In Wilder Lands

by Jim Galford

  “He shouldn’t be,” Finth said, sounding helpless. “The antidote should have worked…”

  “You knew the proper amounts of the poison to use on a human?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you also adjust the antidote?”

  Finth groaned and looked over at Linn, who just closed his eyes and sighed.

  “I can’t make any more, Estin,” the dwarf admitted. “Maybe if we stop and get very lucky with the plants in the area…”

  “No time.”

  Estin finally found Asrahn’s spellbook and paged through it as he rushed back to Linn, nearly trampling Atall in the process. It did not take him but a moment to find the spell he was looking for, but it took him a minute or so to refresh his memory of the exact procedure to cast it. It had been a year, after all, since the last time he had dealt with snake bites and similar toxins.

  “Hold still,” he warned Linn, who nodded slowly. “I can’t wait around, casting one curative after another and then waiting to see if it helped. You’ll likely be dead before I get through them all. This is going to get rid of anything and everything that isn’t part of your body, but it’s not pleasant.”

  Not about to wait for an answer, Estin cast the spell, hearing the whispers of the spirits that aided his healing as they were channeled through his touch into Linn. At the completion of the spell, Linn seemed unaffected for a second or two, then tensed as his body purged itself.

  The man began to sweat horribly, trembling as his temperature shot up and his heart raced. Then as swiftly as the effect began, it was gone and he relaxed, gasping for breath.

  “Unpleasant doesn’t begin to describe that,” Linn admitted between breaths. “Now, I’m starving and thirsty on top of it all.”

  “I did say anything and everything. How do you feel, though?”

  “Better than I have since the psychotic dwarf fed me poison. If you ever have to do anything like that again to me, just kill me. But still, thank you.”

  Finth let out an audible sigh of relief and hurried back to the front of the wagon with an expression that Estin could only describe as having his tail between his legs.

  Intending to return to the back of the wagon with the kits, Estin started to move when Linn grabbed his arm, gripping it with a strength that Estin was surprised by, given the man’s recent health.

  “I need to tell you something,” the man said, his voice low. “Please sit down by me. I don’t want the others to hear me.”

  Estin sat alongside the human, perking his ears attentively.

  “I shouldn’t probably tell you this, but I will anyway. Where I come from—a little north of Altis, up in the northern foothills—we spend most of our time fighting off the barbarian tribes, who often included your people. My village did not think much more of your people than animals…maybe less. I was taught from an early age that wildlings are savage creatures who would murder your children and eat them, usually just for fun. We thought that Altis’ allowance for wildling slaves was giving them too much freedom around our children.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I wanted you to know who I was when you met me. I may have been polite to your face, but when my commander told me that you were joining us and that I should follow your lead in anything beyond battle tactics, I argued with him. I’m not proud of that, but it’s the truth. I told him that I would sooner hang as a traitor before following a glorified raccoon into war.

  “The point is, you and your family have done more to help me than my own family ever did. I owe you my life many times over, Estin. I very nearly did hang as a traitor, but it was the friends of the very creature I despised that came to my aid. You and the fox have my oath by my blood that whatever you need of me will be done. I am deeply sorry for how I perceived your people and I hope that I can make it up to you. Your family may be the most noble people I have met.”

  Estin clasped wrists with them man’s offered arm, then told him, “Please don’t take this wrong, but I have no family. The kits are Feanne’s. I am just her guard, so long as she’ll have me.”

  “Family is more than blood, Estin. The family I lost when Altis fell consisted of my dead brother’s wife and their children. I would have fought to the death to save that woman out of loyalty, even though she was not mine and I had no desire for her to be. They were my family, just as truly as if they were my own. If you care for Feanne and the little ones, they’re family in their own way.”

  “Thank you,” Estin told him, leaning close. “I doubt you even realize how helpful that was for me to finally hear my confused life put to words.”

  “When gypsy say helpful things,” Yoska blurted out, apparently having been listening in, even from several feet away, “you say that I have degenerate life. When city-man says vaguely-helpful thing, you thank him. Is most disheartening.”

  “That’s because no one understands what the hell you’re trying to say,” Linn countered, his voice weak still. “You’re either trying to woo the fox into your bed…or Estin. I can’t sort out which.”

  The kits belted out laughter.

  “Bah!” Yoska snorted, reaching for his flask. “Will be cold in a few weeks. You, sir, are not invited to share my bed for warmth, no matter how much you beg. Do not argue…it is done and I will not change my mind.”

  Linn laughed, though the act turned into a cough.

  The remainder of the journey, lasting until the following morning, left Estin, the kits, Feanne, and Linn in the back, with Finth driving and Yoska navigating. Yoska had tried several times to climb back into the living area, but Feanne had been adamant that she wanted a short time without gypsy advice and he was to stay outside.

  By dawn, the wagon was firmly wedged in rocks and trees, having gone about as far as the rough terrain would allow. There was talk about seeing how much of their remaining supplies could be carried, while Yoska patrolled ahead and Feanne walked off towards the west, stopping to crouch on a tall rock.

  Linn had remained in the wagon, resting in an attempt to recover more of his lost strength. He had been more lucid since Estin’s healing, but he was constantly tired and sore, the poison having drained him far more than he was likely to admit in the near future.

  “We carrying all her luggage?” Finth asked Estin as he hefted a large keg of either water or ale. “Even the kids got some of the baggage. What’s she doin’ anyway?”

  Estin glanced back at Feanne, who was sitting in a clear area, taking slow deep breaths. Within seconds, she raised her mouth to the sky and took one more deep breath.

  “She’s calling for more hands.”

  Feanne’s cry echoed off the mountains, though she cut it shorter than Estin knew she could maintain it. This cry was unlike the ones he had heard her make before, when they had been attacked. It was not the desperate call for aid, but an announcement of her presence. He only hoped that someone they could trust had heard her.

  “If all is well, Ulra should be here within an hour,” Feanne told them as she sauntered back over, then stopped in front of the rest of the group, glaring down at the outfit she still wore from the city.

  “I think I am done with human things for this lifetime,” she announced, digging her thumb-claws into the waist of the skirt and soundly shredding it. She still wore her leathers beneath and did not hesitate to destroy every last piece of the shirt and skirt, cutting them into long strips with a smile on her face.

  This set the kits to a new game…destroying their human disguises. Estin could only watch in dismay as the kits ran around like crazy-things, half-dressed after ripping up their own clothing.

  “Well that’s one way to start a day,” Finth noted, watching the chaos. “If Yoska weren’t scouting, he’d have some smart-assed thing to say about all this. Didn’t he say something about one of his wives ripping his clothing off? Hers? I can’t bloody remember.”

  “Thank you for ruining every happy moment I can come up with, Finth,” Feanne told the dwar
f, poking the tip of his nose with her claw. “Remember your manners when we reach the pack. I will not tolerate you or your pet gypsy lackey making lewd comments at my expense.”

  “Awful sorry, Lady Tail-Biter…I’ll be more careful.”

  “I do not even know what that is supposed to mean. Fur-licker, paw-licker, wet-nose, reddie, Madam Pounce, Lady Furface…do you spend your time actually working on what to call me, or are these supposed to mean something?”

  The dwarf wrinkled his brow.

  “Not especially. They’re stuff I figure wildlings do…hells, I’d be Finth Ass-Scratcher, I guess…maybe Finth Whore-Chaser. How about Finth Swill-Drinker?”

  Estin listened to them bicker while he leaned on the water barrel and waited, the children running around trying to catch an angry squirrel. As he stood there, his ears perked as he heard the telltale sound of several bows being drawn.

  “Archers!” he yelled, grabbing Atall as he ran by, shoving him bodily under the wagon. He waved for Oria, who slid in after her bother.

  Feanne and Finth stopped arguing and began scanning the trees for attackers, even as Yoska came running back towards them as fast as he could in the rough terrain.

  “Everyone stand still and identify yourselves!” called out a gruff voice off to Estin’s left, past the wagon.

  Yoska skidded to a stop, raising a plume of dust. Finth stopped moving, but his eyes darted around, trying to find those out in the trees. Even Linn was visible inside the wagon from Estin’s position, trying to appear unmoving, but actually pulling one of Estin’s swords onto his lap.

  “I am Feanne,” she announced loudly, turning in place. “I am pack-leader of my people and would return to them without hindrance. Identify yourselves!”

  A heavily-armored orc stepped from the trees just up the rise from them, not more than ten steps from Yoska, an arrow notched in his bow and aimed at the gypsy.

  Off to Estin’s right, a human came into sight, though his fur and leather clothing was battered and looked as though he had crawled to their current position. He bore a throwing axe and was watching Estin very carefully.

  Somewhere behind him, Estin heard yet another bit of movement, picking up the smell of fresh pine needles, though given the season, that seemed odd. That person did not speak.

  “Lower your weapons,” growled a female voice as Ulra stomped into view, coming around a large bank of rocks. She gave Yoska a pat on the back in greeting that made the man stumble. “She is who she says. She is the leader of our pack.”

  In the year since Estin had last seen the bear wildling, she had aged considerably. Several jagged scars marred her fur and her left hand was badly burned. Patches of white fur around her muzzle told him of rough times that she had endured.

  The orc and the human lowered their weapons, but stayed alert, watching Estin and Feanne for any reason to strike.

  “My pack-leader,” Ulra said formally, bowing before Feanne. “Welcome home.”

  “Thank you,” said Feanne, eyeing the others that had come with Ulra. “Who are our guests?”

  Estin turned around, hoping that they finally were out of danger.

  The last member of the scouting party was a somewhat human-looking woman, but with forest-green skin and leaves and vines that seemed a part of her clothing. He recognized her as a fae-kin, but soon began to wonder if the very much living plants were actually a part of her, rather than garbing. He had heard talk among some of the laborers that there were fae-kin who were far closer to their nature-spirit ancestors than others…this woman looked to be one of those.

  “They are not exactly guests. They and many others came after you left, with the same hope of the valley being shelter. They have joined us and have agreed to work with us to survive. With us now are the remnants of several other tribes scattered by the undead armies.”

  Feanne studied the orc, then the human, eyeing each carefully. The two stoically glared back, their weapons kept ready, despite the introductions.

  “I greet you,” she told them, bowing to each, then to the fae-kin behind Estin. “We brought as much food and water as we could manage, which I hope will dissuade any doubts about our intentions here.”

  The orc grunted, but the fur-clad human gave a curt nod of acknowledgement and walked over to the wagon. He eyed Estin oddly, but stepped past him and lifted one of the kegs onto his shoulder, walking silently westward with it.

  “He is right, we should move before we’re found,” Ulra told the group, coming over and grabbing most of the remaining supplies on her own.

  It was Ulra that wound up leading the way for the small group, despite carrying nearly a wagonload of supplies on her back. Behind her, the newcomers walked slowly, the kits mostly hiding near Estin or Feanne’s legs as they watched the orc and human, who had fanned out to the woods nearby to intercept any threats. In the rear, Finth and Yoska were the slowest, aiding Linn to walk, his feet still unsteady on the uneven ground. The fae-kin woman had simply vanished once the group had begun walking.

  Throughout the next three hours, the group was made to move without speaking. Whenever someone did begin to talk, either the orc or the human would rush over, motioning them to be silent. This seemed to disturb the kits more than anything.

  The group moved into a narrowing space between the steep rocky walls that led hundreds of feet up to two separate mountain peaks. Where these came together, the woods created the illusion of a high wall of stone. As they got closer, Estin could see that the mountain-sides did not quite meet, forming a gap that led deeper into the mountains, though the opening was only wide enough for perhaps fifteen men wide…far less with the dense trees.

  It was into this gap that they traveled, the orc taking point and hurrying ahead, even as the human dropped to the far rear, watching for pursuit and skillfully covering their trail.

  The gap itself felt to Estin as though it were closing in on him. The trees furthered that feeling, blocking out the sky, even as the stone walls narrowed. He began to wonder if they were marching into some dead-end, but before long, the walls widened again, opening up until he could no longer see them through the trees.

  “Welcome to your pack,” Ulra announced as they cleared the trees and entered a large camp.

  Unlike the old pack’s campsite, Estin was surprised to see fifty or sixty tents of incredibly varied types. Whereas the old had been haphazardly-built shelters of canvas, made to fit whatever occupant it housed, this campsite had nearly any kind of tent or temporary shelter he could imagine.

  Large human tents with ornate decoration, some with house or city crests emblazoned on them, were the nearest to the entrance to the valley. A half dozen armored soldiers approached, bearing the insignias of both Lantonne and Altis. When they saw Ulra, they returned to what they had been doing previously, but Estin could tell that they were still on-guard.

  Beyond the human tents, there were a few ramshackle structures that could have belonged to almost anyone, though Estin smelled dwarves for the most part. Loud curses and arguments came from that area.

  Next came large animal-skin tents that had been treated in some way to withstand the weather. Sitting amongst these were more humans like the one escorting them, all stern and clad in pelts and hides. Every member of this little society eyed his group challengingly and several eyed Estin as though evaluating whether his hide was warmer than their current clothing.

  Still farther off to the south, Estin could see several lightweight white tents of the elves from Lantonne. These were muddied and barely recognizable, but he remembered their distinctive look from Lihuan’s camp, just before he had left it for the last time.

  Behind the last section of tents, up on a rise, Estin spotted the blue wagons of Yoska’s clan, though his mind raced at how they could have managed to get the large vehicles into the valley. It was a question he had meant to ask Yoska in the past and had forgotten.

  The east end of the camp, where they were headed, was packed with a random assortment
of wildlings that Estin mostly had never met. They were not all from Lihuan’s pack, though several he was quite sure he recognized from Insrin’s village. It was in this section of the camp that the most residents stopped to stare at their approach, several of the older members approaching Feanne to whisper polite greetings or bow to her.

  At this point, Yoska and Finth led Linn away, with Yoska giving Feanne a quick explanation that they were going to find a place for Linn to rest a while, as well as some warm food.

  “We prepared a proper tent for you,” Ulra told Feanne, leading the group to a large structure near the back of the grouping of smaller tents. It was readily apparent to him that it was Lihuan’s old tent, having been patched and moved. “Will you need me to assign guards for you, or do you already have them? I would be happy to serve you as I did your father, until you find protectors that you trust.”

  Feanne glanced over at Estin, giving him a smile.

  “I have a guard,” she told the bear as they stepped into the tent, though Ulra had to bend over to slip inside. “Another might not be a bad idea, at least until I establish myself with the newcomers.”

  Ulra grunted as she set the huge pile of supplies near the door of the tent.

  “Very well. I’ll have Doln bring in bedding for yourself, the kits, and for Estin. I will take the watch tonight to allow you all to rest and recover.”

  Both Feanne and Estin balked, which Ulra seemed surprised at.

  “Have I said something wrong, pack-leader?”

  “Estin will not be bedding here…,” Feanne said quickly.

  “A guard is useless if not present,” Ulra countered firmly. “I and your father’s other three guards took turns sleeping either in his tent or just outside it for the last twelve years.

  “I will not have you unguarded, pack-leader. Either Estin stays here, or I will have him replaced, with or without your permission. If your pack is not mature enough to understand his place, then he does not belong at your side.”

  “I’m still in the room, Ulra. If she wants me to sleep outside…”