The Northern Approach (29 page)

“Don’t be. This is all part of why we are who we are now. This is why I will not allow myself to kill anything that has not been created by Dorralt or his kin. My choices are my own to bear, not yours. Do not attempt to take on my burden or those of our companions, or you will destroy yourself slowly. It will consume and crush you, Raeln. You have enough to face up to without trying to help us with our own losses. The pain you bear should be limited to that which you had a part in. Trust me when I say that anyone else’s burden must be left to them.”

Snorting, Raeln closed his eyes and tried to at least look like he was attempting to meditate. He knew from experience it would not happen, his muscles rapidly becoming twitchy and demanding he pace or fight something. Still, he did not want to give On’esquin more to lecture him on, so he kept his eyes clamped shut and legs crossed under him, trying to find some small calm within himself to use to weather the long night.

Instead, he found himself thinking on the brief time he had with Greth until his mind eventually shut down and let him rest for a short spell.

*

Blood filled Raeln’s nightmares during the brief sleep he got near dawn. He saw brief glimpses of the dead in Lantonne during his own escape that he had managed to ignore at the time, their accusing eyes telling him he should be among them. He fled the city in his dreams, trying to get out before the undead could overwhelm him desperately trying to ignore the horror of it all as he had the first time.

Raeln realized he was no longer alone and looked back to see Greth behind him, easily keeping pace. The man gave him a reassuring smile despite the strain of running so hard, letting Raeln know they would both be okay soon enough. They merely needed to get outside the city, and for some reason, the Turessian army would leave them alone. They would be safe and they could be together, ignoring the war that would wash across the lands of Eldvar.

As Raeln watched, undead came from the side streets, closing in on them before he could react. His limbs felt leaden, keeping him from getting to Greth before hundreds of corpses separated them. For a reason the dream alone understood, the undead never touched Raeln, instead descending on Greth as Raeln watched helplessly, trying to push them aside to get to his love.

Again came the blood as Greth died in agony, just outside Raeln’s reach. It was something he had seen a hundred ways almost every single night, driving a knife into his chest each time.

Screaming within the dream, Raeln collapsed and continued to scream and howl, trying to find sense in the bloodshed. When he looked up again, he lay in the foothills near Altis, surrounded by thousands of decaying corpses. Foremost among them, Greth stood over Raeln, his body torn and battered by the wounds that had killed him, inflicted by a Turessian in real life rather than the claws of the zombies.

“You couldn’t even save me?” asked Greth, his white eyes narrowing as he stared at Raeln. “Why would you think Estin and Yoska will fare any better? They will die and it will be your fault. Ask your sister how well you protect others.”

Sitting upright as the dream faded, Raeln gasped for breath, wiping away tears as he woke. In desperation he looked at each of his companions, praying each was still alive. Only then could he relax and slow his breathing.

Sunlight peeked through the room’s shuttered windows, casting the place in long shadows, letting him know he had slept for an hour or two, a good night by his current standards. The others were not up yet and all lay more or less as he had left them. The exception was the fox, which lay on her back, legs splayed in the air as she slept, kicking every so often. On’esquin appeared to be only just barely asleep, sitting with his back to the wall and an open book in his lap.

Shaking his head, Raeln took several deep breaths, struggling to make his heart stop pounding as though it was trying to push its way out of his chest. After several slow breaths, Raeln froze with his lungs full. He could hear boots outside the door to his right—lots of them. There was a crowd out there, which did not strike him as something normal.

Looking around as he exhaled as quietly as he could, Raeln could not find a single person moving and knew the dry boards of the floor would have made it easy to identify whether Ira, Thomin, and Geraine were up in the house’s back rooms. The movement was isolated to outside the home’s front door.

Raeln eased himself up, trying to keep silent. He put an ear to it in hopes that he could make more sense of all the nearby movement. Deep down, he hoped he would hear little more than the passing of urchins wandering past.

“Hold back the ranged troops until we clear the door,” whispered a raspy man’s voice outside. “Give the other group one minute before we go in. I want this clean. No screams, no runners. Kill them all before they can alert anyone else. Understood?”

Raeln’s ears shot straight up. They had been found somehow and the Turessian-controlled soldiers or corpses outside were going to attack at any moment. Sniffing, he confirmed there were at least a few undead among them. He did not have much time, and anything he did might alert them that he was awake and start the attack all that much sooner.

Turning in place, keeping one hand on the door so he could feel if they tried to open it, Raeln’s eyes fell on the chair where Thomin had sat while talking with Yoska. Leaning to keep from having to leave the door, he grabbed the chair and hoisted it off the floor, bringing it over to the door and gently placing it back down. He angled the chair and slid it up against the door’s handle, hoping those on the other side did not hear the faint scuff of it settling into place. When nothing hit the door, he assumed he had been quiet enough. That would buy him a few extra seconds before they burst in.

Raeln inched away from the door over to the small coat closet nearby, where Thomin had indicated there were weapons. The few shabby and rusted weapons they had brought with them would not get them far, so he knew they would need these if they were to make it through any kind of assault.

The closet clicked softly as Raeln opened it and he hesitated again, listening for the people outside to react. Hearing nothing, he pulled the door the rest of the way open. Inside, weapons of all sizes and shapes had been stacked or hung from hooks on the sides of the closet. Nearly an entire wall was occupied with knives, while swords, axes, and even a crossbow were stacked against the back. The spear Yoska and On’esquin had argued about lay propped against the back wall, covered with a layer of dust. On a shelf at the top, stacks of cloaks and other traveling gear lay forgotten.

Raeln grabbed weapons, tucking them under one arm. Once he had enough, he pulled the entire stack of clothing down and threw it toward the backpacks On’esquin and Yoska had discarded in the middle of the room.

Taking a deep breath, Raeln readied himself for battle as he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Undead! To your feet!”

On’esquin’s eyes snapped open first and he threw the book aside as he rolled sideways to grab his armor. He had the armor halfway on as he stood, before the others had even budged, and the clatter of Ira and Thomin from the back of the house let Raeln know they had heard too.

Yoska and Estin were a little slower but hardly took a moment to get their senses about them. They both grabbed their things as quickly as they could manage, with the fox near Estin looking around in confusion as she shook off sleepiness more like a person than an animal. Once she seemed to understand, the fox grabbed the cloaks with her mouth and dragged them toward Estin.

Outside, Raeln could hear an angry curse, followed by a wall-shaking kick to the door. Its hinges flexed and the wood buckled, but with the added support of the chair, the door held for the moment. One or two more kicks would shatter it.

“More in back!” called out Ira, pushing Thomin into the room with her from the hall, both of them yanking on traveling clothes as they came out of the bedroom. She shoved the door shut behind her and threw the latch, closing them into the one room. “They got in before we could seal that entrance.”

Stepping past Ira, Thomin touched the door to the back rooms and whispered something. A second later the door shimmered and Raeln thought he saw the narrow gap around it fade away, as though the door was a part of the wall. “They will not come in that way, but we have fewer ways to get out,” Thomin announced as a second blow to the front door knocked it slightly off its hinges. “Someone pick a direction and go!”

Raeln tossed weapons to everyone who was not still gathering their things. The spear went to On’esquin, a bundle of knives to Yoska and a second to Ira, and he threw a pair of swords to land near Estin, who was gathering fruit from a bowl on one of the tables into his pouches.

At the clatter of the swords on the floor, Estin looked over at Thomin and Ira. “Where’s your servant? Is he trapped in the back room?”

Ira did a quick head count before stomping her foot. Angrily, she said, “He’s not in his room. I thought he would be here. The bastard sold us out, yes?”

“Yes, indeed.” On’esquin told her, pulling the straps on his armor tight. He hefted the spear in one hand and went to stand near Thomin. “A fine weapon, Ira. Whoever forged it knew their art.”

“That would be the drunk’s first wife, may the spirits be kind,” Ira told him, sticking a thumb toward Yoska. “That woman knew her smithing.”

On’esquin sent the weapon through a blindingly fast spin, catching it in the same position where he had begun the motion. Smiling, he glanced at Raeln and nodded, signaling he was ready for battle.

Hoping he was as ready, Raeln drew a sword he had held back for himself and kicked the chair away from the door. Without it to support the broken frame, the entire door collapsed inward, revealing an armored man whose face was partially decayed. This intelligent undead looked up at Raeln in surprise, clearly not having expected they would come at him rather than run away.

Snarling, Raeln rushed out the door and cleaved the corpse’s face nearly in half. He spun as he cleared the door and reached the alley, backhanding another undead man in the forehead, bouncing him off the stone wall. Ducking at the sound of a blade whizzing through the air, he came completely around and kicked a second soldier in the shield once the man’s weapon had gone over his head. The kick took the man off his feet, sending him into several more behind him. They all reeked of death, but fought like the living…a liability Raeln fully intended to use.

A crackle of flame warned Raeln that he had chosen his initial targets poorly. He looked back in time to see a man in black robes pointing his direction as red fire washed over a half dozen of the undead soldiers, filling the alley as it raced toward him.

Raeln closed his eyes and waited for the fire to hit him. He knew he could have dived into the home in time, but he could not bring himself to do it. The air heated rapidly around him and then cooled as the flames passed without hitting him. When he opened his eyes, a faint glow faded around his body and Thomin stood in the doorway nearby, hands moving as he crafted another spell. The man had saved him at the last possible moment.

“Deal with the others, I’ll take the wizard,” On’esquin shouted as he came out past Thomin to join Raeln in the alley.

Raeln had no time to argue or help the orc as four more soldiers closed on him from the other end of the alley, having escaped the flames by virtue of distance. They all bore swords of fine make that were lighter and faster than the one Raeln carried, and judging by their movements, they knew how to fight in the armor they wore. He had gotten used to undead being clumsy and slow back in Lantonne, but whatever creature had animated these had taken far more care.

Lowering his weapon, Raeln felt the calm of battle wash over him. There was no remorse or fear when he fought this way. He could see the way his foes could move—and how they could not—in attempting to avoid him. The whole world seemed to slow down when he was in the right mindset, and today he found that place within himself.

Raeln stepped in on the men, anticipating their attacks based on their movements, knowing there were places they would not swing out of fear of hitting each other or risking their weapons on the stone walls. He used that against them, weaving through their initial swings and forcing them to fight him at close range, where he had an absolute advantage.

He let the men surround him. It gave them false confidence and was the way he had always trained back in Hyeth. Three to six armed men against him, all intending to prove they were faster or stronger. As a child, it had been a game to prove he was worthy of the training his father had paid for. Now it was a resource he fully intended to use.