Mercedes Lackey - Oathbound

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Oathbound: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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~This wold be too long if I were to put my descriptions up. I would also give away parts of the book which I don't want to because this book is very good. So I will put the actual descriptions up- The one's on the back cover of the book~
The SwordsWoman- She was Tarma. Born to the Clan of the Hawk of the nomadic Shin'a'in people, she saw her entire clan slain by brigands. Vowing blood revenge upon the murderers, she became one of the Sword-Sworn, the most elite of all warriors. And trained in all forms of death-dealing combat, she took the road in search of her enemies....
And the Sorceress- She was Kethry. Born into a noble house, sold into a hateful "marriage," she fled life's harshness for the sanctuary of the White Winds, and powerful school of sorcery. Becoming an adept, she pledged to use her talents for the greatest good. Yet unlike other sorcerers, Kethry could use worldy weapons as well as magical skills. And when she became the bearer of a uniquely magical sword which drew her to those in need, Kethry was led to a fateful meeting with Tarma.
The OathBound- United by sword-spell and the will of the Goddess, Tarma and Kethry swore blood oath to carry on their mutual fight against evil. And together, swordmaster and sorceress set forth to fulfill their destiny...

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"I fear you have worked to wreak only your own downfall -- as I warned you would happen."

"No -- "

"And you have wrought far too well, I fear -- for if I read this spell correctly, it was meant to be permanent unto death. And as a demon, except that you be slain by a specific blade, you cannot die. Am I not correct?"

The demon's only response was a whimper, as she sank into a heap of loose limbs among the cushions of what once had been her throne, her eyes fogging as she retreated from the reality she herself had unwittingly created.

Tarma let her long legs fold under her and sat where she had stood, trembling from head to toe, saying nothing at all, a look of glazed pain in her eyes.

Kethry dragged herself to Tarma's side, and sat down with a thump.

"Now what?" Tarma asked in a voice dulled by emotional and physical exhaustion, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "Now what are we going to do with him?"

"I -- I don't know."

"I shall take charge of her," the priest said, "She is in no state to be a threat to us, and we can easily keep her in a place from which she shall find escape impossible until she has a true change of heart. My child," he addressed himself to Tarma, concern in his eyes, "what is amiss?"

"My bond -- it's gone -- " she looked up at the priest's round, anxious face, and the look in her eyes was of one completely lost.

"Would you fetch my fellows from the temple?" he asked Kethry. "That one is locked within herself, but I may have need of them."

"Gladly," Kethry replied, "but can you help her?"

"I will know better when you return."

She ran -- or tried to -- to fetch the little priest's fellow devotees. She all but forced herself past a skeptical novice left to guard the door by night; the noise she made when she finally was driven to lose her temper and shout at him brought the High Prelate of Anathei to the door himself. He was more than half asleep, wrapped in a blanket, but he came awake soon enough when she'd begun to relate the night's adventures. He snapped out a series of orders that were obeyed with such prompt alacrity that Kethry's suspicions as to their friend's true rankings were confirmed long before three novices brought her his robes -- those of an arch-priest -- and half the members of the order, new-roused from their beds.

Though simple, hardly more ornate than what he had worn to the inn, the robes radiated power that Kethry could feel even without invoking mage-senses.

A half-dozen other members of his order scurried away from the convocation at the cloister door and came back wearing ceremonial garments and carrying various arcane implements. Kethry led the procession of cowled, laden priest-mages through the predawn streets at a fast trot. The night-watch took one look at the parade and respectfully stepped aside, not even bothering with hailing them.

When she got them as far as the open door of the temple, her own strength gave out, and she stopped to rest, half-collapsed against the smiling image of the rain-god. By the time she reached the inner sanctum, they had the situation well in hand. The bodies had been carried off somewhere, the obscene carvings shrouded, a good deal of the blood cleaned up, and -- most importantly -- Thalhkarsh placed under such tight arcane bindings that not even a demigod could have escaped.

"I believe I can restore what was lost to your friend," the priest said when Kethry finally gathered up enough courage to approach him. "But I shall need the assistance of both yourself and the kyree."

"Certainly, anything -- but why? It will help if I know what I'm supposed to be doing."

"You are familiar with her goddess, and as Shin'a'in adopted, She shall hear you where she might not hear me. You might think of yourself as the arrow, and myself as the bow. I can lend your wish the power to reach the Star-Eyed, but only you of all of us know Her well enough to pick Her aspect from all the other aspects of the Lady."

"Logical -- what do I do? Warrl says -- 'whatever you want he'll do' -- "

"Just try to tell her Warrior that the bond has been broken and needs to be restored -- or Tarma may well -- "

"Die. Or go mad, which is the same thing for a Shin'a'in."

Kethry knelt at the priest's feet on the cold marble of the desecrated temple floor, Warrl at her side. Tarma remained where she was, sunk in misery and loss so deep that she was as lost to the world around her as Thalhkarsh was.

Kethry concentrated with all her soul as the priest murmured three words and placed his hand on her head and Tarma's in blessing.

Please Lady -- please hear me , she thought in despair, watching Tarma's dead eyes. I've -- I've been less understanding than I could have been. I forgot -- because I wanted to -- that I'm all the Clan she has left.

I only thought of the freedom I thought I was losing. I don't know You, but maybe You know me --

There was no answer, and Kethry shut her eyes in mental agony. Please, hear us! Even if You don't give a damn about us, she pledged herself to You --

Foolish child.

The voice in her mind startled her; it was more like music than a voice.

I am nothing but another face of your own Lady Windborn -- how could I not know you ? Both of you have been wrong -- but you have wrought your own punishment. Now forgive yourselves as you forgive each other -- and truly be the two-made-one - -

Kethry nearly fainted at the rush of pure power that passed through her; when it ebbed, she steadied herself and glanced up in surprise.

The little priest was just removing his hand from Tarma's bowed head; his brow was damp with sweat, but relief showed in the smiling line of his mouth. As Tarma looked up, Kethry saw her expression change from one of pathetic bereavement to the utter relief of one who has regained something thought gone forevermore.

A heavy burden of fear passed from Kethry's heart at the change. She closed her eyes and breathed her own prayer of thanks.

So profound was her relief that it was several moments before she realized Tarma was speaking to the priest.

"I don't know how to -- "

"Then don't thank me," he interrupted. "I simply re-opened what the demon had closed; my pleasure and my duty. Just as tending to the demon as she is now is my duty."

"You're certain you people can keep him -- or should I say her? -- from any more trouble?" she asked doubtfully of her erstwhile debating partner as Kethry shook off her weariness and looked up at them. To the sorceress' profound gratitude, Tarma looked to be most of the way back to normal -- a rapid recovery, but Kethry was used to rapid recovcries from the Shin'a'in. The face she turned to Kethry was calm and sane once again, with a hint of her old sense of humor. She reached out a hand, and Tarma caught it and squeezed it once, without taking her attention from the priest.

"Sworn One, we are placing every safeguard known to mortal man upon her and the place where we shall keep her," the little priest said soberly. "The being Thalhkarsh shall have no opportunity for escape. Her only chance will be to truly change, for the spells we shall use will not hold against an angelic spirit, only one of evil intent. Truly you have given us the opportunity we have long dreamed of."

"Well," Tarma actually grinned, though it was weakly. "After all, it isn't every day someone can present you with a captive demon to preach to. Not to put too fine a point on it, we're giving you folk a chance to prove yourselves." She managed a ghost of a chuckle. "Though I'll admit I had no notion you were capable of restraining demons so handily."

"As you yourself pointed out, Sworn One, when one goes to preach to demons, the preacher had best be either agile or a very fine magician." The balding priest's brown eyes vanished in smile wrinkles. "And as your partner has rightly told me, while Thalhkarsh seems helpless now, there is no guarantee that she will remain so. We prefer to take no chance. As you say, this is our unlooked-for opportunity to prove the truth of our way to the entire world, and as such, we are grateful to you beyond telling."

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