Bones of the Empire (27 page)

Grabbing Dalania’s arm before she could attempt to run, Raeln said softly, “I need you to do this, Dalania.”

Dalania tapped her bare foot angrily, watching him with a look that seemed uncharacteristically angry. After a moment, she took a shaky breath, stepped toward the table, and took the stone plate Yiral offered her. She examined it briefly, tracing the etching with her finger. “This is old,” Dalania said, eyeing the stone. Her fear vanished as she studied the plate. “Several thousand years since it was carved. It’s not even from these lands. An exquisite piece, yet so simple. This came from the deserts?”

“Our people once traveled other lands,” Yiral acknowledged, though she gave Dalania a concerned look. “These stone plates came from the days of Turess.”

Dalania traced the rune with her finger, and as she finished the pattern, the whole thing lit faintly. “That was the first step, correct? The magic says that the plates are in the wrong order. Usually one joins the clan and then becomes a battle leader. We are reversing that.”

“Yes,” Yiral replied, uncorking the ink bottle and setting it on the table beside Dalania. She quickly slid the box containing the other stone plates away. Yiral eyed the glowing pattern on the plate Dalania held with subtle confusion. “Continue holding it, and the ink will do as the runeword dictates. Touch the ink to a spot between his eyebrows…or rather, low on his forehead between his eyes. He is the first without eyebrows that I know of. Wildlings are hardly the norm among our people. I am honestly unsure how this will turn out.”

Raeln knelt, lowering his head so his forehead was close to Dalania.

She hesitated, but soon reached out and touched her finger to the ink, which clung to her like a gel. Looking between the ink and the stone plate she held, Dalania stepped right up to Raeln, holding the hand with the ink near his head. “Are you sure?” she asked pleadingly.

“Please,” he insisted.

Dalania’s finger pressed into Raeln’s fur on his forehead just above his eyes. At first he felt nothing but the cool dampness of the ink. Then a slight burning sensation spread from that point, growing in intensity and radiating through his forehead as though a torch had been put to his fur. The pain grew, and he clenched his jaw to keep from screaming as the sensation made him feel as though his skull was being pried open. Once the agony faded, Raeln blinked away tears and looked up at Dalania, who was watching him with horror in her eyes.

“Welcome to Turessi, brother and war leader,” Yiral announced, removing a small mirror from the lid of the box. Turning it toward Raeln, he could see a pattern of black runewords stood out against the rest of his grey and white fur, with elaborate whorls that continued past each of his temples and down to his jaw. The “tattoo” looked to be a dying of his fur, but when he brushed at it with his claws, the shape of the symbol never changed, all the way down to his skin. “What would you have your family’s armies do to protect Turessi?”

The room went silent for several minutes, making Raeln feel overly conscious of the glares directed his way. Slowly, one by one, those who had objected bowed their heads in submission.

Once all of them had acquiesced, Yiral leaned close to Dalania and whispered only loudly enough that Raeln could hear. “What did you do, child? The symbols on his brow are not the ones on the plate I gave you. They say something different than what should be written on him.”

Dalania shrugged and looked at Raeln, turning the plate so he could see it. The symbol there was a match for one of the four now on his brow. The others did not appear on either that plate or the others he had seen in the box.

“What does it say?” Dalania asked, placing the stone on the table.

Yiral sighed and turned her attention to Raeln. “It says that he is a battle leader, but it also says that he has been marked as a wise one by the spirits of nature, and declares him to be the greatest among dire wolves. The last one is not one I have seen before, though it does reference Turess in a fashion. I do not even know what any of this means, child, but it will lead to many fearful rumors in the days to come.”

“Kerrelin”

How do you convince the stubborn to help a cause that will likely lead to their deaths? It’s a struggle I have had, and others have had with me, since the start of this war. Most of us simply want to survive, to make it to the next day, to protect our loved ones from harm. We do not want to fight a war, but there is no other way.

This is why I agreed to go with Raeln and why we never left. The war was too widespread. My family would suffer unless someone could bring an end to it, no matter how unlikely that might be. It took knowing that doing nothing was a cowardly act that would doom my children to convince me.

I can see why others are unwilling to join. They have a home and shelter from the war, or they simply have not seen that the war will come to them sooner or later. Until one loses everything, how can they believe it can get worse? I would have gladly believed I could avoid the war, had I been able to stay in the camp near Altis safely. I would have blissfully lived out my remaining years with Feanne and the kits, unaware of the war miles away, though I knew enough to know it was occurring.

That is what we face with the city of Jnodin.

These people believe their god will send a spokesperson—an avatar, Turess calls it—to lead them into war. They will take much convincing to leave the shelter of the only city that has held against the Turessians. I would dare say it might take an act of a god, though I don’t honestly believe in such things. Prayers have always been a way to vent my own fears, rather than an act of communion with anything beyond my own mind.

Normally, when faced with my inadequacies in a situation, I turn to Feanne for help, no matter the issue. Unfortunately, this is a matter of human diplomacy. I might just need to be more convincing and try to keep Feanne from killing someone if talking does not get us anywhere.

“This is a waste of time, Estin,” Feanne said as they marched back up toward the gates of Jnodin. “They will trap us here again. I would not be caged.”

“We need them,” he reminded her, as he had every few minutes since the city walls had come into sight.

“Because the old human witch told you?”

“Yes, because the old human that bested you told me. When was the last time you lost a fight, Feanne?”

Feanne glared him, but he refused to look at her and had to struggle to keep from grinning. She hated that anyone had beaten her in a fight, and that it was a furless old woman made matters that much worse.

“Agree with vixen,” Turess told them, surprising Estin. Turess had been quietly nursing his bruises from their run-in with Mairlee all day and had barely made enough noise to remind them he was following. “Once in gates, is harder to get back out. We find other allies, yes? Do not need priests. Need warriors. Priests good for temperament of army, not so good for winning war.”

Estin stopped and turned to face Turess, who slid to a halt and backed out of Estin’s reach. “You insisted on us getting Mairlee to help us. She says we need the priests. Either we lose Mairlee or we go back into Jnodin and try. I have faith that we can sneak out again if we have to.”

“But…need warriors,” Turess repeated, looking crestfallen. “Mairlee might be wrong. Might be uncommon thing, but still may be wrong. She not here to kill me for saying so.”

“You know who and what she is, don’t you?” Estin demanded, and Turess quickly hid a smirk. “Is it worth trying to recruit the priests, if it gets us her help?”

“Yes. That is true. I cannot argue this. We need help of Mairlee.”

“Then we go back into the city. You two need to stop fighting me on this, unless you have a better plan. Do you?”

Both Turess and Feanne’s shoulders drooped, and they followed Estin the rest of the way up to the gates of Jnodin. The massive iron portcullis stood open, though the archers high above kept their weapons at the ready. It was not as pleasant a greeting as Estin had hoped for, but it could have been far worse.

Rishad and Arella walked to the middle of the gateway and stopped once they were visible. Despite the nearly twenty foot wide opening, something imposing about the two humans managed to make the whole entrance appear blocked. Estin tried to convince himself it was entirely because Rishad was a Turessian, but Arella intimidated him as much, if not more.

“You are not welcome back here, wildlings,” Rishad called out, and Estin saw the archers above notch arrows. “Turn back and return to Turessi. We offered hospitality once and will not do it again.”

Motioning for the others to remain where they were, Estin walked toward the open gate. He got within twenty feet of Rishad when the archers raised their weapons, pointing dozens of arrows at him. Stopping and raising his hands defensively, Estin meant to try to negotiate, but then he realized Feanne was standing right behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Turess cautiously following right behind her.

“What part of ‘stay there’ was I not clear about?” Estin asked in frustration, but Feanne’s glowering expression told him not to push the issue. Grumbling to himself, he returned his attention to the gates.

Rishad and Arella remained silent, standing in the middle of the path into Jnodin. Finally, Arella was the one to speak first.

“Wildlings, we have no quarrel with you,” she called out, touching Rishad’s shoulder as though to stop him from moving. “Turn around and return to the wilderness where you belong. This city is not for you. We will not welcome anyone coming from the north.”

Estin looked up at the battlements and the archers waiting there. He had to hope it was nothing more than a threat and they would not actually fire on him. Taking another step forward, he watched as the archers looked around nervously. That was a good sign. He was more than willing to gamble on the doubts of those men and women.

“We want to talk about what it would take to join forces,” Estin called to Rishad and Arella. He kept his eyes on the archers as he continued taking slow steps. Thankfully, Feanne and Turess stayed back.

Moving in front of Rishad, Arella replied, “We already have discussed this briefly in the past, wildling. The priests of Jnodin will not leave these walls for you or anyone else. Turessi is not our ally. That will need to be enough for you. Fight your war without us.”

Feanne walked quickly up alongside Estin, making him want to scream. If they kept creeping up as a group, sooner or later the guards would open fire. Before he could say anything, Turess ran up behind him, practically using him as a shield.

“Feanne, please just stay here,” Estin begged, getting another warning glare in response. “Don’t argue. Stay here. I need to look harmless if I’m going to get anywhere near them. If we all march in there, this will be a bloodbath.”

“I can work with that, Estin.”

“Let me try again…they will kill us all.”

“I would like to see them try.”

“Feanne!” Estin snapped, not really wanting to argue in front of a group of archers, a Turessian, and the head of the priestly order they were trying to recruit. “This one time, let me do what I have to do! Stay here! This is not your fight. I need to do this myself.”

Baring her fangs, Feanne hesitated before slowly calming down. With a sigh, she gave an angry swish of her tail and walked away from Jnodin, grabbing Turess by the sleeve of his robe and taking him with her. They continued back up the road about thirty feet, then stopped and turned to watch Estin. If he was reading Feanne’s expression correctly, she was silently telling him, “Do this right or I’ll butcher the whole city to save you.”

Once he was sure the others were far enough that they would not appear threatening, Estin turned back to the gates. “I’m coming over. I want to discuss this. I will not argue through shouts or threats from your archers.”

Arella pushed Rishad back when he tried to advance. Walking out of the gates, she met Estin halfway, both of them directly under the line of archers. Having Arella out there near him appeared to make the archers even more nervous, and many lowered their weapons somewhat. It was a small victory, but one he was happy to accept.

“I will not change my mind, Estin,” Arella said, pulling up her brown hood as the wind intensified, carrying light snow with it. “This is the way it has been for centuries and will be until Kerrelin sends his spokesman to us. No amount of arguing will change that. You are not the voice of our god, even if you are of the wilderness. Discuss all you wish. Jnodin will not march to war or welcome anyone from the north again. Turessi has declared war on the whole world, and we will wait here within our walls for our god to come back or the world to fall. It is our duty and our right.”

Estin looked up at the walls and the tense faces of the archers there. “I don’t suppose I could arm wrestle Rishad or something to convince you?”

“Rishad does not fight my battles, wildling. I am certain your mate understands this sentiment all too well. This is not a matter that brute force will resolve, I believe. However, if you attempt to continue into the city, I will use brute force to stop you. I do not wish to, but I will protect my city as I see fit.”

“You’d have them shoot us for trying to come inside? Seems like they’re fighting your battles.”

“No, I will not need their help,” Arella said, smiling. She motioned toward the walls and dropped her arm sharply, causing all of the archers to lower their weapons. “I can manage to stop two wildlings without depending on others. Turess I would leave to Rishad, though. It would make him happy. Disturbingly happy, I think.”

“I think you’re bluffing,” Estin answered, walking right up to her. Arella’s glare felt as deadly as Feanne’s in that moment. “If you have to kill me, do it, but we need your help. I’m going to walk into the city now. Stop me if you have to, but this needs to be done.”

Estin started around Arella, but she slammed her hand into his chest with as much force as any of the Turessians he had fought, grabbed a fist-full of fur through his shirt, and held him still. When he tried to pull free, he found he could not budge her arm.

“I told you that I would not need their help,” she said, shoving Estin back a step and then releasing him. “Good-bye, Estin. Fight your war and leave us alone. I wish you well.”

Estin eyed Arella, thinking about what he could do. He knew Feanne often used magic that enhanced her strength or speed, and had to assume this priestess was doing much the same thing. She certainly could not keep it up for long. From what little he knew of Kerrelin-worshippers like her, they prized resourcefulness, standing up to adversity, and strong-willed people. He had to try.

Taking a quick breath to steady his nerves, Estin moved again, and when she put her arm out to stop him, he tried to push past her. Grabbing him with vice-like fingers, Arella picked him up and slammed him down on his back, knocking the breath from his lungs. She did not even appear to be exerting herself.

“I told you that you may not enter!” the woman growled at him, her eyes gleaming briefly. “Do not push your luck!”

A roar preceded Feanne slamming into Arella by only a second or two. Feanne hit her hard enough that they both tumbled away from Estin, with Feanne snarling and hissing as she tried to bite or claw at Arella’s face and neck. Arella held her own, keeping Feanne from getting a grip on her. Kicking Feanne hard in the side, Arella rolled her away, and both women scrambled to their feet.

“It’s been a while since any of mine had the nerve to challenge me,” Arella said, her voice deepening by the second as she circled Feanne. From where he lay, Estin could see her legs shifting and bending, her steps unsteady as she changed shape. “Foolish move, fox. I will not spare you.”

In seconds, Arella’s body looked far more like Raeln’s than the middle-aged human woman Estin had meant to face. Pale grey-white fur covered every visible section of skin, and he could make out a tail trapped under her robes. Her large wolflike paws dwarfed the simple sandals she had been wearing before, crunching loudly on the snow beside the road. Using her long claws, Arella tore away part of her robe, which was now far too small to hold her.