The Sworn by Gail Z. Martin Page A

itself, then when word got out that you could take away the pain from
vayash moru
and ghosts, and that you were willing to use your talents on
vyrkin
, well,” he said with a chuckle as Carina blushed, “you can’t blame them for hoping that if they reached the protection of Dark Haven and its brigand lord, the legendary healer Lady Carina Vahanian could take care of them.”
    Carina sighed and gave him a black look. “And whose fault is it that the stories have grown with the telling, hmm?”
    Carroway grinned. “Once a bard, always a bard, even with a busted hand.”
    The servants arrived with the supplies Carina had requested, and she signaled for Carroway to help. At the far end of the room, Macaria began to play a calming song on her flute, and after a few moments, Carina could see her patients begin to relax despite their pain. Macaria was an excellent musician, and her music had a bit of magic that could sway the moods of listeners.
    Carina maneuvered to kneel next to her first patient, one of the most severely injured
vayash moru
. He had been gutted, slit from ribs to waist, and his organs protruded from the wound. Other gashes were evidence that his captors had not been satisfied to cripple him, inflicting a dozen more deep cuts to increase his pain. Sakwi knelt next to her. “The magic in the cages didn’t just keep them prisoner; it also hampered their natural self-healing. All the Durim had to do was injure them too badly to fight when they captured them during daylight, and the cages kept them from healing enough to break free or fight back.”
    Carina muttered curses under her breath as her hands glided over the gaping wound in the man’s belly, pushing his entrails back into place. The dark ichor that replaced blood for
vayash moru
covered her hands.
    “Use this,” Sakwi said, creating an elixir from herbs he took from pouches on his belt, mixed with a sharp-smelling liquid from a flask he pulled from one of the pockets of his robe. “If they’ve poisoned the wounds, it should clean them, and it may lessen the pain.”
    The
vayash moru
groaned as Carina gently touched the wound. He looked to be in his early twenties, and Carina guessed that he had been undead less than fifty years to be captured so easily. A faint blue glow formed beneath her hands as Carina’s healing magic began to work, cleansing the wound and supporting the
vayash moru
’s own regenerative powers, helping him heal more quickly. After a few moments, the gut wound had closed, and Carina could see that the other gashes that had marred the man’s arms and torso had begun to heal.
    The
vayash moru
grasped her hand feebly. “Thank you,” he managed. Carina nodded, and signaled to a servant who brought a flask of goat’s blood and a goblet, pouring a drink and holding it for the weakened
vayash moru
.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Deinol.”
    “How were you captured, Deinol?” Carina asked as she and Sakwi gathered their supplies.
    Deinol took a long sip of the blood and closed his eyes. “I was betrayed by family. My wife and children kept my secret, and I remained with them until they died. But my granddaughter’s husband saw a chance to advance himself by courting the favor of the magistrate. He must have alerted the Durim.”
    “When you’re ready to travel, Lord Gabriel’s people will help you find a safe day crypt.”
    Deinol met her eyes. “I want to fight. I want to join Lord Vahanian’s militia, if he’ll have me. There are more out there, like the ones who captured me. I want to stop them.”
    Carina nodded. “I’m sure Jonmarc will be glad for the help. Now, rest.”
    Sakwi was already treating the next patient, a
vyrkin
whose front leg had nearly been severed by a vicious ax blow. But before Carina could kneel beside him, she heard a shout.
    “Carina, I need help!”
    An auburn-haired girl in her middle teens knelt next to an injured
vyrkin
in human form. The man had begun to convulse, his body rigid and