Page 100 of An Honored Vow

“Now!” I shouted, preparing myself to shield as many as I could with my earth wielding. But there was no need.

Fyrel had transformed herself into a gargantuan beast. She snarled, spit dripping from fangs that were larger than me as she stood on her hind legs. She was taller than the masts of the ships, taller than the trees that grew in the frostbitten soil of Volcar. Tall and large enough to throw a thick spear toward thewaateyshir.

But it was no spear.

Syrra was perfectly aligned—body straight as an arrow—as Fyrel launched her toward the sky. The beast opened its wings in shock, just as Syrra had wanted. She twisted midair and swung her golden sword into the beast’s red center.

But thewaateyshirsnapped its beak. It caught Syrra’s boot and flung her to the left. The edge of her blade scraped the beast’s wing, and it erupted into a terrifying screech. The air turned hot as inky shadows leaked from its wing. It hung its head like it was in pain, but there was no blood leaking from its body, only hot tendrils of darkness that scorched the ground as they fell.

Everyone went still. Not a soul moved in the city or the battlefield outside of it. None except for the Dagger, who was waving his arm with a hand against his chest. The pendant’s glow had begun to fade as the beast thrashed and flapped.

Syrra twisted in the air before hitting the ground. She spread her arms wide and thick flaps of leather snapped taut between her vest and wrist guards. Nikolai’s latest invention. I stoked my gusts under her belly and she caught flight on the current. She leaned, dodging the leaking shadow from the beast that raged overhead. She landed and winced. The top of her boot was burned away.

Gwyn pulled it off, ripping a layer of skin with it. Syrra’s scream was drowned out by the low call of a horn.

I looked to the channel. The horn was not one of Damien’s but ours. Myrrah’s ships circled the island and were rounding on the eastern side of the channel. They moved fast and without sails, floating on the currents that Myrrah directed from the middle ship. Crison stood at the top of the middle mast, arms pointing to the sky.

The two other shadowy beasts no longer circled the smoking mountain but were coming to defend their kin. I searched for the Dagger and found him in a crowd of soldiers—the pendant on his chest completely dark.

We wereallunder attack.

Syrra’s eyes widened, tracking the beast. She pointed to her leg. “Heal it!”

I assessed her wound. Her brown skin was bubbled and black, covered in dirt and ash. “I can’t heal it without cleaning it first. The beast’s magic still lingers. I know how to get rid of it.”

Syrra opened her mouth to argue but Gwyn stuffed one of Nikolai’s handkerchiefs between her lips. The Elf grunted as Gwyn poured water over the wound. Syrra clamped down on the cloth, the tendons in her neck flexing as she screamed into her gag. Gwyn raised a glowing finger and looked up at Nikolai and Elaran.

“Hold her.” She glanced at Syrra, whose shorn head was covered with sweat as her chest pumped violently against her leathers. Gwyn’s mouth fell to a straight line. “Tightly. This is going to hurt much worse.”

She drew the rune directly onto Syrra’s open flesh. The amber glow inked itself onto the bloodied and burnt skin like it was paper.

“What are you doing?” I asked, horrified at the vessels popping in Syrra’s eyes.

“Debriding the wound.” Gwyn finished the spell and Syrra went limp. “The elixirs that clean the wound of an Unnamed One werealso used to debride wounds left by theshirak,but the death rune works in a pinch.”

Nikolai tugged his hair. “Death rune?”

Gwyn nodded. “It kills anything that may contaminate the wound. You can heal her now. There won’t be any adverse effects.”

“That’s dark magic, Gwyn.” I couldn’t hide the worry in my voice.

She only shrugged.

“Magic takes its toll.” I frowned. “You’re not exempt from that.”

Gwyn raised a brow at Syrra’s cleaned leg. “I will gladly pay it.”

“And what happens when the cost is too high?”

Gwyn just shrugged.

I grabbed her arm and whispered, “What happens if it is someone else who pays it?” I turned her shoulders so she was facing Fyrel. Gwyn’s cheeks heated. Her gaze dropped to Brenna’s name along my arm. She knew enough of my past to know how high that cost could be.

“The Halflings!” Elaran shouted, drawing her sword as the first of the new beasts attacked. Black fire and ash rained down on the city of Volcar, smashing through the wall that Feron had created and taking out everyone within the blast radius. Damien’s soldiers moved as one, as if he were controlling all theirs minds at once. They ran toward the city with their swords drawn.

“He doesn’t care about the beasts,” I balked. “As long as his men slaughter every Halfling in the city.” Panic struck my chest. Damien hadn’t sent the Dagger to use theshirakto attack us—he knew one pendant wouldn’t be enough to control them for long. They were merely a distraction. Something we had to fight while his men stormed the city. And he didn’t care if his men died during the siege.

He wanted a bloodbath.

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