Moon Rise (Twilight Shifters Book 2) (9 page)

"I don't want to stay in the camp," Aein blurted out.

"Me, neither," he replied.  "We need to repair it, in case help comes.  But we won't stay." 

The wind began blowing through the trees and Aein shivered.  It was not from the cold.  "Let's go now.  I want to make sure we are out of there before nightfall."

Lars stood and rolled up their wool blanket.  They helped each other put their armor on.  Aein wondered if she should start sleeping in the metal plate.  Lars held out the reins of her horse to Aein, but she did not mount.  Instead, she walked the horse out of the clearing.  Immediately the fog enveloped them.

"It is like it was waiting for us," Aein hissed with frustration as the sounds of battle surrounded her again.

"It was," replied Lars.

Aein walked over to her pack and drew out her axe.  She held it loose by her side. 

"Good thinking," said Lars.  "I wouldn't know something was about to attack us unless it had its claws through my neck."  The metal rang against the scabbard as Lars unsheathed his sword.

Then another gust rattled through the trees, but with it, the fog thickened and Lars disappeared into the white. 

"I cannot see you," said Aein, "even though I know you are walking just feet away from me."

"Keep talking.  I am going to reach out to you," said Lars.  "Try not to cut off my hand."

Aein was glad he gave her warning, because it took all her strength not to strike as his phantom fingers broke through the mist and grabbed at her.

"That is you, correct?" she asked.  "Not some undead creature who decided to take advantage?"

"You should be so lucky," Lars replied. 

They walked in silence, feeling the path with their feet.  Suddenly, she saw a shape, a silhouette in the fog.

"Hello?" she called.

"What do you see, Aein?" Lars asked.

"It's..." her breath caught in her throat.  A lump formed, threatening to spill tears from her eyes. "Cook Bolstad?" she called again.

"It's not him, Aein," Lars stated.

The sound of Lars's voice was unwelcome.  His words harsh and unkind in her ears.  She knew the man that the shadow belonged to.  It was Cook Bolstad.  It was him.  He was alive.

"Aein?" Cook Bolstad replied back.

She loosened her fingers from Lars, but he wouldn't let go.  She leaned towards Cook Bolstad, trying to tear away.  She thought about hacking Lars's arm off if he didn't let her run to her friend.  Cook Bolstad was there.  Right there.  He was dead, but now he was not and she didn't understand why Lars wouldn't let her go to him.

"It is not him!" Lars shouted.

"Let me go!" Aein screamed.

The flat of Lars's sword struck the side of her metal helmet.  The noise rang in her ears like a bell.  Immediately she stopped and realized the shadow was gone.  "Where is he?" she whispered.

"It was a phantom, Aein," Lars replied, squeezing her hand. 

The fog began to lift and Lars appeared.  There was so much understanding sadness in his eyes.  "It is just the swamp playing tricks on you."

At once, the longing to run towards a shadow seemed ridiculous.  The belief it was a living man whom she knew was dead made no sense. 

Lars did not move.  He brushed back a lock of her blonde hair and gently guided her back to reality.  "When I was here before, I saw these figures all the time.  Fallen friends.  Family that was gone.  I chased one once right into a bog.  If it had not been sunset and if I had not transformed into a werewolf just moments later, I would have died.  It is the swamp trying to kill you, Aein.  It is the swamp trying to ingest your power."

It became difficult for Aein to breathe.  "It was waiting for me.  It knew exactly what I needed in order to be lured away."  She looked at Lars.  "The swamp knew..."

Aein wet her lips, which were suddenly dry though her palms were sweaty, the panic of their situation beginning to build. 

Lars sheathed his sword and took Aein's axe from her limp hand, placing it into her holster for her.  He wrapped her up in his arms, resting his head against the top of hers.  "It always does," he said.  "And it will get worse."

"Lars, how will we survive these two months?" she asked, no longer able to pretend to be the brave soldier she was supposed to be.  "How?"

His body softened against hers.  "The good news is that with two people here, we can watch out for each other," said Lars, his voice rumbling deep inside of her.  "We can keep the swamp from overtaking us.  Be my eyes and ears, Aein.  And I'll be yours."

What would she have done without him?  Die, she realized.  She gazed up at her tall, gangly, red-haired friend, the man who had been there for her since the beginning.  How could she have left him in the swamp for so long?  How could she have left him to face all of this on his own, even if he had been the perpetrator of the horrors he had seen?  He survived it.  And now, he was helping her to survive.  If it hadn't been for him, if it hadn't been for his terrible ordeal, she would be dead now.  He let her cling to him until the fear faded.  He gave her this moment to rest.

And then she realized her vulnerability actually gave him strength, gave him something to think about besides his own fear.  She had grown up needing to be so hard, needing to protect herself after her parents died.  The only person who looked out for her was Cook Bolstad until she met Lars, and she had thought she needed to stay unbreakable.  But by allowing Lars to see her broken and support her, it didn't give him room to think about his own troubles.

Aein never thought of that before, that somehow allowing someone to give her strength gave them strength.

"Shh.  We will get through this," he murmured.  "Even if it is just you and me, we will get through this."

And Aein was happy to give him all the strength he needed.

T
hey returned to the campground and set about the task of making it habitable again, spending most of the day in silence.  Lars found a snake for them to eat, but game was scarce.  They cleared away the last ashes of the bodies, scattering them to the wind, and tried to wash the blood from the walls.

"It is stained," said Aein, pushing back the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.  "We'll have to replace the wood."

Lars came over and examined her handiwork.  "Or we could stain the wood to match."

"I am not opening a vein to paint a shack," Aein replied, earning a smile from him.

"A true soldier would give her blood, sweat, and tears for the needs of her people."

"You are not people."

"There are other people who will come here that will be people," he ribbed.

Aein couldn't help laughing.

"I was thinking more along the lines of finding some berries..." he said.

"Not berries..." Aein replied with a groan.

"...or something else which causes stains," added Lars, holding up his hands in protest.

Aein pursed her lips.  "It might work."

"It'll work better than trying to hack down a bunch of trees and rebuild every structure in this camp."

"You've got something better to do?" she asked.

"I can think of about twenty different things."

"Name one."

He squinted down at her good-natured challenge, and his eyes said that at least nineteen of those things would involve her.  But instead he said, "Eat that delicious snake I so bravely caught for us."

He walked back to the fire and turned the snake on its spit.  Aein came over.  "I have seen leather thongs with more meat on them."

"I should know better than to cook for the kitchen's favorite apprentice," retorted Lars. 

"You should," she replied, giving him a bump with her shoulder.

Suddenly, she stopped.  She realized all of the sounds in the swamp had stopped.  She reached towards her belt, realizing that she had left her axe by the shack.

"What is it?" said Lars.

The answer came from the forest as twenty men stepped into the camp, arrows and weapons drawn.

"I believe we might be 'it'," said the leader of the group.

It was soldiers from the Arnkell stronghold.  They wore the simple green and yellow leather armor of their old home.  Aein even recognized their leader, a lower soldier named Paske.  He was a good man when sober, but had a habit of smashing up taverns when he was not.  He used to spend as much time under disciplinary action as he did doing his actual job.  But his fists were solid and Lord Arknell always valued him when someone needed roughing up.  From the paint on his shoulder, it seems Paske had been elevated in rank since the war began.  His bald head was filthy with grime and sweat.  His entire company was gaunt and their eyes haunted.  She could tell they had not had enough to eat.  What better way to beat the drums of war than to tell your people all the food they could want was just one kingdom over?  With just a modest invasion, it could all be theirs for the taking.  Hunger drove people to desperate actions.

"Paske!  Friends from Lord Arnkell's stronghold!" Aein exclaimed, trying to overcome the tension with a friendly greeting.  But as she stepped forward to take the leader's hand, the entire group raised their weapons.

"We remember what you are, Aein," the man spat.  "And you, too, Lars.  Werewolf loving traitors."

From the weapons they carried and lack of supplies, it did not seem like they were here to take over the post.  "You have it all wrong," Aein replied, her mind working to diffuse the situation.  "Please, come share what food we have.  Sit and take advantage of our hospitality and let us talk."

"Hospitality?"  Paske turned to his friends and laughed.  It was an ugly sound.  "And why would a traitorous kitchen wench like you be so anxious to share her 'hospitality' with the people she left to die?  Why are you two in the wrong end of the swamp?" he asked.  "Did that general, oh what was his name... that fellow who was riding hell-for-leather to the Haidra kingdom just yesterday... Finn?  Did he leave you here to die?"

Fearfully, Aein locked eyes with Lars.  How did they know about Finn?  Did they capture him?  Did they kill him?

"...and now you hope you can wheedle your way back into our good graces by offering us a snake?" the man continued.

Lars stepped forward, holding out his hands in peace.  "I swear we are only here to help.  The border must always have two people guarding the line," he said.  "There are monsters coming through—"

Paske cut him off.  "The only monster we've seen is that bitch-queen sitting on the throne of the Haidra kingdom.  I use the term 'bitch' as a technical term."  He scratched his crotch and laughed.  "We know she turns into a dog every night."

"Whatever is happening between the Haidra kingdom and the Arnkell land is unimportant," said Aein, trying to calm everyone down.  "The only thing that is important is holding the swamp.  This border was left unprotected.  Terrible things are getting through." 

"Yeah, I'd say two terrible things got through all right and it is about time we took care of that."  The man barked at one of his men.  "Harness them."

"What?" asked Aein in confusion.

"We don't know if you're going to turn into bitey little dogs come sundown and I'd prefer not to take any chances, if you don't mind."

The other man stepped forward with two silver harnesses.  He threw them at Aein and Lars's feet.  Aein felt Lars shiver.  The pain from the silver when he shifted would keep him in check and make it impossible for him to do anything but sit very still once twilight came. 

"What are you going to do to us?" Aein asked.

"We're going to take you back to Lord Arnkell's stronghold and give you a chance to visit your old friend in a comfortable cell."

So they had caught Finn, Aein thought.  There wasn't anything to be done now.  Perhaps once night came and the guards went to sleep, Aein and Lars might have a chance to escape and get to the stronghold to free Finn.

"You're making a grave mistake," said Lars, reaching for the harness.

"Just put it on and I'll tell you if I've made a grave mistake," he replied.

Aein and Lars slipped their arms through the harnesses.  Aein turned her back to Lars so that he could buckle the silver buckle.  When he turned his back for her to do the same, she whispered a promise in his ear.  "I will get you out of this," she said.

"No talking!" shouted the man.  He was distracted by the gashes in the trees.  "What's this from?" he asked.

"That's what we were trying to tell you," said Aein.  "That's why we are here."

"Probably just a bear," Paske dismissed, but his fingers kept tracing the marks.

"There are no bears in the swamp," Lars replied.

"You don't know that," he said.  But, for all his faults, Paske was not an idiot.  Aein saw a flash across his face as he realized they might not have been lying outright.  He directed his men.  "Get a good look around.  Make sure there's nothing hiding in the shadows, would you?"  He then saw the stains on the wood.  He peered closer and squinted.  "This doesn't look natural."

"There were a lot of good men and women who died here," Aein informed him.

"Our people?"

"No, but good people nevertheless."

"How many?"

"All of them."

Paske hesitated, but then sniffed.  "Served them right." He balled his fists and took a wide stance.  "Teach them to be in places they shouldn't be.  Should have kept to their own portion of the swamp."

"We are just trying to help!" said Aein, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice.

Paske lifted his arm to hit her across the face with the back of his hand but stopped himself.  "Just give me a reason..." he threatened.  But Aein could tell the real reason he stopped was the possibility she was telling the truth.

The truth decided to come overhead with a screeching cry.

Before he could warn his party to arm themselves, a body struck the ground in front of them.  It was one of his soldiers.  Only his head had been turned on his neck.

"What fresh hell...?" Paske whispered, stepping forward.  He glared at Aein, looking for somewhere to aim his confusion and rage.  "What did this?"