The Northern Approach (44 page)

Raeln gave him a worried look. “I understand you wanted to help and thought you were doing the right thing. This is exactly why I have no intention of asking you to bring my family and friends back to say good-bye. There’s too much that can go wrong. Magic is not the hand of a god righting the wrongs of the world. It is just another feeble attempt to change things that are already bad.”

Estin opened his mouth to say something, but then noticed the fox Dalania had disguised herself as, standing near the edge of the woods. She padded into the clearing, keeping her head low in an attempt to avoid any extra attention.

“Thought she’d run off by now,” Raeln said, sounding somewhat concerned. “Where’s the other woman that helped last night? I wanted to thank her.”

The fox’s surprise return was nearly forgotten as On’esquin came marching back into the area, glaring angrily first at Estin, then at Feanne, and finally at the fox. Sighing, the orc shook his head and pointed at the fox. “You! Enough of this,” he called out and Dalania froze, slowly looking his way. “Stop the games, child of the fae. I humored your deceptions for weeks…I will not continue. Either show yourself or leave.”

The animal sank a little lower to the ground and finally stood up and closed her eyes. As she had the last time Estin had seen her change, Dalania’s body twisted and reshaped itself violently, returning her to her mostly human form. Getting up off the ground, she brushed herself off and gave Raeln a wink. Estin heard the man growl in reply, though he was not certain why…or why he was not more surprised to see the change.

“How long have you known?” Dalania asked On’esquin as she came over to the fire and sat down near it, but as far as she could get from any of the men, which put her somewhat near Feanne.

On’esquin waited until the woman had taken a seat before replying. “I’ve known since we left that lake. Your magic works on me as well as anyone else’s does, which is to say that it doesn’t. I’ll have you know, seeing through a shapeshift disguise makes you look ridiculous, running around on all fours like that. I could see your true form the whole time, with a shadow of the fox blurring a little at the edges.”

Dalania blushed a deep crimson, made somewhat odd-looking with her green-tinted skin. Nervously, she wrung her hands as several leaves fell off of the vines that covered her body.

“And you,” On’esquin went on, turning his accusing finger on Estin. “I cannot stress enough how big of a mistake you have made.”

“Then explain it to me, instead of getting upset,” snapped Estin, no longer wanting to dodge the issue. “Tell me all the ways I’ve wronged the world.”

“All right, let me simplify our situation. You gave up all the power you had at your disposal,” replied On’esquin, talking as though speaking to a child. “You still feel weak? Yes? That is because all of the magic I gave you is gone. You used it recklessly and tore it free of your own body. Now the spirit I had possess your body is gone, lost to who knows where. Given that Feanne is still here, I’m guessing you also weakened your natural abilities greatly. Whatever magic was left over is feeding her to keep her alive. You will not recover anytime soon, if ever, Estin. Your talent for magic was all but given up for this. You sacrificed everything but your life.”

Estin instinctively reached for his magic within his mind, finding it elusive and difficult to reach. It felt as though he were wading through a bog to try to touch the flows of magic that had always been readily available, since the day Asrahn had taught him the art. Such a simple gesture made him feel sick to his stomach.

“I thought as much,” On’esquin added, having seen something in Estin’s reaction. “To make matters worse, this was not temporary. She is still here.”

Feanne glared at On’esquin and said quietly, “She can hear you and she’s not amused.”

Ignoring her, On’esquin continued. “What is she, Estin? Did she possess some natural ability to heal or recover from injury? There is something keeping her body from falling apart again, beyond her spirit leeching off of your magic. Simply casting the spell wrong would have drained you until you died, but your condition is not deteriorating, which tells me that she has something special about her that supplements the magic.”

Estin looked over at Feanne, who was watching him intently, obviously wanting to know more about herself. In her disoriented condition, that was the last thing he wanted to talk about around her, but he saw no other way. He would have to be very careful with what he did say, or she would become far angrier.

“She’s a lycanthrope…a were-fox. She heals very quickly and always has. It’s supposedly a curse of sort, like the one that affects werewolves, except more…um…fox. That was why I wanted to use the power you gave me to bring her back. She is the strongest of us.”

“She was,” On’esquin retorted, while Feanne gave Estin a look that told him she did not believe a word of what he was saying. “You brought her back and now that curse is keeping her alive. I doubt she will be able to do much more than breathe for some time. I do not claim to understand the magic keeping her alive, but to me, she is a…a thing, little different from the zombies we fought out there, other than having a pulse.”

Without a word Feanne leapt to her feet and ran into the woods, though On’esquin did not seem to notice.

Estin began to get up to go after her, but Raeln put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll calm her down and bring her back. You settle matters here.”

Estin watched in dismay as Raeln took off into the woods after Feanne. He was so tired and so afraid that he had done the wrong thing, selfishly bringing her back when he should not have even considered it. His doubts and fear consumed him, drowning out On’esquin’s ongoing ranting, slowly blurring into a seething anger. Estin was angry at himself, angry at the world for taking Feanne away, and most of all he was angry at the war that had brought about so much pain and suffering for so many people. That anger suddenly rose up against On’esquin as the man continued to rant about Estin’s decision, though Estin had long since stopped listening to the words.

Getting up off the ground, Estin found himself already midmotion as he struck On’esquin across the jaw and followed it up by pushing the man over backward. Judging by the look on On’esquin’s face, Estin had caught him by surprise, and he came down with a grunt hard enough that he kicked up dust around the fire pit, while Yoska attempted to cover his tea.

“I’ve had enough!” Estin shouted at On’esquin. “I walked away from you once and I’ll do it again. A little gratitude for saving your life wouldn’t be out of the question. My instincts told me to leave you all and run, but I came back for you anyway. What is really wrong, On’esquin? It obviously isn’t me. I’ve done everything you asked, right up until I had the chance to save a life. Tell me what you want of me.”

Rolling back onto his feet despite his heavy armor, On’esquin stepped up close to Estin, his anger only barely controlled. “We’ve fought before, Estin,” he warned, his voice low. “Do not push your luck. Your son isn’t here to save you this time.”

Estin put a hand to one of his swords and On’esquin immediately took a step back, reaching behind himself to grab the haft of his spear, though he did not unsling it from his shoulder.

“Are you sure you wish to do this, Estin?”

“I will not follow you halfway across the world being told at every step that I’ve failed or made a mistake. I’ve given up my family to help you, and I expect some damned gratitude. Call me whatever you want, but do not ever bring my children into it again.”

On’esquin nodded and tightened his grip on his weapon, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

Studying him for a moment, Estin had no assumption that he could kill or even seriously hurt On’esquin. The orc was a warrior, tried and true. He had fought in wars centuries before Estin had been born and had lost little of that skill in the time since. Still, Estin was possibly faster and was willing to risk being killed if it meant an end to the infighting. More importantly, Estin realized that dying fighting for his pride might be the ending he deserved after dragging Feanne back from the grave.

Estin drew first, pulling one of his swords free of its sheath and using it as a shield to cover himself as he drew the second sword. He came up swinging, but On’esquin already had his own weapon out and deftly maneuvered around Estin’s attacks, deflecting each with the haft of the spear at angles that kept the blade from slicing into the wood of the spear.

The two of them lunged and slashed, their weapons narrowly avoiding connecting solidly with one another. Both soon bled freely from many smaller cuts, where they had been a little too slow to fully block or avoid the other’s weapon. They kept at it, Estin trying to avoid On’esquin’s powerful thrusts and swings, while On’esquin often had to fall back onto defense to keep Estin’s faster strikes at bay, twirling the spear to parry rapidly.

This was a losing battle and Estin knew it. On’esquin would eventually overpower him, if only through endurance and the fact that he could take a wound and not concern himself overly with blood loss. A single deep cut and Estin would slow and ultimately die.

Knowing he had little time to truly leave a lasting impression on On’esquin before the man defeated him, Estin feigned losing his balance and stumbled backward. On’esquin immediately took the bait, attempting to use size and strength to knock Estin to the ground using the haft of the spear like a bludgeoning weapon.

Estin spun as he stumbled, coming around as fast as he could, adding to the momentum of his tail. Like so many others Estin had fought, On’esquin had given the tail no thought until it cracked him alongside the head, startling him. By the time the orc realized what Estin was doing, Estin had come fully around and stepped into On’esquin’s defenses, driving his sword to its hilt through the man’s stomach armor.

“Stop!” shouted someone else before Estin or On’esquin could react.

They both looked toward the sound.

Standing at the edge of the woods was Raeln, with Feanne at his side. Both regarded Estin and On’esquin with disgust, though it was Raeln that had spoken. Feanne shook her head and wandered off to sit by the fire, not looking at either of them further. Meanwhile, Raeln came marching toward them with all the force of a boulder rolling down a mountainside.

“Give me that!” Raeln growled, yanking On’esquin’s weapon from his hands. Reaching down, he snagged Estin’s, pulling the one sword from On’esquin’s gut with a sickening sound. “You both are better than this.”

“We…I…” On’esquin started, but trailed off and lowered his eyes as Raeln glared at him.

Estin thought to say something, but Raeln’s attention turned sharply on him, those eyes far too cold to challenge. He felt the same way he had when Asrahn had scolded him like an overgrown child.

“Hundreds of miles to go before we face a superior force with thousands of soldiers at their disposal,” said Raeln, throwing their weapons aside. “One of you holds all the answers for how we are to survive that, and the other likely has the ability to make it happen. We need each other, and I will not let your egos get in the way of us having a fighting chance at avenging everyone we’ve lost. The next time either of you decides to take a swing at the other, it will be me you fight. I will not fight to win, but to humiliate. Do we all understand one another?”

On’esquin regarded Raeln as though he were evaluating his chances. Raeln seemed to recognize that as well as Estin did and grabbed On’esquin’s armor, pulling the burly orc off his feet. Despite On’esquin being nearly as tall as Raeln and easily twice his weight, Raeln lifted him several inches off the ground with trembling arms, despite his wounds from the night before.

“Do. You. Understand?” Raeln repeated slowly.

“Understood,” offered On’esquin, grinning broadly. “Thank you for fulfilling your role.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” demanded Raeln, setting On’esquin back on his feet.

The orc patted the rolled prophecies at his hip, and Raeln rolled his eyes and shoved On’esquin away from himself. Turning away, he went to sit by the fire, near Feanne, who still had yet to so much as look Estin’s way.

“He’s supposed to lead?” Estin asked softly, unsure what he should do. He was nervous that moving far from where he stood might bring Raeln right back over.

“Yes,” replied On’esquin, looking equally uncomfortable. The man eyed his weapon, only a few feet away, but seemed unwilling to risk going after it. “Turess said, ‘When the elf finds his fangs, he will guide them.’ Raeln was raised among elves.”