In Wilder Lands

by Jim Galford

  “We do not speak like that in this home,” the bear reminded the dwarf firmly. “Show some degree of politeness, or the ale goes away.”

  “Right…forgot about that. Will do, boss.”

  Finth turned his attention to Estin again, his eyes dark with loathing.

  “What do I get for helping you?”

  “You get my assurance that once this is over, I will go back with you to Nyess, so long as you try your hardest to make this happen. If you complete the task I set, I will go anywhere you wish.”

  Finth pondered that…far longer than Estin felt comfortable with.

  “Decide, or I leave without you. This is time-critical.”

  “Yes, yes. I’m coming.”

  Groaning, Finth got to his feet and wandered over, giving Doln a polite wave.

  “I’ll be back for dinner,” he told the wildling, then followed Estin out of the tent.

  “What the high hells do you need me for, anyway?”

  Estin motioned to the south, saying, “A group of foxes just took Feanne against her will. I intend to bring her back.”

  “Against her will? That girl can fight. Why do I think you’re leaving something out?”

  “Her father sold her into an arranged mating…er…marriage. She can’t really refuse even if she wants to for her father’s sake. From what I’ve been told, if she flatly refuses they will burn this camp to the ground for breaking an oath.”

  “That I believe. Where do I fit in?”

  “There are seven of them and they have trackers among them. I won’t be able to keep up and even if I do, they will easily overpower me if I’m alone. If I know anything about Nyess’ preference in associates, you’re likely more than capable.”

  Finth grinned broadly, revealing beef stuck in one of his teeth.

  “Let’s go then. Sounds like fun.”

  Estin led at first, circling the edge of camp with Finth on his heels the whole way. He was impressed the dwarf could keep up with him, but he had hoped this would be the case. They made good time, but even so, it had been close to an hour of head start for Insrin and Feanne by the time he and Finth reached the southern end of camp where they had departed. That made things even more urgent, quickening Estin’s pace.

  “This way,” Finth noted, pointing out a false trail, then redirected them to a nearby section of dry rocks that had been wind-swept clean of any snow. “Looks like they’re using a few tricks to keep any pursuit from coming.”

  “Their pack-leader wants his entire camp hidden from everyone including us. The tricks will get worse.”

  “Good!” grunted Finth, taking the lead.

  They ran on in silence, covering several miles in the intermittently snow-covered and rocky ground on their way roughly southwest into the mountains. Several times, Finth had been forced to stop and double-back, but they had not lost considerable ground. Estin kept thinking each time they reached a hidden fork of the path, that he was dearly thankful for choosing the dwarf to aid him. Without Finth, he would have lost the trail long ago.

  Long after the sky dimmed for the evening, Estin nearly tripped over Finth when the dwarf came to a sudden halt.

  “What is it?”

  Finth knelt, examining the ground carefully.

  “They have friends who recently joined them. We must be close.”

  Just then, a heavy impact knocked Estin off his feet and sent him sliding in the wet snow. He came around as fast as he could, watching as four foxes emerged from hiding places in the trees.

  “Insrin sends his greetings,” announced one who held a heavy axe and stood where Estin had been. Judging by the feel of his shoulder blade, it had been the pommel of that weapon that had struck Estin. “Oh, and tell your pack-leader there will be no guests, thanks to you. Insrin will decide later on the trade agreement. No one from your pack is welcome here.”

  Weapons were drawn then, with two other foxes hefting their axes at Finth, who stood there unarmed, his hands up, while the fourth fox remained farther back from the others.

  Rising to his feet, Estin drew his own weapons and launched himself at the fox that had knocked him down, parrying the other’s leading attack. He drove the fox backwards, pushing his attack until the fox lost his grip and his weapon slid away, disappearing into the snow, the weight of the weapon carrying it deep into the drifts.

  “Need help with this one!” the fox called out, diving behind a tree for cover.

  Estin started after him, then the air itself thickened and wrenched his swords from his hands, flinging them away into the trees. Half-turning, he saw that the farthest of the foxes was making motions that marked him as a spellcaster. The fox’s eyes widened when Estin spotted him.

  Calling on the short training he had received from Feanne, Estin went after that one, dropping to all fours and pouncing him with all his weight, kicking and tearing at him with his own claws. The fox screamed as he went down, trying to get Estin off him. Twice he tried to cast something, but Estin drove his elbow into the male’s face each time he began to speak, breaking his jaw and bloodying his face.

  Strong hands dragged Estin off his target, reminding him that there were more than the two foxes on the field. He spun, trying to get his claws into one of them, but took a kick to the stomach that winded him.

  Gasping for air, Estin fell to his knees as another kick to his side rolled him over. Then, they were everywhere, clawed feet pounding into his chest, legs, head…anything they could reach. He was forced to curl up defensively, dearly hoping that Finth might find a way to help, but he was losing faith in that vague chance. Still the beating continued, long after he was unable to hold his arms up protectively anymore.

  At last, he found himself alone, unsure how long it had been since they had stopped hitting him. The woods were quiet and dark, with footprints in the snow everywhere he looked.

  Estin groaned and sat up, spitting out a mouthful of blood and a small piece of one or more teeth. From what he could see of himself, he had hundreds of scratches from the foxes’ claws, though none were deep. It was the bruises from the beating that made it difficult to move. He could not breathe deeply without choking pain in his chest, which told him that some of his ribs were bruised or broken. When he tried to stand, his left leg gave out, the knee and hip flaring with white-hot pain.

  Collapsing into the snow, Estin closed his eyes and waited to die.

  “Get up, monkey,” grunted Finth, running up alongside him. The dwarf was sporting a deep gash across the side of his head that looked as though it had bled profusely and had since dried. “I found out where they went while you were napping.”

  With the dwarf’s help, Estin got to his feet and staggered through the snow, keeping much of his weight on Finth. They moved slowly through the woods, covering little ground before the sun rose.

  At last, they came up on a tiny village of mud and clay-packed houses, nestled against a fairly sheer rock cliff that helped hide it from most directions. Finth had brought them around along the rock face, keeping away from any patrols that might be about.

  “Can we get closer?” Estin asked when Finth stopped about twenty feet from the first house.

  “And do what? Get invited to breakfast?”

  “I need this, Finth.”

  “You need another kick in the head. Fine…c’mon.”

  They doubled back against the rocks and slipped into the village unseen. Though it was morning, Estin was seeing no one around, even though he could smell the residents still nearby. As they went, he realized that the only breed he could smell was fox, which struck him as decidedly odd.

  Finth tapped his arm, then pointed towards the center of town. There, about forty fox-breed wildlings stood in a tight circle around a simple platform, just large enough for two or three people to stand on.

  “Get me closer right now!” Estin hissed, testing weight on his leg. It held for a moment, then gave out again. “Just go.”

  Obediently, Finth found a path for them to g
et nearer the stage without being seen. Within minutes, they were as close as they could get without actually mingling with the residents.

  “…do you accept my proposal of a life-mating, to bind our fates as one for so long as our hearts beat?” asked Insrin, atop the platform.

  Estin looked up as they got into position, seeing Feanne across from Insrin, holding his hands. She lifted her face to the sky, bathing her face in sunlight as she closed her eyes. Lowering her face, she opened her eyes and gave one long look towards the north, then answered, her eyes clearly sad, even at such a distance.

  “I accept as pledged. This life-mating is our oath and bond until our hearts no longer beat.”

  Estin collapsed on the spot, his strength gone. He only dimly felt Finth tugging at his arm, as the foxes began to scatter and gather things for a celebration. He heard voices everywhere, but nothing existed in his world aside from Feanne’s face. He swore she was both sad and happy, giving polite smiles and greeting those who approached her.

  “They’re going to find us and they’ll choke you with your own damn tail if we don’t move,” Finth swore in his ear. “Move!”

  Struggling to find the strength to move, Estin let Finth guide him and mostly carry him, well into the woods. They both fell once they were safely away from the village, in the shelter of a thick cover of trees. There, Finth grumbled and swore to himself, while Estin stared blankly up at the branches above them.

  “What the hell was that all about?” demanded Finth, snorting and then spitting. “You almost got me killed and I don’t take kindly to dying for a mark.”

  “Sorry,” was the only answer Estin could muster. “I needed to see her again.”

  “Oh…oh hells. You and the…? Damn it all, monkey. I’m a little slow, but it would have been good to know you were going there to throw your life away trying to save some girl you wanted to mount.”

  “Why do you think I’d agree to go back to Nyess after? I knew I had already lost.”

  Finth chortled, patting Estin’s shoulder.

  “It’s alright. I’ve done stupid things for girls, too. That one’s gone, so it’s time for the recovery drinking, whoring, and waking up in a strange alley covered with oil, as my own dad used to say. Assuming Nyess doesn’t have me gut you like a fish and hang you in a public square, you’ll find another.”

  Estin nodded weakly. He had no idea what to do and no recourse. He wanted to scream, wanted to run, but most of all, he just wanted to go to Feanne.

  Chapter Seven

  “The Long Road”

  For as long as I had lived, my dreams were a part of me. Not always a good part, but always there, just as surely as my own tail. When I lost Feanne, something died that you do not easily heal from. I have been told that losing your first real love changes you, making you into the person meant for your next love, or the one after that. It is the loss of the first that shapes every relationship you will have from that point onward, though later relationships make far smaller changes to your outlook.

  I did not dream anymore. It was the loss of something I had dreaded every morning as I lay my head down for most of my life that made me realize why I had dreamed in the first place.

  When I was young, I had been told that the nightmares were there to help me slowly forget and work past the agony of watching my parents die, without being able to help. If that were true, Feanne’s mating ceremony would have haunted me every night thereafter, but it did not. There was only cold silence in my mind.

  That was when I realized what dreams really were, at least for me. They were not a reckoning. They were a guide for hope that reminds you of something that you need to grow from and never let happen again. Feanne’s loss was not something I could ever fix, could never change, and could never truly recover from, at least in my own mind.

  Without those things, even my mind would not torture me…after all, what was the point? I would suffer just fine in my waking hours, knowing that nothing else could ever be. Without another hope in my heart, there was nothing to dream about. Even my old dreams were unneeded without hope.

  Thus, each day I slept deeply, which I know some of the others thought meant I was recovering, but in reality I was dying a little more each time my eyes closed. Every day was a bit harder to wake from, but that was not my friends’ concern. I hid it from them, just as I hid from them all the times I visited the cliffs northeast of town, letting myself stand on the very edge, looking out at the sheer drops and daring myself to end the pain.

  For the time being, I had given up on all dreams and focused on the tasks Asrahn set before me. These occupied my thoughts and there was no room for anything else. It was easier and it made people proud of me. I was treated more like an adult now, which suited me fine.

  It would get better someday, I told myself as rote habit. It had to…

  Estin performed the words and motions Asrahn proscribed without error, creating a shimmering barrier of magical energy around a clay cup. He saw the magic form around it, before it faded from vision, though it was still there. From what little Asrahn had told him, the magic was a sort of shield on the target, the spirits he called upon for magic interceding at his request to protect the item.

  “Well done, once again,” she offered, dropping a heavy rock over the cup. The rock bounced off just a hair from the cup, as the magic flared brightly, then was gone. “You are learning quickly.”

  Estin said nothing, staring at the cup and the notebook where he had scribbled the symbols and methods of the magics Asrahn was teaching him. The book was getting rather full, having housed six months of his writing. Before long, he would need to rewrite it all to make it more manageable, but he had no desire to do so…he honestly had little desire to do anything that he was not instructed to.

  “Again,” Asrahn commanded, but raised her hand to stop him as the tent opened. “We have a guest, Estin.”

  He waited patiently for Asrahn to speak with her guest so that he could get back to his training. Whether she took a minute or an hour did not matter to him, but right now his only task for the pack was this training and he would do it as requested. This was what he lived for…the job he was being molded to take over from her.

  “Sorry, Asrahn,” came a gruff voice behind Estin. “I came to see him. We were going to head back to the city to restock what we can for Lihuan.”

  “Ah, I had nearly forgotten that was today. Estin, Finth has come to see you back to Altis. Were you ready for your journey?”

  Estin nodded, though he had done little to prepare for the trip. Without telling her that, he pushed his small notebook into his belt pouch and stood to follow Finth out, barely giving the dwarf a second-glance.

  “You sure you’re ready to go back again?” Finth asked, once they were out of the tent and moving through camp. “I damn near pissed myself last time.”

  “Of course I am.”

  They had gone back to Altis two weeks after Feanne’s departure, intending to return to Nyess, likely for a quick execution of Estin for running from the city in the first place. Instead, they had been surprised to find Nyess’ main building torn apart and bloodied. There had been no bodies to be found and they had returned to camp bewildered by Nyess’ disappearance.

  Finth had taken it hard. The whole time he had stayed with the wildling camp, he had been vocal of the belief that he would be returning to his old employer when the time was right. Finding the place ransacked had shocked him into a couple days of heavy drinking—aided by Ulra and her mate, who honestly seemed to enjoy the foul-mouthed little man’s company—followed by a reasonably heartfelt apology to the camp, even if it did contain several references to male genitals and the phrase “fur-sucking.” He had then asked permission to remain in the camp indefinitely, which Lihuan had accepted.

  Since then, Finth and Estin had gone back into Altis one more time, attempting to gather information. That trip had been two months prior and had been rather extensive, giving them a better idea of what had t
ranspired between Altis and Lantonne.

  As expected, the attack months earlier on the peace treaty wagons had finally gotten back to Lantonne and sparked widespread outrage. Altis claimed they had no stake in the attack and believed Lantonne had staged the entire affair to provoke escalations of the war. With Altis’ army already crushed, it had been a short jump to convincing the people to cheer when the Turessians had come forth with the plan to raise Lantonne’s fallen soldiers as Altis’ new army, sparing the city-state from further losses. A new army was being built, according to all the rumors they heard, made up of skeletons and zombies pulled from Lantonne’s graveyards. Though they had little proof, both Estin and Finth agreed that the truth was more likely that the army was being built from both sides’ graveyards.

  Most of the city guards were long gone during that visit. They had been replaced with shambling skeletons in small groups, with a single Turessian leading each as their guide. Estin had been shocked that the people accepted that, but the ones he talked to had said that it had taken months for the fear to wear off. In the end, the citizens were happier, as the undead and necromancer teams were far more fair and just to the people than the corrupt city guards had ever been. Most had a very high opinion of the Turessians, who had made it publically-known that they were truly sorry that they had no choice but to bring undead inside the city walls for the protection of the people.

  Estin had gotten the impression that those he talked with were trying very hard to convince themselves that this was a good thing and only barely managing to do that. Finth had found many rumors about townsfolk going missing if they spoke out against the dead squads. A few people, willing to speak secretly, had even commented on the coincidence that most of the “fresher” undead had severe damage to their faces, making identification impossible.

  After they had returned to camp the last time, heavy pre-spring snows had made travel impossible, forcing the whole camp to settle in and ride out the last of winter. Many said it was one of the coldest on record, but Estin no longer really noticed the chill. It was easy to set aside discomfort, while he had a job or task to focus on. Otherwise, there was always sleep, and he had collected enough fur blankets to endure the rough weather.