Raeln thought quickly, trying to make some sense of the sudden turn of events. With the other wagon following them into the swamp, they could not very well turn around and flee for another city. They had Jnodin and little else. “Yoska, you’ve been to this city before?” Raeln asked and the man nodded. “What are their capabilities for something like this here?”
“Who knows now? Before the war, Jnodin had big temple at its center dedicated to some old god of trees or something. Was great place to nick a coin or two from unguarded offering plates—”
“Forget about that, Yoska. Can you give someone directions to that temple?”
“Of course. Why would we try, if city has been turned into dead people? Temple would be first target, no? Jnodin not known for having battle-healers for fighting dead people, but any healer can try in a pinch. If I were evil dead man with goal of taking city, I would kill all healers.”
“Dead or alive, they are still healers,” Raeln told them and Estin opened his eyes to stare at him. “I’ll take Feanne to the temple and trade my life for hers. The Turessians aren’t mindless and I may be able to strike a bargain to have them let her go. If I fail, she’s no worse off.”
Estin shook his head. “Not on your life, Raeln. I’ll die with my mate and not send someone else to do it for me. Take the others through the outskirts of town. Any way you can find around. I’ll take her in and negotiate. They know my face all too well already and that might help me get close. Most of them will want to torture me before killing me outright.”
“Are you certain?” Raeln asked, wishing he could talk Estin out of it. He knew better though, from one look at the man’s face as he nuzzled Feanne’s cheek. “Estin, this is a death sentence. You have to know that.”
“Why would I ask someone else to do that for my mate? I brought her back incomplete…I need to make it right or die trying,” he said in reply, grabbing his belt with its sheathed swords. Buckling it on as he stood, Estin pulled a scrap of torn paper from his pouch and added, “It’s been a pleasure traveling with all of you, if I don’t come back. All I ask is that is that someone take responsibility for delivering this to my children in Corraith. I want them to know what happened.”
Yoska held up a hand and took the paper from Estin, saying nothing as he watched Feanne sadly.
“I’ll go within the hour as we get closer,” continued Estin. He checked his bags one more time and then took a shuddering breath. “If I escape it will be with her. We’ll meet you after the city or not at all.”
For the next hour, they all listened quietly to Yoska as he detailed the layout of the city for Estin. His directions were immensely intricate, including many of the ways of avoiding notice within the city and ways around the back alleys. Estin listened to it all passively, holding Feanne’s hand and stroking it as he waited for them to get closer to the city.
“One last thing,” added Yoska, though Raeln noted he had said that no less than ten times already. “Jnodin is not like other cities when it comes to wildlings. City has been too close to Turessi border for generations. There are no wildlings here. Never have been that I know of. Any smart animal people flee south…not-so-smart stay in Turessi. Jnodin people will not know what to make of you. If temple is still standing, they will not care, but others might be less kind. They may kill without asking questions. Only temple might be safe for you.”
Estin tightened his grip on Feanne’s hand. “Expect them to treat me like a wild animal. I can do that. Altis was worse.”
Sitting with them since On’esquin had taken the reins, Dalania approached Estin, still clearly nervous about being close to any of the men. She met Raeln’s eyes and he saw in her expression the expectation that this was the last time she would ever see Estin or Feanne.
“Estin,” she said, kneeling beside him. Estin did not look up from Feanne, as he had not when others had spoken, but his ears cocked in her direction. “I have something that belongs to you. Her father—your father in a sense—explained to me the significance of these once, and I think it is time for you to have it back. Self-sacrifice for love or honor was one of the reasons he gave for these being awarded in the first place.”
Reaching down to one of the more densely vined sections of her chest, Dalania pulled a leather strap that had been carefully concealed among her leaves. She had somehow managed to hide a necklace there, the brown of the leather blending with the vines that grew from her body. As the broken bones and feathers—with its one unbroken, long black feather—came into view, Raeln and Estin both stared wide-eyed at it.
“Greth threw that into the woods before we met you,” Raeln said, and Dalania smiled warmly at him. “I had no idea you found it.”
Tears began to run down Estin’s cheeks, and he tried to talk but could not manage to form words. He took the necklace from her and reached out to hug her. Dalania flinched but accepted the gesture, holding Estin tightly for some time.
“Come back to us,” she told Estin, finally pushing him away as she wiped away tears of her own. “Feanne and I still have much to learn from one another, once she remembers all of her magic. I would not wish to give that up.”
After saying good-bye to each of them, Estin slid his arms under Feanne’s knees and back and lifted her off the ground. He pulled her close to his chest, making it easier to carry her—and, Raeln was guessing, to reassure himself he was doing the right thing by keeping her as close as he could.
“We get close to ascent to main gates,” Yoska told the group as he peeked out the window. “You will need to leave soon, I am sad to say. Less than a minute to the sewer entrance.”
Raeln took his place at the back door of the wagon, holding the handle to open it when signaled by Yoska. Estin walked over and steadied himself, ready to leap out with Feanne when the time was right.
“Now!” Yoska said sharply.
Estin and Raeln gave each other one last significant look and then Raeln opened the door. Without hesitation, Estin leapt out and landed in the mud, before running hard for the sewer entrance Yoska had told him about.
“Come back to us with her, Estin,” Raeln said to himself as he closed the door. As an afterthought, he added, “Both of you come back to us alive.”
“Prayer for the Dead”
I know that historians have always taught us that the world has a limited number of events that can ever happen. Every few generations, these things happen again, though the details and the order changes. To us mere mortals, hindsight is often the only way to find out that you are living through an event that has happened in recorded history.
Now I see visions of another time, where the wars I fought are waged once again. The death and violence that spread across the world comes once more. Even my own grief and struggles are repeated for another.
I would never wish these things on my foes, let alone an innocent. I see not only my suffering, but the deaths around me repeated. There is so much pain that we inflict on ourselves, to think that another will experience it again. He bears my grief as I have, knowing that there is no true escape.
Save him, On’esquin. Do not let him mourn as I have. As with my own life, his life is tied to the survival of the one he cherishes. Do not let it happen again…please…the place of the tree…
Scribbled note: My master has been unable to explain this entry to me in his weakened and delirious state. The images escaped him before he could tell me. I am afraid that this entry is meaningless without context. If Turess was correct about what is to come, I may not be able to stop it and honestly do not even know what to watch for.
-
Excerpt from the lost prophecies of Turess
His arms shaking from the effort of carrying Feanne while running hunkered down to keep his head and ears from scraping the low ceiling, Estin pushed on, refusing to acknowledge his own rapidly tiring body. He had honestly forgotten how heavy Feanne was, despite her lithe build. She likely outweighed Estin by several pounds of lean muscle, making his efforts all the more tiring.
The route into Jnodin was more difficult than Yoska had indicated, though the overall directions were correct. Estin had come in through an old storm grate that allowed refuse to pour out into the swamps. Judging by how badly bent the bars over the grating were, Estin had to assume it was used far more than the city cared to admit.
The entire sewer tunnel had been small, even to Estin. Standing straight up, he was barely over five feet tall—another inch or two with his ears perked—and the tunnel was still too short for him. The lighting made matters worse, making it very hard for him to see the occasional stone that had slipped from the ceiling. He had clipped his head nearly a dozen times and no longer could tell if the wetness on the back of his head was blood or water. He also had no time to check or reason to care, so long as Feanne’s condition continued to deteriorate.
Estin had stopped twice, both times finding Feanne’s pulse had slowed further and her skin felt chilly under her fur. He had not expected the poison would be so virulent, which told him her body had been far weaker beforehand than he had thought. It was only a matter of time until something came along that she could not recover from, and unfortunately it had been something deadly. He had not been able to rest, knowing every minute he delayed brought her much closer to death—or worse, given what the poison tended to do to its victims.
Pushing on, Estin realized the tunnel ahead was getting brighter, lit by sewage grates set into its ceiling every ten feet or so. That was enough for him to know he was within the city limits. About the time he reached the first of the gratings, Estin was able to make out multiple side passages, as the sewer line divided out to reach the rest of the city.
Estin followed Yoska’s directions, turning up the second right and continuing until he had passed four tunnels on his left. The fifth, he followed, counting each step he took. At one hundred he stopped and looked up, seeing nothing. Yoska had claimed there would be a grating that opened onto the front steps of the temple.
Double-checking his distance from the last intersection, Estin tried to determine if he had miscounted, but the distance appeared about right for his stride. He could not be more than a handful of steps off from the hundred steps Yoska had told him would place him at the exact spot.
His steps. Not Yoska’s.
Muttering to himself, Estin struggled to think of the last time he had been walking beside Yoska. The man was almost a foot taller than him with entirely differently shaped legs, and generally walked two steps for every three of Estin’s. That gave him at least some measure of difference he could use.
Reassessing the distance he should have walked, Estin continued on a little farther, stopping at the point he thought might be about right. Looking up, he saw a grating almost directly above him. He knew, based on Yoska’s directions, there were others that would put him in dangerous parts of the city very close to the one that led into the temple, but he had no way of knowing. He would have to have faith.
Estin eased Feanne down along the side of the tunnel, where she would not have to sit in much filth. She had begun shaking endlessly and her breathing was irregular. He had to hurry or she would choke to death on her own tongue as it continued to swell. Deep down, he tried to ignore the fear that the temple might not be able to help, either.
Pushing up on the grating, Estin strained until his legs and arms ached, but the old iron door would not move. He kept pushing until his body screamed at him to stop, but he could not, knowing he was running out of time. Finally, with one more heave, he managed to crack the rusty hinges of the grating and move it somewhat. He pushed again and shoved it aside enough that he was certain he could crawl up with Feanne.
Estin waited several seconds, listening at the opening for any hint that he had been spotted, but the dimly lit area above was as quiet as the sewers.
Reaching down, he picked up Feanne and with effort raised her to the opening and shoved her into the room above. As soon as he had gotten her into the room, he grabbed the edge of the grating and pulled himself up onto the floor beside her.
Estin realized he had misjudged what was up there, kneeling in the middle of a street rather than the room he had expected. Around him, a vast city lay lit by the dwindling light of the setting sun, made dimmer by the high walls all the way around. Despite the low buildings, he could see nothing but city and walls for what seemed like miles in every direction. No city had ever seemed quite so endless to him. Storm clouds had filled in across the sky, giving him the impression of a cavern ceiling. A vague sense of being stuck in a confined space nagged at Estin.
People were everywhere, Estin discovered. There were eyes staring at him and Feanne from every window and building in all directions, with more appearing every second. They were not angry, not wishing to hang him or throw chains on him—not yet. Rather, these people had no idea what they were looking at. They looked at him the way he had probably stared at his first Turessian, unaware of whether it was as dangerous as people claimed but fearing the worst. He was a wild animal, a cornered rodent in a city of “real” people. Soon those looks would turn to fear as they realized an animal trapped within the walls was dangerous. Then would come the torches and leashes.
Estin searched the area for the temple and discovered he was only a few dozen feet away from its steps. Wide curved stairs rose twenty feet to large archways that were lit by huge braziers Estin was willing to bet burned day and night. Beyond those he could not see much without going up the stairs. The walls were mostly plain, though he could make out subtle carvings of leaves all across them.
Commotion from farther up the street drew Estin’s attention back that way, where a group of undead had come into view. They followed behind a single human-sized person in black robes Estin recognized immediately. The woman that had chased them…the woman that had made sure his parents were killed. She also seemed to notice him, and he swore he could see her grin under her hood, even several hundred feet away. How she had already gotten into the city, he could not imagine. He had to guess he had been in the sewers far longer than he had thought.
Hissing angrily in the woman’s direction, Estin grabbed Feanne and lifted her again, guessing he had only a couple minutes before the Turessian reached him. He had to hope he could bargain for Feanne’s life one way or another, and that meant finding a healer. Once the Turessian reached him, there would be no more bargaining.
Estin turned with Feanne and ran up the steps as fast as he could manage without falling. In the distance behind him, he could hear others running after him, as citizens dove into their homes and the Turessian led her zombies down the street.
Estin was well past the point of exhaustion. He should have fallen an hour earlier, but he knew there was no chance to stop now. He could rest after the Turessian caught him and in the hours she would likely torture him before letting him die. Between now and then, he had to find a way to get Feanne healed and make her run for her life.
At the top of the steps, the temple lay sprawling ahead of Estin as a huge open area, surrounded by a mostly decorative wall. In the middle of the place, he could see twenty or so people in simple brown robes kneeling around a central podium he could barely see and honestly could not have cared less about. Trees had been planted in open sections of soil regularly around the temple, blocking his view of large areas. He did not care who these people worshipped, what god held sway here, or whether its followers were people he would have run from in another time and place. All he cared about was that he saw living people in the temple, where he had been told there would be healers.
“I need help!” Estin shouted as he crossed the threshold into the temple. One by one the worshippers looked in his direction, their eyes far less accusing compared to those outside. They had no idea what to make of him, but they were not judging him. “I need a healer!”
The brown-robed men and women got to their feet and headed toward Estin, their attention rapidly shifting to Feanne. They came to him in a rush, taking turns touching Feanne to judge her condition, all the while studying both her and Estin with no more confusion than any other stranger might have been given. They were curious, bewildered, but friendly.
“She had water from the swamp,” one of the priestesses noted as her hand touched Feanne’s brow. “She’s very far along. There is not much time. Her lungs are already filling with liquid. Another hour and she will rise as one of them.”
“I’ve successfully treated several with this condition,” one of the priests said, eliciting nods from others in the group. “You came to the right place, traveler. We will treat your woman. Take her to the altar and our elder priest will specify the treatments we may use. If he cannot help, we will do what we can until the high priestess returns, regardless.”
Estin glanced over his shoulder and could see the undead nearing the temple steps, with their Turessian leader at the head of the group. Not really taking his eyes off them, he followed the priests and priestesses to the middle of the open area, where the altar stood, with a human seated in a thronelike chair at its foot. Estin was only barely aware of the man, his full attention on the Turessian closing in on him from the streets.
“Please,” he asked as he turned to the altar and the priest seated there. As he raised his eyes to the man, Estin continued, “My mate…my wife…she drank from…oh, nine shades of burning hells…”
Seated at the altar was a man dressed similar to all the others in the temple, but Estin’s attention went straight to the tattoos that whorled around his cheekbones and brow.
The man grinned broadly at Estin, laughing at his dismay. “You thought you would not find any of us here?” the Turessian asked, waving away the other priests and priestesses, who backed to the edges of the temple. “Jnodin was wise enough to welcome our aid against the plague that lingers in the swamps outside. Your wife now suffers from its effects, due to your lack of faith in the people of Turessi, wildling.”
Estin wanted to scream, to draw his weapons and fight over Feanne’s body, but he knew exactly what had to be done. No matter the outcome, he had to negotiate.
Laying Feanne at the foot of the Turessian’s throne, Estin knelt, lowering his head almost to the stone floor. “I come to you for help, when I know you have no reason to give it. I beg for her life. Please, take me and let her go.”