Forest of Ruin (25 page)

T
yrus arrived almost as soon as Ashyn and Ronan returned. Moria awoke long enough for a brief exchange of words and a kiss, and then he settled in next to her, and everyone went to sleep.

Moria's wounds did not heal overnight, but between Gavril's magics and Ashyn's healing, she was in good enough shape to ride. And they all
could
ride, Tyrus having brought two more horses. They were on the road not long after dawn and eventually rejoined Dalain and the others at their camp.

Tyrus, Gavril, and Moria had come up with a plan on the journey. Ashyn and Ronan had listened in, but it was mostly those three who determined their course of action. They would free the children first. No one even suggested they ought to ride straight for the imperial city. The children were close enough that it made no sense to rush straight to the emperor and risk losing them.

Did it concern Ashyn that her sister had stumbled on the children so easily? At first, yes, but once they explained the situation with the shadow stalkers, she understood it was no unlikely coincidence. The so-called bandits had been working for Alvar. They'd brought Gavril intentionally to show him his poor mother's corpse. Alvar had been keeping her in this wasteland on the edge of the steppes. And he'd been using the same general area to hide his shadow stalkers and the kidnapped children. It was a simple matter of efficiency.

They did keep their eyes open for the shadow stalker camp. It was likely within a half-day's walk of the children. Understandably, though, Alvar wouldn't keep it
too
close. They'd notify the emperor and he could send men to find it when they did not.

They did worry that Alvar might have stopped at the children's camp as he headed back to his military base. But if he had, it was only temporary and he'd moved on before they arrived. The children had only five guards and a small staff to tend to them. Tyrus spent a quarter of a day ensuring that—scouting to be certain there were no hidden troops waiting to spring a trap. There wasn't. At sundown, they launched their strike.

This time, they used Zuri to their advantage—Tyrus and Moria got the dragon whelp flying above the camp, as she traveled between her two favorite people, both armed with fresh meat. The sight of a dragon sent the camp into a tizzy, and from there, the guards were easily routed. The servants seemed ill-inclined to fight, particularly on seeing an imperial prince and their own lord's son leading the charge with a Keeper at
their backs. The older children rose up, too, the girls as well as the boys, grabbing whatever they could find as weapons, in case the servants attacked. They did not. The warriors were easily beaten and the caretakers easily cowed.

And that was it. The camp was taken.

That's when Moria and Ashyn got their truest reward. Their reunion with the children of Edgewood. The others stayed back for that. Even Ashyn had been inclined to linger on the fringes. She'd been friendly with the children of their village, but it had always been her sister whom they loved. Or so she thought. Now, they embraced her and they clung to her and they climbed on Tova. And she realized that, perhaps, she had never been overshadowed by Moria quite as much as she'd
felt
overshadowed. The sisters were different. But that only meant they had their own strengths. And while the older children clamored about Moria and chattered to her and told her all that had happened, the little ones curled up with Ashyn, on her knee and in her arms and leaning against her, and they cried and she comforted them.

Then the children wanted to see Tyrus. After all, he was an imperial prince and certainly no word of his alleged betrayal had reached their ears. For them, it was like meeting the emperor himself. Even better, because Tyrus was young and friendly and handsome and had stormed in to their rescue, blade flashing. Along with Moria, he was the hero of their childhood dreams. Someone else was, too. A young warrior they remembered from Edgewood, now fighting at Tyrus and Moria's side: Gavril.

The children did not seem to realize his father was
responsible for their captivity, or if they did, they did not blame him. He was Gavril Kitsune. From Edgewood. He may not have been friendly or even well-liked, but that was forgotten now, because he was familiar and as much a hero as Moria and Tyrus. Gavril took one look at those glowing faces, heard one joyous shout of “Gavril!,” mumbled some excuse about the horses, and bolted from the compound.

Moria and Tyrus exchanged a look. Tyrus whispered something to Moria, and she nodded and left the children in Tyrus's care, promising them something truly magical if they behaved.

While Moria went to speak to Gavril, Ronan came in from securing the camp with Dalain and Sabre. Some of the children recognized Ronan, and, like Gavril, it didn't matter
what
he'd been before. They saw not an exiled thief, but the young rogue who'd escaped the inescapable forest, who'd joined their heroes and come to their rescue. Then there was Dalain, and when Tyrus said who his father was, the older children stared in awe, having heard tales of the Gray Wolf. And a bandit king's daughter? A girl who'd charged into the camp, alongside the warriors, armed with her sling? For once, Sabre didn't insist her father was no bandit. Clearly the children were entranced, and she let them be, showing the older girls her sling as she chattered away.

Moria returned shortly after that. Gavril followed, staying at her back. It helped that she brought with her something guaranteed to turn their attention from the reluctant hero. The children promptly forgot the warriors and the thief and the bandit girl and the prince and even their own Keeper and Seeker. There was a dragon in the camp. Nothing else mattered.

Zuri seemed a little uncertain, with so many children, but Tyrus was there and Moria was there, and Daigo, too, sticking by Zuri's side like her appointed protector. She accepted some petting and such, and by the time Tyrus declared it was time to leave, they had a camp filled with very happy and very tired children, all ready to collapse, asleep, in the Okami wagons.

In short, the rescue and the reunion were everything Ashyn could have imagined.

M
oria lay beside Tyrus in the wagon. They were fully dressed, which was a shame, but she was still recovering from her injuries, and this was hardly the time for more exploration. They also both had too much on their minds to devote their full attention to that, as it deserved. For now, what they needed most was quiet time together, away from those other thoughts and responsibilities. So they'd retreated to the wagon to “talk and rest,” and while they were in a recumbent position, they'd been too busy kissing to talk. Lots of wonderful and delicious kisses, which made Moria decide that while the exploration was very fun and satisfying indeed, there was something to be said for simply lying in each other's arms.

“Does this hurt your side?” Tyrus whispered as he tugged her on top of him.

“I do not care if it does,” she said.

He chuckled, startling Daigo and Zuri, who were curled up at the other end of the wagon. Being careful with her bandaged side, he wrapped his hands in her hair, and their lips had barely touched when a rap came at the wagon door.

“Tyrus?” Dalain said. “May I enter?” He lowered his voice. “I will keep my gaze averted.”

“Come in,” Tyrus said.

Dalain stepped inside—backward.

Tyrus chuckled again and said, “We are fully dressed.”

“But not lying with a handbreadth between you, I'll wager.”

“I find it more restful without space between us,” Moria said.

Dalain turned, smiling, and shook his head. “I know I'm the oldest one in the party when the others accepted your excuse of ‘resting and talking' without comment. I am sorry to interrupt, Tyrus, but I need to speak to you. I'll keep it brief.”

They talked, mostly Tyrus and Dalain, though Moria listened in, and Tyrus would glance over, taking in her thoughts with a look, amending his plans if she displayed any sign of doubt. Tyrus would never be a bold, blustering leader, certain that every word that came from his lips was divinely inspired. He consulted those around him when their skills were better suited to a task. And he consulted her as a sounding board, a trusted confidante who would always tell him exactly what she thought.

This was their second night on the road. They were still traveling—continuing through the night, taking turns resting in the wagons. They would arrive at the imperial city in
another day. And Tyrus was terrified.

Dalain had sent two of his men to his father's territory, to convince Lord Okami to join them as they neared the city. Yet what they asked was dangerous. It placed Lord Okami firmly at the side of several supposed traitors. What they planned to do might force Emperor Tatsu's hand more than he could afford to have it forced in a time of war. They'd agreed, though, that it was the only way. No more skulking about, caught between the two sides, accused of betraying both. They were marching on the city, possibly to end up in its dungeons. And if they did, then it did not matter that all had agreed—Tyrus would blame himself.

When Dalain left, Tyrus fell back onto the sleeping pallet, sighing. Moria moved against him again and he smiled for her, pulling her into a kiss. They lost themselves in that distraction for a few moments longer.

They were breaking for a brief meal, when the messenger they'd sent to speak to Lord Okami came riding hard.

“He comes,” the young man panted. “With an army at his rear.”

Tyrus exhaled in relief. “He joins us then.”

The messenger only swallowed, his gaze downcast.

“Does he
not
come to join us?” Dalain said.

“I—I know only that he comes, my lord. He said to tell you that . . . and then sent me off at the tip of his sword.”

Moria glanced at Tyrus.

“We hold our ground,” he said. “And we pray.”

It seemed to take forever for the dust of the approaching army to appear. They did spot riders before that, presumably sent to follow the messenger onto Tyrus's path. First they saw the dust clouds. Then riders—at least thirty of them. And behind the riders, rows of marching warriors. While Lord Okami would have left men behind to guard his lands, he had brought the bulk of his army, quickly gathered from nearby posts.

The army halted far enough that Moria was just barely able to make out the wolf head helmets of the warlord and his elder sons. The Gray Wolf then broke from his ranks and approached alone. He rode up to Tyrus, who stood in his path, Dalain at one side, Gavril and Moria at the other, all slightly behind him.

“So,” Lord Okami called as he approached. “By what right do you order me to raise an army for you, Prince Tyrus?”

“It was not a demand but a request.”

“From a member of the imperial family, it is always a demand.”

Tyrus dipped his chin. “It was not intended as such.”

“You requested my help. My men. After you escaped my custody. Turned me into an imperial traitor.”

“What? No. I—”

“You escaped my custody when the entire empire knows you apprenticed under my family. Either I betrayed my emperor by releasing you or I am such a weak and sentimental old fool that I let you play on my affections and escape.”

Dalain cut in. “But Tyrus has proven he is no traitor, as I'm sure the messenger told you. He will return to the city in triumph, and everyone will see that he was aligned with both
the Keeper and Gavril Kitsune
for
the empire, not against it. You alone saw through the lies and allowed him to prove himself. By marching at his side, you take control of the story, Father.”

“Now you advise me in matters of state?” Lord Okami turned his steely gaze on his son. “Tyrus escaped my custody. You found him. And you failed to return him. You had the opportunity to save your family's good name . . . and instead you joined the alleged traitor.”

“Because of the dragon, Father. The dragon proves—”

“Ah, yes. The dragon. Let's see this beast that someone has convinced you children is a dragon.”

Tyrus turned and Ronan opened the wagon, luring Zuri out with food. When Tyrus whistled, she flew over with a happy squawk and swooped to tease Daigo before landing at Tyrus's side. Moria glanced at the Gray Wolf, expecting to see shock in his face, but he only crouched and gave the whelp a critical once-over.

“Snow dragon,” he said. “Not the most useful variety. And it's very small.”

Zuri hissed, blowing cold air in his face.

“Ah,” he said. “Now I see her use. She'll chill honey wine for the warriors.” He stood. “I heard there was a full-grown one. Why did you not wake her?”

“Because it would have cost the Keeper's or Seeker's life,” Tyrus said.

The Gray Wolf looked at Moria, and then over her shoulder at Ashyn as she approached. “Neither of you was willing to sacrifice your life for your empire?”

“No,” Moria said simply.

Ashyn walked up behind her. “Particularly not when the result would almost certainly be a very unhappy, newly woken, full-grown dragon who would have killed us all. These things never end nearly as well as they do in bards' tales. Which people always fail to realize until it's too late.”

Lord Okami looked as if he was biting his cheek to keep from laughing. “All right, then. So you have a dragon. A very small dragon. I'll take a wolf.”

“What?” Tyrus said.

“Did you catch an arrow in your ear, boy? I want a wolf. Preferably gray. That will be the price of my fealty.”

Tyrus stared, but Dalain shook his head. “He's teasing you, Tyrus. As he has been since he first rode up here. Or not so much teasing as performing. He is the Gray Wolf—he cannot come gamboling to your side like an eager pup. He must be fierce and proud and fearsome, and you must tremble and stammer and then woo him to your side.”

“With a wolf,” Lord Okami said. “There's one in the mountains. A legendary she-wolf. You'll bring me one of her next litter as a living representative of my totem. Like that.” He pointed at Zuri.

“All right,” Tyrus said slowly. “I owe you a wolf.”

“Good.” He slapped Tyrus on the back. “You have explained yourself to me, convinced me of your innocence, and bought my forgiveness with a wolf cub, to be delivered at some future time.” He glanced at Gavril. “If you ever wanted your own nine-tailed fox, this is the time to ask.”

“That one would be slightly more difficult to deliver,” Gavril said.

Lord Okami winked at him. “Which is the point of making the demand. Come then, children. Let us march on the imperial city while you tell me your plan, so I may fix it for you.”