by Jim Galford
Sadly, Estin held her head against his chest, trying not to join in her tears. They had repeated this scene at least once a day for several weeks. Feanne would go out in the morning, spending hours patrolling the woods for any sign of her lost family, then would return and rage at the grove, trying to elicit the help of the woodland spirits to no avail. She would not eat all day, focusing on trying to get the Miharon to come to her, unless Estin came and set food in front of her, pushing her to eat it. Whether she had eaten or not, come evening, she would leave the grove, going back to her patrol of the woods, sometimes straight through until morning.
Estin had taken to coming several times through the day, trying to get through to her, but he knew he was making no progress. At the least, he kept her from hurting herself and made her sleep every so often. It was all he could do for her and that terrified him, knowing he might not return once he left. He was not sure if she would be alive when he did come back, if he ever did.
“Goodbye Feanne,” he told her, stroking the burr and mud-ridden fur of her cheek. “Please take care of yourself while I am gone.”
He hesitated a moment, then added, “I love you.”
She did not answer him, just mumbling vaguely about failing to take care of her own children. Feanne twitched as she drifted near sleep, occasionally snarling and whispering Insrin’s name.
Estin remained there as long as he could, brushing the matting and burrs out of Feanne’s fur with his claws. He knew from Asrahn that this was something he should not be doing for a female that belonged to another male, but he did it anyway. It was at least something he could do beyond feeding her that made him believe he was doing right by his lost friend and once-love.
Eventually, the time came to go, and Estin pried Feanne off of him, easing her to the ground where she trembled and whispered as she slept. For a little longer, he knelt beside her, his heart crying out against the injustice that had turned the regal female he had known a year earlier into this, even as he was placed in the face of responsibility. Saying the world was cruel was so much of an understatement.
Leaning close, Estin nuzzled Feanne’s cheek briefly, then he got up and headed to the east end of the camp, where he was to meet with the human forces, wiping tears off his face most of the way there.
Collected at the meeting area, he found a large spattering of warriors from every misfit group that had gathered at the camp. Two gypsies sat near the front of the group, drinking heavily with several dwarves, all boasting about the feats they would perform for their people. Beyond them, a dozen elves sat in quiet contemplation of the day, their faces ashen. To one side of the elves, all four of the orcs that had wandered into camp the month prior were girded for battle, their lust for battle driving them to volunteer the moment they had heard of the plan, even before they had introduced themselves to much of anyone. A group of four fae-kin stood waiting near the elves, their faintly green skin and antlers marking them as woodland-descended. A single halfling lounged off to a side of the gathering, napping with the remains of shortbread cookies lying nearby…from what Estin knew, that was likely comfort food for the short man. Standing forefront, a squad of six wolven wildlings stood at attention, watching Estin approach. The remainder of the army was entirely human and more or less ignored Estin’s arrival.
“The general left us with direction to the ambush point,” said one of the wolves, approaching Estin, as he produced a rough sketch on parchment. “He says that we will have a week’s march to get there, two days at most to complete the task, then…if we can…we come home.”
“Who is carrying the weapon?” Estin found himself asking.
“Two of the elven wizards are the designers of the weapon,” the wolf answered, lowering his tone. “They wish to keep it close to them, lest we have any traitors in the group. I’ve already checked their baggage and found it on the brown mare. If you want us carrying it, just say the word. One of our females is particularly sneaky.”
Estin followed the wolf’s quick glance, spotting a specific horse in a cluster that would carry the humans’ gear and food. It had large saddlebags, but carried nothing else.
“Good work,” Estin told him. “Might I get your name? I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Greth. We have met, but I was very young at the time.”
Estin eyed the wolf, gauging his age at around four years, perhaps less. He studied Greth’s markings and soon realized that they were familiar. It had been a while, but he knew both this wolf’s markings and those of his father.
“You are Ghohar’s child. Are you of age yet? I didn’t think Lihuan was letting younger members go along.”
“No, but I have Lihuan’s permission to go. I swore to help you avenge my father’s death long ago. I was not going to wait two more months for a ceremony that means little just to join you.”
Estin gave him a welcoming clasp on the shoulder, then excused himself and approached a human wearing markings on his steel armor that set him apart from the others.
“You will lead?” Estin asked the man. “Is this your troop?”
The man squinted up at him, then eyed his armor, including Estin’s tail snaking behind him. His eyes settled on the necklace Estin wore.
“Yeah. Lieutenant Linn at your service. I presume you’re our token healer?”
“Yes. My name is Estin. I’ll be fighting alongside you, but I can heal your men. I wouldn’t consider myself a token healer…”
“When we’re expecting to die, a healer is more for show than anything else, but we do appreciate your coming, Estin.
“I think we’ve got everyone,” added the human. “We leave in one hour.”
*
The long journey across the foothills and down onto the plains had been exhilarating for Estin. He had dreamed much of his life of traveling to other lands, unhindered by his race, but had never left Altis before going to Lihuan’s camp. Now, he watched the changing scenery with wide eyes, taking in everything, riding near the head of the small army, as if he were a real person in these lands for the first time in his life.
The longest portion of the trip had been in descending the mountains, chewing up the first three days of travel. Once they reached the foothills proper, they had made good time, heading across the plains towards the raging battles in the southeast.
The first night on the plains, Estin had lain in his bedroll, listening to explosions that echoed across the land. He could not even fathom a battle so violent that days of travel away he could still hear the actions of the armies. Dim flashes of light made the night sky flicker, as though a thunderstorm were coming, bringing with it lightning of nearly any imaginable color.
By day, they soon began to see the shapes of the huge war golems on the horizon, appearing like tiny mountains in their own right. Had they not been moving, Estin would never have known what they were. In another two days, their dwarven features came steadily into view, even as Lantonne slowly crept onto the horizon.
This city was not as rugged as Altis, but Estin thought it just as marvelous in design. Large smooth walls guarded the tiny village inside, with a single wide keep tower in the middle. From what he could see, the majority of the people in these lands lived outside the walls of their fortress. That put them squarely in harm’s way, with the mighty golems fighting against the undead legions just outside of the walls.
Pulling a horse alongside Estin, Lieutenant Linn told him out of the blue, “The plan is to get the golems to drive the undead into an old quarry way to the north of Lantonne. If we can get them down there, the city should be safe from the explosion, as far away as it’ll be.”
“Lihuan said that there was to be an escape point for us. How far do we need to get out once the weapon is planted?”
Linn frowned, his young features having deepened into lines during their trip. From what Estin had gathered, the man had seen many battles, but he was still very young to be leading an attack like this. Still, he handled himself well.
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��The old mining town at the lip of the quarry is abandoned from what I’m told. The buildings are old but sturdy. I was hoping the quarry itself will absorb enough of the explosion to make the top safe. We might get an hour at most. I don’t think anyone really knows how bad this will be, even if I keep getting suggestions to get into that mining town or beyond. No promises on safety anywhere, though. If you manage to get out, just keep running…I know I will.”
“There’s nothing sure about anything we’re doing,” Estin noted wryly, but the human just stared straight ahead, his expression grim. “Do you fear dying, Linn?”
The human turned slowly, his expression confused and mildly annoyed.
“I do not fear dying with an army at my back against a foe we have a chance of defeating. Tomorrow, we face an enemy that will try to kill us and use our bodies to murder our families. I do not wish to become that which I fight against. That is what I fear, wildling.”
Estin nodded at the sentiment.
“A friend once told me to avoid regrets and always live your days expecting to die, so that it is no surprise when it does happen. All we can ask for is a good death.”
The human smiled briefly and answered, “Smart friend. A good death right now is one that’s permanent. Anything else puts us on the other side of our next fight.”
“Then we should just not die, Linn.”
*
They stood on the stone edge of the quarry, fifty men and women strong, staring down at a legion that defied imagination. Thousands of undead raged in a sea of death, flinging magical attacks at the war golems, even as zombies and skeletons attempted to climb the golems pointlessly. Deep gouges and cracks in the golems’ legs gave some indication of the persistence of the undead in their struggles, as well as burns and other damage where magic had scarred the metal. Even creations as mighty as the war golems would not last forever against the undead.
The company had arrived late in the morning, just as the fourth war golem had dragged its arms along the ground, driving thousands of undead over the cliffs into the quarry. Estin had watched this amusedly, right up until the entire force of undead got back up at the bottom. He had continued to watch as the golem had thrown itself into the quarry as well, smashing hundreds of the undead, only to have them get right back up shortly after the golem did.
“Now,” continued the elf who had been lecturing the company on the explosive weapon’s uses for almost an hour, “the explosion will likely disrupt all magic within the region for several minutes. If you are using magical weapons or items, they will cease to work briefly. This applies also to the war golems, which might fall over, of course excluding the one we’re blowing up. Even if you survive the explosion…the golems will fall on you, if you are still down there.”
Estin squinted at the golems, which were nearly tall enough to reach the top of the immense quarry. Their heavy armored forms were solid everywhere he could see.
“Where does the weapon go?” Estin asked loudly from his perch on the edge of the quarry. “We were told that it just attaches to the golem.”
“Excuse me?”
“Where do we put the weapon on the golem? You’ve left that out.”
The elf glanced around at the soldiers nervously, then finally answered, “In the head, please. That is where its power core is.”
Estin watched as the two-hundred foot golems twisted and smashed at their small foes. The faces were solid, each with the features of a legendary dwarven hero, from what Finth had told him.
“How by the dragon’s scales do you intend us to get onto the head?” demanded Linn, grabbing the elf by the shirt roughly. “You couldn’t have mentioned this a week ago? A month, maybe?”
The entire company erupted into blame and shouting, as the humans debated whether to throw the elf over the ledge and then go home. The majority seemed in favor of it.
Eyeing the golems as they moved, Estin saw a faint line of notches on the back of the nearest, like some kind of basic ladder, starting at the boot of one foot. Often, the undead were clinging to it, trying to scale the golem, but their aimless movements made climbing impossible. Had the golem been standing still, Estin was willing to bet that anyone could climb it, once they had gotten up past the boot.
“I can show someone where to go. I can see a way up.”
The words cut through the many voices that were shouting, drawing all attention to Estin.
“Can you do it?” asked Linn of Estin, coming over and leaning close. He appeared to be looking at the golems, following Estin’s gaze. “My men will be heavily-armored. We’re already covering you anyway as our healer. It would not be a huge change of plan to have you make the climb.”
“Can you climb it with a twenty pound weight on your back?” asked the elf, pulling his shirt free of one of Linn’s men. “The weapon weighs at least that much.”
Estin nodded grimly, now studying the ground at the feet of the golem. Hundreds of the undead swarmed each foot, making any approach incredibly dangerous, compounded by the golem’s own stomping. Whoever went in would have to time their run, so as not to be killed by the golem itself.
“The Lantonne controllers should have given the golems orders not to attack the living already,” Linn noted, frowning angrily as the golems crushed a large pile of rock that would have been at least fifteen feet tall. “If we can get past the undead, the golem should let you climb it.”
From their position, Estin saw that a wagon-wide path ran down the edge of the quarry, looping the whole of it twice before reaching the bottom near one of the golems.
“We go down as a group,” he told the human, leaning over the edge to make sure the path was usable. “I think we can control the ramp all the way to the bottom. Once we get down, we need to cut a swath to the nearest golem. That puts our group against no less than one-hundred undead by my guess, though many may be busy with the golem, depending on their orders.”
“That we can do,” Linn assured him, patting his shoulder-armor. “My men were prepared to cut through the whole undead army if they had to. Killing a few distracted undead is simple.”
“Can you hold that for me for about ten or twenty minutes while I place the weapon, then fight all the way out, after the undead have noticed us?”
That rattled the human somewhat, but he nodded grimly. He gave Estin another pat, then hurried off to ready his people.
They spent the next half hour prepping and watering the horses, checking weapons and, for those who had traveled with their heavy armor stowed away, attiring themselves in their armor. Those who had managed to keep their appetites ate silently, all well aware that it might be their last. Once all was set, they began the long trek down the ramp, trying to set a quick yet not tiring pace. They would need all their strength at the bottom.
The farther they descended, the louder the pitched battle below became. Beyond the sound that thousands of the walking dead could make, there were the booms of magical strikes against the golems and the deafening grinding of the golems themselves.
It took them almost a half hour to reach the bottom of the quarry, though their slow pace contributed much to that. Estin could only hope they could manage the return trip far faster, or this truly would be a suicide mission, as Lihuan had predicted. He was tempted to ask the elves to adjust the weapon for a longer time to escape, but doubted they could do it quickly, so he said nothing. Instead, he snugged the straps on his armor and tucked his ears into the plated covers of his leather helmet, hoping it would be enough.
When they did reach the bottom of the quarry, Linn dismounted with many of his men, setting up a group that would guard the horses for the retreat. That cost them ten men before the fighting was even to begin, but without the horses, the odds of making it out in time was non-existent.
During those last preparations, Estin walked calmly out to the edge of the battle, where the undead horde crashed like the waves against the war golems. Their commands likely not including any option for another target beyond
the golems, the undead before him stood patiently, waiting to push forward over their companions to get at the feet of the golem. Estin got within five feet of the undead, without drawing so much as a glance from them.
Just then, a war golem stomped, shaking the entire quarry. The aftershocks very nearly knocked Estin to the ground and did topple nearly all the undead around him. When they recovered, they went right back to waiting to attack the golem.
“Are you ready?” asked Linn loudly, two elves beside him, dragging a large bag. “Once we go, there’s no turning back. If you’re not sure about this, I am sure I can find another in the group who can climb it. There is no lack of bravery here.”
“I’ve got nothing to go back to,” Estin told the man as he hoisted the bag onto his back. It was far heavier than he had expected, but he felt he could manage. “If everything goes badly, I want you to take your men and run, rather than waiting for me.”
Linn agreed, then signaled the various groups to form up. Within a minute, he had the entire company arrayed at the bottom of the ramp, with Estin several rows back from the front, ready to heal the soldiers the whole way in. To Estin’s left, Greth waited with his fellow wolves, growling and working themselves into a rage, ready for the charge.
“Charge!” cried Linn, leading the way as he cut into the undead ahead of them with his sword, even as he bashed others aside with his shield.
The world devolved instantly into chaos around Estin as the battle began. The undead were more than willing to fight back once provoked, surrounding the group in seconds. Were the golems not so large, he doubted that the group would ever know if they were moving in the right direction.
Cries of agony and groans of the dead mingled into one loud cacophony of death as the group pushed slowly forward. The distance they had yet to cover was immense, making it hard to feel like they were truly gaining ground. Sometimes the golem would move away from them, making the distance greater.
