Sons of the Oak Read Online Free

feeling more fatigued than his labors of the day could account for, and unpinned his green woolen cape. The lowest two girls were laid out side by side, and he imagined that his cape would cover both of them.

    But just as he pulled the cape up, one girl moved.
    He grunted in surprise and quicker than thought his boot-knife leapt from scabbard to hand. He stared at the girl for a moment, and saw movement again—a shifting in her belly.
    â€œIs … is there something in there?” Waggit asked, his voice shaken.
    And now that Borenson thought about it, he realized that the girls were too bloated for such cold weather. They shouldn’t have swelled so much in a pair of nights.
    He saw it again, as if a child kicked inside the dead girl’s womb.
    â€œThere are babies in there,” Fallion said, his face a study in horror and amazement.
    Leaning forward, Borenson plunged in his knife, penetrating the skin, so that the smaller girl’s belly flayed open. Out spilled its contents.
    Borenson saw several creatures—wet, slimy, squirming. Like black malformed pups feeding at their mother’s teats.
    One spilled out onto a limb, rolling to its back. Its eyes were lidless, like a snake’s, and vast and soulless in a wolflike face. Its tiny paws looked powerful, with claws as sharp as fishhooks. Its body looked too long for those legs, almost otterlike, with folds of skin that ran from leg to leg, like a flying lizard. But the creature had black hair, and its mouth held far too many teeth.
    â€œWhat in the world?” Waggit intoned with revulsion.
    The girl’s innards were mostly gone. Tripe, guts, liver. The monsters had been feeding on them.
    â€œEating their way out,” Waggit said. He asked the others, “You ever heard of anything like this?”
    â€œYou’re the scholar,” Borenson shot back.
    Both men looked to Daymorra for an answer. She was the one who had traveled most widely in the world. She just sat astride her horse, nocking an arrow to her great bow, and shook her head.
    Suddenly, from the highest branch above them, there was movement. A pale face turned to them, and a small and frightened voice whispered, “Get away from here. Before they come back!”
    A young woman with hair as red as cinnamon was staring down at them—fierce eyes as blue as summer skies, the eyes of a savage. With her pale complexion, Borenson had just thought her to be another one of the dead. She looked to be twelve or thirteen, her small breasts just beginning
to form. Her clothes were sodden rags, and her windblown hair had bits of leaves, lichens, and bark caught in it.
    He stared in surprise. The girl’s teeth were chattering. Strange, Borenson thought; I did not hear it before. She still clung to a scrap of cloth, a dark green coat. Her thighs were bruised and bloody, but her stomach was not yet bloated. Her rape must have been very recent.
    Borenson glanced back at the others, to see their reaction, but the young woman begged, “Please, don’t leave me!”
    â€œWe won’t,” young Fallion said, spurring his horse. In an instant, he was under the limb, reaching up.
    The girl leaned forward, grabbing him around the neck. She felt shaky and frail as she half slid, half fell into the saddle behind him.
    Fallion worried for her, hoping that there might be time to save her still. He wondered if it was safe to touch her—if the creatures inside might eat their way out.
    Borenson threw his cape around her shoulders. Fallion felt her tremble all over as she hugged his chest. She clung to him as if she’d die before she let go.
    â€œDo you have a name, child?” Borenson asked.
    â€œRhianna,” the girl said. Her accent was one common to folk in the far northwest of Mystarria.
    â€œA last name?” he asked. She made no answer. Fallion turned to see her. Her blue eyes were filled with more terror than he had ever seen in a human