“My lady,” a voice said behind her.
She jumped and whirled. Tova leaped up, too, and raced in front of her, growling. Light flooded the room. Torches, carried by three figures in long, white fur cloaks, the hoods pulled up over their heads, their faces lost within.
“You know what that is then, my child?” the first figure said.
She nodded.
He paused, as if waiting for her to say the words aloud.
“A snow dragon,” she said.
He pulled down his hood, and she saw a man, pale-skinned and white-haired, with tribal tattoos on his cheeks. Tattoos of dragons, done not in the imperial style, but in the intricate art of the North. And his eyes… He had golden eyes with slitted pupils.
Like a dragon…
He dropped to one knee, the other two doing the same behind him.
“My lady Ashyn,” he said. “Seeker of Edgewood. Blessed of the empire and the North alike. Child of my child.” He rose. “I am Edwyn of Coldwall.”
“Of Coldwall? My parents were from…” She slowed, remembering what else he’d called her. “Child of…?”
He smiled. “Of my child. Daughter of my daughter. Your family welcomes you. Your true family.”
FIFTY
Moria fell from the tree, branches lashing her legs. When she passed Daigo, he let out a yowling cry and snapped at her, as if he could grab her tunic and haul her back up.
She hit the ground, one foot squarely down, the other twisting as she dropped to her knee. Pain shot through her. Something touched her hand, startling her, and she jumped, only to feel a warm hand wrap around her wrist.
“Don’t move,” Tyrus whispered.
She turned to see him. He lay behind her on his back. Blood soaked one sleeve. One leg of his trousers was shredded, more blood below. When the cloud cover thinned, she could see half his face wore a red mask of blood. She bit back a gasp and reached for him, but he tightened his grip on her wrist.
“Don’t move.”
He was propped up on his elbow, one hand gripping her, the other slowly pulling his sword. Red eyes and shadows circled them, some so close she could reach out and grab them.
Grab what? A shadow?
That was all they were now. Shadows and eyes. Watching and waiting.
There were so many. Had she truly banished any?
She had. She must have. That’s why the rest were staying back.
“Reach down with your free hand,” he said. “Carefully. Toward me.”
She did, and he directed her until she felt the cool handle of her dagger. She pulled it to her. At a chirp overhead, she looked up to see Daigo on the lowest branch, his tail twitching as his gaze swung from her to the fiend dogs.
“You’ll use your powers to hold them back,” Tyrus said. “And we’ll get out of the forest. Lord Okami’s warriors will be there.”
And what will they do? We can’t fight these things. My powers can barely —
“You’re going to hold them back.” He met her gaze and held it, his voice low and strong. “Just keep them at bay.”
It might work; it might not. But it was the only chance they had, so that was what they’d do, and she must believe it would work, because if she didn’t, they had no chance at all.
She nodded. Tyrus pushed to his feet. One of the fiend dogs charged him. Moria slashed out with her dagger, knowing even as she did that steel couldn’t cut shadow. But the beast still fell back, snarling. When it did, she saw fangs and a snout, the shadow taking form, and she started to look away —
No. She’d already seen them. If she was doomed, she was doomed, but if she cowered and looked away, then she’d have no chance. Fear would kill her.
Moria took a deep breath and met the beast’s red eyes. It stared back at her, growling, lips curling, and slowly it took the form of a giant dog. A giant hound. A black Tova.
Except you aren’t Tova. He was a great warrior. You were a coward. He is honored. You are damned.
The fiend dog snarled, as if she’d spoken aloud.
I don’t fear you. You are but a spirit. I’ll send you back from where you came.
She focused her power and the beast began to fade. Before it vanished, though, another one lunged and broke her concentration. She let out a snarl of her own.
“Don’t try to banish them,” Tyrus said. “It puts your focus on one. Just hold them back. Daigo?”
The wildcat leaped down beside them. The fiend dogs grumbled and paced, but none moved forward.
“This way,” Tyrus said, nudging her.
She started walking with the young warrior and the wildcat flanking her. She focused on keeping the fiend dogs back, but as soon as she began moving, the beasts did, too, as if freed from a spell. They snapped and lunged, getting ever closer despite her efforts, until Tyrus hissed in pain as one caught his leg, biting him and then jumping back when his sword flashed.
“Keep moving,” Tyrus said. “We’ll be fine.”
Another jumped, this time at Daigo. The wildcat snarled. The beast grabbed him by the back of the neck. Moria swung her blade, but it passed through the shadowy figure as the fiend dog ripped at Daigo, blood flying, the wildcat yowling.
“Begone!” she shouted. “By the ancestors, begone!”
The fiend dog fell back, growling, fangs flashing. Daigo puffed himself up and faced off with the beast.
Moria kept retreating. Behind them, the fiend dogs parted, but only enough to let the group pass. One leaped at Daigo. Moria spun on it, another slashed at Tyrus.