Cook Bolstad looked up as she entered. He pointed the tip of his knife at her. “If you’re not here to help, get out.”
She laughed. “I have an hour before I must take my post. Put me to work.”
He handed her a bowl full of vegetables to begin chopping. She noticed he was slicing the dried mushrooms she had brought back from the swamp. She remembered how excited she had been to find this delicacy. She wondered if she would ever be able to enjoy it without thinking of Lars and everything that had happened.
“I cannot believe all I still have left to do,” Cook Bolstad sighed. “As if I did not have enough work feeding a battalion of warriors, now I am expected to create masterpieces for a princess! Why the wedding was not held at her father’s home is beyond me...”
Aein shook her head. “Moan all you want. I know you love this.”
Cook Bolstad smiled, but did not reply.
“So, today we get to try the mushrooms,” remarked Aein.
“It is going to be a feast like nothing anyone has ever tasted before! Fit for a someday-queen!”
“Did I bring enough?” asked Aein.
Cook Bostad brought one of the mushrooms over to her. “Smell it.”
She took a tentative sniff. It was earthy, but there was a savory scent to it, too.
“It is the smell, the essence, that gives the flavor. I shall put it in all the dishes and just that hint will be enough to make everything taste better.”
She was interrupted in her work by a shout from the top of the steps. “The princess has been sighted!”
Aein frantically wiped her hands on a towel. The princess was not due to arrive for several more hours. She raced up the stairs to take her post. She was relieved everyone seemed to have been taken by surprise. Fellow guards were running out of the great hall. Servants were dashing through the corridors, arms full of linens. Aein ran into her barracks. She grabbed her sword from under her bed and buckled her quiver onto her back. She snatched her leather helmet from her footlocker and smashed it onto her head. She could not believe this was happening. She grabbed her bow and raced up the spiral stone staircase until she reached the parapet. The nightwatch she was replacing looked at her gratefully as he left his post to change his uniform. It would be a long day for him.
She looked off into the distance and could see the flags of Princess Gisla’s approaching parade. Aein glanced for a moment over her shoulder back into the courtyard. Banners were being hung frantically, warriors were racing out to take their place in the straight lines of honorary formation. Everyone was struggling to appear as if they had not been taken unaware by her early arrival. Aein could not even imagine what Lord Arnkell was going through.
Aein returned her attention to the stronghold land. She knew there would be no threat Princess Gisla’s entourage could not handle, but it would be bad form if someone made an attack and Aein had not at least attempted to stop it. She did not need another mark against her character.
It gave her the chance to look upon the princess’s party though. They were so much more than Lord Arnkell’s stronghold could ever be. There were probably close to one-hundred armed guards marching and riding in two columns. Their armor gleamed in the morning sun. The pink and indigo banners snapped in the wind as the party wound along the northern road. Their horses were covered in bright silks with great feathered plumes upon their heads.
Aein hated to admit it, but it was one of the greatest sights she had ever seen. She turned back and looked at her own home, this place she had thought so strong and fine. She should not have thought them anything to be ashamed of, but now her fine leather dress armor seemed especially shabby, the banners they hung to honor the princess commonplace. Even the stronghold with its battalion of sixty warriors now suddenly seemed weak. Sixty warriors to the one-hundred marching with Princess Gisla, one-hundred warriors which could be spared from her father’s household. True, many of the Arnkell warriors were posted on the border. This was not the complete show of their might. But… Aein thought of Finn and his visit to the stronghold. He had said what he wished more than anything else was Princess Gisla’s happiness. Had he looked around at their fortifications and wondered how on earth such a life could be entered without disappointment and scorn? He was so gracious, Aein realized. He had never given any sign that he thought the Arnkell stronghold anything but grand. She wondered how on earth he could have possibly described it to Princess Gisla and still convince her it was a worthy match.
Poor Lord Arnkell, she thought, when he looked upon his bride and saw everything he lacked.
The parade reached the stronghold’s barbican about an hour later. Two by two, the soldiers from the Haidra kingdom filtered into the inner bailey. As soon as they arrived, the stable hands ran forward to take their horses, allowing the riders to come to attention across the courtyard from Lord Arnkell’s forces.
The princess herself rode upon a jet black steed with a flowing black mane. The horse was enormous, at least eighteen hands. And yet, he looked normal-sized beneath the woman who rode him.
Princess Gilsa was tall, perhaps six-feet or more. Dressed in black armor, which matched her wild, curly hair and dark skin, every inch of her was muscle. She was a warrior. What every stronghold dreamed of. She dismounted from her horse and placed her hands upon her hips, taking in this new home. She was filled with life and vitality, as if she was made of fire instead of flesh. It was like the entire stronghold was lit by her smile. She took in everyone as she scanned the crowd. Her eyes met Aein’s, and Aein was startled to see that though the rest of Princess Gisla was dark, her eyes were as bright blue as the banners she carried. And then Gilsa broke the contact as a guard strode forward, and knelt before her, offering her up a two-handed sword.
It was Finn.
Aein could not help but gasp. He was not just some emissary from the Haidra kingdom. He was Princess Gisla’s most trusted man, her chosen armsman, he carried her sword. And Aein had sat with him, stealing an ale from the stronghold’s cellar.
She was an idiot.
She had been chummy with the third highest ranking person, aside from the king and his daughter, in the entire Haidra kingdom.
Finn was almost as tall as the warrior princess, but not quite. Even the armor Aein had so admired was nothing compared to what he wore today. His breastplate was shaped like a bare-chested male torso. Aein had no idea how an armorer could even create such a thing. His hair had been freshly cut, his stubbled beard shaved close, his weathered skin washed clean. He was powerful. The chosen weapon he wore was a two-handed sword and Aein could tell that for all the pomp and circumstance of the day, it was no showpiece.
The princess took her sword from him, and Finn rose in a single motion. He barked out an order and the entire regiment turned as one unit from Princess Gilsa to face Lord Arnkell’s warriors. Aein closed her eyes in embarrassment as her own people shifted and attempted to stand taller.
Another warrior stepped forward, handing a shield to Finn. He banged on it twice with his fist and then fell to his knee again to hand it to Princess Gisla. She took her shield and stepped forward to face the main door of the keep.
She raised her sword and called aloud in a rumbling voice, “I challenge you, Lord Arnkell, for the land, the people, and the ownership of this stronghold!”
The double-doors of the keep opened and Lord Arnkell stepped out. He was dressed in his green and yellow leathers. A wolf’s pelt was draped across his shoulders, held in place by a golden broach encrusted with red rubies.
“Who calls me?” he shouted.
“The Princess Gisla of the Haidra Kingdom! Come face me or all your lands are forfeit!”
He stepped forward and removed the pelt, exchanging it for his sword from his own right-hand man.
He entered into the courtyard and the princess began swinging her weapon in slow arcing circles. Both bride and groom had a smile upon their face as the battle rage pounded in their veins.
The Lord Arnkell took
the first traditional lunge at her. It was good form. It meant he was strong. Willing to take the initiative. Willing to go on the attack for his stronghold. Princess Gisla returned with the second traditional lunge. Again, it was good form. It meant she was willing to face any attack.
But then the traditional opening was over and the battle was met. The swords clanged against one another and both combatants’ breath was soon heavy. Gisla and Arnkell were fighting with their all, but their joy in the fight was apparent. Aein felt the energy of the crowd, felt their collective excitement, and found herself cheering and shouting. It was as if she was the one in the battle ring. She could barely watch. She could not stop watching. It was as if there was nothing that existed outside of that circle. Whomever won would take the throne as the reigning monarch, with the other as consort. Their lands would merge, their people become one, but it was this battle which would determine whether the coat of arms was Hairda or Arnkell.
And then there was a clang as Lord Arnkell’s sword was flung from his hand. Princess Gisla’s sword was leveled with his throat. The entire crowd was silent as they waited for this final moment.
“Do you yield, Lord Arnkell?” she shouted.
“With all my heart,” he replied.
And with that, the entire crowd erupted into applause and cheering. Someone grabbed Aein and swung her around. The princess and lord fell into an embrace and a deep kiss. The guards raised and lowered their weapons in rhythm with their cheers. All of the warriors that stood behind Lord Arnkell laid down their weapons and fell to one knee, to be commanded by Princess Gisla.
But despite the chaos, it was Finn who kept catching Aein’s attention. His fist was closed and his thumb ran absentmindedly across his lower lip. Though he wore an approving smile, there was something else in his watchful glance, as if he did not quite believe that Lord Arnkell would yield so easily, as if bracing himself for a betrayal. The bride and groom walked into the keep together, arms wrapped around each other’s waist.
Finn must have felt her eyes upon him, for he glanced up. She touched the tip of her bow to her brow and offered him a friendly salute. He smiled, but gave her no more as he returned his attention to the couple and followed them into the stronghold.
She turned back to her outward post scanning the horizon. She wondered what caused him such worry. The wedding battle went as wedding battles had gone for centuries. There was no sign of anything amiss.
She glanced back over her shoulder and wondered if perhaps she had it all wrong. Perhaps Finn had not been the one to convince Princess Gisla to marry. Perhaps he had come as emissary to bring back proof that she should not. Aein shifted her shoulders beneath her quiver, the weight causing her dress armor to cut into her flesh.
She was glad he had been proven wrong.
Chapter Seven
The great hall was a riot of colors and smells. Long tables stretched the entire length of the room, filled with hundreds of people. Lord Arnkell had decreed that tonight, everyone would feast. From warrior to servant, advisor to stable boy, everyone would share the table to pledge their fealty to the happy couple.
Princess Gisla and Lord Arnkell sat upon two matching wooden thrones, lost in one another’s company. Now that the property rights had been settled, tomorrow would be the official ceremony, and the rest of the week would be spent in revelry and merrymaking.
Suddenly, Finn sat down beside Aein. He had removed his shining silver armor and replaced it with the lighter leather armor common to the Arnkell stronghold, as if he was trying to blend in. “Glad you were able to join the feast!” he remarked, taking out his knife to cut into the meat Cook Hairda had prepared.
Aein took a sip of her drink. Somehow knowing his rank stole her words. She needed a moment to compose herself. She put down her glass and flashed him a smile she hoped didn’t show how awkward she felt. “It is good to see you again,” she said lamely.
He chewed quickly and swallowed. His eyes kept darting up towards Princess Gisla. “A fortunate day for all.”
There was a terse flavor to his words, though, which caused Aein ask, “Do you mean it?”
Finn grabbed his glass and drank down huge, fast draughts before returning to his plate. “Of course I do.”
“I saw you in the courtyard,” said Aein. “You seemed preoccupied.”
He smiled as he swallowed another large bite. “Just a feeling. Sometimes feelings are wrong. Did you try this?” he said, holding up the small potatoes Cook Bolstad had roasted. “Delicious!”
Aein took the cue and placed one in her mouth. It was fragrant with the mushrooms. The taste felt like falling down into time. She was back in the swamp. Back with Lars as he boosted her up into the tree to scrape them off. The taste was not the delicacy that Cook Bolstad promised. It was the taste of memories.
Aein wiped her mouth and stood up, forcing back the images of Lars as he stood there alone, as the fog cut them off. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I must go.”
Finn looked at her, sensing this shift in mood. He took her wrist gently in his rough hand. “Have I offended you?”
She shook her head. “A friend… a fellow warrior… was supposed to be here today. It just struck me very strongly that he is not.”
Finn’s eyes softened with her words. “Those we have loved… those that have fallen… they are always here with us.”
Aein did not know how to explain to him that was the problem. She was haunted by Lars. She was unable to forget him, to come to terms with the guilt. If only his memory would leave her.
Instead, she just said, “If you will excuse me.”
He gave her a kind smile and her wrist an understanding squeeze before he turned back to his plate. She walked as quickly as she could down into the kitchen.
Cook Bolstad was sitting in one corner with a glass of wine in one hand and his feet up.
“What?” he asked as she entered. “Don’t tell me that the happy couple requests a change in menu.”
“No,” she laughed. She came over and pulled his head upon her side, hugging him with one arm. “Your meal is a smashing hit.”
“Did you taste the mushrooms?” he asked, looking up at her.
“I did!” she replied, not wanting to say more.
“Good,” he stated, going back to his wine and motioning to the leftovers. “Help yourself to more.”
She looked around the quiet kitchen. Everyone was gone. The next courses were not even prepared. “Is there nothing to be done?” she asked.
He shook his head. “The worst is over. The rest can wait.”
“But the dessert…” she pointed out.
Cook Bolstad waved his hand. “It can wait. Have a glass with me. Eat. Let me just enjoy these few moments of calm. Soon the sun will set and from there on out, it will be nothing but chaos. So sit. Stay with me.”
She smiled and went over to help herself to the scraps lying around. It was these interludes with Cook Bolstad that were some of her happiest times. The world ceased to exist. There was no swamp, no missing friend, no hollow reveling. Just her and the man who had raised her and the quiet of his own little kingdom.
Chapter Eight
She was lifting the spoon to her lips when the noises began. She looked over at Cook Bolstad. He had fallen asleep, his empty glass tipped in his lap. Aein shook him and he woke with a jolt. There was fear in his eyes as he heard what she heard.
“Find someplace safe,” she said.
He nodded and headed for the larder. She heard him pushing the things inside against the door. She ran for the stairs. The cries. The screams of terror and panic. She raced up the steps. The sight which greeted her was worse than anything she had ever seen before.
Wolves. There were wolves all over the grand hall. They were larger than any beast in the wild lands. They were attacking the party members. Blood was everywhere. People were being ripped apart. Lord Arnkell was standing on his throne, fending off one such a creature. His bride was nowhere in sight. How did th
ese wolves even get in?
Her heart pounded as the stampede of people came at her, followed by a horde of the monsters. There were hundreds of the wild dogs, snarling and vicious. They were unrelenting. It was as if they would only stop to kill.
Aein reached for her sword and then remembered it was stowed in her barracks. No one would bring weapons to a wedding feast. There was nothing she could do to protect anyone. If only she could get a weapon.
She turned and ran out of the great hall into the courtyard. There were warriors scattered throughout, trying to take down these animals. She watched as they stabbed the creatures again and again. The wolves retreated, but they did not die.
She ran up stone staircase to the barracks. Though dark had come to the stronghold, no one had lit the candles. She noted as she ran past a window that a full moon was on the rise. She ran faster as the sounds of screams followed her down the empty hall. She reached her footlocker and grabbed her sword, grabbed her quiver and arrows. She ran back where she had a clear view of the carnage. The slaughter was as far as the eye could see. Scarlet screams wherever her eyes rested. Her hand shaking, she took aim at the animals attacking her people. She tried to calm herself, though the adrenaline pounded through her veins. She let three arrows fly. They all struck true, but they had no effect.
“Save your arrows!” said a low voice. “They’ll not do you any good.”
She turned around to find Finn guiding a group of twenty people into the room.
“I need to get these people to safety,” he said, herding them as fast as he could into the barracks. He was clutching his arm. The blood dripped from his fingers. “Some place with a single, strong door. The wolves are everywhere.”
Aein pointed towards the back of the room. “Keep going,” she said. “Out the back and up the stairs. There is a chapel. It should hold.”
She turned back towards the open arch, preparing herself for whatever might enter the room next.
“Are you coming?” Finn asked.
Shifters After Dark Box Set Page 91