Forest of Ruin (18 page)

M
oria woke to Tyrus desperately trying to rouse her, his voice sharp with panic, his face above hers, Daigo pushed in right beside it.

“Tired,” she said. “So . . .” She couldn't even get the rest out. Exhaustion threatened to pull her back under, and her eyelids flagged. “Sleep.”

“Does anything hurt? Do you feel anything?”

“Just tired.”

“She doesn't show any outward signs of trauma.” Gavril's voice came from somewhere behind Tyrus. “Her heartbeat is strong and her breathing seems—”

“How do you
feel
, Moria?” Tyrus said, cutting Gavril short with an uncharacteristically sharp look his way.

“Just tired. Give me a moment. I'll be . . .”

She drifted off before she could finish. When she woke again, she was curled up with Daigo, Tyrus right there,
anxiously crouched beside them. She barely had time to open her eyes before he was pushing a waterskin to her lips.

“How do you feel now?”

“Better.”

“Drink. There's dried fish here. Whatever happened, it drained your energy. You need to get it back.”

“Yes, your highness.” She favored him with a smile and pushed to sit up, then drank and ate as he hovered and Daigo paced. The other member of their party was nowhere to be seen.

“Is Gavril . . . ?” She looked around.

Tyrus waved impatiently. “Somewhere. He did his healing magics and then wandered off. He's not much of a nursemaid.”

“Eager for me to snap out of it so we can get back on the trail.”

“No, just . . .” Another wave, and he said, “Gavril,” as if that explained all. Which it did. “Can you tell me what happened?”

She did, finishing with, “The stories of shadow stalkers aren't like those of fiend dogs or other twisted spirits. They don't say
what
those spirits are—the vengeful dead, the angry dead, the lost dead, the traitorous dead. They are simply described as spirits, turned into shadow stalkers by sorcerer magics. I think that's because it's exactly what they are. Not twisted spirits. Simply spirits.”

“Many spirits,” Tyrus said. “Bound together with terrible magics.”

She nodded. “They may think they've done something to deserve their fate, but I don't believe they have. Not truly. It's
like when something terrible befalls an innocent person and they search for some way they have offended the ancestors or the goddess.”

“When they haven't. No more than anyone does, in everyday life.” He looked over her head. “Is she right? Her theory?”

“I have no idea,” Gavril said, and Moria turned to see him approaching. “As I've told Moria, my father doesn't discuss the sorcery for shadow stalkers with me. The point is simply that we may finally have a way to expel them—permanently. Which will be useful if we ever get to that camp.”

She looked at Tyrus. “I told you he was getting impatient.”

“No,” Gavril said. “I'm merely suggesting that if you are feeling up to it . . .”

“Yes, yes,” she said. “You wish to get moving. And so we will.”

They found the three horses that the dead family had ridden, and Tyrus declared that if the horses balked, then the goddess did not favor their endeavor. When the horses came easily, he took it as a divine sign. Or at least a reasonable excuse.

The horses were excellent steeds, and Moria decided that when she got one of her own, she would like a steppes horse. They were neither as large nor as sleek as imperial horses, but the shaggy beasts were sturdy and sure-footed. They had a mind of their own, and Gavril grumbled when his mount exercised it, but Moria rather admired this trait in a beast. Yes, she would have a steppes horse for riding and exploring the world. Once she had time to ride and explore the world. If she lived long enough to ride and explore the world.

They followed the landmarks the young man had given, and before dusk, they spotted the encampment. The steppes seemed an odd place to hide, given the open land, yet the barrenness and lack of road meant only locals would come this way, and Tyrus doubted they'd turn in the supposed slavers. He said he wouldn't be surprised to learn the locals had been trading with them.

They found a place for the horses to drink and graze and left them there. Then, as the sun dropped, they surveyed the situation.

The camp was quite literally in the middle of nowhere. Meaning sneaking up was nearly impossible. No rises to hide behind. No trees to climb. The occupants had even cut down the long grass in a wide swatch surrounding the camp. There weren't, however, any obvious guards posted beyond the low fence.

“The sun has dropped low enough that I can slip through the grass,” Gavril said. “I cannot get close enough to see past the fence, but I'll be able to hear inside, and ascertain the likelihood it contains shadow stalkers.”

“Can your sorcery detect them?” she asked.

“I mean I can listen for them.”

“They don't make any sound unless they're screaming.”

“Yes, Keeper, that is the point. If I hear nothing, then I will know it is shadow stalkers.”

“Why? If it was slaves instead, would they be allowed to roam freely? Talk among themselves? Plan their mutiny?”

He gave her a hard look.

“As much as I'd prefer to stay out of your bickering,” Tyrus
said, “Moria has a point. Slaves are kept bound and gagged until they reach their destination beyond our borders.”

“Thank you. Now, Kitsune, if you have no magics for detecting shadow stalkers, might I remind you that I
can
detect them.”

“You didn't notice the one hiding in that boy.”

It was her turn to give him a hard look. “Because it was
hiding
. As soon as it manifested, I sensed it.”

“Yes, and as soon as it manifested, I
saw
it. And you cannot get close enough to detect them because you glow in the dark like a lantern, Keeper.”

She pulled up her hood. He reached out and tugged a lock of her pale hair. She scowled and stuffed it in.

“I am still better suited for sneaking up at night,” he said.

“Through this grass?” She shook a handful of the golden stalks. “That boy spotted Daigo coming before he spotted us.”

“Again, Moria has a point,” Tyrus said. “You are too dark for this task, Gavril.” Gavril opened his mouth to protest as Moria shot him a satisfied look. “And Moria is too pale.”

“What?” she said.

“The mission, then, goes to the one who can best blend with the grass. Which would be me.” He shucked his cloak. “Thank you both for pointing that out. Now, if you insist on following me part of the way to watch my back, I will not argue. However, I'll ask that you refrain from bickering. I know that will be difficult, but it does get rather loud.”

They both glowered at him. He kissed Moria on the nose and headed out.

M
oria, Gavril, and Daigo followed Tyrus until he lifted his hand, telling them they'd gone far enough. Daigo continued after him, slunk down on his belly to hide himself as much as possible. Moria reached out to touch his tail and he turned. He gave a chirp, which she interpreted to mean he would go as close as he could to watch over Tyrus while not attracting any undue attention. She murmured a thank-you under her breath and he set out.

As they watched Daigo go, Gavril whispered, “He is still bonded to you.”

“Hmm?”

Gavril cleared his throat. “I have noticed Daigo seems quite attached to Tyrus, and I thought that might bother you.”

“He watches over Tyrus when I cannot. I'm glad of it.”

“Oh. I had not interpreted it that way, but yes, your
affection for Tyrus is obvious to anyone, even a beast. Or, I suppose,
particularly
a bond-beast.”

When they reached the longer grass, they discovered
why
it was longer—the ground was moist, almost bog-like. Once Moria had gotten as close as she dared, she settled in. Daigo appeared, slinking through the grass. She scratched him behind the ears and said, “I'm fine. Go back to Tyrus,” and he chuffed and left.

“I'm fine, too,” Gavril called after him.

Daigo snorted as he crept away through the grass. Once he was gone, Moria discovered an advantage to their spot—they were downwind of the encampment, which meant they could likely hear better than Tyrus. When she caught faint voices, she glanced over to ask Gavril if he heard them, and found him watching her with a look she knew well.

“What have I done now?” she whispered.

“Nothing.”

“You have something to say.”

“This is not the time.”

A few more moments, then she sighed. “Say it. I cannot concentrate with you giving me a look that says you wish to speak.”

“I can speak anytime I wish.”

She growled under her breath and turned away, saying, “You are in a mood.”

“I am not in a mood. Perhaps you are.”

“Enough, Kitsune. We aren't going to argue about who is in an argumentative mood. If you wish to say something to me, do it so we may get back to listening.”

More silence. Just as she caught a voice from the camp, Gavril said, “We still need to speak.”

She tried not to growl again. “On what?”

“Me. What I did. The rest of it. I know it will not . . .” He shifted position. “It will change nothing, but Tyrus has heard it all, and I would prefer you heard it from me.”

“He would never tell me your story. That is yours.”

“But he might allude to it, thinking you already know. I am not saying we need to speak now, Keeper. I'm simply asking that you allow me to finish, when there is time.”

“All right.”

He paused. Then said, “You agreed too readily. You are trying to silence me.”

“Yes, blast it, I'm trying to silence you so I can
listen
.”

She could hear voices now. One raised, telling someone to stop something.

“I realize you are—” he began.

A cry cut him off. A sudden and high-pitched cry, and her first thought was of the shadow stalkers, but it was a far more ordinary sound. The cry of a child. Moria went still, straining to hear, and Gavril did the same.

She caught a man's voice. Telling the child to stop her howling or he'd give her a reason to howl. Then another child—a boy—said that the girl was only frightened and yelling at her didn't help.

“I . . . I know that voice,” Moria whispered.

“Niles,” Gavril said.

She looked over, surprised that he would actually recognize the voice of a child from Edgewood, let alone know his name.

“He used to come around the barracks,” Gavril said. “He said he was looking for chores, but I suspect he was watching our lessons, hoping to learn how to use a sword, which I told him was pointless for his caste.”

“But it
is
Niles.” She looked toward the camp, which had gone quiet now. She turned quickly back to Gavril.

“We've not found the shadow stalkers. We've found—”

She scrambled to her feet without finishing. When he grabbed her arm, she tried to wrench away, but his grip tightened.

“Yes,” he said as he fought to hold her still. “It is the children.”

“How can you be so—?” She broke off with a sharp shake of her head. “Of course you can. You didn't care about anyone in that—”

“I care about you, Keeper,” he said, his voice chilling. “I'll not let you run blindly into danger. Yes, I do not feel for the children of Edgewood as you do. They grew up with you, and you with them. They adored you, and you them, however much you pretended otherwise. That does not mean I fail to feel compassion for their situation. I want them free as soon as the safe opportunity presents itself. Safe to them and, moreover, safe to you.”

He released her. “You have accused me of paying no attention to those in Edgewood. That is correct. I did not because I knew I must betray my post, and could not afford to form attachments. Which is why I rebuffed all attempts at friendship. Even yours.” He adjusted his sword as he knelt to look out and then mumbled, “Especially yours. It was difficult to be
cold toward people who were kind to me. If you condemn me for that, then I'd ask you do so once, thoroughly, and be done with the constant reminders.”

“I do not mean—”

“You do not mean to be cruel. I know. But now we have another task. Rescuing your village's children.”

“It
is
them.”

An annoyed look. “Have we not ascertained that?”

“It's just . . .” Tears prickled. “I wanted to search for them. I always wanted to be searching, but then other things would arise, and I would feel so guilty, Gavril. So blasted guilty.”

“Don't cry.”

“I'm not—”

He moved closer and put an awkward arm around her. “You've found them, Moria. They will not wonder why you didn't come sooner—they will only be happy that you've come.”

She leaned against his shoulder, letting the silent tears fall onto his tunic. He stiffened, and she was about to back away, but he tightened his arm around her, still awkward, mumbled equally awkward words of comfort until a voice said, “What happened?” and Gavril pulled back so fast that Moria would have tumbled face-first onto the ground if Tyrus hadn't caught her.

“Moria?” Tyrus said, his eyes widening as he saw her tears. She started to speak, but he pulled her against him, and she buried her face in his shoulder as he said, “Gavril? What happened?”

“She's upset. And happy, I think. But also upset. She . . . was . . . crying.”

“I can see that. Again, what happened?”

Moria pulled back and wiped her eyes. “It isn't the shadow stalker camp. It's the children.”

“Wh-what?”

She stepped away. “The children. Of Edgewood and perhaps Fairview and Northpond. I heard a boy I recognized and Gavril did, too. It's them. It's truly them.”

Tyrus looked toward the camp, rising, his hand going to his sword pommel. Gavril grabbed and yanked him down.

“Apparently this is why you two need me here,” Gavril said. “So you don't run headlong to your deaths. Yes, the children are there. Yes, we are obviously going to rescue them . . . if such a thing is possible. And if it is not, then we will return with aid.”

Tyrus looked at Moria and broke into a broad grin. “It's the children. You found them.”

“Yes,” Gavril said impatiently. “I believe that has been acknowledged—”

Tyrus threw his arms around her neck and hugged her, whispering, “I'm so glad. For them and for you, Moria.” He grinned down at her, and it was a breathtaking grin, as if the children were from his own village, as if it did not matter that he knew them not at all. What mattered was what they meant to her. And she loved him for that. She truly did, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as she could.

Behind them, Gavril sighed. “I thought you were in a hurry.”

“Yes, yes,” Tyrus said. “Stop grumbling and give us a
heartbeat to enjoy the moment, Gavril.” One last hug, then, “There. We're done. Now . . .”

“What did you see, Tyrus? From your position?”

“I couldn't get close enough to see or hear, but I did spot a wagon leaving. I was coming to suggest we waylay it to determine the exact nature of the camp, but now that we know it, clearly we must—”

Gavril grabbed Tyrus's arm when he started rising again.

Tyrus glared at him. “I was merely looking.”

“Don't. You'll call attention to us, and there's nothing to see. Now may I suggest that since I view this situation most dispassionately, I should plan our next move?”

“What do you have in mind?” Moria asked.

He told them.