Ashyn had words to say as well, words he'd taught her, something about entreating the goddess and asking her blessing and so on.
Instead Ashyn whispered prayers to the goddess, prayers for protection and for guidance. And if she reminded the goddess of all she had done and all she had been through and how her faith had never wavered, well, she meant no disrespect, but right now, she needed all the help she could get.
When Edwyn laid his hand on her shoulder, she began the words he'd taught her.
"Are your eyes closed, child?" he asked.
She nodded as she continued speaking.
He squeezed her shoulder. "You are trembling. With excitement I hope."
She nodded and continued speaking, but kept her eyes the slightest bit open. In her mind, she continued her entreaties to the goddess. Protect her loyal servant. Show her the way. Show her truth from lie. But above all, protect her. Please please please--
Look, Ashyn of Edgewood. Quickly.
She heard the words whispered at her ear. A spirit's whisper. Ashyn glanced down and saw a dagger sliding around to her throat. She swallowed.
Wait, Seeker. Wait.
The dagger paused. And then . . .
Now!
She fell backward, away from the blade as it slashed toward her throat. She grabbed for it, and it felt as if her arm was pulled, guided like a puppet's, somehow managing to avoid the slashing blade and grip the hand that held it. Then she squeezed with everything she had as she heard the others cry out, heard a voice shout, "Maintain your positions!"
It was the voice of the person wielding the dagger, and even though she knew who it had to be, she'd somehow, in that moment, convinced herself she was wrong, that someone else had stepped up behind her with the dagger.
But the voice was Edwyn's. The hand she clutched was Edwyn's. The hand wielding the dagger that had nearly slit her throat was Edwyn's.
She wrenched his hand, and perhaps it was the goddess's strength that filled her or perhaps it was the simple rage of deep betrayal. She wrenched it and bone snapped and Edwyn gasped and she grabbed his dagger and spun, backing against the sleeping dragon to stare at her grandfather.
My grandfather? What proof did I have of that? None but his word and stories that could come from anyone because I know nothing of my mother's family.
She looked down at the dagger. "Blood. That's what you needed. Not my power. My blood."
"Your blood is power, child. Think of what you do for the empire. You will save it, child. Your life will save it."
He put his hand out, as if he honestly expected her to dutifully hand over the dagger and offer her throat.
"I think the empire can save itself," she said.
Edwyn lunged, and she stabbed him. Again, she could say the goddess guided her hand, but no. Ashyn stabbed him. Of her own volition. She felt the blade sink in, and he let out a gasp of shock and pain and then--
A cry. But not from Edwyn. Then a shout and a clatter of swords, and Ashyn looked over to see Dalain grabbing a sword from a warrior who lay on the cave floor with a dagger between his shoulder blades. Her dagger. She'd hidden it in the pile of treasure behind Dalain, as he'd looked back to watch her. She'd prayed to the goddess that he'd seen what she did and would be able to free himself without anyone noticing. That if she failed, he'd be able to get free before he became the dragon's first waking meal.
Dalain had the fallen warrior's blade and was striking a second warrior, who'd not yet recovered enough to counter the blow. The blade went in. The warrior went down. A third one attacked, and as their swords clashed, Ashyn saw Edwyn dive for her again. She darted away from the dragons, getting to open ground. That's when she saw the tall, cowled man pulling a blade from under his cloak as he moved behind Dalain, who was immersed in his fight.
"Behind you!" Ashyn shouted.
Dalain turned, and as he saw the other threat, his original target took advantage, swinging hard. Dalain barely avoided the blow, dodging so fast he stumbled. Both men started for him and--
"Stop!" The voice rang through the cavern. A familiar voice. Wonderfully familiar.
"The next man who moves catches my dagger in his heart," Moria's voice called from the shadows.
"Or my stone in his head," Sabre said.
One of the warriors moved. Daigo's black shape leaped from the darkness and took the man down as Tyrus lunged.
They came out into the light then, having come through the cave passage while Dalain had been fighting. A fourth figure was still entering, and when Ashyn strained, she could hear the distant sounds of battle coming from outside.
"Step away from him," Tyrus said to the cowled man, who still stood behind Dalain. Then, to Edwyn: "And you step farther away from her. Ashyn, are you hurt?"
"No."
"Neither am I," Dalain said.
"No one asked you," Sabre said.
The fourth figure hurried through the doorway and jogged for Ashyn, and when she saw who it was, she swore her heart stopped.
"Ronan?"
"Get away from her," Ronan said to Edwyn.
"I am far enough--"
"No, you are not, and if you give me any excuse, I swear I will kill you, old man."
As Ronan approached Edwyn, Moria hurried over to Ashyn. Ashyn went to embrace her twin, but Moria gripped her arms, holding them up instead so she could inspect her for hidden knife wounds.
"I'm fine, Rya," Ashyn said. "Truly I am."
"You were about to get your throat slit to wake dragons. That is not fine."
Ashyn smiled. "Only if they'd succeeded." She pulled her sister into a hug and felt Moria melt against her, trembling slightly, the only sign of how terrified she must have been.
Ashyn kissed her cheek and whispered, "I wouldn't abandon my little sister."
"A heart-warming sentiment," said the man in the cowl. "And I agree. You ought to leave this world as you came into it: together."
Moria paled as she turned to the man.
"No," she whispered.
Ashyn frowned. Yes, it was a threat, but an idle one, given that they'd vanquished Edwyn's warriors. Yet the look on Moria's face . . . Then on Tyrus's, a slow widening of his eyes, dawning recognition. And then, from across the cave, a fifth figure, running through the doorway, breathing hard as if he'd been finishing a fight outside. Ashyn saw the newcomer's familiar face and dark braids.
"Gavril?"
It was, and the look on his face as he stared at the cowled man was the worst of all. He lunged for them, shouting, "Moria!" and the cave went dark.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Moria heard Gavril shout her name, and then the cavern went dark, every torch extinguishing at once. She yanked out her daggers and pushed her sister against the wall, guarding her as Ashyn whispered, "Moria?"
"Sorcery," Moria said. That was all she said. All she dared say. She would not speak his name, as if to do so would--were she wrong--somehow bring him, manifested like a spirit. Yet she had no doubt who the cowled man was. That voice was branded on her brain.
Alvar Kitsune.
She had asked Gavril what his father had planned next. Gavril had said he didn't know, but feared it was sorcery. Now they had their answer. More than sorcery. Alvar had planned to murder Ashyn to raise dragons.
Ronan knew the plan to raise dragons meant sacrificing Ashyn, which is why they'd raced here as quickly as they could. The fact that his captors had stopped at Alvar's camp suggested Gavril's father was involved in the scheme, but it was only now, seeing him here, that they knew those fears had been well-founded.
When darkness fell, chaos exploded. Shouts erupted from Tyrus and Dalain. Daigo growled. Metal clanked. Moria stayed poised, not daring to take a step, lest she leave Ashyn exposed. She had to trust the young warriors.
Trust them to do what? Fight in the dark? Somehow not butcher one another?
"Gavril!" she shouted, but even as she did, she saw light, Gavril raising his glowing left hand. He brandished his sword in his
right, but the long blade could not be wielded single-handedly. He pulled out his short sword instead and swung it awkwardly when a dagger-armed woman lunged at him.
Daigo and Dalain advanced on the still-cowled warrior. Ronan had Edwyn against the wall, his sword at the old man's throat. Sabre guarded a second woman, her slingshot in hand, ready to send a stone flying where needed.
From beyond the cave, Moria heard more sounds of fighting. They'd had to battle their way through, the Okami warriors at their side. They'd left them out there, fighting Edwyn's men, who were apparently Alvar's men. When she glanced toward the entranceway, drawn by the sounds of that distant fighting, a figure appeared. Another warrior--and not dressed in the Okami colors. A second followed him.
"Gavril!" Moria shouted.
He was still trying to use the short sword, but when she shouted, he pulled his long sword instead, gripping it in both hands . . . and his light went out. Blades clanged. Someone gasped. An oomph. A thud. Then Tyrus's voice: "Gavril!"
"Busy!"
Another thud. This one followed by the wet sound of a blade slicing through flesh. A howl of pain and Moria froze. Then Tyrus again: "Gavril!"
A grunt. A clang. "What?"
Tyrus didn't answer for a moment. When he did, it sounded like he'd moved closer to Gavril. "Light! Now!"
Another oomph. Another thud. Then light, and Moria could see Tyrus fighting the two newcomers. Gavril stood at his shoulder, his blade in one hand, light in the other, his gaze fixed on the fighters, his body tense.
"I need the light more than I need help," Tyrus grunted between blows.
The warrior Tyrus had been fighting earlier lay dead a few paces away. Ashyn darted from behind Moria. Moria let out a grunt and grabbed for her sister, but Ashyn snatched the warrior's blade, ran back to Moria, and said, "Trade?" then took one of Moria's daggers and handed her the sword.
"I know you're better with the daggers, but you can use that," Ashyn said. "And I don't need to be shielded in a corner, Rya."
Moria murmured an apology, and they surveyed the battlefield together, hunting for the best target. Seeing how they could help without getting in the way, given the poor lighting.
Ronan still had Edwyn pinned. Dalain and Daigo had backed the cowled man into a corner. Their opponent had sheathed his weapon, his hands raised in surrender.
Surrender? Does that mean it is not Alvar?
No, that voice . . . She'd known it and so had Tyrus and Gavril, but both boys seemed to have forgotten him in the heat of the battle. Or perhaps they'd realized they were mistaken, and--
She yanked her gaze away as another warrior barreled through the entrance. With Ashyn at her side, she began rushing toward him. Then Gavril's light went out. The last image Moria saw was Gavril looking up at his hand in surprise, meaning he had not extinguished--
Hands grabbed her. It happened so fast that she didn't have time to respond. Hands wrenched her away from Ashyn. Ashyn screamed. Moria slashed with her dagger but blindly, feeling it slice through air and then--
Her feet slid out, her face crushed against something bitter cold. Then light returned and she was staring at dragon scales, someone pinning her against the beast.
Moria fought wildly. She heard Ashyn call out, trying to find her, then Tyrus's roar of rage, Gavril's shout of "No!" and then there was a flash of light, blindingly bright, and the hold on her neck eased just enough for her to twist as the dagger plunged toward her.
THIRTY-EIGHT
The blade sliced into her side. She slammed down her own dagger, hitting a bare arm, seeing blood arc, seeing dark skin and the nine-tailed fox splitting as her blade cut through it. She looked up to see Alvar Kitsune's face. She stabbed again and so did he. His blade into her side, hers into his shoulder. Ashyn leaped at Alvar, dagger raised, but Alvar snarled something, some sorcery, and she flew back into the wall.
Ronan twisted toward Ashyn, letting out a curse, and Edwyn tried to fling himself free, but Ronan spun on him, blade flashing, blood spraying. Tyrus grabbed Alvar hard enough to throw him off balance. He went to catch Moria before she toppled, but Gavril pulled her away, and Tyrus wheeled on him, shock in his eyes, his face then contorting into a snarl, his blade rising.
"I can help her," Gavril said. "Heal her. I can't . . ."
He glanced toward his father, and they knew what he meant. I cannot fight him. Gavril's gaze dropped, as if in shame, but Tyrus was already bearing down on Alvar as the older man got to his feet. Edwyn lay on the floor, dead, Ronan's blade bloodied. Ronan was helping Ashyn up, but she pushed him off, then grabbed a torch from one of the fallen women and ran to Gavril, letting him light it as he held Moria. She glanced at her sister, her face dark with panic.
Moria mouthed a weak, I'm fine, and motioned for Ashyn to stand where she could light the cave for the others.
"Tyrus," Alvar said. "I would barely have recognized you without that ink on your arms. No longer a skinny boy tagging after my son like a lost puppy."
"Unsheathe your sword," Tyrus said. "You are not raising dragons this day."
"I have no intention of raising them."
"Do not lie. You collaborated with this Northern sorcerer to trick Ashyn and raise dragons against my father. Dragons to fight a Tatsu, proving even the goddess favored you. Which she clearly does not, as you see."
"I deny none of that, except the part about the goddess. She does favor me, as you will see. I meant only that I will not raise these dragons. That is what these girls are for."
"Unsheathe your sword!" Tyrus snarled. "Now!"
"And there it is: proof that you are both the boy I remember and the true son of Jiro Tatsu. An honor-bound fool. You could have killed me. Cut off my head while I attacked the young Keeper. Even now, you could try. Swing before I can pull my sword."
"Gavril?" Tyrus said, still advancing.
That was all he said, but it snapped Gavril out of his trance, and he lowered Moria onto the sleeping dragon.
"I have her," Gavril called back. "She'll be fine."
"Oh my," Alvar said. "You take orders from Jiro's bastard now, Gavril? You are even weaker than I feared. And what do you take orders to do? See to the girl, because young Tyrus cannot fully devote himself to this fight if he thinks she is dying. That is not mere piety, is it, Tyrus? You do not simply worry about her because she is a Keeper."
"Unsheathe your sword," Tyrus said.
"She's his lover, Gavril," Alvar said. "Are you too naive to have figured that out? Or is this what it's come to? I offer you an empire, and you choose to serve the emperor's bastard and his whore."
Gavril just kept lowering her to rest against the dragon. When she touched the cold scales and jumped, he murmured, "I have you," and she looked up at him and said, "I know."
Sabre and Dalain held the remaining two women and surviving warrior at bay. Ronan guarded Ashyn. Tyrus had Daigo, prowling back and forth at his heels.
"My father will not fight," Gavril whispered to Moria.
"Like you outside Lord Okami's compound."
Gavril shook his head. "I would not risk hurting Tyrus. My father will not risk being hurt. He has seen Tyrus's skill." He shifted her to rest more comfortably. "Now look at me."
When she didn't, he said, "Keeper? Look at me. I need you to relax so I may examine your wounds, and you cannot relax if you are tensed to leap to his rescue. If I hear any sign of trouble, I am at his side." He paused, then said, "Tyrus's, I mean."
She looked up at him and said again, "I know."
He nodded and peeled back her blood-soaked tunic. The sodden cloth seemed to have been holding the wound closed, and blood gushed. Gavril cursed. Ashyn gasped. Tyrus started to turn, pulled by Ashyn's gasp, and Alvar reached under his cloak--
"Tyrus!" Moria shouted.
The young warrior spun, his blade spinning with him, swinging for Alvar. Ashyn's torch flashed out. The sound of a blade hitting flesh. A hiss of pain. Moria yelled, "Tyrus!" pushing herself up to standing, and t
hen light appeared again from Gavril's fingers as he ran, sword raised.
But Tyrus stood there alone, his bloodied blade held aloft. There was no sign of Alvar. They caught the sound of feet echoing through the passage. Dalain's blade struck the remaining warrior, putting him down fast. Dalain ran for the doorway, through which someone was already leaving. He said, "Sabre!" before following the girl. Tyrus lunged after them, telling Dalain to come back, telling them both not to follow--
"Blast it!" Tyrus said. He swung his sword in frustration, blood flicking from the blade.
"Go," Moria said. Then she stumbled, her knees giving way as blood flowed between her fingers, and she fell back onto the dragon.
Ronan took off, saying, "You stay here. I've got this, and I'll find Tova," as he ran for the exit. Ashyn let out a gasp and a "No!" but he was already disappearing through the doorway.
"Daigo, please," Moria said as Gavril dropped beside her.
The wildcat didn't hesitate. He tore off after Ronan.
"Ashyn," Moria whispered, the pain in her side making her struggle for breath. "Stay. Please."
Ashyn didn't hesitate either. She ran over, discarding her cloak and dropping beside Gavril, and the two worked to staunch the bleeding while Tyrus hovered, blade in hand. Edwyn's two women had left, scrambling out when they got the chance.
Moria lay wedged between the mother dragon and one of the whelps. A dragon throne, she thought, and chuckled, and the sound had all three of the others looking over in alarm. She felt oddly disengaged from her body, as if she was already half spirit, fluttering there by a tether.
"I'll stay tethered," she murmured, and they all froze, eyes wide with encroaching panic.
"Sorry," she mumbled, her words coming thick. "I only mean I'll not go."
Which was not, she reflected, the right thing to say, as panic grew in three pairs of eyes and Ashyn and Gavril worked harder, Gavril whispering magical words, healing words, his voice trembling as much as Ashyn's fingers.
I ought not to speak. I ought to simply focus on staying. That is the important thing. Staying.
She thought the words with a truly unnerving calm, as if she was deciding simply to remain for breakfast. Perhaps the fact that it was a question at all ought to worry her, that floating sensation saying she was, indeed, treading the boundary of the second world.