The smoke hovered there. It made no move to come closer, just writhed and twisted, the faces writhing and twisting within it. She kept saying the words, feeling them, opening herself up to the spirits' pain, and sincerely and fervently wishing the spirits peace and safe passage. The black smoke gathered on itself, as if the magics were resisting her, but she kept repeating the words of peace and freedom and, finally, of forgiveness. For whatever these spirits had done. She poured all of her power and all of her strength into that, granting them forgiveness and beseeching the goddess to do the same.
That's when the smoke exploded. Burst apart into a thousand particles of black dust that scattered in every direction.
A voice whispered past her ear, Thank you, Keeper. And then they were gone . . . and Moria collapsed to the ground.
THIRTY-ONE
Moria woke to Tyrus desperately trying to rouse her, his voice sharp with panic, his face above hers, Daigo pushed in right beside it.
"Tired," she said. "So . . ." She couldn't even get the rest out. Exhaustion threatened to pull her back under, and her eyelids flagged. "Sleep."
"Does anything hurt? Do you feel anything?"
"Just tired."
"She doesn't show any outward signs of trauma." Gavril's voice came from somewhere behind Tyrus. "Her heartbeat is strong and her breathing seems--"
"How do you feel, Moria?" Tyrus said, cutting Gavril short with an uncharacteristically sharp look his way.
"Just tired. Give me a moment. I'll be . . ."
She drifted off before she could finish. When she woke again, she was curled up with Daigo, Tyrus right there, anxiously crouched beside them. She barely had time to open her eyes before he was pushing a waterskin to her lips.
"How do you feel now?"
"Better."
"Drink. There's dried fish here. Whatever happened, it drained your energy. You need to get it back."
"Yes, your highness." She favored him with a smile and pushed to sit up, then drank and ate as he hovered and Daigo paced. The other member of their party was nowhere to be seen.
"Is Gavril . . . ?" She looked around.
Tyrus waved impatiently. "Somewhere. He did his healing magics and then wandered off. He's not much of a nursemaid."
"Eager for me to snap out of it so we can get back on the trail."
"No, just . . ." Another wave, and he said, "Gavril," as if that explained all. Which it did. "Can you tell me what happened?"
She did, finishing with, "The stories of shadow stalkers aren't like those of fiend dogs or other twisted spirits. They don't say what those spirits are--the vengeful dead, the angry dead, the lost dead, the traitorous dead. They are simply described as spirits, turned into shadow stalkers by sorcerer magics. I think that's because it's exactly what they are. Not twisted spirits. Simply spirits."
"Many spirits," Tyrus said. "Bound together with terrible magics."
She nodded. "They may think they've done something to deserve their fate, but I don't believe they have. Not truly. It's like when something terrible befalls an innocent person and they search for some way they have offended the ancestors or the goddess."
"When they haven't. No more than anyone does, in everyday life." He looked over her head. "Is she right? Her theory?"
"I have no idea," Gavril said, and Moria turned to see him approaching. "As I've told Moria, my father doesn't discuss the sorcery for shadow stalkers with me. The point is simply that we may finally have a way to expel them--permanently. Which will be useful if we ever get to that camp."
She looked at Tyrus. "I told you he was getting impatient."
"No," Gavril said. "I'm merely suggesting that if you are feeling up to it . . ."
"Yes, yes," she said. "You wish to get moving. And so we will."
They found the three horses that the dead family had ridden, and Tyrus declared that if the horses balked, then the goddess did not favor their endeavor. When the horses came easily, he took it as a divine sign. Or at least a reasonable excuse.
The horses were excellent steeds, and Moria decided that when she got one of her own, she would like a steppes horse. They were neither as large nor as sleek as imperial horses, but the shaggy beasts were sturdy and sure-footed. They had a mind of their own, and Gavril grumbled when his mount exercised it, but Moria rather admired this trait in a beast. Yes, she would have a steppes horse for riding and exploring the world. Once she had time to ride and explore the world. If she lived long enough to ride and explore the world.