Gail Martin - The Sworn

“Father seemed to agree with me, that they had to be for invading ships.”

Renn nodded. “That’s my guess.”

“Lange’s offered to post some men here at Brunnfen to protect you,” Cam added.

“From Father?”

Cam shook his head. “Now that we have more of an idea of what Alvior is planning, I’ve got to get back to Aberponte and warn Donelan. I can get there as fast as any messenger. It’s bad enough that Alvior has a dark mage-maybe even a dark summoner-on his side. Whoever’s backing him has some kind of navy or Alvior wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble to prepare the bay. The next move is going to be big, and unfortunately, Brunnfen’s going to be right on the front line.”

Cam paused and met Renn’s eyes. “It’s your choice. I’m not going to billet troops in your home without your consent. But I’d really like you to consider it.”

Renn looked from Lange to Cam. “Alvior’s the one who threw me in the dungeon and starved me, remember? Billet all the troops you want-only mind that they bring their own food, because we don’t have that much to spare.” He grinned. “Think you can get that alehouse of yours started before you leave? Soldiers like their ale, after all.”

“I’ll see what I can do about that.” He sobered. “Thank you, Renn. For everything. I’m sorry that I have to leave.”

Renn shrugged. “You’re the King’s Champion. And at least you’re not leaving me on my own. Alvior was none too popular in the village. I would be surprised if we couldn’t round up a militia if we put out the word that he might be back. Folks out here aren’t sophisticated, but they’re loyal to the king. And they don’t like strangers.”

“When Donelan hears about it, he might send a regiment or two to back you up. I’m starting to wonder what else is going on, and whether this is bigger than just Alvior.” Cam rubbed the stump of his severed finger, the one he lost to the Divisionists. “When I was captured by the Divisionists, Ruggs and Leather John said Alvior had been paying their bills. But Alvior didn’t have the money to build a navy. So my question is… Whose navy is it? I’d like to know that.”

“Before we fight them,” added Lange.

Aidane drifted in and out of consciousness, waiting to die.

Suddenly, the doors to the chamber slammed open. Aidane’s heart began to pound. Whatever her captors planned for her, it would not be an easy or painless death. Battered as she was, Aidane was aware enough to feel fear.

“Get the cages open. Take everyone. We’ll sort it out later.” The speaker was a tall man with straw-blond hair and blue eyes. Half a dozen men swarmed into the chamber, and with them was another man in brown robes. The robed man’s hood fell back. He was from Nargi and, by the rune necklace at his throat, a mage.

“Stand back from the doors, if you’re able,” the leader warned. Green light flared from the mage’s hands. The metal cages glowed for a moment, and then the bars became a dull gray and the cage doors swung open of their own accord.

The men began to heft the injured prisoners into their arms. Others helped the prisoners who could stand get to their feet. One of the men stood in the doorway to Aidane’s cell.

“We’ve got a problem.”

The man who seemed to be the leader came to stand beside him. “Mortal?”

The other man nodded. “Well?”

Aidane could barely turn toward the two men, even though she knew they debated her fate. Stay or leave, it would be over soon, whether or not the black-robed Durim returned. It was like a coin toss with no winner. King’s head, die now. King’s crest, die later.

“Bring her.”

Aidane could not bite back a moan as one of the men wrapped her in a cloak and gathered her into his arms, although she supposed he was being gentle. They seemed to fly up the stairs and into the cool night air. They were flying, just at treetop level. Aidane supposed it was the kind of vision the dying are said to see. If so, it calmed her. She had often wondered what the world looked like to the birds, to the sparrows and the crows that could fly away from Nargi and its problems, creatures of the air. On the ground beneath them, Aidane glimpsed men moving quickly, dragging bodies. She managed a thin smile. She was still dying, but the Black Robes had died first. Perhaps the Goddess did have a sense of humor, albeit bleak.

Aidane lost track of time. The sense of flying was peaceful, and if it turned out that her rescuer carried her spirit across the Gray Sea, well, so be it. She hadn’t counted on long life. The late summer’s night was cool, and Aidane could hear the chirps and croaks of night creatures. Finally, they slowed and then seemed to hover. Her rescuer landed gently, carrying her as if she were weightless. Even on the ground, the man who carried her moved with unnatural grace. Or perhaps, Aidane thought, the shock of her wounds just deadened the pain from his movements.

One of the other men gestured from the doorway for them to hurry. They entered the ruins of an old barn, then went down a set of stairs carved into the rock beneath and through a winding passage.

“Set her down.” The command came from the blond man. Aidane struggled to focus her eyes. His looks were average. He had a thin build, and now that she got a good look at him, Aidane could see that he was quite pale. He’s not from Nargi, she thought. But he just might be vayash moru. The leader’s blond hair was caught back in a queue, but even with it hidden, he couldn’t have passed by day as a Nargi, although Aidane realized that the man was speaking Nargi without an accent. Then she met his eyes, and her vision seemed to swim. In his place, she saw a shorter man, with the dark hair and features of a Nargi native. She blinked and the vision was gone. She’d heard that vayash moru could hide themselves in plain sight to mortals who could not resist their glamour. Now, she understood.

“Who are you?” The man looked at her, and Aidane knew he was deciding her fate.

“Someone with really bad luck.” Aidane’s words were slurred through her swollen lips.

To her surprise, the blond man laughed. He glanced over to the far side of the room and waved for a short, squat man to join them. “Varren is a healer. Let’s see if he can earn his keep.”

Varren looked up to the blond man for direction. “Put her right, if you can,” the blond man said. “If you can’t, end her pain. We can’t stay here long, and we’ve got a long road ahead.”

As Varren inspected her wounds, Aidane tried to keep her eyes focused well enough to look around. Varren looked to be the only mortal, other than herself, among the group. Even the mage looked to be vayash moru.

The chamber was smoky and torchlit, like the tunnels beneath the city. It smelled of soot and sweat and old blood. The wounded vayash moru and vyrkin Aidane had seen in the cells were being tended, and all looked to be healing faster than she could hope to. The vayash moru who had a stake through his heart gave a cry as one of the others pulled the stake free, but to Aidane’s surprise, the wounded man staggered to his feet moments later, looking shaky but functional.

Varren was muttering to himself as he made note of the gashes and broken bones, but he said nothing directly to Aidane. As she watched, the man who had carried her hurried over from where he had been talking with several other vayash moru to find the leader.

“You’re healing her?” He gave a jerk of his head toward Aidane.

“I want to know her story, Zhan. Why was a mortal in one of their cells? There might be more to her than we know.”

It was obvious that her rescuer, Zhan, did not share the leader’s opinion. “She was there to be a sacrifice. Fresh, human blood. She’ll slow us down. She can’t heal like the others. We can’t afford to get caught.”