Free The Betrayed by Igor Ljubuncic

children, the group made slow progress. But finally, they had reached the convent to find it blissfully quiet and whole. The sky was a sheet of beaten lead, keeping the sun at bay. They were soaked to the bone, and the chill ate at their resolve.
    Ewan could not believe the Caytoreans had not attacked this place. If what the two soldiers claimed was true, hordes of the enemy forces had moved up these roads, heading for Talmath. Leaving such a succulent prize intact seemed unbelievable.
    His eyes scanned the surroundings, desperately seeking signs of struggle. But he found nothing but empty rolling fields of thick, wild grass dotted with bushes and stunted trees.
    “There seem to be no Caytoreans around,” Duvall murmured, reassuring himself.
    “Quiet, lad,” Boris chided. Sedric had slipped away, reconnoitering.
    Ewan had no knowledge of the two men and did not trust them. They had the same air of dark past about them, just like his friend Ayrton. But unlike him, they lacked his kindness, his apologetic manners. They looked like bloodthirsty animals, glad to be free of their cage for the first time in years. The thought disturbed him.
    Ayrton would have never refused to go to Speann and help people, no matter the cost.
    Adrian knelt near him, clutching a sword he was not quite sure what to do with. Ewan knew they were deluding themselves with empty heroics. But there was no other way.
    The stupor and shock of the terror he had lived through in the last two days were slowly receding, leaving behind a hollow feeling of despair laced with anger. Alongside guilt and a dull yearning for revenge, his fever came back.
    It was much weaker than before, but it crippled him somewhat nevertheless. He sweated and coughed. His chest hurt from suppressing the coughs in an attempt to conceal his state from the other brothers. They did notice, but kept quiet.
    Again, last night, he had dreamt that same boring nightmare, waking drenched in cold sweat and rain. He was so angry when he rose that he’d punched a rock, flaying the skin off his knuckles.
    He shivered gently and his joints hurt, but he could ignore the discomfort enough to focus on the task at hand, although he seriously doubted he had enough strength to lift a sword.
    “Are you all right?” Adrian asked him.
    Ewan nodded, sweat dripping from his hair. Or maybe it was rain. “I’ll be fine.”
    Adrian did not seem convinced. “You are very pale.”
    “Silence,” Boris warned.
    In the vast open fields about them, nothing stirred. There was no sign of human life anywhere around the convent.
    In contrast to his former home, this temple had a breast-high wall encircling its vegetable gardens, presenting a barrier against intruders. Ewan hoped this was enough.
    He knew some of the sisters in the convent. Although the patriarchs insisted on keeping boys and girls apart until a certain age, the inevitable encounters happened all the time. Whenever the boys were sent to nearby villages to trade for goods, they would often meet their female counterparts. Ewan had even kissed one of the girls, Sarith. But he had not told his superiors about it. Only Ayrton.
    Sedric suddenly rose from the tall grass, waving at them.
    “Let’s move,” Boris urged. The group left their hiding place, heading for the temple. They walked briskly, alert, feeling exposed in the empty, quiet world. The dark sky overhead pressed uncomfortably.
    Boris carried a heavy riding crossbow on his back, but now he cradled it in his armpit, the string drawn taut, the groove loaded with a fat, thick bolt.
    Ewan walked, slightly swaying, his legs soft and trembling. Then, suddenly, racking pain lanced up his back, stealing breath from his chest, paralyzing him. He yelped and collapsed, shaking violently, curled in a ball of pain.
    “Ewan!” Adrian shouted.
    “Bloody child,” Boris cursed, running back.
    They stood above him, staring helplessly. He watched them, unable to open his mouth and say anything, his body