Empire of Night (Age of Legends 2)

"Was it something the warlord said when you conferred with him? I know he cannot have an issue with women wielding blades. One of his warriors is a woman. I saw her."

"He has no issue with you on a battlefield. I do." He stopped her protest with a raised hand. "I did not tell you sooner because if I had, I'd never have heard the end of it. You've no time to argue now."

She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't force words past the boiling rage. Beside her, Daigo snarled, his tail lashing.

"Watch over her," Tyrus said to the wildcat.

"And who'll watch over you?" she said. "That is what I planned to do, Tyrus. Not pretend I am a warrior. Not get in anyone's way. I am no trained fighter. But I can fight--for you. That's all I wanted."

"And that is exactly what you'll do. From here. With your throwing daggers and your wildcat."

"Then why am I wearing . . ." She plucked angrily at her armor.

"Because I want you to be safe."

He pulled her closer, leaning in to kiss her forehead, but she squirmed away. He sighed and released her.

"If you think I'm doing it because you're a girl, and you hate me for it, then that is your prerogative. But it has nothing to do with your sex, and I'd hope by now you'd realize that has no import with me. You have no experience on a battlefield. And yes, neither have I, but I have trained for it my whole life. Also you are a Keeper. If I was to allow you out there, fodder for a bandit's blade . . . ?" He shook his head. "I'd not be fit to lead battle hounds. I'd like you to keep an eye out for your sister, in case she returns early with Ronan. If you can also watch over me, I would appreciate that." A wry smile. "I fear I'll need the help."

He leaned in again, as if to kiss her cheek, but again she would not let him. With another soft sigh, he squeezed her shoulder and went to join the others.

As she watched him go, her stomach twisted. Daigo's tail whipped against her.

He's right. You know that. If you expected anything else, you do not know him very well. Call him back. Give him a kiss. Wish him luck. Tell him you'll watch over him.

"Tyrus?" she whispered as loud as she dared.

He didn't hear her. She took a few running steps. "Tyrus?"

Jorojumo strode over to greet him, and Moria knew she'd lost her chance. She hovered there, waiting for Tyrus to turn, to look her way, so she could mouth an apology, smile, and tell him all was fine. He spoke to the warlord. Then they took their men and walked their separate ways, and Tyrus never looked back.

TWENTY-ONE

When Tyrus claimed she had no experience, it had taken all Moria's self-restraint not to snarl back. Had he fought shadow stalkers? Thunder hawks? She'd even battled a slaver's mercenaries. How dare he say she'd no experience.

But as the battle unfolded, she realized he was right. She had envisioned herself fighting alongside Tyrus as she had with Gavril. That showed how little she knew of a true battlefield. Even watching Tyrus's back from a distance was a challenge. If she'd been immersed in that chaos . . .

And it was chaos. There was no other word for it. Perhaps that shocked her most of all. When bards told tales of clashing armies, she envisioned rows of warriors, fighting as if they were in a festival demonstration, paired off and maintaining position.

This was madness. Bloody, thunderous, stinking madness. The clang of swords and the grunts and screams of hits. Blood arcing through the air. Blood spattering over the tents and the grass. Clouds of dust and dirt obscuring the fighters. The warriors themselves were blurs of armor and steel, fighting this bandit only to be hit from behind by that one.

With the warlord's men, they'd expected to outnumber the mercenaries. Not by enough to make it a quick and bloodless routing, but enough to make it an easy battle. Except another twenty bandits had arrived almost immediately. They fought with blades and whips and cudgels, ignoring the warrior code.

It was a treacherous, filthy, backstabbing brawl. And Tyrus was caught in the middle of it.

He may have never fought on a battlefield either, but Moria would wager anyone seeing him would not believe it. She had worried about how he would do, after his response to the deaths in Fairview proved that battle training did not equate with battle readiness.

He was magnificent. More skilled with a blade than any warrior on the field. The first mercenary who rushed him was nearly cleaved in two before he could even swing, and that early victory seemed to add fuel to Tyrus's flame. He cut down one opponent after another. As he did, though, he was drawn deeper into battle. Farther out of range of her daggers.

"We need to get closer," she whispered to Daigo as two fighters blocked Tyrus from view.

Daigo grunted but did not move.

"I know he's handling himself well, but he told me to watch over him. I can't do that from here."

She could feel Daigo's gaze on her, and in that moment, she had no doubt there was a warrior's spirit inside him, and that it was considering, assessing. She might have a duty to watch over Tyrus, but Daigo's was to watch over her.

"I won't join the battle," she said. "I'm not ready. I see that now. I just want to be ready for him--in case he needs me."