The Sworn by Gail Z. Martin Read Free Book Online

ground and silencing his spells with a snap and a snarl that nearly tore the man’s head from his neck. Laisren moved faster than sight could follow to pursue the third man, who had turned to flee. Laisren caught him by the shoulder, wheeling him so that he could see the terrified man’s face.
    “You desecrate this place,” Laisren growled, closing one pale hand around the man’s neck. “You foul it with the blood of innocents to wake a power you don’t comprehend. You can’t possibly atone for what you’ve done.”
    The man struggled and gasped for breath, then spat in Laisren’s face. “I have no need to atone,” he gasped, jerking in Laisren’s grasp before his spine snapped and he fell to the floor.
    “Sweet Chenne,” Jonmarc whispered as he and the others looked around the chamber. The body of a
vyrkin
hung chained by its hind feet above a basin filled with blood. Two other wolf corpses lay where they had been thrown into a gutter carved into the rock along one wall. Both had been skinned. Around the room, cages lined the rock walls. The bars shimmered with magic.
    Jonmarc moved toward the cages, careful not to touch the glowing bars. He heard Laisren swearing under his breath beside him. In each of the cages lay
vayash moru
, injured too severely to rise, although it was night. Several had been eviscerated; others bore the deep gashes of axes or lay carefully because of multiple crossbow quarrelsthrough their bodies, wounds that would have easily killed a mortal. One lay completely still, with the hilt of a
damashqi
knife protruding from his heart, his panicked eyes the only clue that he remained aware.
Vyrkin
lay in other cages, some in human form, others still shifted, all showing the gashes of an ax or multiple wounds where they had been run through by swords.
    “How could they have captured so many
vayash moru
?” Jonmarc asked, stunned.
    Sakwi began to move from cage to cage, muttering words that sounded like water flowing over rock. As his hands traced the outline of the cage, the bars lost their glow and the cage doors swung open.
    “Most of these are young in the Dark Gift,” Laisren replied, moving with Jonmarc to gather up the bodies of the maimed prisoners. “They’re vulnerable in their day crypts. The fanatics know to injure them without striking the heart or cutting off the head. It takes the young ones so long to heal that they’re helpless from the pain.”
    “What about him?” Jonmarc said with a jerk of his head toward the body impaled by the knife as he hefted one of the prisoners into his arms.
    “He was old enough to be more cautious,” Laisren said, walking toward the
vayash moru
. With one swift motion, he removed the knife from the man’s heart. The man’s body convulsed and he gave a deep groan.
    “Get on your feet,” Laisren said, helping the injured
vayash moru
up. “We’ve got to go.”
    Jonmarc glanced around the chamber. A small corridor branched off, sloping down into darkness. “What do you suppose is down there?”
    “If it’s what’s been feeding on the blood, you don’twant to know,” Laisren said as they headed for the stairs, carrying the bodies of those too badly injured to walk.
    This time, Sakwi and the
vayash moru
led the group, armed and ready for a fight. Two mortals remained behind.
    “Burn what’s left.” Jonmarc did not turn as he climbed up the stairs. When they had reached the top, running footsteps sounded behind them, followed by the roar of fire. They hurried toward the shelter of the forest, and Sakwi raised the fog around them once more. Dark shapes darted through the fog, huge gray wolves called by the land mage to protect their
vyrkin
brothers.
    “I hope you’ve told them we’re off the menu,” Jonmarc said with a warning glance toward Sakwi.
    The land mage gave a grim smile. “Of course.”
    Just before they reached the tree line, the
vayash moru
took to flight, carrying bodies of their fallen comrades. Inside the