Vows And Honor Book 1: The Oathbound

by The Oathbound [lit]

The demon and his followers had been inter-

  rupted by her entrance at the height of their plea-

  sures. And it was the sight of the demon's partner

  that had stricken Kethry to the heart—for the one

  being used by the demon himself was Tarma.

  But it was Tarma transformed; she wore the face

  and body the demon had given her when he had

  first tried to seduce her to his cause. Though smaller

  and far frailer, she was still recognizably herself—

  but with all her angularities softened, her harsh-

  ness made silken, her flaws turned to beauty. Her

  clothing was in rags, and she had the bruises and

  the look of a woman who has been passed from one

  brutal rape to another. That was bad enough, but

  that was not what had struck Kethry like a dagger

  to the heart; it was the absence of any mind or

  sense in Tarma's blank blue eyes.

  Tarma had survived rape before; were she still

  aware and in charge of herself, she would still be

  fighting. Mere brutal use would not have forced

  her mind from her, not when the slaughter of her

  entire Clan as well as her own abuse had failed to

  do that when she was a young woman and far more

  innocent than she was now. No—this had to be the

  work of the demon. Knowing he would be unable to

  break her spirit, Thalhkarsh had stolen Tarma's

  mind; stolen her mind or somehow forced her soul

  out of her body.

  The demon, wearing his form of a tall, beautiful

  human male, was the first to recover from surprise

  at the interruption.

  "Amusing," he said, not appearing at all amused.

  "I had thought the skill of those I had paid would

  more than equal yours, even with that puny blade

  to augment it. It appears that I was mistaken."

  Before Kethry could make a move, he had seized

  Tarma, and pulled her before him—not as a shield,

  but with evident threat.

  "Put up your blade, sorceress," he purred bra-

  zenly, "or I tear her limb from limb."

  Kethry knew he was not bluffing, and Need clat-

  tered to the floor from her nerveless hand.

  He laughed, a hideous howl of triumph. "You dis-

  appoint me, my enemy! You have made my conquest

  too easy!" He stood up and tossed Tarma aside; she

  fell to the pile of cushions with the limpness of a

  lifeless doll, not even attempting to break her own

  fall. "Come forth, my little toy—" he continued,

  turning his back on his fallen victim and beckoning

  to someone lurking behind the platform.

  From out of the shadows among the hangings

  came a woman, and when she stepped far enough

  into the light that Kethry was able to get a good

  look at her, the sorceress reeled as if she had been

  struck. It couldn't be—

  The woman was the twin of an image she herself

  had once worn—and that she had placed on the

  unconscious form of the marauding bandit Lastel

  Longknife by way of appropriate punishment for

  the women and girls he had used and murdered. It

  was an image she had never expected to see again;

  she had assumed the bandit would have been treated

  with brutality equaling his own by what was left

  of his fellows. By all rights, he should have been

  dead—long dead.

  "I think the bitch recognizes me, my lord," the

  dulcet voice said, heavy irony in the title of subser-

  vience. Platinum hair was pushed back from ame-

  thyst eyes with a graceful but impatient hand.

  "You never expected to see me again, did you?"

  Her eyes blazed with helpless anger. "May every

  god damn you for what you did to me, woman.

  Death would have been better than the misery this

  shape put me through! If it hadn't been for a forgot-

  ten sword and an untied horse—"

  She came closer, hands crooked into claws. "I've

  dreamed of having you in my hands every night

  since, gods—but not like this." Her eyes betrayed

  that she was walking a very thin thread of sanity.

  "What you did to me was bad enough—but being

  trapped in this prison of a whore's carcass is more

  than I can bear—it's worse than Hell, it's—"

  She turned away, clenching her hands so tightly

  that the knuckles popped. After a moment of inter-

  nal struggle she regained control over herself, and

  turned to the demon. "Well, since it was my tales

  to the priests that lured them here, the time has

  come for you to keep your side of the bargain."

  "You wish to lose your current form? A pity—I

  had thought you had come to enjoy my attentions."

  The woman colored; Kethry was baffled. She had

  only placed the illusion of being female on the ban-

  dit, but this—this was a real woman! Mage-sight

  showed only exactly what stood before her in normal-

  sight, not the bandit of the desert hills!

  "Damn you," she snarled. "Oh, gods, for a demon-

  slaying blade! Yes, you bastard, I enjoy it! As you

  very well know, squirming like a vile snake inside

  my head! You've made me your slave as well as

  your puppet; you've addicted me to you, and you

  revel in my misery—you cursed me far worse than

  ever she did. And now, damn you, I want free of it

  and you and all else besides! I've paid my part of

  the bargain. Now you live up to your side!"

  Thalhkarsh smiled cruelly. "Very well, my pretty

  little toy—go and take her lovely throat in both

  your hands, and I shall free you of that body with

  her death."

  One of the acolytes scuttled around behind Kethry

  and seized her arms, pinioning them behind her

  back. He needn't have bothered; she was so in shock

  she couldn't have moved if the ceiling had begun to

  fall in on them. The slender beauty approached,

  stark, bitter hatred in her eyes, and seized Kethry's

  throat.

  A howl echoed from behind her; a hurtling black

  shape leaped over her straight at the demon. It was

  Warrl—who evidently had met the same kind of

  delaying tactics as Kethry had. Now he had broken

  free of them, and he was in a killing rage. This time

  Thalhkarsh took no chances with Warrl; from his

  upraised hands came double bolts of crimson light-

  ning. Warrl was hit squarely in midair by both of

  them. He shrieked horribly, transfixed six feet above

  the floor, caught and held in midleap. He writhed

  once, shrieked again—then went limp. The aura of

  the demon's magic faded; the body of the kyree

  dropped to the ground like a shot bird, and did not

  move again.

  Lastel was not in the least distracted by this; she

  tightened her hands around Kethry's neck. Kethry

  struggled belatedly to free herself, managing to bring

  her heel down on the foot of the acolyte behind her,

  catching him squarely in the instep so that he yowled

  and dropped to the floor, clutching his ruined foot.

  But even when her arms were free, she was pow- />
  erless against the bandit; she scratched at Lastel's

  hands and reached for her eyes with crooked

  fingers—uselessly. Her own hands would not re-

  spond; her lungs screamed for air, and she began to

  black out.

  The demon laughed, and again raised his hands;

  Kethry felt as if she'd been plunged into the heart

  of a fire. Crackling energies surrounded both of

  them; her legs gave beneath her and it was only

  when a new acolyte caught her arms and held her

  up that she remained erect. With narrowing vision

  she stared into Lastel's pale eyes, unable to look

  away—

  And suddenly she found herself staring down

  into her own face, with her own neck between her

  hands! Kethry released her grip with a cry of dis-

  belief; stared down at at her hands, at herself,

  horror written plain on her own face. Lastel stared

  up at her out of her own eyes, hatred and black

  despair making a twisted mask of her face.

  The demon laughed at both of them, cruel enjoy-

  ment plain in his tone. He eased off the monstrous

  pile of silks and stalked proudly toward them, sweep-

  ing the bandit up onto her feet and into his arms as

  he came to stand over Kethry, who had sagged to

  her knees in shock.

  "I promised to change your form, fool—I did not

  promise into what image!" he chortled. "And you,

  witch—I have your rightful body in my keeping

  now—and you will never, never reverse a spell to

  which I and I alone hold the key!"

  He gestured at his acolyte, who dropped his hold

  on Kethry-now-Lastel and seized Lastel-now-Ke-

  thry's arms instead, hauling her roughly to her feet.

  "My foolish sorceress, my equally foolish toy,

  how easy it is to manipulate you! Little toy, did you

  truly think that I would release you when you take

  such delight in my attentions? That I would allow

  such a potent source of misery out of my posses-

  sion? As for you, dear enemy—I have only begun to

  take my revenge upon you. I shall leave you alive,

  and in full possession of your senses—unlike your

  sword-sister. No doubt you wonder what I have

  done with her? I have wiped her mind clean; in

  time I shall implant my teachings in her, so that I

  shall have an acolyte of complete obedience and

  complete devotion. It was a pity that I could not

  force her to suffer as you shall, but her will com-

  bined with her link to her chosen goddess was far

  too strong to trifle with. But now that her mind is

  gone, the link has gone with it, and she will be

  mine for so long as I care to keep her."

  Kethry was overwhelmed with agony and despair;

  she stifled a moan with difficulty. She felt tears

  burning her eyes and coursing down her cheeks;

  her vision was blurred by them. The demon smiled

  at the sight.

  "As for you, you will be as potent a source of

  pain as my little toy is; know that you will feed my

  power with your grief and anguish. Know that your

  blood-sister will be my plaything, willingly suffer-

  ing because I order it. Know all this, and know that

  you are helpless to prevent any of it! As for this—"

  He prodded the body of Warrl with one toe. His

  smile spread even wider as she tried involuntarily

  to reach out, only to have the acolytes hold her

  arms back.

  "I think that I shall find something suitable to

  use it for. Shall I have it mounted, or—yes. The fur

  is quite good; quite soft and unusual. I think I shall

  have it tanned—and it shall be your only bed, my

  enemy!"

  He laughed, as Kethry struggled in the arms of

  his acolytes, stomach twisted and mind torn nearly

  in shreds by her grief and hatred of him. She sub-

  sided only when they threatened to wrench her

  arms out of their sockets, and hung limply in their

  grasp, panting with frustrated rage and weeping

  soundlessly.

  "Take her, and take her friend. Put them in the

  place I prepared for them," Thalhkarsh ordered

  with a lift of one eyebrow. "And take that and that

  as well," he indicated the body of Warrl and Kethry's

  sword Need. "Put them where she can see them

  until I decide what to do with them. Perhaps, little

  toy, I shall give the blade to you."

  Lastel's hands clenched and unclenched as he

  attempted to control himself. "Do it, damn you! If

  you do, I'll use it on you, you bastard!"

  "How kind of you to warn me, then. But come—

  you wear a new body now, and I wish to see how it

  differs from the old—don't you?"

  Kethry's last sight of the demon was as he swept

  Lastel up onto the platform, then she and Tarma

  were hustled down another brick-lined corridor,

  and shoved roughly into a makeshift cage that took

  up the back half of a stone-lined storage room.

  Warrl's carcass and Need were both dumped un-

  ceremoniously on the slate table in front of the cage

  door.

  The room lacked windows entirely, and had only

  the one door now shut and (from the sounds that

  had come after her guards had shut it), locked.

  Light came from a single torch in a holder near the

  door. The cage was made of crudely-forged iron

  bars welded across the entire room, with an equally

  crude door of similar bars that had been padlocked

  closed. There was nothing whatsoever in the cage;

  she and Tarma had only what they were wearing,

  which in Tarma's case was little more than rags,

  and in hers, the simple shift and breeches Lastel

  had been wearing. Though she searched, she found

  no weapons at all.

  Tarma sat blank-eyed in the corner of the cage

  where she'd been left, rocking back and forth and

  humming tunelessly to herself. The only thing that

  the demon hadn't changed was her voice; still the

  ruined parody of what it had been before the slaugh-

  ter of her Clan.

  Kethry went to her and knelt on the cold stone at

  her side. "Tarma?" she asked, taking her she'enedra's

  hand in hers and staring into those blank blue eyes.

  She got no response for a moment, then the eyes

  seemed to see her. One hand crept up, and Tarma

  inserted the tip of her index finger into her mouth.

  "Tarma?" the Shin'a'in echoed ingenuously. And

  that was all of intelligence that Kethry could coax

  from her; within moments her eyes had gone blank

  again, and she was back to her rocking and tuneless

  humming.

  Kethry looked from the mindless Tarma to the

  gone, the link has gone with it, and she will be

  mine for so long as I care to keep her."

  Kethry was overwhelmed with agony and despair;

  she stifled a moan with difficulty. She felt tears

  burning her eyes and coursing down her cheeks;

  her vision was blurred by them. The demon smiled

  at the sight.

  "As for you, you wi
ll be as potent a source of

  pain as my little toy is; know that you will feed my

  power with your grief and anguish. Know that your

  blood-sister will be my plaything, willingly suffer-

  ing because I order it. Know all this, and know that

  you are helpless to prevent any of it! As for this—"

  He prodded the body of Warrl with one toe. His

  smile spread even wider as she tried involuntarily

  to reach out, only to have the acolytes hold her

  arms back.

  "I think that I shall find something suitable to

  use it for. Shall I have it mounted, or—yes. The fur

  is quite good; quite soft and unusual. I think I shall

  have it tanned—and it shall be your only bed, my

  enemy!"

  He laughed, as Kethry struggled in the arms of

  his acolytes, stomach twisted and mind torn nearly

  in shreds by her grief and hatred of him. She sub-

  sided only when they threatened to wrench her

  arms out of their sockets, and hung limply in their

  grasp, panting with frustrated rage and weeping

  soundlessly.

  "Take her, and take her friend. Put them in the

  place I prepared for them," Thalhkarsh ordered

  with a lift of one eyebrow. "And take that and that

  as well," he indicated the body of Warrl and Kethry's

  sword Need. "Put them where she can see them

  until I decide what to do with them. Perhaps, little

  toy, I shall give the blade to you."

  Lastel's hands clenched and unclenched as he

  attempted to control himself. "Do it, damn you! If

  you do, I'll use it on you, you bastard!"

  "How kind of you to warn me, then. But come—

  you wear a new body now, and I wish to see how it

  differs from the old—don't you?"

  Kethry's last sight of the demon was as he swept