The Northern Approach (2 page)

Unlike the other lands, Lantonne had fought back with powers the other cities could never have hoped to wield. Dragons—once forgotten to history as old gods—had come back and attempted to save the city. With them, Raeln’s elven “sister,” Ilarra, had died fighting against a hole in the world, through which magic had begun to flow dangerously. Her sacrifice had saved every living being on Eldvar, but it had broken Raeln’s will to go on when she had fallen.

No, that was not right, he reminded himself. Ilarra’s death had been one of two blows to his spirit in the same night. The second was the death of the person he loved…something he had been unable to put to words for some time. He had not even accepted he was in love until the night they had both died. Now, every day was a reminder that he had not told either of them how he felt and how much he loved them. It was too late, and that was central to most of his anger.

Raeln was alone, aside for the somewhat odd companionship of On’esquin. His loved ones were dead, his parents dead even longer, and even his home town overrun by the undead. No one he had ever known still lived, making each day a struggle to convince himself there was merit in getting up from his half-frozen bedroll. Anger warmed him most days.

“I can’t do it, On’esquin,” he admitted at last, hanging his head again. “I asked you when we would go and when I would get my revenge. That feels like a lifetime ago. Now, I…I don’t think I can find the strength. I don’t want revenge. I just want to lay down and die.”

On’esquin smirked crookedly and yanked Raeln’s arm hard enough to throw Raeln headlong into the mud.

Sputtering and splashing as he tried to get out of the warm water, Raeln shook his whole body to shed as much water as he could. He had long ago forgotten that doing so made him look like an actual wolf, rather than a wildling, but he had also stopped caring about the same time.

“Pitying yourself is a sure way to get me to beat on you, if that’s what you’re after,” warned On’esquin, straightening himself. “I will not stand by and let you mope, Raeln. You have no place complaining after what I’ve been through.”

Raeln sat up and glared at the orc, saying, “I know nothing about you. You’ve hinted at all kinds of crazy things, starting with that prophecy that you seem to believe in.”

“I’ll tell you more when I think you’re fit to hear it. I’d say fifty miles from this camp is the minimum before I will talk. Perhaps longer if you continue to pout.”

Spitting some of the mud from his mouth, Raeln got up and walked away, having had enough of the orc’s attempts at mystery for a lifetime. He had tried asking questions during their first weeks in the wilds, but he had long since stopped caring without getting answers. Watching people freeze and starve to death all winter had seemed far more important than prying answers out of the man and by the time the weather had warmed, he no longer cared about anyone’s background.

Raeln marched roughly toward the camp, though he was guessing at its location. He could have stopped at any time and sniffed his way back or searched for landmarks, but he wanted to get away from On’esquin quickly. Plus, with the amount of mud in his nose, he had doubts about whether he could smell himself if he tried. Thankfully, he soon saw a thin stream of smoke rising above the trees ahead of him, letting him know he had picked the correct direction…and infuriating him to know that yet another fool had ignored his directions about how to keep their campfires from being spotted. He would have to wring someone’s neck and pray the armies of the dead did not see that smoke. The fear of having him kill someone seemed the only way to make these people listen.

Coming up over a rise, Raeln stopped and looked down at the vast camp below. The whole place had been built in a gulley where travelers in the mountains would be unable to see them from nearby peaks, unless they were far above them. From where he was, he could see nearly sixty tents spread out across the area, all of them packed with people who had fled Lantonne or other nearby lands. They had picked up a few more stragglers after the rough winter, but most had been with them from the moment they had fled into the wilderness.

Raeln could not make himself begin walking again once he stopped. He stood there, staring down at the people going about the tasks that would allow them and their neighbors to eke out the barest survival in the wilds. They were all haggard, many more so than even Raeln. These were city-folk, and the better part of a year spent starving and freezing had pushed them to their limits, but not taught them how to actually survive in the wilds.

Several elves spotted Raeln at the tree line and hurried their pace, trying not to draw any extra attention from him. Another who had been coming to meet that group actually turned and went back the way she had come.

He kept watching and saw several young dwarven children at play. The group stopped and looked toward Raeln and then hid, their expressions telling of fear. He had become the threat, not the undead. Somewhere along the way he had gone from helping these people to scaring them.

Sniffing, Raeln realized On’esquin was near him, though he had not heard the man. Unlike every person down in the camp, On’esquin had no scent of his own, but his clothing had the smell of age and decay, as well as the aroma of some oils he had used on the armor recently, giving Raeln something.

“What happens if I stay here?” he asked, hoping On’esquin was close enough to hear.

“There is nothing in the prophecies, aside from the usual foreboding belief that if we do not act, the world suffers. Any one of us who dies or fails will doom or hinder the whole, I would dare say. If I were to judge based on experience with people, your time here will eventually lead to more and more reckless attempts to defend them, until you foolishly attack the Turessian army in hopes that it will put an end to your misery. Your suicide will end your suffering but wipe your name from history…and likely take away any chance of meeting the ones you wish in the next life, should there be one. My people did not believe in afterlife, but I know yours do. To my people, such a pointless death would merely make your life forgotten.”

Raeln sighed and let his ears and shoulders droop. Deep down, he knew On’esquin was right. He had already begun routinely hunting without weapons and had attacked creatures larger than himself without calling for help. There was a certain thrill in it, a sense of being alive again for a moment. It would not be hard to imagine craving that rush, needing it to go on. That would easily get him killed in time, and that time was probably not too far off.

“Where are we going and when?” he finally asked.

On’esquin patted Raeln’s shoulder as he came up alongside him. “There were clues placed throughout the prophecies as to where each of you would be found,” On’esquin explained. “They are difficult to interpret by intent—Turess did not want anyone else to find them. Only a few were revealed to me before his death. Thankfully, I think I know where to find the next person we need and it is not even a long walk. It is my belief that each companion we find will point us in the direction of the next and eventually guide us to a way to stop the Turessians. We had to wait a space of time and I think that time is over.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then we have found something else to spend our time doing and we die feeling like we tried. I cannot say that is a worse fate than remaining here. You, I imagine, would appreciate a fight that did not involve helpless commoners. I don’t recall you being overly fond of kicking orphans or taking candy from small children, which I believe will be your next course of action around here.”

Raeln gave the camp one more sweep with his eyes and then turned to face his companion. “Do you have anything back there that you need?” he asked. “I’m ready when you are.”

“We should bring food, Raeln. It may not be a long walk, but it will still take a week or more. I cannot starve to death, but you can.”

“There’s no food to pack,” Raeln admitted, turning to walk into the woods. “We’ll find food along the way. Promise me that you’ll explain why you can’t starve before we arrive.”

“I can’t promise that. I might need far longer than a week.”

Raeln looked over his shoulder at On’esquin, who gave him a small smile in return. The man could have been joking, but Raeln could never be sure. Shaking his head in frustration, he picked a direction and started walking, knowing, when the time was right, On’esquin would say something to guide him.

He had barely made it fifty feet when a distant horn brought him to a complete stop. He waited where he was, his ears twisting back and forth, trying to locate the source of the call while debating whether to continue on. That call should have only been used to indicate an attack, which was something the camp had not seen in almost three months. The last time, it had only been a bear that had wandered into one of the outer tents looking for food.

“Go and help them one last time,” On’esquin said, holding out his sheathed sword toward Raeln. “Give them a good memory of you.”

Raeln stared at the sword’s hilt a long time, trying to remember the last time he had held an actual weapon. His thoughts were cut short as another call from the horn echoed through the woods, giving him a more clear direction to look. A second scout had spotted the threat and they were trying to triangulate it for the hunters who would come running.

Far off to the southeast of the village, Raeln could still see a thin line of smoke over the trees. That had been the same direction the warning call of the horn had come from. To Raeln’s knowledge, no one had tents set up so far from the center of the village. If it was not someone from the village, then that black smoke meant something completely different.

“Elementals,” Raeln grumbled, taking the hilt of On’esquin’s sword and yanking it from its sheath. “Bloody lovely time for them to show up.”

On’esquin squinted at the smoke rising over the trees and nodded, saying, “Flame elementals would have been nice a few months ago, when the snow was still on the ground. Right now, I think most of the people here would wish for something with more meat on it. Unless there is such a thing as a steak elemental, I believe this is a real danger with no benefit.”

Raeln ignored On’esquin’s half-hearted attempt at humor and began running straight toward a spot halfway between the village and the smoke. Judging by the rate of the smoke’s movement, he should be close to meeting it. He wanted to make sure whatever was out there got stopped before it could see the camp, lest anything report back to something even more dangerous.

He ran hard, ducking often to avoid low-hanging branches rather than go around. Distantly, he heard the shouts of the village’s other defenders, hurrying to intercept whatever was coming. Raeln believed he would reach the elementals a few seconds before the others, which suited him just fine.

Soon, the woods ahead of Raeln grew darker as heavy smoke filled the area under the heavy tree-cover. That black fogginess soon gave way to increasing warmth and light ahead as he approached what sounded like a bonfire. Another few weeks and the mountains would have been into their dry season and he would have been dealing with far more than smoke.

Raeln slowed and continued at a slow walk, trying not to alert whatever was in the trees before he had to. A series of loud pops made him wince, thinking at first that he had been seen, but he soon realized the sound was a tree’s bark splitting and branches breaking and falling. A second after that, he could see the elementals.

To someone casually glimpsing the creatures, they might have appeared to be a line of wildfires spreading across the otherwise wet ground—the source of much of the smoke. Having met these creatures more than once in the wilderness, Raeln knew better. He could see the distinct vaguely manlike shapes of each elemental, made entirely of dancing flame. Unlike a real flame, these would never go out on their own. They would move aimlessly, burning everything they could find, making them as mindless as any zombie Raeln had fought.

The elementals had not sought out the village, that much Raeln knew. They had gotten lucky and happened to be wandering in that direction. Intent or malice was unimportant though—the elementals would easily burn the whole village to the ground if they were not stopped well away from the first of the cloth tents.

Raeln searched around for any water. There was plenty of mud, but far too little water to make his life easier. Given that he was already soaked to the skin by rains from that morning, he had to hope that would be enough.

Running at the lead elemental, Raeln slashed his sword through it, continuing past in hopes he could escape its flames before it had a chance to react. The sword passed through without any real resistance—something he had found distinctly creepy the first time he had fought an elemental—but seemed to do enough “damage” to the creature to kill it. With a pop and hiss, the elemental exploded outward, making its fellows glow all the more brightly and causing Raeln’s clothing to smolder.