by Jim Galford
Taking Estin’s hand in his left and Feanne’s in his right, Turess whispered, “You can hear it if listen. Very faint. Say nothing for now.”
Putting their hands together palm-to-palm and patting them as he let them go, Turess smiled at Feanne and Estin’s interlocked fingers. “There it is. Sound of lover squabble end. Much better sound. Next time angry sounds happen, I put both wildlings in magic cage until calmer. Big waste of magic, but Turess does not make fake threats.” Turning on his heel, he walked away, whistling softly to himself as he disappeared among the trees.
“What just happened?” Feanne asked quietly, still not moving.
“He scolded us for fighting…like how we used to scold the kits.”
Eyeing their hands, Feanne’s shoulders drooped slightly. “He’s right. This was not something that should have come between us at all. I am still remembering things that were lost…not all of them are good memories, and they make me worry about my past more than I care to. It was easier in my old life to forget things years gone…remembering them now for the first time, I find myself wishing I had done many things differently. More than anything, I fear discovering something about myself that I cannot deal with, and I think I’m putting that fear on you, as well. I dread learning something about you…or us…that I am not ready for.”
Estin leaned closer to Feanne and let his whiskers brush hers, making her smile. “I understand, and having you gone for so long has made me scared of what we say and do around each other. If you want to know, I’ll tell you anything, but does it matter?”
Feanne shook her head, tightening her hold on his hand and putting the back of it to her cheek. “Not at all. I would only ask one thing.”
“What?”
“Why furless?” she asked, smirking as her eyes twinkled with mischief. “You say there were wildlings in cages. Free them and find a mate for a night. Why would you bed a human, let alone pay for that? I would have been fine with almost anything else…but a human?”
Laughing and pulling Feanne into a tight hug, Estin clung to her as they both relaxed.
*
The last day of the ride brought them from the foothills into the mountains proper, crossing terrain no horse would have managed. Though the wolves might have been an accident, Estin could see the value in having them there. The beasts continued to run hard, even on the rocky and uneven slopes, more than once choosing to slide down a hill in the loose snow to maintain their balance. Horses would have fallen many times over or been forced to detour.
Then the wolves picked up a scent and came to an abrupt halt, forcing Estin to cling to his wolf’s back. Turess went flying, tumbling across the snow.
“I have no idea what they are doing,” Feanne admitted, sniffing as she turned her head about. “Do you have anything, Estin?”
“Nothing,” he said. The air was crisp and he could smell goats somewhere nearby, but there was nothing he would term dangerous. At most, a bear had wandered past within the last few hours. “It smells like everywhere else out here.”
Climbing to his feet and dusting off his robes and coat, Turess scowled at his wolf and came back to stand near Feanne’s. Lifting the coin necklace from his shirt, he held it up in the dim moonlight and waited as it spun slowly, casting a thin beam of light somewhat northwest. He held it there for a minute as the beam shifted a little more west. Once it had settled, Turess walked slowly, and the beam moved slightly as he went.
“Old friend close,” he said, putting away the necklace. “Leave wolves?”
Feanne gave Estin a nervous glance before hopping down and patting her wolf on his flank. The animal watched her for a moment, almost as though waiting for a new command. When none came, the three wolves took off east as soon as Estin got to the ground. Within minutes the animals were far out of sight.
“We do not need wolves if old friend is welcoming,” Turess announced, giving them a half-hearted smile.
“And if your friend isn’t?” Estin asked, knowing Feanne was likely thinking the same thing.
Turess winced slightly as he turned and walked in the direction the coin had indicated. “If she is not welcoming, wolves make right choice by running.”
The three of them continued down the sloping hill, steadily descending into a narrow valley. Soon even the trees thinned out in the distance behind them, leaving little more than stone walls and ground around them.
They had been traveling for more than an hour in the closed space before Estin slowed and stopped, putting a hand to the wall of the valley. “Why are the stones warm?” he asked, realizing there had been no snow on the ground for some time. The ground had dried as they traveled. So far north, he would not have expected anything like that. Even his thick clothing felt far too warm for the weather, despite having felt overly thin hours earlier.
Turess quickly replied, “She like warm places. Maybe old volcano. Maybe steam from ground. Maybe magic. I choose not to ask last time. Had bigger worries, such as death.”
“We are after a wizardess?” Feanne asked, squinting and slowly sweeping her gaze over the valley. “You believe she will be strong enough to help us against your brother and his army?”
The muscles near his eyes twitching, Turess nodded vigorously and clamped his mouth shut. Both Estin and Feanne stared at him for a minute, but he kept silent.
“Let’s be done with this,” Estin announced, marching on. “The sooner we can get help, the sooner we might find out what happened to Raeln and the others. I hate not knowing. Plus, if we’re running out of time, it’s a long trip back into Turessi from here.”
They continued for another hour, with Turess occasionally pulling out the coin to verify they were going the right way. Each time the beam of light was more accurate, wavering less. Eventually, they came to a curve in the valley and found themselves facing a small wooden hut with smoke rising out of a chimney. The coin pointed right at it, but then went dark, the beam vanishing. Turess jingled the chain on the coin, as though trying to make the beam come back. A moment later, the smoke stopped rising from the house’s chimney.
“What does that mean?” Feanne asked, eyeing the coin.
Before Turess could reply, the beam appeared again, the light pointing behind them.
“It means that I moved,” answered a gruff woman’s voice right behind Estin. When he spun, he found an elven woman with long grey hair down to her waist and a faded old dress standing within five feet. There was no scent that accompanied her appearance. Leaning to look past Estin, the woman added something in Turess’s native language.
“What did you just say?” Estin asked, backing up a few steps.
“I reminded him that he was going to die if he came back.”
From behind Estin, Turess replied, “I have died once. Times do change. Forgive?”
Growling, the woman grabbed Estin’s shirt and fur and hurled him against the wall of the valley with enough force that he blacked out briefly. When he came to, the old woman had Turess held off the ground while Feanne tore ineffectually at the woman’s back with her claws. Somehow Feanne’s claws did not appear to even be getting through the woman’s dress, let alone her skin. Armored men had fared far worse against her claws.
“I was reasonably clear that the prophecies were nonsense!” the woman roared at Turess, shaking him violently. “Why didn’t you leave it alone?”
As Turess tried to answer, the woman hurled him into the side of the house, shattering the wooden planks and dropping him inside. The woman turned on Feanne, making a curt gesture with one of her hands. As she did, Feanne froze midswing, her eyes going wide as she fought to move.
Taking a deep breath as though to calm herself, the old elven woman began studying Feanne, leaning first one way, then the other. She sniffed softly and shook her head before coming over to Estin. “Do not get up,” she warned as she approached, sniffing again. “I know why you are here, and I would hope Turess told you enough to keep you from being an idiot, Estin.”
“He told us you were an old friend,” Estin answered, getting to his knees. His whole body hurt, but he knew attacking this old woman was probably not the best choice. He tried to take a slow breath, but could not inhale much before his aching ribs made him flinch.
“Old friend?” She laughed lightly. Taking a knee in front of him, she asked, “Did you know that he got my sons killed?”
“I didn’t,” Estin admitted.
“Yes, that man’s ridiculous prophecy is self-fulfilling. My sons would be alive if they hadn’t believed in it and followed his suggestions. Well…that may not be entirely fair. Nenophar died following Turess’s advice. Sinelin died because I tried to save Nenophar, but the result is much the same. One action creates the next in the fabric, as it always has.”
“Who are you?” asked Estin, studying her features. She was old, even for an elf, but he knew of no elves who could have lived so long that they knew Turess during his original lifetime. Even with magic, there were no stories of any living more than two hundred years. “Your sons…they died during Turess’s claiming of the nations?”
The woman laughed again and sat down hard on the stone ground. “No, my sons died a few months ago. The pattern of your fate tells me that you had a hand in both of their deaths, though I can see it was not by intent or direct involvement. Your actions led to the formation of the mists, and they are what killed my sons. If you had not caused all of this, Dorralt would have manipulated another. I put no blame on you, Estin. You were a tool that Dorralt used, as so many are these days. As for who I am…call me Mairlee. It is a name I have been fond of since before Turess was born. A dwarven child gave me that name, back when others called me such ridiculous things as ‘destroyer of nations’ and ‘blight of the wilds.’ Mairlee sounds far more pleasant and peaceful, don’t you think?”
Looking toward the cabin in hopes that Turess would show himself, Estin saw only a cloud of dust that lingered after the wall collapsed. Glancing the other way, he could see Feanne shaking with the effort of regaining control over her limbs, but she remained frozen in place. Whatever magic had been used seemed to be keeping her arm and leg muscles locked rigidly.
“Let them go,” Estin pleaded. “We came for help, not to start a fight with you. If you won’t help, please send us on our way. We’ll find another way.”
Grinning, Mairlee patted Estin’s shoulder gently. “Child, had I known your role in all this a few years ago, I would have killed you without hesitation in a half-hearted attempt to change the pattern of others’ lives. Now, knowing that we cannot go back, I find myself far more amenable to your presence. Besides, I can smell Raeln on you. Good boy, that wolf. Is his friend Greth still around? I did enjoy his banter.”
“Greth died in Lantonne. Raeln…I don’t know if he’s still alive.”
Mairlee’s smile faded abruptly. “A shame. At times I forget how easily your threads end, though anymore I feel that I am in no better position within the fabric of our world’s fate. I told myself that hiding out here until I was calm enough to keep from destroying a few cities over my sons’ deaths was wise. If you have come for help, that tells me that you have not managed to turn the tide of the war on your own and likely cannot.”
“Dorralt has armies holding nearly every city we’ve found between here and Lantonne,” Estin confessed, lowering his head, trying not to think about all the death he had seen of late. “His forces number in the hundreds of thousands. We believe he may have called many of them back to Turessi to ensure we cannot stop him.”
Mairlee nodded slowly, staring past Estin at the wall of the valley. She blinked hard and smiled as she said, “Raeln’s thread has not ended yet. We still have time. His thread should intersect yours again. If it doesn’t, I doubt either of you will live long. You were correct in seeking me out. Dorralt has done enough damage to the pattern of fate that I doubt a mortal has the common sense to sort out. I will help, if only to bring fear back to the world for my kind. We will need that if we are to survive another generation with our numbers so badly thinned.”
“Your sons died and your entire kind is threatened? What are you?”
Mairlee smiled again and shrugged. “If the great emperor of nations did not tell you, why should I? I can see what all of you are. Your wife is a were-fox and more who struggles to keep the rage that comes with that blood from consuming her. You were a receptacle for a creature nearly as dark as Dorralt at one time, though now you are haunted by what it left behind. Turess is and always was an idiot who overreaches and hides his weaknesses. If I can see this in all of you, the least you can do is humor me and figure my identity out yourself.”
Feanne abruptly fell forward, her muscles releasing. A second later, a groan from the cabin let Estin know Turess was alive.
“How do you know my name?” Estin asked, though he had far too many questions and that was low among them. He quickly held up a hand to stop Feanne from running at Mairlee, though he kept his eyes on Mairlee.
“I saw you once before, Estin,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “You were fleeing Lantonne with Feanne, Yoska, Finth, Linn, and the two foxlings. I have very good hearing, dear boy. And before you ask, many of those you wonder about still live. The children are beyond my sight after the mists touched them. I had thought you and your Feanne were also beyond my sight, but you have proven me wrong. That does not happen often. In fact, that bit of surprise is why I will help you. Touching the mists has taken you beyond the pattern’s ability to destroy without effort.”
Getting up slowly, Estin struggled to keep from losing his balance as his muscles shook. Behind Mairlee, Feanne looked little better off, and she gave him a questioning look to see if she should attack. He shook his head as subtly as he could, but Mairlee’s chuckle told him she saw the motion.
“How will we travel back to Turessi to fight Dorralt?” Estin asked, once he saw Turess crawl out of the wreckage of the cabin. “We’re more than a week away by horse. We want this war to be done, if you’re going to help us. Turess thinks we have little time left before the mists begin tearing the world apart.”
“The man is correct. But…are we really so far away?” Mairlee asked, drawing Estin’s eye. A faint sense of nausea washed over him, then faded quickly. “I think you need to work on your sense of direction, wildling.”
Looking up, Estin saw the stars overhead had changed position, as though time had passed. Even the moon was higher than expected. Turning, he looked back up the path they had used to enter the valley and found that while stone walls still lined the sides, no more than fifty feet away he could see open plains covered with snow. “How…?” he asked, staring.
“We will not defeat Dorralt alone, Estin,” Mairlee warned. “He is stronger than I am these days. I simply took us back to Jnodin. Unfortunately, you will not receive my help until the priests of that city join you. It is a requirement I must insist on. I leave such matters to you—I have never been a diplomat. I will, however, stay close in case you need my aid. I will give it, if it is not too much effort.”
“Thank you,” he said, smiling at the prospect of something finally going the right direction. “Thank you for anything you’re willing to do to help, Mairlee.”
“I have done little thus far, wildling. Do not assume I will be more help than I have promised. I will help myself and my kind first and foremost.”
Looking down at her, Estin replied, “You may read fate, but I can see people’s intentions. You want to help, and that’s more than we get from most. You want vengeance, and you’ll only get it through us. I can count on you far more than you’ll admit.”
Her smile widening until it looked like a wolf was baring its teeth, Estin wondered if perhaps he had overestimated her willingness to work with them.
Chapter Six
“End of Alliances”
With the coming of dawn, Raeln stood on the wind-swept hillside, trying not to shiver. He waited patiently, with snow above his upper ankles, slowly freezing his paws. Had he bee
n walking, he had gotten good at ignoring the pain of snow stuck in the fur between his toes, but standing still made it almost impossible to completely put aside. Stubbornness only got him so far. Another hour without moving around and he would be in danger of having some real harm done to his paws, not that he figured that to be a real risk anymore.
Ceran stood at one side, holding a heavy braided leather cord fastened to manacles locked snugly on his wrists behind his back. Standing on his other side, Orls held a similar cord, which was knotted around Raeln’s neck. From what Raeln understood of the situation, it would be Yiral who executed him, as he was her property and responsibility. The others were there to ensure he did not try to harm Yiral or flee, not that he had any intention of doing so. Resisting now meant he would watch Yoska and Dalania suffer before he died. The clan’s decision to punish him left him with no alternative that he could live with.
Nearly every member of the clan spread across the hillside to Raeln’s left, from child to elderly, accompanied by their deceased ancestors. Though most of the living people looked at him with disgust, they all appeared distraught by the whole situation. A few even cried, something he had never expected from the owners of slaves when one was to be executed. Ceran had apparently noticed his confusion and quietly explained to him that Turessians considered it their responsibility to care for the slave-caste, and the death of a slave meant the clan had let them down in some way. The slaves were seen as ignorant savages, little better than small children. The clan felt they had failed him, and thereby his failings were theirs, reflecting on the clan as a whole.
Opposite the Turessians, all of the slaves were present to watch his death as a lesson to them about obedience. At the front of the group, Dalania and Yoska stood waiting. Dalania was a wreck, fighting tears the whole time Raeln had been waiting, and Yoska’s anger was almost palpable from a hundred feet away. Raeln did what he could to ignore them, lest his resolve break. He certainly did not want to feed into their emotions or let theirs change his mind.