Empire of Night

by Kelley Armstrong

  "Moria?" Tyrus whispered. "Talk to me."

  Tell me what you're thinking.

  She didn't know what to say. She feared if she put her thoughts into words, he'd think her foolish. Like Gavril. Mocking her for her stories and her imagination.

  "Moria . . ."

  Tyrus leaned against her, his hand on her waist, his breath warm against the side of her head, both the touch and the whisper of breath reassuring. You can talk to me. I'm not Gavril. I don't mock.

  "I don't hear anything," she whispered. "That's not natural, and I fear . . ."

  "That whatever's out there isn't natural either."

  She nodded, and he said nothing. She expected to see that recoil of disbelief, of not wanting to insult her but thinking she was indeed being foolish. Instead, she saw him peering into the shadowy forest, his dark eyes bright, his lips slightly pursed. Looking and thinking, equally hard.

  "Not thunder hawks or death worms," he mused. "Wrong landscape for either. Not shadow stalkers either."

  She could have laughed as he voiced exactly what she'd been thinking.

  "It could be someone with a tracking hound," she said.

  "A very quiet hound. Having spent time in Tova's company, I'm not sure that's possible. A hunting cat, perhaps."

  Daigo harrumphed, looking pleased.

  Tyrus continued. "But if it was a hunting cat, I would hope Daigo would know. In fact, I should hope he'd know what it was regardless."

  The wildcat's eyes narrowed.

  "Daigo," he said. "Why don't you go see what's out there?"

  The wildcat backed up, bumping into Moria's legs and sitting on his haunches at her feet. He stretched out a giant paw, claws extending.

  "No, you don't need to watch over Moria. I can do that."

  Daigo motioned with his nose to the forest, as if to say, I'll stand guard. You go investigate.

  "He listens about as well as you do," Tyrus said to Moria. "And argues as much, too."

  "Which is why I don't try to give him orders."

  She lowered her hand to Daigo's head, rubbing behind his neck. He let out a rumbling purr, looked at Tyrus, and sniffed.

  "We don't see anything and neither does he," Moria said. "I'd suggest, instead of standing here debating our next step, we simply move. This way?"

  She motioned, and Tyrus nodded. "The forest thins after a while. I was able to ride partway in, and I brought a horse for you. They're camped over there."

  "Good. If there is something in this forest, we'll do better escaping it on horseback."

  As they set out, the moon passed behind cloud cover, stealing the little bit of light that guided them. Tyrus pulled a torch from his cloak and handed it to Moria, leaving both his hands free for his sword. The torch was small, barely enough to light their way. Larger, though, and it would have been a beacon for anyone who came after them.

  Daigo's head swiveled as they walked. With every few steps, he'd pause, gaze whipping in one direction or the other. He'd peer into the pitch-black forest, then chuff, telling Moria he could see or hear nothing, and they'd continue on.

  Something was out there. But perhaps it wasn't a threat. Not every fantastical creature was inherently dangerous.

  "It can't be dragons either," Tyrus said as they walked. "They'd be larger. Noisier."

  He was smiling wryly, as if he knew she was doing the same thing, running through the list of possibilities.

  "Definitely not dragons," she agreed. "Nor--"

  She caught a glimpse of red in the forest and stopped short. Red eyes. She'd seen red eyes.

  "Did you . . . ?" she whispered.

  Daigo grunted, and Tyrus shook his head. Neither had noticed. She resumed walking.

  "Not water horses either," she said, "given the complete lack of water."

  Tyrus chuckled. "I've seen a stream or two. Perhaps they are much smaller than in the stories."

  "Sadly, so far, nothing is smaller than in the stories. But I would be quite happy with tiny water horses or dragons the size of dragonflies or . . ."

  She trailed off.

  "Moria?"

  I think I know what it is. That's what she wanted to say, but she stopped herself. There was an entire bestiary of magical and lost creatures that Alvar Kitsune could have resurrected, and while they were joking about narrowing the possibilities, the truth was that it would be nearly impossible to guess. If she thought she knew, that was only because her mind was leaping to the worst possible conclusion.

  Or the most likely conclusion?

  If something fantastical lived in these woods, it was because Alvar Kitsune put it there to keep out those who slipped past the guards at the forest's edge. And if one had to resurrect a creature to quietly guard a forest, it would not be a death worm or a thunder hawk or even a dragon, but a monstrous spirit of myth, like shadow stalkers . . . only worse.

  She peered into the forest again and caught another flash of crimson.

  "I saw that," Tyrus whispered. "Red eyes."

  She nodded.

  "That's all I saw. No shape."

  That's all you will see, if I'm correct.

  "How much farther?" she asked.

  "We're almost there."

  "Can we go faster?"

  He nodded.

  "Just don't run," she said. "Whatever you do, don't run."

  "You think it's--" He cut himself off with a curse. "Of course."

  "I could be wrong." I hope to the ancestors I am. "Just keep moving. Don't try to see them."

  "Believe me, I don't want to see them."

  She made a noise of agreement under her breath. Daigo had fallen back beside her now, guarding her on one side, Tyrus at the other.

  "It's a grove of white birch," he whispered. "I see it ahead."

  She detected the faint glow of the trees, visible even in the darkness.

  "Are the horses tied?" she whispered.

  "Well tied."

  "Good. We'll have to be fast. Jump on, slash the ropes, and go." And hope the steeds could outrun the beasts that followed. If anything could outrun the beasts that followed.

  "The gelding is on the left," Tyrus whispered. "He's a bay. The gray mare is yours."

  She nodded. They both clutched their blades, slowing their steps, peering toward the glade, ready to rush forward the moment they saw--

  Daigo let out a snort and tried to leap in front of Moria, but she was already stumbling over whatever he'd noticed in her path. It looked like a fallen branch and she was righting herself, cursing, when Tyrus inhaled sharply.

  Bone protruded from the end of the "branch." Bloody bone and shredded flesh and, on the other end, a hoof.

  "The horses," he whispered. "They've killed . . ."

  He didn't need to finish. He and Moria raced forward, both calling a warning to the other to stop as they realized, simultaneously, what they'd done. They'd run, and it was only for a few steps, but it was enough. All around them the forest erupted in growls. Red eyes flashed in the darkness.

  They stumbled into the clearing. Tyrus tripped this time, and Moria looked down to see him stagger away from the head of the gray mare. The remains of the horses were everywhere, whole pieces and sometimes no more than bone, the flesh stripped as cleanly as if vultures had feasted for days. There was blood, too, and she slid on a rope of entrails.

  Tyrus grabbed her arm to steady her. Then he swung her around behind him, his blade out, the two of them back-to-back. The forest had gone silent now, but Moria could sense the beasts circling. Daigo hissed and spat. When those red eyes flashed in the darkness, he lunged, only to slide on the blood-slick grass and dance away, snarling, his fur on end, ears laid flat. When Daigo looked up, Moria whispered, "Trees. We need to climb a tree."

  "The birch are too small."

  "I know."

  Moria lifted her torch and squinted into the semidarkness.

  "There," she whispered, pointing to an oak outside the grove.

  Tyrus shifted, as if flexing hi
s knees while he contemplated the distance.

  "Twenty paces," she said.

  "I have the bigger blade. You'll go first."

  "No, you ought--"

  Daigo cut off her argument with a growl. Just go.

  Moria inhaled and they turned as one, putting her in direct line with the tree.

  "You'll be right behind me?" she whispered.

  "You have my word," he said.

  Which meant yes--without question, yes. She exhaled, adjusted her dagger and the torch, crouched, and counted to three under her breath so Tyrus could hear. Then she ran.

  FORTY-SIX

  Moria held the torch as high as she could to light the way for Tyrus. She could hear him right behind her, so close the sound of his breathing seemed to drown out the pounding of his boots. When she strained, she caught the swish of grass as Daigo ran off to Tyrus's side. What she could not hear was the sound of pursuit. It didn't matter. The beasts were there, right there, on Tyrus's heels, and she didn't need to look back to confirm that.

  When Moria reached the tree, she whipped around. There they were--a seething mass of red eyes and dark shadows. She pitched the torch at them, wheeled again, and jammed her dagger into the tree trunk. She used it as a climbing spike, yanked herself up, and grabbed the lowest branch. She swung onto the limb, leaving the dagger behind. She leaped up onto the branch and took the next one. Soon, Daigo was beside her and Tyrus was on the limb she'd just vacated. She kept going until she was as high as the branches would hold her weight. Then she stretched out on her stomach.

  Tyrus reached the branch below hers and handed up her dagger. They both lay with their arms wrapped around the tree, staring down into the night.

  The thrown torch had ignited the dry grass, but it only smoldered and smoked, obscuring more than it revealed. Then, as they regained their breath, the clouds overhead drifted past the moon, not clearing it but stretching thin enough for the beams to penetrate.

  At first, Moria still saw only red eyes. But as she watched, she could make out shadowy shapes, writhing in the darkness below. When she squinted, one of the shapes seemed to take form into--

  "Don't look." Tyrus reached up to grip her arm.

  "I know but--"

  "Don't look. Please. I don't care if the stories are true or not. Don't take that chance, however curious you are. Please. For me."

  She tugged her gaze from the shapes below.

  "Think of something else," Tyrus said. "Tell me about them."

  "You already know--"

  "A little." He managed a wry smile. "Share your expertise and perhaps we can figure a way out of this."

  We can't. It doesn't matter if we've seen them or not. There's no escape from--

  "Fiend dogs," she blurted, feeling a mix of relief and fear naming them. "They're fiend dogs. You'll see only shadows and eyes. But if you look long enough, they'll take the form of giant black dogs. They're both a warning of death and death itself. If you see one, it'll chase you until it catches you, and then it'll kill you." She hesitated. "There's no escape."

  "Ignore that part. I don't believe it. Keep going."

  She opened her mouth, but her heart hammered too hard for words. Thunder hawks, death worms, even shadow stalkers . . . they could be stopped, if not killed outright. Fiend dogs caught scent of their prey and chased it right into the second world.

  "Moria . . ."

  She swallowed hard. Even without looking down, she knew the fiend dogs were there. Growling now, snarling and snapping invisible jaws. Snorting and grunting. The tree vibrated as one jumped against it.

  "They can't climb," Tyrus said. "Keep talking. You'll find something useful. I know you will."

  She nodded. "Fiend dogs aren't like death worms or thunder hawks or dragons. Those are beasts of legend. True beasts, like a hound or a cat. They live and feed and breathe and bleed. They're said to have once roamed the earth and died out. Fiend dogs are like shadow stalkers. They aren't alive, not truly. Legend says they're the souls of warriors who betrayed their lords, forced to forever roam the earth in service of their new lord: death. They're--"

  "Spirits."

  "Yes, which means they're incorporeal and can take the form of shadow or dog."

  "No, I mean they're spirits. Like shadow stalkers. You can fight shadow stalkers."

  "In corporeal form, yes, you can--"

  "No, Moria." He met her gaze. "You can fight shadow stalkers. You have fought them. Banished them. You're the Keeper."

  It was a testament to her terror that she had to process his words, slowly realizing the truth of them. The obvious truth. If these were like the shadow stalkers, she could banish the spirits.

  "There's no guarantee," she said slowly. "It was not easy with the shadow--"

  "You can do it. I know you can." He grinned, and when he did, that smile seemed to snatch her fear and pitch it as far as her dagger might fly. It wasn't a grin that said, You'll save me. It said, I believe in you, and whether you can banish them or not, I know you'll try, and if you can't do it, then no one could.

  The tree shook as one of the fiend dogs threw itself against the trunk. Then another did the same, and she had to grip the limb with both arms as the spirits battered the tree from below.

  "Just hold on," Tyrus said. "I won't let you fall."

  Again, this wasn't anything he could promise. He meant that if she dropped, he'd grab her, and if it pulled them both down, then he would fall with her. Die with her. She looked into his eyes and thought, So this is what all the fuss is about. This was what the bards sang about. What Ashyn swooned about. And it wasn't nearly as silly and pointless as she thought.

  "I can do this," she said.

  That grin blazed again. "Of course you can."

  "And the sooner I start, the better, right?"

  He chuckled. "I wouldn't say that."

  "Even if you'd secretly and heartily agree." She smiled back at him and the last of her fear evaporated.

  I'm the Keeper. I don't fear spirits; they fear me.

  Moria closed her eyes and focused her energy, as she had with the shadow stalkers.

  Begone. You don't belong here. By the power of the ancestors . . .

  And on it went. Not the most exciting of rituals. In fact, its only saving grace was that she could say the words in her head. Otherwise, she'd have felt like an idiot, spouting them aloud like the mad prophets who wandered through the Wastes.

  She called on the ancestors and all their power, and if, perhaps, there was an occasional deviation from the script, one that reminded the ancestors of all that Moria had been through, and all the times the ancestors seemed to have forsaken her, with the very impious suggestion that, perhaps, she deserved a little extra help now, well--as Ashyn would say, that only proved Moria was feeling more herself.

  Below, the fiend dogs continued leaping at the tree, shaking it more each time, as if they'd realized that their combined efforts had more effect.

  Were Moria's own efforts doing anything at all? Truly? They were spirits, blast it. She ought to be able--

  "There!" Tyrus said.

  Her eyes flew open.

  "Sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but it's working. You banished one. I saw it leaping at the tree, and then it--"

  Another bash, this one hard enough to knock his chin against the limb he was lying on, and he must have bit his tongue, cursing as he did.

  "You ought not to be looking down," she said.

  "I'm glancing down. Now keep at it."

  She did, harder now, spurred by her success. She kept her eyes squeezed shut and listened as Tyrus said, "There's another gone. And another."

  Daigo had leaped onto the branch over her head, and his tail dangled, flicking against her shoulder as if patting her on the back. Below, though, the fiend dogs grew frenzied, fighting her efforts by throwing themselves ever harder at the tree trunk. When a particularly hard knock pitched her forward, she grabbed the limb, her eyes flicking open as she sta
red down to see a huge black shape leaping at her.

  She saw the beast. Saw its fangs and its form, coming straight at her, high in the tree. Tyrus let out a gasp and went for his sword.

  "No!" she shouted.

  He realized his mistake in time and grabbed for the tree branch instead. The fiend dog hit the trunk just below Tyrus and fell, but another was already leaping.

  "Higher!" she said. "We need to go higher!"

  And what good would that do? It didn't matter how high they went. It was like running from them--they could not escape.

  "Begone!" she snarled, throwing all her power into the word. "I command you, begone!"

  The beast evaporated in a puff of black smoke. Another was already coming up, not leaping but climbing, scrabbling up the tree as if it were merely a steep incline.

  "Begone!" she shouted.

  It kept coming. She kept shouting, louder now, until her ears rang, but the beast continued climbing. She gripped her dagger.

  What good will that do?

  Probably none, but she had to try. The fiend dog was almost an arm's length from Tyrus now, and she wasn't letting it get any closer. She pulled back her dagger--

  The fiend dogs below hit the trunk all at once. The tree jolted so hard it knocked the climbing beast to the ground. She went to grab the limb, but it was too late. Her dagger fell and she followed, one arm still wrapped around the branch, holding on as tight as she could as her legs dropped. Then hands grabbed her around the waist.

  "I've got you," Tyrus said. "Just find your balance. I've got--"

  The fiend dogs hit again. Tyrus's eyes widened, and she realized he wasn't holding onto anything except her. She scrambled to grab him, but as soon as he started to drop, he released her.

  "No!" she shouted.

  He fell, dropping into the leaves and the darkness below. To the fiend dogs below. A snarl sounded overhead. Then a dark shape leaped past her. Daigo jumping down, branch by branch. The fiend dogs snarled and snapped. Tyrus let out a stifled cry. Moria was already climbing down, right behind Daigo, but that way was slow, too blasted slow. She remembered the horses in the grove, ripped to pieces, and she let go, hurtling like a rock toward the ground. Toward Tyrus. Toward the fiend dogs.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  When they stopped for the night, Ronan figured they were still nearly a day from Okami's compound. They made camp by a stream.

  "Do you think Tyrus will be there yet?" Ashyn asked as they ate dried fish and fruit.