by Jim Galford
On’esquin was doing only slightly better than Raeln. His wounds on his arm had become badly infected. The man was delirious with fever half the time and weakening with each day. The first few days he had been unable to eat, saying vaguely he had seen no need for centuries, but in his current condition, it soon became all too apparent he had no choice. Once he began eating and drinking, he had recovered somewhat, but the infection kept him from gaining much of his strength. When he allowed anyone to see his arm, they saw the deep puss-filled swelling that covered much of it.
Yoska had spent much of the time in silence, watching Estin and caring for him when he seemed unable to care for himself. He had even helped Estin set up a funeral pyre, atop which Feanne’s remains still lay days later, covered by stones to keep animals away. More than once, Raeln had seen Estin near the pyre, whispering softly to the stones as though he were having a conversation with someone only he could see.
For his part, Estin continued to get worse with each day. After returning to the camp with Raeln, he had said nothing and barely acknowledged anyone around him. He spent most of each day standing beside the unlit pyre, seemingly waiting for a miracle that would not come. If Yoska had not taken to practically forcing him to eat and drink, Raeln felt certain Estin would have stood by that pyre until he died. It was a reaction Raeln understood all too well, but he could not stand to see it in someone else.
Each night Raeln had watched the woods for signs of the creature that had followed them. Sometimes he would see nothing out there in the dark, but most nights those same gleaming eyes watched them from the trees, always gone before anyone could investigate. It was chilling, knowing something had the determination to stalk them for so long. He had stopped bringing it to the attention of the others, and he sat alone a short distance out in the dark, hoping it would come for him. If it did, either it would die or Raeln would not have to worry about anything anymore.
“We need to go soon,” said On’esquin, surprising Raeln. The man had snuck up on him while he was watching the trees. “The Turessian army continues to strengthen their grip the longer we take to get to Dorralt. One death cannot stop us here.”
“One death drags down other lives with it,” Raeln replied without taking his eyes off the trees. There was something moving out there, he was sure of it. “None of us are in any shape to travel. We will wait.”
“Raeln, do you honestly think we will get any better waiting here?”
Raeln sighed and looked around at their meager camp. The small pile of animal and fish bones had grown larger with each day they delayed, and their campfire had the look of having been surrounded by a larger group than theirs after so long. Nodding, he silently agreed with On’esquin, even if he had no desire to try to walk.
Looking down the hill to the woods, he saw the moving shape in the trees was gone.
Giving up on his watch, Raeln steadied himself on his crutch and made the slow trip around the edge of the lake to where Estin stood by the pyre. Normally Yoska would have been at his side, talking to him more or less endlessly, but the older human was out hunting supplies in the woods. Not that Estin seemed to notice as he stared with wet eyes at the stones in front of him.
Raeln approached slowly, coming up beside Estin to join him at the pyre stones. Dry pieces of wood poked out beneath the top layer of stones where they had been placed as a bed for the woman’s body. After so long, Raeln could hardly stand being so close to the pyre—the stench had grown so strong. He bit back his reflex to gag out of respect for the survivor beside him, though he had to swat away flies that had swarmed around the area.
“You know it’s time, Estin,” he said after a minute, looking over at Estin. The man nodded vaguely, but might not have understood at all. “We need to go on. I’m willing to bet this is not what she would have wanted of you.”
“I know. I can’t do it, though,” whispered Estin, his voice almost inaudible. “If my children were here, I could force myself for their sake. It’s too hard, Raeln…”
It was then Raeln noticed the necklace Estin was wearing. The item was new, fashioned from lacing pulled from his sleeves. The necklace had been knotted around two claws that Raeln could easily recognize as Feanne’s—deadly sharp and appearing to be those of a lion, not a fox—with tufts of her bright-red fur fastened between. It looked like the start of one of the tribal necklaces Greth had once shown him, and he idly wondered whether those had also been made from lost loved ones, whereas he had originally thought them to be the bones of enemies. Keeping such mementos seemed barbaric, but Raeln was starting to understand it was a way of holding both memory and a piece of those who were missed close. He could not fault anyone for that.
Raeln dug around in his pouch until he found the flint and steel he had borrowed from Yoska the night before to light their campfire. Holding them in the palm of his hand, he offered both to Estin. “You should be the one to do this,” he noted, but Estin merely nodded again. He really was not hearing Raeln at all. “Estin…please. Do this for her. She would not want to be left to rot.”
The man stared blankly at the pyre, seemingly unaware of Raeln’s presence.
Taking Estin’s hand, Raeln pressed the flint and steel onto the large central pad of Estin’s hand, where a deep scar ran. He closed the man’s fingers over the tools, hoping physical contact with them might get through to him. Instead, Estin looked down at his hand in confusion and let the two small items fall to the ground at his feet.
“This is enough,” Raeln said, picking up the tools and stepping closer to the pyre. “Estin, we both know this has to be done. I don’t even know her and I know she deserves better than this.”
Tears rolled down Estin’s face again, but he stared past Raeln.
“I’m sorry,” offered Raeln one last time and turned to the pyre. “If you can’t do it, I will.”
When the pyre had been built, handfuls of dry pine needles and grass had been stuffed into many of the gaps, touching the already-dry wood. The intent had been to make it easier to light it ablaze, but after days without rain, the wood was dry enough he likely did not need the kindling. Raeln tapped the stone and metal together, keeping them well away from the wood. As he had hoped, after the second tap, Estin grabbed his wrist and stopped him.
“I need to do this,” Estin said, taking the flint and steel.
Backing away, Raeln waited as Estin held the items, staring at them as though they were something he had never seen before. Just when Raeln thought he might drop them again, Estin reached out and struck them over the kindling, almost immediately sparking a fire that quickly spread through the kindling and across the wood, raising a cloud of dark smoke that spread through the stones.
The steady crackle of the flames spreading was quickly overtaken by a throaty wail as Estin raised his face to the sky. The man’s mourning cry was eerie, sending chills down Raeln’s spine.
“Let it go, Estin,” Raeln whispered, stepping alongside him to give Estin a reminder that there was someone else there who understood. As he did, Estin let his cry end and began growling, trying to warn Raeln off. “I understand. I really do. If you want to hurt me, I’ll let you do it. I don’t think that’s really what you want, though.”
After a moment, Estin collapsed in front of the blazing pyre, weeping. With the help of his crutch, Raeln knelt beside Estin and wrapped his arms around him from the side. Estin flinched at first, baring his fangs, but then relaxed and accepted the kindness.
“I couldn’t save her,” Estin murmured, lowering his face to rest his cheek on Raeln’s arm. “I should’ve been stronger…faster…”
“I know, Estin. I know. We all blame ourselves. Sooner or later, we’re all left wondering what we could have done differently.”
Slowly, Estin composed himself and straightened up, taking a shuddering breath as he patted Raeln’s arm. He gazed sadly toward the column of smoke and flame and then squeezed the necklace he wore with his other hand. “I’m fine now,” he lied, though
Raeln could tell Estin was legitimately trying to control his anger and sadness. It would return soon enough, given any provocation.
Raeln eased his grip and leaned back, half-expecting Estin to run away. Instead, Estin turned around and grabbed Raeln in a surprisingly strong hug, though the man’s arms barely could meet behind Raeln’s back.
“Thank you,” Estin said and pulled away, got up, and walked toward where On’esquin and the campfire waited.
Raeln watched Estin go and noticed Yoska off to one side of the plateau, watching from the shadows of a tree. The gypsy nodded grimly at Raeln before heading to join Estin. How long he had been watching, Raeln could not guess.
Despite wanting to join the others, Raeln waited by the pyre, watching the flames rise. He had gone out of his way to avoid looking at the flames that consumed Greth, afraid he would never have been able to stop crying and certainly never would have been able to force himself to leave. He had walked away the same way Estin had.
Now, seeing the same thing happening to the loved one of another, he came to grip with what he had lost. He would never fully accept the pain and the misery, but knew it gave him purpose and strength of a different kind. Like he had promised himself before in anger, he once again pledged he would find the Turessians’ leader and tear the man apart, if not for himself or Greth, then for Estin and his wife.
There would be no more tears. Raeln wanted blood. He would avenge the thousands that had been where he and Estin now were.
*
“Do you have everything?” Raeln asked the group as he leaned on his crutch early the next morning. “We aren’t coming back here.”
On’esquin nodded but looked as though he might fall over at any moment. His wounded arm hung limply in its sling, the skin around his bandages darkened almost to black. Raeln had come near him earlier at dawn and felt the heat of his fever a foot away. Without something, he would be dead within two or three days, judging by those Raeln had seen die in the past.
Beside On’esquin, Estin sat quietly, holding a bag they had patched together from small animal hides. In that bag were the ashes and some smaller bone fragments of his dead wife, which Estin had said he intended to bring to his children when he found them. That had been the extent of Estin’s ability to converse with the group, but Raeln took it as an improvement.
Unlike the others, Yoska seemed to be in genuinely good spirits…possibly a result of having drunk the remainder of their stockpile of alcohol. The man had made it sound like a noble sacrifice to minimize what they needed to carry, but Raeln got the impression he was truly thrilled to be moving on. From what Raeln knew of gypsies, they despised being stuck in one place too long, and Yoska clearly had been with them on the little plateau for too long.
“What’s our best way out of here?” Raeln asked Yoska, motioning toward the valley spread out below them. “I’ve only seen about a quarter of the place and have no idea what’s past it.”
Yoska got up and squinted at the valley, raising his eyes to the sky. He pointed vaguely, gesturing between two points among the mountains that Raeln was fairly certain he was choosing at random. “Ancestors say we go northwest,” he announced, smiling.
“You don’t seriously expect me to believe that, do you?” Raeln asked, crossing his arms. “I’m pretty sure that’s northeast.”
“No, is true that I make that up,” Yoska admitted, looking sheepish as he turned to meet the watchful eyes of On’esquin. “Ancestors actually say to go east, but that takes us into glorious battle against the enemy and closer to old brewery north of Altis. I think ancestors get priorities wrong sometimes, so we go north to live a little longer, yes? My great-mother think I should visit more and I think she is trying to get me dead sooner than later.”
Raeln groaned, wondering why he had bothered to ask the man anything important. Still, he had no idea where they were and less than no idea of how to get to the vague destination On’esquin had set for them. He was not even sure there were a dozen people in the world beyond gypsies and Turessians who actually knew precisely where Turessi was on a map.
“Where are we going?” asked Estin, blinking and looking around in confusion. He had been up the entire night, lost in thought. “I need to go to my children.”
On’esquin spoke up quickly. “Estin, it would be unwise to go to Corraith. You are still there with your family. They are alive and well, as they were more than a year ago. If you traveled there and arrived before you left, do you have any idea what would happen to you or them?”
“No.”
“Neither do I,” On’esquin confessed. “Some things are best left untouched. We will go there after we have faced down those responsible for the deaths we have seen. This I promise to you on my clan and my blood.”
“Atall might still be alive…”
“Nothing can change that,” the orc said over top of Estin’s argument. “The gods themselves are unable to rewrite what has happened. We can only move forward. If we try to change what has happened, likely he will still die and more with him.”
Estin seemed to think on that for some time, his hands gently stroking the bag of ash and bone. Finally, he nodded and got up, tying the sack to his belt. “Promise me one more thing,” he told On’esquin as he started down the slope toward the lake where he had first arrived. “Promise that you will find Oria and give her Feanne’s remains if I don’t survive. Bring mine too.”
On’esquin agreed and grabbed Raeln’s arm to hold him back at the rear of the group. Once Estin was far enough away, he said softly, “I doubt any of us will live to see this through. I would not feel right having all of you ignorant of that fact.”
“I figured that out already,” Raeln answered, pulling On’esquin’s hand off his arm. “I’m ready to die for revenge. I think all three of us are, whether we want to admit it or not. That’s why he asked you, not Yoska and not me. You’ll outlive us once you’re healed.”
Setting off down the path, Raeln struggled to keep up with the healthier men at the front. He knew this would be a short journey for him. His leg would likely never heal, and without magic, he had his doubts about any of them living through a week with their injuries.
He looked off toward the trees that lined the old animal path they walked and saw something shadowy out there, watching from the deeper brush. For a moment he thought to warn the others, but then decided there was no point. Instead, he waited until his companions were paying more attention to the path than to each other and turned toward the woods as he stopped. Tapping his chest with a closed fist, Raeln saluted whatever was out there in a traditional warrior’s greeting, usually meant to indicate the warrior knew he was outmatched but ready to die.
The shadows moved and the creature darted away.
Smiling to himself, Raeln wondered when it would come for him. He dearly hoped it would be soon, if only to give the rest of his companions better odds of traveling to safety without having to wait on him.
*
The journey through the valley took several days, surprising Raeln at how wide the place really was. He had never gotten a clear picture of it from the plateau where they had camped, but between the lake and the dense woods, the place would have made an ideal place to hide out for years, were it not for the mists that had been there when they had arrived.
Those first few days were easier on Raeln, as Yoska had managed to find an offshoot of the river that left the mountains flowing steadily in more or less the direction they wanted to go. He had put together a simple raft and the four of them had floated downriver at a pace Raeln certainly could not have matched with his leg still growing worse by the day.
Eventually, the river had turned west and south, forcing them to abandon their raft and the seemingly endless supply of fish that they had survived on. They had traveled easily a hundred miles while taking time to rest and recover as best they could, which seemed to have given them all a small degree of fresh hope.
Once they were on foot again and well in
to the woods of the northern mountains, animals were abundant, as were berries and the occasional unripened fruit, allowing them to gather plenty of food as they went. For the first time in weeks, Raeln felt as though he had a fighting chance—his belly no longer told him he would die at any moment, though his leg continued to worsen. By the eighth day of travel, he had been forced to stop the group nearly every hour to rest and rub feeling back into his leg. They had been understanding, but Raeln wondered how long that would last. He could see no reason for them to endure the constant delays, and he kept hoping one morning he would wake to find they had left without him.
At midday that day, he tripped on a hidden root and stumbled, unable to catch himself without both legs. Falling hard, he tried to roll with the landing, but had no way to do that with his crutch nearly under him. He came down hard, tasting blood and then biting down a scream as his leg shifted and the bone popped sharply at his hip.
Raeln lay where he had fallen as On’esquin came running to him. Yoska was likely far enough ahead that he was unaware, but Estin did not turn. Instead, the man stopped and stared at his hands as though confused again.
“Stop this foolishness,” Raeln told On’esquin, slapping away his hands as the man tried to help him up. “I can’t do this, On’esquin. Take them and go.”
“Raeln,” offered the orc, trying to grab Raeln’s hand to pull him up, but Raeln snarled and shoved him away again. “We need each other…”
Before Raeln could spit a rebuke at On’esquin, he realized the orc no longer wore his sling. The hand he had tried to use to pull Raeln upright was his wounded one, but he seemed to have regained his strength. Even the skin had taken on a more natural green color. “You healed,” Raeln observed out loud, and On’esquin seemed surprised too as he stared at his arm. He flexed it and smiled. “Does that mean…?”
“We have our magic back,” called out Estin, turning to face them with a ball of glowing light in his hand. “Too late for Feanne, but not too late for you. Someone or something is watching out for you.” Taking a knee beside Raeln, Estin let the light vanish. He placed that hand on Raeln’s hip, clearly trying to be as gentle as he could. Still, the pain from even that touch was excruciating, though Raeln stifled his cry. “This will feel awful,” warned Estin, closing his eyes. “On three, I’ll put the bones back where they belong.”
