Empire of Night (Age of Legends 2)

meaningless. Some of Edgewood's warriors wore them and would ask Ashyn and me to bless them before they went into the forest."

Faith was a strange thing, Moria reflected as she walked over to Tyrus. No one would argue that the ancestors did not watch over them and could not influence the living world, but customs changed, and openly calling on spirits for support and guidance these days was often seen as a sign of weakness. Which was foolish, in her opinion. Whether an amulet band worked or not, it couldn't hurt. As their father would say, what often counted was whether one believed such protective rituals worked. Confidence in battle guarded one more than any spirit could.

So she blessed Tyrus's amulet band, asking the spirits to watch over him in battle and make his heart strong and true. Not that he needed help with his heart. She did, however, add a silent plea for his stomach, which might need steadying.

They continued with the armor. At first, seeing the pile of it, Moria had been satisfied. Surely with all that, Tyrus would be safe. Yet as she helped him with his gauntlets, she thought, But he should have thigh armor, too, and as he put on his helmet, she snuck a worried look, thinking he needed a neck ring as well.

He ought to have full armor. It's his first battle. This isn't right. It isn't safe.

It didn't matter. Even full armor only protected against a glancing blow. A sound strike from a well-made sword would slice through it like a blade through butter.

And that thought did not make her feel better at all.

She wished she'd blessed his amulet band more. That her supplications had been longer, more ornate and detailed.

What if I've done it wrong? What if it's not enough. What if--

"Moria?" Tyrus looked over as he fussed with his headgear. He wore a dragon helmet, like those worn by all Emperor Tatsu's men, but his was dark red, the color of his tattoos, forbidden to all but the imperial family.

A true imperial helmet for a true Tatsu--a true dragon warrior. That was what Tyrus was, and he did not need armor or blessings to keep him safe. His skill would do that. And so would she, fighting at his side.

"Let me help with that," she said.

The plan was in place. The warriors were prepared for battle. And . . .

And nothing. As the moon approached its zenith, the bandits headed into their tents. Tyrus had yet to hear word from the warrior who'd ridden off to speak to the warlord. So they were waiting.

Ashyn had gone with Ronan and the others to search for the camps holding the children and shadow stalkers. The remaining warriors had spread out, surrounding the bandit camp. Moria was alone with Daigo and Tyrus, lying on her stomach on the same hillock where they'd watched the camp earlier. The wind sighed through the long grass, and she pushed a stalk aside impatiently as it tickled her cheek.

"I can see the warlord's compound," Moria hissed, scowling at the distant hill, now faintly lit. "Why does he not come?"

"It's farther than it looks," Tyrus said. "The night is dark, and the light carries."

"I don't mean to grumble. You have quite enough to worry about."

He smiled over at her. "But I'm not allowed to grumble. You can do it for me, and we'll both feel better."

She shivered.

He shifted closer. "Cold?"

"No, just . . ."

"Anxious?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps. If the warlord doesn't send his men . . ."

"Then we'll find a place to camp and wait until morning. We may have the strength to fight, but not to fight well enough. Not without sleep."

With so little rest, they should hold off until morning anyway, but the longer they waited, the more chance they'd be spotted. Or that Alvar's reinforcements would arrive.

Blast Jorojumo. Why was he not moving more quickly?

Tyrus eased closer and stretched his cloak over her. "Even if you aren't chilled . . ."

"Thank you."

"You could rest." A wry smile. "I'll not start the battle without telling you. I'd never hear the end of it if I tried."