Searching the Darkness (Erythleh Chronicles Book 2)

by Catherine Johnson

  As he passed the group huddled in the corner of the room, Gorren registered the mildly soothing thought that Jorm and the others had surrounded Elthrinn. His mate was protected behind a wall of muscle and fur. Protected now, at least. Beyond that, he had to shut imaginings of what injuries she might have out of his head. Such distractions would be fatal when fighting a wolf as strong as his father. Dorll wasn't king for nothing.

  Out in the crisp night, amidst swirling flakes of newly falling snow, Gorren launched the first attacking blow, but his father met him half way. They traded blows evenly. Dorll let loose a great swipe at Gorren's shoulder, the one he'd injured before, but Gorren evaded it. As he did so, he buried his fist in his father's ribs, and heard the crunch of the bones giving way. Dorll immediately doubled over his injured side, and Gorren let the king's own momentum add to that of his fist as he threw a punch. The blow glanced off the king's jaw, a little too wild and wide to be accurate, but nevertheless, the king fell to his knees.

  A scream split the night. Not Elthrinn. His mother. A human scream, overflowing with frustration, anger, and fear. Heedless of her nakedness, Rehan ran in front of Gorren, putting her frail human body between him and his father.

  His rage was not abated, but his love for his mother, his absolute unwillingness to risk hurting her, made him step back. Dorll staggered to his feet, and stumbled a step or two forwards, as if to restart the fight, but the queen planted her feet, and held her arms out, her hands palms towards her husband. She was halting the fight before a winner could be decided. Gorren would not admit defeat, but he would accede to his mother's request. He began the change back to his human self.

  His father began to transform several heartbeats after him. Gorren noticed that Dorll was bleeding heavily from a cut to his head, a furrow carved into his face, that extended from his hairline to his jaw. Gorren didn't think this was the end of the night, but they would need their voices. Staying in wolf form, allowing instincts to rule, would only result in a continuation of the fight. There was only one way such a fight could end now.

  Gorren spoke as the last of Dorll's pelt receded, as his skin returned to its lighter shade, before the king had completed his transition.

  "He hurt her," Gorren growled. His vocal chords were rough from near constant snarling.

  "You will not kill him," his father grated out.

  "I could."

  "No!"

  That was his mother. Whatever he felt about Noridan, in that moment, his brother was his mother's son, too. The same love that she bestowed on him, extended to his brother, whether Gorren liked it or not.

  The subject of his fury was leaning on the side of the cottage. Gorren hadn't seen him arrive there, but he saw now that Delban was not many paces away from Noridan. Delban looked like he might want to kill Noridan himself, and that scared Gorren, as much as he appreciated the support.

  "Why do you care so much?" Noridan spat onto the ground. "She's just a Felthissian bitch, not even a pup to us."

  Gorren went for his brother, feeling himself begin to change again as he did so. His fingers were more than half way to claws as his fist connected with his brother's jaw, driven by the far superior musculature of his half form. Blood and teeth flew out of Noridan's mouth. His brother dropped like a stone tossed into a pond, landing in a crumpled heap in the snow and dirt.

  "Gorren, no."

  Gorren stepped back, and allowed his body to fall back into his human shape, out of deference to his mother's authoritative command. He knew deep into his bones that if his mother hadn't been there, both his father's and brother's life blood would have been staining the snow.

  His mother's hand smoothed a soothing circle on his arm. "Go, tend to your wife. There's no need to provide any more entertainment for the town."

  Gorren was still locked into the battle-gaze of concentrating on his enemy. Now he could feel the hundreds of eyes on his back, but he didn't turn.

  "If he comes back here, if he ever touches her again, I will kill him, regardless of whether you intervene."

  "I understand. He will be dealt with."

  Gorren knew that his mother wasn't talking about their father punishing Noridan. Although Dorll's temper was quick and hot, it was his mother's punishments that Gorren had feared growing up. He hadn't misbehaved much, he hated the sting of her disapproval too much to earn it often, but when she did see fit to offer punishment, it was always a lesson he never forgot. He wasn't sure what his mother intended to do with her fully grown son, but Rehan wasn't queen for nothing.

  But whatever his mother came up with would not be enough, not nearly enough. Gorren felt his lips set in a tight line as he nodded, once, then he shook his mother's hand off his arm, and went inside his home.

  Elthrinn was huddled on the floor, in front of the fire, wrapped in his cloak. Gorren heard the door shut. Delban was behind him. Ornef and Jorm were sitting with Elthrinn, not touching her, just nearby. They moved back as Gorren came forward.

  Gorren felt tears burn in his eyes at the sight of Elthrinn, so small and so alone in the dancing firelight. He dropped down to his knees besides her, realising too late that she might be scared by him. She might have been given reason to be as terrified of his naked human form as she might rightly be of his half form.

  "Rinn?"

  She didn't answer him. She didn't turn away from the flickering flames to even look at him. She was shaking.

  "Rinn," Gorren's voice choked in his throat. He lifted his hand to touch her shoulder, and let it drop back, unsure if he should, unsure if his touch would be welcome. His heart twisted into a painful, leaden knot in his chest.

  "Rinn... did... did he... hurt you?"

  Elthrinn started to rock, gently, back and forth. Gorren could see that she had her knees gathered in front of her, her arms wrapped around her legs, hugging them, pinning the heavy material of his cloak in place, a shield, against everything.

  "Rinn... please..."

  He didn't want to make her say the words. If she'd been violated he didn't want to make her say so, but he had to know. He didn't want to know. He felt like vomiting into the fire. The stink of terror and confusion that was rolling off Elthrinn wasn't helping; combined with the residual battle-madness, it was clouding his ability to concentrate, let alone sense anything.

  If only he'd realised that Noridan had been missing sooner. If only he hadn't allowed himself to be caught up in the glee of the hunt. If only he'd never left her. If only he'd chosen to stay. Gorren decided at that moment that he was going to leave Cranak, leave Dorvek, if he had to. He was going to take Elthrinn far away. He would do whatever was necessary to ensure her safety. If that meant leaving his friends and his family, his people, and his culture, then that was what he would do. He would take Elthrinn back to Felthiss, to Thrissia. He'd take her back to summer, to her own people...

  But what if she didn't want him to stay in Thrissia with her? What if she wanted to cleave to her own kind? What if she never wanted to see another wolf again? The thought that Elthrinn might no longer want him by her side brought the tears over his lids, and down his cheeks.

  "Rinn...did he?"

  "He tried to."

  If he hadn't been Dorvern, if he hadn't been blessed with superior hearing, he never would have caught her words. Her lips barely framed them around an exhale. As astute as they were, he didn't think that Delban, Jorm, or Ornef had heard her speak, either. They'd given no indication of having done so.

  Ornef and Jorm were still in their wolf forms, lying on their bellies with their paws before them, and their heads alert, not relaxed, but not overly vigilant. They were paying attention without ratcheting up the atmosphere. Delban was in human form, naked, and hanging back in the shadows of the room.

  A log crackled, the fire jumped. One flame leapt out, and illuminated a vicious bruise forming across Elthrinn's cheek.

  "He did." Gorren couldn't be still. He couldn't passively leave Elthrinn to her fear. And shame, he could feel shame eman
ating from her. That she should feel ashamed of something over which she had no control, something that was not her fault, something she could have done nothing to foresee, or prevent, made Gorren want to shake her... or maybe kill Noridan. That, certainly, would have been more productive.

  Gorren lifted his hand, and ghosted the tips of his fingers over the bruise he'd seen.

  Elthrinn flinched away from him, nearly toppling over with the violence of the motion.

  Gorren's heart stopped, then split in two as if cleaved by an axe.

  At least, he thought, she hadn't run from him. She regained her balance, and resumed her rocking, although it was more pronounced now, not just a barely discernible motion.

  But still, he couldn't, wouldn't leave her. Gorren stood, and retreated to the darkened rear of the room, close to Delban. He didn't want to perform the change by Elthrinn; the sight of his body altering might well be too much for her. She'd never seen him during the process of the change, not even during the events of this night. He didn't think she needed to see it now.

  Gorren changed to his fully wolven form as quickly as his physiology would allow. Delban, seeing and sensing his intention, followed suit. Soon, the only human form in the room was Elthrinn.

  His brothers hung back following his lead, waiting for his permission, but Gorren could feel their concern for his mate more clearly now. No, not just concern, worry. They were afraid for her, they were afraid of her. They wanted to offer comfort, but they didn't want to suffer her fear, or to be rejected, any more than he did.

  Gorren crept forward. He kept his body low, his tail tucked underneath him. Especially after the events of this night, he would have said that there was no one in all of Cranak, in all of Dorvek, that he would bow to; except for his mate, for her and her alone, he would abase himself.

  He shuffled forward, his belly brushing the floor, until he could see Elthrinn's face. She was staring into the fire, but her eyes were wide and wild, and saw nothing. Gorren considered the fact that she had not run screaming from the large canine in front of her as a good sign. He lifted his muzzle, and briefly licked Elthrinn's chin, a begging gesture that he would make to no one else.

  At the rough abrasion of his wet tongue, Elthrinn turned. She seemed, perhaps, surprised to find him in this form, but her body relaxed. Gorren thought it a little bizarre, but it seemed that in this form, she did not see him as a threat. That was odd to him. As a wolf he could run faster than she, his jaws could crunch bone, his teeth were sharp enough to rip flesh without consideration.

  Elthrinn unwound a shaking hand from the shield of his cloak. The wool and fur slipped away from her shoulder, and Gorren was somewhat gratified to see that she was fully clothed beneath. He had been so full of outrage and fury when he'd burst into the cottage, that he couldn't remember whether Elthrinn had been in any way naked under Noridan's assault. And that she might have been, and he might have missed it, made him feel as low as a worm.

  Her delicate fingers found his ear. He could feel the tremors running through them, and that set his instincts on edge, but he swallowed them down. His mate was not a wolf; he had to make allowances for her human reactions. Elthrinn began to stroke and scratch the spot that she knew was a weakness for him. Gorren had no shame in indulging her now. He crept forward, closer, so that his whole body was almost touching her, and rolled onto his back, giving her his stomach and throat.

  He knew that Elthrinn had no comprehension of the powerful signal that he was giving her, or the message that his behaviour was telegraphing to his brothers. He didn't care. He was hers, she was his, and he would do whatever it took to make her feel safe, to help her find her bravery again.

  ~o0o~

  They slept that night on the rug in front of the fire, with Gorren in his wolven form, and Elthrinn curled against him with her head on his ribs. Jorm, Ornef, and Delban did not change back, either. Jorm edged closer to Elthrinn, almost within touching distance. Delban arranged himself in front of the door. No one would have been able to enter without the strength to shove a fully grown wolf out of the way.

  It took Gorren some time to find sleep. Exhaustion had claimed Elthrinn long before it beckoned him, but when sleep did come, it came with the comfort that his pack was whole, damaged, but whole, and that it is was smaller and tighter than he'd ever been led to believe it could be.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  "Rinn! Rinn! Wake up!"

  Her eyes flew open in response to the croaked demand. The nightmare faded, but grimy tendrils clung to her waking. A half-remembered vision. The hand on her arm released her, moments before the shriek that had been building in her throat found freedom. Gorren had learnt not to touch her in her sleep if he could help it. If she woke in the grip of a nightmare, and felt constrained, even in the gentlest way, it became so much worse. The nightmares were bad enough without the encouragement of her physical senses.

  For many nights after Noridan had tried to attack her, had attacked her, the only way she had been able to sleep with Gorren nearby was with him in his full-wolf form. Bizarrely, even though she couldn't relax into unconsciousness with him as a man, she couldn't sleep if he wasn't there at all. He'd asked if she would have been more comfortable with him sleeping at the barracks for a time. She'd seen in his eyes what it cost him to make that offer, and she'd lost the ability to breathe at the thought of him being so far away. She had literally collapsed to her knees, and he'd had to rub her back and whisper soothing encouragement, until she could regain herself again.

  They could share a bed now, but the nightmare still gripped her more nights than not, and she felt the effort that Gorren had to maintain to sleep without touching her. It was evident in the dark circles that had grown under his eyes that he did not find their nights restful. Of course, her own set of dark circles told their own story.

  The nightmares always began the same way, with the knock on the cottage door. Noridan had barged in, not violently, but with a strength and intent that had left Elthrinn no opportunity to shut him out. The nightmares did not dwell on the words that Noridan had spat at her, other than to remind her of the feeling of inferiority that his speech had conveyed. Noridan disliked her, thought of her as less because she could not change form. He thought that made her disposable, and useable at the same time. He had not voiced any concern about the reflection of her lack on his brother. In the nightmare, she suffered the slaps, and was slammed over the table again, the remembered force making her grunt in her sleep. She'd worn the bruises of those actions for many days.

  In the nightmare, she felt the brush of cold air as Noridan had flipped her tunic over her back, as he had yanked at her leather trews, abrading her skin as he'd dragged the garments down without unfastening them. Her shoulders and wrists always ached with the memory of the way he'd pinned her, and restrained her. And she always felt his.... as it nudged at her, as it almost, as it almost made everything so much worse than it had been. And then the demon had appeared .

  She'd known that the monster was Gorren. How she'd known, she couldn't tell. Nothing about the appearance or physiology of the thing remotely resembled her husband, but she had known. Just as she knew that if she was ever in a crowd of full wolves she'd be able to pick him out.

  She couldn't deny the relief she'd felt as Noridan had been torn away from her, but it was as she was staring at the beast that had suddenly appeared in their home that she felt the scream building in her chest. She'd never seen this thing before, it almost seemed to have no hint of wolf, or of man in it. It stood on its hind legs, although it was immediately apparent from the shoulders, obscenely hunched with muscle, that it could drop and run onto all fours. The muzzle was neither a human face or a lupine snout; it was an extended, yet truncated version of both. The gaping, slavering mouth had been filled with long, sharp teeth, bared in aggression. The hair, or fur, had been denser over the head and back of the thing, exposing the etched muscles in the chest, abdomen and thighs. The lack of fur over the front of the be
ast had exposed other things that Elthrinn couldn't bring herself to think about yet, not in the context of her husband.

  In this shape, Gorren had been taller and wider than usual. He had seemed to fill the cottage. His rage, and sheer presence, and physical body, had consumed everything. When he had turned those fierce, gleaming yellow eyes on her, despite the innate knowledge that he meant her no harm, Elthrinn had screamed.

  ~o0o~

  Elthrinn tried not to venture into the town alone if she could help it, but there were times when it became unavoidable. A day such as this, when Gorren had been called to duty at the barracks, and she had to purchase food, was one of those times. She could either face the covert glances of the townsfolk, and the ripple of whispered comments that trailed in her wake, or she could face Gorren's concern and worry. Since she felt that worrying about her was hurting him, Elthrinn usually decided that she would face the townsfolk.