Sea of Shadows

by Kelley Armstrong

  Ronan shot a look at the dripping earthen ceiling, then down at the scattering rats.

  "At least the vermin are running," she said. "We had some in the livestock sheds that weren't afraid of man or beast. They bit a farmer, and we realized they were infected with the fever. They're gone now, though. Just vanished. We've always wondered where they . . ." She looked at the fleeing rodents. "Oh."

  Ronan jerked back as if bitten. The guards laughed.

  "She's having fun with you, boy," one said.

  "Of course I am," Moria said. "We'd hardly quarantine you someplace with infected rats. Although that would be rather clever, in a diabolical way. . . ."

  Being sent down here was partially his own fault anyway. When the commander had asked about his crimes, he'd said nothing. So they had no idea how dangerous he was.

  The guards reached the cells. They waved Ronan into the first one.

  Two of the guards had left; only the third remained, taking up his post at a chair in the hall. The cell had a heavy wooden door, reinforced with metal, only two window squares cut in it--a low one for passing food and drink, and a higher one to see the occupant.

  When Moria and Daigo began to withdraw, Ronan moved to the window and said, "What do you think the search party will report back?"

  I'm not sure they will report back. She was trying not to think of that. She was already furious with the commander for sending a party of warriors to search for survivors. At the very least, she should go with them, using her power to protect the men. But the commander was convinced what they faced was not shadow stalkers, but exiles who'd survived.

  "You're worried about the Kitsune boy going back in there," Ronan said when she didn't answer.

  "Gavril isn't going . . ." She caught his expression and said slowly, "What do you mean?"

  "The commander sent him. He needed someone who'd been in there."

  Moria's hand grasped the damp wood of the door to steady herself. "When did he say that?"

  "While you were talking to your father, after everything was decided."

  Moria turned and ran before he could say another word.

  There was nothing Moria could do. Gavril was gone, and she couldn't leave Ashyn and their father behind to go after him. All she could do was help her sister perform the rituals of spiritual protection. Moria didn't know what good they would do against shadow stalkers, but they had to try.

  Moria also appealed to the spirits for guidance. This was an emergency. Surely the rules did not apply. But there was no answer. She'd barely felt the spirits since returning to the village. Were they angry with the girls for not stopping what had happened in the forest?

  After dinner, their father had to attend a village meeting. Once he'd left, the girls took food to the prisoner. Ashyn also brought a box of stones to play black-and-white. They could not enter Ronan's cell--it merely latched on their side, but the guards would not permit them to open the door. They had to pass the food through the hatch, then set out the game board in the hall, with Ronan watching through his window and calling his moves.

  When Ronan had said he wasn't very good at the game, Moria had insisted Ashyn play against him. Her sister was a master strategist and would win the game quickly, so they could leave. But the boy had lied. Shocking, truly, for a criminal.

  It was not, then, a short game. Worse, as it stretched on, he decided he wanted to talk--to Moria. She tried to dissuade him by sharpening her blade. When he didn't take the hint, she used a piece of rock to draw on the door of the farthest cell, and began target practice.

  "You're good," he said when her dagger struck the center of the target.

  "She's just playing," Ashyn said. "She can hit at twice that distance."

  "I've thrown a few daggers myself," Ronan said.

  "Were there people in front of them?" Moria asked as Daigo brought back her blade.

  "Not that I recall." A soft creak sounded as he leaned against his door. "Even if there were, I doubt I would have hit them. It's clearly a skill that requires practice. Perhaps if you were to teach me how to improve my technique . . ."

  "Huh." She threw the dagger again. "That's a fine idea. I'll let you out so I can . . . Wait. Ooh, you almost got me."

  "I meant when I'm released, of course."

  She glanced back. He was looking out the window, grinning.

  "You're in a fine mood now," she said.

  He shrugged. "I realized you were right. I ought to be grateful that I'm safe. You defended me, and I truly appreciate--"

  She cut him short with a burst of laughter.

  "Moria!" Ashyn said.

  "He's playing us." Moria sauntered to his cell. "We brought him food and a game, so he sees opportunity. Perhaps even a couple of foolish girls he can charm with his city manners. I brought you stew because I consider you my responsibility. Ashyn brought you a game because she's kind. We'd do the same if you were old and toothless."

  Daigo growled. Moria thought he was just echoing her annoyance, but he kept up a low, humming growl until Tova whined and rose.

  She glanced at the guard. He was in his chair, trying to stay awake. No sounds came from above. Considering everything that had happened, though, it seemed unwise to ignore any sign of trouble, however slight.

  "Daigo's telling me we've been down here much too long," she said. "Our father will be back from his meeting and beginning to worry. Ashyn can finish the game. She almost has you beat. I'll check in with our father and return."

  Ashyn hesitated, but Moria insisted. If she had concerns about what might be happening above, her sister was safer down here.

  "I'll be back," Moria said. "Don't leave without me."

  As she passed the guard, she murmured, "Don't let her leave without me."

  He nodded, and Moria and Daigo headed for the ladder. When she climbed from the cells, she found the barracks still and silent. That gave her pause. Then she remembered that half the garrison was in the search party, the other half on duty. No one would be in here until the searchers came home.

  As she stepped into the hall, she heard footsteps.

  "It's Moria," she called.

  A door slapped shut. Then silence. Someone must have snuck back for a few stolen moments of rest. She glanced into a barrack room and saw dark red droplets sprayed across the sheets. Even as she hurried over, though, she could see it wasn't blood. Too dark and too thin. She bent to sniff the drops. Berry wine. A guard sneaking back for a drink, then spilling it when he heard her coming.

  Daigo was already at the door, growling again. She pushed it open. The wildcat walked out, his nose lifted, ears twitching.

  She peered around. Darkness had fallen. Complete darkness. It was much later than she'd thought. The day had been so chaotic that they hadn't eaten dinner until night was falling, and it was well past their usual bedtime now.

  "Where are the lights?" she murmured.

  She looked up into a gray-black sky, devoid of stars or moon.

  Dark and quiet. No, not quiet. Silent. The village was absolutely, utterly silent. When she sucked in breath, the whistle of it startled Daigo.

  "Something's wrong," she murmured.

  He chuffed in agreement. Moria glanced back at the barracks. If there was trouble, Ashyn should stay right where she was. And just because the village was dark didn't mean anything was wrong. People would have gone to bed, and with half the garrison away, the village was bound to be quiet. She wouldn't panic Ashyn for nothing.

  As she walked along the barracks, the carpenter's dog, Blackie, howled. A normal sound of night. She exhaled. Then the howl stopped. Midnote. The hair on her neck rose. Daigo growled.

  "We're going home. We'll speak to Father and make sure everything is all right, then we'll return for Ashyn."

  Daigo grunted, approving the plan. As they continued on, Moria slowed, rolling her footsteps so she walked as silently as her wildcat. When something moved to the left, she wheeled but saw nothing. Still she stood there, watching the spo
t until she was certain it'd been a trick of the eye.

  A few more steps. Then a low groan sounded to her right. Moria looked over at the village square. She saw only an empty patch of rocky ground with a few precious beds of dirt, fresh turned, seeds planted for summer flowers.

  Another groan. She followed the noise to the village hall behind the square. A board had come loose under the eaves and seemed to be groaning in the wind.

  As she turned back, a shadow darted across the square. This time, there was no mistaking what she was seeing--a dark shadow twisting and writhing as it skittered across the square.

  Shadow stalker.

  Her fingers tightened on her blade.

  "Begone," she whispered. "By the power of the ancestors, I command you to leave. You trespass on blessed ground."

  The shadow--smoke, fog, whatever it was--just kept twisting lazily, making its way across the square.

  "Spirits," she whispered. "This is your home. Protect it."

  The spirits didn't answer. When she went still and focused, she could find no trace of them.

  It felt like the forest. Empty and dead. Dark and silent.

  Moria broke into a run. The shadow made no move to chase her, just swirled off toward the forest. She raced across the rocky ground until her boots slid on something slick. She tried to catch herself, but she'd been going too fast and fell, hands out, dagger clinking against the rock. When she smelled and felt the warm dampness, she knew this was not berry wine.

  Daigo circled, trying to get to her while staying clear of the blood, but it was everywhere. Like in the grove. The rocks were slick and wet with it. More pooled in every divot and dip. Finally, Daigo charged through, grabbed her cloak in his teeth, and pulled.

  Moria got to her feet and looked around. Blood. So much blood. No other sign of anyone, anything.

  She moved forward, sure-footed now, slower. A noise sounded to her right. She glanced over to see something dripping from the village hall roof. A body lay on it, one arm draped over the edge, blood dripping to the stones below.

  "We have to get home," Moria whispered.

  Daigo leaped forward, and Moria tore after him.

  Where were the guards? The remaining garrison was supposed to be on alert, watching the forest. Where were they?

  Gone. Dead. Whatever was in the forest had come, and the warriors' blades had been powerless to stop it.

  The guards didn't even have time to sound the alarm.

  She tried to understand that. There was a bell right at each guard tower. Within arm's reach. If they'd rung, though, she would have heard them even down in the cells.

  As she raced past a house, she heard a moan. She looked over. The door was open. Through it, she could see a body on the floor. Someone was inside, alive, injured. Still, she didn't stop. She'd come back.

  There was more blood ahead. Splashed over the road. Speckling the houses. She refused to process the implications, and let Daigo lead her through the village until, finally, she was home.

  Thirteen

  The front door was closed. She wanted that to be a good sign, but she knew her father might not have made it back at all. Perhaps he'd been at the meeting when . . .

  She opened the door. Inside, the house was as still and silent as the village. Daigo edged past her, growling softly as if to say, I'll handle this. He bounded straight to the back of the house. To her father's bedroom.

  Did he smell him there? Please, please, she begged the spirits. Let Daigo smell him there.

  She raced through after the wildcat. In the near-dark, she could see a figure on her father's sleeping mat. Pale hair glistened on the pillow. She exhaled as relief shuddered through her.

  Daigo let out a strange noise, like a strangled yowl.

  "He's fine," she whispered.

  She went to the chest and picked up the lantern, then fumbled in the dark with the flint and firestone. The lantern sputtered before casting its pale glow over the room.

  Daigo yowled again.

  "Stop that," Moria hissed. "We'll check on the others next. I want to speak to Father."

  As she walked to the mat, her fingers trembled. Despite what she'd said to Daigo, his yowl worried her, and she half expected to see blood-soaked blankets pulled up over her father's corpse. But he lay there under clean sheets, his eyes closed.

  "Father?" she whispered. "It's Moria. Something's happened."

  He didn't move. She rubbed the back of her neck, almost nicking herself with her dagger. She sheathed it, reached out, and shook his shoulder. His head lolled.

  "No," she whispered. "No."

  Her hand flew to his cheek. It was cool.

  Because it's a cold night. That's all.

  She shook him harder, calling him. Then she touched his chest, his neck, searching for some sign of life, finding none.

  When Daigo jumped up on the mat, she snarled at him. She would have shoved him if he hadn't leaped off first. When he gave a long, plaintive yowl of pain and grief, she spun on him, hand raised. Then she realized what she was doing, let out a strangled cry, and dropped to her knees.

  Daigo rubbed against her, his sandpaper tongue licking her cheek. She put her arms around him and collapsed against his side. A sob caught in her chest. Her eyes burned and stung, but tears wouldn't flow. She just hung there over Daigo, gasping.

  He's . . . Father is . . .

  Her mind wouldn't even finish the thought. Like the sob and the tears, it clogged up inside her, stabbing through her chest and her head.

  I didn't take care of him. Didn't take care of any of them. Levi, Gavril, Father . . .

  Father . . .

  She doubled over, convulsed in pain.

  Then she heard a soft moan. From the sleeping mat. She scrambled up and leaned over to touch her father's shoulder. He just lay there, head lolling, eyes closed.

  "Father?"

  He made a sound. Like breath exhaled through clenched teeth. Now the tears came, springing to Moria's eyes as her hands flew to his chest.

  Still no sign of life.

  No, you're mistaken. He is alive. You heard him.

  As if in answer, his chest moved. She climbed onto the thick padded mat, leaning down and hugging him as tight as she could, tears flowing free now.

  "It's me," she said. "It's me, Fath--"

  A noise sounded deep in his chest. A strange, unnatural gurgling, and she released him, falling back, apologies spilling out.

  A hiss. Then a noise, unlike anything she'd ever heard before, part moan and part snarl. She caught a flash of claws swiping at her, and pain ripped through her arm.

  Claws.

  Not Daigo. Not a paw. A misshapen hand with talons as long as the fingers themselves.

  She grabbed her father's shoulders to haul him to safety. His eyes were open. Those blue eyes she knew so well, the whites shot with blood. Then she saw his face.

  With a cry, she released him and fell back. She hit the floor. Daigo leaped onto her, facing off with whatever . . .

  Father. It's . . .

  No, it wasn't. Couldn't be.

  Then the cry came, a moaning, snarling screech that set every hair on end. The claws swiped at Daigo. The wildcat pounced and caught the thing by the wrist. The other hand slashed Daigo's back. With a howl, Moria yanked out her dagger and leaped up.

  Then she saw it. Truly saw it.

  It was her father. She tried to tell herself it wasn't--couldn't be--but it was. Her father's blue eyes. Her father's fair hair. But not her father's face. The face of something from a nightmare, gray skin stretched over bone, jutting chin and nose and cheekbones. No lips, just a slash of a mouth. And teeth. Fangs. So big his mouth couldn't close. He let out another of those terrible cries, his jaw stretching open until all she could see were the fangs. They shot toward Daigo.

  Moria broke from her shock and lunged at him. Her blade was raised, but she couldn't swing it down, her arm refusing to move, her mind telling her this was her father, no matter what she was see
ing. All she could do was swipe at him with her free hand. It was a feeble blow, but enough to surprise him. He turned on her. Daigo dropped between them, fur rising as he spat.

  Moria made a noise. She wasn't even truly sure what it was, but Daigo understood. He backed up to her side.

  The thing on the sleeping mat--not my father, not my father--pushed its gnarled legs from beneath the covers. Its gaze stayed fixed on her, head bobbing, nostrils flaring. Drinking in her scent. Thinking. Considering. Planning.

  "Father?" she said. Her voice came out so low she barely heard it. She tried again. "Father? You're in there. I know you are."

  He's not. You can see that. Look in his eyes and you'll see it. He's gone. This is a . . .

  No, no, it's not.

  It is.

  Shadow stalker.

  This was the missing piece. The one part that had made her think it wasn't shadow stalkers in the forest. Because they hadn't seen this. The risen dead. The manifested form.

  Her father was gone. This . . . thing was a twisted spirit inhabiting his body. He was . . .

  Her breath caught, and it stayed caught, and she stood there, unable to draw air, chest burning, vision blurring.

  Dead. My father is dead. This thing killed him.

  She let out a howl, flew at the creature, slashing at it with her blade. She had no compunctions now. This wasn't her father--it was a killer, a parasite. It had murdered her father, and now it was using his body, and she would not let that happen.

  Her blade slashed its leathery skin. The bloodless cut only made the thing shriek in rage. Talons sliced through her cloak. Daigo leaped on its back, fangs sinking into its neck. It tried to claw at the wildcat. When it couldn't reach, it swung at Moria instead.

  This time, the talons caught her side, under her cloak. Pain ripped through her. Daigo snarled, shaking the thing, his teeth biting in until she heard a snap. Its neck broke, head falling to one side, but still it kept scratching at her.

  She stabbed it in the heart. It grabbed at her and caught her by the cloak. She tried to wrest free, but its claws were embedded. She yanked the clasp and broke away, leaving the thing fighting with her cloak. Then she spun, dagger raised, as Daigo leaped to her side. They dove at the thing together and . . .

  A gust of wind knocked them back. As Moria fell, she saw the creature, in shadow form now--that twisting, writhing smoke rising from her father's body. It rose, then shot past her, and it was gone.