The Northern Approach

by Jim Galford

  Estin put his hand over hers, thankful for the contact even if he could not tell her the truth. Soon, he promised himself…once she had remembered more on her own.

  “Tell me about her,” Feanne asked him a moment later, tracing one of his facial scars with the flat of her claw. Without warning she snatched the blanket from him, wrapping it back around herself, once again leaving only her muzzle and eyes peeking out. “And tell me how you got those scars. Those and the ones on your arm and stomach.”

  Estin smiled and watched as Feanne settled down on the floor in front of him to listen. He knew he would have to answer as best he could without giving away too much, though he felt somewhat foolish speaking about things she was a part of as though they were someone else.

  “The facial scars…those were from before she was my mate. Big brute of a wolf wildling gave them to me…even bigger than Raeln. He tried to kill my mate and very nearly succeeded. He had already threatened other members of the pack, but this was the first time he had taken action against us. She couldn’t officially name me her mate because I was viewed as weak by the other wildlings. Beating him got me respect…and her. The scars are actually a good memory in that respect.”

  “The other scars were from the same fight?”

  “No, there have been a lot of fights over the years. The ones on my arm…those are something else. The one on my stomach was an accident that reminds me that even those we love can hurt us deeply when they don’t mean to.”

  Feanne’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at his attempt to avoid talking about the scars on his arm. Given that she had matching ones, he could understand completely, though she let it pass without saying more. Instead of arguing, she slipped her arm out of the blanket and brushed at his neck fur gently, a habit she had always used to coax information out of him when he was trying to be evasive. “And her?”

  “I would rather not…”

  Feanne’s claws tightened on his neck, though not painfully so. She had been rougher in the past by accident when they were alone, usually because she forgot how sharp her claws really were and how much thinner his skin was than hers. “You are willing to push me aside for her memory, the least you can do is tell me why,” she said, her tone no longer quite so gentle. “Raeln, I think I understand now. You are still a mystery.”

  Sighing at the odd position he found himself in, Estin nodded and waited as Feanne settled herself in the middle of the room with her legs tucked under herself. She positioned herself where the air rising from the cracks around the edges of the hole kept the stones a little warmer. She fidgeted under the blanket, keeping only her eyes and nose poked out to watch him, likely trying to trap the warmth that rose from the floor.

  “She was an amazing warrior,” he said once he knew he could not stall any longer. “Hunters all over the region feared her. I heard stories about her that were so incredibly overblown…but she was deadly, no doubt about it. Together we survived things no person should ever be able to claim without being laughed at. Beyond that, she had magic…powerful, amazing magic that made her even more deadly.”

  Feanne stopped fidgeting and popped her ears out of the blanket, though she kept it covering most of her neck. “You make her sound more like Raeln, aside from the magic. Surely you did not fall in love with someone based on her ability to kill people other than yourself?”

  “No,” he replied, grinning. “She was a gentle soul at heart. She was crazy at times, but she lived by her instincts, no matter the price. She would kill a thousand enemies so that she could have five minutes in the arms of a loved one. It was an amazing balance. She taught me how to live outside the cities and gave me a home, a life, and a purpose for living through this war. Without her, I would have been dead long ago.”

  Feanne watched him intently, waiting for more.

  “We made mistakes. Lots of them,” he continued. “No matter how badly I screwed things up, she always said that we should never have regrets, so long as we were honest with each other. I’ve loved her since the day I laid eyes on her and that’s only become stronger with time. Death is not enough to change that.”

  “Interesting,” Feanne replied, letting the blanket fall off of her neck as she clasped it just below her chin, keeping it high on her shoulders. “You say all this and yet you brought me back instead…”

  Estin winced, realizing he had not really thought before speaking. He did not want to lie to her, but he was not certain she was ready to hear the full truth of her old life. He wanted to ease her into it and may have already said too much. Everything he had let slip would lead to more questions that he would have to refuse to answer, sooner or later.

  She went on. “A great warrior. A druid that others feared. A loving mate. Why would you even consider bringing me back, when she is all of these things? On’esquin has plainly said you used up all of your magic and nearly killed yourself in the process…you had one chance at this and I have to believe that you knew this, given your skill. Why did you not bring her back instead? She would have been far more valuable than I am.”

  Estin tried to think of something to say, but anything he thought of would risk shocking Feanne. He was trapped and he knew it. Looking up at her, he prepared to tell her the full truth or tell her he was done answering questions, but then saw her coy smile. She was up to something.

  “You clearly made a mistake,” Feanne told him, shifting under the blanket again. “But no matter…your life-mate is dead. Your oath to her ended on the day she died. Why do you continue to hold to memories that you cannot ever bring back?”

  “Feanne,” Estin replied, though that smile was distracting him. Normally when she smiled like that, either she was about to start a war or she intended to drag him away for time without the kits. “I swore my heart to my mate—”

  “Until death. You have said repeatedly that she died. I clearly do not understand.”

  “That isn’t enough to make me stop loving her. Whether or not she meant the same, the oath was for the rest of my life, not until she died. I won’t…wait…I never said she was a druid. Did Dalania?”

  “Smart answers, Estin,” replied Feanne, and as he watched, she slid a paw out from under her blanket and pushed away the wadded-up robe she had been wearing, along with the rest of her clothing. She then brought her foot back under the blanket and smiled broadly, an expression that would have been intimidating, given the size of her fangs, were it not for the humor in her eyes. “I might have remembered a few things,” she admitted. Her smile was almost malicious, but Estin could not look away. Understanding of who he was and their relationship shone clearly in her eyes. “As I recall, you are excellent at keeping a female warm during a snowstorm.”

  “How long have you known?” Estin demanded, his heart racing again. “And how did you get out of the robe like that?”

  “I have remembered bits of our time together each time we touched, but was not able to remember how those things fit together until we came here. This was similar enough to another time that the memories—and the feelings associated with them—returned while you were talking. You helped me piece together much of my memory. The robe will remain my secret, though if we survive our journey, I promise to give you more than one chance to figure out my trick.”

  “And exactly how much do you remember?”

  Feanne shook her head. “Not everything. I remember a foolish young male risking himself to save me from dogs. I remember that same foolish male standing with me in front of my pack, pledging himself to me. I also clearly remember that it has been far too long without my mate in my arms.”

  “Feanne, there’s more that I need to tell you—”

  Reaching out with one arm while keeping the blanket covering herself with the other, Feanne grabbed Estin’s robe and pulled him toward the middle of the cave. Once they were in the only flat part of the cave, she quickly wrapped them both in the blanket and dug her claws into Estin’s shirt. She eased him down onto the floor atop her and he wrapped his tail ar
ound for her to use as a pillow.

  “So does this mean you aren’t after Raeln anymore?” asked Estin as Feanne nipped at his neck playfully. He had already forgotten what he had been about to tell her.

  “No more than you are pursuing Lorne,” she replied, giving him a look he recognized all too well. It meant simply, “Shut up, Estin,” or possibly, “Estin, you are being a fool.”

  It took them almost no time to shed the robes Estin still wore and strip off the rest of his clothes, the two of them finally in each other’s arms after months—it felt like years—apart. Even the time before Feanne’s death, they had been separated much of the time, thanks to the war. Before that, there were always the kits nearby. This was honestly the first time in a year or better that Estin could remember being alone with the person he loved.

  As Feanne wrapped her legs around him, Estin faintly heard movement outside the crevice where they were hiding, but he was far too distracted for it to even register that he heard it until he heard the next crackle of the stones. Panicking, Estin reached past Feanne, trying to grab his swords.

  “Estin?” came Raeln’s voice from somewhere outside.

  “This is not happening,” Estin grumbled, flopping sadly on top of Feanne as she stifled laughter unsuccessfully.

  “Estin…Feanne…are you down there?”

  Pulling the blanket more tightly around them, Estin shouted back, “Go away!”

  Estin heard the crackling from the shifting stones at the entrance of the cave as someone heavy tried to walk on them, coming down into the cave. “Estin? Are you both alright?” Raeln said, this time sounding as though he were just outside the blanket Estin had set up as a door. “We were concerned you might have fallen into one of these holes and hurt yourselves.”

  “Raeln, so help me,” Estin called back as he got up off of Feanne, while she continued to laugh with her face buried in his chest fur. “If you set one paw in here, I will destroy you.”

  “So…you want me to go away?”

  Answering for him, Feanne called out, “We are not responsible for anything you see if you come in here, Raeln. We lived with a hundred other wildlings within earshot at all times and you traipsing around isn’t going to stop us.”

  “How long should I wait? And…no one is hurt? Are you changing into warmer clothing? Stop you from what?”

  Sighing, Estin replied, “Raeln, I told you to go away. I will find some shred of magic to reduce you to ash if you don’t walk away from this cave for at least an hour.”

  Estin heard whispers outside as Raeln relayed the information to the others. A moment later, Raeln said, “You want us to wait out here? In the cold?”

  This time Feanne’s laughter was joined by Yoska’s, and Estin swore he heard Dalania groan with disgust. Whether the groan was for him or for Raeln, he was not sure.

  “He isn’t going away, is he?” Estin asked Feanne, who covered her mouth as she continued to fight to keep from laughing. She shook her head, barely covering up her giggles. “And I’m betting he doesn’t know why…”

  Turning toward the entrance of the cave again, Estin shouted, “Yoska! Explain it to him!”

  The last thing Estin heard beyond the sound of people climbing back out of the crack in the ground was Yoska’s voice. “Raeln, my dear friend. When two sober people truly like each other…first, there is much joking behind back by friends and cousins, followed by making sure they are less sober, so they do not hide how they feel. Then, they tell nosey friends to go away while they get to know one another better. Today, you are nosey friend and I think you need special friend of your own.”

  *

  Estin rode beside Feanne as the sun rose over the snow-dusted plains, occasionally looking over at her and smiling—something he had caught her doing as well. He had honestly never thought he would have his mate back, not truly, and could not hide his happiness at it. A bloody war and the bitter winds could never diminish his joy at having Feanne back in his life. Seeing her sharing his feelings in public was more than he could have ever wished for.

  Raeln, on the other hand, had been sulking pretty much since the moment Estin and Feanne had come out of the tiny cave to get winter clothing from On’esquin. Throughout the evening and even in the morning when they had been forced to spend time cutting holes for their tails in the clothing, he had been pouty and quiet. From what Yoska had told Estin, it was a combination of upset over losing his own loved ones and embarrassment over being ignorant of why Estin had threatened him. Sometimes Estin wondered if the man had grown up in a monastery, as sheltered as he seemed to be.

  It was well after sunrise before Estin even cared to pay attention to where they were going. He looked over his shoulder at the rising sun and realized it should have been directly on his right, but it was somewhat behind him on his right. For a moment he thought they were merely avoiding a section of road, but when he saw On’esquin check his map and had them veer even farther west, he knew something in the plan had changed.

  “Where are we going?” he asked, getting a shrug from Yoska. Dalania was somewhat more helpful, pointing at On’esquin as she let her horse fall behind the rest to allow Estin a clear path to the orc, who rode beside Raeln. “On’esquin,” Estin called out, nudging his horse a little faster. “This isn’t the way. Turessi is north of here. I saw your map enough times to know. We’ll be miles offtrack going this direction.”

  Glancing at Estin, On’esquin grunted and pointed somewhat northwest. “We are going somewhere else first.”

  “We agreed that I would help you get into Turessi. I never agreed to wander all over Eldvar with you. We have to get back to…” Estin trailed off midsentence, checking to see if Feanne was listening. Thankfully she had begun chatting with Yoska. He had meant to break the rest of that information to her, but there had been no time alone to do so since they had left the cave. Each time he had tried to talk with her before they left the cave, she had nipped at him and told him to be quiet. “We need to get back to our children.”

  “I am aware and I apologize,” On’esquin replied curtly. “I would not short you any time with your loved ones. I ask that you extend me the same courtesy. We are stopping by a gravesite to speak a few words over a friend’s remains. Nothing more. It will delay us no more than a day, if we keep moving.”

  “Does this friend have a name that we might know?”

  “He does, but having me say it does not change anything. You suspect and are likely correct. Continue glaring at the back of my head.”

  Estin let his horse fall behind again, dropping back with Feanne and Yoska, while Dalania trailed behind them, quiet as always. He could see concern in all of their faces, but no one was speaking about where they were going. They simply followed, likely because Raeln was at On’esquin’s side.

  “As I was saying,” Yoska said a moment later to Feanne, “is good to have you back. Estin is good company and Raeln is good warrior, but you were always both and you could give me fine challenge in drinking. I welcome our next epic battle that the bards will sing of for a generation.”

  “I never knew you drank with the gypsies,” replied Estin, somewhat surprised. The gypsies had mostly irritated Feanne from what he could recall.

  “The pack had leadership issues before you came back, Estin,” she told him, grinning. “I had to fight a great many people to solidify control. The gypsies insisted on a drinking contest. Apparently, I did well, though that is somewhat of a blur.”

  Yoska nodded and added, “Quite well. Four of my cousins proposed marriage…well, three men proposed and one woman. Feanne refused, which they took to mean she wished to drink with us again in the future to get better selection of men…or women. This, of course, is before you came back, yes? We were very respectful after. Was gypsy way of helping your love deal with grief, I think.”

  “That reminds me,” Feanne noted, turning to Yoska. “I do not remember you saying how you managed to survive the attack on the camp. I have seen the hole in your
shirt and the way you favor that side, but as I recall, a Turessian came after you.”

  “My daughter, yes. Varra is far better knife-fighter than I am, I must admit. Is something that in hindsight was bad thing to teach that child, no? I recommend you not teach children how to kill you.”

  Estin and Feanne waited for him to go on, but he stared at the road ahead, saying nothing. Feanne seemed not to react to the remark about children, which told Estin he was far from off the hook about explaining to her.

  “And you survived how?” Estin finally prodded. “A knife up under the ribs usually kills people. I remember Varra, and I doubt she would have walked away if she had any doubts about you being dead.”

  “A gypsy got lucky. Is that so hard to believe? Is not story I wish to talk about.”

  Feanne eyed him with skepticism and let her eyes fall to his side. She stared at it a moment and told him, “If I wished to rip out your heart, that is precisely where I would strike. Do not ask how I know this. I would assume she intended to put that knife in your heart. You should have at least bled to death.”

  “And since when have you not spoken about anything?” added Estin.

  Yoska began to look truly uncomfortable and Estin realized he was not watching the road, but On’esquin. After a moment, he slowed his horse to drop back farther from Raeln and On’esquin, while Dalania rode around them to take a spot alongside Raeln at the lead. “Is considered superstition, even to gypsy,” Yoska said quietly. “Outsiders think most things gypsies say about ancestors is superstition, but this is very old one that even we do not believe. I prefer to think my Varra was careless.”

  Reaching down to his belt, Yoska held up the simple goblet Estin had brought him years earlier. Varra had died—and become a Turessian in the process—trying to free that old relic from an Altisian museum.

  “Bandoleers who carry the cup of their clan are said to be very hard to kill,” he told them, wiggling the cup in the air. “Is silly, no? Cheap metal goblet with lots of sentimental value does not save lives. I thought it a story for children, but then I woke with hole in my side and say, ‘Yoska, you taught girl better than that! She would not miss your heart, no?’”