Moon Rise (Twilight Shifters Book 2) (14 page)

"How?" she asked, the hopelessness of it all too much to bear.  "He is probably already dead."

Finn set his jaw.  "Have I ever lied to you, Aein?"

"No," she replied.

"Then trust me.  We will get him back."

She gazed in to his beautiful eyes, the eyes of this man who fought an entire castle to bring her to safety.  She raised her fingertips and touched the scar which ran across his face from that time he had saved her before.  It was one of the things she loved most about his face.

He lifted his mouth to hers.  He smelled of leather and himself.  His lips touched hers lightly, and then with more insistence as she kissed him back.  A warmth spread through her tired body, pushing aside the pain and aches and filling her with want and need.

And yet, despite wanting him, despite wanting to be here with him in this moment, she found herself placing her hands upon his strong, broad chest and pushing him away.  "I can't... Lars and I..."

She did not have to say more.  She could see it took every ounce of control he had, but he rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with the back of his hand.  He nodded in understanding.  "Of course," he said.  "You and Lars."

She reached out and took his hand, interlacing her fingers in his, realizing that she did not want to say no to this man.  She did not want to stop this person who had moved heaven and earth to save her.  "I made a promise..."

He smiled, but there was pain and heartbreak in that smile.  "Then you must keep it," he said.

They lay there together silently, hands entwined and gazing at the sky until the stars faded and the sun came up, both thinking about how sometimes the world could go so terribly wrong.

W
hen the shift came, Finn looked at Aein one last time before his hand disappeared and his face disappeared and all that was left was his eyes gazing into her soul, wanting her but knowing there was nothing she could give. 

She turned onto her side and pushed herself to her hands and knees.  Their brief rest was not enough, but who knew how quickly the Arnkell stronghold would mobilize and send people after them.  Who knew if the time they wasted on a nap might cost Lars his life.

She tried to stand, but her legs buckled and collapsed under her.  She punched the ground in frustration. 

She felt a furry head work its way between her arms.  She looked down, confused by what was happening.  Finn wiggled until he was beneath her and then he stood, lifting her body with his.  She leaned against his powerful shoulders, letting him support her upper body as her legs tried to follow.  He walked her over to the horse, who was still saddled from their earlier ride.  She rested her hand upon the stirrup and wondered how she would ever be able to climb up.  She could see Finn realize this was something they should have addressed before the shift.

But the sight of his worry, of him taking the responsibility for this moment of difficulty, fueled her with strength.  She hauled herself into a standing position, clinging to the saddle and praying the horse would not walk away.  It seemed like the animal understood she was in dire need of gentle understanding.  He stood patiently as she tried to figure out what to do next.

It was Finn, again, who came up with a plan.  He nosed her foot.  Mystified, she lifted it and he stepped beneath her, volunteering his back as a step. She straightened her leg and he stood, bringing her high enough that she was able to scramble over.  She clung to the horse's neck, terrified she might not have the strength to hold on.  She managed not to fall off that day. 

As the miles and hours and days went by, Aein began to recover her strength.  The access to food and water did more for her than almost everything else.  She and Finn talked no more of what had passed between them.  He insisted they travel by day when he could run alongside in wolf form, saying it would be easier on the horse to have only one rider, though they walked the horse together after the sun went down.

Finn was nothing but gentle and helpful.  Their conversation was polite, but distant, and disintegrated into small talk and idle chat.  He hid behind his mask of respect and duty, and the mystery of what could have been between them, what was once between them, made Aein's heart break a little.

But the drive to save Lars pushed them on and kept Aein from trying to heal the rift.  If he was alive, this detachment would be for the best.  And if he was dead, there would be other things to worry about.

They reached the marsh surrounding the swamp in less than a week and a half, faster than Aein had ever made the journey on her own.  The wooden pier through the bog waited for them, but the sun was still high in the sky.

Aein dismounted and bent to stretch her legs.  Finn waited for her patiently.  She shielded her eyes with her hand.  "Finn?" she said.  "I don't want to make this rescue with you as a wolf."  The thought of entering the forest and facing the fog on her own was terrifying.  The thought of fighting a monster when she could barely run was even worse.  "If Lars is alive, he'll be human now and there is no telling how badly they've hurt him.  If we wait to rescue him after the shift, he'll have healed.  He'll be stronger." 

Finn regarded her for a few minutes more and then sneezed.  She hoped that was his way of saying he would go along with her plan.

"It will also be dark," she continued, "and it will be easier for us to hide.  This is the only road in or out.  They probably have it well guarded."

Finn sneezed, but this time twice.

"Plus, it will be good if we're well rested before we go into a battle..." she finished lamely.  Despite all of the good reasons to delay, she wondered if waiting to rush into swamp would mean they missed a crucial moment to save Lars.  She could not tell if Finn agreed with her wholeheartedly or not, but he did not block her way as she led the horse into the brush and unrolled the bed.  She took off the saddle and left the horse to graze freely.  Finn sat on his haunches and watched unblinking.  She crawled into the blanket and rested her head in her arm.

"So... you have first watch?" she asked him.  She pointed towards the road.  "You're supposed to look out there for danger, not stare at me."

But he did not move.  She wondered what was going on.  She closed her eyes, willing herself to get what sleep she could before twilight, when she felt soft footsteps tentatively creep beside her.  She was so scared of frightening him off she didn't even breathe.  She just waited, pretending to rest.  And then slowly, gently, Finn lowered himself beside her, pressing his body against her belly so that she was spooning him tight.  She inched her arm across him, burying her face in his dark fur.  He released a heavy sigh.  She realized this would be the last time they ever had this moment.  No matter how things unfolded in the next few hours, their lives would change forever. 

She woke as the sun set, feeling Finn's shift.  Gently, he rose from the bed, trying not to disturb her, and she fought the urge to call him back.  Aein could not help a twinge of sadness.  She uncurled and sat up, acting as if she hadn't been awake all along.  "Is it time?" she asked.

Finn stared at her in silence for what seemed to be an eternity.  The thoughts running across his face were unfathomable.  But he just nodded and said, "Yes."

Aein rose and went to put the bedroll away.  Finn stopped her.  "Leave it all here," he directed.  "We need stealth, not speed.  We'll go as far as we can on the road, past the bog, and then wade into the swamp through the trees."

Aein fought a shiver, thinking of the creatures who lurked off the path.  "That's a death sentence."

"For those who have not been in the swamp," said Finn as he removed his armor and hid it beneath some brush.  "But not you.  You know how to survive."

He said it as a statement of fact.  There was no hint that it was false praise to buoy Aein's spirit.  It rang with as much truth as if he had said she had two arms and two legs.  And Aein realized he was right.  She did know how to survive.  She faced the fog and had not gone mad.  She fought a cyclops and a harpy and werewolves and survived.  She had lived when everyone else around her died.

"Those soldiers riding with Lord Arnkell," continued Finn, stripping off his chainmail, "some of them may have been to the border before, but my bet is that most of them have not.  If they had, they would have understood why holding the line was so important."

Aein nodded, beginning to see his plan.  "They'll think we're creatures of the fog."

"They have no idea you escaped," Finn pointed out.  "No reason to think you should be here.  They'll think you're a ghost."  He gave her a wink.  "What do you say we give them a good haunting?"

The smile slowly crept across Aein's face.  "I hope we frighten them to death."

A
ein held Cook Bolstad's book and ran her hand across its cover.  She opened it, and the paper released the smells of the kitchen, the smell of him.  Fry oils and old onions and hearth smoke, scents that couldn't wash off in a basin.  Cook Bolstad had flipped through each loved page.  She could even see places where his fingers left a smudge or a stain.  She had no idea what the book said, but it was too precious to lose.  It was the only thing she had of his, this man who raised her.  She wrapped it in one of Finn's less stained shirts, and tucked it into the crook of a tree for safe keeping.  As soon as she found someone who could read, she would make that person go through it with her page-by-page and explain every wavy, black line and picture.

Aein tucked her blonde hair into the back of her shirt and went off to find Finn.  There was a half-moon on the rise and it lit the land just enough to see.  Finn was kneeling on the planked road, smearing mud from the bog all over himself.  There were enough frogs singing that Aein knew they could speak in hushed tones without being overheard, but Finn said nothing when she sat next to him.  He just lifted a handful of the sludge and wiped it over her hair and skin.  Wordlessly, he slid a silver dagger over to her, keeping the sword for himself.

And then he pushed himself up from the road with his knuckles and ran.

On tiptoe, he tore off down the pier, keeping his body in a half-crouch.  Aein chased after him, her lungs burning.  She dare not breathe heavily.  She prayed she would not trip on the planks.  She just kept her eyes on Finn and tried to keep up. 

He held up his fist and slowed to a creep.

The swamp was directly ahead of them.  The branches of the sunken trees looked like claws.  The bog had given way to the algae covered water.

But coming out of the swamp was the sound of clashing metal and terrified cries.  Aein gulped, wondering what had attacked and who was on the defensive.  But Finn did not stop.  Instead, he watched the entrance to the swamp intently as he lowered himself off the side of the road.  He did not look back to see if Aein followed.  Either she was there or she was not.  Aein quietly sat and put her feet in.  The water was warm and it felt like bathing in old stew.  She tried not to flinch as something brushed past her leg, telling herself it was just a branch, knowing full well that it was not.  The water came up to her chest before her feet touched the bottom. 

They waded forward, trying to move without disturbing the surface.  Aein silently scooped away the algae as it piled against her.  As they approached the finger-like roots of the mangroves, the noise of the battle became louder and it continued to grow the deeper they went into the swamp. 

Aein was grateful that Finn kept the wooden path within sight of the road, but even more grateful that they had not taken it.  Through the branches, Aein saw five soldiers illuminated by torchlight.  They were waving the fire at a monster with six legs who stood at least ten-feet tall.  Aein froze in fear.  His torso was that of a man, his body that of a scorpion.  His name was something told late at night around the hearth to scare small children - a girtablilu.  Aein remembered the folk stories.  This creature was said to open the doors to the land of darkness.  Aein tried to remember how he could be defeated when, with his great pincer claw, the girtablilu cut one of the men in half.

Finn wrapped his hand over her mouth, smothering the scream in her throat. The urge to attack the monster blinded her, tearing through her mind as the most important thing to do.  But Finn held her there in silence.  He whispered in her ear, "They are distracted.  This is what we need to free Lars."

She breathed, forcing herself to think through the primitive battle-lust.  It would get her killed.  She needed to hold on to it and use it for Lars.  She nodded her head in agreement and he slowly removed his hand. 

Quietly, they continued on, following the planked road but staying in the dark shadows.  Firelight flickered in front of them once again and Aein was horrified to see where it was coming from. 

"They are in the clearing," she hissed.  "How could Lars have led them to the clearing?"

Through the trees, she could see Lars staked in the center of the camp like a guard dog outside a shop.  He wore the silver harness and his skin wept from bloody welts beneath it.  His great head rested between his paws; his eyes were faded and glassy. 

"Lars!" breathed Aein, hoping no one else would hear them.  But in the heat of the battle going on, she thought they were safe.

His ears pricked up, as if unable to believe they had heard the sound they just heard.

"LARS!" she whispered louder.

He stood up, staring at them intently.

"Don't give us away, you fool!" hissed Finn.

Lars immediately lay down again.  The only sign that something was going on was the tenseness in his body and the way his wolfish eyebrows flickered this way and that.

Aein and Finn crawled out of the water and into the clearing.  Aein wanted to cry.  The place was ruined.  The grass was trampled to mud.  Waste was thrown around the edges.  The peace that had inhabited it seemed chased away.  She cast her eyes towards the bush, unsure if the branches were withered or if it was just that it was still out of season.  Surely after all this time there should have been a leaf or a bit of new growth.