| |
She walked Lars back towards the central camp. The fog enveloped them the moment they stepped off the hill. Lars's knees buckled, but she pushed on, trying to get him to lean on her for support. She had no idea how he held up against this mental assault for all these months. She would not allow herself to grunt even when he stumbled and all his weight fell on her. It was as if now that she was here, any strength reserve, any resources he had been drawing upon, were empty. He could no longer fight. And her heart broke all over again. It was worse than if he had been killed. He had been here all this time, hoping she would come for him, thinking himself abandoned, slowly going mad in the fog. She would not have wished such a fate on her worst enemy.
As his legs went out under him again and he did not even try to rise, she lifted him up and helped him onto her horse. Her animal turned his head and nudged him, as if understanding the dire nature of this situation. Did she imagine that her horse even stepped a little softer so as not to jostle her rider? Lars hung heavily upon the horse's neck, slumped in the saddle, unable or unwilling to rise.
They arrived in the camp. She could see that Lars had long since stopped caring about keeping it neat and tidy. This was the living space of a man who did not expect to survive to see the next day. Why worry about disposing of rotting food and human sick when one expected to die in the night?
Fortunately, though, she saw he had taken care of his horse. Perhaps it was having a creature dependent upon him which caused Lars to fight. Aein went through and looked for anything of value they should take with them. There was an ax for cutting trees. There was Lars' weaponry. He had left his steel sword and chainmail to rust in the elements. Something was better than nothing, she thought, and packed it anyway.
His bedding and clothing was ripped and soiled to the point of being unusable. She rested with her hands on her hips and glanced over at Lars. He had not moved from his position on her horse. If he was a werewolf, then perhaps he no longer needed such things as beds and blankets. They would have to figure it out later, she realized.
"We can't leave our post until the replacements arrive..." he murmured.
"There are no replacements," she explained back. "The stronghold has fallen and we have lost the border."
He did not say anything else for a while. And then softly he repeated again, "We can't leave our post until the replacements arrive..."
"They aren't—"
"We must stay at our post until the replacements arrive!"
Aein realized that he no longer understood what he was saying, that the words coming out of his mouth were the words that had been looping in his brain since she left.
"We're going to meet them," Aein lied. "We have a new rendezvous point and I was told to bring you with me."
He seemed to calm down. "We have to meet our replacements..."
"That's right," she soothed. "I am just going to finish packing and then we are going to meet the replacements."
He finally stilled. She went over to his horse, who shied away from her at first. He had forgotten what it meant to have a rider. And who knew what tricks the fog had been playing on his mind. She told herself that she would just get him out of the swamp and then worry about gentling him. If they could just make their way north, everything would sort itself out.
It was then that she heard a sound. The way the horse flicked his head up and down made Aein know she wasn't hearing things. This wasn't just the mist playing tricks on her. Aein took out her sword and scanned the fog in the direction of the noise.
A black dog-like shape emerged from the gray. Aein planted her feet and prepared for the attack. But the wolf did not come after her. Instead, he sat down before her and gave a soft whine.
For the first time since they parted, the smallest glimmer of happiness found its way into her chest. She lowered her sword. "Finn?" she whispered.
"Kill it," murmured Lars. "Before it kills us..."
"He is one of Lord Arnkell's new hounds," she lied again. "He was sent here to lead us to the rendezvous."
"Oh..." was the only response from Lars.
Finn stood and stared into the fog. He looked back again at Aein and whined again.
"We have to get out of here, don't we?" she said, fearfully. "Something is coming."
Finn gave a sharp bark and took a few steps forward. He barked again, as if urging her to follow.
She ran back to the other horse. It didn't matter what they packed or didn't pack if they didn't make it out alive. She grabbed it by the reins and, resentfully, the horse followed. She tied him to her own horse and led the two away from the camp.
Finn kept running back to her and then running forward. He'd then wait for a few minutes before running back again and repeating the process.
"I would go faster if I could," she hissed, "but I have a feral horse and an injured man."
It didn't stop Finn from urging her on. She quickened her pace to a jog to keep moving faster. Finally, she looked back at the two horses and knew something had to be done. She would just ride double with Lars and take frequent breaks.
Just as she walked over to the horse, though, there was a low growl which came from the mist. She looked over at Finn. His hackles were raised and his hair stood on end.
"They found us," said Aein. She pulled out her sword. She also pulled out Lars's sword and put it in his hand. She stroked his cheek and said, "We have to fight."
His eyes opened. He did not seem to comprehend what she was saying, but his hand gripped onto the sword.
"We are about to fall under attack," she said again. "We must defend our post."
This made him sit up. The madness was still upon his face, but she realized it was the madness of someone willing to fight to the death, in fact, hoping for death.
She looked forward and the werewolves came out of the haze. These monsters did not sport the silver harnesses that were on the creatures in the camp. There was nothing controlling them. She swung her sword in two hands before her and growled right back at them. She was just as willing to tear them limb from limb as they were willing to take her down.
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 leaped 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.