The Dark of Twilight (Twilight Shifters Book 1) (8 page)

She stumbled forward, placing one exhausted foot before the other in a half-hearted jog.  If only she had thought to escape to the stables.  If only she had thought this through, but there had been no time.  Just survival.

She scanned the road ahead.  Perhaps she would happen upon some kind farmer who would help her.  Perhaps there would be an inn.  But she knew this northern road.  Besides the bandits who inhabited the forest, when wars broke out between the Haidra and Arnkell strongholds, this was the road their soldiers marched.  The peasantry had retreated long ago.  It was a dead land.  There was a single inn in between the two territories, reachable by a full day of walking.  It was now noon.  She should reach it before the sun went down... she would reach it before the sun went down...  The words became a mantra.  ...before the sun went down...

Where had she heard those words?  The phrase rang in her head over and over as her feet fell upon the ground.  It was Cook Bolstad, she realized.  He had said it in the kitchen.  Was he even alive?  Now she could not stop the wash of the memories, of the final moments they probably would ever have alive together.

The pain of that realization gripped her like a vice and squeezed her chest.  Her hand balled up into a fist and clenched her heart.  She had to trust he stayed in the larder, she told herself.  She had to trust that he was safe.  She picked up her pace.  The only way she could help him would be to get help.

But as her mind went through the images and memories of him, something else wriggled in.  A traitorous thought.  An unwanted, unbidden thought.  But once it was there... 

When she went down into the kitchen, he had been sitting there beside the fire without having made the next course.  He had not been rushing around.  He had not seemed worried about seeing to things.  He said the chaos would begin after the sun went down.  Was he just talking about the rhythm of the day? 

That unwanted voice in her head whispered otherwise. 

It was as if he knew... as if he knew there would be no need of his services.  How could that have been?  How could he have known?

Unless... she thought.  She did not wish to think it.  This man raised her.  He had taken her from the kitchen and sent her to training.  She owed him everything.  And yet... he knew something.  He knew something was coming from the swamp... or did he know something had already been brought back from the swamp?  A delicacy which was placed in the food of every man, woman, and child in the stronghold the night of the wedding feast?  Finn warned her a cook wielded that sort of power.  Aein stopped herself.  She told herself that her mind was just creating conspiracies because the truth was too horrible to accept.

She stopped and looked back towards the castle.  Could Cook Bolstad have lived through the carnage?  What if their very salvation, the one man who knew what was to happen, was still alive somewhere in the stronghold?  What if the one person who could stop all this died before she returned?

She looked north.  She had promised Gisla that she would continue on to her father's kingdom.  She was half a day's journey there, but there were at least two more days ahead of her.  She had promised she would come back with reinforcements...  but that same voice reminded her she promised Lars she would come back with reinforcements, too.  She was always going off to get someone else to save the day.  And they never did.

Could she live through that again?

She knew the answer was no.

And so, Aein turned back to the castle.

It would not matter if she came back with one-thousand soldiers if they had no idea how to cause the change to stop.  It would not matter if they slew every wolf in the stronghold.  Those wolves were people.  Her people. People she had sworn to protect.  If there was some way to prevent their mass slaughter, to somehow preserve their humanity.  She had a duty.

By the time she was within sight of the stronghold, the sun was dipping low in the sky.  She stayed behind the tree line in the hopes she would not be spotted.  It was silly, she realized.  The wolves probably already scented her.  They were wolves, after all.

In the distance, she could see the portcullis was still shut, the beasts impaled beneath its weight.  They were still cut in two and dead.  With the way they shook off injury, she was surprised they were not still wiggling beneath the spiked gate.  She saw wolves running along the ramparts high overhead.  But she did not see that any had escaped outside.

All she had to do was wait.  When the sun set, all of the wolves now trapped in the courtyard would change back into people, people who could let her in.  She tried not to think of all the others people trapped inside who would be shifting back with the darkness twilight brought.

It was then she heard the leaves behind her shuffle and she knew she was not alone.  Please let it be a squirrel or a rabbit, she whispered to herself.  But she knew it was not.

She did not even bother to look and see what was stalking her.  She dropped her sword and scrambled up the trunk of the closest tree.  She felt the jaws of the wolf clamp down onto her boot.  She felt its teeth bite through the hardened leather.  She wrapped her arms around the tree branch and kicked.  She connected, knocking the werewolf in the nose.  It made him release to try and grab her other foot.

But that moment of distraction was all she needed.  She swung her legs up.  The werewolf snapped at her, leaping into the air, his teeth inches from her back.  Her arrows fell out of her quiver and spilled onto the ground.

She tightened her grip and gradually was able to work her way around the branch until she was finally on top of it.  She paused, holding tight as she glanced up.  The werewolf was now trying to use the trunk of the tree to propel himself higher.  She had to climb.

Or she could allow herself to die, the voice inside her head whispered, and then she would not have to fight anymore.

The tip of the wolf's whiskers grazed her hand.  She could see in his eyes he had figured out how close that had been, too.  She silenced the voice.  She had made a promise to Princess Gisla she still needed to fulfill. 

She pushed herself up, balancing on the branch.  She gripped the trunk and looked for the next handhold.  The tree shook as the wolf hit it again.  And then the tree shook and the bough bent.  She hugged the trunk for dear life.  The wolf had reached the branch.  He was too heavy and it sagged beneath his weight.  He could not hold on and it went flying as he fell off.  Leaves and twigs sprayed her.  Her feet scrambled to push her higher.  The next branch was above her.  She reached for it.  It didn't look strong enough to hold her but it was her only choice.  The branch she was on bent once more, and this time, there was a great cracking sound as the wolf tore it from the tree, leaving her dangling in thin air.

Her fingertips slipped and she fell.

She slammed into the ground, her ankle twisting painfully.  Her sword was where she dropped it, far from reach.  She could not run.  She could not fight.  She cowered as the werewolf crept towards her, his teeth snapping and snarling the air. 

Closer he came.  Closer.

So this was how it ended for the two guards in the swamp, she thought.  This was how she left Lars to die.

And then, suddenly, the wolf stopped.

His eyes became cloudy.  His face became passive.  He fell on his side as if in great pain.  He whimpered and cried as he writhed on the ground.  Aein looked up at the sky, now painted with great swaths of pinks and gold and realized what was happening.

The figure began to fade until nothing was left but the body of a man, one who had kept her alive the first night.

"Finn?" she whispered, kneeling down beside him and gathering his head into her lap.

He writhed again in pain as the last of the wolf left and only the man remained.  He looked up at her.  His yellow eyes faded into blue.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"You're safe," she said, smoothing his forehead.  "I have you and you are safe."

"I had the most terrible dream," he said.  "I dreamt I was chasing people.  The entire dream was filled with fear and terror.  The images..."

She did not know if it would be cruel or kind to tell him the dream was not a dream.  Was it better to let these werewolves know what they were up to when the moment of shift happened?  Or better to let them live in blissful ignorance?  There was nothing they could do to change their actions, only live plagued by what they become when the change came each day.

He looked over at his arm and then sat up.  He unwrapped the bandage that had been placed upon the great bite wound earlier that day.  Beneath it, his skin was clear and soft without a mark.

"How did I heal?" he asked, staring at her with fear.  It was the first time she had ever seen him scared of anything.

Aein hung her head.  "I am afraid you have fallen prey to the curse of the stronghold."

Finn seemed to be at a loss for words, and then finally he spoke.  "Am I one of them?" he asked.  "Is that the reason I have not been able to remember what happened between sunset and sunrise today?"

Aein nodded.  "It is true."

Finn, for all his strength, for all of the power he held as a warrior, at that moment he seemed to crumble.  He jumped up and turned away so she could not see the tears which she knew were flooding down his face.  Instead, she only witnessed the rise and fall of his shaking shoulders and a few muffled sobs into his clenched fist.  She waited, allowing him the time to overcome his emotions.

He wiped his face and then turned back to her.  "Do you think that there are people who fell to me?  Did I kill my own people?" he asked.

Aein glanced up at the treetops around them, thinking of how close he came to killing her.  How he had chased she and Princess Gisla through the stronghold.  How they had barely escaped.  Her silence was the answer Finn was looking for.

"You believe I did."

"No!" she replied quickly.  "No.  I think...  I think you escaped the stronghold this morning before you had a chance.  You were out here..."

The silence hung between them again.  Finn looked up at the tree, at her sword, at her arrows upon the ground.  "...I was out here stalking you," he said, finishing her sentence.

"You did not know what you were doing," she assured him.  She was making nervous flapping motions as she searched for the right words.  "You could not stop yourself."

He came over and knelt beside her, taking her hands in his as the last rays of light faded from the sky.  He could not meet her eyes, he was so full of shame.  "I am sorry," he apologized.

She took her palm and let it rest it on his cheek, forcing him to look at her, just as he had forced her to live the night before.  "I would not have survived without you," she said, willing him to hear her, to understand her.  "And I need you now to help me stay alive."

"I..." 

"It is your duty," she said, throwing down the last card she had to play.

He rose and nodded.  He walked over and picked up her arrows and her sword.  She stood to meet him halfway, hobbling slightly on her turned ankle.  He caught the movement and she could see another wave of guilt wash over him.

"I just need to walk it out," she stated, unwilling to allow him any more self-pity.  She snatched the bundled shafts and dumped them into her quiver.

He turned the sword towards her, offering her the hilt.

"Last time you offered a lady a sword, it did not end well," she tried to joke.

Instead, it flared up more worry in his eyes.  "The Princess Gisla?"

"She is alive," said Aein, taking the sword gently.  "Alive, but... cursed."

He gritted his teeth and kicked the ground angrily before he asked, "How do you know for sure?"

"Do you remember last night, we were together in that chapel?"

"I remember," he said.

"She was the one who chased us."

"Oh," he said.  He rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes.  "But she lives?"

"She saved me," said Aein.  "She was safe in the stronghold the last I saw her.  She will have changed back to wolf with the sunset, though."

"And the others?  How many casualties?"

"I do not know.  When the sky changed, there was a moment where we thought those who were wolves were now people and it was safe.  I think many, like us, rushed to see who survived.  Only..."

"...only once they were together, out of hiding, they were in prime position to kill their most loved one."

Aein nodded. 

Of all the impressions she had of Finn, intelligence was the strongest.  She could almost see the moment the last puzzle piece fell into place.  The last piece was Aein.

"Do you change?" he asked her.

She shook her head.  "No."

"Why not?"

Aein stabbed the ground with the tip of her sword.  "I do not know.  I should have.  I..."

"What?" he asked, pressing her to continue her sentence.

He was watching her intently, scanning and cataloging every movement she made.  "The night I was on the border, there were two men who died.  They were torn apart, but I didn't hear it.  Only later, the fog surrounded me and I heard the sounds of a beast, some sort of a dog or a wolf.  I heard the men dying."

Finn laced his fingers together and placed them on top of his head.  He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the moon.  His voice was filled with incredulity.  "Are you telling me you heard monsters in the fog and that Lord Protector of yours did not alert every man, woman, and child something was coming?!"

Aein was taken aback by his fierceness.  "No.  Should he have?"

"YES!" said Finn.  "YES!  That is what you are supposed to do when... oh for the gods...  Oh, if I had only known!  I would have..."  He walked over to the tree.  It looked like he wanted to punch it, but he stopped himself and came back.  He calmed himself down and spoke very slowly.  "So, you heard monsters in the fog, and your Lord Protector did nothing.  What happened after that?"

She held up her hands.  "No!  No.  That's not..." she stopped herself and started again.  "There is something that happened and I'm just beginning to see it.  I don't know if it is anything, only..."