Shifters After Dark Box Set

by S M Reine et al.

  Finn attacked, taking on the first two werewolves. Their battle was met with fierce snaps and snarls. Aein hated to think that these were humans who survived the night, who had come all this way only to be brought down in this final moment by someone who could actually help them.

  Lars’s mount reared onto its hind legs, trampling the werewolves beneath its hooves. The horse screamed as the wolves raked their paw against its flank, and responded by delivering a fierce kick, sending the werewolves flying. Stunned, they stumbled around. Aein looked over at the other horse. Lars had metal gauntlets. They were rusted and might not hold up, but they existed. She ran over and pulled them out, thrusting them on her hands. She ran over to the staggering werewolves, who met her with fierce, but groggy postures. She leapt onto the back of one, and with a metal gloved hand, she forced his jaws open. With her other hand, she crushed a berry and wiped it on his tongue.

  At once, he went slack beneath her and the frenzy ended. She held up her arm as another werewolf attacked. It grabbed her arm. She let it, despite feeling like it might snap her bones in two. And again, she crushed a berry on her fingertips. She held her hand up, as if making a move to grab the dog’s snout, and it released and went for her hand. Her fingertips went inside of its mouth and immediately it stopped, backing up and shaking its head.

  Counting Finn, she had three werewolves on her side. There were still the two that Finn was holding off. There were three attacking Lars. But these newly converted allies threw themselves into the fray, leaping upon the unsuspecting backs of the rabid werewolves and holding them until Aein could come over and dose them with a berry. With each dog that she turned, they joined her, becoming her canine army.

  The final werewolf did not give up without a fight. Despite the fact he was surrounded by seven other werewolves, he made a leap for Aein’s throat. She fell back as he landed on her chest, placing her gauntlet between his snapping jaws and her neck.

  “AEIN!” shouted Lars, leaping from his horse and stumbling as he walked towards her. He lifted his sword to hack the animal in two. She was so close to being able to save this one.

  “Stay back!” she shouted. “Stay back!”

  At once, all seven dogs were upon this last holdout. She thought she was going to be crushed beneath the weight of the pile. But she got the last berry in his mouth.

  And it was done.

  She rolled over onto her side. She pulled off the gauntlets, now battered and bent and crushing into her skin. It tore her hands getting them off. Panting, she looked over her shoulder. The werewolves sat around the final dog, anxiously waiting for him to come around.

  Lars knelt beside Aein and offered his hand. A small, flickering flame of hope burned in his eyes, burned as he looked at her. She wetted her lips and then grabbed on. He lifted her to her feet.

  “There is a cure,” he whispered.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  All the dogs looked at them. Slowly, with tails beneath their legs, they came over, pressing their heads beneath Aein and Lars’s hands, rolling onto their backs to show their soft bellies, and whining sounds which sounded very close to an apology.

  “There is a cure,” said Lars again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The moment they stepped out of the fog into the sunlight on the edge of the swamp, Aein felt as if a massive weight had been pulled from her chest. She looked back at Lars. His vision, which had been cloudy despite the moment of clarity in the fight, left him. He almost shook his head, like coming out of water and needing to shake the droplets away.

  He rode his own horse now, who seemed to recognize him and settle down into a grudging acceptance of a rider. Surrounding their feet during this entire journey was their new pack. The wolves were serious about their posts, moving silently through the grey. But as soon as they stepped from the wooden road onto the gravel one, it was as if the pressure lifted for them, too. They ran and leaped, chasing after each other and wrestling. Aein couldn’t help herself from laughing. The absence of that fog left her dizzy with euphoria, like when a terrible pain suddenly stops. It wasn’t so much happiness as it was the lack of misery.

  Lars swung his leg over and slid off of his horse. He walked over to the grass and felt it beneath his fingers. He looked back at the mist swirling across the walkway they just left. A few tendrils snaked out, but it stayed on its side of the border.

  Lars lifted the back of his hand to his nose, wiping away the moisture forming as he fought back tears of gratitude. “We are out,” is all he said.

  Aein dismounted her horse and walked over to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. They didn’t need to say anything more. One of the werewolves came over and placed his head beneath her other hand. She looked down. It was Finn.

  “He seems to like you,” said Lars.

  She replied drily, “Yes, I believe he does.”

  Lars stood up, running his hands over his long, unkempt hair. “We should find a place to rest for the night.”

  “Preferably farther from the swamp,” said Aein, looking over her shoulder.

  “You are reading my mind.”

  They rode their horses side-by-side, not needing to say a word. The werewolves pranced along, cavorting and rolling in the dirt. Finn seemed to come back frequently to check in on Aein. Finally, they reached a spot close to a stream that looked like a good enough spot to spend the night. The swamp was behind them, the forest was ahead, but for a moment, they were in the clear.

  The werewolves set about digging up a fire pit before Aein could even lift a finger to start it herself. She left Lars to unpack the horses as she went off to find some firewood. The sun was low in the sky and they did not have much time.

  She returned and the camp was almost completely set up. The dogs waiting around the fire, like politicians in a petition room. She plunked down hard next to Lars upon the bedroll.

  “There is only one bedroll,” he remarked.

  “Yours was disgusting. We can share if you need it,” she said.

  Finn gave a low growl.

  She held up her hand. “I think we’re about to have a much bigger bedroll problem when all of you transform.”

  And sure enough, the dark of the twilight came. All of the werewolves around her began to shift. Again, not in pain and agony, but just as if having one’s fur fade to skin was as normal as removing one’s shirt.

  She turned and looked at Lars. “It will be your turn soon.”

  He nodded, watching the werewolves until the transformation was complete. Instead of eight dogs, suddenly there were now eight people.

  They were of all shapes and sizes. Aein recognized them from the stronghold. But most of all, she recognized the warrior who would not let her go.

  “What happened?” she asked Finn.

  “There was a raiding party,” said Finn. “They came to the castle and… they persuaded everyone in human form to put on these silver collars. They said it would control the change. They said that it would keep us from killing one another. They swore that it was Princess Gisla’s family who cursed us. They captured her and put her in silver chains. They are heading off to the Haidra stronghold and will release the werewolves upon it.”

  “It wasn’t Gisla,” said Aein.

  “I know,” said Finn. “She would never do anything like that. The few of us who think as you do, I told them of the cure. We decided to escape. We went out that secret passage and ran. But I am sorry that we found you while in our wolf form…”

  She looked down at her bloodied hands. “Hazard of the trade.”

  Finn looked at Aein and Lars, the only soldiers in their company. “We must go and warn the Haidra stronghold.”

  It was at that moment that Lars began to turn. He looked over at Aein with fear in his eyes.

  “Noooo…” he whispered. “Make it stop…”

  But the change continued until his legs and arms were changed into furry legs, he mouth grew into a snout, and his skin sprouted fur.

 
She realized this was the first time someone had taken a berry in human form rather than wolf form. He was aware of all the shifts, of everything happening that was not him, rather than having the relief that he was turning back from beast to man.

  Lars looked up at her and his ears flattened sadly upon his head. He stood, his tail listless between his legs. He walked over to the fire and, with a sigh, laid down beside the flames, hiding his nose in his paws.

  Aein hated to see him like that. She walked over and placed her hand upon his head comfortingly, aware that Finn was watching her closely. “It is going to be all right, Lars. This is just the first step in the cure. We only need to wait for the bush to sprout again.”

  Lars just turned his head away from her.

  “How many berries do you have?” asked Finn.

  “Twenty-two now,” said Aein. “There were only thirty berries left. The season was gone and other animals had eaten them all.”

  Finn pursed his lips and began pacing. “There were more than twenty-two wolves,” he said.

  Aein nodded. “Perhaps silver is the only way to control them until the bush sprouts again.”

  Finn looked off into the horizon, crossing his arms as he thought. “It is a cruel way to hold them,” he replied. “The transformation is still agonizing. Their memories are still wild. It is only that they are being held in a wearable cage that they don’t move. It is only pain that keeps them in check.”

  “Only until the summer,” promised Aein. “As soon as spring comes, we will return and gather all that we can. I ate handfuls of them and never transformed. Perhaps with enough…” She let the hope of that wish linger in the air. Perhaps with enough, it could stop the transformations for good.

  She gave Lars’s head another stroke, but he pulled away from her. She stood, leaving him alone in his misery.

  “Will he be all right?” asked Finn.

  Aein explained. “He was stuck on the border for too long.”

  She didn’t have to say any more. Finn understood what that meant. “We shall do whatever we can to aid him in his recovery.”

  Aein went back to the group. “I have no food. No comforts. Nothing that I can offer you.”

  “We ate in our other form,” said one of the men. “We shall continue to do so.”

  Aein nodded, realizing it was the only way they would survive. “Now, tell me more about this invasion and what you propose we do about it.”

  It was at that moment that Lars sat up. He whined into the darkness. He turned to Aein and barked.

  “They are coming,” said Finn. “The werewolves are coming.”

  “Go,” said Aein, pushing him away. “From the look of our camp, it will appear no one is here but me.”

  “Their dogs will smell us.”

  “You must try. Run as far away as you can in as many different directions as possible. They cannot track you all. Come back before the sunrise.” She turned to Lars, taking his great head in her hands. “Lead them to safety. You may not owe me anything, but you swore an oath to protect the stronghold’s people. Protect them.”

  He struggled to his feet. He then gave her a gentle lick on the cheek and ran out into the darkness beyond the light of the fire. The eight others followed, leaving Aein alone.

  She dashed to her saddlebag and grabbed the remaining berries, wrapping them and placing the precious handful in her shirt. She sat down again by the fire, resting herself upon the single bedroll, hoping that no one observed her doing anything besides sitting perfectly quiet and preparing for the night.

  It was then that she fell under attack.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Even if she had tried to defend herself, she was outnumbered. She was surrounded at once by forty werewolves on all sides. Behind them were forty people. All wore the harnesses of silver. From behind them stepped a single man, a single man that Aein knew and recognized. She fell down on one knee in sworn fealty.

  “My Lord Arnkell,” she said. “You survived.”

  His glance no longer carried the warmth and approval it once did. Instead, he looked down upon her with disgust. “And so you survived, too.”

  A coldness wrapped itself around Aein’s heart and she realized how wrong she had been about this man.

  “My survival does not seem to please you,” she said.

  “I heard you came to the swamp to find a cure,” said Lord Arnkell. He motioned at the people and creatures around him. “Is it true?”

  The voice inside her screamed to play the fool. And so, she bowed her head and said, “Alas, I found nothing.”

  “Really?” he sneered. “And yet, I hear that you, like me, do not transform.”

  “Who did you hear that from?” she asked, taken aback.

  Lord Arnkell motioned the men and women around him. “Do you think there is anything which happens in my stronghold which I do not know of?”

  She looked around at the company he kept. She saw where all of his followers fell on the scale. Most were courtiers, politicians whose bark was always worse than their bite. How empowering, she thought, that their words finally had some teeth to them. They probably would have signed up for this transformation willingly in order to invade the Haidra kingdom. There were also some soldiers, those of the lower orders who were easy to control and hungry to move up the ranks.

  She squared her shoulders. “There was a dish which was served on your wedding night by Cook Bolstad—”

  “That traitor has been dealt with,” he replied.

  How could he have known Cook Bolstad was the traitor, she wondered? Cook Bolstad was the one who instructed her to gather the mushrooms and his book was hidden beneath the flagstone. She had told no one save Lars, who had been trapped in the swamp for the past two and a half months.

  “He had a book with a cure,” she continued. “It was the black mushrooms with the white flecks which caused this transformation. White mushrooms with black flecks will change everyone back again.”

  “I learned the same from him!” said Lord Arnkell. “As I have promised my followers, the white mushrooms with the black flecks shall be our redemption!”

  And it was in that moment that Aein knew for certain he was a liar. The veil lifted from her eyes. This man she had swooned for. This hero she had worshiped and admired. He was lying. The berry cure was in her shirt, but she’d be damned if she healed any of his army just so that they could follow him easier.

  “I found none in the swamp,” she stated.

  Lord Arnkell nodded with sadness, but she knew enough truth to see that it was a mockery. “That is because they do not grow in the swamp,” he replied.

  “Then where do they grow?” she asked.

  “On the Haidra lands! On the lands of my enemies! My bride brought those cursed mushrooms with her to my wedding feast, and the cure is there, too! If they will not give it to us, we shall take it!”

  His plan came into crystal clear focus for Aein. He was responsible for all of the murder and destruction. Cook Bolstad had said he was a bad man. She thought it was why Cook Bolstad had taken it upon himself to poison the stronghold. Now she understood that Lord Arnkell forced Cook Bolstad to prepare the dish and that this, all of this, was so that he could declare war upon the Haidra stronghold. What better way to invade a neighboring kingdom than with an army of werewolves?

  He motioned to a man to bring forward a silver breastplate. He turned back towards her. “I would have you back in my service…”

  “I cannot,” she stammered. “I must continue my search for the mushrooms.”

  He cut her off. “You refuse to take on the yoke of service? To obey the commands of your sworn lord?”

  There was menace in that statement. She realized it would take very clever thinking to stay alive. She hoped the gods would forgive her lies. That they would look upon this moment and see that her lord was a tyrant, not a protector, and that by foreswearing her allegiance, she was refusing to serve one who would harm his own people.

  �
�I must find the cure…”

  “You must find the cure? We are going to the Haidra lands to seize the cure!” he stated. “Unless, of course, you are in league with those who want us to remain in this form forever.”

  “What?” she asked. The werewolves around Lord Arnkell began to growl.

  “Are you a collaborator with Princess Gisla?”

  “What?”

  “We know you are a deserter. We know that you are weak minded and abandoned your friend to the border…”

  “You left him for dead! I warned you and you did not even send reinforcements!”

  And that was when Aein realized she had overstepped and fallen directly into the confession Lord Arnkell was looking for.

  “Tie her to that tree!” he called.

  “What are you doing?” she cried as two men stepped forward and grabbed her elbows, frog-marching her to the trunk. She shouted at Lord Arnkell, hoping someone would hear her. “You were the one who commanded Cook Bolstad to make that dish! You were the one who tricked me into bringing the mushrooms back!”

  “Gag her and cut out her tongue if she utters another word!”

  Aein clamped her mouth shut. She knew that he was not lying. He turned back to his army of man and beasts. “This was a curse brought down upon us by the Haidra household and I have captured the Haidra bitch!” He went over and kicked one of the female werewolves in the ribs. The animal whimpered. “I shall deliver her and all her minions of evil sent to her father’s door. He shall see what hell he unleashed. We shall take over his lands and his people and WE shall reign!”

  The men and women around him raised their swords with cries of lust.

  Lord Arnkell turned back to Aein. “And you my dear? There is a pack of unharnessed werewolves coming for you right now. I told those traitors you would be here. I told them to come and find you, that you, my pretty warrior-girl, would have a cure for them. We shall just leave you here until the dawn, for before sunrise, my girl, you shall feed their pretty bellies.” He turned back to his crew. “A fitting end for the traitor who brought the curse down upon us!”