Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood Read online

  He wished Kiernan were here to see it.

  Up ahead, a movement caught his eye and he was surprised to see an enormous Meeko lizard sunning itself on a boulder just off the path. The largest lizard on the island, it was extremely powerful and agile, and a single bite could prove fatal to a human due to the bacteria contained in its saliva. He was about to point it out to Airron when a hooded legionnaire passed by him. At first, he thought it was Rory due to his small size, but realized it could not be him as Beck could clearly hear the fireshifter laughing and conversing behind him. There was something very familiar about the way the legionnaire rode, and Beck was just about to ride up next to him when Airron said, “Did you see the Meeko over there, Beck?”

  Beck looked at Airron’s perpetually smiling face. “Yes. Huge, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Airron confirmed. “I already have a Meeko form.”

  Not surprised, Beck nodded and turned back to look for the familiar legionnaire, but he had already disappeared into the knot of soldiers. And, just as soon, he forgot about the rider.

  The Legion made decent time arriving at the base of the mountains just before sunset. The routine was established now for setting up camp and each man knew his part and went about it quietly with little conversation, tired from traveling and anxious for sleep.

  With the evening meal finished, Beck spent a few moments caring for Chasin at the picket line and then gathered his bedroll from the back of the saddle and returned to camp. The legionnaires were quiet and swaying tiredly before the mesmerizing dance of the fire, and it was precisely this silence and tranquility that made the sudden, deafening scream that rent the air so terrifying.

  Beck dropped his bedroll and crouched, the earth stirring in response to his call. His friends soundlessly materialized at his side, the air around Airron shimmering and fire already called to Rogan’s palms.

  “Be alert!” shouted Beck to the legionnaires who he was surprised to see were already standing ready with whatever modest magic they had available to them.

  Dismore emerged from the trees tugging up his trousers. “What in the bloody hell was that?” he cursed. “Is everyone accounted for?”

  There was a hushed stir of activity as the legionnaires looked around, and then Jon Anders whispered urgently. “No, Commander, Heath is missing.”

  Beck held up his hand and then bent down to feel the ground. “Hold on! Someone approaches. Actually, several someones.”

  The legionnaires waited silently and then turned as one to the sound of movement Beck detected several moments before.

  Beck swallowed. He had heard the childhood stories of the notorious usurpers of Galen’s Pass, but the sight of the horde of tiny terrors prodding a bound and gagged Heath into the camp with spears was alarming nonetheless. The Halfies stood three to four feet tall with very muscular bodies like that of an adult human male. The strong bodies were at odds, though, with the cherub faces and curly, golden hair. From what Beck had been told, those angelic faces could turn wicked in an instant with their mean-spirited and spiteful antics. These little creatures were the reason that this beautiful region was off limits to most Pyraanians.

  “What is the meaning of this?” demanded Dismore, and the tallest Halfie came forward, dressed in a loincloth, his chest and feet bare.

  In a high-pitched voice, the Halfie said, “You shall not pass.” He gestured to his companions, and they pushed Heath forward until the legionnaire fell to the ground on his face. Rory Greeley and the earthshifter, Jon Anders, hurried over to untie Heath and help him to his feet.

  “Now you wait just a Highworld-forsaken minute here!” bellowed Dismore. “As you damn well know, we are the Northwatch Legion of Pyraan and we pass through here twice every two years.” Dismore looked around, “Where is Verdie Vee?”

  The Halfie recoiled slightly at the name. “Verdie is dead. I am the Tribe Leader now, and as such, I tell you that you shall not pass.”

  “We have always had passage before,” Dismore pointed out in frustration.

  The Tribe Leader nodded. “Yes, that is so, but the clouds portend great peril. When the clouds portend peril, humans are usually the cause. More specifically, magic users are normally the cause which, as I can see by the marks on your necks,” he squeaked, sweeping his arm around, “includes all of you.”

  Dismore threw up his hands. “Oh, for Highworld’s sake. Listen…. uh, what is your name?” he asked the Tribe Leader.

  “My name is Vinni Vee, Tribe Leader, Cloud Reader, son of Verdie, and you still shall not pass,” he replied. “Until the clouds are clear, my fighters will ensure that no human shall pass.” The Halfie tribe raised their spears and thumped them back on the ground in unison in an apparent show of support.

  Not all of the yells came from the Halfies in the camp, and Beck swung his head up to the mountain shelves, some of which were a hundred spans or more off the ground. In the moonlight, Beck could see howling Halfies, including women and children, crowding each side of the path. Most of the children also wore a single loincloth, and the women wore one shouldered, short tunics above the knee.

  All held a rock in their hands.

  “Hey, stop that!” screamed one of the legionnaires. Beck turned to see Halfie fighters sneaking up behind the legionnaires and poking them from behind with their sharp spears and then darting off again before the larger humans could grab for them. One of the legionnaires shred his clothes to rags as he shifted into a black bear and lunged at the pint-sized imps.

  Rogan had had enough. Not much taller than the Halfie leader, he stalked up to Vinni and the Halfies in the pass abruptly quieted as he did so. “Tell your people to stop this nonsense now, Halfie,” he threatened, “or I will make them stop. Have you seen what an irate fireshifter can do?”

  Vinni held his ground and said in a solemn, but squeaky voice, “It is our way to be wicked, Master Dwarf, sir. It is part of our nature and we could not change it even if we would wish to.” He looked at Rogan and then pointed with his chin. “It would be like asking you to grow taller, sir. You cannot change your height any more than we can change our ways. It is how the Highworld made us.”

  Rogan threw up his hands. “How do you argue with that logic?” he asked Beck and Dismore sarcastically.

  Dismore surprised Beck when he turned his back to the Legion and whispered to him, “What do you suggest, Atlan?”

  He was leaving the decision to him? Thinking quickly, he said in a low voice so as not to be overheard, “I can easily distract and pen in those closest to us with a shieldwall, but that would only serve to send a rainstorm of rocks down on our heads from those in the pass. It also would not help Troop 157 at The Bluffs and soon to be returning through here.” He paused and ran his hands through his hair. “Give me a moment to try and reason with Vinni.”

  Dismore nodded.

  As Beck turned to speak to the waiting Tribe Leader, a single desperate shriek erupted from the foothills. Beck looked up and saw a young Halfie child tumble from his mother’s grasp toward the rocky terrain below.

  “Airron! Go!” screamed Beck.

  Airron’s lithe form took two, long running steps and shifted gracefully into a large eagle, his clothes falling away from him. With an eight-foot wingspan, the eagle shot into the air like a missile toward the falling child and gently grasped the tiny boy by his loincloth in both talons seconds before the young Halfie would have hit the ground. With effort, the eagle climbed back into the air with its struggling cargo and then wheeled around to hold the child out to his mother, wings beating furiously to hold its position.

  There was no gratitude from the Halfie woman as she grabbed her child and stuck out her tongue. Free of the extra weight, the eagle dropped into a low dive parallel to the ground, and Airron bodyshifted back into his human form on the run.

  Beck gathered Airron’s clothes and hurried over to him so he could dress.

  When they rejoined the group, Vinni said, “You did not let the child die. Why woul
d you do that?” he asked, seemingly genuinely puzzled over their behavior.

  Beck and Airron looked at each other, just as confused at Vinni’s question. Beck squatted down to the little Tribe Leader’s height. “We did it, because we would never stand by and watch an innocent child be hurt. Humans…magic users…are not as bad as you think, Vinni.”

  “Interesting,” was all Vinni said as he stared at Beck. “Strange, but interesting.”

  “My name is Beck, Vinni, and it is nice to meet you.” He extended his hand.

  Vinni was just about to spit on Beck’s hand when his eyes widened as big as saucers, and he stumbled back. “Oh, dear.”

  Beck traced Vinni’s gaze to the pendant around his neck that had come free of his shirt.

  “Oh, angels of the Highworld, you are Savitar!” As soon as the other Halfies closest to the camp heard Vinni’s words, they turned on their heels and ran, shouting, “The Savitars are in motion!” and “The time has come!” It was complete chaos after that as the Halfies along the shelves scampered down out of the foothills, pushing and shoving each other out of the way as they ran.

  Beck looked to Dismore for guidance, but the Commander just shook his head in helplessness.

  “Stop them!” Beck yelled to Vinni. “Someone is going to get hurt!”

  Vinni bowed to Beck as he started to retreat. “They will be fine, Savitar. You may pass, but you should do so quickly. The clouds were right and darkness descends!”

  Beck could only look on in bewilderment as Vinni, his fighters, and the rest of Halfies disappeared into the countryside.

  Kiernan watched the events taking place unfold with interest while attempting to stay out of the line of sight of Beck, Rogan and Airron. At least the problem of the superstitious Halfies seems to have resolved itself, she mused. She could not afford to be delayed by their half-mad mutterings. If she was discovered by Dismore now, before going through Galen’s Pass, he would surely send her back to Parsis on her own. Once through to The Bluffs and Troop 157 of the Legion had departed, Dismore would be forced to let her stay and train with her friends.

  She smiled at the thought of their faces when she made herself known.

  Especially, Beck.

  That young man is going to admit his feelings once and for all, she vowed silently.

  Chapter 7

  A SNAKE IN THE GRASS

  Adrian Ravener made the long trek to the docks and watched the frenzied activity impassively as the Cyman soldiers carried crates of supplies onto the one hundred war ships that would take him home to the Old World. The omnipresent rain began to fall more vigorously, so he adjusted his hood to keep it off his face. The storm was kicking up heavy winds and the soldiers were having a time of it on the rocking ships. Avalon stood by his side with her arm draped through his. He heard her mumble a few words and abruptly the rain around the two of them stopped and fell down outside of the protective shield she created.

  He glanced at her, nodded, and put his hood down.

  “How many soldiers will we have with us, Adrian?”

  “Fifty thousand. Each ship will hold close to five hundred men.”

  “Will that be enough?”

  He looked down at her and smiled. “Plenty.” Lucin’s prophecy quite expediently assured him of that fact. He wondered if Galen Starr was in Pyraan with the shifters. Was he aware that the Raveners were returning? In Pyraan or elsewhere in Massa, a confrontation with his old advisor was inevitable, and he was looking forward to the moment when Galen realized that he had lost and Adrian Ravener had won. Galen stole everything from him, and the wizened fool would pay dearly for that theft. He just hoped the Mage stayed alive long enough so that he could be the one to deliver the deathblow. He smiled with bloodlust at the thought. One way or another, he would find him. And, a Netherworld curse to any shifter who dares to stand in my way.

  Avalon noticed his smile and tightened her grip on his arm. “You seem in a good mood, brother. Does it have anything to do with your meeting with Saige last night?”

  “Hardly,” Adrian scoffed. “That boob would not know a vision if it reared up and ripped her nose off.”

  Avalon looked at him in confusion. “How can you say that, Adrian, when Saige was the one who gave us the very prophecy that set our return in motion?”

  “I say that because our army Captain has given me more information about the prophecies than our seer. Apparently, Lucin knew Saige’s grandmother and told me of another vision that succeeds the one we have already uncovered.”

  Avalon whirled around to stare at him. “Come now. What would Lucin know of such things, Adrian?”

  Adrian could understand his sister’s disbelief. “As I said, he gave me another vision, which I will share with you later. The more pressing nuisance is that Lucin is in possession of a third prophecy that he is holding over my head in order to gain freedom for the Cyman people.” What Lucin did not know was that Adrian had absolutely no intention of giving the mutants their freedom once he was back in power. For now, however, he would let Lucin presume he was in control. He needed Lucin to keep the army focused on the task ahead, but the Captain would be expendable after that—prophecy or no prophecy.

  Adrian gazed at the ships in expectation. He had yearned for this return for over three centuries, and there was much he missed dearly about Massa. Topmost among them were blue skies, a decent glass of spiced wine, and the small frame of a human woman under him. The Cyman cows did nothing for him and he took one only when absolutely necessary. Oh yes, he decided, the pleasure of a woman would be of the highest priority.

  “I hope you told him he was mad?” demanded Avalon, startling him out of his reverie.

  “Who?”

  “Lucin! I hope you set him straight about gaining his freedom.”

  Adrian shook his head at her transparent motives. “Why, Avalon, not ready to give up your little Cyman toy?”

  A red-faced Avalon glared at him. “I care little for Lucin or his son or any Cyman for that matter,” she spat, letting go of his arm and pushing away from him. “I am three hundred and nineteen years old, Adrian, and all that I want, all that drives me, is seeing the Old World again!”

  “Aye, me, as well, sister.”

  “Then, you must get the third prophecy from Lucin so we can understand what we will face upon our arrival. As a Mage, Adrian, surely you have ways of getting the information without too much trouble,” she challenged.

  Adrian was saved from replying when a shout came from the road leading to the docks. “Master! Master!” It was a young Cyman army messenger.

  “What is it?” he responded harshly to the boy.

  “I ‘ave a message, Master,” he said hastily and thrust a parchment into Adrian’s hands, no doubt eager to be away from him as quickly as possible.

  Adrian unfurled the note without hesitation and read its contents.

  “What is it?” asked Avalon.

  Adrian took his time reading and then said, “It seems we will have a vacancy in the cabin next to ours on this journey.”

  When she looked at him in question, he said, “By her own hand, our seer has decided that she would rather visit the Highworld than the Old World.”

  Adrian gestured toward the ship with an outstretched arm. “After you, my dear.”

  After the confrontation with the Halfies, the uneasy Legion spent the evening at the mouth of the pass. At sunrise, they proceeded cautiously into the narrow split in the mountain and despite a vigilant scrutiny of the passage walls and road ahead, they did not catch sight of a single Halfie along the way.

  Luck had been with Kiernan up to this point, but she knew she could not afford to let her guard down only to be discovered before the time was right. There was one unnerving incident when Airron caught her with her face turned directly toward him and he shouted to Beck, “Hey, I cannot believe it! There is…,” and then she slammed him hard with her mindshifting.

  Once a mindshifter locks a person in their magical grasp
, it is impossible to break the connection. Airron might as well of had a metal vise holding him and his thoughts in place as Kiernan inserted one of her own. Had Beck been paying more attention, he would have recognized the blank look that suddenly stole over his friend’s face.

  “What?” asked Beck distractedly as he was talking to the little fireshifter, Rory, who had not left Beck’s side since leaving Parsis.

  “Hey, I cannot believe it!” he repeated. “There is…. an apple tree over there!”

  Beck looked at Airron as if he were mad. “Yes, that is an apple tree, Airron. Thank you for pointing it out.” He looked sideways at the Elf. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure,” said Airron, rubbing his head and looking anything but.

  Kiernan could not stop the giggle that escaped and hurried away from her friends before they heard.

  Dismore called a halt at midday, and as soon as the Legion was settled into their routine and eating their meal, Kiernan slipped silently away. She wanted to wash away some of the grime off her body in a small lake she spotted through the trees. It had hardly been easy for her to bathe on this trip surrounded by thirty-six men.

  Discovering a path that she was certain would lead her to the lake, she took it and then found a large, flat rock to sit on, closing her eyes.

  Bajan!

  She waited.

  I am alone, Bajan, you may come!

  She opened her black eyes. Beaming, she stood when she saw her precious companion bound onto the leaf-strewn path ahead of her.

  Greetings, Princess.

  Kiernan rushed to the huge Draca Cat and threw her arms around his neck.

  Oh, Bajan, you cannot know how good it is to see you. She ran her fingers through his thick, soft coat.

  He nudged her affectionately. Now, now. I have been in contact with you every day of this journey, Princess.