by Jim Galford
But, here I was, facing a city that was not my own, surrounded by soldiers who would die to free it. This was their home and I was a foreigner, but they would follow Feanne and myself to their deaths if they believed it would get them back the city, even for a day. They would not do it for us, but for their own families. Regardless of what they thought of us, we had power at our disposal and that was more valuable than gold.
The city was never my concern, I’ll be honest. From the moment we decided to attack, I knew what my goals were and where they did—or did not—intersect with those of the citizens.
I wanted to secure a place where we could rest, where ghouls and zombies would not have a chance of suddenly appearing at our door. I wanted my daughter to be able to be with the male she loved and have the time to think about what she wanted to do with what remained of her life.
The city was a symbol of all that. Admittedly, we could go elsewhere, but if we took all the meager supplies of the refugees, we still might not make it to the next city without a wagon. We needed this place, or at least we needed to get it secured against Arturis.
No more would we let that creature feed on the city like his personal trough with fresh materials for his army. We would convince the residents to stand up and fight, or we would die trying.
As I write this, I can see the city in the distance, waiting for our arrival. When I enter that city, I pray that Oria is waiting for us. If anything happened to her, I will never forgive myself.
Oria needs this city. She needs to have a home that will be something more to her than a transition between hovels in the desert.
All of the kits need that consistency, but the other kits are still young enough that they can deal with anything as long as their parents are with them. Oria is very much an adult, no matter what I tell her. She wants a pack, but what she needs now is a home.
At my own words and thoughts, I cannot help but realize how I have changed over the years. Once, my concerns were solely for myself and Feanne and how to keep us together and safe.
These days, Oria and the kits are my consuming thought. These are our future and I need to protect them at all costs, if only to prevent them from knowing the pain that Atall did before and during his death.
That was my failure. No one else can take that blame. Atall’s death rests solely on my shoulders, for having failed to understand the gifts Asrahn and Lihuan gave me. I will not let that happen to the rest of my children. Even if I have to lock them all in a box and put them on a wagon to another land, I cannot let it happen again.
I know now that while I am willing to die for Feanne if there is no other choice, I am actually proud to say that I am happy to die for my children. With Feanne, I’ll look for a way out for both of us…for the children, I would not hesitate.
Sitting by Feanne, with Rinam and Alyana in his lap chewing on some fresh meats that he had managed to scrounge up in the camp, Estin waited for the scouts to let them know if they were going to march or not. The afternoon’s hike had been long and hard on the younger members of the group, but the hardest work was coming still.
Estin glanced over at Feanne, who was playing with Theldis, giggling with the kit as they batted at each other. Their fun was good to see, though he knew if they marched into the city, it might be the last bit of joy for some time.
“Estin!” called Phaesys, running into the encampment.
Bowing in his usual greeting, Phaesys stood between Estin and Feanne when he announced, “Oria’s signal just burned out. Green. The city is safe.”
Estin looked toward the city itself, starting to light up for the evening. For all the lights there, no colored ones were still visible. Still, he knew he was much farther out and at a bad angle. That was why he chose to have Phaesys sneak closer to the city to better see the small fire when it was lit. Given that Estin had never seen it, he was glad he had sent Phaesys after all.
“Gather up, then,” Estin told him, hoisting the kits as he stood. “We march within the hour. If all goes well, we can have the city ready before Arturis comes back.”
Phaesys ran off again, heading toward the large gathering of soldiers, who were eagerly waiting for news of what would happen next.
“What are you thinking?” Feanne asked, smiling at Estin, though her eyes glimmered with a predatory readiness. She was concealing her concern from the kits. They might not listen to the conversation, but they would pick up on fear or worry immediately.
“Every time we’ve faced him, things have gotten worse,” Estin said, trying to keep his tone neutral. “I’m tired of worrying about my children and every place we live. I don’t want this anymore.”
Feanne got up, putting Theldis on her back as she moved over beside Estin. She came up close to him, nuzzling the kits in his arms first, then likewise for him.
“One more time,” she assured him. “The others have looked over the maps in the book. They are good. By tomorrow, they will not need our help anymore and we can leave. I would say we leave now if Oria were here, but I know she would like time…”
Feanne let the sentence drop off, but looked at Estin significantly.
“Time to work things out with Phaesys, trust me, I know.”
“He will be unable to think about her until the city is ours again, so she will be unwilling to leave until then,” Feanne explained. “If nothing goes wrong, that will be soon.”
“When has anything ever gone well, Feanne?”
Grinning, Feanne touched the scars on Estin’s arm. “Every bit of pain we suffer strengthens those who survive. You and I are testimony to that. Never forget it.”
“That may be, but is it so wrong to wish for things to be easier for the kits?”
Feanne shrugged and looked toward the city on the horizon. “My parents’ parents wished for freedom from slavery and open land they could live in. My parents had freedom and land, but wished for food and water to last them through the winter,” she told him, smiling as though she were looking at something far different than the desert city. “Now, we wish the undead would go back to their graves. There is always something bad, Estin. Our children will never escape that entirely. All we can change is what they look back on.”
Between where Estin’s family stood and the open desert, the tiny army had already gathered and was apparently ready to march, as Phaesys stood on the near side, looking up the hill toward Estin.
“Then let’s go show our children that the undead won’t always win.”
They gathered their things quickly and escorted the kits to an elderly elven woman that had offered to watch them. Feanne was very sure to warn the woman that Lorne was not to come near the kits, even going so far as to suggest others who might be preferable in the camp.
After a brief discussion earlier in the night, it had been decided that Lorne would no longer be allowed to watch the kits and Estin had not even thought to disagree. Initially, Feanne had debated not whether to find someone else to watch the kits, but who. In the end, she had reluctantly agreed to allow the elven woman to do the job, though Estin could tell it was difficult for Feanne.
The discussion had come up quickly after Estin had seen the way Feanne warned Lorne away with just a glance, making Lorne steer clear of the whole family. The possessive foolishness of Lorne, coupled with Feanne’s desire to maintain her role as leader of the family unit was just not compatible in any way. Even an elf was safer than Lorne, Feanne had said, given the current situation.
On some level, Estin felt bad for the female, desperately believing that she meant well. Still, he was thankful for Feanne’s more firm approach. Things had gotten too uncomfortable the moment Lorne had begun using the kits in her manipulations. Another time and place, he would have invited Lorne to travel with them as a friend, but she had pushed things too far.
After a light supper, the soldiers gathered around Feanne, Estin, Norum, and Phaesys, waiting for the call to march.
In the evening light, details of the soldiers’ faces were har
d to pick out, but Estin could clearly hear nervous fidgeting all around him. For most of these people, they were already closer than they had been to their home city in a year. The wait before marching into it must have been maddening…or terrifying.
“Sun’s low,” called out Norum, his voice projecting to the whole group. “I want everyone to keep moving. No firm lines. We’re disguising our numbers here, so formation should change every minute. We’ve trained for this, so let’s do it!”
With a lurch, the large group set off, small groups of the soldiers abruptly switching places every few hundred yards. The complexity of the shifting sections of the formation maintained without losing forward motion and without a word being spoken amazed Estin. He dearly wished his old friend Linn were there to see the tactics, as the man had obsessed about such things. Sadly, the man was likely in a shallow grave hundreds of miles away.
Mostly, Estin was used to wildling tactics, which were far less organized. A predator generally went straight for their target, hoping to destroy it as fast and as thoroughly as it could. The prey breeds would fight only if cornered. Some of the breeds might use deception, but it was always on an individual level…rarely did he see group-wide tricks as elaborate as this.
The last time he had faced down a Turessian, it had been with more than a hundred people of every race, but led by the wildlings. Their plan had been little more than to find a wall to back up against and fight until there was no one left standing. It had worked out poorly, but it was the only style of fighting he had ever known. Now, he was beginning to understand what his people lacked in training when it came to war.
Estin looked to Feanne, finding that she was also watching the soldiers move with fascination. The way she studied them, he had no doubt that she was thinking of what she could do with a force trained as they were.
“Think our fight would have been different if we had let Linn train our warriors?” he asked Feanne.
“No,” she answered. “We were still surprised and they had ten corpses for every one living person we fielded. Training would have bought us time and little more. The end would have been the same. Still, it would have been nice to see this kind of unity among our kin. Perhaps someday we’ll see our people with this degree of training and determination.”
Despite Feanne’s opinion, Estin continued to watch the soldiers, wondering if it would have changed things even a little. He wondered which of his friends might be alive now, if they had just had a few more trained soldiers. Ulra, Finth, Yoska…what he would not do to have them at his side this day, if only to bolster his confidence.
“Stop looking so worried,” Feanne ordered him, taking his arm in hers, as though they were walking alone somewhere pleasant. “Oria did her scouting. If she says it is safe, then this will be easy enough. There is no reason to worry until Arturis returns. Given that he has not come back yet, that will likely not be yet tonight.”
The group marched on, slowly making its way up to the city walls, then spread out. The soldiers extinguished any torches once they were within arrow range of the walls, making them even harder to count in the dark.
“Who goes?” called out a man high on the wall. “Identify yourselves or we will fire.”
Stepping to the front of the group, Norum yelled back, “Your commanding officer. If you can’t recognize me, we’re going to have words, Jonna.”
Despite the low light, Estin clearly saw the grin of the soldier on the wall.
“Open the gates!” the guard yelled, the command quickly repeated by several others.
With a groan, the iron gates creaked open, with just a handful of lightly-armed soldiers standing on the inside.
“Welcome back,” said one of the men, walking straight to Norum. They clasped arms, easing Estin’s concerns. Looking at the group behind Norum, the elven soldier added, “Is this all you brought? How many?”
Norum looked back at Estin and Feanne and then back to the younger soldier.
“I brought the best I could find,” he explained, dismissing the question about numbers. “Depending on who you have that’s still loyal, we should be able to hold any of the fortified buildings with ease.”
The soldier’s face paled, making Estin reach for his weapons. Something was not right.
“Sir, we have almost three hundred loyal men, but there’s at least fifty undead in the city right now that we know of. You don’t have long before they report to their master. If this is all we have, then you need to get to cover quickly, or…”
From somewhere out in the desert, a horn blew loudly, the noise carrying clearly even from a distance. It rang out a second and third time before the area went silent.
Estin, being most of the way toward the rear of the soldiers, turned and looked across the desert. He could see a single shape out there, running hard around the south side of the city. Whoever it was out there was much too far to make out clearly, but it was the one with the horn.
“What was that?” Norum asked, trying to see past his whole gathering of soldiers back out past the gates to the desert. “Not one of ours.”
“No,” the gate guard answered, drawing his weapon. “That’s the sound of one of Arturis’ spies. Those he’s bought off with promises of power often have horns like that. They’ve seen you.”
A sudden ruckus up on the walls was followed by the body of a guard falling just inches from Estin, crashing loudly to the ground. The man’s face and arms were clawed badly and his throat was ripped out.
Looking up, Estin had just seconds to shove at the people around him to get them to move as the gate came crashing back down. Three men were just a little too slow and screamed only briefly as the heavy portcullis crushed them, even as it locked the majority of the force inside the city.
A dozen of the soldiers had gotten caught outside. Those men drew their weapons and Estin heard them begin fighting for their lives against whatever was out there. Pinned against the portcullis, they were as good as dead.
At the top of the wall, three ghouls hissed and jeered as they ran away from the controls for the portcullis.
“Get your men to the old palace to hide,” the lead soldier told Norum. “I only have ten men here. We won’t last long. I’ll gather what I can and come to your aid.”
The mob of soldiers took off at a run, with Phaesys and Norum leading the way. In the middle of the group, Estin and Feanne struggled to keep from being trampled, while those on the outer edges called out sightings of undead nearby and helped steer the crowd toward its destination.
As they ran, the group gained more soldiers who must have recognized their fellows, or gotten word from the man at the gate. Soon, the group had swelled to well over a hundred, even before they reached their destination—a massive stone structure far from the walls of the city.
The old palace was impressive, that much Estin could give it. It was also a fortress. Squat and bearing few windows, the building appeared suited to withstanding siege weaponry as easily as any castle back in the mountains. There was only one visible entrance, with massive wooden doors that currently stood open, overlooking the road out toward the city’s springs.
“Everyone inside!” shouted Norum, waving the group on as he fell back to the rear. “Phaesys, get people into defensible locations. I’ll take five and secure the doors.”
The group split quickly, with Norum and those closest to him stopping at the entryway. As Estin looked back at them, he could see them frantically working to shove the heavy doors closed, even as a handful of ghouls ran up the torch-lit street toward them.
In the distance, Estin could easily make out a hundred zombies walking in their direction, with ghouls running on ahead.
Once inside, the palace was incredibly dark, even to Estin. He could make out a grand entry hall, with stairs at the far end. All along the sides of the room were solid-looking doors. Beyond that, any detail was lost.
“Main force, hold this hallway!” Phaesys ordered, still walking down the hall toward the
far stairs. “Estin and Feanne, come with me.”
Within seconds, the soldiers had torches lit and were dragging furniture into the main room to set up barricades. The group appeared ready for anything, but Estin wondered if it would be enough. A few ghouls would be no problem, but Arturis would tear through them without effort, unless a few soldiers had tricks like Feanne’s.
Or his, he reminded himself, wondering if he would have time to figure out how to use the powers Asrahn and Lihuan had helped him acquire. He still had no idea where to begin, so he was not going to count on it.
Hurrying up the steps, Phaesys waved Estin and Feanne past him, as he watched behind them nervously.
Estin nearly forgot the danger of what was coming as he entered the new room. It was a throne room, built not entirely unlike the one back in Altis. Polished stone floors, arches, and even archer-posts high above were remarkably similar. The major difference Estin could see was the huge window that stood behind the throne, catching the light of the rising moon to light the whole place, as well as a series of matching thrones that appeared far newer than the central one. If he had to guess, the council was not the original ruling body in this place. Estin stopped at the middle of the room to look around, while Feanne walked the edges, exploring.
Turning back to the entryway where Phaesys still stood, Estin began to study the younger male, realizing something was not right. He could not put a finger on it, but he could feel a difference in his behavior. There was a strange tension…and Phaesys would not look back at him. The more Estin watched Phaesys, the more sure he was that he had a problem.
“Phaesys?” Estin asked, just as the desert fox swung the doors closed with a boom. “Why are we away from the others?”
Dropping a long wooden bar across the doors, Phaesys turned to Estin and lowered his head sadly.
“I am sorry,” Phaesys said, drawing his sword, though he kept it at his side. “Believe me, I had no choice.”
A snarl from Feanne made Estin look her direction. She was backing slowly away from a dark-robed figure that was walking up a flight of stairs Estin had not noticed before.