The Dark of Twilight (Twilight Shifters Book 1) (2 page)

Instead, Aein sighed.  "Ugh, I should talk to the commander about a new assignment."

Lars feinted a punch to her stomach.  She recoiled as she laughed. 

"Better sleep with one eye open, Young One," he said with a wink, going over to his horse to tighten the girth.  "Try not to get into the kind of trouble where you need me saving you right and left, would you?"

"Please," Aein replied.  "I think it is going to be your non-regulation butt which is going to need saving."

Lars glanced over his shoulder.  "So you were looking at my butt?"

"Shut up, Lars."

He laughed.  "Glad to be spending the next two months with you, Aein.  At least I know I got partnered with one of the best cooks in the entire battalion."

"I'm not cooking for you."

"I'll fight off two monsters for every dinner you make."

"Deal," she said.

The last preparations were made and the cart was hooked behind Lars's chestnut bay.  As they mounted and Aein settled into her saddle, her heart was full with all of the wonder and excitement ahead. 

They rode out of the stronghold, crossing the drawbridge, and into the countryside.  The farms became more sparse as they traveled until, finally, the land was uninhabited.  Though Lord Arnkell's stronghold was a two week march from the swamps, the people of the area had learned from experience to build far away from the eastland road. 

As the road entered the forest, Aein wiped her forehead.  The cool shade was a welcome change to the pounding sun, but the inability to see the horizon made her instinctively clutch her hilt.  The visceral realization of how solitary their journey was made Aein a bit nervous.

She turned to Lars, needing the sound of someone else's voice to defang the shadows.

"So, how many times have you been to the swamps?" she asked.

"Done my usual tours twice a year, just like everyone else," he replied, distracted as he peered into the bushes for danger.  "This'll be number three, though."

Aein took his cues and began scanning the forest just like he was.  She had heard some grumbling from the other guards that they were sending people too frequently to the swamps, but their ranks were shrinking and times were getting tough.  The troops Princess Gisla would be bringing with her when she married Lord Arnkell were needed.

"The road is so long, Cook Bolstad said he'd think they'd just have us stay longer rather than make us go back and forth," chattered Aein.

Lars rubbed his neck.  "It's worth it to come home."

"A month’s worth of travel back and forth instead of just staying for another two weeks?"

"You'll be singing a different tune, yellow bird, when your month in the swamp is up."

She glanced over at him, worriedly, but then dismissed him.  "You're just trying to scare me."

"You'll see," he said.  "Everybody does.  Nothing anyone can say can prepare you for it.  I'll mess with you about a lot of things, but not about the eastlands.  That swamp does something to you.  You think you're okay, but then one day... you realize you've been drifting in this fog.  It's like you can't remember what happiness is anymore.  You can't feel your own skin.  You forget what the sun looks like.  If you stay longer, you start seeing things.  Start hearing things that aren't there.  Start wondering what's the use in continuing on."

"Stop it," she said, brushing him off.  She pulled on the reins as her horse tried to stop for a snack of grass.  "You're making this up."

Lars shook his head ruefully.  "You'll see.  You'll see why they don't keep us there.  You won't be able to last any longer."

"I bet I last longer than you," replied Aein, getting her animal headed in the right direction again.

"I bet you go crazy twenty-four hours after we arrive."

"You're on," she said, giving him a smile.  But as he met her brown eyes this time, Lars did not smile back.

A
week and a half into their journey, the landscape began to change.  The forest was gone and now the trees just dotted the landscape here and there.  They had shifted from the pines of the north to species Aein had never seen before.  Their branches were covered with dripping leaves and hanging moss.  The earth had changed, too.  The firm ground disappeared into a soft bog and their road was now replaced by a path of split wooden logs.  Aein paid attention as they rode, looking for any rotten wood that needed to be replaced.  She had been told if anything came through the border, this path could be set on fire.  The soft earth might not prevent an invading horde, but it could help slow them down. 

Lars shielded his green eyes.  "We should reach the swamp soon.  There is a clearing just inside which is a good spot to rest the horses."

Aein stretched, the agony of being in the saddle all day still made her bones ache.  "I can hardly wait to be anywhere which doesn't involve an animal between my thighs."

"I get that often," said Lars with a wink.

She reached over and gave him a good natured shove.

After just this short time together, she could not imagine spending two months on tour with anyone else.  Lars was patient as she fumbled, laughing at her rather than offering pity, challenging her just enough to keep her growing.  As they grinned at each other here in the bog, she knew he would be important to her for the rest of her life.  There had been too many talks around the dark campfire, too many laughs over ruined meals, too many seeds of friendship planted.

"Come along, yellow bird," he said, tweaking a lock of her now filthy blonde hair.  "Keep moving."

As they got closer, the air became sticky and thick from the humidity.  The heat from the rising sun made Aein's leather armor and chainmail feel even hotter and more uncomfortable.  By noon, the swamp sat before them. A heron flew overhead and into the drowned forest. The ground disappeared beneath the water and the trees sat like giant fingers soaking in the murk.  A cloud moved across the sky, blocking out the sun.  Everything seemed cast in shades of gray, as if all the color had been sapped from the world.  A brown snake swam beside the planked road.  Aein pulled at her clothing as the sweat puddled in areas she did not even know she had.

"Is this the misery of the swamp that drives a person mad you were talking of?" she asked, wiping her brow.

Lars held up his hand and dismounted.  "We should walk the horses.  Keep them from getting overheated."

"No one seems concerned about keeping me from overheating."

"Are you sure you were trained to be a soldier?" Lars asked.  "Because right now..."

Aein suddenly stopped, her head swiveling over her shoulder.  "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" asked Lars, looking where she was focused.

Fingers of fog were coming through the forest, wrapping themselves around the trees, swallowing up the landscape wherever they touched.

"In the fog there," said Aein quietly.  She unsheathed her sword as she peered into the gray. 

Lars began laughing. "Put up your sword, Aein. 
That's
what I was talking about."

"What?" she asked sharply.

He pointed.  "The fog.  It does things to the mind.  I promise you that there is nothing there except confusion."

"But I heard something," she insisted.

"You and every sentry ever to walk the border.  The fog consumes sounds.  It consumes... thoughts.  I don't know how to describe it."  He stared at the fog.  "It'll reach us eventually.  We should try to keep ahead of it.  As little exposure to that stuff as possible is always a good idea."

Aein sheathed her sword, trusting her partner.  But she kept an eye on the grey mist.  As they stepped into the canopy of the swamp's trees, the fog seemed to follow them.  It never completely engulfed them.  Once or twice, it seemed to reach out and lick her heel, leaving her with a vague sense of disquiet and shivers up her back.

"There's the spot," said Lars, leading the way. 

In the middle of swamp, the log path ran beside a small island in the water.  The sun seemed to shine through.  The grass seemed greener.  There was a clearing surrounded by berry bushes.  Aein's horse seemed just as happy as she was for the break.  She unhitched the wagon so they could switch the load when they headed out.  She took her quiver and bow off her back and placed them safely on the cart.  She reached her arms over her head and then fell gratefully to the ground, letting her muscles unknot.

"Are you sure that we have to keep going?" she asked.  "We could just stay here for the rest of the day."

Lars pushed her with his toe.  "Come on, Aein.  You're scaring off the wildlife.  I was going to see if I could bag us a frog or something for dinner."

"Go!" Aein said, waving him away.  "Keep your frogs to yourself!  I'll be here... protecting our stuff from bandits..."

Lars headed through the bushes, threatening her over his shoulder.  "If I hit anything, I'm going to eat it all by myself!  You hear me?  All by myself!"

She smiled, enjoying the sensation of the sun on her face.  She let her head fall to the side and her glance fell upon the bushes.  At once she was on her feet.  She was almost certain she knew these berries.  They looked like the blueberries Cook Bolstad served in the summertime.  She picked one.  She nibbled the smallest bit of one to test to see if it left her mouth feeling numb or her stomach upset.  It didn't taste exactly the same, but it was good.  She waited a couple minutes, and when she didn't fall over dead, she ate a couple more.

"Don't eat those!" shouted Lars, coming back into the clearing with some game.

"They're fine!" she replied, holding them out to him to try.

"Don't come crawling to me tonight when your belly has cramped up and you feel like your insides might evacuate your body from either end."

"You're such a poet, Lars." 

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he said.  He pulled back from her, as if disgusted.  "Ugh.  Your teeth and tongue are stained purple."

"Come give us a kiss," Aein laughed, stretching her stained palms towards him and grinning wildly so he could get a good look at her teeth.

"Not for the wide world," he replied.  "You'll be vomiting before nightfall."

Aein took another handful and stored them in her pouch for later.  The birds seemed to have gotten to most of the bramble, but there was enough for an afternoon snack.  "You're going to be jealous when I'm perfectly fine and you didn't even try one."

"I'll risk it," he said.  He looked up at the sky.  "We should get moving again.  We need to reach the rendezvous before nightfall."

She shielded her eyes to get a good look at where the sun was when suddenly she shouted.  "Wait!  We have to stop for just a moment!"

"What is it?"

"Cook Bolstad asked me to gather him some ingredients.  And I just spotted what he was looking for."

"And what was he looking for?"

"Those!" she replied, pointing up at a cluster of mushrooms growing out of the bark of the tree.  They had black caps with tan flakes.  She was sure it was the same ones in the picture.  She walked over to the base of the tree.  The mushrooms were hanging just beneath the branch like little bats. 

"It's like the tree has armpit hair," Lars stated.

"Shut up," she replied.  "Want to give me a hand?"

Lars came over and laced his fingers together for her to stand in.  Her fingers found hold in the tree's rough and bumpy bark.  "I do not believe being your own personal step ladder was mentioned in border duties," he stated.

She was able to grab a hold of a thick branch and pull herself up.

"Those might go bad before you get them home," Lars pointed out.  "You could just leave them and we could pick them up on the way back."

"They might not be here when we come back," said Aein as she took the bag and her knife from her belt and began scraping.  "If I can gather him some rare mushrooms for the most important feast he will ever cook in his lifetime, well... it seems an easy way to make sure we get all the choice cuts at the dining table from here to eternity."

"You make sure to tell him I helped you!" Lars said, changing his tune.  "You wouldn't have even been able to reach them if I wasn't here."

"Yeah, yeah," Aein called back.  "I'll make sure he's made aware."  She dropped the bag and he caught it before it hit the ground.  By the time she had climbed down, he had pulled one of the mushrooms out and was nibbling it. 

"Put that back!" she shouted in a panic.

"What?  Just think if these are the most special mushrooms in the territory, we should at least get to taste test them or something."

Aein snatched it from his hand and thrust the mushroom back into the bag.  "Cook Bolstad said not to until he confirmed they were the right ones.  Wouldn't want to accidentally kill you."

"You're not even sure those are the right ones?"  Lars began wiping his tongue on the back of his hand.  "And you let me sit there licking that thing?"

"Double rations for me, my friend."

"Very funny," he replied, walking back over to the horse.

Aein put the bag into the wagon and secured it safely before mounting.  They continued on for what seemed like hours.  The fog surrounded them but did not cross onto the walkway.  Strange bird cries filled the air.  Loud insects hummed and darted across their path.  Frogs sang, their sound interrupted occasionally by a loud splash in the water.

And this was just day one, Aein thought.

Without a clear view of the sun, there was no way of gauging time's passage.  The only sign she had that the day might be at an end was when the air became cooler.

"So, this becomes easier, right?" Aein asked as a strange lizard slithered across the boards.  "You get used to it?"

"No," replied Lars.

The platform walkway ended on a large hill.  Aein was so concerned with the fog around them, she would not have even noticed it if her horse's footsteps had not changed.

"We're here," announced Lars.  He jumped off his horse and cupped his hand to his mouth.  "Johan?  Whalter?  Your relief has arrived!"  But there was no response.  Lars shook his head and led his horse to the middle of the camp, taking off his halter and saddle.  There were logs placed around a large fire pit.  Beyond the pit were several wooden shacks.  They looked just big enough to house a single person lying down.  "The last vestiges of civilization, Aein.  Take your pick, for tomorrow we sleep in our cart."