by Jim Galford
The man went down the list again, nodding at each item.
“Most of this is not an issue,” he said, tapping his pointed teeth with a finger. “It’ll take me a few days to get it all together. Most people are coming into the town and wanting stockpiles, what with the undead army on the march. Everything’s slower to fulfill. Your pricing on here’s a little low, as the food specifically has gone up in the last week. I’ll do what I can though.”
The man folded the list and put it into his shirt pocket.
“Can you have it inside two days?” Feanne asked him.
“Should be able to. Come back, I’ll get you a final price and we can have your wagon loaded by end of day. Just need two silver down and I’ll get everything moving. Probably going to come to about a gold on final price, assuming you can afford that?”
Feanne accepted and offered her thanks, taking the coins from Estin to pay the shop-keep. With their business finished, the man hurried off to help the next person, leaving them to depart on their own time.
“That was almost too easy,” Feanne whispered as they slipped back out into the darkening streets. “I expected more hassle, once he saw what breeds we were.”
As they entered the street, Estin checked the coin purse he had been handed, finding a half dozen copper coins, three more silvers, a pair of gold coins, and two of the little gems he had stolen back in Altis. The money in that pouch once would have been enough for him to live comfortably on for years, but now he wondered just how long it would last, providing for not just their small group, but anyone else they brought along.
“Don’t worry about the money,” Feanne said, leaning in as she saw him looking through the bag. “Finth has been secreting away coin for years, it would seem. This is what he sends us out with any given day. He says he has ten times as much stashed somewhere. With how much more that he said you gave him, he can hardly complain if you spend some.
“If you need something, now is the time to get it. We may not have another chance. Coin has little value in the wilds.”
After looking sadly at his broken claws again, Estin turned to a nearby building where smoke roiled up from a smithy. He headed for it, with Feanne following a few steps behind him. Inside the open-air shop, an impressively-muscled ogre labored, banging a hammer on hot steel, shaping it to his will slowly.
“Shop is closed,” the man grunted as they entered. “City law says I don’t sell after dark.”
“Even if we ask very little but pay well?”
The ogre tossed aside his hammer, turning to eye them as he wiped his brow.
“Wildlings…that’s new,” grumbled the ogre, walking right up to Estin and squinting at him. “Don’t get much request for weapons from your kind. What’d you need, rodent?”
Estin held back his hatred of being called vermin, motioning instead at the man’s stock of blades.
“I need weapons before we travel. Swords first. Balanced as well as you have on-hand.”
The ogre chuckled and picked up a rather simple longsword, swinging it expertly as though it weighed nothing.
“Balance is relative to the person,” the ogre said, flipping the weapon over and catching the blade with his hand. “To me, some of the greatswords are balanced. To you, something else.”
He placed the sword back in a rack and picked up a smaller sword.
“The weighting in this one is likely right for you. I can adjust it slightly.”
The sword was offered to Estin, who took it slowly, hoisting the gleaming weapon. The ogre was not wrong, the balance was actually amazing. He had never held a finer weapon.
“Do you have two like this?”
The ogre nodded and picked up a second.
“They don’t come cheap,” the ogre warned, wiping his sooty hands on his leather apron. “I actually pay an enchanter to hone them so they never dull. Most of my finished works have that feature. Want cheap, go elsewhere.”
Estin felt the edge of the weapon, finding that it grazed smoothly through some of his fur, cutting it cleanly.
“How much would they cost me?”
The ogre chuckled, watching him hold the sword.
“Eight silver each, just to get you out of my shop.”
Estin reached into his money purse and extracted one of the gems, setting it delicately down on the edge of the forge.
“What’s that worth to you?”
The ogre eyed the gem, blinked, and picked it up.
“Probably a little while in the stocks if I’m not careful,” he said, turning the gem around in the light of the forge. “This is stolen, that much I know. It’s been etched for sale to someone with money. I’m guessing that’s not you.”
Estin stood firm as the ogre eyed him.
“I can give you the swords for it,” the ogre finally agreed, dropping the gem into a pocket of his apron. “If anyone asks, you stole them from me. Awful shame getting robbed like that.”
“I need several more things,” Estin said, before the ogre could turn away.
“What? What else so I can go home and be done with crazy travelers?”
Estin left Feanne’s side, walking with the ogre briefly around the small shop. They picked out two more weapons—long daggers—the ogre wrapping them in oilcloth for him and happily accepting his silver.
“Thank you and goodbye,” Estin finally told the man, but the ogre just grunted and pretended to ignore him.
“They are fine weapons,” Feanne told him once they were a good distance from the forge. “I might never use one, but they are well-made. I would hate to stand against someone wielding those in battle.”
Estin said nothing, hoping to get back to their lodging before too much more time had passed. It took them almost a half hour, but soon they were coming back into the dark hovel that Finth had claimed as his own.
“Well?” asked Yoska as they came in, the twins sitting in front of him, as though a story had been interrupted. They looked to be nervous, which told Estin the story was likely not something that their mother would approve of. “Were you able to get what we need?”
“We were,” Feanne said first, unfastening her cloak just in time to move it away from her as the kits latched onto her legs. Within seconds, the two were exploring the large skirts she was wearing, openly questioning human fashion. “Everything should be ready in two days.”
As she explained to Yoska what they had gotten ordered with regard to supplies, Estin lay the two swords on the table, unwrapping the oilcloth that hid and protected them. Almost instantly, Atall and Oria appeared at his side, eyeing the steel with skepticism.
“Mom says we don’t need weapons,” Oria said firmly, poking at one of the swords with what Estin could only describe as distrust.
“Feanne,” Estin called over his shoulder. “Do me a favor, please.”
“Yes?”
“Gouge that table as well as you can with your claws.”
Feanne eyed the broken table that he had indicated, then raked it with one hand’s claws, leaving half-inch lines in it where her fingers traced. Estin knew that she could do far more damage if she used her magic, but the demonstration was what he had hoped for.
“Your turn, Oria,” he told the girl, pointing at the table. “Show me what you can do.”
Oria gave him a confused look, then sort of slapped the table, dragging her fingers on it, creating a thin set of lines until she yelped and had to suck her finger.
“I can’t,” she said sadly, to which Feanne gave Estin a questioning look.
“Not yet, you can’t. When you’re a little older, your mother will teach you. For now…”
He unwrapped the second bundle, revealing two long hooked daggers that looked like claws.
“These are for you two,” Estin told the kits, checking that both daggers were well secured in their sheaths. “Your mother or I can teach you how to use those until your claws are a little stronger.”
“Estin, we need to speak about this…”
&n
bsp; He half-turned, seeing the annoyed look Feanne was giving him. He knew how much she must hate the idea of her children using human weapons and that somehow made it even better for him.
“Would you rather they be unarmed while we travel?”
“No…”
“Then they will be taught to use these. If I’m to be your guard, I will do so my own way, pack-leader. The kits should not be defenseless in a fight.”
Feanne seemed to bite back her thoughts and just nodded, her jaw tight.
“Glad we’re agreed,” he said, grinning at her. “So are you two ready?”
Both clamored for a weapon, ready to learn.
*
The kits and Estin spent that night and the next two learning how to safely wield the weapons, much to the dismay of their mother, who mostly glowered at all three of them during training. When Finth had lauded the children for learning so quickly, Feanne had actually stormed out of the room briefly to compose herself, before returning in a more neutral mood.
All this, Estin just ate up, knowing he could drive her to want to hit him so easily, without raising his voice or a finger to her. Deep down, he felt that was the least he could do as her newfound “guard,” but he had no intention of telling her that he was intentionally poking at her easiest annoyances…though he guessed that she knew. He knew it bordered on the backhanded aggression that he had seen from the deer so long ago, but it was all he had left that he could use to rile her, without actually driving her off. Small victories, he told himself.
By the time the wagons were loaded and preparations to depart were well underway, Estin felt confident that the kits could at least make an effort to protect themselves in a pinch. They would not be winning a war, but if someone tried to grab them, they had enough knowledge and skill to cut the other person, rather than themselves. Another person like Stendin would likely find himself quite dead.
Feanne, the kits, and Estin had dressed in their human clothing disguises, taking their time preparing the pair of fresh horses and gear at the new wagon—a covered one, recently acquired by Finth.
They sat in the wagon throughout much of the afternoon, Estin nervously tapping his feet and twitching his tail impatiently, though this seemed to amuse the kits who had taken to trying to pounce it every so often.
Finth and Yoska had left hours earlier, saying that they might have finally found a way to free Linn before his execution, but by Estin’s calculations, the hanging was to happen at any moment. If they had not managed it by now, either they had failed and were now captives too, or the escape through the streets had been slowed for some reason. Neither was a situation Estin was prepared to remedy.
Noise began to erupt from the streets, sounding as though a small riot had broken out somewhere. Whether the shouters were angry or afraid, he could not be sure at that distance.
“They have five minutes, then we leave,” Feanne said, climbing into the front seat of the wagon beside Estin and grabbing the horses’ reigns out of his hands.
“We can’t just leave them.”
Her stern look even silenced the kits behind Estin.
“I did not ask, Estin. That was an order.”
Estin lowered his face, acknowledging her command begrudgingly.
The minutes ticked away, with Feanne tightening her grip on the reigns, though it was almost twenty minutes before she flicked the horses into motion. As they neared the end of the alley, Finth came running towards them, arms waving frantically as he entered the alley.
“We’re good, we’re good!” he laughed, hoisting himself onto the side of the wagon and up beside Feanne, after which he held his chest and panted. “Yoska’s got Linn in a corpse cart and is heading for the south gate. Get going and we’ll meet him there.”
“Corpse?” asked Atall, speaking everyone’s thoughts aloud. “Why’s he dead?”
“Long story, fuzzball. Short version is that the guards have their thumbs so far up their asses that they didn’t notice us steal a corpse that they thought was poisoned to death.”
“Why do they think he was poisoned?” asked Feanne, urging the horses forward again.
“Because we poisoned him. That’s one of the reasons we’re hurrying. If I don’t get him an antidote in about half an hour, he’s just as dead as if they hung him.”
Estin chimed in, asking, “And what’s the other reason?”
Finth groaned and pointed north.
“Undead are here. The north gates are already overrun. They’ve closed off all but the south and that won’t be open long. Rumors say the army looks to be a hundred-thousand strong and they’re trying to lay siege to the city. They even found a way to take out the war golems. This war is over and we’re not on the winning side, so long as we’re in this city.”
Estin did not hesitate, grabbing Feanne as Finth took the reins and pulling her with him into the covered back of the wagon so that they could proceed with less caution through the city. Feanne and the kits grabbed onto the wagon’s frame and the secured barrels of food and water, just as the horses dug in to run.
The wagon lumbered, then accelerated, taking them by the best paths Finth could think of towards the gates.
As the gates themselves came into view, Finth slowed the horses, pulling alongside a hunched figure pulling a cart with a wrapped body in the back. The man looked up at them sharply, then grinned.
“Is good you made it,” Yoska said as they came up alongside him. “Get him inside and cure him, or we must leave him here.”
Estin and Feanne helped the gypsy hoist the limp body of Lieutenant Linn into the back of the wagon. As soon as he was aboard, Finth got the horses going again as he passed a vial back to Yoska.
“Drink, my friend,” Yoska whispered to the pale body, pouring the vial’s thick liquid into his mouth. “Now we hope that I did not walk too slow, yes?”
Estin hurriedly draped the body with a heavy blanket as they rolled up on the southern gates, hoping that the guards would not notice the shape with so many other people crammed in the back of the wagon.
Surprisingly, Estin found that the guards could not have cared less. They likely would have let Linn walk proudly out, as their concern was for trying to get a mass of humans into the city in some semblance of order. Getting one wagon out of the city while it was about to be attacked proved beyond easy. If anything, the guards implied that their departure was a blessing…less mouths to feed during a siege.
Within a few minutes of reaching the gate, they were out beyond the walls, heading southwest toward the mountains as fast as the horses could take them, with the din of the city fading rapidly into the steady rumble of the wheels and horses hooves.
The wagon was far beyond the thick city walls, when a horn blast echoed through the area and the great gates started to close behind them. Theirs was one of the last wagons to enter or leave as the city closed its last gate. In the distance, people waiting to get in could be seen arguing with and attacking the city guards. Soon, the metal-barred wooden gate had closed completely, cutting off any further view inside.
Finth took that as a dire sign and whipped the horses, trying to speed their escape. It was not five minutes later that Estin could see the first of the undead coming around the walls, broken and bloodied faces staring as the wagon rolled away. Thousands more followed those first few, filling in all space around the walls and enclosing the city in a new wall of death. Not one even attempted to follow their wagon, instead rushing in on the hundreds of living people who still waited at the gates, hoping to get inside.
That first hour was nerve-wracking for Estin, watching the undead pour into the area behind them as the wagon rumbled mostly west. No matter how many times he thought that all of the undead must already be encircling the city, more kept coming, creating a buffer hundreds of yards deep around the walls, while larger crowds buffeted the gates.
All of them watched over the next few hours, as the entire city was wrapped in the zombies of the undead force, encasing the
city completely. When Lantonne at last began to fade into the distance enough that they could no longer see the attacking force, they began to hear the first explosions. Early on, they were the simple pops and booms of small explosives being dropped on the undead, but soon the resounding crackle of magic accompanied the sounds.
Great waves of magical fire and lightning pounded the horizon as the city struggled to defend itself. From what Estin could see, every wizard in that part of the world was calling down any trick they could think of, bathing the entire eastern part of the plains in raw magical energy.
The eastern plains near the city were the first to darken into night, but it continued to look to Estin like a thunderstorm had settled onto the very walls of Lantonne. He just sat on the back of the wagon with the two kits sitting on either leg, watching as colorful explosions rocked the skyline, right up to the moment the sky began to lighten again with dawn. By then, they were too far away to see the battle, but distant booms still did reach them on occasion.
Just as Feanne was trying to drag the kits to sleep for the daylight hours, a thunderous crack echoed from the direction of Lantonne. Though they could see nothing specific in the distance, dark clouds seemed to spiral over the general area where they believed the city to be. Everyone took turns squinting at the horizon, but Lantonne was just too far gone.
The city far behind them, Estin finally went to check on Linn, finding the man still pale and cold to the touch, but clearly breathing. His pulse was relatively normal, but he trembled and twitched in his sleep. From what Yoska told him during his tending to the man, Linn might wake after a day or two, given the poisons that were used on him. Had they waited much longer, he would not have woken at all.
They rode on in silence, pausing only briefly the next two afternoons for food and to let the horses rest for a time. Rarely were words exchanged, all in the group just watching the east, as though at any moment the legion of undead would appear, ready to sweep down on them. Even the children were quiet, both keeping their knives within reach throughout the journey.
