Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I nudged Ben's arm as we followed our guide into the dense forest. "How many people around here know about you?"

"Only Dugal and Deor. And my aunt, of course."

"So you didn't put an ad in the paper advertising yourself?"

He grinned. "Not yet, but that's a tempting offer. I could thief all the cattle and sheep, and none would be the wiser."

"I couldn't allow that, old friend," Deor countered as he looked over his shoulder with his eyes twinkling. "Where would we get our supply of food?"

I lifted an eyebrow. "You do that?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Not for a couple of generations, though my grandsire told me tales of a midnight raid on the town in his youth with a few of his friends. He managed to pillage a prized turkey from Feormere's business before they were chased off. After that, Feormere kept guards at his business for half a century before he dared do without."

"Speaking of guards, why all the extra security?" Ben asked his old friend.

I noticed Deor's shoulders stiffened as he stared ahead of us. "The king demanded it," was the evasive reply.

"He's the reason for our impromptu visit," Ben mused as we continued down the path. "Is there any chance of convincing you to allow us an audience with him?"

Deor turned to face us and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but the king is very busy at present."

"Then perhaps you can help us out," Ben suggested as he looked over the werewolf. "We were making inquiries into a commotion that happened on a farm on the northern road. Apparently, something slipped into the barnyard and tried to cause a stampede."

Deor folded his arms over his chest. "I'm afraid I know nothing of this incident. I can tell you that none of our people have left the woods for a few days, so whatever caused the trouble is undoubtedly something else."

"How can you be so sure?" I wondered.

"Gasric is very strict about keeping anyone from disobeying the king and leaving the forest," Deor mused as he turned his face to one side. His lips tightened together and he furrowed his brow. "Perhaps too much so."

Ben lifted an eyebrow. "Who is this Gasric? I've never seen him or his men before."

"One of the mountain clans. They were chased down from their high peaks about five years ago by a large landslide that buried many of their caves under tons of rubble and Eall accepted them among our people."

"You don't sound too happy about that," I guessed.

Deor sighed. "I can't deny there's been tension between our people and theirs in the past. I've tried to bury the spear, especially as they've offered to protect our domain, but Gasric's brutish habits cause some consternation among our people."

"What happened between your clan and theirs?" I asked him.

A dark cloud settled on Deor's brow. "There's been a great deal of land wars between our clans for nearly two centuries, and their clan was very keen on fetching wood from the forest without heeding the natural ramifications."

"Meaning what?" I persisted.

"Meaning they would leave the dead that needed to be removed and take the finest of trees for the hearths in their halls."

"Did the townspeople not notice the sudden influx of werewolves?" Ben wondered.

Deor nodded. "They noticed. There were quite a few confrontations between Gasric's men and the farmers during the first few years, but they've been relatively behaving themselves since we gave them guard duties. I suppose it gives them something to do." He nodded to his right in a southerly direction. "But this is where we part. You're an old friend, Ben, but I can't stretch my king's orders beyond their limits."

I stood on my tiptoes and beheld the turnoff road. Deor had led us on a roundabout loop back to our starting position.

"There is one other matter that brought us here," Ben admitted as he folded his arms over his chest. "Have you ever heard of Ealdan?"

Deor chuckled. "I should. His tales are told at the bedsides of every pup in our clan."

My curiosity was piqued. "What kind of tales?"

He cocked his head to one side and stared up at the sky. "Most of the tales involve the Ealdan lurking in the darkness waiting for misbehaving young pups to wander into his domain. There were some older legends involving his having created the forest, of course, but he's mostly a haunter who keeps the pups in line." He dropped his attention to us. "Why are you asking about him?"

A crooked smile slipped onto Ben's lips. "Would you believe me if I told you a dead man told us to look for him?"

Deor stared at Ben as though he were insane before he closed his eyes and shook his head. "You get into the strangest of troubles, old friend. I wish I could help more with your search, but that's all I know about your questions."

Ben shook his head. "That's alright. We'll find our answers somehow. Take care."

"A moment," Deor interrupted just as we turned away. "I, too, have a question to ask you."

Ben lifted an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"How long have you been in the area?"

"Only since yesterday evening."

Deor's expression was tinged with disappointment. "I see. Then you may not have my answer any more than I have yours."

"An answer to what?" Ben asked him.

"To the strange lethargy that's come over many in my clan," Deor revealed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "They go to bed and awaken in a stupor of exhaustion so great that they're confined to bed for the better part of the day."

Ben cocked his head to one side. "Have you perhaps been suffering from a dearth of fog of late?"

"We have, the same as the rest of the area, but those afflicted haven't mentioned seeing any near them before or after their attack," he replied.

"And no marks? Especially on their throats?" Ben wondered.

Deor shook his head. "Not a mark on them."

Ben shook his head. "Then I wish I could say I have your answer, but I haven't heard anything like that in the general area. However, we'll keep our eyes and ears open in case it's happening in town."

Deor inclined his head. "That's all I can ask. May the moon shine her favor on you." His eyes settled on my left hand and a teasing smile graced his lips. "And may your days together be happy and full of pups."

Ben draped an arm over my shoulders and grinned at him. "I'll be sure to name one after you."

"As much as I would like to discuss the matter of guardianship, you had better use your horse's speed to get you home," Deor mused as he looked up at the sky. The clear heavens were now dotted with puffy clouds. "I feel a storm in my fur."

Ben smiled at him. "We'll have plenty of time to shop and reach Rookwood."

Deor shook his head. "This won't be any ordinary storm, my friend. There's an unease in the air that tells me this will be a rare trouble, much like you."

"Then we'll be sure to spur on our horse," Ben assured him as he bowed his head. "Good day, fur ball."

"Good day, troublemaker."

Ben led me out of the woods and onto the open road. Ferox stood not more than fifty yards away to our left.

I cast a side glance up at my companion as we walked toward the carriage. "‘One' of the pups?"

He shrugged. "I thought we might have one or two dozen." My eyes widened and my face drooped. He laughed. "No need to worry. One dozen will be enough for me."

"A dozen?" I repeated as we neared the carriage.

"I do have a lot of relatives who would be disappointed their names weren't passed down," he pointed out.

I choked on a laugh. "You mean like Aunt Dreda? What was her full name?"

His face wrinkled into uncertainty as we reached the vehicle and climbed aboard. "Prudence Etheldreda. We may perhaps have to make an exception for her and choose another variation of her name for one of our ‘pups.'"

Ferox's ears perked up and I grinned at the stead. "Don't tell me you want someone named after you." The horse bobbed his head. I threw up my arms and fell back against the seat. "I guess we'll have to have that many kids just to please-" I paused as something wet dropped onto my nose. A quick look above us told me the clouds had drifted closer to our position and one of the loose puffballs had dropped water on me.

Ben leaned forward to catch Ferox's eye. "To the store, Ferox, and quick as you dare without bashing us to pieces."

Ferox turned us around and galloped down the road. I held tight to the carriage and Ben held tight to me as we bounced toward town.

A question popped into my head at the mention of names. "So what's that name the other werewolves call Deor?"

"‘Blysa,'" Ben repeated for me. "The literal translation is ‘firebrand,' and it's the title given to the lieutenant and adviser to their king."

"Sounds important."

"Second to none below the king."

"Is the leader of the werewolves really a king?"

Ben nodded. "He may not rule over a very wide swath of land, but his influence in his domain is ironclad, as we saw for ourselves in how quickly we were spotted."

I glanced at the trees as we passed out of the thick of the forest and into the fields. "He must be tough to control someone like Gasric."

Ben pursed his lips as he stared ahead. "I hope so."

I lifted an eyebrow at him. "You smell trouble?"

"Merely tension, but it's mixing with the trouble already brewing in the fog," he told me. "I only hope our magics are powerful enough to stop the headwind that I feel is coming toward us."