Island Shifters - An Oath of the Blood (Book One)

  Beck knew he must look the same, and the pain in his ribs flared fiercely, but he pushed the ache down and away from him.

  “What do we do?” asked Rogan, hands on knees, breathing heavily.

  Beck looked up at the rock wall. “I don’t know. The compass is pointing east. This,” he said, pounding the leafy rock, “is east!”

  “Can we scale it?” Kiernan asked, stepping back to get a clearer view of the wall’s height.

  “Doubtful.”

  “We’re wasting time,” Rogan said impatiently. “We have to find a way around it.”

  Beck reached out with his magic. The wall itself, behind the profuse covering of jungle vines, was immense in both width and length and built several feet into the ground. Behind the wall sat a mountain of earth leagues long. He sought out any weakness in the stone that he could exploit to bring it crashing down, but found nothing. Broadening his search, he felt a void several feet to the north. “Wait!” he shouted. “I think I found something.”

  He pulled out of his shifting and walked over to the place in the wall where he sensed a hole in the stone. “Over here!”

  Airron ran over to help him clear the dense flora and when they were finished, a man-sized tunnel appeared. The Elf bent down to look inside. “Let me have the torch!”

  Beck handed it to him.

  A moment later, Airron’s voice came back as a hollow echo. “It’s going to be wet, but it stretches far into the mountain.” His silver head reappeared. “I think we should give it a try.”

  Beck nodded.

  Airron clapped Rogan on the shoulder. “Rogan is going to have to light the way. The smoke from the torch will be lethal in such a confined place.”

  “Rogan?” the Dwarf asked in disbelief, looking around at the others. “Did he just call me Rogan?”

  “Slip of the tongue,” Airron said, pushing him forward. “Now, get in there, Fireball.”

  Rogan grunted and walked hesitantly into the tunnel, creating fire as he went. Beck knew he hated tight, enclosed places as much as Kiernan hated snakes.

  Beck extinguished the torch and motioned the others in before him, taking up the rear. Water trickled onto his head and down the back of his shirt as soon as he ducked inside, and it continued to drip incessantly as they trotted. For the next hour, they trudged through ankle-deep water and the only break in the monotonous march was when Kiernan screamed out and kicked a rat against the wall. After that, all Beck could hear was the unremitting seepage of water and all he could see was Rogan’s flame flickering up ahead.

  As more hours passed, Beck began to regret the decision to enter the tunnel. Then, all of a sudden, he felt a sharp pull in the water and Rogan cried out. “The water is rising!”

  Not only was it rising, thought Beck, but a rush of rapids had developed and it was getting harder to maintain his footing in the gush now swirling at his knees.

  “We need to get out of here,” Rogan said, and Beck heard a slight tremor in his voice. Due to his height, the Dwarf would be swimming long before the rest of them.

  “Don’t panic,” he ordered.

  “Grab my clothes!” yelled Airron. “I’m going to scout ahead and see how far the tunnel goes.”

  Rogan stopped and turned his flame around in time for Beck to see Airron’s lanky body shrink down into that of a Hawthorne sturgeon. The large fish leapt out of the water and then disappeared.

  Beck reached for Airron’s clothes and boots in the soft glow of the magical flame and stuffed them into his pack. “Let’s keep going,” he said. “Kiernan, hang on to Bajan.”

  They continued their advance, and the water was up to Rogan’s chest by the time Airron returned and shifted back.

  “There’s moonlight up ahead, but we still have quite a ways to go. We’ll all be swimming before we get there.”

  “Bloody hell, I don’t think I can make it,” Rogan grumbled. “The magic is draining my energy, and I’m not sure how much further I can keep this up.”

  Beck urged the party to move as fast as they could but, as Airron predicted, it wasn’t long before they were treading water. Amazingly, Rogan still held his hand holding the flame up and out of the water. It was a heroic effort, and Beck knew that Rogan was the only fireshifter alive who could have kept up a constant shifting for so long without interruption. The one thing in their favor was that the water flowed very rapidly now and propelled them forward at a very quick pace.

  “Are there snakes in here?” Kiernan asked as she clung to Bajan’s neck.

  Beck was about to tease her when he heard a grunt and the flame went out, plunging them into darkness. “What happened?”

  “It’s Rogan! He went under,” shouted Airron.

  Beck swam as fast as he could toward Airron’s voice and together they reached down and pulled Rogan out of the water. Rogan coughed up a mouthful of water and moaned, his head hanging between his shoulders.

  “Beck, hang on to Rogan. I’m going to shift into an owl for a different viewpoint and so I can see in the dark. It can’t be that much farther.”

  “I have him. Go on.”

  Beck couldn’t see Airron shift, but heard the flap of wings moving through the air. He flipped Rogan onto his back and put his arm under the Dwarf’s chin to keep his head above the water, which now rushed powerfully through the tunnel. Up ahead, he heard a faint sound that grew progressively louder and more worrying as they drew closer. Uneasy, he tried to slow his momentum by reaching out to the wall but with one arm around Rogan, he couldn’t procure a grasp on the slippery sandstone. He knew they were near the end of the tunnel when he looked over and could see Kiernan’s gray outline beside him, arms still wrapped tightly around Bajan’s neck.

  She looked terrified.

  She said something to him, but he couldn’t hear her in the now deafening rush of water.

  With a whoosh, the owl was back, frantically beating its wings and shrieking. Beck couldn’t actually hear the shrieking, but could see the beak opening and closing in alarm. It was as close to a dire warning as an owl can give.

  Hang on! Beck mouthed to Kiernan, and tightened his grip on Rogan, motioning for her to do the same. Moments later, the four of them spilled from the tunnel at last, and out into the open night air.

  Beck’s stomach lurched violently as he fell with his semi-conscious burden held tightly in his arms. The drop seemed unending, and he mentally braced himself for the plunge into the churning froth of rapids beneath him. But, nothing could have prepared him for the physical impact as he slammed into the water. Sharp pain lanced through his rib cage, which now felt shattered into a million pieces.

  Darkness closed in on him once again as he was sucked down into the turbulent currents. He fought the instinctive fear of drowning, desperate for a breath, and kicked to the surface, still clutching Rogan.

  When his head finally broke free of the water, he drew a lungful of air into his body with a deep gasp. He turned back to look at the height of the towering waterfall in the moonlight behind him and decided it was only through the good graces of the Highworld that he had managed to hang on to his friend during their midair flight over the falls.

  Rogan’s attempts to cough out his intake of water sounded feeble, but at least he was breathing.

  Teeth gritted in agony, Beck swam to the water’s edge and dragged Rogan out onto the rocky shore. He scanned the darkness for Kiernan and saw her head erupt out of the water further downstream. When Bajan popped up next to her, she reached out and took a hold of his neck, but the Draca was having difficulty staying afloat with the added weight from Kiernan.

  Cursing, Beck ignored his pain, sprinted down the shoreline and dove back into the water.

  “Beck!” Kiernan managed to cry out before a wave crashed over her head, her grip torn from Bajan’s neck. Beck sliced under the water and caught her by the waist, pushing upward until her head broke free. Clenching his jaw against the throbbing ache in his side, he towed her to shore.


  Kiernan stumbled from the water and flopped down to the ground beside Rogan. The sodden Draca Cat crawled out a moment later, and the owl came next, fluttering down from the sky. Airron shifted back into his Elven form and fell back next to the others.

  Dear Highworld, we made it.

  “Is everyone all right?” Beck asked, an arm held tight against his stomach.

  Both Kiernan and Airron groaned affirmatively.

  “We’re going to need some type of stretcher to carry Rogan. I’ll see what I can find. Rest while you can.” He consulted the compass. It still pointed east.

  “I’ll help,” Kiernan said, and Beck held out his hand to help her to her feet.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “You’re soaked through to the bone.”

  She gave him a tired smile. “So are you and you can’t do everything yourself.”

  He kissed her on the nose. “Over here, then,” he said, leading her. “We need to find strong wood that we can use for the base of the stretcher.”

  “While you do that, I’ll look for some thin vines to lash the frame together,” she offered.

  It took longer than Beck expected to find just the right size and length of wood he needed in the blackness of day. Is it still day? He wasn’t sure anymore.

  When he returned to the water’s edge, Rogan, Bajan and a naked Airron were still lying on the ground, asleep.

  He nudged Airron with his toe. “Hey, wake up and help me build this stretcher.”

  The bodyshifter mumbled something incoherent, but sat up.

  “Where’s Kiernan?” Beck asked, looking around.

  “Dunno,” Airron said groggily. “Last time I saw her, she was headed into the forest with you.”

  Beck cupped his hands to his mouth. “Kiernan!”

  He received no answer and his heart skipped a beat. Just like in Iserport when Kiernan went missing, he knew instantly something was wrong. “Stay here with Rogan,” he said to Airron and tossed the wood to the ground, striding back into the forest where he had last seen her. “Kiernan!” he shouted again, pushing at the thick hanging creepers with annoyance.

  He stopped to listen.

  The forest was eerily quiet compared to the rush of noise from the waterfall in the clearing behind him. So quiet that as he stood perfectly still and listened, he was able to hear a small noise that sounded like a muffled cry.

  He hacked at the vines in front of him with one hand and shifted with the other commanding the landscape to part and provide him with a path. The leaves and vines untangled before him with a audible groan as he charged through. Not far into the forest, he stopped short in dread.

  He had found her.

  She hung off the ground tightly entombed in the grasp of a snake.

  If you can call what I’m looking at a snake.

  A forked tongue darted in and out of a massive head and around fangs the size of his fingers. The only thing he could see of Kiernan was the top portion of her head and her feet. The snake covered every other inch of her entire body.

  Beck moved into the open space of the snake’s lair, and the serpent watched him come with half-lidded yellow eyes. Kiernan tried to scream out when she saw him, and the snake responded by squeezing tighter. Beck heard the snap of a bone breaking. Seething, he thrust out his hands, fingertips sizzling, and the branch that the snake hung from split in two and crashed to the ground.

  As the snake fell, it loosened some of its grip on Kiernan to rush at him. He feigned a move to the left, but then darted to the right just as the snake lashed out to bite him. Spinning around, he slammed his fist powerfully down on the serpent’s head, and it released even more of its hold on Kiernan. She pushed at the snake’s body and began to crawl away backwards on the palms of her hands. The snake sensed its prey slipping from its grasp and whipped back toward her.

  Beck wove his hands again and the forest floor underneath the snake began to roil, sliding up and over the snake to bury it. Kiernan finally managed to disentangle herself completely, her arm hanging uselessly next to her body. She staggered to her feet and started to run, but the snake slithered out from under the dirt and wrapped her up again, this time covering her head. Her feet kicked violently as she struggled to breathe.

  Beck growled and cast his hand in a circular pattern. A jungle vine whipped out and encircled the snake’s neck pulling it taut. Stalking close, Beck grabbed the enormous jaws in both hands and used every bit of strength he possessed to pull the snake’s mouth apart until it cracked open at a hideous angle and the viper fell to the ground, dead.

  “Kiernan!”

  It took several minutes to unravel the large, sinuous body from around Kiernan, and when he did, her face was blue and she wasn’t breathing.

  He gathered her up into his arms and ran with her back to the clearing where Bajan’s heartrending cry pierced the air.

  Chapter 39

  Act of Disgrace

  Adrian Ravener approached the torch-lit battlefield with his sister at his side and hundreds of horned demon soldiers fanned out behind. Across the distance, he watched the Elven King, Jerund J’El, wind his way to the front lines of the Iserlohn Army with his elite Calvary force. Numbering close to a thousand, the hooded Elves made an impressive sight atop their white horses, high-stepping in synchronization and dressed in golden tunics that glistened richly in the soft light. Intelligent violet eyes missed nothing as they scrutinized the scene before them.

  Adrian recalled an old battle adage that claimed as soon as an enemy laid eyes on the golden hem of a Gladewatcher’s tunic, they were already dead.

  Not today, my friends. Today, you will be the first to die.

  For some reason, the Dwarves still had not made an appearance. Neither had the Savitars. Children, Avalon had called them. Galen should have known better than to send children against him, but what choice did the old fool have really? He was dying and all of the shifters that could have made a difference for Massa were dead.

  Adrian tapped his lip in thought. According to his scouts, the Iserlohn Army numbered fifteen thousand strong. Even with the newly-arrived Gladewatchers, it was a puny defense, so Adrian found it difficult to understand why they chose to fight.

  His gaze slid over the bannermen rigidly holding the scarlet and black standards of Iserlohn as well as the colors of King Maximus’s Houses and then went to Jerund as the Elf finally arrived at the space made available for him next to Maximus.

  The two Kings nodded to each other in greeting, and the Gladewatchers fell into place around the Scarlet Sabers.

  The pieces are all in play. Let the games begin.

  Two demons next to Adrian suddenly hissed out a warning and he noticed Lucin hastily approaching.

  Fool.

  “What ‘ave you done?” Lucin barked when he neared, his one eye wild with fury.

  “What have I done?” Adrian repeated. “I traded up. I realized that thirty wasn’t enough for what I needed to accomplish.”

  “But—”

  He leaned over to speak directly into Lucin’s face. “Now, step back, Captain, or so help me I will strike you dead this very minute.”

  Lucin glared at him for half a second longer than was wise before trudging back to his place with the Cyman Army behind the demons.

  Adrian nudged his horse forward. “Gentlemen!” he said loudly to cover the distance between the two armies. “By your presence here today, I trust that you have received the directives I issued and are ready to surrender. Although, technically,” he added with a twist of his mouth, “you have until tomorrow to do so.”

  King Maximus tore the black and scarlet standard from the bearer next to him and thrust it into the air. “The Army of Iserlohn will not surrender, Ravener! We will fight with our last breath until you and your monstrosities are defeated! We fight for Iserlohn!” A thunderous battle cheer went up from the throats of thousands of soldiers. “We fight for Captain Colbie Nash!” Louder cries yet rent the air. “We fight for our lives!” The
King let the yells continue unabated for several moments while his lords and ladies raced down the line and delivered his words.

  When it became quiet once more, Adrian bowed his head in acceptance. “Very well. Let it be known that the King of Men has chosen death for himself and his soldiers.”

  Even with the distance separating them, Adrian could see the King’s shoulders draw back. If there was one thing a righteous old goat like King Maximus feared, it was recklessly costing his men their lives in battle. It was one thing to lose men when fighting on the side of right. It was altogether another to lose men by making terrible decisions.

  “King Jerund J’El, what say you?” Adrian asked.

  The Elven King’s face remained coolly impassive as his calculated gaze fell on Adrian, long silver hair falling over his shoulders from under a burnished golden helmet.

  Thousands of men on both sides waited for the Elven King’s response.

  “We fight alongside our fellow Massans,” he declared finally. “You are not welcome here, Mage. You are but a pestilence to be eradicated.”

  “Odd that you say that, King Jerund, considering that the Elven women have been very eager to welcome us here.”

  Hundreds of purple eyes narrowed in unspoken wrath. Adrian knew he had to enrage the Gladewatchers, goad them into acting emotionally and shedding the imperturbable stoicism for which they were notorious. The only way to do that was through their women.

  He gestured and a red-eyed demon pushed through the ranks and shoved a young female Elf forward. The girl’s face was bruised and bloodied, her torn tunic hanging from her small body in ragged strips, barely covering her nakedness. The sight of the young girl created an immediate stir of agitation and muttered oaths among the Gladewatchers, their horses dancing beneath them in response to their rider’s distress.

  King Jerund held up his hand. The old King knew exactly what Adrian planned and sought to settle his soldiers before they acted on the taunt.

  It worked for the moment, the King’s gesture simmering the situation.

  Time to stoke the fire.

  At another nod from Adrian, the muscular demon shoved the girl into the center of the open space between the armies and threw her to the ground, where she lay crying.