”
Feanne pulled away and began hopping through the snow, her footing sure as she left the cave.
Grabbing Feanne’s cloak and taking off after her, Estin ran through the deep snow, barely noticing the cold and wet. He was too filled with elation to care.
Whether Feanne said anything publically or not, he knew at that moment that he was hers for as long as she would have him. No one had ever made his heart race the way she did and he had never even considered anyone as more than a night’s company. Her, he wanted to be with, no matter the restrictions. Having to hide it only made it more exciting.
Even the thought of begging her to be his mate crossed his mind briefly, until he realized that she would not risk that anytime soon. In that moment, Estin decided that even if he could not talk with her about being mates, he would treat her as though she were his mate. There would be no other, so long as she was in his life.
Watching Feanne run ahead of him, Estin found himself smiling, no matter the cold.
They ran onward for almost an hour, taking sharp detours through the mountains when Feanne detected a dangerous stretch. This lengthened their return even more than the snow itself did, taking them the better part of a day to reach the first sighting of the camp.
When the camp came into sight, Feanne was first to stop, staring at it.
“I cannot go in,” she said abruptly, starting to turn to leave. “Just go without me…I should not see my mother right now.”
Estin caught her arm and held her.
“If you run off, that’ll be more telling, since you’re supposed to be returning me to her.”
Glowering, Feanne agreed with him, leaning close and nuzzling his face briefly. As she did, Estin looked down at the long scars down her arm, the perfect match for his own. He had begun to think of them the same way Asrahn spoke of the markings she shared with her mate. They at least spoke of a distant bond that he shared with Feanne, if nothing else.
“I want to see you again, soon,” she said softly, licking his cheek, then whispering near his ear, “Come visit me in the grove. I’ll try to be there most nights. No one goes there at night anymore but me. We will not need to hide there.”
She pulled away then and started towards the camp again, albeit more slowly.
As they neared the western tents, a patrol of younger wolves and a coyote came out to greet them, raising their hands in acknowledgement while still far off.
“Feanne and Estin?” called out one of the wolves, squinting at them in the bright light that reflected off the snow. “You are both wanted immediately. Feanne, Lihuan requests you at his tent. Estin, please go to Asrahn. They have been waiting for your return and grow impatient.”
Feanne shot Estin a terrified look, but then put back on her appearance of calm strength and poise, following one of the wolves off towards Lihuan’s tent. Another gestured for Estin to follow him, which he did.
Following the wolf through the camp rather more swiftly than he would expect for a casual meeting, Estin tried asking questions and making small talk, but the wolf just grunted a few unhelpful answers and led him onward.
They came around a section of tents that had a tendency to block any easy access to the middle of camp, allowing Estin to see well into the southern section. Near the far edge, his eyes caught sight of five large blue wagons. From where he was, he could not see the occupants or anything else near there.
Now nervous, Estin was happy to see Asrahn’s tent in the distance and accelerated his pace, hurrying inside without the wolf having time to announce him.
“What’s happened?” he asked as he barged in, finding Asrahn seated on a large cushion with a cup of tea, looking up in surprise as he entered.
“I could ask you the same,” Asrahn replied testily. “You were to return well before the storm. As it was, that would have been longer than we could wait in the circumstances. Coming back now is just…difficult.”
“And why is that?”
Asrahn gave a curt jerk of her head to Estin’s right, drawing his attention to two human men and a woman, who were seated on cushions, also holding tea. All were heavily draped in cold-weather garments, but what he could see through gaps at buttons and elsewhere of their clothing was all silk and embroidered fabrics. All three had deeply-lined faces and dark skin.
“This is the one you seek, B
andoleer Yoska,” Asrahn said to the eldest of the humans, raising her teacup towards Estin. “His name is Estin. He was the one who last came from Altis.”
The addressed man stood slowly, handing off his cup to the other man.
“You have seen my Varra?” he asked pointedly, his dialect thick, but easily recognizable as the same one Varra had spoke with. “We get description of long-tailed monkey. When we wish to ask little rat man for more information, we find him gone and no one can tell us where he is. This makes me worry about my daughter, yes?”
Estin fumbled for words, not having been prepared for this. He had thought about what he would say for quite a long time, but had finally forgotten about it in the last week. Now, all those pre-planned conversations were gone from his mind, replaced with thoughts of Feanne that were not helping him at the moment.
“I…we…I mean,” he stammered, scratching at one of his ears nervously, “Varra was killed by the duke’s men.”
Asrahn closed her eyes, sighing as she swept the teapot that lay in front of her out of the way as the other two gypsies leapt to their feet and drew weapons.
“This…this is not good news,” advised the elder man, clasping his hands behind him. “Tell me now why I should not believe that you killed her and now seek to blame the city humans? Answer wisely, or you risk the wrath of the clan coming down on this camp.”
“Bandoleer,” interjected Asrahn, “please work with us. We will resolve this, but threatening bloodshed is not wise for either party.”
“Simply because there are twenty of us and nearly four times that many of you?” he asked her.
“That would be a starting point.”
“Not a concern when it comes to vengeance. I will sacrifice every cousin I have to avenge my child if I must.”
The man stepped up to Estin, his eyes intense enough that it felt as though they were boring into Estin’s mind.
“Where is my daughter’s body?”
Estin thought through half a dozen lies, but then looked into the man’s eyes and found that he needed to tell the truth. It was strangely relieving, knowing that he would carry one less secret with him. He only hoped that he would not get himself or anyone else killed for it. Somehow, he was more worried about Feanne’s reaction than his own life.
“Your daughter died trying to escape the keep with me. A Turessian necromancer separated us and was able to strike her down before I could aid. I could not find a way to save her or free her body. The fault is entirely mine.”
The gypsy’s forehead tightened, but he remained silent at first, studying Estin. Estin had a distinct feeling the man was looking for any deception. Estin began to think the man could search his very spirit for a lie and was thankful that he had not told one.
“Whether you helped her or not, she is dead, while you are not, no?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Cousins,” the gypsy bandoleer said, half-turning to the others, “Prepare the caravan for war.”
“Please, Bandoleer!” said Asrahn, standing too.
“The guilt is mine,” Estin said firmly, standing his ground between the gypsies and the tent’s only exit. “The rest of the camp shares no guilt. They did not even know me then, nor were they hiding me from you. If you want vengeance, I am standing right here.”
The bandoleer narrowed his eyes, but held up a hand to the others.
“If you lie, you do it well. As you would have it…you alone will face the fate we intended for all of the others. Do not bother to run, we can find you and really do not need to for the fate we will bring down on you and your line.”
“There is no line,” Estin corrected softly. “I am the last of my kind that I know of. I accept whatever you have in store for me. I will not run. I just ask that you allow me to fulfill Varra’s last wish.”
The bandoleer waved his hand invitingly.
Estin reached back on his belt and pulled the goblet around to the front to unfasten it. As he fumbled with the knot, he watched as Varra’s father collapsed onto the dirt floor and his “cousins” did nothing to aid him. They were all staring at Estin.
“Is that…that is not!” mumbled the bandoleer, his eyes on the goblet. “This is what Varra was after?”
“Yes. We climbed the duke’s keep to get it from one of the top floors.”
He finally got the knot loose and held the goblet out to the gypsies.
“Do you know what this is?” asked the gypsy woman, even as the bandoleer took the goblet from his outstretched hand. “Do you understand at all?”
“No idea. Varra never told me. She just sent it with me at the end, when she doubled back to slow the duke’s men. All she told me was that it had been stolen from you and that I needed to get out of the keep at any cost, then she stayed behind to ensure my escape.”
The bandoleer turned the cup over and over in his hands, his calloused fingers tracing the patterns on it.
“This,” he said softly, almost as though speaking to the goblet itself, “is the cup that founded our clan. It represents the unity and family connection that we all share. Among my people, this is beyond worth. A worthwhile thing to die for, no?”
“She told me that it was what she was doing to be recognized as an adult in the clan.”
His eyes going wide, the bandoleer stared up at Estin, his hands still stroking the goblet.
“No…no! That is not so. We sent her to find something of worth to the clan. Worth can mean many things, but it does not mean to dive into the enemy’s lair and steal a priceless artifact. She could not have made that mistake.”
“I will never know what she believed, but that is what she told me.”
Estin waited patiently as the bandoleer tied the goblet to his own belt and stood once more.
The man walked up to Estin, facing him with the same stern face he had displayed during their introductions.
“Estin of the wildlings,” he said, some of the letters sounding strained through his dialect, “you have cost me a daughter.”
“Yes, I have.”
“You have also returned to us something that is nearly as valuable as kin to my people.”
“Yes.”
“If my daughter has been made into one of the…how you say…monsters, undead, abomination, or whatever you say, what will you do about it?”
Estin mulled that over, then answered, “If it is within my power, I will destroy her, no matter who she was. Varra is gone, if that is what she’s become. If that is against your ways, I am sorry. I will only tell you the truth.”
He waited for the hammer to fall, for some horrific ending to the meeting, but it never came. Instead the bandoleer nodded gravely and motioned for the others to stand.
“I would drink with you someday soon,” noted the man, hugging Estin abruptly then kissing both sides of Estin’s muzzle in some kind of strange ritual. Yoska then placed a hand on Estin’s left shoulder. “You have a spirit I do not see much in those who do not live on the roads. Perhaps someday, you may be considered our cousin, if only in name, yes?”
Estin smiled back at him, placing his own hand on the man’s left shoulder, hoping that was the correct reply.
“I hope that to be so, one day. You honor me with your forgiveness.”
With a curt nod, the bandoleer started out of the tent, then stopped and turned back to Asrahn.
“You have good tea, but is not gypsy tea. We shall drink tomorrow, yes?”
“Tomorrow?” Asrahn asked, looking surprised.
“Yes, unless we have worn out our welcome already?”
“Not at all. Please, stay as long as you like.”
The man smiled and departed, the others leaving with him.
“That…was nearly a disaster,” gasped Asrahn, burying her face in her hands. “Do you have any idea how badly it could have gone had they decided to harm the camp?”
“No, but that was not their intent. They wanted Varra’s killer and vengeance. If they cannot have him, I was willing to accept
that fate.”
Asrahn looked up at him with a touch of surprise.
“Humility is not something my Feanne teaches,” she observed, chuckling. “You’ve been hiding that trait from me. Well done, child.”
Estin sat down across from her, breathing his own sigh of relief.
“I’ve not dealt with the gypsies directly, other than Varra. I had no idea what to expect.”
“You aren’t the only one, child. Last gypsy I spent more than a minute around was almost twenty years ago. She was hot-headed and badly-tempered.”
Asrahn offered him a steaming cup of tea, which he readily accepted. The warm liquid was not strongly flavored, but the heat was welcome after the freezing run back to camp.
“Now, how did the training go? Judging by the blood on your shirt and vest, I believe my Feanne did not go easy on you.”
Estin produced the folded parchment from his pouch, while taking another sip.
“Superb,” Asrahn whispered, glancing inside the paper, then closing it back up and tucking it into a pile of loose parchment near the tea kettle. She sniffed softly as she slid the kettle aside, then frowned deeply. “You have more than surpassed our hopes, Estin. And just in time, too.”
“What?” He set down the cup hurriedly. “Just in time for what? Have we been attacked?”
Asrahn’s face darkened and she looked her age for the moment.
“The gypsies were not our only visitors while you left. Lihuan is dealing with the others, though they were growing impatient for your return. We should have plenty of time to start your training tonight, though Feanne will not be able to join us…”
“Where is Feanne? What is going on?”
Asrahn froze, eyeing him peculiarly, giving another soft sniff.
“She is hopefully being a responsible daughter, though if I have my guesses, Lihuan will be coming to yell at me later about her running off. If not…well, then he has finally gotten his way. This has been a long-standing quarrel, which we hope will end today.”
Estin’s heart went cold, even more than the storm had managed to chill him. Throwing down the teacup, he took to his feet, racing off into the heart of the camp, jumping tent ropes and sidestepping the other wildlings in his way.