The Northern Approach (16 page)

Practically dragging his right foot as he headed into the trees, Raeln stopped and sniffed at the air, finding nothing that even hinted at any form of food. He was not entirely surprised, but he was disappointed. Given the way the last few days had gone thus far, he had actually expected a waiting undead force that would attack him on sight.

Stopping in a densely wooded area, Raeln looked around at the barely visible mountain peaks that surrounded the woods. They were lovely, the sky lightening to a pure blue without a cloud in sight. If he could not find food, this place could serve another purpose. By the time the sun was up, it would be ideal.

Raeln used one of the trees to ease himself down onto his good leg’s knee. Reaching into one of his belt pouches, he pulled out a tightly wrapped bundle of cloth that was the one thing he had prayed was not lost in the time in the river. Unwrapping it slowly, he stared at the dark-grey clump of wet fur he held.

“I’m sorry, Greth,” he said to the fur of his dead lover, lowering his head as he placed the fur on the ground. Wiping a clump of moist dirt over it, he added, “I promised you revenge and a return to the mountains. I’m only going to be able to fulfill one of those promises. Forgive me…”

Grief he had not allowed himself to embrace for months washed over him, and Raeln began weeping like a child, pressing his face to the muddy ground as he cried. He had been forced to be strong, to be a figure to look to for the survivors of Lantonne. It was the first time he had been truly alone since Greth’s death, and all the pain and horror of watching the only person he had ever loved die came back like a blow to the head.

Raeln curled up on the ground, listening to the peaceful chirps of distant birds in the trees he had disturbed. If he were lucky, the mists would come and take him during the next few hours, before the others came looking for him. If not, he would lay there until starvation or his wounds finished him.

It was how Greth had told him wolves were meant to die. Alone with their pain and in a manner of their choosing. He chose this place to escape his pain. It was as good as any.

*

A sharp cry of a bird woke Raeln, and he covered his face to hide it from the bright sunlight overhead. He had slept for hours it would seem, and his stomach rumbled painfully, warning him that he had better look for food before too much more time passed. That instinctual need was easy to ignore, so Raeln tried to roll over and go back to sleep in the hope that it might be the last time he woke.

Agony burned through his leg as he tried to move, reminding Raeln of the injury to his hip. Looking down, he saw his whole leg was swollen, the skin pressed tightly into his tattered pants. Even his toes were puffed up and difficult to move. From what he could see, the whole hip was swollen and oddly shaped, hinting at a broken bone or dislocation. Either one was as good as fatal so far from a doctor or healer. The death he had been waiting for would come whether he wanted it or not eventually.

Raeln pulled himself up to a sitting position, trying to keep his weight off the hip. Try as he might, the movement was enough to send agonizing flashes of pain through that entire side.

Looking around, Raeln saw the mists he had seen during the night had moved, cutting off his return to the plateau where they others were resting. That made him a little happier, knowing they could not come after him anymore. He would face his end alone with his memories, not hounded by the others claiming necessity of prophetic nonsense or similar made up reasons to go on. He wished them well, but he had no desire to try to continue.

With the mists having moved to partially clear the area, Raeln could see more easily down into the rest of the valley below through the trees. The second lake he could see was bright blue, surrounded by dense woods. A more beautiful place to die, he could not imagine. Were it not for the single strand of mist still hanging over the waters, the scene would have been perfect.

A crack of thunder shook the entire mountainside despite clear skies, and Raeln covered his face in reaction. All around him the mists flared as though lit aflame. When he looked around again, the mists began rapidly retreating as the lake below roiled and bubbled. Whatever had happened, the entire area was disturbed, as birds fled into the sky and the distant rumbling of many hooved animals running echoed. He half-expected to see the undead armies march across the valley, but the whole place slowly calmed, giving no hint as to what had happened.

Curiosity soon got the better of Raeln, and he clenched his teeth through his pain as he got up out of the mud. Learning what could “scare” a giant cloud of death would be worth delaying his mourning and eventual death a few more hours. If the answer was interesting enough, he might even pass it on to Yoska and On’esquin before leaving again.

Raeln limped slowly through the woods, making his way down the flatter paths. It took him an hour or two with only one working leg, but well before sunset, he had reached the wetlands around the lake and stood there, trying to decide what to do next. The mists had partially gone, but a long tendril still hung near the water, making it dangerous to approach too closely, though even it was thinning and drifting away.

Hobbling to the shore, Raeln sniffed the air and waited for any indication of what had happened, but he saw nothing at all out of place. Had he not seen the mists himself, he could have believed the place was entirely untouched. There were no new buildings, no missing parts of the terrain, nothing at all to hint at the destruction the mists had caused the last time he had seen them.

Suddenly, large bubbles appeared far off in the lake, as though something were trying to come up or something big was sinking. Raeln watched that intently, wondering what might be coming next. After a minute or two, he heard a distant splash and gasp, though he had to search for the source. Soon he spotted a soaked figure near the far edge who was pulling something toward the shore. Whoever or whatever it was, Raeln could not make out details at such a distance, and the figure had clearly not seen him, as it was swimming almost directly away from him.

Raeln eyed the distance around the lake and cringed at the thought of trying to walk that far with his hip so badly wounded. He would be better off lying back down and waiting for the end rather than trying to help whoever it was out there. He owed that person nothing, did not even care that much about finding out who or what it was, or why they were there. Still, a deep nagging in the back of his thoughts would not let him walk away. The person seemed to be in trouble.

“You always worry about others too much,” Greth had told him once, chiding him for concerning himself so much with people he hardly knew while ignoring his own happiness. That concern had cost Greth his life while Raeln was away.

Raeln started to turn and walk away, but realized the words Greth had used never criticized or hinted that he was upset. The man had been kind in that, only expressing some doubt about whether Raeln would ever be happy while he worried about others. Such a subtle thing, but one that made worlds of difference to Raeln. Greth had approved of his constant need to help others, even if it kept the two of them apart.

Sighing, Raeln accepted that he did desire to help the person near the lake. Greth would have laughed at him for even thinking such a thing, but would have helped him. It was a quirk of his nature that Greth had accepted and embraced. Now he could not let it go out of a sense of debt to Greth’s memory. He would help one more person.

“I’ll find and help whoever is out there,” Raeln said, looking back toward the woods where he had left the tuft of Greth’s fur. It was as close as he would get to a gravesite for the man. “Once I know they’re alive, I’m done. I will come join you. You can lecture me in the afterlife, but I refuse to feel guilty now.”

Raeln made his way around the lake as quickly as he could manage, watching the person—people, he realized, as they reached the shore, though one was not moving. He had gotten more than halfway to them when they reached the shore, and he soon could make out enough about them to realize they were wildlings.

Not just any wildlings—one wilding he knew. He would probably recognize him anywhere on Eldvar.

Despite the pain, Raeln limped as fast as he could toward the wildlings, his eyes never leaving the man, who had dragged the other wildling onto the shore. Though his clothes had changed, Raeln could easily recognize him as the healer who had saved Raeln’s life a year earlier in Lantonne. The man’s ridiculously long black-and-white striped tail was so distinctive Raeln would not expect another man anywhere to have similar markings. He had never seen another wildling of that breed and he doubted today was the day he would.

The second wildling was new to Raeln. He could not make out much detail at first, seeing only red fur from so far off. As he got closer, he saw the white patterning on her chest and the tip of her tail, realizing she was a red fox dressed in the hides of some kind of animal. His thoughts leapt to the children he had seen the healer tending to, and he worried one of them was injured. With the second child missing, that was a distinct possibility, and one that nagged at his desire to help. He pushed himself until tears ran down his cheeks, trying to get to them before it was too late, assuming he could help in any way. He owed that man his life and he had no intention of letting him down.

Soon Raeln reached the section of shoreline where the wildling man knelt over the woman—he realized she was not the child he had seen earlier, but a grown woman. The woman was still not moving and the man was clearly trying to clear her lungs of water.

“How can I help?” Raeln called out, but the man never looked up. He was frantic, trying desperately to save the woman. This was his wife, friend, or another loved one, of that Raeln had no doubt.

The wildling man did not react to Raeln at all, continuing to apply pressure to the woman’s upper stomach and pushing on her chest to clear water from her lungs. He was desperate and appeared to be on the verge of bursting into tears.

Then Raeln saw the blood that covered the woman’s side. She had been torn open, leaving a massive wound to her stomach that Raeln doubted could have been survived by anyone without magic. Still, the man weeping over her was a healer, a man strong in magic who should have been able to save her.

Stepping up to the wildling man, Raeln looked over what he was doing. The man used no magic, made no attempt to use his powers. Instead, he was acting as though he were a common doctor and not one of the most skilled healers Raeln had ever met. He muddled through attempts to clear the water from the woman’s lungs and blow air into her mouth. Judging by the blood loss Raeln could see, breathing was the least of her concerns.

“What happened?” he asked the man, slowly taking a knee beside him. The woman was not even bleeding anymore, making Raeln’s stomach clench and churn. She was likely beyond help without magic, and even then he could not be sure anything would save her anymore. “Can you heal her?”

The man with the black-and-white tail continued trying to wake the woman, tears rolling down his face as he attempted to restart her breathing. Finally, he collapsed onto her, hugged her tightly as he sobbed, pulled her head to his neck, and clung. “I can’t use magic,” he admitted, gently lowering the woman to the ground and trying again to use pressure against her ribs to help her breathe. “Something’s keeping me from using magic at all. I have to keep trying…”

Raeln watched helplessly as the man struggled with the corpse, trying desperately to wake her. The fox woman was already far gone and nothing seemed to do more than jar her body. Even the impacts of the man’s hands on her chest did not push any blood from her side, where Raeln could see muscle and bone through the ravaged flesh. She was dead and had been for some time. Even with a total lack of skill in helping the wounded, he could see that.

“You need to let go,” Raeln pleaded, trying to grab the man’s arms. If he kept up, all he would do was continue to injure the body or possibly hurt himself.

In reply the man lashed out at him, snarling like a wild animal and clawing at Raeln’s face, leaving painful scrapes across his neck and muzzle. The other man dropped to a low crouch like he was ready to attack Raeln, practically sitting atop the woman in an attempt to keep Raeln away. Raeln had seen similar behavior from actual animals, usually protecting their food or young. Any rational thought was gone, replaced by utter panic in the man’s eyes.

Raeln rolled onto his foot and hopped away, holding up his hands defensively. The man he was looking at was entirely different from how he remembered him. The last time Raeln had seen him, the man had been sad and quiet, worried more about his children than himself. Aside from scars from months of wearing manacles as a slave, the man had looked unmarred, despite something about him being more comfortable in the wild than Raeln had ever been.