Empires of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 2) (17 page)

She looked northward. Her clan
spread across the first mile of the plains. Beyond them, shadows
rolled across the night, leading to a great fire. Pahmey blazed there
like a collapsing star fallen onto the earth. They would be mustering
there—the creatures from the sunlit half of Moth. These demons were
of the Ardish clan, she knew; the same clan as these Timandrians who
had joined them, their sigil a black bird they called "raven."
But other sunlit clans crawled elsewhere in Eloria—the Nayans she
had fought last year, warriors of the tiger, and many others, a great
horde some said was half a million strong.

It was Koyee, the slim youth
with a warrior's eyes, who spoke the thoughts in Suntai's own heart.

"How can we defeat them?"
Koyee gazed toward the distant fire. "The Timandrians are so
many and we are few. How can the night stop the day?"

Suntai rested her palm upon her
sword's hilt. "We in Chanku are few. The defenders of Pahmey
were few. But others live in the night. The Emperor of Qaelin, they
say, commands fifty thousand troops far in the east. And other
empires rule in the night. The Ilari nation is mighty; my parents
fought their bloodthirsty warriors in the Great Southern War. Leen
too is strong; its elders are wise and its soldiers are many, though
they have not left their northern isle in many years." Suntai
looked east, south, and north, as if she could see these distant
lands from here. "We must seek their aid. All three empires of
darkness must join forces: Qaelin, Ilar, and Leen. No more must
Elorians fight one another; now is our time to lay aside our
grievances and fight the sun as one."

She looked at Okado and met his
gaze. His eyes shone with approval and his lips rose in a rare smile.
She saw the love and pride in him, and it warmed her chest. He was
strong in battle; she would prove herself just as strong in this
council.

Koyee spoke again. "The
Ilari are ruthless and cruel. My father fought them too; he spoke of
them as of monsters. And the people of Leen? They say they care only
for gazing at the stars, counting crystals, and chanting ancient
prayers. How will we show them wisdom? How can we unite
Elorians—scattered across distant lands, miles of darkness between
us?"

"We will unite," said
Suntai, "or we will fall. We will unite as the Timandrians do,
different kingdoms and clans fighting as one, or we will perish. We
have no choice." She inhaled through flared nostrils. "We
must travel across the night, spreading the news. We must speak of
the slaughter in Pahmey. We must make the emperor of Qaelin send his
troops west. We must convince Leen and Ilar, our enemies of old, to
fight alongside their siblings in darkness. Three quests lie before
us, three paths to hope. We must take these three roads, or we will
perish in the flame from the west."

Because
I do not crave death in battle,
she thought.
Because
I am not like the riders I lead; they want to die young, to die upon
their blades, to die as men and women of honor and strength. But not
I. Not Suntai, mate of Okado. I would live to see my barren womb
flower. I would die an elder, my grandchildren playing with pups at
my feet.
She
looked toward the northern light then closed her eyes.
We
must live. We must banish this nemesis of fire. By my sword, my wolf,
and the blood of my heart, I will fight for life and darkness.

She
opened her eyes and looked at her companions. Her husband, strong and
noble, his shoulders broad and his blade sharp. His sister, short and
slim and clad only in silk, yet displaying the same strength as her
brother in her eyes. The Timandrians who had joined her pack: a
trembling queen with golden locks, a somber youth with mismatched
eyes, a warrior woman with braided hair, and two friends—one short
and the other wide—with fear in their eyes.

"We are only a few,"
Suntai said, "yet we must save the night."

They stared back at her, some of
them frightened, the others strong. It was Okado who spoke first.

"I will lead the pack
east." He gazed down the mountain toward them, thousands of men
and women astride wolves. "The crater is no longer safe for
them, not with Timandrian hosts so near. If this Ferius demon has
slain all in Pahmey, he will seek to slay us next. The Chanku riders
are strong and fierce; one of our warriors can defeat ten of them in
battle. And yet they outnumber our warriors twenty to one. We cannot
stay. I will take the pack east along the Sage's Road for many turns.
We will seek Yintao, our capital; its walls are tall and thick, and
its soldiers are many. We will join our wolves to their warriors;
together we are strong."

Suntai nodded. "The pack
will head east. We were nomads for many years before we found our
crater; we've lingered in its shadows for too long, and it has
weakened us. You will lead the pack to Yintao. Yet who will travel
north and south, seeking aid from other empires of night?"

Koyee
stepped forth. Her eyes shone and she raised her chin. She was a
decade younger than Suntai, and she stood barely taller than Suntai's
shoulder, but her stance was strong, her face fierce.
This
one would have made a fine rider,
Suntai thought.

"I
will travel south," Koyee said. "Torin and I have a
boat—the
Water
Spider
,
which we oared when fleeing Pahmey. We both grew up along rivers; we
both know the water. We will sail south along the Inaro. It will take
us across Qaelin to the southern coast. There we will cross the sea
to the Ilari Empire." She looked back at Okado, and her eyes
softened. "I spent many years dreaming of seeing my brother
again. Yet now our roads must part."

Okado stepped toward her,
lowered his head, and touched her arm. "My sister, we can send
another south. You can travel east with the pack—with me. Ilar is a
land of great danger; its people are warlike and have no love for us
Qaelish folk."

Koyee shook her head. "None
in Chanku have ever been in a boat; your people fear the water unless
you ride upon a swimming wolf, and no wolf can swim such a distance."
She smiled crookedly. "Yet you and I, my brother, we grew up in
boats." Tears filled her eyes and she embraced him. "I love
you, Okado. I love you more than the stars love the sky. I will miss
you until we meet again."

When the embrace ended, Torin
came to stand beside Koyee. He spoke in broken Qaelish, his accent
heavy.

"I look after her, Okado. I
fight with her." The boy—younger, shorter, and slimmer than
Okado—gripped his sword. "I keep Koyee safe."

Okado
stared at the youth, and a smile tugged at his lips. He snorted.
"Koyee is a daughter of the night, a warrior who slew many
demons in Pahmey; hers is a heart of darkness. She does not need your
protection, child of sunlight; she bears Sheytusung, a sword greater
than yours.
She
will keep
you
safe." He patted the boy on the shoulder. "I think, Torin
of Timandra, that she is taking you with her not for protection, but
to prove to Ilar that you sunlit folk are not merely legends."

Young Torin bristled. He puffed
out his chest, his cheeks reddened, and he opened his mouth—perhaps
preparing to object or defend his honor. Suntai cleared her throat,
drawing their attention. She felt it best to speak quickly; she did
not wish to see her mate clash with this youth.

"Torin and Koyee will
travel south," she said, interrupting the potential feud. "We
will fill their boat with what supplies they'll need. In a few moons,
they will join us in Yintao . . . alone or with an Ilari host."

Inwardly, Suntai smiled. She saw
what Okado did not.

Koyee
has already mated with Torin,
she thought. Suntai saw that in their eyes. They were bound, yet
Okado would never accept it. Okado valued strength. He valued only
warriors, while Torin was different—weak of arm but strong in
different ways, the strength of a scholar and stargazer.

Suntai looked north again, then
balled her fists and lowered her head. She knew what she had to do,
though it tore at her. Ice seemed to encase her heart. She spoke
between stiff lips.

"And I will travel north. I
will take with me a Timandrian as well—two if we can spare them. I
will show these beings of sunlight to the elders of the Leen nation.
No rivers lead north; we will travel upon wolves, fast and hidden
upon the plains. We will rouse Leen to battle."

Okado sucked in his breath,
approached Suntai, and gripped her hands. "You will leave your
mate?"

She nodded. "You can lead
the pack without me. This is my task. The elders of Leen are ancient,
pompous folk; they care for bloodlines and old names. I am Suntai, a
daughter of the Chanku nobles of old, those great warriors who ruled
in Pahmey. I am an alpha of a great pack. I am highborn and strong,
and Leen will heed my words." Her voice softened, and she
touched Okado's cheek. "I must do this, my mate, though my heart
will weep while we're apart. I will miss you."

His eyes softened, showing those
rare moments of emotion that Suntai, proud she-wolf of the pack,
loved and cherished. She embraced him and kissed his lips under the
stars.

A throat cleared at her side,
interrupting the kiss.

"And I . . . I go with
you," said the short Timandrian boy—his name was Cam, she
remembered. He spoke in Qaelish too, his accent even heavier than
Torin's. "I go north with you."

Suntai turned to smile down at
the sharp-featured young man. "The road will be long and dark,
my friend. And you will have to ride upon a nightwolf."

The boy—he seemed no older than
seventeen or eighteen—raised his chin. He stood shorter than Suntai
and probably slimmer too, but puffed out his chest with all the
bravado he could.

"I
was . . . how you say in Qaelish?" He turned to his friends,
whispered among them, and found the word. "I was
herder
in Timandra. I always fight small sunlit wolves. Now . . . now I want
ride big wolf." His eyes lit up. "It be fun. And you need
one Timandrian. I go to Leen too."

Suntai smiled; the boy was young
and green, perhaps, but honest enough. She nodded. "I will take
you with me. I—"

The young Timandrian queen began
to speak loudly, interrupting Suntai. She spoke in Ardish, the tongue
of her people, which Suntai could not understand. She wrung her
hands, scolded Cam, then looked at Suntai and spoke again. The young
woman seemed to Suntai like some spirit creature, her skin bronzed,
her hair golden, her eyes bright blue.

"What does she say?"
Suntai asked.

Cam rolled his eyes. "She
says she come too. She also want go north to Leen. She says it sound
like her name, so it best place for her." He sighed. "Her
name is Linee. Place in north is Leen. She think is some . . . how
you say in Qaelish? Sign."

At his side, Queen Linee
grinned, crossed her arms, and nodded. "Leen!" she said
happily. "Linee. Leen."

Cam groaned. "This be long
trip now."

The wind blew from the north,
scented of fire, ash, and burning corpses. Below the mountain, the
pack rustled and lanterns glinted against armor. Suntai stood upon
the mountaintop, this sacred ground of her people, and looked at her
companions. Her throat constricted and her heart felt too tight.

And
so I will part from my mate, from the pack that I love, and I will
travel into darkness for long moons.
She tightened her lips and nodded.
For
the night.

"Okado, leave with the pack
before the moon rises," she said. "You cannot linger here."
She turned toward his sister. "Koyee, take the boat and take
Torin; travel south along the river to distant Ilar, and may the
Leaping Fish—the stars of your home—guide your quest." She
turned toward Cam and Linee; the boy rolled his eyes as the young
queen leaned against him, her elbow on his shoulder. "And you
two—you two come with me, and I will find you wolves. You ride fast
or I truss you up and carry you as cargo."

They all stared back and nodded.
Suntai smiled, though her eyes dampened and she had never felt more
pain in her chest.

"Goodbye, my friends,"
she said. "May whatever gods you worship guide your way. We
fight for darkness. We fight for peace. We are the night and we are
the day." She turned away and began walking down the mountain.
"Now come! Three paths await us. We begin our journeys."

 
 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
LEAVETAKING

Bailey sat in the center of a
storm, sharpening her sword, cursing with every stroke of stone
against blade.

The crater bustled around her.
Nightwolves prowled back and forth, shaggy beasts the size of horses,
their saddles elaborate works of leather and steel, each scale in
their armor engraved with a moonstar. Their riders moved among the
animals, stuffing saddlebags with supplies—dried meats, fur pelts,
water skins, and blades. These riders too seemed beastly to Bailey;
unlike the people of Pahmey, gentle folk who wore silks and glowing
jewels, these Elorians looked more like the bloodthirsty night-demons
Ferius railed about. Helms shaped as snarling wolves encircled their
heads, and tattoos of lightning, claws, and flames adorned their
skin. Weapons hung across their backs—katanas, bows, arrows fletched
with silk, and belts of many daggers. Back among her own people,
Bailey had been a rarity—a female serving among male soldiers—but
here half the warriors were wild women, their eyes as fierce as their
men's.

Bailey thrust her sharpening
stone against her blade, scattering sparks, and grumbled.

Yes,
back among my own people.
She grimaced. Her eyes stung and she cursed and blinked furiously.
She had left her people. She had abandoned her village, her kingdom,
her sunlit half of Moth. She had followed Torin on his quest, and now
. . . who was she now, and could she ever return?