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She mounted her horse. Perhaps without a cart to pull, perhaps with only one rider to worry about, she could go faster than they had on their way here.
She paused for just a moment to look back at Lars. He lifted a single hand in farewell, his red hair shining as the pale fog passed between them and cut them off.
She wondered how on all the gods' earth she could be fast enough to get back to save him.
And that was when she heard the creature.
She heard his mighty paws upon the earth. She heard his snaps and snarls. She spurred her horse down the planked road, but it was right behind her. She peered into the grey mist, looking for him. She took her bow and arrow and fired where she thought she heard the sound. There was no indication she hit anything. At least she was leading him away from Lars, she told herself. And that was when she heard the cries of the men and she knew what was going on. She slowed her horse to a walk.
It was the fog.
It had captured all the sounds from the night before and decided to play them for her so she would know what she abandoned Lars to face. She heard the cries of the men who died, the echoes of the animal killing them. She heard all of their last moments, and then the fog began to play the sounds again. She spurred her horse into a faster gait, trying to keep herself calm.
Lars would have at least a month with the fog before reinforcements could arrive.
She pushed her horse to go even faster.
The swamp slowly faded to drier land. The trees with their dripping moss changed to trees with their summer fruit. And then the trees changed to the pines and evergreens and she knew she was getting close. She pushed her horse as much as she could without causing him to drop. It would do no good to kill him. But she cut the time in half, arriving at the stronghold in one week instead of two.
She hoped it would be fast enough.
The watch at the barbican was quick to admit her in. Word had obviously gotten around that she was headed for the border. For her to be back so soon was enough to cause anyone who knew of the eastlands worry. She leaped off her horse without a word of explanation to anyone and made straight to the petition room.
She was admitted into Lord Arnkell's presence almost immediately upon arrival. He wore a tunic of green velvet and a band of yellow-painted iron around his head. He was sitting on his carved wooden throne. Several advisors stood beside him in hushed conversation, which stopped the moment she strode into the room.
Despite the heavy news she carried, her traitorous heart still skipped a beat being in the same room with Lord Arnkell. It was the draw of him. There was some aura, some attraction, which made a person want to yield their power. Was the yearning love? Or just relief that finally there was someone strong enough to take this burden from her?
She bent down on one knee before him.
"Arise," he said, with a motion of his hand. His square jaw twitched beneath his stubble. "I received word from my lookouts you returned."
She stood. Their eyes connected, his light brown eyes to her dark ones.
"I come bearing terrible news," she said.
He sat forward in his throne as the entire room fell to absolute quiet. "Proceed."
"We arrived at the rendezvous point to discover the guards Johan and Whalter were dead. They were brutally killed by some sort of animal."
There was a murmur of shock that sped around the court.
Lord Arnkell silenced them with a single motion of his gloved hand. "We shall send our deepest sympathies to their families, but animal attacks are not unheard of and certainly not cause for one of my warriors to leave her post."
She wished Lars was here to explain it. "It was Lars's command, my lord. He stated the animal bites were unlike anything he had ever seen before. He stated he needs further reinforcements... that the border needs further reinforcements. He says that this is how it always begins when trouble crosses over. That we must prepare."
"And you? You saw these wounds."
She nodded. "Please. Lars is left guarding the border alone."
Lord Arnkell turned to an advisor. "Whom can we spare?"
"I shall check with the commander, my lord. We are at a skeleton crew, at best, having sent out our best men to secure the border posts prior to your upcoming nuptials."
Lord Arnkell sighed. "Very well. Do what you can." He looked at Aein severely. "I thought after watching your training that you were advanced enough to handle the challenges of the border. Evidently I was wrong, and that was my misjudgment. You are to stay here and take upon the duties of whomever we have to pull in order to handle this issue you have created."
His sideways rebuke hit her like a blow to the stomach. She had obeyed her commanding officer's orders. She had come to report a grave danger. "My lord..." she stammered. "I only came to warn you of a serious threat to this stronghold and its people."
"There is no threat to the stronghold and its people. There was an animal attack and you left your post."
"That is not... Let me go back and serve my time with Lars," she begged, wanting somehow to make this right.
"You allowed the madness of the fog to affect you. It is not your fault. Lars has been commanded to the border too many times for a single man in a year. We were all aware of the dangers. I am sure he convinced you of his logic. I had hoped with a partner such as yourself, he would have had the strength to stay sane. You were obviously not strong enough. As soon as Princess Gisla brings her father's battalion, we will all have some relief. But that has not happened yet, so we must do what we must. Now, you are dismissed," he said, not giving her another glance. "Send in the next petitioner."
Aein closed her mouth with a snap and stood, walking backward out of the room. The doors closed in her face as she stepped outside the room and she felt her embarrassment tighten in her chest. Lord Arnkell had been watching her. He had noticed. He thought her well beyond her years and capacity... and she had failed him. She felt her face burning with red shame. If she looked in a mirror, she was sure she would be as bright as Lars after too much time in the sun.
She walked back to her room and found the few belongings she carried back with her upon her bed, including the bag full of mushrooms for Cook Bolstad. She wiped her nose and the hot, angry tears from her cheeks. Perhaps he would be happy to see her, she thought. Perhaps once he saw the mushrooms, she would feel like she managed to do one thing right. She grabbed the sack and made her way down into the kitchen.
It was like no time had passed in the three weeks she had been gone. Cook Bolstad looked up in shock, though. He seemed to want to run to her, but stopped himself. They always had a connection and she could see him processing her appearance. She willed him to stay back. Any show of kindness and she would lose control. She'd be known as the Weepy Warrior of Arnkell. She could not lose any more face in front of the people of the stronghold.
With great relief, he put on a mask of indifference and went back to his cooking. "Back so soon?"
"I could not bear to be away from you," she replied, not quite able to meet his yet. She plopped the bag onto the counter. "Plus, I could hardly wait to get rid of these."
He came over cautiously and opened the bag. Upon seeing the contents, Aein was sure she saw tears prickle in his eyes. They were two of a kind.
"You found them," he whispered. "Oh, Aein..."
"You're welcome."
The grumpy man came over and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her firmly on the temple. "I am very glad to see you, I am. Truly." He parted them, holding her out at arm's length. "Now," he said, "tell me all about your experience on the border."
"It was awful," she replied. She pointed at the sack. "You had better appreciate those because Lord Arnkell says I will never be going back."
"One should never say never," he replied.
"I feel fairly confident that 'never' is not going to be long enough for him... not after he said..."
Cook Bolstad took the mushrooms into the larder, pretending not to notice as she wiped away a tear that accidentally slipped out. She could hear him slide back the flagstone and place them inside. They were precious indeed. He returned and rinsed the dust off his hands before going back to his cooking. He handed Aein a mallet and a piece of chicken to pound flat. He knew just what to do to make her feel better. After a few minutes, he came over to inspect her handiwork.
"It will be the thinnest, most tender chicken fillet the stronghold has ever bitten into. Unfortunately, Lord Arnkell will be dining tonight on a stringy, old rooster I've been saving just for such an occasion," he said with a wink.
Aein handed him the mallet. "Thank you."
"You are home," he replied, unable to keep from pressing a kiss upon her head. "You are home safe, you smell worse than a horse, and I could not be happier."