Free Demonkin by T. Eric Bakutis Page A

good,” Aryn said, “because I don't think it would let me do that again.”
    “Aryn Locke is the third-born son of Dupret, mayor of Locke. A powerful and wealthy man. Is Aryn Locke the man who saved my life?”
    Tania had listened to Davazet. She knew everything and there was no hiding it now. “What else did you hear?”
    “Everything after it started choking me. I also saw the glyph you scribed on Davazet's chest.” Tania leaned closer. “Where did you learn demon glyphs?”
    “I'm not Demonkin, if that's what you're thinking.” To Aryn's surprise, that was true. He had scribed a demon glyph, yet felt nothing of their influence.
    From the forbidden texts in his father's library, he knew the Mavoureen influence weighed on a soul, a weight that grew heavier with each passing day. That was what Sera was dealing with, stuck in Tarna waiting for a cure.
    How could this be possible? Tania waited. She had stood beside him against a Mavoureen made flesh, risked her life and soul. He could risk telling her the truth.
    “I saw a Demonkin scribe it when she made a man into a davenger,” Aryn said, “and it seems scribing it on an actual Mavoureen doesn't have the same effect as scribing it on people. I'm not damned and I don't know why.”
    “I'll take your word for that.” Tania settled cross-legged by his bed. “Now explain the rest.”
    Aryn did. He told Tania everything that had happened on the road to Tarna, every trial, every mistake, every death. He told her of his torture in the Underside and his time as a harvenger. He told her of their fight with Cantrall, Kara's resurrection, Jair's brave sacrifice. He told her Trell was the bravest soldier he had ever met.
    When Aryn finished, Tania nodded and tapped her chin. “Cantrall was nothing like the cruel man you described. He was a good man and a good teacher.”
    “ That's the part you don't believe?”
    “I believe everything.” She dabbed at his forehead with the cloth. “But the Mavoureen can ruin a man's soul when they capture it, drive it mad and twist its thoughts.”
    Aryn's memories of torture made it far too easy to agree. What evil things would he have done to escape the agony of Balazel's furnace? What would he have become?
    “They took Cantrall's soul,” Tania said, “and turned him against all he loved. The best way to destroy Solyr would be to enslave one who knew all its secrets.”
    “But how did they get in?” Aryn asked. “I've always wondered that. How did they get to Cantrall in the first place? Solyr's wards should have kept them out.”
    “Ah.” Tania hesitated. “I know a bit about that. I may tell you some day.” She set the wet cloth aside and stood. “For now we must ride to Tarna and tell your friend, Kara, what happened here.”
    Aryn nodded. That made sense. “What about Dane?”
    “They'll do fine without me. So far as I know, the Mavoureen have never entered our world in their true forms. If that was Davazet, I don't know what to think, but Kara might. Tarna's mages will. Our world's in danger.”
    “Five take me.” Aryn sat up with a grunt. “How many times must I save it?”
    Tania brushed his blistered cheek with a finger, an unexpected touch that tingled. “You'll save the world again, soon enough. Now, you're sitting. Can you walk?”
    “Probably.” Aryn swung his trembling legs off the bed. “I don't feel broken.”
    “Then we'll head to Dane tonight, take horses and provisions. Kendra trusts me and Zeb won't question her. If we ride hard and rest perhaps six hours each night, we'll reach Tarna in five days.”
    “It takes a bit longer,” Aryn said. “Walking.” The way she seemed certain of everything reminded him of Kara, though not in an unpleasant way.
    “Trust me, Aryn Locke.” Tania rested her working hand on his shoulder. “I'll get you to Tarna.” Her hand felt warm and soft. “It might even be a pleasant trip.”
    Aryn didn't know what to make of this. She couldn't be attracted to