The Northern Approach

by Jim Galford

  “You can and you will,” snapped Estin, which seemed to break Raeln out of his fear momentarily. “There are four people at the bottom who are depending on you to lead them. Grow a spine and get ready to move. Conquer your fear or we all die.”

  His ears flattening back, Raeln closed his eyes and struggled to stay upright. Without anything to look at, he wavered in place, but Estin put a hand on his chest, holding him where he was. Slowly Raeln’s breathing slowed and his death grip on the wall loosened enough that Estin took one of his hands.

  “Stay like that. I will be our eyes. Just move as I guide you and stay in your happy place.”

  Raeln’s face twitched as he strained to keep from snapping out of the meditation, but he did move when Estin pulled him along the wall. Slowly, step by step, they moved down the ledge, gaining speed as they went. Soon Estin was able to walk almost as fast as he did with Dalania and they moved rapidly to the end of the path. There, Estin stopped, while Raeln’s eyes remained tightly shut.

  “Raeln,” Dalania said, coming up and taking Raeln’s hand from Estin. “We’re here.”

  Raeln opened his eyes and glanced back up the path and then down at Dalania. Reaching over, he grabbed Estin and pulled him into a smothering hug that Estin thought might crush his ribs. “Thank you,” the wolf whispered, while Estin struggled to free himself from his ironlike grip. “You saved my life up there.”

  “No time for this,” grunted Estin, prying Raeln’s arm off of himself and backing away before Raeln could catch him again. “Undead are coming. We need to get moving again.”

  As a group, they turned to On’esquin, who gazed up at the winding slope up the wall of the ravine. Quietly, he muttered, “I’ve always hated coming down. Would have been better if I could have worked out steps of some kind. No matter, we should get in there and out before the others arrive. They will likely stop chasing us to explore the tomb, giving us time to escape.”

  Turning sharply, On’esquin headed toward what Estin thought was a broken and collapsed section of the ravine, with Yoska close behind him. The rest of them were slower to follow, with Feanne taking Estin’s hand and pulling him along, while Dalania helped Raeln walk on his shaking legs.

  The fallen stones at the end of the ravine were not there by natural causes, Estin soon realized. They had been knocked down and rolled to their current position, making it impossible to see the outer wall of the ravine without getting close. Following On’esquin among the stones, Estin was soon able to spot a carved archway in the wall, which was where On’esquin headed without hesitation. The place would be impossible to see until someone was well into the fallen stones, with no clear way to even see the area near it from atop the ravine walls.

  Stopping at the entrance, Estin stared at the sigils that ran all the way around the archway, flowing one into the next in the Turessian script he had seen far too many times in Corraith. Similar rune-words had marked the tomb where Estin had first found On’esquin and he had seen a few in the ruins under Corraith.

  “What does it say?” asked Raeln, stopping behind Estin and Feanne.

  Yoska looked back and answered for On’esquin, while On’esquin continued farther into the dark cave, “It says something like, ‘Here lies one forgotten. Those who enter will remain with him.’”

  “Cheery,” said Estin, shaking his head. “Let’s get moving.”

  Squeezing Feanne’s hand more tightly, Estin headed into the cave after Yoska, who had begun fumbling with his bags, while On’esquin held a torch out for him to light.

  After several seconds of the men making no progress, Dalania raised her hand and whispered something. As she did, pale green light flooded the area, radiating from her palm. “You say to hurry, but you forget where you put your flint?” she asked incredulously, holding the light up over her head. “How did any of you survive on your own? I would have started hunting for it the moment I saw a dark cave.”

  Estin laughed at her—even more so when he saw the annoyed looks on Yoska and On’esquin’s faces—and took the lead, as he could see farther into the cave than On’esquin. The orc dropped in behind him and Feanne, whispering warnings about curves in the cave that were coming up.

  “When the cave widens, I’ll need to go first,” warned On’esquin once they were about a hundred feet into the tomb. “For the first time in your life, lacking honor markings on your face will be a liability here. Those I left here can read one’s markings, and while they will kill those with markings, they will see you as a runaway servant who is beneath their attention. Any orders I left for them will be disregarded when it comes to you.”

  Estin gave the man a questioning look, but he said nothing further.

  They walked on, the passage winding back and forth several times. From what Estin could see, the passage was man-made, since he could see the occasional tool markings. He was starting to understand why it had taken On’esquin so long to prepare the place. Every fifty feet or so, another set of markings would appear to let him know they were still going the correct direction.

  “Estin,” whispered Feanne as a large rusted iron grating came into view, blocking the path ahead. “We should leave.”

  Estin stared hard into the dark but could see nothing past the grating. Turning to Feanne, he saw she was shaking, her eyes wide with horror. When he grabbed her arms, she flinched and squeezed her eyes shut. “What’s wrong, Feanne?” he asked, while the others stopped right behind her. The narrow passage left little room for them to get past. “There’s nothing there. We need to keep going.”

  Feanne nodded but kept her eyes shut. She had dug her feet in and would not budge. “I know. I…I see him, Estin. I see him dying. I can still feel that monster breaking my arm when I tried to go back for him.”

  Slowly, Estin turned back to the grating and realized what this was triggering in Feanne. Their son, Atall, had been cut off from them in an underground passage not entirely dissimilar from the one they now stood in, stuck behind an iron grating. While they had watched, a Turessian had torn Atall’s chest open and thrown his body into the mists to ensure no one could save him.

  “Feanne, this is not the time,” Estin said quickly, trying to get her to look at him. “We need to hurry. Whatever you’re seeing, we need to talk about it once we’re safe.”

  “Atall,” Feanne whispered and collapsed on the spot, nearly taking Estin down with her. “My son. I saw my son murdered. How could I have forgotten that?”

  Pulling himself to the side of the passage to let On’esquin and the others squeeze past, Estin knelt beside Feanne. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she trembled, her eyes still tightly shut.

  “They killed our son, Estin,” she whispered, once the others had gone on and were working at opening the gate that stood in their way. “How could a mother forget that? How could I forget my son? This is what you wanted to tell me…”

  “Do you remember the others?” asked Estin, no longer willing to hold anything back. It was far too late to be careful. She had to know everything and recover before they had to flee the tomb. He needed her to remember the good things that they were fighting to protect, not the child they had lost.

  “I do,” Feanne said in reply, burying her face in his shoulder. “Oria is watching our newborns. They need us, Estin. Why are we here? We need to go to them!”

  “They are a year of travel away, Feanne. Maybe farther than that. I’ve been trying to find some way back, but everything pushes us farther from them.”

  As she dug her claws painfully into Estin’s shoulder, Feanne curled into a ball and sobbed uncontrollably, clinging to Estin for support. No matter what he said to her, all she replied with were whispers of the names of their children, over and over, in an apparent attempt to keep from forgetting them again. She rocked back and forth, holding Estin so tightly that he could barely breathe, though he was happy to know her recovery was finally nearing its end, even if that came minutes before they both would die as the undead storm
ed the tomb.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Approaching Prophecy”

  “My dearest friend…I will see all of you soon in the place you are taking me.”

  - Last words of Turess.

  “We need to wait for them, On’esquin,” Raeln insisted yet again, once the gate had been forced open. “You said yourself that Estin needed to be ready for this. I can’t even see him back there.”

  “There is no time for that,” On’esquin said, continuing on into the dark. The path widened quickly after the gate and On’esquin stood at the opening to a far larger room, peering into the darkness with his spear held at the ready. “Stay close or they will kill you all.”

  “They?” asked Yoska, moving much closer to On’esquin.

  Raeln started to argue again, but whispers around them caught his ear. Looking around, he could see almost nothing beyond Dalania’s magical light, but the voices were all around them. Instinctively, the others closed in on him, with every one of them facing out toward the dark. “What’s out there, On’esquin?” he asked while they inched forward.

  “When I killed Oramain, there were consequences,” On’esquin said as he led them deeper into the room. “He took the lives of thousands and contained their spirits within himself for use at a later time. That was the power I gave Estin, but it was the power I originally had to overcome to defeat Oramain. Like all of the original creations of Dorralt, he had an incredible access to magic that exceeded anything that our wisest sages could teach. That magic and everything he had consumed had to go somewhere when I destroyed his body. I could only contain them for a few hours.”

  A faint shimmer in the dark was the first hint of anything more than voices. Raeln watched as the shimmer solidified into a ghostly image of a human woman, holding an infant. Both glared at him with utter hatred, their eyes glowing faintly yellow against the wall of black all around them. They did not advance, but Raeln had to wonder if it was because they could not or were not ready to. His warrior instincts warned him that they might be a distraction while others surrounded the group.

  More ghosts appeared as they continued, flickering into existence one after another. They were of different ages and races, but most wore simple robes. On the faces of a few, Raeln could see Turessian tattoos shimmering, but details such as those were difficult to make out. What he did see very clearly was the horde of long-dead had closed them in, preventing any way out. They could go on for the moment, but there was no leaving without going through the ghosts.

  “With Oramain gone, the spirits were free and more than willing to strike at anyone who might have been involved in their deaths,” On’esquin continued as he advanced. “Their anger will never fade, but they will also never be controlled again. These are spirits that the Turessians can never use against mankind. They will destroy anything that comes here, other than myself.”

  “Not reassuring,” Raeln said, stepping in front of Dalania to shield her as the semitransparent shape of an ogre came closer. It stopped and regarded Raeln with disgust, reaching up to point at its tattoos before pointing at him. Then, dragging its finger across its throat, it made very clear what it thought of him. “Tell me again why this is a good idea?”

  “Stay here,” ordered On’esquin. “You will see.”

  Walking out away from the group, On’esquin lowered his hood. Immediately, every spirit in the room hissed and moved to block him from walking any farther. They created a wall that he would need to walk through if he wished to go anywhere but back the way he came. That change in positioning allowed Raeln and the others some room to breathe.

  Just in front of the wall of spirits, three more appeared. These were orcs, unmistakable with their heavy build and thick limbs. Raeln watched as their details became clearer, revealing a woman and two young children. The three of them stepped forward, directly in front of On’esquin.

  “Hello, my love,” said On’esquin softly, his voice carrying more than he likely intended in the chamber. “Do what you must. The time has come. I must take him from here.”

  With a shriek that deafened Raeln, the three ghosts tore into On’esquin, ripping through his armor and clothing before spraying blood and bone across the room. A second later the rest of the spirits fell on him, joining in on the blood frenzy like sharks. They tore his body apart while On’esquin stood there, never even falling.

  Then, as suddenly as the attack had come, the spirits began to wink out. Within seconds the room was silent, aside from the snaps of On’esquin’s bones moving back to where they belonged and the wet slurps of his wounds closing.

  He turned slowly, facing the group as his jaw rose from his chest back to its sockets and his armor’s broken pieces restored themselves. “That is why I go first,” he explained, stretching his neck and popping it loudly. “They cannot kill me, and yet they will vent their hatred against me when I move toward Turess’s remains. Their anger burns brightly, but not for long. Come. We need to hurry before their anger brings them back.”

  Raeln had trouble concentrating on his steps as the group followed On’esquin deeper into the room. All he could think of was the brutality of the ghosts and their possible return as he watched the dark for that telltale shimmer of one returning.

  “This is it,” On’esquin announced a moment later, and Raeln saw he had stopped in front of a simple stone casket. Unlike the door into the tomb, there were no markings on it. “An unmarked grave among my people is a clear sign of one who had no rank or importance. I had no choice but to dishonor my master to keep him out of the hands of those who would use him against everything he once stood for. Honor through dishonor, he told me once. I bring shame on myself and my family to spare his honor in the long-run.”

  Putting his hands on the stone lid of the coffin, On’esquin pushed until his arms shook, but it moved less than an inch. “I need help, Raeln,” he admitted. “Ten of us put this here. Only I remain.”

  Going over to On’esquin, Raeln put his shoulder against the coffin lid and braced his legs. Nodding, he pushed as hard as he could as On’esquin did the same. They strained and grunted, the stone sliding so slowly that Raeln wondered if they would ever manage to open it fully. At last the lid rocked and tilted, opening up the coffin more than halfway.

  “Good!” panted On’esquin, and Raeln stopped, nearly collapsing. “That should be enough. Let me gather the bones and we can go. Five minutes and we flee this place.”

  Raeln sat down hard at the base of the coffin, trying to catch his breath. He could hear On’esquin rustling around inside the stone box, gathering the many bones there and wrapping them in a white shirt and black jacket he took from his pack. Meanwhile, Yoska watched the dark for the return of the spirits, clearly as nervous about that eventuality as Raeln was.

  It was Dalania who caught Raeln’s eye, having expected her to be in a full panic after the undead attacked. She was not looking at anything in particular, but instead her eyes were distant and her head cocked as she listened to something. He watched her for a few seconds, idly scratching at the bracelet that had fused to his arm. While he watched, her eyes darted around at things that were not in the cave with them.

  “What is it?” Raeln asked.

  Dalania blinked and looked around. “We are too late,” she answered, bringing On’esquin to an abrupt halt. “They have started down into the ravine. They used some form of magic to hasten their arrival. Their undead are already down here, having been thrown off the ledge at the top to cut off any escape.”

  “How can you know that?” asked Raeln.

  “A carrion bat flying overhead. It saw them and so too did I.”

  “We can’t let them have him!” On’esquin said and angrily punched the coffin’s side, sending shards of stone flying. “Can you imagine what they would do with him? Think of your friends and kin, turned into monsters like them. Their attacks would advance, led by the man who conquered most of the known world. He was the one to figure out how to stop the advance of the m
ists the last time. I cannot have him leading their army!”

  Yoska glanced back and said, “Unless dead man wants to get up and help us, is too late to be upset. We need to flee. Is there other way out?”

  “No,” On’esquin replied, sitting down beside Raeln and burying his face in his hands. “He’s right. We should already be running, but there is nowhere left to go. I had not planned for this. The spirits will slow the Turessians…but it will not be enough to save us. Not nearly enough.”

  Walking over to the coffin, Dalania leaned over it, examining the corpse inside. After a moment, she said, “His spirit still lingers, though not angry like those we met. This is more like Feanne, following Estin and waiting for him to save her.”

  “Only we no longer have Oramain’s spirit or Estin’s magic to help us,” snapped On’esquin, followed by a few seconds of muttering in old Turessian. Sighing, he added, “Estin was likely the last person in the world with the power to help. There is no one like Oramain left. Estin was to be our last hope if a situation like this arose. Even another healer would be useless in this.

  “I do suppose I know why Turess would linger. He would have waited forever for his wife, but she is as long gone as he is. She never did return.”

  The room fell into silence briefly before Estin’s voice shouted from the halls, “They’re coming! I can hear them outside!”

  Sighing, On’esquin covered his face again. He gradually clenched his hands into fists and hit the ground, then stood up. Taking his spear, he looked down at Raeln. “We die warriors and heroes, still,” On’esquin announced. “I would make this a battle worthy of what I had once hoped to accomplish. If I cannot put my hands on Dorralt, his minions will have to do.”

  Reaching down to Raeln, On’esquin grabbed his wrist just below the bracelet as he helped Raeln up. Once Raeln was standing, On’esquin did not let go but continued to stare at the piece of jewelry, his anger fading to confusion. “Yoska,” said On’esquin, turning Raeln’s wrist to see the other side of the bracelet, “hand me that cup of yours.”