The Sworn (64 page)

“Then two of our hedge witches went mad, not long after the strange lights began. One of them ran off a cliff, screaming, and drowned herself in the sea. The other set herself on fire.” He shook his head. “Our seers say that they hear voices in their heads, evil voices. They draw runes around their beds to keep the spirits out of their dreams, but they say they can hear the voices singing, screaming, all the time.” His eyes were haunted. “Our healer had to drug one of our seers to make her sleep, it got so bad. Every time she wakes up, she starts screaming again.”

Tris exchanged glances with Soterius and Fallon. “We’ve had similar problems as far inland as Vistimar.”

“Truly?” Pashka said in surprise. “Then you know I didn’t invent this tale.”

“Our mages have felt it, too,” Fallon replied. “Something dark and hungry, just at the edge of the light. Most of them won’t sleep without a lantern lit, and some have gone to sleeping in shifts, so that someone is always awake and watching.”

Pashka leaned forward. “For generations, we Islanders
have been happy to be left alone. We don’t bother no one, and no one bothers us. But we know how to fight. Whoever is taking our men, our ships, as far as we’re concerned, they’ve struck the first blow. Nisim says you mean to fight them. If that’s true, we’ll fight beside you.” He sat back and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Thanks to Pashka and the Bay Islanders, we have more than a hundred small boats patrolling in shifts,” Nisim added. “Their boats will be perfect for harassing the enemy fleet, since they’re small and fast. They’ve also agreed to mount a lookout on the highest hill on the island, and if they see foreign ships, they’ll light the bonfire. We’ll be able to see it from here.” Nisim took a deep breath. “We’ve been recruiting from all the coastal towns as well, from the Isencroft border to the Principality border. In addition to Tolya’s privateers and Pashka’s fishermen, there are plenty of small boats that would be perfect for hit-and-run skirmishes, and some larger ships, cargo ships, that should be able to help hold off warships, depending on the size of the Temnotta fleet.”

“Thank you, Nisim,” Tris said. He looked to General Senne and the men next to him. Trefor, leader of the contingent of
vayash moru
and
vyrkin
, sat beside Senne, next to General Rallan. “What about the troops?”

Senne nodded. “We have men out on the beach digging trenches and laying snares. If the Temnottans get past the fleet, they won’t just stroll up the beach.” He gave a cold smile. “Wivvers has been doing what he’s best at: inventing things to cause mayhem and panic. We have a few surprises in store.” He glanced at Trefor and Rallan. “Trefor’s working with his troops. A fair number of the
vayash moru
served with one army or another, depending
on when they lived, and for some of them, since they’ve been undead. Fewer of the
vyrkin
have any soldiering, but he’s getting them organized. We should have his scouts out by nightfall tomorrow, and surveillance from the
vayash moru
who can fly.”

Tris turned to Fallon and Beyral. “Are the mages ready?”

Fallon and Beyral nodded in agreement. “They’ve been on alert since we left Shekerishet, scanning the road ahead of us and the land around us. We’ve needed to rely more on charms and warding than ever before, because of that hum Talwyn was talking about, but so far, no one’s been damaged by it.”

“And has your magic picked up anything?”

Fallon grimaced. “Yes and no. We’ve got a good variety of mages with us: healers, seers, scryers, and dream seekers, as well as air, land, water, and fire mages. Anyone with any kind of far sight is taking shifts on watch, and Beyral has been reading the omens in a variety of ways. There’s nothing conclusive yet from any of that, but we should be in position to pick up something when it happens.” She paused. “It may be that whoever is behind this knows we’ve raised an army. Maybe they’ve backed off from using magic—as Talwyn said, the Black Robes have stopped their attacks—because they’re getting ready for something.”

“Like a big strike?”

Fallon nodded. “That’s what I think.” She sighed. “We knew it was going to come. I have a mage from each element on watch in shifts. This time, we have enough mages to do that, thank the Lady. It should help us respond faster and to get a warning sooner.”

Fallon met Tris’s eyes. “What of the dead?”

Everyone looked to Tris. “I called to them when we first made camp. I know you chose this spot for the army because it’s been a battleground before.”

Senne nodded. “More than once, and that’s just in Margolan’s history. Given that it’s wide and flat and near the coast, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’ve been battles fought here no one remembers.”

“You’re correct,” Talwyn said. “My magic works differently from Tris’s, but I, too, sense the Ancient Dead here. Not just the Dread and the Nachale in their barrows, but mortal dead, just as ancient, beneath us.”

“I called them and they came,” Tris said. “They called this land home, even before Marlan the Gold claimed it, before it was Margolan. Some of them were Marlan’s troops. Some served Hadenrul, and some fought here before the bards and the scribes began their histories.”

“Will they fight for you? Will they join us?” Senne leaned forward, his eyes alight. Senne had no magic of his own, Tris knew, but after seeing what Tris’s summoning magic was capable of doing at Lochlanimar, Senne had become passionately interested in the military advantage a true summoner could pose.

Tris took a deep breath. “I’ve asked them to join us.”

The air became suddenly cold enough that those in the campaign tent could see their breath. Three glowing forms took shape in the open area circled by the chairs. The first ghost wore the armor common more than a hundred years before. His breastplate was shattered, and his death wound left a gaping hole in his chest. Next to him stood a man clad in leather and skins, with a crude, two-handed sword in a back scabbard and a necklace of bone and shells.

The third ghost carried a shield and sword of old
design, and Tris knew the ghost to be one of Hadenrul’s men. All of them had the look of leaders, and Tris knew that, in their lives, they had commanded legions of men.

“Welcome, honored dead.”

The third ghost looked at the talisman that Tris wore at his throat, the amulet he had taken from Marlan the Gold’s tomb, and then to Nexus, the spelled sword Tris wore in his scabbard. The three ghosts bowed.

Tris motioned for them to rise. “Have you taken my word to the spirits of your men?”

The ghost with the shattered breastplate nodded. “We have.”

“And what is their decision?”

The man who had served Hadenrul stepped forward. “We are agreed. In life, and in death, we serve the land that bore us.” He inclined his head. “We’ve felt the call of another power, one from beyond our land, a voice we don’t know. It would command us, conscript us, force us to serve against our will, to fight those descended from our blood. We have agreed, Your Majesty, that we would rather be destroyed than fight against our countrymen. We are yours to command.”

The ghost knelt then, joined by the other two spirits. The soldier who had served Hadenrul pressed his lips against the signet ring on Tris’s hand that bore the crest of the House of Margolan, and the others followed suit. Tris gestured for them to rise.

“This is Vitya, one of the most feared of Marlan the Gold’s warlords,” Tris said, introducing the leather-clad warrior. “Estan fought in the service of King Hadenrul the Great and was rewarded by his king for being crafty and ruthless in battle.” The second ghost inclined his head in
recognition. “And this is Dagen, who served my grandfather, King Larimore, with great valor.”

Tris turned his attention back to the ghosts. “When this is over, I’ll make the passage to the Lady for those who want to go to their rest. Those who want to remain, to guard your land, we welcome.”

“Will you protect us from the Hollowing?” It was Estan who asked, and his dead eyes were fearful. “Whatever calls to us wants more than our defeat. It would consume us. You’re a summoner. Can you protect us? We’re past fearing death. We don’t fear the passage to the Lady, whichever Aspect calls for us. But to be consumed, to be hollowed out, that has the power to frighten even the dead.”

Tris met Estan’s eyes. “On my crown and on my soul, I will use all my power, in life and in the Plains of Spirit, to protect you from the Hollowing. I swear it.”

Whatever else the ghost meant to say was interrupted when a runner burst into the tent.

“Your Majesty! The island beacon is lit. There are ships on the far horizon, lots of them, and the sky is red with blood.”

Tris led the way out of the crowded tent to where the entire camp stood staring at a sky gone crimson, as if a glistening curtain of blood shimmered across the dome of the night, blotting out the stars and darkening the moon.

Around him, Tris could hear commanders barking orders. Senne, Rallan, Soterius, and Trefor ran for their troops. Soldiers rushed to mobilize, and Tris caught a glimpse of
vayash moru
taking to the sky.

Only the ghosts remained with Tris. Estan raised his face to stare at the glittering, blood-red light. Then he turned to meet Tris’s eyes. “It begins.”

Thank you to everyone who helped make this book a reality, especially my husband, Larry, and my kids, Kyrie, Chandler, and Cody, who have to live with a writer and manage to do just fine anyhow. Thanks to my agent, Ethan Ellenberg, to my editor, DongWon Song, and to all of the team at Orbit for bringing this book into being. It truly takes a village!

Gail Z. Martin
discovered her passion for science fiction, fantasy, and ghost stories in elementary school. The first story she wrote—at age five—was about a vampire. Her favorite TV show as a preschooler was
Dark Shadows
. At age fourteen she decided to become a writer. She enjoys attending science fiction/fantasy conventions, Renaissance fairs, and living history sites. She is married and has three children, a Himalayan cat, and a golden retriever. Find out more about the author at
www.chroniclesofthenecromancer.com
.

The Sworn
is your first book with Orbit, but it’s not your first fantasy epic, isn’t that right?

Yes. The Sworn is my debut with Orbit, but since 2007, I’ve written The Chronicles of the Necromancer for Solaris Books (
The Summoner, The Blood King, Dark Haven, Dark Lady’s Chosen
). With The Fallen Kings Cycle books, the world of the Winter Kingdoms jumps to Orbit.

So
The Sworn
marks a new beginning for you?

For me and for the Winter Kingdoms.

Is
The Sworn
related to your other books? Can someone pick up this book and start here?

I intentionally wrote
The Sworn
(and its sequel,
The Dread
, coming in 2012), to be a starting point for new readers, people who hadn’t read any of my previous books. It’s the beginning of a new adventure, and the
threat faced by the characters has nothing to do with the villains in the previous four books. Having said that, I like to read a book where it feels as if the characters have their own pasts, so that it doesn’t seem like they have been sitting at home doing nothing until their “big adventure.” So the characters in
The Sworn
have personal histories and relationships, with the same kind of complexity you’d expect in real life. You don’t have to have read my prior books to enjoy
The Sworn
and
The Dread—
but of course, I always like it when people do!

What should your longtime readers expect?

For people who have read all of my prior books,
The Sworn
picks up about six months after the end of
Dark Lady’s Chosen
. Tris Drayke, Jonmarc Vahanian, and the other main characters (and some new ones) head into a brand-new adventure that’s unlike anything they’ve faced before. For longtime readers, this book should feel like a comfortable homecoming. And, of course, they’ll know the landscape and the characters very well.