Searching the Darkness (Erythleh Chronicles Book 2)

by Catherine Johnson

  "Elthrinn, I want you to stay close to me. Don't go to the hall without me. Don't go wandering around Cranak by yourself."

  "Why? What's wrong?" she demanded.

  Gorren's worry and sudden paranoia, for seemingly no reason, was out of character. He seemed reluctant to give her any reasons at first, but she held fast, and did not move. She kept his gaze, until he was the one to look away.

  "I have heard stories about your brother. He's a good General, fierce, and absolutely devoted to his men. The Littens fought stubbornly for many years. Many of your brother's men died in battle, but ultimately your brother won the war. His road to victory was genius, but it was hard on the Littens, as war always is. Athine is likely not to think highly of you."

  "I'd already arrived at that conclusion myself." None of this was answering her question. "You think she might mean to do me harm?"

  "I doubt she would be so bold, but she might not be averse to allowing you to be in harm's way. I don't want to take any chances."

  "That seems ridiculous."

  "Maybe, but indulge me, please, and have a care."

  Elthrinn regarded her husband a moment longer His complete seriousness persuaded her to agree, if not his reasoning. "Very well, I will."

  Gorren pulled her close, and tucked her more snugly against his side as they continued to wend their way home. They saw their visitors as soon as they caught sight of their cottage. Jorm and Ornef were sitting with their backs against the front door. Delban was sat inside the animal's pen with his back against the fence. At first, Elthrinn couldn't see what he was doing, but as they drew closer, she saw that he had one of the goats, Enryl - the one with the shorter horns - laid across his lap, and was petting the goat's head. Enryl was merrily chewing on a corner of Delban's tunic.

  "I thought you would all be at the tavern, or on your backs," Gorren greeted his friends.

  "We were," Ornef replied, without elaborating on which activity they'd all partaken in.

  Delban lifted his attention momentarily from the goat. "But then we decided that it would be cruel not to let Elf cook dinner for us, as she so badly wants to do."

  "She's not a slave to your stomachs."

  Elthrinn saw the joke in Delban's words, and she knew that Gorren did, too, behind the anger that always flashed first when his friends appeared to take her presence for granted. Elthrinn understood that doing so was part of a joke between them all, and she didn't mind. She liked that their cottage could be full of laughter, and kinship.

  "We know," Jorm assured Gorren as he pushed to his feet, and retrieved the parcel that he'd been leaning against. "But there's a weight of beef here that I think all of us can enjoy, and you know that Elf has far greater skill at cooking than any of us. It'd be shame to waste this meat on our poor talents."

  Gorren was smiling now, mollified more quickly than usual by the fact that his friends had at least contributed to their meal in some way. His friends smiled in return, knowing that there was no lingering offence, and moved out of the way to allow Gorren to open the door. Delban pushed Enryl off his lap, muttering softly all the while. Elthrinn wasn't sure whether the big man's attachment to their livestock was touching, or whether it was something she needed to put a stop to.

  Although her chest was tender, and became more sore as the evening wore on, Elthrinn found that it didn't truly hurt. As long as she kept her shirt loose over that area, she could stand it. The lack of overdress, and the loose fitting of her shift, did mean that she had to be careful when bending forwards, but Gorren's glare meant that anyone looking in her direction when she had cause to lean over something usually found a point of all-consuming interest on a far wall to stare at instead.

  After they'd eaten, and as they were starting to relax in front of the hearth with mugs of homebrewed ale, Gorren tended to her tattoo. He removed the muslin, wiped the grease away with a damp cloth, and then reapplied the salve with light strokes. It was almost too tender a moment for the company that they were sharing it with to witness, but his friends, all lolling on the hearth rug, paid them scant attention. When he was done, since she was settled in her chair, Elthrinn was able to keep the neck of her shirt hung low over her chest, without compromising her modesty.

  Gorren was barely settled in his own chair when Ornef spoke up. "We heard an interesting titbit of gossip whilst we were in the tavern."

  "Heard, or started?" Gorren asked pointedly.

  "Heard!" Delban exclaimed with mock offense.

  "It seems," Jorm interrupted gently, "That you're definitely married to Felthissian royalty now."

  Elthrinn tensed, wondering what his meaning was. Gorren caught her agitation.

  "By which you mean?"

  "Rumour has it that General Jorrell and the First Mother are to wed, at least as soon as she's done apologising to the blood drinkers for her brother's prejudice and hubris."

  Elthrinn relaxed in her chair, tilting the rocker with the toes of one foot, the other being tucked underneath her leg. When she glanced over, Gorren was looking her way, seemingly waiting for response.

  Elthrinn gave a one shouldered shrug. "It means little to me. My home is here." She meant every word, she only hoped that her contentment would last...

  Chapter Twenty

  For the first time since he'd faced the Barnoor, Gorren was considering the possibility of missing the annual gathering at Dythegg. He was standing at the door to his cottage, with his wife wrapped in his arms, tucked tightly against his body, and he couldn't think of a single reason that felt important enough to let her go.

  If he stayed, he wouldn't be able to run with the pack. He could run on another night, but he'd be alone, and it would be ill-advised to make any sort of kill whilst doing so. If he stayed, his father would be distinctly unimpressed. Not that his father had taken any interest in him at all since his return from the aborted war, but Gorren knew that the king would see the absence of his youngest son on this night as a grave sign of disrespect.

  But if he stayed, he could change, and spend pleasant hours in front of the fire enjoying Elthrinn's fingers working their way through his fur. Or he could stay in his human form, and they could pass the hours in even more mutually agreeable pursuits...

  Gorren hugged his wife a little more tightly, and prepared to let her go. The problems that it would cause if he didn't join the pack would have consequences for her as well as for him. It wasn't fair to Elthrinn to bring that down on her head for his own selfish contentment.

  The idea of Elthrinn joining him, even as far as the gathering, was out of the question. The snows had arrived in their customarily drastic style. Over the preceding week, enough snow had fallen that Gorren, even with his long stride, was struggling to walk through the drifts. Elthrinn had been almost totally housebound until the pathways had been cleared.

  Not to mention that the entire town would be naked.

  Gorren had no concerns that Elthrinn might see a sight that might lessen her appreciation of her husband, but he did find that he was jealous of her innocence; he wanted to keep it for his own. He knew very well, too, that being comfortable around him was a completely different matter to being comfortable around an entire town of people not wearing a stitch of clothing. As well as her Felthissian sense of propriety, Gorren knew that being present in town on this night would only highlight, yet again, the fact that Elthrinn was different to every other living person in the vicinity. Well, almost every other living person. Gorren wondered if Noridan would allow Athine to accompany him to watch the mass transformation.

  Elthrinn disentangled herself from his arms, and Gorren reluctantly let her go.

  "Be off with you." Elthrinn swatted his arm. "Anyone would think you didn't want to go."

  "I don't."

  "You don't mean that."

  "I do."

  "You don't." She gave him a gentle shove. "You'll regret it if you don't go."

  "I don't want to leave you on your own."

  "Why? I couldn't be saf
er. Everyone else in town will be with you."

  "Not everyone..." She had a point; every resident would be running with the pack. Every resident except his brother's woman. Gorren had had the questionable fortune to meet Athine, on several occasions. At no point had the woman made any likeable impression on Gorren. He could feel his hackles rising whenever she was near. She meant only bad news, he was sure.

  "I really don't think Athine is going to attack me, and if she does, it won't be tonight."

  "The snow won't dissuade her. She's Litten. They're used to worse weather than this."

  "As maybe, but she's also intelligent. If, and it's a big if, she wants to hurt me, she won't do it on a night when she's the only suspect for miles."

  "Still..." Gorren knew that Elthrinn didn't have any particular fondness for Athine, but he couldn't quite seem to convince her to his level of wariness.

  "Gorren, I can't believe I'm about to say this," Elthrinn paused, hardly able to speak for laughter that she was trying to keep inside, "But get naked, and get gone."

  Elthrinn gave in to the fit of giggles. Simply watching her laugh made Gorren smile. He made quick work of undressing, leaving his clothes folded in a neat pile on the bed. Then he made equally quick work of leaving. Being naked, and within touching distance of Elthrinn wasn't going to get him to the centre of town before Kwek.

  Once outside, he paused until he heard the sound of the key turning in the lock and the latch clicking into place. Only then did he set off walking towards the crowd that he could hear gathering.

  ~o0o~

  When he reached the edges of the crowd that had congregated in front of Cranak Hall, Gorren lifted his head, and scanned the faces until he found Jorm, Delban, and Ornef. He knew where his blood family were in the gathering, but he had no intention of standing with them. He pushed through the press of bodies until he was standing side by side with his chosen brothers.

  Getting to them took longer than he'd anticipated. There seemed to be a number of people who wanted to stop him so that they could pause to exchange a few words of greeting. Gorren had always found that most townsfolk allowed him to keep to himself. It wasn't that they wouldn't approach him because his heritage was royal, their society wasn't generally so deferential, but they respected his desire for privacy.

  Since his marriage to Elthrinn, however - particularly since Erkas' glory mission had failed - Gorren had found himself being drawn further into the community. He wasn't sure if it was because he was living in the town now, albeit on the edges, rather than behind the walls of the barracks, or the hall. Certainly his marriage to Elthrinn didn't seem to be any sort of barrier. The townsfolk seemed to be easing away from their natural distrust of outsiders, at least towards his wife. He'd seen Athine walk through town, and had watched people part around her as if the woman carried a plague. When he and Elthrinn walked though town, traders asked how they were, women complimented his wife on her hair, which was a high compliment in a culture whose members spent time completely covered in fur.

  When he was settled, Gorren allowed his animal senses to explore the crowd, which they could do more acutely than his eyes. To his eyes, he was in the midst of a mass of people; he could see individuals that he was looking for, but that was all. His senses gave him a much clearer picture. He felt his mother, his father, and his brother. He could feel that only Dorvern natives were present. Wherever Athine was, she wasn't here. That thought didn't give him as much comfort as he would have liked it to.

  Gorren felt the moment that the pack came together, the moment that everyone was present, a second before the king gave the call to change. He felt the moment that his father's paws hit the ground; his own were already planted in the snow. He felt his friends complete their transition, just as the king launched himself forwards. Gorren was only hampered from following by the weight of the bodies around him. As others completed their changing, the weight eased, the barrier gave way, and Gorren set off.

  As he always did, Gorren relished the stretch and strain of his muscles, the complete freedom of using his body in the way it was meant to be used. But his heart wasn't in the run. His strength and size, his natural way of physically being, meant that he was soon close to the front of the pack, but the foremost thought in his mind was still to turn tail, and head home.

  Gorren caught a hint of a scent, and felt the subtle shift in the dynamic around him as the king also caught it. Gorren kept with the flow of the pack, and decided that when the kill was made, during the melee that would follow, he would slip away. If he halted now, and refused to continue, it would be seen as a mark of grievous disrespect, an outright challenge. Gorren didn't want that burden; he only wanted to be home, holding Elthrinn.

  Gorren picked up on the pattering heartbeats of the herd of deer. He felt the vibrations like a complicated peal of bells, resounding through his body. He felt the crunching taps of their delicate hooves reverberate through the pads of his paws from the ground.

  And then he felt the leap, smelt the blood, was washed in satisfaction, as the king brought down the leading buck. The pack surged forward. Everyone was desperate to get a mouthful of meat, or at least a slip of blood.

  Gorren started to drop back. His friends slowed right along with him, unquestioningly following his lead. They knew. In the same sense of pack that kept the town bonded, Gorren knew they felt his need to be with his mate.

  And in knowing that, in embracing their knowing, in embracing his role in their consciousness, Gorren found his own sense of pack increased. So much so, that despite the frenzy in front of them, he knew that Noridan was no longer with the pack. His brother had completely dropped out of the pack mind, Gorren could no longer feel his aura, Noridan was gone.

  He'd been there at the beginning; Gorren had seen him. Noridan had been in the run; Gorren was sure of it. He took the presence of most of the pack for granted, but he'd been able to feel Noridan's frustrated anger that his little brother was faster than he. Noridan had thought that Gorren was alternately either showing off, or wasting his potential.

  But his brother wasn't present now.

  Gorren wheeled on his hind legs, and began to run. He could feel his friends, his pack, at his flanks and rear. He wasn't alone. He felt their support, and their shared concern, but he didn't care. He just needed to be home as soon as possible.

  The town was deserted. They ran through empty, silent streets. They crossed intermittent squares of pallid light from houses where children slept. The weak illumination threw the shadows into darker relief. It took an age, a lifetime, until his own home loomed into view. The door was shut, as he'd left it, but the house was not silent as he would have expected. Even over his own heaving breaths, over the thump of his paws, he could hear the noises of struggle: a crash as a pot shattered, a scream - cut off by the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

  Gorren couldn't operate the door lock in wolven form. He began to change mid-stride, something he'd become accustomed to doing in battle. The hand that grasped the handle of the door was bizarrely long-fingered, the knuckles obscenely large and strong, and tipped with sharp, curving claws. He was upright, but not as a man, he was a head taller than his human form, and had to dip his head as he barrelled into his home.

  He was barely aware of his brothers behind him. He was intent only on the man in front of him, the one pinning his wife, face down, over the kitchen table.

  Gorren heard Noridan's very human yelp as he tore him away from Elthrinn, and flung him across the room. He heard Elthrinn's scream, and dimly realised that he was the source of her new fear, but that was a matter to be dealt with later. Gorren advanced on his brother.

  Noridan had landed on his back, but he was stumbling to his feet. Gorren smelt his brother's blood. His claws had left bloody furrows in Noridan's shoulders. He felt no sympathy, no remorse, no hesitation. He went in for the kill.

  Noridan was in the process of trying to change, but he was not a soldier, he couldn't call his half form as quickly as Gorren
, he simply hadn't had enough practice.

  Gorren felt something slam into him, and found himself flying across the room. It wasn't the first time he'd been thrown by surprise. He twisted in mid-air, and managed to land on all fours, only glancing off the wall. He'd banged his ribs, knocked some of the breath out of his lungs, but there was no damage. He landed, facing instinctively in the direction of his attacker, and found his father facing him.

  Dorll was also in his half form. The king had been a soldier once. They circled each other, evaluating, looking for weaknesses. Gorren kept his breathing even, determined to give no hint of weakness. He tried to make his father edge out towards the door. The cottage was too small to fight in, and Gorren wanted to fight. He needed to fight, and he couldn't in such a contained a space.

  His father obviously also realised that their surroundings had limitations, and backed out through the open door. He wasn't retreating, only making room. His eyes never left Gorren's.