Gail Martin - The Sworn

A motion caught Jair’s eye. Something solid moved through the tall grass, and to his horror, the face of a young girl, no more than six or seven seasons old, pale and wide-eyed, rose above the mist. The image wavered, and as Jair ran his fingers over the amulets at his throat, the girl seemed to flicker and shift.

Emil started toward her, and Jair blocked his way. “She’s not real.”

Emil struggled against Jair, his eyes on the child. “They’ll kill her.”

“She’s not really here.”

“Let me go!” Emil broke away from Jair and stepped through the warding. Immediately, the shadows massed and the image of the girl winked out. Emil’s scream echoed in the night. With a curse, Jair dove after him, making sure to keep one foot within the warding as Mihei began to chant loudly. Jair caught the back of Emil’s great cloak and pulled with all his might. Claws tore at him, slicing into his forearm and shoulder. He twisted out of the way of snapping jaws and he pulled again. This time, he succeeded, landing hard on his back as Emil tumbled through the warding.

Emil’s skin was pale, as if in the few seconds beyond the warding he’d been nearly drained of blood. Long, deep gashes had sliced through his vambraces, down his right arm. Razor-sharp teeth left their imprint on his left thigh. Emil was trembling and jerking, groaning in pain.

Jair glanced up at Mihei, but the land mage’s full concentration was fixed on the battle beyond the warding. The ghostly child was gone. Jair had seen enough of battle to have a rudimentary idea of how to lessen Emil’s pain, and he rifled through Mihei’s bag until he found the flask of vass, mixing a few fingers’ depth of vass in his tankard with cohash and poppy. Jair pinned Emil with the weight of his body and forced his jaws apart until he could drip the mixture between Emil’s teeth. Emil’s eyes were dilated with pain, and his blood stained the dry grass red. Little by little, Emil’s breathing slowed and the thrashing ceased. Jair slid his fingers along Emil’s wrist.

“He’s got a pulse, thank the Lady.”

“Cleanse the wounds,” Mihei said in a distracted tone. “Use the vass. It’ll sting but it’s the best we have. Dimonns don’t carry plague like the ashtenerath, but their wounds fester.”

Jair did as Mihei said, gritting his teeth as he drizzled Emil’s wounds with alcohol and Emil flinched, gasping with the pain. Jair tore strips from Emil’s ruined shirt to make bandages and bound up the wounds as best he could. When he had done all he could for Emil, Jair applied the vass to his own torn arm and shoulder, then returned to Mihei’s side.

Outside the warding, the dimonns struck with increased fury.

“They’ve tasted blood,” Mihei murmured. “They’re hungry.”

“Wonderful,” Jair said dryly. “Now what?”

“Just keep me awake. It’s taking a lot out of me to keep the wardings up. You could sing.”

Jair looked sideways at him. “I can’t sing, even for Talwyn. You know that.”

Mihei managed a tired half smile. “Pain is an effective way to stay awake. It’s that or step on my foot. ”

In reply, Jair trod on Mihei’s toes. “Ouch!”

“Awake now?”

“Yes, thanks. You can save the other foot for later.”

As the candlemarks wore on, Jair paced the warded circle. For a time, he drummed on the empty water bucket with the pestle, playing a rhythm that kept both of them awake. When Mihei began to waver, Jair brought him more of the muttar gum and fanned his face. But as the stars overhead reached their zenith, Mihei was tiring. The golden glow of the warding dimmed, and the dimonns, sensing victory, massed against the shielding.

Alarmed, Jair started to his feet, one hand on his stelian and one hand touching his amulet in a gesture of protection. Beyond the warded circle, the phosphorescent glow had gone dark. Mihei’s eyes were bleary and his lips were dry and cracked as he struggled to reinforce the magical barrier. And although Jair had treated his own wounds, the gashes where the dimonn s had cut him burned. He was sweating, although the night was cool, and his heart was racing from more than mortal fear. Emil lay still and pale on the grass. Whatever poison was rapidly coursing through Jair’s blood, Emil had received a larger dose.

I’m going to die, Talwyn, Jair thought, fingering the metal charm. Forgive me.

The metal tingled under his touch and Talwyn’s image formed clear in his mind for the first time since the dimonn attack had begun. Hang on. Rescue… The voice faded, but hope was enough to shake off Jair’s fatigue. He ran to Mihei and shook him by the shoulders, rousing him as the glow of the warded dome dimmed nearly to darkness. The shrieks of the dimonn s were louder now, and just beyond the thin golden glow, Jair could hear the snap of teeth.

“They’re coming for us,” Jair whispered, afraid that the dimonn s might hear. “Try, Mihei. Try to hold the barrier until help comes.”

Mihei nodded. His eyes widened, and he slammed them shut, squeezing them tightly as his head jerked back and forth. Alarmed, Jair reached toward him.

“No. Visions. I see… our deaths. All dead.”

Acting on instinct, Jair gripped Mihei’s shoulder with his right hand and tightened the fingers of his left hand around the amulets that hung at his throat. He willed his breathing to slow, picturing a river of golden light flowing between his amulets and Mihei, warm and powerful energy to reinforce the mage’s failing magic. Mihei drew a long, shuddering breath and seemed to relax.

In the distance, Jair heard hoofbeats.

A crack like thunder split the night, and a wall of flame burst into light at the edges of Mihei’s wardings. A streak of light burned through the darkness, and the dimonns scattered, howling in anger as strong magic crackled through the cool night air. Mihei collapsed to his knees, and the last glow of his warding faded.

The fire flared, and in its light, Jair could see five shapes approaching. By their outlines, all had swords at hand. As they stepped closer, Jair could see that the five were Sworn, and leading the group was Talwyn, clad in leather armor, dressed for battle. As Talwyn and the others reached the stone circle, the ring of flames disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving only blackened grass behind.

“Open the circle,” Talwyn said, and Jair rushed to move stones out of the way to welcome the others into the warded space.

“How did you know?” Jair asked, as Talwyn knelt beside Emil.

“When I touched your dream, I sensed evil near you. Something was strong enough to keep me from reaching your dreams again to warn you. Janeth knew the route Emil and Mihei were going to take. We’d had to backtrack from where they left us because flooding had taken out the bridge on the river, so we weren’t as far away as Emil and Mihei would have expected. Even so, we had to ride hard to get here in time.”

Jair glanced at their sweat-soaked horses, then looked back to Emil. “The dimonns tricked him. They showed us a child beyond the wardings. She looked like Emil’s daughter.”

Talwyn nodded. “That’s hard to resist, even if you know better.” Jair looked away, not at all certain he could have resisted the bait had it been Kenver’s image the dimonns had projected.

“Can you heal them?”

Talwyn checked over both Emil and Mihei carefully before she nodded. “Yes, but not here. I’d like to be somewhere less exposed.” She looked up at Jair and cast a worried glance at his wounds. “I’ll need to look at that arm, as well.”

“Gladly,” Jair replied. The warmth of the wound had grown to a low fever, and he didn’t want to imagine how Emil was feeling.

At Talwyn’s command, the Sworn warriors lifted Emil and Mihei and carried them to their horses, draping each man over his saddle and securing them in place. Jair waved off assistance and swung up to his saddle, favoring his damaged arm but able to ride. They rode in silence, on high alert, for a candlemark until they came to an inn.