Scent of Salvation (Chronicles of Eorthe #1)

by Annie Nicholas

  Sorin sighed. “Home.” The word sounded so wistful. Without warning, he swung her around onto his back again and grunted as she resumed her death grip.

  “I wish you’d stop tossing me around.”

  “I’m alpha. I do as I please.” He gave her a hard look. “That might be the hardest lesson you’re going to have to learn.”

  She swallowed with difficulty. Sometimes it didn’t pay to be weak. Her whole life she’d focused on studying, not working out. Brains over brawn only applied in a modern world.

  The trip downhill went by in flashes of rocky slopes that transformed to brushes and eventually trees. Sorin was so attuned to his land he virtually soared over the ground. If they followed a path, she couldn’t see it. Through the trunks, she glimpsed the river. They followed as it curved to the right toward the mountain’s edge until they reached a massive, wooden gate that blocked the way into a canyon.

  Weathered, ancient doors sloped outward, making it a difficult climb and easy to defend. As they drew closer, Susan noticed every inch was carved. Faces of feral beasts covered one door and smiling, civil faces decorated the other. The detail was so lifelike, she ached to touch them. “Beautiful.”

  “My grandfather’s father spent his life making these doors. Every member of the pack at that time is on there.”

  “A little piece of history.”

  He paused by them. “They represent our duality.”

  “The yin and the yang.” Maybe their worlds weren’t so different after all.

  “What?”

  “My people have a philosophy about how contrary forces are interconnected and interdependent.” She hooked her fingers together. “The good and the bad make a whole.”

  “The feral and the civil? Interesting.”

  The doors opened outward, just enough for them to squeeze through before they closed again.

  Slipping off Sorin’s back, Susan glanced around the canyon. A single dirt avenue stretched in front of her. Caves lined the stone walls. No multiple staircases or balconies like the Payami den.

  Simple and clean, it reminded her of her home—the small, sparse apartment she’d kept. Like her home, this place was empty of people.

  Sorin meandered over as he pulled a shirt over his head. He’d shifted to his civil form and already wore a leather kilt. His hair matched the color of his fur, silver-gray and silky, but grew past his shoulders in tangles, almost to his hips. Firm jaw and a crooked nose, as if it had been broken a few times. He was smaller than the beast but still big enough to twist her into a pretzel and dip her in chocolate.

  The idea of him licking it off her sent a burning flush to her cheeks. She twisted away from him. “Where is everyone?” The silence in the canyon echoed with forgotten laughter. The contrast this den had to the life-filled Payami home sent cold dread into Susan’s stomach.

  Sorin pointed to the largest of the caves. “Most of my pack is in there.”

  Chapter Twelve

  What a horrid and exhausting day. Sorin took a deep breath and inhaled his pack’s scent, filling his lungs with the comforting smell. First the blue light, then the human female and finally confronting the Payami. His pack being the smallest of the six meant they did their best to maintain the impression they were stronger. Only the Apisi’s over-exaggerated feral reputation kept the other packs from trying to take over.

  The light faded, and darkness crept through the narrow, dead-end canyon, which his pack had made into a den ages ago.

  There should have been more than two warriors on the worn wooden gate, but the sickness attacked the strong as well as the weak.

  He walked along the main avenue between the canyon’s walls and gestured for Susan to follow.

  The human shuffled along as if her muscles were stiff. Her long hair, no longer pinned up, hung in tangles around her shoulders. Dirt smudged her white jacket and the tip of her nose. She gave him a weary smile. “Not going to toss me over your shoulder again?”

  The joke caught him off guard, and he barked out an echoing laugh. His pack mates didn’t tease him often. The old alpha was never approachable, and they’d learn hard lessons about humor. “Not anymore.”

  The quiet along the main avenue made his soul ache. Usually at this time of the day, females chased the pups to get bathed and into their beds, the young would flirt and compete for attention, some couples would seek out quieter rooms and the rest would set the day’s chores aside for music.

  He passed the now-empty rooms carved into the canyon’s sides until he entered the expanse of the pack room converted to take care of the sick. A large common bed had been set in the center—being close together as a pack helped the healing. Each time he entered the pack’s cavern, he did a quick headcount on the bed.

  On this return, two were missing. He searched the dark corners and saw the covered bodies. Guilt wrung him hard. Not long ago he’d been on the mountainside, laughing while these pack mates passed into the shadow.

  Susan stopped next to him. Her eyes were wide as they swept over the room. “It’s not like the Payami gather room.”

  No lush carpets decorated his den’s floors. What cushions and blankets they owned gave comfort to the ill. Empty bookshelves lined the back wall since his father had burned most of the books long ago, and their games were of the sporting variety instead of the board kind.

  She faced the bed. “There are so many.”

  “The first signs of sickness appeared twelve days ago.” Now, a once thriving pack lay days away from extinction. He and a few others had recovered quickly, but most still suffered. It tore him apart watching his people die.

  “About time you returned.” Lailanie knelt by the bed with a pup in her arms, wiping his brow with a cloth. “The last thing this pack needs is to lose their alpha.”

  The snap of her command irritated his feral side. Lailanie thought she’d be his mate someday. Being the most dominant female, she assumed the role that should be hers, except he didn’t love her. Not in the way he wanted. He’d witnessed his mother trapped in a loveless mating. It had destroyed her and left him wounded. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

  She still hadn’t glanced up as they approached her. All her attention was on the sick pup. “Peder has been beside himself with worry since you never returned from the Temple, speaking about blue lights and strange creatures falling from the sky. If I didn’t need his help so much I would have confined him to his room.”

  Ignoring her sharp tone, Sorin knelt next to her and touched the young one’s fevered forehead. “How are they?”

  “What do you think?” She glared at him as if she had the right to do it.

  He warned her with a low growl as he met her stare. Her frustrations made her forget her place in pack hierarchy, and he had to remind her gently.

  Lowering her gaze, as was appropriate, she dipped the cloth in a bowl of water and wrung it. “I can’t work fast enough to keep their fevers down. I’ve used all the blue flowers Peder returned with to make a tea. It helped the fever for a while but I’ve no more.” Her questioning gaze slid toward Susan. “Where have you been?”

  “It’s not any of your concern where your alpha spends his time, Lanie.” Taking a deep, calming breath, he blew off instinct before she forced him over the edge. Sometimes feral attack urges trickled into calmer civil logic.

  Lailanie ducked her head lower, chin to chest, and remained still. “Sorry.”

  He scrubbed his scalp with his fingertips. “It’s been a difficult time for everyone.”

  She nodded toward Susan. “Who’s that?”

  “I’m the strange creature that fell from the blue light.” Susan leaned forward, offering Lailanie her wrist to smell. The one he’d placed his mark on.

  Lailanie’s eyebrows shot up, and she stabbed him with such a ferocious glare he was surprised his flesh didn’t peel off his bones.

  Susan couldn’t have done a worse thing. She’d basically told Lailanie Sorin belonged to her. That would scorch the f
emale shifter’s ass and make her Susan’s enemy.

  Looping his fingers around Susan’s delicate wrist, he pulled her hand away from Lailanie before she bit it. “This is Susan. She’ll be staying with us and doesn’t understand our ways yet. Be patient. Susan, this is Lailanie.” It was the female shifter’s possessive nature that drove him away. She didn’t own his heart yet acted like she controlled it. Let the Dark Moon save him from females in general.

  Rubbing the spot on her wrist where his mark lay, Susan glanced from Lailanie to him. “I did something wrong again.”

  He shook his head. “It’s just a misunderstanding. We can discuss it later.”

  Susan squatted next to the limp pup. The concern on her face touched him. They weren’t even of the same species, and she worried. He was right to have brought her here.

  “Are you the healer?” she asked Lailanie.

  The female shifter shook her head, her focus back on the pup. “No, she passed two nights ago.” She sniffed. “I wish Kay were still alive. I’ve been through all her herbs, but only recognize a handful. I’m liable to poison the sick rather than cure them.”

  Sorin bowed his head. Kay had been their healer until she died of the illness. All her other knowledge went with her to the grave.

  “Did you see anything like the blue flowers in Kay’s stores?” He stroked the pup she held, wishing he could trade places with the weak babe.

  “No. We need to gather more.” She dropped the cloth into the bowl of water. A spray of cool water landed on his knee and left a clean spot on his dusty skin. She handed him the pup and rose on shaky legs. “I need some fresh air.” She weaved a little as she left the room.

  Sorin stared at the tiny male in his arms. He couldn’t be more than three winters old. Carrying him to the center of the pack bed, Sorin watched the other pups sleep. He set him gently on the cushions. “We all need rest.”

  He closed his eyes, mentally reaching out to his pack as only an alpha could. Some of the adults had weakened since yesterday, but all the pups remained strong enough. None of these young were sired by him, but in essence they belonged to him, just like everyone else. He poured what strength he could afford into those who were fading. The Apisi had occupied this narrow canyon for centuries. They would not die under his care, whatever the sacrifice. Packs stuck together no matter what.

  Odd how he couldn’t sense Susan like he did his pack. He could smell her and see her but there was no animal essence to her being. Even vampires had some presence he could sense with his keen, wolf awareness.

  Sounds of hurried footsteps drew him from the pack connection.

  Peder, the omega male who had accompanied him to the Temple yesterday, approached the bed carrying a small, cast iron pot. Steam rose from the opening. He jerked when his gaze met Sorin’s, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Alpha, you’re safe.” His gaze fell upon Susan, and his smile faded. “And you brought the human home.” He set the pot by the bed. From the smell, it was soup.

  Sorin’s stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since—since he couldn’t remember. “Is there more in the kitchen?”

  “Plenty.” The omega sat by the bed and spooned some broth into the closest shifter’s mouth. Peder kept his chin down but tossed Susan a few curious glances.

  “Susan will be staying with us. Find her a room once you’re done here. I’ll take her to have a meal in the kitchen first.”

  “Yes, Alpha.”

  One day he’d get Peder to use his name. His pack needed so much healing, and not just from this illness, but he could only save one shifter at a time. “You did well yesterday, Peder.”

  “I left you…” He set his spoon in the pot.

  “As I ordered you to do. Delivering the flowers to the pack couldn’t wait I tracked Susan through the damn forest. You did the right thing and I’m proud.”

  “If I’d stayed I could have helped.”

  “Ifs, ifs, ifs.” Susan rose to her feet and sighed. “If I hadn’t run I wouldn’t have met the lovely Chaska or her fists either. None of it matters now. Your alpha’s home.”

  Sorin nodded his appreciation to Susan. The omega needed to hear this from someone other than him. “And you brought home medicine that saved lives.” He squeezed Peder’s shoulder. “No apologies.”

  “I didn’t bring enough. We’re already out.”

  Weariness weighed upon his soul. He glanced at the shroud-covered bodies in the corner. First, he’d bury their dead.

  “I think I’ve seen similar flowers before.”

  Sorin’s sensitive hearing caught Peder’s whispered words. “Where?”

  “On the cliffs that overlook the Temple.”

  Sorin gave quiet thanks to the Goddess or whoever had listened to his prayers. “You’ll go in the morning and gather what you can carry.”

  “Me?” Peder’s head shot up. “Shouldn’t it be one of the hunters?”

  “You’re picking flowers, not going to war.” Sorin did his best to keep his annoyance from his voice. “The few remaining hunters need to guard the den.” He tried not to sound angry. “I have faith in you, Peder.”

  “Yes, Alpha.” There was no confidence in the reply though.

  He glanced at pretty Peder. As an omega, the young man tended to submit to anyone’s whims, so eager to please. Sorin had explained that he wouldn’t be punished if he denied someone, but it wasn’t in Peder’s nature.

  Most omegas stayed close to the den, tending the young and the household chores. Why would Peder know about the cliffs by the Temple all the way on the other side of the mountain pass?

  Sorin shook the thought from his head and gestured for Susan to follow him.

  Susan watched Sorin exit the pack room with an aching heart. The broad shoulders that had carried her for hours over a mountain drooped under his grief.

  She’d never seen anything so sad as that little boy he’d cradled in his big, rough hands. The sorrow swept off Sorin in waves so palpable it tore down any doubts she’d had of coming here.

  They needed help. She just wasn’t sure what she could offer. She hurried to catch up to him and took his hand, trying to offer some of her strength.

  The wind sent a dirt devil along the center of the empty avenue of the den-canyon. It spun under a set of wooden chairs, then by a tool basket lying on its side, the contents scattered on the dirt. The devil sped past a lone spear leaning against a dusty table, until the wind sent the old weapon clattering to the ground, the sharp sound a sacrilege in the hollow silence.

  A tomb gave more warmth.

  One slow step at a time, Susan managed to reach the entrance of what looked like a medieval kitchen.

  Lailanie, the stunning female of smoldering dark colors who seemed in charge of the sick, exited through the doorway and glared at Susan. Great—more shifter attitude. Susan wasn’t groveling to anyone again. It left a bad aftertaste on her self-respect. She glared right back.

  Hesitating by the doorway, Sorin waited for Lailanie to pass. “I’m sending Peder to find more flowers in the morning.”

  “Peder? Alone in the forest?” Lailanie’s hand fluttered to her throat.

  “Have faith. He knows where he’s going.” Sorin vanished into the room and Susan hurried after, not wanting to spend a second alone with the female shifter.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A cast iron pot simmered on the hearth carved into the mountainside. The rich, heady scent of stew was thick in the air and made Sorin’s mouth water.

  Dirty dishes were piled on most surfaces of the pack kitchen, and the fire had burned down to a few coals. Sorin offered Susan a stool, then tended the fire. With most so ill, routines fell apart. Everyone pitched in to fill the gaps but things got neglected.

  “When you told me your pack was sick, I hadn’t imagined it would be most of them.” She leaned forward on the table. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Pouring two bowls of stew, he took a quick glance at his little leech. “This is the pro
blem I need solving.”

  “I’m not a doctor—healer.” She massaged her temples as if trying to relieve a terrible headache. He could sympathize.

  He set a bowl in front of her, then sat across the table. “Can you help us?” Eating his meal in big spoonfuls, he watched as she picked at her food.

  “I don’t know.” She took a bite and her eyes sparkled. “This is good.” She chewed with a far-off expression. “Why can’t we ask another pack for a healer? I’m sure Kele would—”

  “Jump at the opportunity to help us.” He interrupted her train of thought. “Just as her father would jump at the opportunity to wipe my pack out.” He pointed outside. “My lands are desirable, not my people. Once word gets out we’re weak and vulnerable, we’re dead. If not by the Payami then some other pack will come.” If word spread of their state, one of the other packs would attack.

  It was in their nature.

  Susan sighed. “I might be able to help in some way. And I stress the might.” She scratched her head. “I’m not making any promises but I come from a place that understands the way nature works in small detail.”

  “What does that mean?” He sat, his stew forgotten and cold, listening to her crazy story of machines, other worlds and branches. What trees had to do with Susan’s magical travel, he couldn’t guess. “You come from another world that is Eorthe?” He couldn’t hide the incredulity in his voice. Subterfuge was never his strongest skill.

  “I know it’s difficult to believe but it is the truth.”

  Slow-burning frustration filled his gut. He needed a miracle and he brought home an insane stray. “What does it matter if it’s true or not? How does that help my people? You admitted to not being a healer.”

  Setting her utensil next to her bowl, she met his fury with an easy grace. Her calm made him burn hotter. “Not a healer but a scientist.”

  “What, by my hairy arse, does that mean?”

  “It means I’m smart, you jerk. Remember knocking Benic out and tossing me over your shoulder? That wasn’t my idea.” Her sharp tone snapped him from his angered state. No one had spoken to him like that since the night he’d killed his father.