I watch as he shifts, becoming a large troll. After tying the seaweed rope to the door, he hoists it over his midsection so to drag the thing while Harmony and I load Nahini and Aiden on to the sled.
I pick up my pack, glad to have it in my possession once more. Something about its reassuring weight on my shoulder makes me feel as though I can face anything.
The sun is fully up by the time we find a smooth enough path inland for the sled. The terrain shifts from sand to rocks and clay, though it turns greener as we travel with larger trees and lush grass. No sign of a road or cars anywhere. It’s nature, wholly unspoiled.
“Is Wardon dead?” I ask as we make our way up a rolling hill, the last of the sea breeze at our backs.
Though I meant the question for Harmony it is Bard who answers. “No. I can still feel the throb of the blood oath. Whatever Angrboda has done to him, she hasn’t ended him yet.”
“I want a crack at him first.” I say, with another worried glance at my people. “Stop over that next rise. Let’s try and get some water into them.”
Bard pauses beneath a leafy oak. I crouch beside the sled and open my backpack. Sure enough, my metal water bottles are secured right up top. I lift one out, take a small sip, then crouch beside Nahini.
After a bit of coaxing she swallows the water. I check her pulse again. Still too light and fast for my liking, but at least it’s no worse.
I turn to Aiden, still in wolf form. How best to get him to drink? It’s not as though I can roll him onto his back and pour the liquid in and we don’t have enough on hand for trial and error.
I decide to try waking him again. He’ll need food as well as water for a rapid recovery.
I put a hand on his head and call his name. Once. Twice.
A green eye stares up at me, no sign of recognition.
There is nothing human in that gaze. Only the wolf.
I don’t have time to get out of the way before he lunges at me, going right for my throat.
I GET AN ARM UP A SECOND before his big fangs can sink into my jugular. The thick robe tears like wet paper beneath his onslaught, the flesh beneath it shredding. I hear Harmony’s cry and the pounding of great feet as Bard charges for us.
“No!” I shout. “Stay back. He’ll kill you.”
“And he won’t kill you?” Bard asks, though he does cease his charge.
I don’t bother answering him, my entire focus is for the wolf. For it is the wolf now, with Aiden nowhere in sight.
“Hey,” I say to the creature before he can lunge again. “Remember me? You know me?”
The only answer is a growl, low in the back of his throat. No hint of recognition in his leaf green eyes.
I try to gather my wits enough to contact him mentally, but nothing happens. It’s like bouncing a tennis ball off a brick wall.
“I’m not the one who hurt you.” I tell him, keeping my voice soft, unthreatening. I do my best to hide my terror, though it isn’t easy. I’ve faced off with the wolf before, though that time he’d been wearing a human body. I’ve touched the wolf before too, with Aiden in control. But with him standing over me, teeth bared and no traces of the man in sight, I can fully appreciate why the Vikings feared wolves.
“Let me change into you,” Bard suggests. “Confuse him and lure him away.”
“No,” I answer, not looking away from Aiden’s hypnotic stare. “He’ll know the difference, in scent at least.”
His growl intensifies. He should have stood down by now, seen that we are not a threat, even if Aiden isn’t in control. I shift slightly and he snaps at me, those massive jaws clicking shut inches from my face. A warning. Last time, the wolf had backed down when I held his gaze, because it recognized me as its mate. What am I doing wrong?
Another mistake could mean death.
My brain whirls frantically. Aiden had been taken, imprisoned and collared. He’d scolded me last time the wolf had taken over about holding his stare. Said his wolf might interpret the act as a challenge to his dominance.
Quickly I lowered my lids. Okay, he gets to win the staring contest. What else?
Submission. Though it goes against every fiber in my being, I need to demonstrate my submission. So, he knows I won’t challenge him.
My mouth is dry and I hold my breath and stretch my neck out, trying not to think of his teeth shredding the vulnerable skin there, piercing my jugular until I bleed out on the ground. A small whimper escapes and it isn’t part of my act.
The massive black head moves closer, until his nose presses against my skin. He sniffs. Then backs away.
I let out a breath on a whoosh of air and slowly, sit up. The wolf—it’s almost impossible to think of him as Aiden after the close call—lopes off toward the trees.
“Are you hurt, my queen?” Bard moves forward, Harmony half a step behind him. “Your arm.”
“It’s not bad,” I lie. Blood soaks the sleeve of the robe, turning it a brownish red. Gingerly, I push the sleeve up and stare at the punctured flesh. It could have been so much worse. The wolf could have torn the limb free and unlike him, I wouldn’t regenerate. I’d felt the strength in that powerful body.
With the adrenaline fleeing my system in the wake of the attack, the pain increases. “Get me the water bottle and my pack.”
Harmony does and helps me clean out the wound, smear my arm with antiseptic ointment and wrap it with gauze pads and more purple vet wrap. It’s the same color as her skin.
A half hysterical laugh escapes. It’s either laugh or cry at this point.
“My queen?” Bard prompts.
“I’m fine.” My gaze fixes on the spot where the wolf vanished into the woods. Did I just set a dangerous predator loose on the local population?
“Should we go after him?” Harmony sounds dubious.
I want to. I just got him back and don’t like Aiden being out of my sight when he’s not himself. But even with him right in front of me, I couldn’t get through to him. If we chase him and he turns on us, I might not be able to stop the wolf from hurting someone. And Aiden would be the one to suffer for it. Slowly, I shake my head. “No. We need to keep going. Aiden will find me, when he can.”
If he can.
Lost
“Over the river and through the woods,” I grumble as I sit down beside the fire Harmony tends. “To grandmother’s house we go.”
“What’s that?” The seer asks, confusion in her gray eyes.
“Nothing. Just a song about taking a trip. The terrain today reminds me of it.”
We had indeed crossed a river and trekked through the woods. The scenery is picturesque, like something out of a storybook. Unfortunately, what with Nahini’s still being unconscious and Aiden’s disappearance, I’d been in no mood to appreciate it. My arm throbs with every heartbeat and I debate taking another pain killer. There are only two more in the first aid kit.
“Do you have any idea where we are? Either of you?” I raise my voice to include Bard in our conversation.
Harmony shakes her head but the performer shifts his attention from the pack.
“Vaguely. About two days ride from the border of King Soladin’s land. It’s getting on to harvest time there.” He sighs theatrically and adds. “I performed in his court during harvest a few years ago. It is a magical time, full of food and dancing and frivolity.”
“You know the other king?” I raise one eyebrow. Curiosity and apprehension fill me. “What’s he like? Will we be safe crossing into his territory?”
“Safer than we are staying in Wardon’s realm.” Bard assures me. He plucks an apple from my backpack and offers it to Harmony. She accepts with a small smile and he resumes his digging.
My stomach rumbles but I don’t make a move for my own dinner. I’m glad we stopped when we did. Night is creeping in, the shadows beneath the trees deepening and fuzzing around the edges as twilight gives way to true darkness.
There is no sign of the glowing green eyes I long to see, yet the wolf is out the
re, somewhere. Watching us, watching me. All the small hairs are up on the back of my neck. Again, I try to call out to him mentally and again, my thoughts rebound. It’s as though Aiden isn’t on the other end of the line anymore. What’s happening to him?
I wish I had some way of contacting his grandmother. The giantess, Laufey knows Aiden better than anyone. She might be able to devise a way for me to get through to him. But Underhill isn’t exactly known for stellar cell reception.
“Any idea where Freda might meet up with us?” I ask the seer.
Harmony shakes her head. “I can’t see decisions beyond the Veil.”
Of course not. That would be too helpful. I cast another glance at Nahini. Despite the crispness of the wind, sweat beads her forehead. She shifts restlessly, caught in the grip of a dream. I desperately crave her advice. Maybe it’s ridiculous to think she would do better in the same set of circumstances, but I can’t help imagining it.
Bard offers me a choice between a second apple and a protein bar. “Our supplies are running low. We should keep on the lookout for game or possibly a house where we might secure supplies.”
I nod and accept the bar, though I don’t offer comment. Other than the courts, many of the fey who dwell in Underhill are starving and will have nothing to spare for us.
Again, my eyes wander to the tree line. Is Aiden hunting out there? I could see his ribs even through the thick pelt of fur. He has a rapid metabolism and is always hungry, even if he’s just eaten an enormous meal.
Will he find food? Will he ever turn back into a man?
I harbor no doubt that the wolf can fend for himself. I’ve seen the survival instinct in those glowing irises. He will kill where and when he sees fit, leaving nothing but carnage in his wake. My arm throbs where he bit me, a painful reminder that the wolf in question can take care of business.
But the man... the one left to clean up, to live with the consequences of whatever Wardon’s trolls did to him. Aiden’s despair has led him down some dark paths. Can he come back from his imprisonment without help?
Neither will be as you remember them.
“You want to go after him, don’t you?” Bard’s voice is soft. He settles down across the fire from me, adding his lumpy troll silhouette to our flickering shadows.
I stand, feeling the pull of my wolf, like a magnet tugged to true north. “I think he needs me.”
“Should we wait?” Harmony sounds reluctant, as though I’m asking her not to take an offered treat. The seer has never been beyond the bounds of Wardon’s territory and her eagerness to explore is palpable.
I rest a hand on Nahini’s forehead. It’s cool now, no fever. I extract the remaining full bottle of water and two thirds of the protein bars from my pack and set them on the pallet beside her.
I look to Bard. “You know Soladin, you’ve been to his court before. Will he offer help to Nahini? Will you be safe in his lands?”
“Safer than you will, my queen.”
I glance back to the trees, then rise, collecting my backpack. “Okay. You should head for the border then. The Dead of the Hunt will protect you.”
A nod from Nightweaver in acknowledgment of my orders, but otherwise the phantoms hold their piece.
“With luck, Freda will create a crossing in your path, one you can’t miss and I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Safe journey. I will wish to hear all about it.” Bard gives me a nod.
Harmony’s purple face is grave, but I don’t ask, not really wanting to know what the future holds. Instead, I turn my back and head into the dark.
The thick leafy canopy of chestnut and pine swallows me up. A few feet in, I set my pack down and dig out the flashlight. The small white circle of light it casts highlights the thick bed of leaves on the forest floor. The scents of untouched nature, clean air tinged just a bit with wood, of natural decay and rich soil reminds me of home, of the farm.
My footsteps are slow, steady, careful to avoid jutting rocks or the roots that snake across my path. There is no birdsong of course, the darkness would see them all safely tucked up in their nests. But there are no other sounds either, not the hoot of owls or the flap of bat wings or even the droning buzz of mosquitos.
In fact, I have seen no signs of life since we left the coastline, not insect, animal or fey. That makes no sense. The soil is hearty and would yield incredible crops. Yet I didn’t see a single tilled field. If people are starving, why not take advantage of the natural resources?
The gurgle of a nearby stream warns me before I step ankle deep into the creek. Though I’ll have to boil the water before I can drink, to kill any parasites that might live within, at least I have something to refill my empty water bottle.
I haven’t gone far in the dark, maybe a mile from camp, though I can no longer see the light from their fire. After scraping a small pile of dried pine needles and collecting some sticks, I stoop to wash my face in the creek before filling my bottle.
The quiet is eerie and unsettling. I can survive out here. I’ve been camping a few times and while I’m never going to be the sort to live off the land, I can handle a few days of roughing it.
With my fire burning low, I rig a crude basket of greenwood sticks to place my newly filled bottle in then set it above the flame. One advantage of metal over plastic water bottles, I don’t need a separate container to boil the water.
With literally nothing to do but wait for water to boil, I turn and stretch my back and take stock. If I ration my haul, I have about three days’ worth of food in the bag. And if I don’t find Aiden by then? By daylight, I’ll scout along the trail for familiar looking nuts, berries or even mushrooms.
Of course, this is Underhill, the land of trickery and deception. What might be benign where I come from could be toxic here. It’s not like I have a guide to the wilds of the fey realm.
Aiden had been my guide before. And would be again if I can find him. If he wants to be found.
Not for the first time, I wonder what Wardon and his brutes did to my wolf. Torture of course, but of what sort? And why hadn’t Aiden’s wolf killed them all and escaped?
They must have drugged him. Maybe that collar had some sort of toxin that repressed his abilities. But the thing had been off for hours. Aiden’s magic should have returned.
Using my flashlight, I check and see that the water in my canteen has boiled, then kick damp dirt over the fire. No sense borrowing trouble. I will find Aiden and then I’ll find out exactly what needs to be done for him.
Through the Wolf’s Eyes
HUNGER. IT IS AN EVER-present thought. The churning need to feast on meat gnawing at him the way he would gnaw on a bone to get to the succulent marrow within. But there is no game in the woods, no delicious prey to sate his need. He wants to lie down. The lack of sustenance is making him weak. He pushes on, trotting through the woods at a steady lope.
He’s known hunger like this before. The wolf doesn’t interpret the passage of time. He simply is. A sensation is new or it is familiar and the hunger is familiar. He first woke with it centuries ago and feasted on the small game he’d been presented with.
Not game. The words are angry and come from the man within. The man who grieved and raged even as his hunger receded.
The wolf does not understand this creature. They share their flesh, two beings living as one, yet the man does not value life in the same way. He would have turned to ash and bones long ago if not for the wolf. He wanted to die, to fight the instinct. He intentionally starved the wolf to weaken him.
The man had left their mate in the time before, left her undefended. Their pup had died because of his foolishness. Did the creature have no instincts, no sense of protection? Only this recrimination and guilt. Useless, weak feelings that did nothing, changed nothing.
If the man stood in his path, the wolf would kill him and feast on his pink flesh. And the man would do the same, he has no doubt. He feels the fires of rage that well within the man. Sometimes directed at t
he wolf, sometimes at his own weak self. There is only one thing the two both value, one bit of common ground to share.
Our mate.
The image of her makes the man curl up, his thoughts disturbed. The wolf needs to find her, almost as much as he needs food. His to protect, his to provide for.
He hurt her earlier, he knows this though he feels no regret or remorse. She was too close, came upon him unaware when he was injured. Mates need to learn, to be taught if they were to survive. She has no claws, her teeth flat, blocky things. No built-in defenses that he could detect. Her flesh is weak and easy to tear.
Yet she is brave. She faced off against that thing that had collared him and had set him free. He admires her boldness, her loyalty even as he curses it. He’d set her down hard in warning. Her blood as sweet as any he’d ever tasted and fear of those who would take it from her had him in a lather. She must learn not to tangle with a creature that could kill her.
The man had howled in rage as her blood hit his tongue, demanding he get away, to leave her behind. And the wolf had gone. He needs the man’s cooperation. For to truly have her as his mate, he requires the man’s body. She is his but not of his kind, her hunter’s soul trapped within the pale pink flesh. He must use the other.
Unworthy. The man thinks at him, feelings of shame, of guilt making him retreat deeper. We are not worthy of her.
The wolf doesn’t understand. He will kill any prey she wishes and lay it at her feet. She need only point. Why would he be unworthy?
The man tries to explain, but the wolf cares not, the need for food blotting out the noise of this internal struggle.
He lifts his nose into the air and sniffs.
There is something, many miles off. In the opposite direction from his mate. She has followed him into the woods, he can scent her, but his temper is hot, the hunger sharpening it to a razor’s edge.
He will kill the prey, take the edge off his hunger, then drag it back and lay it at her feet. She will see he is worthy. And then perhaps the man can be coaxed forth to join with her, to bind her to him.
The Immortal Queen Page 20