The Northern Approach

by Jim Galford

Estin let his vision blur and go unfocused, giving him the ability to see some forms of ambient magic and the auras of items, generally in the form of a faint glow. The bracelet faded away in his sight, disappearing completely, while everything else magical and mundane remained in some way—everything except On’esquin. The man disappeared the same way the bracelet did.

  Straining to keep control over his abilities without letting on to the others that he was doing anything, Estin pushed himself to see a little more. He searched for visible life, a trick his master, Asrahn, had taught him for finding the dwindling life of a dying person, in the hope he could heal them before their spirit was too weak to be pulled back. Immediately, On’esquin reappeared. The bracelet slowly began to form in Estin’s sight, glowing faintly as its magic was revealed to be tied in some small way to life itself. He had seen something similar only once before, when Asrahn had sent him rings to give to his children. Those rings had glowed with a distinctly similar aura, though this one seemed stronger and far more elusive. Whatever Raeln had was designed to be difficult to understand, and the fact that its magic was vaguely similar to On’esquin’s concerned him.

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Raeln was saying. “It’s fused into my skin. I can’t take it off.”

  Estin then reached out and turned Raeln’s arm so the top of the bracelet was visible as he let his eyes return to seeing the normal world. Upon seeing the patterned lines on the top, he growled deep in his chest and stepped away. “Turessian runes,” Estin told the group. He looked over at On’esquin with barely restrained animosity. “I haven’t seen anything good come out of those lands. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “That was not entirely unfair,” admitted On’esquin, clasping his hands behind his back. “Estin has seen more than his share of what my people have done to this world. I would not even try to defend them. I only wish to be an exception.”

  Turning back to the path, wanting to get away from any more Turessian magic, Estin called over his shoulder, “I’m not even convinced of that yet. You gave me power that couldn’t save my mate. I barely consider you an ally. An instigator maybe, but not an ally.” That seemed to cut through On’esquin’s defenses and Estin heard him sigh. Not caring, Estin pushed down the path, knowing the others would catch up eventually. The fox at his side ran on ahead, scouting for him.

  Estin’s anger was difficult to contain. He had met On’esquin months earlier in the desert, hidden far below the sands in a tomb. The man had been evasive about everything, but had been unwilling to harm Estin, his son Atall, or his other children who had been barely old enough to walk at the time. Estin had trusted him after they had talked and made the great mistake of accepting his gift of “power.”

  Stopping in the middle of the woods, Estin felt as though he could not catch his breath. He remembered that day clearly, having thought On’esquin had granted him the strength to save Feanne. She had been about to be executed, but the “gift” On’esquin had given him had taken over, changing him. He had lost control of himself to an anger he had never felt before that day and killed many of those who would have hurt Feanne. It had taken him hours to regain his senses after that. His lack of control had very nearly lost him both Feanne and their daughter, Oria.

  The gift had been powerful, that was something Estin would never argue. Wizards and soldiers had died alike around him, torn apart by his claws and magic. Had he seen On’esquin that day, he would have hugged the man and thanked him for helping. It had seemed a miracle at the time.

  The powers had resurfaced later, when Feanne and Estin had fought the Turessian who controlled the city of Corraith. The insane man had killed Atall and nearly killed Oria. Dozens had died around him, and it had been only a matter of time before he found a way to kill the rest of them. Feanne had used her own magic and Estin his, but they had been unable to so much as hurt the man. For all the power On’esquin had shoved into Estin, it had been nearly worthless against the Turessian, Arturis.

  Oria had been the one to figure it out. She had traveled through the mists with Feanne and Estin, and she knew the risks and pain that came with it. Estin had seen the look she gave the Turessian, the acceptance of her own death when she had decided she would sacrifice herself to try to push the man into the mists, hoping that he would be killed or sent far enough away to never be a threat again.

  Tears came unbidden and Estin leaned against a tree as he fought to keep himself calm, half-watching for the others to catch up.

  He had taken that choice from his daughter, throwing her aside and working with Feanne to drag the Turessian into the mists. The last memory his daughter had of him was him striking her to knock her away from the mists, trying to save her. It was not the way any father wanted his child to remember him. His last memory of her was a look of utter betrayal as he and Feanne had fallen into the mists.

  Feanne’s death was not the fault of the mists, nor even the Turessian. She had bled to death because Estin’s magic had failed him after they came through in the mountain lake. He was the reason she was dead. There was no one else to blame.

  Falling to his knees, Estin sobbed and put a hand to the bag that contained Feanne’s remains. If he had been stronger…if he could have found a way…

  The fox nosed at Estin, snapping him out of his thoughts. She sat down in front of him, giving him more of a sympathetic look than he had believed an animal could.

  “You’re right, girl,” he told the fox, rubbing at her face. “No time for tears now. We’ll go help these fools and then I’ll try to get back to the desert. Either I make it or I don’t. Oria won’t wait forever for me there, so I’ll probably spend my life tracking her and the kits down. I know what I have to do. No reason to feel bad about it.”

  The fox seemed to disagree, pushing aside his hand with her muzzle. She went to the bag that contained Feanne’s ashes and sniffed at it and then backed off and sat down to wait for him again, panting.

  “You have no idea how much I wish you could talk,” Estin admitted, smiling weakly. “I’d love to know why you’re here and have you tell me how foolish I’m being, like Feanne always used to.”

  The fox stopped panting and closed her mouth, smiling. The simple expression on an animal was startling to Estin, and he found himself at a loss for words as the animal resumed panting.

  “Now you’re just creeping me out.”

  Looking genuinely uncomfortable, the fox looked around, then yipped and aimed its nose toward the rest of Estin’s companions, who were hurrying to catch up.

  “Are you all right?” Raeln called out, running to Estin’s side.

  “I’m fine,” snapped Estin, standing back up and averting his face to ensure the tears had a chance to dry before Raeln saw them. The man already had enough worry in him for a lifetime. “Tripped on a root and stubbed my toe. Let’s go.”

  Estin began walking without checking to see if any of the others were following or whether they believed what he had said. He did notice the fox watching him from the corner of her eyes, visibly questioning his reasons for lying. Having a fox watching him with more concern and understanding than the three men behind him was worrisome, to say the least.

  Through his thoughts, he only barely noticed another line of glowing mists far to the west, hugging the mountain line. He would ignore those as long as he could. So long as they were following him, they would not be a threat to his children.

  *

  “That, my friends, is the heart of Urishaan,” announced Yoska, waving an arm across the horizon at the city that lay before them.

  Much like Lantonne before it was torn apart by undead and elemental beings, Pholithia was surrounded by high walls, though unlike the simple ones back in Altis, these were incredibly ornate as well as functional. The walls wrapped around a city they had seen from afar, filled with smaller houses than those back in Lantonne, while the city itself was far larger. Also unlike both Altis and Lantonne, Pholithia had no visible fortress or keep within it. There
were several larger buildings that might have been fortified, but Estin could see no single military structure as they had come down out of the hills. Then again, there had been little visible military presence in Corraith, either, and it had been a hotbed of warfare.

  Before they had reached the plains, Yoska had insisted on beginning their deception, in case they were found by patrols from the city. He had produced a long rope from his pack, which smelled of mildew and a river or lake, that he tied around Raeln and Estin’s necks, giving the appearance of having them leashed, though the knots were loose and easily slipped.

  When the leash had been first offered, Estin had argued and then balked. He knew it was foolish. Yoska had never done anything to make Estin distrust him, but that leash brought back memories of pain and watching his family suffer. He had thought that life was far behind him, but seeing that simple piece of rope had triggered every animal instinct inside him, ranging from panic to seething anger. After much self-debate, he had reluctantly put the leash on, though it felt as though it were choking him despite how loose it was. All the weight of guilt from letting Feanne die was only slightly heavier than that leash.

  Raeln had watched Estin through the whole ordeal, looking very nearly as reluctant to put his own leash on. The man genuinely seemed to want to understand what Estin had been through, but was afraid to ask. Estin was fine with leaving it that way. As much as he wanted Raeln to understand how easy his life had been by comparison, Estin did on some level envy him.

  As though it had been trained to deal with the new rules, the fox that accompanied them fell in at Yoska’s heel rather than Estin’s, keeping her eyes on the ground obediently. The animal had really begun to make Estin wonder, but he decided he would wait until he could be away from the others before investigating how intelligent that fox really was. There was a good chance it had some kind of orders from Feanne, and he had no desire to expose that in front of the others. There were enough mysteries in the wilds that Feanne had explored long before he had come along that he was willing to believe the fox was more than she appeared.

  “Is only while we are near the city,” Yoska repeated for perhaps the thousandth time, somehow having noticed Estin’s scratching at the makeshift collar without looking back. “If I forget to remove it, you may put leash on me for next part of trip. Would make my third wife very happy to hear me say that, but is only fair…”

  Raeln groaned at the man’s constant attempts at humor, making Estin chuckle at his expense. Whether Raeln was a wildling or not, he had never lived around the wilder people of the world and certainly did not seem ready to deal with Yoska’s oddities. Deep down, Estin wished Finth had lived to meet Raeln. The bawdy little man would have horrified the uptight wolf and maybe taught him a thing or two about how others lived. In another lifetime he would have dragged Raeln to half the brothels and bars in the region if only to scare him.

  The small group crossed the wide-open fields between the last of the foothills and the city walls, making their way toward the nearest gate. Unlike Lantonne’s massive iron portcullises, Pholithia’s gates were all wooden and heavily reinforced with metal. They showed no sign of damage, making him wonder if the war had passed the region by. Estin had a feeling he knew better and let his vision shift again, immediately seeing the faint glow of magic on the gates.

  Blinking his sight back to normal, Estin noticed Raeln eyeing the gates in much the same way he probably had.

  “Magic,” said Estin, making Raeln jump. “You were staring at the gates. They’re magical. The doors could be as thin as parchment and hold back an army with the right spells. Lantonne was built the same way, but this city kept the magic fresher.”

  Raeln nodded, though Estin could see he really did not understand. He seemed to have only the vaguest understanding of magic and what it was capable of. One day, Estin thought, he would have to sit the man down and teach him so he was a little less ignorant. He might live longer that way, especially as they continued northward.

  “What is he?” Raeln asked quietly, nodding toward On’esquin. “I know it’s magic, but he won’t explain to me.”

  “He never told me, either,” Estin admitted. “My son threw enough fire at him to burn down a city this size, but he never even flinched. Even the Turessians I’ve fought were easier to hurt, though they didn’t stay down. I think we can trust him, but if he betrays us…”

  Raeln nodded grimly as On’esquin glanced back. Estin was fairly sure he had not heard the brief conversation. Yet another reason Estin was glad to be exactly what he was and not a human or an orc. They had awful hearing and senses of smell. Hiding things from them was simple.

  “Can we trust the other?” Raeln asked a minute later, once Yoska and On’esquin had begun talking quietly among themselves.

  “I would trust Yoska with my life,” replied Estin, knowing it was the truth. In truth he had more than once. “Him and I have an understanding and have saved each other more times than I care to admit. He might stab me in the back, but if he does, there’s a good reason. He does everything with good intentions. He was one of those that got me out of Lantonne’s slave camp.”

  A tug at Estin’s neck reminded him sharply that he was a leashed beast here. Yoska was not intentionally pulling on the two long ropes, but as always, he had a habit of gesturing grandly with both hands as he talked. That simple habit occasionally snapped the leashes taught. Each time it happened, Estin wanted to yank the leash away and hit him with it. Instead, he settled for growling, but Yoska seemed oblivious.

  They soon reached the large gates, which remained closed. Estin looked up at the wall and saw archers atop it, numbering nearly a hundred. There was no sign of undead, which he took as a good sign, even if the men up there appeared more than ready to rain death down on them. If he had to be killed, it was somehow better if another living being did it.

  As they came up on the wooden double doors, one slowly drifted open far enough for a human man to come out. Swarthy and dressed in heavy cottons despite the warm day, the middle-aged man walked out to meet them, holding a piece of parchment attached to a small wooden board. He carried no weapons, but held a piece of charcoal over the parchment like most would hold a sword.

  “Name and business,” the man said loudly, giving Raeln and Estin dark glances. He appeared truly uncomfortable, even twenty feet from them. A look like that made Estin want to tear the man’s face off, to show him he had reason to be afraid. In his place Feanne probably already would have.

  “Is same reason and name as last time, old friend!” Yoska exclaimed, but the man cocked an eyebrow at him, stifling his mood. “Fine, we play along. I am Bandoleer Yoska and I have come to trade on behalf of my family. Pholithia is still open to us, yes? No silly law against the gypsy people, no?”

  “After your last visit, there were discussions of such a law.”

  On’esquin’s head turned very slowly to give Yoska an accusatory stare. There would be uncomfortable discussions once they were safely away from the city, and Estin wanted to be sure he was close enough to hear it.

  “That…small thing? No, no, no, was taken care of, I am sure of it,” answered Yoska quickly, offering his best grin. “He is still mad about little card game?”

  “The prince wanted to gut you and put you on display for about a week,” the man warned. “He has since forgotten, but if he sees you here, I believe he will remember the loss of his daughter’s dowry in that ‘little card game.’ I doubt even you can find somewhere to hide from him if he decides to go after you again.”

  “Perhaps prince should not gamble what he is not willing to lose?”

  “You cheated.”

  Having played games of chance with him back at their old camp, Estin had to lower his head to hide his stifled laughs. The man prided himself on being good enough at cheating that it had become part of the game for him. Nearly every wildling in the camp had owed Yoska a favor by the time Feanne had banned games of chance.

  Yoska put a
hand to his chest, as though offended. “You accuse one of the family of cheating?” gasped Yoska. “You have proof, yes?”

  The man glared a little longer and then began writing on the parchment. “One indigent bringing foreign goods. You do remember you can’t sell those two here, right?”

  “Of course,” the gypsy replied, giving the leash a little tug. “I take them elsewhere to sell. The big green one is hired hand. He makes sure others do not get themselves lost.”

  The man eyed On’esquin nervously and then made a few more marks on his parchment. Once he had finished that, he looked over Raeln and Estin, both of whom lowered their eyes, trying to play their parts, though Estin wondered if he was still fast enough to kill the man before the archers could fire down on them. He was willing to bet he could tear the man’s throat out and be halfway through the gates before a single arrow reached the ground.

  “I’ve documented your property,” the man told Yoska, tapping the parchment with a finger. “If they cause trouble or run free, they will be killed and you will be held responsible. That applies to all three, not only the animals. They hurt anyone, steal anything, or—gods forbid—kill someone, and you are to be treated as though you did it yourself. There will be no negotiation or argument or whining about ancestors. Are we clear on this?”

  “As it has been every time I have come,” offered Yoska, bowing deeply. “I will watch my slaves as I would a gold coin.”

  The man at the gate looked over Raeln and Estin again. “More like a copper coin, but the sentiment is accepted. Welcome to Pholithia. Get out as soon as your business is done.” With that, the man turned and walked back through the gate, leaving the way open for them to pass. High overhead, the archers remained watchful but made no move to attack, giving Estin a bit of relief. A glance over his shoulder at Raeln revealed much the same visible relief as he, too, watched the archers.

  “See?” said Yoska, keeping his voice low as he led the way to the partially open gates. “Is not so bad, yes? City has been one of my favorites for a long time. I tell you it would be perfectly…”