When he did, they realized it was not "near" at all, and there was no way they could carry him so far.
"What other settlements are close by? Any that might have a healer?"
"There is a . . ." He glanced between the two warriors. "My family is well aware of imperial law and would do nothing to break it."
Gavril tapped his leg with impatience, but Tyrus spoke, his voice low and soothing. "I know that the steppes are home to many unusual communities. Religious groups, bandits, smugglers . . . The emperor understands that reporting suspicions of criminal activity can be a dangerous undertaking and so he does not expect it."
"It is . . . none of those. I mean to say that we do not know exactly what it is, of course, but there are rumors, and my parents had every intention of reporting the matter as soon as we saw an imperial warrior, which is a rare occurrence in these parts . . ."
He blathered for a few moments longer. Gavril and Moria shared eye rolls, but Tyrus heard him out and then said, "Slavers."
The young man stiffened. Moria and Gavril did, too. Bandits and smugglers were one thing. But slavers? It was indeed the duty of every citizen to report those engaged in human trafficking.
The young man babbled more about how he and his parents had no proof, and how they'd been awaiting proof--along with a convenient, passing imperial representative.
"How recent is this camp?" Tyrus asked.
"Very recent," the young man said. "Less than a moon. I truly know very little of it, but I did hear word from someone who traded with them that they had healers. Several of them."
Sorcerers more likely, as it certainly sounded like the shadow stalker camp. Tyrus asked the young man for directions and got them. Then Gavril returned to the fire to reheat his blade.
"We cannot take you to a slaver encampment," Tyrus said. "It would be unsafe. Rather, we will bring aid to you. From there or elsewhere. We will ensure you're safely hidden with food and water and, if you are correct about the distance, we'll be back by sunrise."
The young man nodded. His gaze was fixed on Gavril, who was returning with the red-hot blade, and he seemed to pay little mind to Tyrus's words. As Gavril approached, the young man dug his fingers into the dirt, pulling himself backward.
"Is this necess--?"
"It is," Gavril said, and put the blade against the young man's stomach wounds as Moria and Tyrus each grabbed an arm to hold him still. The young man screamed. Moria was ready with a scrap of cloth to shove in his mouth. Then his screams took on a note that had her hackles rising and Daigo charging back from his prowling, letting out a yowl himself, and as he did, Moria felt a familiar dread, one she now recognized. She shouted, "Begone!"
Tyrus looked over in shock, but Gavril was already reacting, his blade at the young man's throat. Too late he seemed to realize it was his heated dagger rather than his sword. The red-hot steel hit the young man's throat, and he
let out the most horrible, inhuman scream. A familiar scream, though--or it was to Moria and Gavril.
Tyrus had recovered, and even if he had no idea what was going on, he leaped up, bringing his foot to the young man's chest, pinning him and pulling his blade. But before he could get it clear, the young man grabbed Tyrus's boot and, with a heave of superhuman strength, sent him flying backward. That's when the young man's face began to change, to contort into the twisted visage of a shadow stalker.
"Begone!" Moria shouted.
Gavril swung at the creature with his sword. The thing reached out to stop the blade and it cut right through its clawed hand. Blood spurted, yet the shadow stalker seemed not even to notice. It was lunging for Tyrus, who was on his feet. Tyrus's blade cleaved halfway through the creature's torso, but the thing only pulled itself free.
It leaped at Tyrus, as if unharmed, and Moria saw Tyrus's blade in flight and saw Gavril's, too, and Daigo leaping, and she knew it would do no good, that they could hack and claw and rip and the thing would keep coming. She repeated her command, pouring all her rage and fear into it, and finally the black smoke surged from the young man's body, and she started to heave a sigh of relief. Then the smoke shot toward Tyrus.
"No!" she screamed. "Begone!" She rushed at it, and she shouted for it to begone, and the smoke turned on her and everything seemed to stop. Dimly, she could hear Daigo's snarling yowl and Tyrus's shout of "Moria!" and Gavril's "No!" But their voices seemed to come from so far, as she stood, transfixed by the black smoke. By what she saw in the smoke. Faces. Human faces, contorted in agony and blind animal terror. Then she heard voices, coming clearer than Tyrus's or Gavril's. Whispers and whimpers and cries.
Keeper.
Help us.
Goddess, please.
Keeper, please.
Stop it.
Please stop it.
Keeper, please.
"I set you free," she said. "By the ancestors and the goddess, I set you free of this curse and I bid you peace and safe passage."