The Northern Approach (72 page)

“Biggest damned lycanthrope I’ve ever met,” whispered Liris, giving Feanne a fake smile. “You don’t understand a thing I’m saying, do you, you fuzzy bastard? Raging mindless animal…”

Rolling to her feet, Liris tried to scramble out of Feanne’s reach, but she underestimated the length of Feanne’s arms. She made it several feet before Feanne slammed her flat to the ground, and then picked her up and held her with one hand that covered half of her torso.

“I…” Liris managed to squeak out before Feanne slammed her into the ground again. A second later Feanne repeated the motion, breaking Liris’s back.

With another roar, Feanne let loose, tearing at Liris with her claws, shredding the woman and leaving little more than a bloody heap. That she threw at the far wall of the ravine hard enough that when Liris’s remains hit, part of the wall collapsed, burying the body.

Sniffing the air and growling, Feanne turned back to Raeln, baring her teeth as she walked toward him. Apparently, he had not been submissive enough.

Raeln fought the pain from his last run-in with Feanne and got up, trying not to look any weaker than he already felt. She watched him as he moved, ready to attack him if he made any quick motions, but she instead turned her attention to Estin, who had yet to move. Feanne gave Raeln one more warning glance before walking over to Estin’s side.

Kneeling, Feanne reached for Estin but hesitated with her claws inches from him, seemingly understanding she might hurt him more by trying to help. Softly at first, she began howling a keening cry to whatever might listen, hunkering down over Estin to shield him from the few snowflakes that fell. Raeln knew well enough that she would protect him from anyone who tried to come over, whether or not they were trying to save him.

Fighting his bruised body’s desire to fall, Raeln limped out of the section of the ravine where they had been, trying to get a better view of the rest of the battle. The others had not even fared as well as he and Estin.

All of the wolves were dead or had fled, leaving only Yoska and Dalania to fight against eight Turessians. Given the odds, Raeln was not surprised to find Dalania on her knees in front of three of the council members, trying to slow bleeding from several large wounds, while the nearest Turessian shouted something at her. Yoska was lying on his back near the rest of the council, with one of the women kicking him repeatedly and a Turessian man near her slowly extracting Yoska’s knife from his throat.

Reaching down, Raeln picked up Estin’s swords, intending to charge back into battle. If he was very lucky, Dalania might be able to sneak away during the chaos. Even that he guessed was asking too much of himself as his left arm shook, the loss of blood from the cut and burns there making it difficult to hold the sword.

“Drop your weapons!” shouted one of the Turessian men, noticing Raeln. “There doesn’t need to be any more death here! Surrender and we will treat you no worse than any other slave. Fight and we will crush you.”

Raeln heard Feanne’s wails trail off and turn into a growl. Whether she knew he was a friend or not, he smiled as he heard her stand up and saw the faces of the Turessians drop. Every single one of them was staring past him, having forgotten Yoska and Dalania. Even if Feanne came after Raeln, he intended to run at the Turessians to make them think she was working with him. It might give him a small chance of saving someone, anyone.

Increasing his pace toward the Turessians, Raeln raised the swords and shouted a battle cry, praying it would be enough to break their morale. Though two of the men began backing away, one woman kept her head and quickly weaved a spell, snaring Raeln’s arms. It felt like a rope had been wrapped about his body, constricting as it dragged him down, forcing him to his knees.

Raeln looked back, hoping Feanne was going to go on past him, but as he turned, Feanne flew across the ravine and slammed into the far wall, away from the Turessians. She hung there, held off the ground by magic she clawed at ineffectually, trying to break free.

“So full of surprises!” exclaimed Liris, sliding out of the rubble where she had landed. She kept one hand held toward Feanne, letting Raeln know who was maintaining the spell. If he could get to her and break her concentration, there was still a chance Feanne could turn the tide of the fight. That would require freeing himself, though.

Walking to the middle of the battlefield with a limp, Liris surveyed the broken remains of the wolves before going over to the council members. She scowled at those still nursing wounds of their own and then went over to Yoska. Bending down, she checked his neck for a pulse with her free hand. Nodding, she moved next to Dalania.

For a moment Raeln thought Liris was going to help Dalania up, but instead she punched Dalania, smashing her nose and knocking her to the ground.

“Hundreds of years of this nonsense,” Liris said, sounding as though she was finally stepping past the point of madness, keeping her left hand aimed at Feanne as she approached Raeln. “Hundreds! Do you even comprehend how long that is? I’ve lived so very long…maybe a thousand generations of your kind…but even I haven’t had to deal with this degree of nuisance very often. All of this foolishness because of three words. Black and white…black and white…I have heard nothing but that ridiculous prophecy since Dorralt came to me. He has obsessed about it and it is that stupid phrase that led me to you and Estin.”

Turning to the council members, Liris told them, “Declare the prophecy void. Declare it false.”

The eight men and women gave each other significant looks but kept quiet.

“Declare it!” screamed Liris madly. With her free hand, she motioned toward Estin. “The man of black and white lies dying over there. I’ve killed the rest like him and scattered anything else that might fit the prophecy. It is over. Declare it so that we can go home and put aside two thousand years of superstition that began with that idiot, Turess! I want to leave before those mists come down here!”

Starting with one woman, the council members one at a time began nodding in agreement.

“Do you think that is enough?” snapped Liris, her face red with rage. “Call out to our master. Tell him it is over! What more do I need to do…rip his head off? If that is what you need as proof…”

Liris walked past Raeln, passing close enough that he could have grabbed her, were it not for the spell still holding him. He strained until his bleeding arm went numb again, but he could not free any part of his body from the pressing weight of the spell.

Coming up beside Estin, Liris put her boot to his throat, slowly crushing his neck as she watched the council’s reactions. “I will give you all a keepsake of the last so-called man of black and white,” she announced, grinning. “Make the declaration that Turess lied. That he was a failure. He was a madman spouting nonsense about two colors.”

The clearing of a single throat off to one end of the ravine seemed to echo louder than any amount of Liris’s screaming. Every face in the ravine turned toward that sound.

“Rithast liroph dineinne,” said a man somewhere behind Raeln.

Straining against the magical ropes, Raeln only barely managed to turn enough to see another Turessian standing at the entrance to the tomb, dressed in oversized white cottons of the style On’esquin had brought with him from Jnodin. Over that, he wore part of On’esquin’s black robe as a mantle, belted to keep it from slipping off his far smaller frame. Raeln was willing to bet that even the belt was On’esquin’s, as it appeared to have been wrapped around the human twice.

“What the hells is this?” demanded Liris, looking between the council members for some explanation. “Does anyone speak old Turessian? I didn’t get a word of that. Anyone? Surely someone bothered to learn the old tongue? Be quick!”

Groaning and sitting up, Yoska wiped at a wide swath of blood on his brow and sighed. “One of us speaks old Turessian. Maybe next time you ask nicely before the beatings, yes? The crazy old gypsy man knows things that crazy old dead people forgot to take time to learn, no?”

Raeln laughed as Liris’s face twitched with fury. Somehow she managed to keep her hold on Feanne, though she took her boot off of Estin and quickly walked toward Yoska.

“What did he say, gypsy?”

Yoska gave the council members nearest him an angry glance and rolled onto his hands and knees to stand.

“I want an answer, not you standing up to fight again!” Liris yelled, kicking him down again. “Answer or I break off pieces of your body for sport!”

Laughing, Yoska sat back down and said, “He says you defile the honor of your clans. Literally, he says, ‘The clans of you are dishonored by actions.’ There may be more to it, but is best I can translate. Some of the more subtle parts of old language is beyond me.”

Liris looked back at the robed man, who stood patiently by the tomb, casually studying each person in the valley. Slowly her eyes widened and she blinked, staring intently at his clothing. “Black and white,” she mumbled, stumbling toward the man, her arm nearly dropping. “He meant a wildling. Dorralt swore that Turess meant a wildling!” Then, turning to the council, she screamed, “Kill him! I want to know who he is after his remains are at my feet! The one who brings his head to me will have Dorralt’s blessings!”

As Raeln watched, the man they were moving against raised his arms out to either side, palms up. Behind him, the fallen zombies that had been contained at the entrance to the tunnel rose to their feet and marched out to surround him. It was with that motion that Raeln saw the man had the old chain On’esquin had been carrying wrapped around his right wrist and Yoska’s cup hanging from his belt.

The council seemed entirely unsure of what was happening. They looked nervously between Liris and the man, clearly trying to decide where their loyalties lay. The more they balked, the weaker the chains on Raeln became. Soon he would be able to strike if they did not realize their mistake. He needed a few more seconds, but it appeared the newcomer intended to get him more than enough.

Finally, several of the council members began weaving spells. Bolts of flame and lightning arced across the ravine toward the man near the tomb. Every spell was intercepted by one of the corpses around the man, who threw themselves in the way of the magic, trying to protect him with speed that belied their poor condition. When the council members had stopped casting, the man still stood, though there were none of the zombies remaining. Every corpse lay in an arc in front of him, twitching occasionally.

The strange man seemed to be actually tearing up as he gazed at the fallen zombies, his shoulders hanging sadly as he looked from one to the next. Wiping at his face, he motioned toward the council members, and the dire wolves that lay broken and dead through the ravine all clambered to their feet. As the wolves raced after the council members, the magic holding Raeln faded enough that he stood again, straining against the invisible chains and almost breaking free.

The council scattered, the wolves darting back and forth through them, doing more damage than they had in life. The last of the Turessians to run—other than Liris—was the one holding Raeln, who frantically looked between him and the approaching wolves, clearly terrified of both. Raeln just smiled back at her, waiting for her control to slip. He made a point of baring his fangs when the woman paled nervously.

The instant a wolf tackled the council member and tore into her, the hold on Raeln collapsed and his arms moved freely again. Turning to check on Feanne, he saw that she was still held, snarling and spitting as she thrashed, trying to get at anyone but mostly just knocking stones from the ravine wall. The whole time she only had eyes for Estin, even ignoring Liris and the rest of the battle in her efforts to go to him.

Liris had moved farther away from Raeln, keeping one hand toward Feanne as she made her way toward the Turessian man near the tomb.

Looking up, Raeln saw the mists had begun to descend, creating a canopy over the ravine. They had mere minutes left before that cloud was on them.

“Identify yourself!” shouted Liris, glancing back toward Yoska, who was huddling down to keep from getting mauled by the wolves. “Tell him I want his name, gypsy! Tell him!”

Raeln ran for Liris, hoping the wolves could keep the others busy. He had closed half the distance before she noticed his approach, turned, and flicked her free hand in his direction. Pain flared through his leg and he fell, much of his thigh torn open from her magic. Crying out in agony, he pulled himself up with his good arm and leg, trying to push on to close the last ten feet to Liris. Blood spread across the trampled snow as he dragged his torn leg.