Moon Rise (Twilight Shifters Book 2) (4 page)

"If we don't find a way to stay warmer, I think moving is going to be a moot point!" she replied.

Finn dismounted and walked by her side.  They leaned into the driving wind.  The horse slipped again and Aein wondered if they would have to walk all the way to the swamp. It seemed as if they were stumbling along for hours.  She could not stop her teeth from clacking together and her body violently shook from the cold.  She blew on her fingers to try and warm them. But as she did, she spotted a glimmer of something ahead.

"A light!" she said, lifting up her hand to block out the rain, trying to figure out if it was a lantern or a window.

Finn looked as relieved as Aein felt.  "Come on!  Let's see if it somewhere we might seek shelter."

"We should proceed with caution!" warned Aein.  She had to spit out the water which blew into her mouth. 

"The devil himself could be innkeeper and I would gladly sell my soul for a bed," he swore.

Aein looked back at Lars.  His tail hung between his legs as the water dripped off his fur.  She gave a loud whistle and his head perked up.  He trotted over, as if thrilled for any distraction from the misery. 

"I need you to go ahead and see what is causing that light," Aein directed.

The wolf gave a sneeze and then took off at a sprint.  Aein hoped he would keep his footing.  Though the wolves regenerated with each change, they could have a dog with a broken leg until sunrise, and that was not anything they needed in this storm.

Fortunately, Lars returned not five minutes later, dancing around with excitement.  He barked and raced back and forwards.

"I think we're in the clear," Aein said to Finn.

"You don't have to be able to speak dog to understand that," he laughed.  "Come along!  Warm beds await!"

The promise of somewhere sheltered from the rain was just what they needed.  Even the horses’ steps quickened.  The square of light became brighter and brighter.

"An inn!" sighed Aein with relief.  Lars let out a bark of agreement. 

It was a small, two-story, half-timbered building.  The paned glass washed the muddy road with the warm, golden firelight from inside.  A dozen travelers sat on long benches, boards heaped with food balanced on their legs.  A sign hung to the side of the door with a painting of a cart wheel.  There was a muddy path from the inn to a barn filled with bales of hay. They unsaddled their horses quickly and rubbed them down before braving the rain once more.  They were a motley crew as they entered. 

All eyes turned to the soldiers and the carousing became very still in case this appearance of the Queen's guard was a sign of trouble.

A bald, fat man with a dirty apron stepped forward, a wooden cup in his hand.  His mustache twitched as he spoke.  "May I help you?"

"We seek shelter," said Finn.

It was then that Lars entered the room.  The other guests recoiled, raising their weapons and preparing for attack.  The air filled with the smell of wet dog and fear.

Aein motioned with her hand for Lars to sit, and he did.  But instead of relieving the tension in the room, a wave of hostility and suspicion spread across it.

"He’s with you?" the innkeeper asked Finn.

"He is."

"He's not welcome here."

A single growl rose from Lars's throat.  Aein glared at him to get in line.  He was not helping the situation.

"In the name of Queen Gisla," said Finn, "he is, indeed, welcome."  He pulled out that same parchment which caused the gatekeeper to open the town gate.  The innkeeper took one look at the red seal and shut his mouth.  But Finn took a sack of money from his belt and placed it in the man's hand.  "She hopes this will ease any inconvenience."

The innkeeper wet his lower lip with his tongue, the lure of the money overcoming his discomfort.  "You all may stay down here in the central room.  I'll not have fleas in my beds."

"Too late!" shouted a man from the back.

At once, the tension dispelled and conversation returned to normal, but eyes still shifted towards them suspiciously.  Aein noticed two men slip out the back door.  There was something about them which caused the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle.

"I'll see to the horses," Aein whispered to Finn.  He gave an imperceptible nod before allowing a wide grin to spread across his face as he announced, "Drinks are on the queen tonight!  Open a cask for our new friends, innkeeper!"

The mood in the room shifted again to something more jovial.  Aein didn't stay to watch it.  She opened the door and stepped out, noting that Lars was with her.  She crept towards the stable, grateful Lars was there to serve as her lookout.  There were shadows and hidden corners her human eyes could not see in the night.  He was alert, but not tense, and she took that as a good sign. 

Inside the barn, the two men were saddling their mounts.  They left the door open, most likely to make a quick getaway.  Aein tiptoed in and hid behind a stack of hay.

"How did they find us?" one of the men said.  Aein wondered who found them and what caused them to worry about being found out.

"It is those helldogs," said the other.  "Lord Arnkell said they can track a man twenty leagues through a river.  They probably smelled us from the road and led those soldiers here."

Aein swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry at the mention of Lord Arnkell's name.  She strained to hear more.  They were talking low and the sound of their saddles and stirrups clanked over their words.

"If you hadn't gotten yourself seen there at the castle—"

"That wasn't my fault.  I don't know how that girl recognized me."

"You should have been more careful—"

"He'll want to know they're here. We have to get there before they do."

Aein pressed herself into the corner of the stall as the men walked their horses out.  One gave a nervous whinny, most likely smelling Lars.

"Stinks like a dog in here," said one of the men as he left.  Aein thought to herself he had no idea how close he had come.

What to do? she wondered.  Should she let Lars loose on them right now?  Go after them and question them?  Or hurry to the swamp to fortify their defenses around the berry bush?

She rushed out of the barn.  The men were disappearing down the road, swallowed by the torrential rain and darkness.  She turned to Lars.  "Wait here.  I'll be back."

She raced towards the inn and tried not to fling the door open.  Finn saw her come in and must have seen on her face that things were not right.  With a hearty laugh and a backslap, he got up from his seat, carrying his drink with him and sloshing most of it on the floor.  Aein knew his tricks.

She stayed next to the door, her back against the plaster wall.  He smiled, placing his hand beside her head, and leaned into her.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

He ran a strand of her hair through his fingers, drinking her in with is his blue eyes.  "To anyone looking at us, it appears I'm just a man talking to a beautiful woman the way that men and women talk when they have had too much to drink, as opposed to a commander receiving vital information from a member of his team."

The closeness of his body made her heart skip a beat.  She pressed her cheek against his to whisper in his ear, the stubble of his beard rough against her soft cheek.  "Two men.  Loyalists to Lord Arnkell, one of them was the spy.  They have gone to warn him of our location."

Finn ran his hand down her arm and she could not help the shiver which ran up her spine.  He interlaced his fingers in hers.  "Is Lars outside?"

She pulled her head back, her lips a breath away from his, and nodded.

Finn opened the door, still holding Aein's hand like lovers sneaking off.  Aein allowed him to lead her out into the stable.  As soon as they entered, Aein stepped away.

"Those two men on the road," Aein commanded Lars.  "Track them.  Take them down.  Do not allow them to reach their destination. "

The fur on Lars's back rose as a wildness came into his eyes.  Despite the sanity the berry brought, he was still a wolf after the sun went down and Aein had given him the freedom to do what he did best — hunt.

Without pause, he was gone, sliding into the darkness like a shadow. 

A half-hour passed, but Lars had still not returned.  Finn kept pacing to the door and back again.  Aein sat upon a pile of hay, clasping and unclasping her hands.

"Do you think he is all right?" she asked.

Finn ran his hand over the back of his neck and looked out into the night.  "Of course," he said.  "He cannot be killed except by silver or dismemberment."

"Except they know about werewolves," said Aein.  "I overheard them."

"He'll be fine," repeated Finn, almost more to himself than Aein.

"We should have gone with him..." she said.

"We would die in that storm."

"Details."

He gave a small chuckle and rubbed his eyes.  "What a day!"  He threw up his hands.  "We are utterly useless to him.  Let's get some sleep so at least someone is rested tomorrow."

He reached out to Aein to help her to her feet.  She chewed her lip as they walked back towards the inn, nervously glancing down the road, hoping Lars would suddenly appear.  The rain had slowed to a trickle.  Finn opened the door.  Most of the other guests were already settled into their makeshift beds.  The innkeeper jumped up from his stool and shut the door behind them, pulling in the latch.  "Just waiting until you got back to close up.  Wasn't sure if you'd be coming back in tonight."

"Just getting the horses bedded," replied Finn, giving the man a sly wink.

The innkeeper did not particularly care.  He motioned to the floor.  "Make yourself as comfortable as you can."  And then he was gone.

There were other travelers in the room settling in.  Most everyone had stripped down to their shifts to get their outer garments dry.  Tunics and leggings hung before the fire and on the backs of chairs.  Aein followed suit, stripping off her armor and chainmail and setting it to the side.  From her bag, she pulled out a jar of bear grease and rubbed it on the links, hoping it would keep the metal from rusting if it had not already begun.

Finn rolled his bed out next to the far wall.  He blocked it from prying eyes by placing a bench between him and the rest of the room, then draped it with his wet clothes.  The care he was taking gave Aein pause.  She realized he was worried about someone seeing him change into a werewolf when the sun rose.  Aein walked over and placed her bed beside his and climbed inside the blankets.  He raised an eyebrow.

"Just keeping the charade going," she whispered with a wink.

A slow smile crept across Finn's weathered face as he realized she was setting up a secondary line of defense, ready to shield him if necessary.  He tucked his feet inside his blankets and pulled the scratchy wool up to his chin.

Aein rested her head in the crook of her arm.  "Do you think he caught them?" she asked.

"I cannot imagine him not," said Finn softly.

"I hope he is safe."

The flickering firelight played across the shape of Finn's lips.  She thought back to that night so many months ago when they had shared a moment alone, when things had been soft and tender between them.  They had not had a moment together like that since, duty always coming between them, any moment interrupted by some task.

"I am glad you're here," whispered Aein.

"Me, too," he replied.  His eyes became distant.  "You two would have probably been fine on your own, but I had to make sure Queen Gisla..."

His voice trailed off and he did not complete the sentence.  Aein tried not to sigh.  He would always place the queen first.  Though the queen would have to marry for political reasons and there was no hope for any sort of future, especially with one being a wolf at night and one at day, Finn cared deeply for her. 

Still, Aein could not help but think back to that one night and wish she could close the distance between them.

Interrupting her own thoughts, Aein focused on the duty before them to distract herself. "What do you think Lord Arnkell has been doing all this time?"

"Raising followers?" Finn gave a small, powerless shrug.  "Preparing to finish the war he started?  This will not end until one of them is dead."

Aein knew as long as there was breath in his body, Lord Arnkell would fight.  She thought back to all the carnage in the stronghold the night he poisoned his people, the way he was willing to slaughter everyone in order to bring down Queen Gisla.  Aein's thoughts flickered to finding Cook Bolstad dying in his kitchen, the injuries he had sustained, the way this man she had sworn to protect had forced the only father she could remember to pick between her life and the life of the castle.  And Cook Bolstad had chosen that he would rather an entire stronghold die than sacrifice Aein.

"Let's make sure it is him," said Aein.

A
ein awoke to awareness that Finn was shifting.  Her eyes were open in a flash and fixed upon him, ready to hear any last minute instructions before he changed.  But it was too late.  He opened his mouth to speak just as his mouth became a muzzle.  Aein sighed and reached out, stroking his fur gently.  He gave her cheek a friendly lick.  The morning always came too soon.

She sat up and pushed back her bedding.  Every muscle in her body ached from riding.  The other people in the room were still fast asleep.  She instinctually felt like it was important no one noticed that Finn was missing.  Two bedrolls, one of them occupied by a wolf, would seem suspicious.  She rolled up the sheets and blankets and tied them together.  She checked on her garments.  They were dry.  She packed their belongings and opened the door, hoping to find Lars waiting outside.

Water dripped from the leaves and the ground was still muddy, but the rain had stopped.  At least their misery would be manageable as they traveled.  But a kernel of anxiety took root in her gut.  There was no sign of Lars.  She told herself he was probably waiting for them up the road and not to panic yet.

"Stay!" said the innkeeper coming down the stairs.  "I was on my way to cook breakfast."  He scanned the room.  "Where is your friend with the scar?" he asked.