Sea of Shadows

NINE

Moria sat cross-legged on her sleeping mat, listening to the chatter from the main room, each burst of laughter raking down her spine. “I wish they’d go away,” she muttered to Daigo.

He grumbled his agreement.

“Father doesn’t want them here. He’s only being polite. They ought to see that and leave.”

If her mother were here, would she send them scattering with a snapped word, a snarl? Was that where Moria got it from?

Do not think of her. Not today.

The villagers had come to distract them with companionship, candied fruits, and honey wine. Moria took another gulp from her cup. The wine did seem to help. Less so the companionship.

In the next room, her father said something and the women laughed. It didn’t take much to bring them. At one time, even the imperial court had sought to provide their newest Keeper and Seeker with a mother. They’d sent a pretty nanny of marriageable age with each supply train. Each had been summarily returned. Finally, the court had stopped trying. The village women had not.

Their father was kind and healthy and strong, a good provider who loved his daughters and helped his neighbors and made people smile. Moria often heard the women whisper about how handsome he was, though she couldn’t see it herself. She wished they’d leave him alone. He clearly did not want to marry. He did have “friends,” and Moria was old enough to know that when he went to visit one of the widows, he was not playing capture-my-lord. That didn’t bother Moria. It was a perfectly sensible solution.

She scowled as the women tittered again. Then she noticed Daigo looking toward the window.

“You’re right,” she said. “We should be going.”

She hopped up and knelt where Tova lay. He was sleeping now, thanks to a brew from Healer Mabill’s husband. Still, it was a fitful sleep as the big hound twitched and moaned, worrying about Ashyn.

“I’ll watch for the flare,” Moria whispered to him. “I’ll make sure she’s all right.”

She walked into the main room, where everyone sat around a blazing fire. As tempting as it was to stamp through with a grunted “Going out,” she couldn’t quite manage it—too much time spent with her father and sister. She murmured vaguely polite greetings as she passed. When she reached the front room, her father appeared, closing the door behind him.

“I’m going out,” she said.

“To wait for the flare.”

She shrugged and pulled on a boot.

“She’s fine, Moria. The flare will come. It always does.”

She’d caught him at the fence at midday, watching for the signal. He’d pretended otherwise, of course—just out for a stroll. That’s the excuse she used now, which only made him sigh.

She leaned over and hugged him. It was a slightly awkward hug—she wasn’t nearly as good at it as Ashyn—but he never seemed to notice, embracing her back and whispering, “Stay on the ground, all right? Please.”

She nodded and slipped into the night with Daigo.

Moria did walk on the ground—all the way to the end of their street. But the road was crowded. She had to pass at least two people and a cart. So when she reached the village wall, she climbed onto it and Daigo hopped up beside her.

True, she had fallen before—once from the wall, once from the roof of the village hall. She’d broken an ankle the first time, a wrist the second. But she regretted neither because they had been lessons. Her father didn’t see it that way, and he swore his heart would fail him when he saw her running atop the high wall.

She didn’t run today. There was no need. The flare wouldn’t come until the moon reached its zenith. So she strolled along the fence top, lifting a hand each time a villager called a greeting. They never worried—she was the Keeper, as sure-footed as her wildcat.

“Off to watch for the flare?” The chicken-keeper’s wife peered from her window. “You needn’t worry, child. The flare will come.”

“I know.”

Before Moria could move on, the woman came out, apron drawn up. “I heard you thrashed the miller’s boy for tormenting the little ones.”

Moria shrugged. “He needed a thrashing; I needed the exercise.”

The woman smiled and held up a wine-skin. “Chicken soup. To keep you warm while you wait.” She plucked two eggs from her apron and passed them up. “I didn’t forget you, Daigo.”

The wildcat chuffed. Moria thanked her and continued on.

Moria paced alongside the first tower. By now even Daigo had grown weary and was lying down, paws tucked in, feigning boredom. Yet at every flicker, he looked to the sky. The flare was late. And no one seemed to notice except her.

“It’s warmer up here,” the guard called from the tower. “I have furs.”

Moria bet he did. Levi was one of the youngest guards, just past his twentieth summer. After the Fire Festival, when she’d had a few too many sips of honey wine, he’d taken her behind the hall and offered to “make her a woman.” He apparently made the same offer to Ashyn after the autumn dance, perhaps hoping to double his chances.

In theory, Moria was not opposed to his proposal. She understood his offer didn’t come with heartfelt promises of undying love. Ashyn was the one who dreamed of romance. Moria’s interest in men was far more practical.

Although the Keeper and the Seeker were not permitted to marry, they could take lovers. While Ashyn envisioned passionate romances, Moria didn’t quite see the point. She did understand the physical allure, though. When she watched the guards strip off their tunics in the summer heat, she could feel her own body temperature rise. Sadly, given Levi’s fumbling embraces, he didn’t quite seem suited to the task. That hadn’t stopped him from trying. Nor had it stopped Moria from allowing the occasional kiss or fondle, in hopes that, with practice, he might get better at it. So far, though, he’d shown no aptitude for learning.

“Moria,” he called. “Come up. It’s too cold down there.”

“I have my cloak,” she said, pulling it tighter.

“It’s too dark.”

She lifted her lantern in answer.

“It’s too dangerous.”

That one wasn’t even worthy of reply.

“Quit your caterwauling, Levi!” yelled a voice behind her.

The newcomer was almost invisible under cover of night, dressed in a dark tunic, breeches, and boots, his skin no lighter. The only color came from his bare forearms, the ink-black tattoos spotted with green, like emerald-studded sleeves.

“No, Gavril,” she said. “I am not trying to sneak into the forest after my sister.”

“You’d better not, Keeper. I meant what I said.”

Daigo growled as anger warmed Moria’s wind-chilled face. “You told me once. That’s enough.”

Two days before the Seeking, Gavril had caught her on the other side of the first tower investigating a possible blind spot that would let her slip past the canyon wall. Gavril hadn’t simply warned her against going into the forest. He’d reminded her about the last party of the damned to enter the forest. How a young man carried her sacred blade. A non-warrior. An exile.

Gavril had been guarding the exiles that night, and he’d seen her give her dagger to the boy. Then he’d held on to that knowledge… to use against her.

She’d asked him to let her go into the forest. No, not asked. Shame heated her cheeks as she remembered. She’d begged him. Moria would only follow the party—she wouldn’t interfere. She would let Ashyn know she was there, so Ashyn could relax and do her job. That was all.

He’d refused. If she went, he’d tell the governor about the dagger, and her father would be punished. That’s how it worked—they couldn’t punish the Keeper, so her father took it in her stead. For such a crime, he might even be exiled.

How could Gavril make such a threat when his own father had been sent into the forest?

“You’d best hope your sister finds that boy’s corpse,” he said. “And that she has the sense to hide your blade.”

She looked at him, stone-faced. “You can leave now, Kitsune. You’ve done your duty, checking on me.”

“I’m here to make sure you stay within the walls and don’t go flitting after butterflies.”

She fought the urge to shoot her fist at him. She’d used that excuse once, when he caught her up to trouble. I was only chasing butterflies. Now he kept bringing it up, and she wasn’t sure if he knew she’d been lying or if that was truly how he saw her—a child chasing butterflies. “The flare isn’t coming. I’m going to speak to the commander.”

TEN

Moria hadn’t been the only one watching the sky. When they reached the barracks, her father was coming out, the commander at his side. They were assembling a search party.

By the time the party was ready, there was little doubt that something had gone wrong with the Seeking. The moon was halfway from zenith to the treetops now.

“I’ll need a blade. I couldn’t find mine this morning,” Moria lied as she adjusted her boots. “If there isn’t an extra dagger, I’ll take a sword.”

The commander shook his head. “The Keeper is not permitted a sword until she passes her eighteenth—”

“Then a dagger will do.” She walked to Gavril. “I’ll borrow yours. The spirits demand it.”

He looked at her, as if surprised that she’d dare single him out when he knew she’d not misplaced her blade that morning. What she truly meant, though, was: If you’re going to tell them what happened to mine, then do it.

“I can’t give you my dagger, Keeper, because I’m going into the forest.” Gavril turned to one of the sleep-woken guards. “I’ll take your place.”

“Then I’ll take your blade,” Moria said to the same guard.

The sleepy guard handed it over. Moria looked at her father and held her breath until he gave a slow nod. She hugged him and whispered, “I’ll bring her back.” Then she hurried after the others.

Moria strode through the dark forest, holding a frayed length of red ribbon.

“The rest has to be here.” She turned to see Levi, Oswald, and the other guard—Jonas—clustered around, watching her. “You have lanterns. Look for it.”

“We have.” Levi’s voice took on a whine. “The ribbon is gone. We need to head back.”

“The village is that way.” Moria pointed into the darkness. “Anyone else who thinks saving the Seeker and the governor is too much work can go with him.”

Gavril had not stopped searching for the ribbon. After a moment’s pause, the other three joined him, while following the trail of cut and broken branches.

It should have been dawn by now. The others were probably telling themselves that the rays of weak light were the rising sun, but Moria knew it was the moon. Night was her time. The Keeper. Bond-mate of the cat. Protector of the night. Daughter of the moon.

Moria had been in the forest before. Not far. It was the Seeker who ventured in while the Keeper guarded the mouth. But those short trips to the second guard tower had told her what to expect. The cold, hollow weight of death.

They kept walking until Levi said, “Does anyone else hear that?”

Before Moria could reply, something darted through the trees. She glanced at Gavril. His grip tightened on his sword. Daigo’s growl rose until it vibrated through the air.

A shadow bolted past, so close that Daigo spat, fur rising. Two of the lanterns flickered. The third sputtered out.

“Everyone back!” Moria said. “We just passed a clearing. Retreat to that. We can fight there.”

Fight shadows? With what? Swords?

When Gavril opened his mouth, she tensed for argument, but he barked, “Get back! Move!”

Moria and Gavril herded the others to the clearing. There they clustered in a ring, backs together, blades out. Shadows wove and dodged through the forest around them.

Moria channeled her energy and commanded the spirits to be gone. The men shifted and muttered under their breath. When one of the shadows passed close, Levi lunged at it.

“No!” Moria shouted. “Stay in formation!”

Oswald yanked Levi back. Then, from deep inside the forest, came a voice.

“Moria!”

“Ashyn,” she breathed. She started to take a step in that direction, then stopped herself and looked back at the others.

“You think it’s a trick?” Levi whispered when she hesitated.

No, but I think if I leave this clearing, you’ll all be dead.

She could hear someone crashing through the bushes. She looked down to see Daigo leaning toward the noise, ears up, tail swishing, poised to run.

“Go,” she whispered.

The wildcat shot off noiselessly through the woods. Moria waited, her heart thumping. Please, please, please.

“Daigo!” Ashyn called.

The sound of running footsteps resumed, and Moria had to fight to stay where she was. When she saw her sister’s pale hair, she relaxed. Then she saw her sister’s eyes, wide with terror as she ran. There was a shape right behind her. A dark shadow—

No, not a shadow. A flesh-and-blood being with a blade in his hand. Chasing Ashyn.

The moment Daigo and Ashyn stepped into the clearing, Moria hit her sister’s pursuer square-on, knocking him to the ground, pinning his arms as a blade flashed.

Her gaze flew to that blade first. It was her dagger.

“This feels familiar,” said a voice below her.

She looked down to see the young exile she’d given her blade.

“Moria,” he said, grinning, as if she’d knocked him down in a game of catch-me.

She wrested her dagger from his fingers. “Is this how you repay me, boy?” When he tried to get up, she pressed the tip to his throat. “You used my blade to attack my sister?”

“Moria, no,” Ashyn said. “He’s with me. We were fleeing whatever’s out there.”

“And you just happened upon him?”

Ashyn seemed as if she’d like to say yes, that’s what happened, but she could not lie to her sister. “His uncle captured me. Briefly. No one harmed me, though, and his uncle is dead. Now let him up. Please.”

Daigo padded over and stood guard as Moria rose. Her sister fell into her arms, head on her shoulder. Moria didn’t ask if she was all right. Physically, she seemed to be. In other ways? No, she would not be all right. Moria held her sister until Ashyn sniffled and stepped back, dry-eyed and fighting for composure.

“Save the tears, Keeper,” Gavril said, though she’d given no sign of crying herself. “We need to go.”

As much as his words and tone grated, he was right. Moria turned to the exile. “My wildcat is watching you, boy. No sudden moves.”

“My name’s Ronan.”

She snorted as he rose and brushed himself off.

“May I have that dagger?” he asked.

“I think you’ve had quite enough use of it,” she said.

“Not yours. That one.” He pointed at the one she’d been using.

“No. Now walk in front of me.”

He sighed and started around her. Then he stumbled on a vine, his hand shooting out to brace himself against her. As she shoved him away, the lantern light glinted off a dagger in his hand. Her fingers shot to her belt, and she cursed.

“Give that back,” she said.

“Don’t, Rya,” Ashyn said. “You have yours. Everyone ought to be armed out here. He knows how to use it, so obviously he’s a warrior. He ought to have a blade.”

Ronan’s expression confirmed that as Gavril had guessed, the boy wasn’t warrior caste. Yet even if she didn’t think a blade would help against the shadows, no one should be defenseless.

“What about the others?” Levi said. “The governor and the rest of the Seeking party.”

“They’re gone,” Ronan said. “Your governor. Your guards. Your villagers. They’ve vanished and all that’s left is blood.”

“Who attacked them?” Gavril asked.

“Those…” Ashyn waved at the shapes flitting through the woods. “Those things.”

“Shadow stalkers,” Moria whispered.

Ronan shook his head. “They’re black smoke.”

“Which is one form that shadow—” Moria began.

“It doesn’t matter what they are,” Ashyn cut in. “The Seeking party is gone.”

“Can we stop talking and start walking?” Ronan looked out at the forest. “Running wouldn’t be a bad idea either.”

Moria hesitated, then nodded. “Form a line. Gavril at the end. Daigo and I will— No, you—” She pointed at Ronan. “Get in front, where you can’t stab anyone in the back.”

His face darkened. “I wouldn’t—”

“I’m not taking that chance. Now move.”

ELEVEN

The 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 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 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 that 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.” She cleared her throat and called to the guards.

TWELVE

Ronan 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,” she 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 go back 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.

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 yowled, a long, plaintive cry 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 couldn’t swing it down, her arm refusing to move, her mind telling her this was her father, no matter what she was seeing. 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.

Moria walked to her father’s body. No, not her father. Not truly. It still looked like that twisted thing. A mockery of her father, lying on the floor, clutching her cloak, blood everywhere.

She ought to lift him back onto the padded mat. She ought to kiss his cheek and weep. But this wasn’t her father. She could no longer see it as her father. Ashyn would. Ashyn—

Ashyn.

Moria spun and ran out the door.

Moria stood in the junction between two lanes. She looked toward the barracks, then the forest. The choice ought to be simple. Everyone was gone. Dead. Massacred by the shadow stalkers. She needed to get to Ashyn right away.

And yet, when she listened, she heard voices in the forest. Not the screeches of the shadow stalkers, but actual voices. Was it possible some guards had lived? The shadow stalkers could have slipped past them in shadow form.

She looked at Daigo, but the wildcat was doing the same thing, his attention swinging from those voices to the barracks and back.

Ashyn. It had to be Ashyn. Her sister was all she had left now that—

Moria’s knees buckled as pain washed over her. Daigo slid beneath her outstretched hands.

“I have you, too. I know.” But it wasn’t the same, because he was almost an extension of herself.

As she turned toward the barracks, she caught a flash of red-gold hair, streaming behind a figure darting between buildings.

“Ashyn?”

Of course it was. They were the only fair-haired Northerners in Edgewood now that their father…

Moria stifled the thought and raced after her sister. When she reached the end of the road, she caught sight of yellowish fur running around the next corner.

She whistled, but Tova didn’t come back. She ran after them and again she got to the road’s end just in time to see a flash—of both figures this time, her sister and her hound, running like the spirits of the damned were chasing them. Running toward the forest.

“Ashyn! Tova!”

They didn’t stop. Behind her, she heard that now-familiar snarling, moaning shriek, and she turned to see a twisted figure in an open doorway. A shadow stalker in human form. It lunged at her. She wheeled and tore off after Ashyn.