Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood Page 2

  Beck came out of the stall and put an arm around her shoulders. “Of course I do. I wish nothing more than that you could join us, but you know the rules about girls joining the Legion. I guess they think it would be too…” he hesitated, blushing, “…distracting or something. How would I know?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she snorted. “Even so, there are so few female shifters coming to Pyraan every year. What would be the harm in letting those of us who are here and more than capable come along?” As she resumed her pacing, she began mumbling something about showing “them”, whoever “they” were, that it was not over yet.

  Just as she was about to launch into a new argument against the conservative rules of the Northwatch Legion, the stable doors banged open with a loud thud and afternoon sunlight flooded inside. They both turned to see Rogan Radek silhouetted in the doorway squinting to focus in the gloom of the stable. “Ah,” he said seeing his two friends. Five-foot-one and tough as nails, Rogan barreled inside with all of the refinement of a charging bull and patted Kiernan on the back. “Well done,” he said gruffly. “About time someone knocked Beck down a peg. He is too serious all of the time.”

  Beck pulled his white shirt down over his borrowed trousers. “Not true. What about the time I buried you to your shoulders in a sinking and left you there all night? That was comical.”

  Rogan smirked at the reminder. “I stand corrected. That was pretty funny…Hey!” he suddenly shouted in panic, kicking out his left leg. “What in the bloody…?” Beck looked quizzically at Kiernan and then back at the Dwarf as he suddenly began hopping from one foot to the other. “Get it out, get it out!” he screamed, the two thick braids at his temples flailing wildly.

  “What! What is it?” Kiernan asked, rushing to Rogan’s side.

  “Help!”

  “Calm down, Rogan,” Beck said firmly, holding his hands out.

  All of a sudden, a gray mouse appeared at the bottom of Rogan’s trousers. The creature swiveled its head left and right and then leapt free of the jerking pant leg and scampered a safe distance away before turning around and rising on its hind legs to smile broadly and unnaturally at the terrified Dwarf. Beck noticed Kiernan try to hide a smile behind her hand. After all, it was not very often that real mice actually looked up at humans with quirky little smiles of satisfaction on their faces.

  “All right, Airron. You had your fun,” Beck said to the mouse.

  Upon hearing the mention of his mischievous friend, Rogan narrowed his eyes at the rodent and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. He did not have to wait long as the air shimmered and then swiftly and fluidly the mouse transformed into a willowy, but strapping young Elf with purple eyes and long, silver hair. Airron Falewir’s perfect features were screwed up in mirth as he pointed, howling at Rogan.

  “You are not supposed to be using magic,” said Beck in a rote tone of voice. He used these same words often with his friends, and he knew that it was highly unlikely that Airron, who was doubled up in the corner, was going to heed them any more this time than he had any other. “Now, get dressed!”

  “Asha, friends,” said Airron between bouts of laughter, using the Elven word for greeting.

  Rogan growled as his murderous eyes fixed on Airron. Kiernan turned her back on the naked bodyshifter. “Come on, Rogan. It was just a furry, little mouse. At least it wasn’t a snake,” she said, and shuddered visibly. “I hate snakes.”

  Still grinning, Airron quickly pulled on a brown tunic and leggings stashed in one of the horse stalls and walked over to put his arm around Rogan. “Kiernan is right. Lighten up, fireball, because you know as well as I that it will not be long before the back of my cloak mysteriously goes up in flames again.”

  Rogan grunted in acknowledgement.

  “You have to stop grinning when you bodyshift, Airron,” Beck pointed out. “It gives you away every time.”

  Airron barked out a laugh, and when Airron Falewir laughed, they all found it hard not to join in.

  “You know,” Kiernan said. “Beck cannot be the only thing that gets knocked down today. Let’s go knock down a few pints of ale to help him feel better.”

  Together, chuckling, Beck, Kiernan, Rogan and Airron headed out into the warm, clear afternoon air, blissfully unaware of the frightening events hurtling toward them.

  The four friends would find very little to laugh about for a long time.

  Chapter 2

  AN OATH OF THE BLOOD

  The full moon and star-studded sky over Parsis lent a diffuse glow to the ring of torches lining the town square creating a dreamlike quality to the evening. The activity from Festival was finally winding down with just a scattering of folk remaining awake and gathered in small pockets of whispered conversation. Beck yawned tiredly as he shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench. Beside him, in front of the dregs of a fire built into a heavy iron pot in the middle of City Boulevard were several of the thirty-five young men who would make up Troop 158 of the Northwatch Legion departing for The Bluffs in the morning. Friends and classmates from the Academy mostly with the remainder from the outlying towns and villages of Pyraan.

  The legionnaires were quiet now, lost in their own thoughts about the journey ahead. Although usually uneventful, the trip was not entirely without danger. The most notable threats coming from Galen’s Pass through the Balor Mountains where travelers had to contend with frequent stone slides, pesky dragonwasps that showed no mercy if roused, and the impish Halfies who made their home in the foothills of the mountains. For these reasons and more, Pyraanians seldom traveled north of the pass.

  Beck heard a collective intake of breath and looked up. It was Kiernan. She had changed into a light blue, strapless gossamer dress that left her shoulders bare, arm veils secured at her biceps by gold cuffs, and golden sandals that laced up her leg. The sword embossed on the hilt with the royal crest of Iserlohn peeking up over her shoulder and the small dagger strapped to her thigh completed the outfit.

  “Move over,” she said to Beck as she approached, oblivious of her effect on the young men.

  Beck scooted over, and the scent of fresh soap and lavender spiked an unfamiliar sharp ache of desire low in the pit of his stomach. His body shuddered, and he was grateful for the darkness that concealed the flush he knew stippled his cheeks. Shifting again in discomfort, he noticed his father, the long-time mayor of Parsis, hurrying over to the fire with another man in tow. As an earthshifter, Jaimes Atlan was as burly and muscular as he was, but about three inches shorter.

  Kiernan leaned in close to him. “Who is that with your father?”

  He cleared his throat and dared not look her in the eye as he responded. “Never saw him before.”

  The legionnaires around the fire and Kiernan stood as the men approached.

  “Legionnaires,” said his father, “I would like you to meet Commander Trent Dismore of the Northwatch Legion.”

  The standing legionnaires quickly saluted the Commander.

  “At ease,” Dismore said in a gravelly voice.

  Beck regarded the stout Commander and, with his full face and ruddy complexion, he looked exactly as Beck suspected a military leader might look in these quiet times. One who had seen more dinner tables than battlefields.

  “The Commander will be your escort to The Crown Bluffs tomorrow as well as serve as magical coach once you arrive. In this capacity, he is very anxious to observe your skills during the testing tomorrow at the Academy.” When several of the boys groaned, his father quickly gestured for them to quiet. “It will be fine. As you have been told before, you are not expected to have mastery over your talent at the age you are.”

  Beck glanced to the side and saw Airron nudge Rogan and smirk arrogantly. Unfortunately, the Commander also noticed and narrowed his eyes at them with an expression that promised unpleasant interactions in the days ahead.

  “During your two years of service,” his father continued, “you will build upon your magical knowledge, be introduced to Legion
battle tactics, and then return to finish two more years at the Academy. Commander, do you have anything to add?”

  Standing with feet apart and hands behind his back, Dismore glowered at them. Without preamble, he said, “I have one rule and one rule only. Follow orders. It is that simple. Follow orders and we will not have any problems. Step out of line just once, and we will have to have a discussion.” Beck cringed. Non-hostile time or no, it was obvious the man was clinging to a very tight military tenet. “I do not care how good you think you are,” Dismore continued, looking pointedly at Airron and Rogan, “but we cannot uphold our duty to the citizens of Massa unless we have strict order within the ranks. We will meet at the Academy an hour before sunrise. I suggest you get what sleep you can.” With that, he simply walked away, the legionnaires smartly saluting his departing back.

  Instinctively, Beck’s father also turned to salute before he remembered himself and clapped his hands together instead. “All right, then. You heard the Commander. It is time that you all headed for bed. Come now, off you go.”

  “Uh…. Master Atlan, can I ask you a question?” It was a young fireshifter named Rory Greeley. Small for his age, he had little magic as of yet to command.

  “Yes, Rory?”

  The short youth kicked at the dirt shyly. “Well,” he began, “the shifters have been guarding The Bluffs for a long time now, but why, Master Atlan? I mean…I have heard about the blood oath, but how did it all happen?”

  Jaimes looked puzzled. “Have your parents not discussed the debt with you, legionnaire?”

  Rory blushed and shook his head. Some of the young men from the northern towns forfeited formal academic training at the Academy to stay at home and work their family farms, never setting foot in Parsis until joining the Legion at the age of eighteen as the law required them to do.

  “Well, you will learn more about the Mage War at the Academy when you return, but come around now and I will explain,” he said, gesturing for the legionnaires and Kiernan to sit back down around the fire. He was silent for a moment as he picked up a metal rod that was left leaning next to the iron pot and gently rearranged the logs to coax the blaze back to life.

  Beck was already well aware of Massa’s history and briefly debated leaving, but decided against it not wanting to appear rude.

  “It all began long ago,” began Jaimes as he sat down, his hushed voice lending a conspiratorial tone to his words. “Over three hundred years now in fact. Back when this great island of ours was a much larger continent and home to many different races. It was a very prosperous time for Massa and also a time,” he paused reverently, “of great magic, which, incredibly, was highly valued at the time.”

  It would be incredible, Beck silently agreed. A world where people did not blame shifters for all of life’s evils was something they all longed for.

  “Under High Mage Galen Starr, magic’s dictate was to be used for the greater good of all the people, and it was. It was used to create, to protect, to heal. As prominent members of the Council of Races, Galen Starr and the seven Mages under his command were involved at the highest levels of politics. There came a time, however, when one of the Mages began to plot to undermine other members of high standing within the government in order to usurp their power. His ultimate goal was supremacy over the lands and even suggested in private the enslavement of the other races. Little by little, his sinister plans met with success and, as with most forms of power, it had an intoxicating effect. He grew drunk with it. He grew more evil.”

  Jaimes shook his head in silent admonition to the long dead Mage. “His name was Adrian Ravener, and he was a very skilled fireshifter, but his persuasive skills turned out to be even more deadly when he convinced three of the Mages to side with him. Ravener also had formidable accomplices in his bodyshifter sister, Avalon, and her friend, Niema Gesbina, both of whom were sorceresses. Galen Starr tried to put an end to Ravener’s treachery, but he was too late. Dubbed Savitars, which means saviors in the old tongue, Galen and the three uncorrupted Mages were forced into a war of sorcery against the evil Mages. Unfortunately, it cost Massa dearly.”

  Beck knew that his father was putting it lightly. He had heard the story many times throughout his childhood from many sources. For days, lightning rained down from the sky and burned everything it touched. The earth heaved and killed hundreds of thousands of people. Buildings, property, and livestock were destroyed. Mountains fell. Entire lands disappeared when oceans converged and encircled the now smaller continent of Massa.

  “The war lasted for five days, and the devastation was immeasurable. Many races were wiped out completely. The Savitars destroyed three of the evil Mages, but Adrian, Avalon, and Niema confiscated ships and fled to the land north of here, which was once part of Massa. All of the Savitars perished in the war except Galen. Distrust was rampant after that, and The Council of Races was disbanded. After electing leaders to form a new governing council, which we refer to today as the Assembly of Kings, the last three surviving races of people made the decision to create new kingdoms separate from each other. As you know, the Dwarves migrated to the southern part of Massa and named their country Deepstone. The Elves moved east to the newly created Haventhal, and Men carved out the country of Iserlohn in the west. Before the three new Kings departed with their kinsmen, however, they extracted an oath from High Mage Galen. An oath to make up for the loss of so many lives and for the destruction of the world as they knew it. Galen was brought forth before the Kings bound and naked. While he could have easily used magic to break the binds that held him, he wanted the people and the Assembly of Kings to know how ashamed he was of the acts of his brethren, and he held his humility out in recompense to them all. It was then that he delivered the unbreakable oath of protection on behalf of all magic shifters.”

  The silence was so complete that Beck could hear no sound beyond the quiet crackling of the fire.

  “When the Kings asked Galen by what means he would secure this debt, the Mage replied simply, ‘blood.’ The King of Men then walked up to Galen Starr and spilled his blood onto the ground by slashing a cut through his abdomen with his sword.”

  Jaimes paused again.

  “The Kings also demanded that Galen gather the magic users and isolate them from the rest of the races and have them marked so that all shall know them.” Beck unconsciously raised his hand to touch the symbol of the athame, a double-edged dagger, tattooed on his neck. All shifters received the athame upon emergence of their magical abilities.

  The young fireshifter Rory cleared his throat and whispered innocently, “So, Galen Starr exiled us with his blood oath.”

  “Yes, Rory,” said Jaimes. “Because of Galen’s oath, all of the shifters on the Island of Massa are exiled to Pyraan with the duty to protect the races from evil magic. We are the only ones who can,” he added.

  Rogan spoke up. “So, even though Galen Starr is long dead, to this day the shifters remain bound by his oath?”

  Jaimes Atlan looked at the legionnaires around the fire. “The question is good, Rogan, but your assumption is wrong. You see, my dear boy, Galen Starr is not dead. He is still alive!”

  A murmur ran though the legionnaires, and Beck was just as stunned.

  “Still alive?” questioned one of the bigger legionnaires with red hair. His bulk gave him away as an earthshifter, but Beck had never seen him prior to Festival. “Sir, you would really have to think us daft to believe such a thing,” he snickered, elbowing his friend sitting next to him.

  “It is true, Heath,” said Jaimes to the legionnaire patiently.

  “How can that be after so long?” asked another.

  “That would make Galen Starr almost four hundred years old!” exclaimed Airron.

  Jaimes held up his hands to calm everybody. Once he had them quieted, he explained that, yes, Galen Starr was alive and living in the Elven land of Haventhal. “He is the only known magic user living outside of Pyraan, and he is actually more like six hundred years old. Af
ter devoting many years to the creation of the Magical Kingdom of Pyraan, he petitioned the Assembly of Kings and asked to live out the end of his days in seclusion in an undisclosed location.”

  What his father did not say, but Beck had been told, was that it was only after weeks of immensely heated debate between the Assembly of Kings that Galen’s request was granted. None of the Kings was comfortable with having any magic—no matter how benevolent— outside of Pyraan.

  Again, the redheaded legionnaire grunted disrespectfully.

  “Do you have a problem, red?” asked Rogan, temper rising to the surface.

  “I might,” replied the earthshifter with a level look.

  Rogan slowly stood, along with Beck, Airron, and Kiernan.

  Heath laughed scornfully. “Yeah, I did you hear that you freaks traveled in a pack. Come on, Jon,” he said to his friend. “I have had enough of child tales for one evening. Mages six hundred years old? Bloody hell, what a joke.”

  Nobody said a word as the two legionnaires departed.

  Jaimes stood and put his hand on Beck’s shoulder. “It is over.”

  “Somebody needs to teach that one a lesson,” snarled Rogan, but he did sit again.

  Jaimes looked around at the remaining legionnaires. “For the record, it is common knowledge that the Mages of old did have access to spells that extended life. Unfortunately, all of the lore and histories of the Mage was destroyed in the war, and we have never been able to regain even a fraction of that which was lost. Without a Mage to guide us, we only have our shifting left.” Jaimes remained standing, signaling an end to the evening’s impromptu history lesson. “Off you go now. You’ve only a few hours before your tests and journey tomorrow and,” he said, lowering his voice as he glanced around, “Commander Dismore does not take kindly to tardiness. Good luck, gentlemen. Your duty is appreciated.”

  As the legionnaires dispersed, Jaimes grabbed Beck’s arm to hold him back from the throng. After bidding farewell to his friends, Beck let his father put an arm around his shoulder and pull him to the side. “I probably will not have a chance to do so in the morning so I wanted to wish you well, son. Your mother and I will miss you terribly. We are very proud of you, Beck, and all that you have accomplished at the Academy. The Highworld knows, the next time I see you, you will be taller than me!”