Empire of Night

by Kelley Armstrong

  He took the lead again, his eyes better in the darkness. He ran, short blade in hand now, slicing through vines and branches. Ashyn had her dagger out, too, ready for attack, but it wasn't long before the sounds of pursuit faded.

  "They'll get hounds," Ronan said. "The Okamis are renowned hunters. They'll give us time to escape, and then send the hounds after us."

  "Then it won't help to hide, will it?"

  "It will if we do it right." He kept going, pausing between words now as his breath grew short. "We need to find a stream or a river. The dogs can't track us--"

  Ashyn heard a whistle of air. Tova let out a snarl, racing forward as Ronan halted in his tracks and stumbled. Another whistle. Ashyn saw the arrow this time as it struck him hard in the shoulder, knocking him down. That's when she noticed the first--lodged in his throat. He gasped and wheezed, eyes bulging as he yanked at it.

  "No!" she said, racing forward. "Do not pull--"

  Something hit her from behind. She went down, her dagger falling uselessly from her hand. She fought whatever had her. She heard Tova yelp, as if injured. A hand clamped a noxious-smelling cloth over her mouth and nose, and her legs slid out from under her as everything went dark.

  Ashyn had been drugged once before. It was not enough to qualify her as an expert, but this time, when she woke, the period of "where am I?" confusion did not last nearly as long. Her eyes cracked open, and she felt a familiar tightness in her throat and looseness in her brain. It all rushed back. She bolted upright in the darkness.

  "Tova!"

  He licked her face, and she threw her arms around him, then went still.

  "Ronan," she whispered. "He was . . ."

  Shot. In the throat. With an arrow.

  She scrambled to her feet. The room, she realized, was not pitch-black. Thin light filtered in through a hole in the ceiling. Her eyes were still adjusting, though, and all she could see were that hole and Tova's pale fur.

  "Ronan," she whispered to the hound. "Where's Ronan?"

  Tova made a noise in his throat. A whimpering whine that said he didn't know and was wondering, too. Ashyn stumbled about, as if she might find Ronan, though she knew he wasn't there--Tova would smell him if he was.

  An arrow in the throat.

  He'd been pulling it out. She'd tried to tell him not to. If it had hit a vein that was the worst thing he could do. Had he pulled it out? Was he . . . ?

  She swallowed hard and lowered herself to the floor. Her hands came down on rock. For a few moments, she just sat there, knees drawn up, thinking of Ronan, running over what had happened, hoping to recall some proof that he'd survived, trying to visualize him falling and see exactly where the arrow had gone in. It did no good. She couldn't remember.

  She blinked against the numbing sedative. Fretting and worrying weren't going to fix anything or answer any questions.

  She pressed her fingertips against the rock and ran them over the surface, feeling bumps and crevices and tiny sharp pebbles.

  Why was there a rock floor in a room?

  She blinked again, harder now, and then looked up at the strangely shaped hole. She rose. It was indeed a hole . . . in rock. A rough, natural hole that wound its way up to sunlight. She looked at the wall.

  It was all rock.

  I'm not in a room. I'm in a cave.

  Then there had to be an exit. It was still nearly impossible to see more than that distant light and Tova, but as she squinted and turned, she made out another pale shape at least ten paces away. As she started toward it, the light seemed to catch something on the wall, making it gleam, and she jumped, startled.

  A picture had been drawn on the wall. When she stood close, she saw lines. Once she backed up for the full view, though, the lines vanished into the shadows.

  What had caught the light looked like the lacquered wood tiles used for armor, but it was twice the size of her hand. When she stood on her tiptoes, she realized it wasn't brown wood. It was . . . every color. Iridescent, like a fish scale. She touched it and that was exactly what it felt like. The biggest fish scale she'd ever seen.

  Tova whined, telling her this was no time to solve a mystery. That pale shape across the cave might be the exit. While she suspected she'd find it guarded, at least she could find out who held her here. The Okami clan, presumably. She only hoped they'd tell her what had happened to Ronan.

  As she walked toward the pale object, it did indeed seem like a door. An oddly shaped one, with light coming in around the edges. The closer she drew, the less like a door it appeared, but her mind was still fixed on that image, and she couldn't figure out what exactly she was seeing. It sat on the cave floor and reached to her head. Something white, with a dark hole in the middle. A dark, jagged hole with . . . teeth. She was looking at teeth, each as big as her forearm.

  It's . . .

  She stopped short.

  It was a massive skull, twice as big as Tova's entire body.

  What creature grew that large?

  Moria had said the thunder hawk had huge, jagged teeth and horns, and Ashyn could see horns, long and curving. But this skull had a snout, not a beak.

  Tova crept toward the skull, cautiously, as if the skull was still affixed to a living beast. He sniffed it. Then he crouched, whining.

  "What is it?" she whispered.

  He looked back at her and stayed where he was, hunkering down in front of the skull. She took the last few steps toward it.

  What is it?

  "I don't know," she whispered.

  Yes, you do.

  She swallowed and reached out to touch the skull. It felt ice-cold, but instead of pulling her hand back, she pressed it against the bone, and the chill of it made her shiver, her eyes squeezing shut. As soon as they closed, she smelled ice, sharp and cold, and she heard the flap of massive wings and a deafening roar.

  "A dragon," she whispered. "It's--"

  "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 co
uld 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.