In Wilder Lands

by Jim Galford

  With surprising strength, the man kicked Estin away, where he tumbled and came back to his feet. He was back up just in time to see the Turessian pull the first weapon from his chest.

  From beyond the Turessian, Estin saw movement. At first he thought it might be another ghost or one of the shambling corpses from the main army, but it was Feanne, her jaw and fingers twitching. Somehow, she was alive again and trying to get up. Whatever powers she had, her ability to heal was far beyond anything Estin had expected.

  Summoning the last spell he could manage other than the power to restore life, Estin called upon the spirits that whispered in his mind and brought down all his might in a magical white fire on the Turessian. The flames would only harm an undead and the man screamed as he burned, still pinned to the ground.

  Despite the attack, the Turessian ripped the second sword free and climbed to his feet, patting out the flames as he stood.

  “I sense you weakening,” he said, though now Estin could see only bare skull and those glowing eyes. There was no more pretense of being a living man. He stepped over beside Insrin’s body, gesturing towards the corpse.

  “This one came in with you…he is mine now.”

  With a lurch, Insrin stood, his eyes blank and his jaw hanging limply. He simply stood there, waiting for a command. What Estin could see though, was Insrin’s spirit fleeing the corrupted body in anguish. There would be no way to heal him without Asrahn’s circle now.

  “Fight the black and white monkey to the best of your ability,” ordered the Turessian, pointing at Estin.

  Insrin reached down and numbly picked up his sword, then gurgled a challenge as he rushed Estin. The sword went wide, with Estin easily able to side-step and rake his claws across Insrin’s arm. In a living opponent, the injury would have forced him to drop his weapon, but Insrin just spun on him, attacking blindly again.

  Knowing he might regret his decision later, Estin danced around Insrin’s attack and snaked his tail around and behind him, hooking his neck. With a hard twist of his body, he flipped Insrin backwards. Before the zombie could rise again, Estin leapt on him, driving his elbow into Insrin’s neck, breaking it loudly. Though the head continued to growl vaguely, the body was still.

  “That was less fun than I had expected,” lamented the Turessian. “I am a very busy man. We will need to end this here.”

  Estin tried to run at him as he realized the man was casting another spell, but the distance was too far. Vile magic washed over Estin, attempting to rip his spirit from his body as had happened to the others. He reacted as Asrahn had taught him, sacrificing the ability to grant life to shield his own body from death, effectively negating the spell used on him. He felt it was a safe bet, given that Insrin was beyond his magic and Feanne was moving again.

  “You have done well. Be proud of the death I’ll give you,” laughed the undead, already beginning another spell.

  A roar filled the wood as Feanne leapt to her feet, grabbing the Turessian and slamming him face-first into the ground. She dropped atop him, one of his shoulders in each hand.

  “Holding me down won’t ever win this,” laughed the man, struggling against Feanne’s strength, managing to roll over onto his back. “The moment I find a way, I can kill you again and again. No simple lycanthrope can withstand the lure of death forever.”

  Roaring in the Turessian’s skeletal face, Feanne strained until Estin could see her muscles rippling through her fur. With a loud crack, the Turessian was torn in two, his skull bouncing to a stop nearby. The red glow in his eye sockets faded slowly away.

  Panting, Feanne stood slowly, her feet unsteady. She looked up at Estin, but her eyes seemed to not recognize him before she turned back towards the main undead forces, growling softly. Taking but a single step, she wavered and collapsed.

  Estin dove over Insrin and checked Feanne. She was not breathing. He summoned what little strength he could find in himself, trying to mend any unseen wounds, but the spell fell apart on her lifeless body. Her body then began to break down again, the bones twisting and changing, reverting her to her former self. This went on for almost a full minute, until at last she was as he remembered her, lying limply in his arms.

  “There is a price for every demand,” spoke the Miharon’s voice, coming from several directions, though the creature did not show itself. “You placed restrictions on your request. She did not. I take her life as payment for such power.”

  Struggling with emotion, Estin pulled Feanne onto his lap and cradled her head as he looked between the two bodies, trying to decide what to do. He needed to get them both to Asrahn’s circle in a hurry, but lacked the strength to do so. He was not even sure he could carry one of them in his weakened state. Exhausted, he hung his head in failure.

  At that time, Finth appeared from the woods, followed by Ulra. They ran to him, checking to make sure he, at least, was alive.

  “You should not be here,” Estin said weakly.

  “The undead have their orders to attack the village,” Finth said quickly, motioning to Insrin. Ulra followed his direction and scooped up the male’s body easily. “Nearly everyone is out. The undead have no boss, so they’ll just tear at that village forever if need be.”

  “I don’t care about that…what about her children?”

  Finth smiled and stood beside Estin.

  “They’re safe. Lihuan sent a party to find us when the corpse-ridden village began to burn. I sent the two little ones with Sohan, who I think is their new best friend.”

  “Ulra,” Estin said, struggling to lift Feanne’s body, “can you carry another? We need to get back to our camp.”

  “Of course,” grunted the bear, lifting Feanne with her other arm.

  Feeling mentally and physically drained, Estin staggered along with the others, hurrying as best he could northwards. Though time was crucial in saving the two fallen, he lacked the remaining strength to run. Never in his training had he exhausted his mind like this, having used every last trick and spell Asrahn had taught him. Combined with the regular fighting, his body likely would have given out and forced him unconscious had he not felt the undeniable need to save the two foxes.

  Hours later, though Estin could have guessed minutes to days, they reached Lihuan’s camp. The three moved through as fast as they could, with Finth shoving people aside who were trying to gawk. He cleared them a path straight to Asrahn’s old tent.

  Since the elder had moved back into Lihuan’s tent, Asrahn’s former tent had become mostly unused. It was where Estin trained and where the circle was, but those were its only uses anymore. Thus, when they rushed in, Estin was surprised to find both Lihuan and Asrahn waiting.

  “The kits arrived several hours ago,” Lihuan said testily, motioning to the circle of stones. “Give them back their parents. I don’t have the heart to tell them that both are dead. That is not the first memory my grandkits need of me.”

  Estin had Ulra lay the bodies down, but soon saw that both would not fit within the small circle, while Finth took a seat to one side of the tent, watching nervously. Estin had hoped that between himself and Asrahn, they could begin both at the same time, given how little time there was to save them.

  “Stop dawdling and save my daughter,” ordered Lihuan, his former ability to command respect surfacing out of nowhere. “I expect nothing less of you, Estin.”

  Sliding Feanne’s corpse into the circle, Estin did rapid preparations to guide her spirit back. As he prepped the body and checked for fatal wounds, he shifted his mind, seeing that her spirit was indeed present, hanging limply in the air.

  “How long dead is she?” asked Asrahn, handing him the scented oils they used to focus themselves.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “She died twice. Banshee killed her with a scream, but she got back up and died again about a minute later.”

  Asrahn shook her head.

  “Her crazy wild magic never makes any sense and makes our job harder. Just do what you can.”

>   Stepping back out of the circle, Asrahn began prepping Insrin’s body, tending to his wounds. She gave Estin an annoyed look at one point as she examined his neck and the fur that Estin’s tail had left behind, near his shattered spine, but she did not say anything even to Lihuan.

  With a deep breath to control his fears, Estin shifted his sight again, looking up at Feanne’s hanging spirit, drifting aimlessly over her body.

  “Feanne,” he said, focusing on speaking to the spirit, rather than the room. “Feanne, you need to come back.”

  The spirit drifted off to his left, her head still hanging. It was as though she were unconscious, even as a spirit, her shape suspended by a string from the sky that allowed her to float in almost any direction.

  “Feanne!”

  Slowly, the spirit’s face lifted and looked up at him.

  “Please come back and join us.”

  Estin swore he saw her spirit look down at the body below it, then sigh. She turned once more to Estin, her ethereal hand brushing his face as her sad eyes looked through him. Though having no true ability to touch, Feanne brought her face up alongside his, as though nuzzling him.

  “Do not apologize or say goodbye to me,” he said, temper rising as he moved away from her. “You will not leave. I saw that same look on Ghohar’s face when he chose to depart. You have children here. They are safe, but they need their mother.”

  Feanne’s countenance hardened and she turned to her body again. Even semi-transparent, her eyes were filled with the determination and drive that Estin had always seen in her. This time she sank back into her body. With a choking gasp, the physical form of Feanne lurched and curled into a ball, struggling for breath.

  Wasting no time, Asrahn grabbed her daughter and practically dragged her from the circle, as Lihuan unceremoniously kicked Insrin into it.

  “Bring him back so I can throw this in his face,” growled Lihuan, glaring at the body. “Having my people save his is only so satisfying if I can tell him about it. I hope you won’t mind if I embellish your role, Estin. I think I can drag the story out to at least half a day.”

  Ignoring Lihuan and concentrating yet again, Estin looked beyond and saw Insrin sitting calmly beside his own body, his hand on his chin. It was the most relaxed and perhaps annoyed Estin had ever seen a spirit and at first he thought he must have done something wrong. When the spirit did not change or move, he convinced himself that this was somehow just the way Insrin was while dead.

  “Insrin, please return to us.”

  The fox spirit glanced over at him and just shrugged. It opened its mouth and began speaking, but such was the nature of the link Estin had with spirits that he could not hear anything. He could only address them and only within the circle. This was a new twist and not one he was ready for.

  “Asrahn,” he said, breaking off his attempts to communicate, “can you hear what the spirits are trying to say?”

  “No, I cannot and I am not sure anyone can,” Asrahn answered. “What is he doing?”

  “He’s just sitting there…I think he’s trying to argue with me or lecture me.”

  “That sounds like him,” said Feanne weakly, pulling a blanket over herself, her ears flat back as she huddled for warmth. “Tell him to get back here, or I’ll die again and come after him.”

  Estin relayed the statement, but Insrin rolled his eyes and continued talking.

  “Actually…,” mumbled Finth, stroking his beard. “I drank a gypsy under the wagon last month and he kept babbling about some kind of sight and ancestors and some other rubbish. I kicked him a couple times to shut him up, but maybe they know something we don’t.”

  “Get them!” Estin urged.

  Ulra and Finth disappeared, leaving Lihuan, Asrahn, Feanne, and Estin sitting there waiting impatiently. Throughout it all, Insrin’s spirit glared at Estin, occasionally trying to speak, then becoming angry when he did not answer, usually followed by sulking. After a minute or two, he would start again, as though trying to convince Estin to join the conversation.

  Shortly, Finth returned, almost dragging Bandoleer Yoska.

  “The short man does not explain the rudeness,” the human said, stepping into the tent. “I was having lovely drink with a wife and had he not said who I was to come for, I would have fed him to dogs by now, yes? He just ask, ‘you can speak with spirit’ and I say ‘yes’ and he drag me through the camp.”

  “I apologize, Bandoleer,” Estin said, still sitting in the circle. He noted that Insrin was trying to yell at him again, this time gesturing wildly with his hands, though Estin could make no sense of it. “I have a spirit in this circle who is trying to tell me something before letting me bring him back to life.”

  “Yes, this I see. He is most upset.”

  “Please find out what he wants, so we can save him before his body has been dead too long.”

  “Ah, yes. This I do.”

  The gypsy stepped alongside Estin, squeezing himself into the circle just barely. Sitting as best he could he looked up at Insrin’s spirit and said, “Yes. Do start over. Tell me why you are mad at the man who wishes to make you less dead.”

  For the next twenty minutes, Yoska nodded, agreed, chuckled, and said “I see” repeatedly. Meanwhile, Insrin’s spirit paced the circle, waving his arms as he ranted. Through it all, Lihuan glowered and Feanne’s eyes—the only part of her visible over her blanket—watched nervously, unable to see what anyone but the living were doing.

  Finally, Yoska said “yes, I believe so” and turned to Estin.

  “The spirit would like to accept your invitation back now, though he is very upset about you being the one to heal him.”

  Estin looked at Insrin, who was standing over his own body, watching Estin impatiently.

  “Insrin, please return to us.”

  The body coughed and groaned as life flowed back into him.

  “Grey fox person,” said Yoska, touching Insrin’s arm, “do you remember our conversation?”

  “No,” wheezed Insrin, flinching away from the gypsy. “Who are you and why are you touching me?”

  “I am no one of importance to one as important as yourself, pack-leader Insrin,” said Yoska humbly. “I just help the gypsy-friend Estin with a difficult task, yes?”

  Insrin looked around at the tent and sneered, sitting up as quickly as he could, though he appeared to still be weak and nearly fell over.

  “I need to get back to my village,” he grumbled, trying to stand.

  “Your village is rubble,” Estin told him plainly. “The undead are sacking what’s left of it and probably will be for days, though there are creatures of the wilds helping reduce their numbers. You helped Feanne and I kill their leader.”

  Shaking his head, Insrin just shrugged.

  “The last thing I remember is…,” then stopped and looked at Feanne, whose ears shot up aggressively and her eyes darkened, while still huddling in the blankets. “I remember my mate joining us in battle against my wishes.”

  “Our camp will welcome any of your people who wish to relocate here until the undead are gone for good,” offered Lihuan. “It is the least we can do, given our treaty and our long-standing agreement to be…civil.”

  “Normally I would lead them all away without considering your offer. Given what you’ve done for us, I’ll present it to my people and any who wish to stay, may.”

  Insrin finally managed to get his feet under him, staggering over to Feanne.

  “As soon as you are well enough,” he told her, touching her face gently, “I want you to gather the children so we can get out of these lands.”

  Feanne’s back stiffened and she lifted her head out of the bundled blankets.

  “You want to run away?”

  “I want to keep my family safe and that would not be here.”

  Feanne looked around at the others, then stood up, wrapping the blanket around herself.

  “Excuse me. My mate and I have to discuss matters.”

  The two
departed swiftly and Estin heard hushed arguing before they were a step out the tent’s flap. The softly-spoken angry words drifted away into the night.

  “This is all very exciting,” said Yoska, giving a fake yawn. “However, I must get back to my people. Bandoleer wander too long and everyone drinks up the stores without you.”

  The man stood, then tapped Estin’s shoulder.

  “I would have company on the walk. Is dangerous with undead about, no?”

  Agreeing, Estin hoisted himself to his feet, accepted the brief thanks of Asrahn and Lihuan, then left with the bandoleer.

  They crossed camp slowly, the gypsy taking his time in getting to the blue wagons at the edge of the village. For a time, he kept rubbing at his clean-shaven chin and pursing his lips, but said nothing. From what Estin could see, the man was actually leading him on a longer path towards his camp than necessary.

  “The fox…,” he said at last, almost absently, “the girl, not the boy and not your pack-leader or his wife.”

  “Feanne.”

  “Yes. She is wife of grey fox?”

  “That she is, though we call them life-mates.”

  “I see. You have…how you say…rubbed her man a wrong way?”

  Estin looked up at the taller man quizzically.

  “Just what did he tell you?”

  “He say you and this girl, you were close before he marry her. Very close. I do not think she told him this, but he is no fool. This…closeness…is not something my people disapprove of…in fact, I find it funny how angry this man is about the whole thing, but chose not to laugh at him for it.”

  “He needs to get over it. Our people often have mates long before they choose a single mate for life. What her and I did or did not have between us is none of his concern.”

  “As do ours. He is mad about something else though. He is angry at you…so very angry…because you are no fox. This bothers him that his wife had bedded outside her race.”

  “Breed.”

  “Whatever. This is the start of his anger.”

  “He won her…I lost. There’s no reason for him to be mad at me. I could have reasons to hate him, but I’ve gotten over them.”