Sea of Shadows (7 page)

Eleven

T
he sun still hadn’t risen. If anything, the forest had grown darker and the air colder. Moria’s breath puffed as she walked.

Shadow stalkers.

Did she truly believe that’s what she’d seen? She wasn’t sure. As much as she loved chilling tales, they were simply delicious paths for the imagination to wander.

And yet . . .

She peered into the forest and gripped her dagger tighter. She was still scouring the woods when one of the lanterns flickered. The light wavered again . . . and went out.

Oswald called for the procession to halt while he relit it. Moria gazed out into the surrounding grayness. The swirling shadows were gone. They had been since they’d begun the return trek. While the forest beyond wasn’t a pleasant sight—gnarled trees, hanging moss—it was empty.

“It won’t ignite,” Oswald said.

“Here,” Jonas said.

As he tried to light Oswald’s lantern, his own went out.

“That happened to us earlier,” Ashyn whispered to Moria.

Moria nodded. “If you can relight them while you walk, then do so. Otherwise, keep moving and—”

Jonas pitched forward, the lantern sailing from his hands and crashing to the ground. Then the guard disappeared, flat on his stomach, arms flailing as something dragged him into the undergrowth.

Moria and Daigo charged after him.

Moria raced through the forest as she clawed vines aside.

I shouldn’t have left Ashyn
.
I know it’s my duty to protect everyone, and Ashyn can keep the spirits at bay. But I shouldn’t have left her.

Her foot caught on a vine. She didn’t have time to even break her fall before she went down hard, chin hitting the ground, blade flying from her hand. She leaped up, but the vine held her fast. Daigo fell on it, snarling, pulling it so hard she fell again, tears springing to her eyes.

Tears? Truly?

She pushed Daigo away and managed to sit up, swiping at her eyes and cursing.

When she heard a noise, she looked up to see Gavril hacking his way through the vines.

“Here!” she called.

As she struggled to cut herself free, Daigo hovered anxiously and Gavril had to shove him out of the way. The wildcat snarled but backed off.

Gavril dropped to his knees and slashed the vine so angrily she expected the blade to go right into her leg. When she was free, she leaped to her feet, looking in every direction, straining to listen.

The forest was silent. Jonas had been taken. She’d been his only hope and she’d lost him. Because she’d tripped. Over a vine.

She bent to Daigo. “Where is he?”

The wildcat looked back the way they’d come.

“
No
. Where is Jonas?”

Daigo butted her legs, again in Ashyn’s direction. When Moria ignored him, he caught her breeches and tugged, growling.

“Your wildcat is telling you that your duty is back there, Keeper,” Gavril said. “With the others. Protecting them. Not chasing after—”

She spun on him. “If you tell me I’m chasing butterflies, I swear I’ll stake you to a tree and leave you for the shadow stalkers.”

“Is that what you think they are? Shadow stalkers?”

His tone had softened, and she deflated. “I don’t know.”

“Your duty is to protect the group, not the individual. The group is back there with your sister. That’s what your cat is trying to tell you. You can’t help Jonas.”

“I was too slow. I should have grabbed him before they dragged him off.”

He exhaled, almost a sigh. “No one else could either.”

“I’m supposed to be better than that. I need to be.”

She found her blade and let Daigo lead her back the way they’d come. As they walked, Moria caught Ashyn’s voice.

“Ignore it,” Ashyn was saying. “Stay close to me and don’t—”

“They’re closing in! We need to run!” It was Levi. The fool.

“Not without my sister.”

“Then
you
wait for your sister.”

Running footfalls sounded. Levi had bolted.

Moria started to run. Gavril leaped in front of her and barreled along the path.

“No!” Ashyn’s voice. “Oswald! Don’t go after him!”

Moria heard Oswald’s and Levi’s pounding footsteps as they took off, deeper into the forest.

“By the spirits!” The snarled shout came from the boy, Ronan. “Are you both mad? Get back—!”

A scream cut him short. Moria had once heard a terrible scream once when a guard lost his arm during a drunken sword fight. This was beyond that. And it was Levi’s voice.

Moria tried to push past Gavril as they ran. When he wouldn’t move, she ducked, but his arm shot out and she ran into it with an
oomph
.

“It’s too late,” he said.

“It’s not. You go to Ashyn and take care of her. I—”

“No.”

She let out a hiss of frustration and dodged past him. He grabbed for her, but she was too fast. She ran, as Daigo cleared the way so she wouldn’t trip again.

When she stumbled, Gavril grabbed her cloak, but she’d already recovered. She’d simply tripped in surprise as the forest opened into a small clearing.

They didn’t have a lantern. The only illumination was that sickly gray moonlight. But when Moria stepped into that clearing, she could see, and what she saw was blood.

It was everywhere. Small pools on the moss underfoot. Droplets coating the ferns and saplings. More dripping from leaves.

Moria stood in the middle and turned in a slow circle.

“It can’t be,” she whispered.

“It is.”

She shook her head. “That’s not possible. There’s so . . .” Her voice hitched. “So much.”

Daigo butted against Moria’s legs, growling under his breath.

“Your cat is right,” Gavril said. “You should get back to Ashyn. Levi and Oswald are—”

He stopped. She turned to see him staring down at a patch of brush. In it, she could see a boot, so polished the leather shone in the faint light.

“Do you like them?” Levi asked, pointing at his boots.

“They’re very . . . shiny.”

“The best your father could procure. My family sent me money, and they said I ought to spend it on my uniform. Father says it makes an impression, and I need to do that if I’m going to advance—”

She grabbed him by the tunic and pulled him into a kiss, mostly just to make him stop talking, but ever after that, he was convinced it was the boots, and wore them even in the summer’s heat, always polished to a gleam.

Now she looked down at that boot, at his leg above it, at the blood—

Gavril pulled her back, his grip so tight it hurt. She tried to pull away.

“I need to make sure he’s—”

“I will.” He yanked her behind him as he checked. “He’s dead.”

Beside her, Daigo let out a strangled yowl. Moria dropped her hand to his head to comfort him.

“We need to go,” Gavril said.

She nodded and returned to her sister.

Whatever was in the forest let the four of them leave. Even the path was open and clear, almost . . . helpful. That made Moria uneasy. What could she say, though? That some Keeper instinct told her she
shouldn’t
leave? Daigo understood. He kept up a low, growling hum as they walked.

We should find out what’s in here. That’s my job. To fight, not to flee.

But flee she did. She had to. Get Ashyn to safety. Tell the village what had happened. Then go back in. Find survivors—or the bodies. That was the sensible order of things.

“The sun,” Ashyn whispered. “At last.”

Moria looked up to see shafts of sunlight piercing the canopy.

“I see the second watchtower,” Ashyn said.

As Moria passed, Ronan caught the back of her cloak. She spun, but Gavril was faster, knocking the boy’s hand off her.

Ronan glowered. “I was getting her attention, Kitsune.”

“My name is Gavril. If you wish to speak to her, use words. You do not touch the Keeper. Not if you’d like to keep your hands intact.” He turned to Moria. “Call out a greeting. To warn the guards.”

“So they can come and kill me?” Ronan said. “No one survives the forest. Do you know why? Because you don’t allow—”

“
We
have nothing to do with it.” Ashyn’s voice was soft, but it silenced him. She turned to Moria. “There was another survivor. The governor said he was infected, and the guards killed him.”

“He was
not
infected,” Ronan said.

“Did he
seem
to be?” Moria pressed.

“He did not,” Ashyn said after a moment.

Moria turned back to Ronan. “You can tell the rest of your story to the commander. I will make sure you are allowed to do so. If they claim you are infected, I will ensure that you are properly quarantined, not killed.” She cleared her throat and called to the guards.

Twelve

R
onan was being taken into the prison cells where they kept the damned when conditions weren’t right for the exile journey. Clearly he wasn’t pleased.

“Think of it as quarantine,” Moria said as they climbed down the ladder to the subterranean cells.

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 spot 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.