Children of the Blood Read Online Free PDF

children have you borne?”
    She choked out a reply that was too weak for Darin to catch.

    The high priest raised an eyebrow and then gave a bored nod to one of his men. A mailed glove rose and fell almost lightly against Peggy’s face. She jerked to the side, her chains still held by another Sword.
    “How many?”
    “N-none.”
    The Priest repeated his nod, the Sword his slap.
    “None, lord.”
    “This is your first, then. How long did it take you to catch?”
    At any other time, Peggy’s ears would have burned at the question. She gulped, but before the Sword could slap her bleeding mouth again, she answered.
    “I was—was married for a month, lord.”
    “A month?” The high priest nodded. “Take her, then.”
    He looked away, the slave already forgotten, and continued to choose his portion.
    Darin counted thirty-four. He lost count after that because the Swords came for him. Kerren looked up, choked, and looked away as they dragged Darin out of his life.
    Darin looked back to see the strained fear across his best friend’s pale features. He wanted to speak, to say something. Without thinking, he reached back, but the chains caught and held him as surely as the Swords did.
    There was no Renar here; no thieving prince to rescue them or to mete out the fate that the high priest had earned. Darin tried not to drag his feet against the wet dirt as the Swords brought him to stand before Vellen.
    “Boy.”
    Darin looked up to meet the gaze of the high priest. The older man’s eyes were blue and icy, and the comers of his thin lips turned slightly down in a frown. Darin began to shake. He couldn’t help it. Although he didn’t know what he had done, he knew that something had angered this man, and his life depended on the Karnar’s good grace. He waited for the high priest to speak.
    “Who was that other boy?”
    Darin shrank back, and the grips on his arms tightened. “A—a friend.”
    “Of yours, child?” Vellen spoke smoothly, softly.
    “Y-yes, lord.”
    “I see.” The annoyance ebbed away, and the edges of the lips turned up in a smile that was somehow far worse. The high priest turned to two Swords. “Take that one as well.”

    Darin’s heart sank as Kerren was dragged forward to join him. Kerren smiled shakily in a way that told Darin he was happier to be here than to be left behind. It was a smile that would haunt later.
    In a silence punctuated by the clink of chains, they walked away from what remained of the only home they had known.
     
    Later that night they became as Vellen had envisioned them.
    They were woken from sleep by the Swords; the high priest did not seem to keep normal soldiers in his command.
    “Come along,” an older man said, his expression a trifle bored. “We’ll be moving in a two-day, and the lot of you will have to be ready by then.”
    Darin was quick to wake, and silent besides. Kerren was not quite so lucky. He’d slept poorly the first three nights, even compared to the rest of the slaves, and the crisis that had come upon them did not make him easier to wake. He moaned slightly and tried to turn over when a Sword shook him harshly by the shoulder.
    “Is he all right?” a guard at the back asked.
    “Right enough. He’d better be,” the Sword replied, and aimed a swift kick at the young boy’s ribs. Keiren’s cry of pain forced the transition between the world of dream and the world of nightmare. His eyes shot open and he swung around, his lips trembling.
    “Mother?”
    A Sword laughed. It was a hideous sound, but Darin knew from the teaching stories that the Malanthi could make anything ugly. He bit his lip as the Sword’s foot connected once more with Kerren’s rib cage.
    “Enough, Callum. It’s the high priest’s right, not ours.”
    “Aye,” the man replied, just a tinge of regret in his voice.
    “True enough.” He reached down and yanked Kerren to his feet. “You’ve cost us time, boy. Believe that we’ll take it out of you if you don’t