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.
“We can’t do this,” she said. “It’s too slow, and they’re growing bolder. We must run.”
“We—”
“Run or creep, it doesn’t matter now. They have our scent. I’ll hold them back while you go on ahead.”
“Absolutely not.”
She turned to meet his eyes as he lifted his sword.
“I’ll not—” he began.
“You will.”
“No, I—”
“Then we die. I can’t keep them from you. I can only give you a head start. If you don’t take it, then we continue going like this.”
Another fiend dog jumped at Tyrus, snagging his leg before he kicked it off with a stifled cry of pain. He glowered at Moria, and she knew that while her point had been made, nothing in Tyrus would let him flee from battle, flee from her side.
“Daigo?” she said.
The wildcat spun and charged Tyrus. The prince stood his ground, his feet planted.
“Don’t you dare—” Tyrus began.
Daigo hit him, knocking him away from Moria. The fiend dogs saw their chance and rushed at him. Daigo spun, hissing and spitting while moving backward, bumping into Tyrus, forcing him to retreat.
“Leave them!” Moria shouted at the shadows. “They are no threat. I’m the one who can banish you.”
She wheeled on the one closest to her and boomed, “Begone, spirit!” so loud the forest rang with her words. To her surprise, the shadow exploded, black shards flying up and dissipating. The rest of the pack hesitated.
“Run,” Moria said to Tyrus. “You can’t get past Daigo.”
He scowled, sword rising as if he’d like to use it on the wildcat.
“I can’t hold them for long,” Moria said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“If you are not—”
“You’ll stop. I know. So I will be.”
Still he hesitated, rocking, unable to break whatever barrier told him, Thou shalt not. Not run. Not turn his back on danger. Not abandon her. Finally, Daigo had to charge him again, forcing him to turn and then battering him until he ran. The fiend dogs tore after them.
“No!” Moria bellowed. “If you touch him again, I swear I will send every last one of you curs to eternal damnation.”
They turned toward her, eyes glowing as their growls rippled through the night.
“Yes, you hear me, curs. That’s what you are. It’s what you were in life, and now you’re condemned to your true forms. Slinking curs. Traitors and cowards.”
The fiend dogs growled louder, pacing around her now.
“You dare attack them?” she said, jabbing a finger at Tyrus and Daigo as they fled. “An imperial prince and a Wildcat of the Immortals? True warriors? Honorable warriors? And me? I’m the Keeper. A mere girl who can grind your worthless spirits beneath her boot—”
They charged at her, but she was expecting it and had been gathering her power as she taunted them. As they came at her, she shouted, “No!” with everything in her, with the power of the goddess herself running through her like bolts of pure energy. The beasts fell back as if hit by a giant wave of force, turning to shadows and red eyes and enraged snarls.
Moria spun on her heel and ran as fast as she could, the ground flying under her feet. There’d been a time when she would no more have fled than Tyrus. When she’d have stood firm, confident in her powers, expecting to see every last fiend dog disappear in a puff of smoke. Now she knew better. Her powers were strong; her powers were not invincible.
Sure enough, she hadn’t gotten far before the beasts recovered and tore after her, howling and baying, hounds on a scent. Ahead, Tyrus looked back for her.
“Keep going!” she shouted.
He did, and as she ran, the clouds thinned again, and she could see Daigo dropping back, running midway between them, close enough to the prince to keep driving him forward but close enough to Moria to return to her if needed. She waved for him to continue on.
Though the fiend dogs’ paws made no sound as they ran, their howls and snarls told her they were gaining ground. When she saw a shape flash out of the corner of her eye, she twisted, and as she did, she hit something in her path and stumbled.
I cannot fall. If I do, I’ll never get up again. They’ll swarm over me as they did Tyrus, and I’ll be lost.
She skidded and grabbed for whatever was nearest—a spindly sapling. Ahead, Tyrus wheeled. The fiend dogs sensed victory. One leaped at her. Fangs slashed her arm, blood spraying.
She wrenched the sapling to propel herself upright, then flung off it, running again, her ankle throbbing, blood flicking from her arm. Another fiend dog lunged and knocked into her, and she pitched forward, both hands out to brace her fall—
No! I will not fall. I will not.
Again, she managed to stagger into a run. Daigo was there now, snarling and hissing at the fiend dogs as he raced alongside her. Tyrus had circled back, and she shouted for him to keep going, but he wouldn’t. He came as close as he dared, then led the way, running barely five paces ahead of her.
“There’s something up there,” he said. “I see light.”
All she saw was dark and treacherous forest. Then shards of moonlight flooded what looked like open plain. The edge of the forest. Where Lord Okami’s men waited.
Did that help?
Yes, it must. Something kept the fiend dogs in the forest, or they’d wander out into the world in search of prey. Magics bound them there.
And if not, then the men would have horses. Fast horses.
Daigo let out a grunt of surprise, and she looked at him quickly, thinking one of the fiend dogs had grabbed him, but they were falling behind, as if they knew their boundary approached. Daigo’s ears twisted as he ran, his nose moving, too. His eyes went wide, and he started skidding to a halt just as two of the fiend dogs found one last burst of determination and barreled forward.
“Go!” Moria shouted.
Daigo looked from the creatures to the clearing ahead, but he didn’t move. Moria grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and heaved him forward, muttering, “Blast you” as he let out a yelp of surprise. Moria saw what was wrong. Tyrus stopped, his arms flying out to hold her back as he stood on the edge of the forest. No . . . on the edge of the world, which seemed to end here. Simply end. There was land, and then there was sky, dark, night sky as far as the eye could see.
Old stories told of breaks between this world and the next, where you could fall through, lost forever as a mortal in the second world.
Behind them, the fiend dogs had stopped, too, as if they also sensed what lay ahead and dared not approach. Tyrus was creeping toward the edge, and she wanted to snatch him back, but feared if she startled him, he’d lose his balance and topple over. He continued on, feeling his way, and she followed, doing the same, until he stood at the very edge, his arm out to block her again, and she looked down and saw . . .
Water. Endless black water. They’d run the wrong way and come out at the sea.
“We can . . .” Tyrus began, then trailed off, as if he wasn’t certain how to finish the thought.
“Could we climb down?” she said.
He leaned, and she struggled against the urge to pull him back.
“The cliff bank recedes from the edge,” he said. “We’ll have to walk along it.”
She glanced at the fiend dogs. They’d taken form now, that swirling, shadow-like canine form, and they’d started to pace, seeing their prey so close and trapped.
She nodded. “Quickly. While they’re still—”
One charged.
“Back!” she shouted, and it stumbled, then regained its balance, shaking itself, its head low as it growled.
A second started forward, cautious, but emboldened by its pack mate. When nothing happened to hold it, the beast kept coming. Then another stepped toward them.
“Can you swim?” Tyrus said.
“What?”
“We have to jump. There’s no other way.” He sheathed his sword. “Can you swim?”
She took a deep breath, pushed her dagger into her belt, grabbed his hand, said, “No,” and jumped.