"In corporeal form, yes, you can--"
"No, Moria." He met her gaze. "You can fight shadow stalkers. You have fought them. Banished them. You're the Keeper."
It was a testament to her terror that she had to process his words, slowly realizing the truth of them. The obvious truth. If these were like the shadow stalkers, she could banish the spirits.
"There's no guarantee," she said slowly. "It was not easy with the shadow--"
"You can do it. I know you can." He grinned, and when he did, that smile seemed to snatch her fear and pitch it as far as her dagger might fly. It wasn't a grin that said, You'll save me. It said, I believe in you, and whether you can banish them or not, I know you'll try, and if you can't do it, then no one could.
The tree shook as one of the fiend dogs threw itself against the trunk. Then another did the same, and she had to grip the limb with both arms as the spirits battered the tree from below.
"Just hold on," Tyrus said. "I won't let you fall."
Again, this wasn't anything he could promise. He meant that if she dropped, he'd grab her, and if it pulled them both down, then he would fall with her. Die with her. She looked into his eyes and thought, So this is what all the fuss is about. This was what the bards sang about. What Ashyn swooned about. And it wasn't nearly as silly and pointless as she thought.
"I can do this," she said.
That grin blazed again. "Of course you can."
"And the sooner I start, the better, right?"
He chuckled. "I wouldn't say that."
"Even if you'd secretly and heartily agree." She smiled back at him and the last of her fear evaporated.
I'm the Keeper. I don't fear spirits; they fear me.
Moria closed her eyes and focused her energy, as she had with the shadow stalkers.
Begone. You don't belong here. By the power of the ancestors . . .
And on it went. Not the most exciting of rituals. In fact, its only saving grace was that she could say the words in her head. Otherwise, she'd have felt like an idiot, spouting them aloud like the mad prophets who wandered through the Wastes.
She called on the ancestors and all their power, and if, perhaps, there was an occasional deviation from the script, one that reminded the ancestors of all that Moria had been through, and all the times the ancestors seemed to have forsaken her, with the very impious suggestion that, perhaps, she deserved a little extra help now, well--as Ashyn would say, that only proved Moria was feeling more herself.
Below, the fiend dogs continued leaping at the tree, shaking it more each time, as if they'd realized that their combined efforts had more effect.
Were Moria's own efforts doing anything at all? Truly? They were spirits, blast it. She ought to be able--
"There!" Tyrus said.
Her eyes flew open.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but it's working. You banished one. I saw it leaping at the tree, and then it--"
Another bash, this one hard enough to knock his chin against the limb he was lying on, and he must have bit his tongue, cursing as he did.
"You ought not to be looking down," she said.
"I'm glancing down. Now keep at it."
She did, harder now, spurred by her success. She kept her eyes squeezed shut and listened as Tyrus said, "There's another gone. And another."
Daigo had leaped onto the branch over her head, and his tail dangled, flicking against her shoulder as if patting her on the back. Below, though, the fiend dogs grew frenzied, fighting her efforts by throwing themselves ever harder at the tree trunk. When a particularly hard knock pitched her forward, she grabbed the limb, her eyes flicking open as she sta
red down to see a huge black shape leaping at her.
She saw the beast. Saw its fangs and its form, coming straight at her, high in the tree. Tyrus let out a gasp and went for his sword.