Empire of Night (28 page)

M
oria fell from the tree, branches lashing her legs. When she passed Daigo, he let out a yowling cry and snapped at her, as if he could grab her tunic and haul her back up.

She hit the ground, one foot squarely down, the other twisting as she dropped to her knee. Pain shot through her. Something touched her hand, startling her, and she jumped, only to feel a warm hand wrap around her wrist.

“Don't move,” Tyrus whispered.

She turned to see him. He lay behind her on his back. Blood soaked one sleeve. One leg of his trousers was shredded, more blood below. When the cloud cover thinned, she could see half his face wore a red mask of blood. She bit back a gasp and reached for him, but he tightened his grip on her wrist.

“Don't move.”

He was propped up on his elbow, one hand gripping her,
the other slowly pulling his sword. Red eyes and shadows circled them, some so close she could reach out and grab them.

Grab what? A shadow?

That was all they were now. Shadows and eyes. Watching and waiting.

There were so many. Had she truly banished any?

She had. She must have. That's why the rest were staying back.

“Reach down with your free hand,” he said. “Carefully. Toward me.”

She did, and he directed her until she felt the cool handle of her dagger. She pulled it to her. At a chirp overhead, she looked up to see Daigo on the lowest branch, his tail twitching as his gaze swung from her to the fiend dogs.

“You'll use your powers to hold them back,” Tyrus said. “And we'll get out of the forest. Lord Okami's warriors will be there.”

And what will
they
do? We can't fight these things. My powers can barely—

“You're going to hold them back.” He met her gaze and held it, his voice low and strong. “Just keep them at bay.”

It might work; it might not. But it was the only chance they had, so that was what they'd do, and she must believe it would work, because if she didn't, they had no chance at all.

She nodded. Tyrus pushed to his feet. One of the fiend dogs charged him. Moria slashed out with her dagger, knowing even as she did that steel couldn't cut shadow. But the beast still fell back, snarling. When it did, she saw fangs and a snout, the shadow taking form, and she started to look away—

No. She'd already seen them. If she was doomed, she was doomed, but if she cowered and looked away, then she'd have no chance. Fear would kill her.

Moria took a deep breath and met the beast's red eyes. It stared back at her, growling, lips curling, and slowly it took the form of a giant dog. A giant hound. A black Tova.

Except you aren't Tova. He was a great warrior. You were a coward. He is honored. You are damned.

The fiend dog snarled, as if she'd spoken aloud.

I don't fear you. You are but a spirit. I'll send you back from where you came.

She focused her power and the beast began to fade. Before it vanished, though, another one lunged and broke her concentration. She let out a snarl of her own.

“Don't try to banish them,” Tyrus said. “It puts your focus on one. Just hold them back. Daigo?”

The wildcat leaped down beside them. The fiend dogs grumbled and paced, but none moved forward.

“This way,” Tyrus said, nudging her.

She started walking with the young warrior and the wildcat flanking her. She focused on keeping the fiend dogs back, but as soon as she began moving, the beasts did, too, as if freed from a spell. They snapped and lunged, getting ever closer despite her efforts, until Tyrus hissed in pain as one caught his leg, biting him and then jumping back when his sword flashed.

“Keep moving,” Tyrus said. “We'll be fine.”

Another jumped, this time at Daigo. The wildcat snarled. The beast grabbed him by the back of the neck. Moria swung her blade, but it passed through the shadowy figure as the
fiend dog ripped at Daigo, blood flying, the wildcat yowling.

“Begone!” she shouted. “By the ancestors, begone!”

The fiend dog fell back, growling, fangs flashing. Daigo puffed himself up and faced off with the beast.

Moria kept retreating. Behind them, the fiend dogs parted, but only enough to let the group pass. One leaped at Daigo. Moria spun on it, another slashed at Tyrus.

“We can't do this,” she said. “It's too slow, and they're growing bolder. We must run.”

“We—”

“Run or creep, it doesn't matter now. They have our scent. I'll hold them back while you go on ahead.”

“Absolutely not.”

She turned to meet his eyes as he lifted his sword.

“I'll not—” he began.

“You will.”

“No, I—”

“Then we die. I can't keep them from you. I can only give you a head start. If you don't take it, then we continue going like this.”

Another fiend dog jumped at Tyrus, snagging his leg before he kicked it off with a stifled cry of pain. He glowered at Moria, and she knew that while her point had been made, nothing in Tyrus would let him flee from battle, flee from her side.

“Daigo?” she said.

The wildcat spun and charged Tyrus. The prince stood his ground, his feet planted.

“Don't you dare—” Tyrus began.

Daigo hit him, knocking him away from Moria. The fiend dogs saw their chance and rushed at him. Daigo spun, hissing and spitting while moving backward, bumping into Tyrus, forcing him to retreat.

“Leave them!” Moria shouted at the shadows. “They are no threat. I'm the one who can banish you.”

She wheeled on the one closest to her and boomed, “Begone, spirit!” so loud the forest rang with her words. To her surprise, the shadow exploded, black shards flying up and dissipating. The rest of the pack hesitated.

“Run,” Moria said to Tyrus. “You can't get past Daigo.”

He scowled, sword rising as if he'd like to use it on the wildcat.

“I can't hold them for long,” Moria said. “I'll be right behind you.”

“If you are not—”

“You'll stop. I know. So I will be.”

Still he hesitated, rocking, unable to break whatever barrier told him,
Thou shalt not.
Not run. Not turn his back on danger. Not abandon her. Finally, Daigo had to charge him again, forcing him to turn and then battering him until he ran. The fiend dogs tore after them.

“No!” Moria bellowed. “If you touch him again, I swear I will send every last one of you curs to eternal damnation.”

They turned toward her, eyes glowing as their growls rippled through the night.

“Yes, you hear me,
curs.
That's what you are. It's what you were in life, and now you're condemned to your true forms. Slinking curs. Traitors and cowards.”

The fiend dogs growled louder, pacing around her now.

“You dare attack them?” she said, jabbing a finger at Tyrus and Daigo as they fled. “An imperial prince and a Wildcat of the Immortals? True warriors? Honorable warriors? And me? I'm the Keeper. A mere girl who can grind your worthless spirits beneath her boot—”

They charged at her, but she was expecting it and had been gathering her power as she taunted them. As they came at her, she shouted, “No!” with everything in her, with the power of the goddess herself running through her like bolts of pure energy. The beasts fell back as if hit by a giant wave of force, turning to shadows and red eyes and enraged snarls.

Moria spun on her heel and ran as fast as she could, the ground flying under her feet. There'd been a time when she would no more have fled than Tyrus. When she'd have stood firm, confident in her powers, expecting to see every last fiend dog disappear in a puff of smoke. Now she knew better. Her powers were strong; her powers were not invincible.

Sure enough, she hadn't gotten far before the beasts recovered and tore after her, howling and baying, hounds on a scent. Ahead, Tyrus looked back for her.

“Keep going!” she shouted.

He did, and as she ran, the clouds thinned again, and she could see Daigo dropping back, running midway between them, close enough to the prince to keep driving him forward but close enough to Moria to return to her if needed. She waved for him to continue on.

Though the fiend dogs' paws made no sound as they ran, their howls and snarls told her they were gaining ground. When
she saw a shape flash out of the corner of her eye, she twisted, and as she did, she hit something in her path and stumbled.

I cannot fall. If I do, I'll never get up again. They'll swarm over me as they did Tyrus, and I'll be lost.

She skidded and grabbed for whatever was nearest—a spindly sapling. Ahead, Tyrus wheeled. The fiend dogs sensed victory. One leaped at her. Fangs slashed her arm, blood spraying.

She wrenched the sapling to propel herself upright, then flung off it, running again, her ankle throbbing, blood flicking from her arm. Another fiend dog lunged and knocked into her, and she pitched forward, both hands out to brace her fall—

No! I will not fall. I will not.

Again, she managed to stagger into a run. Daigo was there now, snarling and hissing at the fiend dogs as he raced alongside her. Tyrus had circled back, and she shouted for him to keep going, but he wouldn't. He came as close as he dared, then led the way, running barely five paces ahead of her.

“There's something up there,” he said. “I see light.”

All she saw was dark and treacherous forest. Then shards of moonlight flooded what looked like open plain. The edge of the forest. Where Lord Okami's men waited.

Did that help?

Yes, it must. Something kept the fiend dogs in the forest, or they'd wander out into the world in search of prey. Magics bound them there.

And if not, then the men would have horses. Fast horses.

Daigo let out a grunt of surprise, and she looked at him quickly, thinking one of the fiend dogs had grabbed him,
but they were falling behind, as if they knew their boundary approached. Daigo's ears twisted as he ran, his nose moving, too. His eyes went wide, and he started skidding to a halt just as two of the fiend dogs found one last burst of determination and barreled forward.

“Go!” Moria shouted.

Daigo looked from the creatures to the clearing ahead, but he didn't move. Moria grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and heaved him forward, muttering, “Blast you” as he let out a yelp of surprise. Moria saw what was wrong. Tyrus stopped, his arms flying out to hold her back as he stood on the edge of the forest. No . . . on the edge of the world, which seemed to end here. Simply end. There was land, and then there was sky, dark, night sky as far as the eye could see.

Old stories told of breaks between this world and the next, where you could fall through, lost forever as a mortal in the second world.

Behind them, the fiend dogs had stopped, too, as if they also sensed what lay ahead and dared not approach. Tyrus was creeping toward the edge, and she wanted to snatch him back, but feared if she startled him, he'd lose his balance and topple over. He continued on, feeling his way, and she followed, doing the same, until he stood at the very edge, his arm out to block her again, and she looked down and saw . . .

Water. Endless black water. They'd run the wrong way and come out at the sea.

“We can . . .” Tyrus began, then trailed off, as if he wasn't certain how to finish the thought.

“Could we climb down?” she said.

He leaned, and she struggled against the urge to pull him back.

“The cliff bank recedes from the edge,” he said. “We'll have to walk along it.”

She glanced at the fiend dogs. They'd taken form now, that swirling, shadow-like canine form, and they'd started to pace, seeing their prey so close and trapped.

She nodded. “Quickly. While they're still—”

One charged.

“Back!” she shouted, and it stumbled, then regained its balance, shaking itself, its head low as it growled.

A second started forward, cautious, but emboldened by its pack mate. When nothing happened to hold it, the beast kept coming. Then another stepped toward them.

“Can you swim?” Tyrus said.

“What?”

“We have to jump. There's no other way.” He sheathed his sword. “Can you swim?”

She took a deep breath, pushed her dagger into her belt, grabbed his hand, said, “No,” and jumped.

A
s they hurtled through the darkness, Moria reflected that this was not much different from falling from the tree. Except for Daigo's yowling. At least there were no branches to strike on the way down. Just—

They hit the water, and it was like plunging through ice. She'd done that once at a fishing hole, having underestimated the thickness of the ice. It was not an experience she'd ever wished to repeat. First there was the incredible cold that actually seemed to burn, searing the air from her lungs and threatening to stop her heart in her chest. Then, pain took over. Excruciating pain, which at least had the effect of slapping her out of her shock.

As the icy water enveloped her, her mind shed that last veil of shock and she thought,
The sea. I've leaped into the sea.
Also,
I can't swim.
She recalled grabbing Tyrus's hand, but the moment
they'd hit the water, the force of the blow had knocked them apart.

She had to go up.

A wise idea, except as she flailed, she realized she had no idea which way that was. She'd been tumbling through the water and—

Whichever way you're falling? That's not up.

Which made perfect sense. As she turned her body, she could see the dim glow of moonlight overhead. So she started climbing—or what passed for climbing when one was submerged in water—pulling and kicking toward a surface that seemed to get no closer.

Because you're kicking and pushing through water. All you're doing is stopping yourself from falling farther.

She shushed that doubting voice, but the panic that came in its wake propelled her to fight harder. The water was so cold, so unbelievably cold, encasing her body like ice, heavy as lead, pulling her down. She'd been eating barely enough to stay alive, exercising barely enough to keep her muscles from atrophy. Then she'd run through the forest, climbed trees, raced from fiend dogs . . . She was exhausted, and she could not breathe. Most of all, she could not breathe.

So it's too much. You'll just give up. Sink to the bottom and die after escaping Alvar Kitsune and his fiend dogs. No one escapes fiend dogs, and you did.

But she hadn't, had she? Perhaps it truly was fated. She'd seen them and now—

Didn't I tell you not to leave, Keeper?

That
voice sounded like Gavril's, whispered as if he stood
behind her, bending to her ear. Her imagination, not sorcery.

I warned you, Keeper. You won't escape. You aren't strong enough. You aren't clever enough. You fancy yourself a warrior, but you're a foolish little girl.

She pushed her hands over her head, propelling herself up.

You jumped into the sea, Keeper. Knowing you cannot swim.

Because I had no choice. You didn't warn me of the fiend dogs.

I didn't see the point. It wasn't as if you were likely to escape anyway. And if you did? Well, you did not get far, did you?

She squeezed her eyes shut and kept going, past the pain and the exhaustion, pushing up through the water until she was certain—yes, certain—that the moon overhead was growing brighter. Then, suddenly, a black shape passed over it.

No! I need the light . . .

The shape dove lower and her panic sparked until a form grabbed her arm and started hauling her up, and when the moonlight pierced the water again, she could see dragon bands on the arm that pulled her and noticed another dark shape overhead—Daigo treading water.

Tyrus dragged her to the surface, and she broke through, sputtering and gasping. She struggled to fill her lungs, not noticing that he was still pulling her until her feet touched the bottom and the two of them stumbled from the sea onto the beach, and she collapsed there, heaving and shaking. Daigo huddled, soaked, beside her as Tyrus thumped her back, knocking water from her lungs and saying, “Can you speak? Moria?”

“I think . . .” she wheezed. “I think I need you to give me swimming lessons, too.”

He whooped a laugh, coughing at the end of it. Then he gathered her up in a crushing hug, and she collapsed against him, thinking she'd never felt anything so wonderful. And warm. Especially warm. He was as soaking wet as she was, but all she felt was the heat of his body.

“You're all right?” he said.

She nodded against him and he brought her into a kiss, and if his embrace had been a warm blanket, this was a lick of fire, his mouth and his breath so incredibly hot that she wanted the kiss to last forever. And she would have let it, too, if she wasn't so short of breath that she had to break off, coughing slightly before kissing him again.

“So you're fine with this now, it seems,” she said as they parted.

“Gavril had his chance to explain, and he did not. Even if he had . . .” He pulled back, holding her hands. “I decided there was a line between being honorable and being foolish. If you want to be with me, then that's your choice.
Our
choice. No one else's.”

“Ah, so you've finally come to your senses.”

He laughed and embraced her. “Yes. Now, since we don't dare start a fire still so close to Alvar's compound, we need to find a way back to Lord Okami's men, who will have dry clothing, before you freeze solid.”

“You were doing a fine job of keeping me warm a moment ago.”

“And I would love to continue that, but I fear it won't be enough. So I'll promise more later, if you want it.”

“I might. You're rather good at it.”

A laugh. “Thank you. Now, if we continue down this beach, we're bound to find a way back up the cliff . . .”

They did find a way up . . . or “up” found a way to them, as the cliff dwindled into a hill leading from the beach to the field beyond the forest. As they climbed the hill, Tyrus said, “I need to tell you a few things before we reach the men.”

He told her what had happened at the battle, how Lord Jorojumo's men had turned on them, which she already knew. The aftermath, she did not. It seemed Gavril hadn't lied about that after all. Tyrus was in exile, and she was branded a traitor.

But whatever Gavril's claims, she was certain that he had known this all along. Which made another part of Tyrus's tale all the more horrifying.

“They think I was Gavril's . . . lover?” she said.

“They say you fell under his spell on your escape from Edgewood. Or perhaps in Edgewood itself.”

She sputtered a laugh. “Fell under his spell? Clearly whoever tells these tales does not know Gavril Kitsune very well. But that's what they think. That I betrayed my empire and abandoned my sister and my bond-beast for my lover.”

“Yes, to anyone who has known you even for a moment, the story is preposterous.”

“Almost as preposterous as saying you'd fall under
my
spell, betray your empire, and run from battle. Your father will know that isn't true.”

“My mother will, and I take comfort in that.”

“No,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Your father will.”

“I would like to share your confidence, but I don't want to
seem a fool for presuming. The truth is that it doesn't honestly matter what my father thinks. Not as much as it should. My half brothers will spread this story as far as they can, as will their mothers. Those within the court know it is politically wise to side with them. They will rule one day; I will not. If my father defends me, it makes him seem a sentimental old man at a time when he can least afford that.” Tyrus lifted his bare arm, flashing his banded tattoos. “My father is truly of the dragon clan. He is strong-willed and brutal, but he's also crafty and cautious. He knows when to defend his treasure with fire and fang, and when to lie low and outwit his opponents.”

“And your brothers are his opponents.”

“Yes, oddly, as much as they are mine. As long as he lives, he keeps them from the imperial throne. Succession is an ugly thing.”

“Which is one reason he favors you. Because you want nothing from him, least of all his death.”

He shrugged. “I won't presume he favors me but, again, it wouldn't matter if he did. Whether he thinks I could have done this thing or not, I can't run to him for safe harbor. Which is why I went to Lord Okami.”

They crested the hill, then walked in silence before he cleared his throat.

“All of this is to say that your prince is no longer a prince. Taking an exiled traitor for a lover might not have the same appeal.”

“Do you truly think I care? Even a little?”

“No. I'm just pointing it out. To be fair.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are unreasonably fair sometimes,
Tyrus. If I was to think anything at all of a potential loss of title, it would be only the very selfish reflection that at least I don't have to worry about running my blade through some dainty princess who fancies you . . . or running it through
you
if she catches your eye.”

He let out a laugh, cutting himself short as he looked around, then lowered his voice when he spoke. “That would be of no concern even if I remained a prince. Yes, I know you've heard the stories. A young prince—even a bastard—does present a temptation to visiting princesses and ladies, and I will admit that I've taken advantage of that.”

“As well you should.”

He glanced over to see if she was joking.

“I mean it,” she said. “If girls make themselves available, and you do not dishonor them, then there is no harm in dallying. If the situation were mine, I'd certainly take advantage.”

He laughed again. “Thank you, and I can assure you that whatever you heard, it was exaggerated, but the truth . . .” He sobered and looked over at her. “The truth, Moria, is that as entertaining as those dalliances were, there was not a girl whose memory lingered moments after she left the city gates. Only once has one stayed in my mind as if branded there. A girl I could not wait to see again, would seize on any excuse to see again, offering anything from garden tours to swordsmanship lessons. After I recovered from battle, all I wanted was to find you. I told myself Gavril would care for you, that my duty was to inform my father of Jorojumo's betrayal, and that my best hope of rescuing you was with a contingent of his finest warriors at my back.”

“You were using your head.”

He slowed to a stop. “I didn't want to use my head. If Ashyn hadn't been there to keep me on track, I think I'd not have managed it. The moment I learned what had happened—that there was no use in returning to the city—I almost felt relieved. I could shuck duty and follow my heart. Find you. Save you.” He paused and gave a tiny smile. “Even if you did not need saving.”

“I appreciate the effort.”

She leaned in to kiss him, but he stopped her, his hands on her shoulders. “You saved yourself, Moria. More than that, you saved me. I'd have died in the forest, with those fiend dogs.”

“But you'd not have been there if you hadn't come for me.”

“You still did it, and you truly did save me on that battlefield. If you had not called my name when the warlord struck—”

“I'd rather not think on that.”

“Nor would I. But I just want to say . . .” He kissed her. “. . . that
you.
. .” Another kiss. “. . . are incredible . . .” A third. “And
I
. . .” A fourth. “. . . am incredibly lucky.” He looked into her eyes. “I'll not forget that. Ever.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, and the simple press of the lips became more, deliciously more, until Daigo's surprisingly gentle growl reminded them that they needed to be on their way again.