Chapter Thirty-Nine
Eldrick
The sun rose over the Drengr Village, chasing the remnants of the latest blizzard with its morning rays. Songbirds washed in the puddles left by dripping icicles, and snow melted off the trees, pine needles free from tufts of white.
Eldrick’s breath still plumed in the air, and he’d bundled in a fur-lined cloak and gloves for his journey south to meet with Alpha Drabek. He prepared his horse for a week’s journey, though he hoped to arrive there in two days’ time, if the sun stuck around and no storms stalled his travels.
“Fine day for a ride.” Bétar entered the stables, beaming. His horse stood at the ready. Saddle packed. Blankets rolled. Swords and axes sheathed.
“Indeed,” Eldrick said, spying Lucy hurrying from the Shield-maiden. He walked his horse out of the stables to meet her. “Good morning, Luc— Moons, what is wrong?”
Panic bled across her expression. Eldrick’s hackles rose, and he listened to the morning activity, but nothing suggested an attack.
“It’s the grain stores.” Lucy’s voice shook. “More than half was destroyed.”
Eldrick’s wolf howled, and his jaw pulsed. “Show me.”
Lucy led him and Bétar to the storage house. A crowd had gathered, circling upturned sacks of grain. Eldrick squatted and inspected them. He sniffed and detected a musty scent.
“Mold?” Confusion rippled through him. “In the dead of winter?”
Bétar reached inside a sack and pulled out a damp cloth. Spores dotted the fabric. The Commander reached further into the grain, a frown creasing his beard.
“It’s damp at the bottom,” he said.
“Look.”
A pack member pointed, and Eldrick rose from his haunches and followed their line of sight. In the corner, a dormant fire scorched the center of the storehouse, not large enough to cause damage, but enough to warm the inside and encourage the mold’s growth.
“Moons,” Eldrick hissed. “Who would tamper with our grain stores?”
Yet, as he asked the answer dawned on him like a punch to the gut—Bjorn.
He’ll fight dirty, so you need to be prepared.
Sam’s warning filtered into the back of Eldrick’s mind.
A dozen eyes settled on him, and his skin crawled.
He didn’t feel equipped for this. He’d not trained for it either.
Protecting his pack against demons and scáths.
Meeting with the alphas and discussing strategy.
Stripping his father of his title was one thing, but a blatant assault against the Drengrs?
Bjron had robbed his pack of food midwinter—or worse, poisoned someone if they hadn’t been wiser of the stench.
There was no telling if this cold would linger for longer with the Void spreading, too.
Eldrick’s wolf raged. Though, wasn’t that what Bjorn wanted? The alpha knew Eldrick cared for his pack, so he’d hurt him where it mattered.
He turned to a set of warriors in the crowd. “Do any of you man the gates?”
“Aye, Alpha.” One nodded.
“Did you see Alpha Bjorn leave?” Eldrick asked.
“Two days ago,” the werewolf said. “With his entire party along with him.”
Bétar approached. “Which means he left before the storm.”
“And if he or anyone in his pack planted this, no one would’ve taken notice during the blizzard.” Eldrick shook his head, a growl working its way up his throat.
“The stores won’t last the winter. We’ll have to trade with another pack.”
“But who?” Lucy said.
“Thorn.” Eldrick scoffed, tongue bitter.
The pack’s village sat northeast, closest to the continent’s river where the central plains rolled into the Vadon Mountains.
The valley-like terrain created more suitable farmland, allowing Thorn to sustain his pack’s wealth by growing wheat and barley.
Yet, Thorn territory was in the opposite direction of Eldrick’s original plan and a much harder vote to win.
“Bjorn is leading me away from Drabek,” Eldrick said, keeping his voice calm while his wolf paced inside his blood, anything but.
Eldrick itched to pinch the bridge of his nose, to lay a hand on the hilt of his axe for comfort, or to release a bottled-up howl, but expectant stares landed on him from all angles. His pack looked to him for strength and balance. How he responded to Bjorn’s assault set the tone for his pack.
He swallowed his anger, suppressed his worry. Lead, Eldrick’s inner voice said, stern and unbending, while a selfish part of him ached to prove where he stood was right. That his heart beat for his homeland and pack.
“Bjorn knows Drabek is the vote to win, so he’s either stalling me or attempting to get to her first,” he said.
Bétar’s eyes widened. “Stars above, the bastard. What will you do?”
Think, Eldrick thought. Cold blustered through the storehouse.
Gray clouds hovered on the horizon. If winter continued to rage across the mountains, they couldn’t rely on hunting.
Game would retreat and become scarcer and harder to hunt.
Frost delayed the harvest, too. Grain fed his pack, and it didn’t matter if he won the Earl vote if they were hungry and weak.
“I’ll ride north and meet with Alpha Thorn,” he said and marched out of the storehouse to hide his frustration, heading towards his horse.
Ice crunched under Bétar’s boots as he followed close behind. “What about our journey south?”
“I have to feed the pack, Bétar. The pack comes before the vote. The Drengrs matter most in times like these.” Eldrick reached his horse.
He checked it twice over, making sure he was prepared for an extra few days of travel.
“I’ll make the most of my time with Thorn, convince him to vote for me as well as barter for the grain.
While I’m gone, I leave the village under your command—“
Bétar gripped Eldrick’s arm, halting him in place. “No. I can’t let you go alone. Moons, what if Bjorn has set you up to do exactly that? It is too dangerous for you to travel alone. No witnesses or help? You’re risking your life.”
Eldrick paused. Bjorn had been scouting for someone that morning when he’d walked the forest with Tovi.
Stars above, the thought of her left him off-kilter.
Rattled. He blinked, and a gut-wrenching scene played through his mind.
In the late hours of the night, they discussed all their worries, fears, and hopes in the comfort of each other’s arms. His body craved her presence at his side, a teammate to navigate this with.
We have our own paths in this, he’d said as they’d parted ways as alpha and queen. What he envisioned was fantasy, and he’d chosen the silvery ink tattooed up his arm, and when he earned the Earl vote, the rightness of his decision would finally settle over him like the magic of his new title.
“I can’t leave the Drengr Village undefended,” Eldrick said.
“Bjorn has already struck where he knew it hurt the worst—my pack. He knows I’ll leave no matter the course, but what if it’s an undefended village he wants?
We know he’s threatened Thorn and prepared his entire pack to fight. If he returns—“
“We’ll face him if need be,” Lucy said, with hands on her hips.
She pointed down the street at her warrior shield wedged into the glinting morning light.
“You forget I once held the title of Commander for forty years. I know how to protect my pack—from scáths, demons, or a bloody bastard like Bjorn if I must. You’ll do what you need, and the village will stand upon your return, alpha. ”
Agreement rumbled through the crowd that had gathered. Arms folded. Brows set. Committal nods. Eldrick inhaled his pack’s unwavering strength. Perhaps it wasn’t only him who had to embody it, but a resiliency that passed through each of them.
“Aye, what do you say, Eldrick? It’s a fine day for a ride after all.” Bétar winked.
Several hours later, with a sodden ass stuck to his saddle, Eldrick shivered under the spilling rain. “Your words jinxed us, Bétar.”
The Commander’s cloak clung to his red hair, and his beard dripped with water. “Don’t blame me; there’s a much darker force in charge of this.”
As if to fuel Bétar’s assessment, berry-sized hail joined the rain, dinging off their horses, rigid exteriors, and weapons.
Though Eldrick thrummed with the promise of his plan, the weather unsettled his inner wolf.
This winter was proving harsher and longer than most. Branches were bare of saplings.
Ferns dotted the forest floor in their dormant brown, fronds naked of leaves.
Under Eldrick’s horse’s hooves, the land remained hardened with the cold, deep under the mud of today’s rainstorm.
He’d read the paper, heard the accounts, witnessed the darkness spreading, but to feel it was an entirely different matter.
Eldrick’s blood now coursed with alpha magic.
His connection to the land was like an oak’s roots—deep, sprawling, and strong.
The darkness’s presence touched wherever it spread, much like the mold that’d ruined his pack’s grain.
It was a disease, infectious. In times like these, when the symptoms poured over Eldrick and chilled him deep to his bones, he questioned his efforts in breaking the curse. Was he doing enough?
The rain slowed to a drizzle, and ahead, lanterns dotted the wall surrounding Thorn Village. Patrols sounded their horns, and Eldrick held up his hand in greeting. He and Bétar slowed their horses at the gate.
“Good evening to ya both.” A young werewolf Eldrick recognized—Erik, one of the werewolves they’d saved in Drystan—appeared at the wall. “What business are you here for?”
Eldrick dropped back his hood, letting the rain kiss his revealed face.
The young werewolf’s face split into a grin. “Eldrick, or should I say, Alpha Drengr, it’s good to see you. Let them in!”