He danced away from the second swat and settled back onto his nearly stuffing-less pillow in a lonely corner of the room where he'd left his lute. The Bruiser Trio had escorted him down to dinner then promptly abandoned him. Pretty much everyone had kept a healthy distance all through the meal, though they didn't try to hide the sidelong stares and suspicious whispers
He was a stranger. One with an agenda and an unknown past. Phelan wasn't surprised to find himself shunned and ignored.
Which was fine with him, for the moment.
For now, he took the time to sit back and observe. To search out the weaknesses and frailties in the group. The places where a little leverage might pop free the secrets Phelan knew simmered just beneath the surface of this ragtag band. He filed away each interaction and observation as his attention drifted from group to group.
It didn't take him long to notice the tension between Selena and Arun's girl, though Arun seemed oblivious. In fact, here, in the sanctuary of his makeshift home and family, Arun's posture was relaxed and loose.
At the inn and in battle, Arun had been aware and ready. Not overstrung, the way Nis had been, but prepared. The laxity surprised Phelan here. Home didn't always mean safe. Especially if you were squatting in disputed territory and considered outlaws.
It was another thing for Phelan to worry about in his quest to protect the wellspring.
First, though, he had to find the shrine.
After dinner, he cradled his lute and began strumming quietly, waiting to catch the attention of those near him. Once a couple of people paused to listen, Phelan started singing, raising the volume little by little as the circle grew into a dozen or so.
While he played to the small group gathered around him, he kept watch, noting the habits and routine. Selena tried to help with the clean up only to be shooed away by Omal. Nis joined a handful of others in a raucous game involving dice. Anes and Chel sat at the edge of his audience, suspicious and watchful at first, but soon they were requesting songs and singing along with the rest. Arun, with Mora by his side, meandered through the various groups that had formed, touching and talking to everyone. Maybe there was hope for his leadership yet. At some point, Selena slipped quietly out of the room.
Phelan continued to play, scooting closer to the fire once the dinner's remains had been cleared. Eventually, people started peeling away in ones and twos to head for their beds. When the room was half-empty, he stood up, stretched and yawned with a little exaggeration.
He wasn't surprised when Anes rose and followed him up the stairs. He was surprised, however, that the bruiser smiled, gave him a friendly pat and thanked him for the best entertainment they'd had in a while. Still, he watched from the hall until Phelan shut himself in his room. And, like that morning, Anes only closed his own door part way when he retired to his own room.
Phelan smirked and settled down on his roll, hands tucked behind his head, to wait.
Less than hour later, Nis and Chel were in their rooms, doors cracked as well. The dissonance of their snoring would have kept Phelan awake— if he had any intention of sleeping.
He waited a little longer, letting the sounds of sleep get deeper and smoother before getting up and carefully opening his door. When the rhythm didn't change, he stepped back and called the Hound.
Phelan's eyes unfocused, the air around him fogging white. His insides prickled and ached until he fully inhabited his other form. After stretching out to test each muscle, he gave a satisfied shake and nosed his way out of the door before his white fur settled.
Silently padding down the hall, Phelan rolled his eyes at the woeful attempts at safeguarding the outpost. How had this ridiculous little group not been devoured by real outlaws or the authorities already?
When he got to the stairwell, he didn't even consider going up. If the spring was inside the building, it would be on the first floor. Or in the basement, if there was one.
Much of the first floor was the taken up by the room where they'd eaten dinner. Unfortunately, Omal was still puttering around the fireplace, hanging up pots on the wrought iron hooks. Phelan shrank back into the shadow of the stairs when she paused with a lid in her hand and glared around the room. After a moment, she frowned and returned to her tidying.
As soon as her back was turned, he slunk out of the shadows and looked for the quickest escape. The door to the back garden was open, and the Hound darted outside on silent paws. He'd have to search the dining hall later. If Omal ever slept.
The scent of metal and roses, fresh and tantalizing, told him immediately that the garden wasn't empty, either. Selena was somewhere nearby. Darting behind produce laden bushes, Phelan slipped through beds of vegetables. Eventually, the carefully tended plants gave way to wild overgrowth and the remains of crumbling stone benches and old statuary. He moved silently toward Selena's scent and the murmur of conversation. As he got closer, Phelan recognized Arun's iron and leather scent and strained to hear the words.
"...there were some dispatches in the caravan."
Arun sounded tense and much more anxious than he'd looked in the dining hall earlier. Was his nonchalance at dinner a facade? What was he hiding from his own people?
"Anything we can use?"
"I don't know, yet. They're coded. A different one than we've seen before. I haven't had much time to alone to see if I can decipher it."
"If they've changed the codes their using, do you think he..." Selena's voice trembled and she paused. Phelan wished he could see her face. Wanted to ease her distress and offer her comfort. "Do you think they know it's us?"
"If he knew it was us, he wouldn't bother changing the codes. He'd already be on our doorstep before we ever saw it coming."
Why were they looking for dispatches rather than money? How did they know at least some of the codes used by the Marnak military? Who was it they were so afraid of? And why were they in danger of someone coming after them?
Phelan found himself with even more questions about the twins.
Hearing the tremor in Selena's normally steely voice tugged at the protective nature he'd spent years burying. It made him want to dive into the mystery, to figure it out so he could protect her from whatever it was she feared.
The more realistic part of him knew she would gut him for presuming she needed a defender.
And the pragmatic, callous spy he'd become reminded him they weren't his problem at all. His mission was to find and secure the well. Even if it meant destroying the wellspring, so Hafgan never got his hands on its power.
Phelan continued to listen, but the conversation drifted into training and patrol details until Arun eventually went back inside the outpost. Selena, however, settled onto the stone bench outside with a soft sigh. She'd changed out of the dark leather fighting gear, and, despite the breeches and second-hand man's shirt, it made her look softer. After having seen her fight, though, Phelan wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating her.
Her head tilted back, baring the long, pale column of her throat as she stared up at the half-lit moon. Her breath hitched though no tears appeared and her bearing remained unbowed. Still, an aura of melancholy permeated the air around her.
He should walk away. Continue his search for the well. But leaving her alone to her sorrow seemed impossible. Revealing the Hound was risky, but Phelan's instincts overruled his common sense.
The Hound rolled in the dirt, thoroughly darkening his fur with dust and debris. Then he slunk out of the shadows, careful to let his claws click on an occasional stone and his tale brush against a plant or two.
At the first sound, Selena tensed, and her gaze scanned the garden, unerringly landing on him a heartbeat later.
She blinked like she was trying to clear an illusion from her eyes. Phelan supposed he couldn't blame her. It wasn't every day a dog the size of a small pony appeared in the middle of nowhere.
But she smiled. A soft, affectionate expression unlike anything he'd seen from her in his
human form and Phelan knew he wouldn't be able to resist coming back for more.
"Hey, pup. Where did you come from?"
Phelan paused for a moment in surprise. The Hound came up past waist-high on most men, with a solid mass of muscle to fill out his frame. Grown men cowered at his appearance. He hadn't been called a pup in a long, long time.
Yet the soft affection of the endearment tugged him forward. And when Selena held out her fingers with no hesitation at all he gave them only a perfunctory sniff before nudging his nose under them. A practiced flick of his head and Selena's hand landed between his ears.
"Not subtle at all, pup," she said with a laugh, already digging in to scratch the delicate, sensitive spot on the top of his head. "But I've got a few minutes to spare."
For those few minutes, the rest of the world fell away. Selena's fingers slid through his matted fur with a soothing pattern. Phelan leaned heavily against her leg, letting the smooth patter of her voice roll over him without really hearing the words.
"...haven't seen you around before, so I don't think Eloise has been feeding you on the sly. You look too well fed to be stray really. I know we're not the only one's taking refuge in the borderlands up here. Did you wander off from one of the mercenary encampments? Maybe you belong to the farm Omal trades with for fresh eggs? Maybe I should bring you inside and see if she recognizes you, so we can get you home safe, huh?"
And suddenly what he was doing sent shivers through Phelan with a chill of foreboding. He couldn’t stay. He certainly couldn't follow her back into the outpost. Not without her wondering where the stray went in the morning. Or where Finn had disappeared to.
He stood abruptly, and her hand slid off him, to his disappointment. Ignoring the spark of regret, he nudged her knee one last time and darted into the shadows.
"Wait, pup..."
She called after him, surprise and frustration raising her voice, but he ignored her. Sliding along the wall, he found the back gate locked tight. He kept moving until he saw a crumbling patch large enough to squeeze through.
Knowing that staying put would test his willpower, the Hound trotted into the woods before he gave in to the urge to go back enjoy Selena's unconditional affection a little longer.
It didn't take him long, following his nose and his instincts, to find the path leading deeper into the forest. It wasn't obvious enough to suggest regular foot-traffic but worn enough that it wasn't overgrown with disuse.
He heard the burbling of flowing water long before he broke through the trees into the clearing that surrounded it. He saw the haphazard pile of stones poking up out of the earth first, but the fresh, cool scent drew him closer. The trickling spring, bubbling up from the rocky outcropping, spread out into a small pool hemmed in by the stone. The moonlight gave the water an ethereal glow and exposed the spirals and runes carved into the rocks.
There was no doubt in Phelan's mind that this was the wellspring Lia said would be here. He could feel a heightened buzz of energy and knew that if he switched back to his human form, he'd be able to use the magic of his Attribute to see the leylines pouring into it. As tempting as it was to stay and explore every inch of the shrine, now that he knew it was here, he needed to get back to the outpost before anyone realized he'd gone snooping on his first night.
Along the way, Phelan paid attention to the scents clinging to the trail and knew only a handful of people had passed recently. How many of them thought it was just a pretty spot to pass the time? And how many understood exactly what could be done with the power bubbling under the water's surface?
It didn't matter, either way. Phelan was there to make sure that magic was never exploited. Make sure Hafgan never had access to that kind of power. Make sure they put a stopped to his schemes so other families wouldn't suffer the way Phelan's had.
The garden was quiet when he snuck back in through the wall. Selena was gone, and Phelan refused to acknowledge the shard of disappointment that lodged in his heart.
Instead, he focused his frustration on the closed outpost door. He could transform back and open it as Phelan, but that would lead to way too many questions if he got caught. He needed to try to get in as the Hound first, save his human form as a last resort. Fortunately, like the one in his bedroom, the old wood of the door was swollen and made it impossible to close tightly. It took longer than he would have liked, and more noise than he was comfortable with, but the Hound eventually managed to get it open with nose and claw.
Inside the now dark dining room, Phelan paused to make sure his scratching hadn't woken anyone. Except for the sound of the single sentry continuing his circuit around the front of the building, though, the outpost was quiet.
Keeping to the shadows and carefully making each footfall silent, the Hound headed upstairs to his bedroom. He nudged the door shut with his nose before transforming back and crawling into the thin comfort of his bedroll.
-5-
SELENA stood with Arun and Nis in the front courtyard watching as some of the newer recruits practiced with staffs and sticks. Like many of the others now inhabiting the outpost, they'd started out as farmers or artisans. Natural born warriors they were not. Normally, their awkward flailing made her cringe, but, today, the progress was promising.
Finn was in the middle of them. Offering advice here, repositioning hands there. Bolstering confidence where it was needed with a soft word and encouraging smile. Or knocking back arrogance with hard taps, swift takedowns, and a superior smirk.
He'd been among them barely a week and already made a huge improvement in their training. And in morale.
Selena ground her teeth as she watched, irritated that he slid so easily into their world. That he seemed to know instinctively that complimenting Omal's cooking got him a spoon-slap but taking an interest in the garden got him an extra helping of desert. That silence and a gentle hand with the horses could make Eloise trust him rather than the jokes and boisterous personality that won over most of the rest of the outpost. Including Anes and Chel, who trailed behind wherever he went, like baby ducks imprinted on their mama.
Even Arun relaxed around him now, amused by his stories and intrigued by some of his techniques.
The most annoying thing was that he no longer complimented her on her smile or told her how beautiful she was. No more smirks or leers. She definitely didn't miss the casual pestering, but it had made it easier to stay irritated and wary of him when he deliberately provoked her.
Instead, he now commented on her form when training, praising a particularly skillful move or suggesting an improvement when her opponent got through her defense. Always delivered with soft, honest appraisal. It was most frustrating when he was right.
And when she offered him advice in return, he didn't hesitate to accept her assessment. He'd listen with genuine openness and try her suggestions without argument. It had taken her months, sometimes years, to earn that trust and respect from most of the other men at the outpost. And some still only gave it to her grudgingly.
It made it hard to remember he wasn't part of this. That he was a mercenary, only there long enough to collect his money then he'd be gone. That she couldn't trust him not to betray them all.
But Selena learned a long time ago that if something looked too good to be true, it probably was. And so, she watched, and she waited, and she refused to be charmed or to let her guard down. Even when, like now, he stripped off his shirt in deference to the heat, and she had a hard time tearing her eyes away from the flex and shift of his muscles under the scars.
She couldn't help wondering about the life and the secrets hiding behind the pale reminders of wounds past. And the physique honed to be a weapon first. Wide shoulders, thick muscle sculpted in perfect symmetry across a broad chest, strong arms, and flat stomach. It was not the body of a traveling minstrel. It was the lean, solid frame of a life accustomed to violence. Or someone intent on always being prepared for it.
Selena forced herself to look away,
to stop contemplating secrets she knew he'd never share with her. Just as she'd never share hers with Finn.
She looked to her side only to find Arun smirking at her.
With a roll of her eyes, Selena turned and ducked into the building and across the main hall before ducking back out into Omal's garden.
Beyond the carefully cultivated beds of vegetables and herbs, the rest of the courtyard remained wild and overgrown. She'd never admit it to Omal, but this was her favorite place in the compound. Untamed and beautiful in its chaos. Running over with life and refusing to be beaten by years of neglect. A metaphor for how she felt. The mostly intact bench staunchly refusing to give way to the encroaching vines that felled its brothers had been her refuge since they'd settled here. Back when it had been only Omal and a handful of others. The first group Selena and Arun had accidentally liberated from Hafgan's clutches. It had been in this courtyard where they'd decided the next time wouldn't be an accident.
Scrubbing a hand over her eyes, she ignored the constant fatigue that ate at her. Sleep had eluded her again, chased away by worry for her people. Fear of the past catching up with them. Hope and terror of what the future held. Constantly second guessing her choice to ignore the knowledge and skills she had. She could do more to protect and conceal the outpost. But at what cost? She'd sacrifice herself without thought, but it may not be only her to pay the price. Her heart pounded, remembering everything she'd learned. Everything she couldn't forget. Terrified she'd go too far and get sucked into the downward spiral that would destroy everything she sought to save.
She wouldn't risk it. Not until no other choice remained.
Pushing the dark thoughts away, she sat up straight and took a few centering breaths.
She usually didn't seek out this spot quite so early, and she knew it was unlikely the stray would wander in, but she couldn't help hoping. The dog had wandered in every night this week, and the soothing feel of his fur under her hands had chased away the worst of grim thoughts the past few nights. She could use a little of that peace now.
By Blood Betrayed (The Lost Shrines Book 3) Page 5
