Blood Lies (Dark Brothers of the Light #9)
when
Sergei's fangs went in. Despite some suffering noises in the back
of his throat, Bonifaz did not scream.
    Konrad peeked over Willard's shoulder when
Sergei did Detlef. "Were they bad?"
    "They misbehaved. They'll be good now."
    "They don't hurt good boys. I'm a good
boy."
    "Yes, you are."
    Ignacio arrived, followed by two assistant
carrying a large brazier of hot coals with a branding iron thrust
into the middle. The branding went smoothly with a minimum of
fuss.
    Maruska watched the branding and then
returned her attention to Clovis. "You're still a troublemaker."
She waved her barb at him peevishly.
    Clovis opened his shirt. "Sting me then, if
it pleases you."
    Maruska glared for several moments, and then
flounced from the room with her entourage.
    Clovis waved at his people. "Let us finish
our prayers. They will be sending up breakfast soon."
    And so the faithful gathered and prayed.
    * * * *
    Small flurries of snow swirled and danced
along the streets of Eyndohen Town, piling high in the doorways of
empty houses and abandoned shops. Horst Abendroth drew his bearskin
cloak tighter around his broad shoulders, chilled by more than the
icy weather. He pulled at his makeshift leather armor, grinning
darkly at the thought of how the armor the heroes found in the
story books always fit. Horst had been a blacksmith before the fall
of Stolzingen: they had not been able to scavenge anything that
could fit his massive thews, barrel chest and stocky form. Instead
the females in their band of refugees had improvised by combining
pieces of several cuirasses to make a single cuirass for Horst,
binding it all together with cord.
    The uneasy peace of the dead lay over the town where
their people had taken refuge for the winter. They had had no
choice of location – the women and children simply could not travel
any further in the deepening snow. Smoke rose from the bonfire that
blazed in the courtyard of Eyndohen's Liege-Lord's estate. Fearing
the necromancers who marched with the Minnorian forces, Horst had
made a point of beheading and burning the bodies they discovered in
various buildings. It was a thankless and ultimately futile task,
as they would never have the energy to find all of the dead. But
they could not help but try.
    Horst wore a knapsack and carried an empty
burlap sack thrust through his belt so as not to interfere with his
weapons. His companion, Alons Von Geffen went likewise. They were
the only two – in a band of survivors, which had grown to slightly
more than fifty – with any training and experience in arms. The
other males had all been tradesmyn, shopkeepers and farmers.
    "As I remember, the apothecary was on
Eisenstrasse. Get what Birthe wants for the children's sniffles
first."
    Alons nodded, deferring – as always – to
Horst's wishes. That had puzzled Horst from the moment he first met
Alons, clearly a noblemon in his fine chain. Birthe, Horst's wife,
had wheedled the information from their priest, Franz, that Alons
was actually Lord Von Geffen; the only noble to escape the fall of
Nubyrlon. That made Alons’ humble manner all the more mystifying to
Horst. Alons gave out nothing about himself beyond the fact that
the White Lady had chosen him as her paladin and he had lost the
token of her favor, which troubled him to the bottom of his heart;
except that he refused to tell Horst just what that token had
been.
    Lion, three hundred pounds of brindle
mastiff the size of a small donkey, walked beside Horst. The two
bitches, Daisy and Saucy, were back with the others at the estate.
Horst had stumbled upon them – or rather the mastiffs had stumbled
upon him – when a ghoul managed to sneak into their camp last
summer and steal one of the children. Horst and Alons had given
chase and overtaken the creature just as the dogs finished it off.
The dogs were as delighted to find them as they were to find the
dogs. They no longer needed to fear another incident like that
happening with the mastiffs in
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