Searching the Darkness (Erythleh Chronicles Book 2)

by Catherine Johnson

  "So, I gain a family in strife, something unstable, something that cannot last."

  "I can promise you, Elthrinn, you will always have my mother. When I said that she won't let you go without a fight, I meant it."

  Elthrinn remained unconvinced. "You wolves have discovered the secret of immortality then?"

  "No. But she will consider you a daughter until the day she dies."

  It seemed that all Elthrinn's fears were eager to be spoken, against any better judgement. "And you? Erkas warned me that you were... inconstant."

  Gorren let out something like a snarl, and for a moment, Elthrinn was frightened. As he spoke, she realised it was frustration rather than anger, and it was not entirely directed at her, although she was in its path. "Erkas does not know me, and I am not the man I once was, despite what my father chooses to believe. Are you the girl you were years ago?"

  Elthrinn thought about that confused and frightened twelve year old, so terrified at not knowing which bed she was to sleep in on the night of her father's funeral, so relieved to have someone to take care of her. She was not that person now; she could take care of herself, whatever that would mean.

  "No."

  "Then please, allow me the same latitude to grow and change. This may not be a situation that either of us would have chosen, but I intend to be a faithful husband."

  His words, and the intensity with which they were spoken, stirred up many images that Elthrinn found too overwhelming, too frightening, too confusing to contemplate. She wanted the conversation to end. She liked talking with Gorren; they could speak equally, he didn't ridicule her for her age or ignorance, and when he wasn't angry he was easy to talk to, but she needed this topic to be done with.

  Elthrinn took a deep breath, and prepared to turn their conversation completely about-face.

  "What do you do, when you're not being a wolf?"

  Gorren blinked several times. His eyes narrowed, and she wondered if he was angered at his sincerity being dismissed. She wasn't dismissing it, she appreciated it, but she couldn't comprehend it. He still hadn't regained his earlier friendliness when he answered.

  "I'm a soldier."

  It was possible that there wasn't any other profession that he could have named that could have been worse, except maybe if he was used for target practice by the army. He must have seen the discomfort that his answer caused her.

  "What?" His tone was sharp and demanding.

  "That is a dangerous occupation."

  Comprehension lit his features. "Life is a dangerous occupation. One might be killed farming, or fishing, as easily as fighting."

  "Does Dorvek fight many wars?"

  "There are constant battles against the trolls of Heethl, our northern neighbours. They seek to encroach on our borders with tiresome regularity."

  "Which rather drastically increases the chances of you being killed in battle, what with you being a soldier, and not a farmer, or a fisherman."

  Gorren huffed out a breath. "Now you're being deliberately obtuse. I will not keep you here or anywhere against your will, Elthrinn. It goes against everything that I am to do so. I wasn't lying when I said I'd help you find a way to escape if that's what you wanted."

  Elthrinn knew that she had to ease his concerns on that point. "You can rest easy, Gorren. It's not you that's keeping me here. I have to do this. Erkas threatened to kill everyone in the temple, to torture them first, to torture Serwren and her son, Ulli. I have to stay here."

  Her words did not have the desired effect. Gorren was still riled. "And what manner of man is this Erkas that he should promise such things? Why? And you believe that he would carry such threats out?"

  Thinking of Erkas made Elthrinn shudder; even though the rays of the sun were shining down on her, the mention of Erkas cast a shadow on the afternoon. "He's the very definition of evil. I don't know why, any more than you do."

  Their time together was spoiled. She'd been enjoying herself, up to the point that the conversation had delved into grim matters. She couldn't look Gorren in the face, she couldn't stand the animosity that rolled off him. It may not have been meant for her, but the target was not there to brave the scalding wash. "I think I want to go back now. Can we?"

  Her request only seemed to irritate Gorren more, but he jumped from the rock, and went to catch the horse without argument. Elthrinn clambered down from the rock they'd been sitting on, and back up the one that he'd initially set her on when they had arrived. Gorren was already in the saddle when he guided the horse over to her. He leaned over, caught her torso in both hands, and lifted her into his lap like she weighed no more than a child.

  Gorren did not speak as he turned the horse back into the trees, back towards Cranak. It was an awkward position to be in, for many reasons. Elthrinn tried to hold herself steady, away from his body; she didn't want to increase his irritation by slouching against him.

  Before they had reached the edge of the trees, before they had emerged onto the shores of that beautifully peaceful lake, Gorren released one hand from the reins, and curled it around Elthrinn's shoulders. He pulled until she was leaning against his chest. It was a solid chest, much more densely muscled than she would have credited given the leanness of his frame.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered against her hair. His lips moved over the strands in a way that made her want to shudder, or shiver. "None of this is your fault. I shouldn't take my aggravation out on you."

  By way of response, Elthrinn tried to relax. It seemed childish to continue holding herself stiffly as if he were a snake about to strike, or a wolf about to bite. She thought she was imagining things, she must have been, but she could have sworn that he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She didn't seek confirmation; she wasn't sure she wanted the answer.

  There was something infinitely comforting about the steady, rolling gait of the horse, and the immovable wall of Gorren's chest. Elthrinn was almost lulled to sleep, at least until she heard the calls and shouts of farmers as they began to approach the town. She tried to sit up, but Gorren's arm returned to her shoulders, and held her in place. Rather than be stared at, she buried her face in the soft cloth of his shirt and waistcoat. This time she hadn't imagined it, he had definitely kissed the top of her head. She wondered if it was just for show, for the entertainment of the people that they passed.

  ~o0o~

  The evening meal had passed in halting attempts at conversation and stilted silences. Fortunately, Elthrinn thought, the family did not use the great hall for their personal meals. There was a smaller dining room, more suited to the size of their group. Gorren had shown her where she needed to go, before he'd returned her to her room, but Rehan had come to collect her anyway. Elthrinn was grateful for all the assistance, but she chaffed to be able to stand on her own two feet.

  At one point during the meal, Rehan, who had been supporting the conversation almost entirely on her own, with some help from Gorren and Elthrinn's own short responses, had mentioned that she would steal Elthrinn away the next day to discuss arrangements for the wedding. King Dorll's disparaging snort had contended with Gorren's barely coherent interjection. Rehan had agreed, with a confused smile, that she probably wouldn't need Elthrinn for the whole day.

  The following morning, Rehan had spirited Elthrinn away to a part of the hall that she hadn't yet seen, Rehan's private chamber. At first, Rehan had simply insisted that they sit and drink tea. Elthrinn had been comfortable, a touch perplexed, but comfortable, until Rehan had brought out parchment and a quill pen, and had loosed a hundred and one questions at Elthrinn.

  When she had eventually managed to engage her brain with Rehan's intent, Elthrinn had realised that Rehan was seeking her input on the wedding arrangements. At that point she had requested more tea. Having resigned herself to the life of a priestess, and having never considered marriage before that point, Elthrinn had no idea how she wanted the ceremony, and the celebrations that she would be forced to endure, to progress. She had no idea of the traditio
ns of the country she was in, or the protocols of their royal family.

  Rehan had been understanding, graciously so. Rather than forcing her own views on Elthrinn, the queen had suggested options, whilst weaving in the necessities. By the time they were finished, Elthrinn was able to comprehend that her wedding would be as much of her own design as it could be. She was glad now that Gorren had demanded to occupy some of her day; she wanted to seek his opinions on some of the arrangements. If she was to be allowed to influence the happening, he should have a say, too.

  Rehan had set their planning aside to ensure that Elthrinn was able to eat a midday meal before Gorren called for her. Although neither lady had finished eating by the time that Gorren knocked at the door, he did not hurry them. Rather, having been granted admittance and instructed to take a seat by his mother, he had allowed them to complete their meal at their leisure. Rehan had been the one to inform him that he would be married on the night of the next full moon. Elthrinn had taken the opportunity, bolstered by Rehan's presence, to illustrate their plans for Gorren, and to seek his input. He had been grateful for her consideration, but there were few of their decisions that he disagreed with.

  Elthrinn's mind was still buzzing with plans and anxieties when she found herself in the corridor, face to face, or rather, face to chest, with Gorren.

  She quite liked the common clothes of Dorvek. She liked that the women were afford coverage and comfort. There always seemed to be so much material involved in women's clothing in Felthiss, there were scarves and full skirts, dresses were often full length and usually fastened in some complicated way. She liked that the men appeared more tailored than in her home country. The cotton shirts and leather jerkins of Felthiss were designed to be layered according to the requirements of the temperatures, and often had a casual air. In Dorvek, the men all seemed to wear fitted trews and high boots to keep their legs warm. they wore shirts that were similar in style to those of Felthiss, but with the addition of waistcoats and sometimes short scarves wound round the neck. She had noted that most men, unless they were engaged in physical work, wore a style of coat that was tailored to the upper body, but fell freely from the hips to the knees or calves. She now found herself confronted by the buttons of Gorren's waistcoat, which Elthrinn suspected might be made of polished bone.

  She didn't register the movement, until she felt the gentle brush of his fingers as he swept a loose lock of her hair behind her ear. She'd started the day with it bound in a braid, but had been tugging at it during her discussions with Rehan, and now it was mostly undone. She dipped her head at his touch, unsure as to what it meant, or as to how she felt about it.

  Gorren's fingertips lingered over the sensitive skin of her neck, but he pulled them back before she could shy away.

  "There are some people I need for you to meet."

  "Are there many of them?" Elthrinn asked.

  "Just three."

  "And you need me to meet them?" Elthrinn confirmed.

  "Yes, need. They're my friends, my brothers, more my kin than Noridan. You're worried about me fighting? These three men are the reason I will always return to you alive."

  "Very well." Elthrinn took a deep breath. "Lead the way."

  "We'll find them in the tavern. That is, unless you mind..."

  Elthrinn could have stamped her foot in petulance, but she settled for waving her hand. "I may have been a priestess, but that doesn't mean that I'm a child. I won't be scandalised by people imbibing alcohol."

  Gorren chuckled, "Very well."

  He kept his hand on the small of her back as they walked through the town. They attracted plenty of attention, many people stopped to stare, some even paused to whisper behind raised hands, but Elthrinn, encouraged by Gorren's stoicism, ignored them.

  The tavern, she didn't catch the name of the establishment from the sign that swung on rusty, creaking hinges over the door, was a larger building than she'd been expecting. It was not as large as the hall, only apparently the size of an average Dorvern cottage, but it extended to two stories. It was on the outskirts of the town, all the better to keep rowdy patrons from interrupting the lives of the more reserved inhabitants.

  Gorren held the door for her. The scent of humanity, the warm, musky hum of sweat and alcohol billowed out of the open portal. She recoiled momentarily, but only because all conversation ceased, and every head turned in their direction.

  Gorren returned the warm press of his palm to the small of her back, and she found the bravery to take the steps inside. With gentle pressure, he directed her towards a table at which three men were seated. Two empty chairs were waiting. The thought that they had been expected made her even more nervous.

  One of the men could have been Gorren's twin. He had the same lean build, black hair, and dark beard, but there was a sharpness, verging on anger, about his eyes that Gorren did not possess. He scared Elthrinn, until he smiled at her; then his expression transformed into something open and un-beguiling, and instinctively she knew she could trust him.

  The other two men were both blond, although one had a beard almost as dark as Gorren's. Both had blue eyes, as deep as the indigo of cornflowers. In passing she would have considered them brothers. From Gorren's comments, she knew their bond was close, but she somehow knew that these two were not blood relatives, at least, not in the conventional sense.

  Gorren pulled out one of the waiting chairs as he introduced her. "Brothers, this is Elthrinn."

  All three stood as she sat. Gorren reeled off their names as they were lowering themselves back into their seats.

  "We're pleased to meet you." The dark one, Jorm, held his hand out. Elthrinn took it, expecting him to shake it, unsure of the convention, and was surprised when he kissed the back of her fingers. She was even more surprised at the growl that she felt rumble through Gorren; he had not taken his seat yet, he was standing directly behind her.

  Jorm, who still had possession of her hand, looked over her the top of her head. He seemed to be quite amused with himself. "Sit, brother. You should relax, you're too tense."

  If Elthrinn wasn't very much mistaken, Gorren growled again, low and deep in his chest, before he pulled his chair out to sit.

  "So," the blonder of the two would-be-brothers, Delban, maybe, began. "We have you here at our mercy, and can regale you with tales of Gorren's most embarrassing exploits."

  "There was the time he fell asleep on the battlefield." That comment came from Ornef. Elthrinn thought she had remembered the names correctly.

  "Or the time he vomited over our commanding officer," Delban added.

  "All of which are in the long distant past." Gorren was definitely growling.

  "Oh, he's reformed now." Jorm was trying to appear angelic. "He's a respectable officer, a Captain. He would never lower himself to such uncouth antics now."

  Elthrinn couldn't help teasing Gorren just a little, too. He was rising so easily to the bait that his friends dangled. "And I suppose this spectacular reformation occurred approximately two nights ago?" she asked innocently.

  "Oh no." Delban shook his head. "He was positively angelic for quite some time before you arrived."

  "All of five nights, I'm sure," Elthrinn quipped. Gorren's growl was almost a constant rumble as she joked with his friends. "But really, you don't have to paint such an admirable picture. I've decided to marry him anyway." She surprised herself, and evidently Gorren and his friends, by making light of their awkward situation.

  Jorm recovered first. "You will hear a great many things about our brother, but it's likely that less than a tenth will be true."

  "We, however, never lie." Delban put his hand dramatically over his heart.

  "That's complete and utter bollocks for a start."

  Elthrinn turned at the strident and female voice that had sounded from behind her. It had been warm in the tavern, but the temperature dropped noticeably. The expressions of all four men became stern. The woman, a voluptuous red-head with hair as fiery as her attitude,
was standing with her hands planted on her hips.

  "So, this is your furless mate?" The woman's sneer made Elthrinn want to wince, but she held the twitch in check.

  "Deffry, you would do well to remember a degree of civility." Gorren ground the words out between clenched teeth. He was evidently as unhappy at the insulting interruption as Elthrinn was.

  It didn't appear that this Deffry had the sense to heed the blatant warning in Gorren's tone. She made a great show of looking Elthrinn over with great disdain. "I don't see what all the fuss is about."

  Elthrinn wasn't sure what fuss Deffry was talking about, nor did she want to know. Gorren was about to speak again, but Elthrinn held up her hand. She knew that she had to stand up for herself; if she didn't, she would always be on the receiving end of such comments, and people would become braver about making them to her face instead of behind her back. She was sure that Deffry wasn't the only person to hold such an opinion. There would always be the stigma of being the only person in the country that could not change form, an oddity which was doubled by the fact she was to be married into the ruling family.