An Oath Of The Kings (Book 4) (21 page)

With that, he left the tent and walked over to the structure next to his. Elon Aubry and another Gladewatcher stood outside.

“Is she inside?” Airron asked.

Elon nodded.

He moved to the entrance and called out. “Izabel?”

After a long silence, his daughter finally said, “Come in.”

Airron went in and found her sitting cross-legged on the floor, a book of poems on her lap.

“What can I do for you, Father? Surely, you haven’t come to free me from my—”

Izzy let out a strangled yelp as Airron grabbed her wrist and yanked her up into his arms. He pressed her head against his chest, wondering how he would feel if it were Izzy lying dead in those grasses and not Jala Radek. “I’m sorry.” That’s all he could manage to say, but Izzy seemed to understand.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Don’t be sorry, Father. I never should have come.”

“I just love you so much, Izzy. If I’m overbearing at times, it’s because I never want to lose you.”

Then, he pulled her down onto the ground and told her about Jala.

She crawled into his lap like she used to do when she was younger and cried.

And, he cried with her.

Rayan bent down, lifted the legs of the dead Mage and dragged him through the dirt to the freshly dug grave on the far side of the caves. With some effort, he swung the body into the hole and it landed on top of the other. He felt no remorse. The killings had been necessary. The cabal had been losing track of their goals for some time and needed to be put down like the feral dogs they were. The sorcery within their bodies had turned them against the cause. Convinced them that it would be acceptable to use their magic to obtain power and riches after the war. A fatal assumption on their part.

With Perrod gone on his suicide mission after Beck Atlan, that left five remaining Mages for Rayan to have to deal with. Of all of them, Zavier would be hardest to kill. Those black, soulless eyes of his that missed nothing. The equally black heart that would allow him to slice Rayan’s throat without the slightest compunction despite the years they had known each other.

Where is he? Why isn’t he here?

Rayan picked up a shovel and pressed it into the excavated dirt with his heel. He threw the first shovelful directly into the face of the Mage on top. He couldn’t bear to look at those open eyes any longer.

The pink rays of dawn were just peeking up over the horizon when his grisly task was complete. It was at that time that he heard the sound of horse’s hooves resounding up the road.

Finally.

He quickly discarded the shovel and hurried to the front of the caves.

Zavier raced up the dirt path, his horse frothing at the mouth. He pulled his mount to a stop and slid off. He didn’t look in any better shape than the horse. Rayan let the small dagger up his sleeve drop down into his palm.

“Rayan,” Zavier said hoarsely. “Quick. Get the horse into the cavern. I think I lost my pursuers, but I can’t be sure.”

Rayan made no move to take the horse’s bridle. “What happened?”

“I did it,” Zavier answered, slumping to the ground. “But, two feralshifters have been tracking me through the night.”

Rayan moved behind Zavier, the cold metal poised in his hand. “What? What did you do?”

“I started the race war.”

Rayan paused in thought. No matter where Beck Atlan disappeared to, the First Mage would undoubtedly return at news of a war. Unlike Perrod, Rayan had no illusions that he could defeat the First Mage himself and would need all the help he could get in killing him.

He shoved the knife back up his sleeve.

Zavier’s death could wait a few days.

Rayan turned at the sound of riders approaching. He wasn’t surprised to see his mother and the remaining cabal members. She looked disheveled, her normally well-coiffed hair in disarray. She whirled her horse to a halt, but did not dismount.

“Where have you been?” she barked at Rayan.

“I returned directly here after the disaster at the palace.”

“Ah, yes, Grace Hall, where you ran like a dog with its tail between its legs at first sight of the
Dagarmon
. You disappoint me, son.”

Debilitating shame reddened his cheeks. His hand twitched toward the knife he just used to murder two men with the intent of shoving it directly into his own eye. But, his mother’s continued questioning stopped him from the act.

“Where are the others?”

Rotting in a grave about ten feet from you.
“I haven’t seen them, Mother.”

“Well, find them. I’ll take the cabal with me. The Elves and Dwarves have joined armies. Take the Falcons you brought with you and circle around to harry them from the north.”

“As you command. I won’t disappoint you again, Mother. I promise.”

The smile she gave him held no trace of the warmth he hungered for. “See to it.”

****

The funeral pyre flames burned hot, rising high into the early morning sky. Whorls of color shifted as though alive, reaching—forever reaching—for more to devour. At least Airron could no longer see the tiny shroud that ensconced not one, but two innocent lives. For a time, that burning evidence of such unconscionable evil threatened to tip him over the edge into a rampage of destruction. But, he couldn’t go to that place. Rogan already dwelled there, and it was taking all of Airron’s effort to slowly ease him out.

“They killed my girls, Airron. They killed my girls.”

At least he’s no longer crying.
Airron glanced over at him. The two of them had been friends for nearly forty years, but he hardly recognized the husk of the Dwarf in front of him. The firelight flickered over the hard planes of a face etched in pain.

“Lady Morningstar will pay for her murderous acts, Rogan. I give you my word.”

“Poor Janin. I don’t know how she’ll survive this.”

They stood in silence after that for a long time as Rogan grappled with his grief. With each passing minute, acceptance seeped a little deeper, shoulders lifted a little higher. All Airron could do was be there for him. There were a million details that needed his attention, but he would not leave Rogan’s side until Rogan himself asked him to do so.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he finally said. “If you weren’t, I might have… Dear Highworld, all those Dwarves…”

“You didn’t, so stop gnashing your teeth over it.”

“Why, Airron? Why is Morningstar doing this?”

“Does it matter? The answer changes nothing.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.” Rogan’s jaw clenched. “But, by my blood oath, I will protect my people, Airron.”

“
All
people. That means we will leave the people of Nysa be.”

“Not Elinor Morningstar. She’s complicit in this whole affair by working with these rogue Mages. Damn that woman to the Netherworld and back! She led us by the nose right where she wanted us and we came.”

Airron rubbed his jaw and lamented once again the fact that Haventhal did not have Elven wizards. He supposed King Thorn never imagined his kingdom would be under attack by Massans. Neither did Airron. Yet, here he found himself.

“I wonder how many Mages there are,” Rogan wondered aloud. “Look at the damage Adrian Ravener caused on his own. Neither one of us can put off a coordinated attack by a faction of wizards. Our people will be slaughtered.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Do what?”

“I’ll kill Morningstar.”

“How?”

“You take the armies forward and I’ll infiltrate the camp and kill her before anyone suspects anything. If she’s dead, those Mages will have no reason to fight.”

“That’s speculation.”

“That’s all I have.”

Rogan sighed heavily, but did not argue. “How many soldiers do they have?”

“Two House flags, the Falcons and the Dragons. Lady Morningstar indicated she had six thousand with her.”

“And, us?”

“Three.”

“I like those odds.”

Airron snickered.

“What do you think Gregaros will do?” Rogan asked.

“I sent word to him. He has two days to turn over Lady Morningstar. Most likely, he’ll do nothing and hunker down behind his stone walls until this is all over. He wants Elinor Morningstar gone more than we do.”

“You really think he’ll stay out of it?”

“I’m sure of it.”

****

Gage crumpled the note from Airron Falewir in his fist. “Not on my watch, Elf,” he growled under his breath.

“Your Grace?” Captain Franck enquired. “You’ve been holding that parchment since yesterday.”

“Because I face a dilemma that I do not take lightly, Bo. Prince Beck put faith in me to make the right decisions for the realm, but I’m not so sure he will ever accept this one.”

The captain did not respond.

“Where the hell has Lord Hamilton scuttled off to? I would like to get the opinion of what’s left of the King’s Court on this matter.”

“Outside the gates, Your Grace. With Morningstar.”

“That bloody coward!” he murmured vehemently. “Turning against the Crown with hostile forces on our land? Elinor has found a way to his balls somehow.”

“Are they truly hostile, Your Grace?”

Gage turned to the Iserlohn captain, a long-time supporter of House Everard and a friend of his for many years. “I can’t let them do it, Bo.”

“Those Kings out there are Beck and Kiernan Atlan’s best friends,” he pointed out.

“I realize that, but no matter what Elinor has allegedly done, I cannot stand by and let those armies start killing the people of this land. I am King! I own the responsibility for their protection! Me!”

The captain’s mouth twisted. “As you command, Your Grace.”

“You think I’m making a mistake.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s not for me to decide.”

Gage nodded. Bo was right. No one could make this decision but him, and he would do what he thought necessary. He stood and tossed his robe over his shoulders. “Carry the order, Captain Franck! Open the gates! We will join with Morningstar against the Elves and Dwarves!”

A fierce wind blew, yet there were no clouds or sun or blue sky even. The flat, desolate horizon was all that separated land from air. Beck’s grandfather, Galen Starr, explained that very often the unsettled events in other realms produced an analogous effect here.
So, what turmoil is brewing now? Does it have to do with Kiernan? Nysa? Another threat I have yet to learn about?

Beck paced, agitated, at the lip of the deep valley that looked down on the Mage city. The passage of time moved differently in this sphere of existence, and no one could tell him how long he had been trapped here. It felt like minutes, but it could have been hours, maybe even days. Galen told him it was dependent on need and one could never be certain at what point in time the realm would expel him back to the world of the living.

Until then, the Mages worked tirelessly, battering at the obstructed barrier with a level of sorcery Beck could only hope to achieve one day. So far, nothing worked. Massa stubbornly remained sealed away from them.

Although he came for news of Kiernan, and was disappointed yet again, he had finally learned how the rogue Mages had come to be. According to Galen, fourteen men had arrived for training several months ago. At the completion of the instruction, these malefactors had overpowered Arias Sarphia before delivering the Mage oath, escaped and barred the veil behind them. Their ultimate goals, no one here knew for sure.

A tall figure appeared at Beck’s side, and he turned to the man on his mind. A man whose appearance had not changed in the twenty years since Beck had last seen him. “Any progress?”

Galen Starr shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“There has to be more that can be done,” Beck growled. “The people of Massa are powerless against these oathless Mages.”
And, my wife is missing.

“We are doing all we can, I assure you.”

Beck ran a hand through his hair. “What do they want?”

“I do not have that answer, Beck.”

He tried another question. “How did they find Torg?”

Galen let out a heavy breath. “That I do know. It was the realmshifter.”

“The realmshifter? Do you mean the Oracle?”

“Yes, but she did not give up our location easily. She was drugged, kidnapped, beaten and ultimately tortured to death.”

Beck cringed at the thought of what that poor woman had to have endured. “I find it difficult to believe that someone managed to kidnap her. Not with her abilities.”

“One of these Mages is a bodyshifter.” Galen gritted his teeth in an uncharacteristic show of anger. “He stole the image of my sister, Gemini, after her death and used the form to get close to the Oracle.”

“How did they find her?”

“According to the kidnappers, who, by the way, were quite free in sharing information with their prisoner, the idea to build a cabal of Mages started many years ago. When stories of the Oracle grew after her exploits during the Ellvinian invasion, the leader of this plot ordered his men to follow her trail for years with the express purpose of finding out how to enter the Mage realm.”

Beck shook his head in disgust, convinced that an Iserlohn noble was behind all this. “Can the Oracle still realmshift?”

“I’m afraid not. She walks only one realm now. The Highworld.”

Her death hit him hard and reminded him that he had yet to properly grieve Maximus’s passing as well. Two powerful people who used their lives for good were now gone from the world. It made him think of Vinni’s words that he needed to find himself. To
accept
himself.
What did that mean?
Yes, he often felt strangled by his titles—those he was born with, those he inherited through marriage, and those he earned by fulfilling his blood oath. Primarily, because he never had any choice in the matter.
So, who am I? Who do I want to be? I must now choose, Vinni said. But, why? Why is it so important?

“
I better get back. See if I can lend a hand.”

Galen put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Wait.”

The disquieting tone of that single word suggested a topic of great significance.
And, most likely something I don’t want to hear.
“What is it?”

“The LifeFire Tonic.”

“What about it?”

“You must drink it, Beck.”

“I will admit that I’ve been tempted, but I have decided against it.”

“You are First Mage. You cannot succumb to weakness. You must stay strong.”

“I can’t drink the tonic, Grandfather.”

“Why?”

“Kiernan. She is
my
weakness.”

“And, she will not drink?”

He shook his head. “And, I refuse to leave her behind. I will take the journey of life by her side and when it is time to enter the Highworld, we will do so when nature dictates.”

“If you do not drink, you will be letting her go sooner rather than later,” he said softly.

“What does that mean?”

“I am sorry, but your body is diseased, Beck. You will be dead within a year if you do not drink the LifeFire Tonic.”

“How do you know this?” he asked in a surprised hiss.

“I probed your body when I healed your shoulder. A malignancy is there within your cells.”

Time stopped. His life flashed before his eyes. The blood oath roared, demanding acquiescence. Demanding survival. “It’s a decision that will have to wait,” he said calmly, belying the cacophony of emotion rippling through him. “Right now, I have to find a way out of here.” With that, he walked away, determined to put distance in between that devastating news. He still managed to hear Galen’s last whispered words.

“Don’t wait long, my child. Don’t wait long.”

Beck clenched his jaw and strode across the cracked ground to where the sorcerers had gathered before the tent. Hundreds of white-robed figures talked in small groups, studied ancient texts or worked together to cast spells in tandem.

Kane and Kellan stood apart and looked on critically, as anxious as he to get back to Massa after hearing of the disappearance of their mother.

“You would think that with that many Mages working on this, they would have found a solution already,” Kellan stated in frustration as Beck approached.

“Don’t worry, Mila will be there waiting for you when you get out,” Kane teased.

Kellan raised his eyebrows. “I remember fondly a time when you did not talk.”

“I talked when I had something to say.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” he grumbled good-naturedly.

Beck smiled at their banter. His sons. Kellan with his easy smile and abnormally large physique. Kane with his intelligent golden eyes and the omnipresent Sword of Iserlohn peeking up over his shoulder. “Anything yet?” he asked.

Kellan shook his head. “No. But, they have learned that if we can create some kind of magical pathway to Massa, we can sever the spell blocking the barrier.”

“Magical pathway?”

“Another Mage on the other side, perhaps? Do you have any
Dagarmon
in the group you brought from Iserlohn?”

“I did not
bring
them,” Beck snapped. “They just showed up. But, to answer your question, no. There are no Mages with me.”

“How would we be able to connect or instruct them from here even if there were?” Kane asked.

Beck ran a hand over the stubble on his chin, his hope fading fast that they would ever be able to find a way out. It was quite possible that Gil Jordin would eventually decide to come looking for them, but when would that be? Certainly it would take weeks before the
Dagarmon
leader grew concerned enough to make the journey.

Kane’s golden eyes suddenly widened. “Wait! I have an idea.”

Beck straightened at the excitement in his son’s voice. “What?”

Kane did not answer at first. He simply stood there silently, eyes closed for several long moments making Beck want to scream.

“Yes, he’s close! I can feel him,” he finally said.

“Who is close?”

“Jain,” Kellan answered for his twin. “I feel Maks, too. They’re coming this way.”

Panic swelled in Beck. “The Malakai will kill the Draca Cats if they appear in Torg!”

“I don’t think they’ll have to go that far,” Kane answered. “The connection is already strong. I may be able to make contact now.”

Eager murmurs raced through the Mages that were near enough to hear, and soon the others moved closer as Kane made an attempt to reach Jain.

You can do this, Kane
, Beck silently implored.
Please, son.

When Kane opened his eyes, they were black.

“He did it!” Kellan exclaimed.

“Test the barrier!” one of the Mages yelled out and one of the wizards ducked inside the tent.

“It’s open!” came the immediate, muffled reply.

Beck turned to Kellan. “Have all the apprentices taken the oath?”

“Yes, we have. Galen made sure of that.”

“Good! Hurry now! Gather the Dwarves and go on through the veil. I’ll meet you at the beach.”

When Kellan nodded, Beck sprinted back across the landscape and found his grandfather where he had left him. He skidded to a stop. “The seal between worlds is open!”

“Oh, what wonderful news, Beck,” Galen said with a tight squeeze of Beck’s shoulder. “Thank you.” He gave him a sad smile. “I guess this is farewell once again.”

“Yes.”

“Take the advice of an old man. Let go of old grievances and accept what is. Accept who and what you are. You’ve only used a fraction of the power bestowed on you. You’ve become complacent. Accept!”

“More Halfie riddles?”

“Oh, my dear child, a Halfie has nothing on me,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

****

When Beck awoke in Massa, he wore a smile. As much for the joy at seeing his grandfather as in the fact that he was now moving toward his goals again. Toward Kiernan.

He crawled out of the tent into the deserted village of Torg and then stood.

No, not quite deserted.

Gemini Starr waited on the path for him, her long, gray braid lying over one shoulder.

Beck sucked in a quiet breath. He had loved this woman very much and the sight of her unnerved him.

“The woman who wants my head, I presume?”
And, the one who deceived the Oracle.
The imposter stood silently staring. Beck shrugged. “You know, I don’t particularly relish the idea of fighting a woman.”

“Be at ease then. I am no woman.”

“In that case…” Beck struck. He threw his hand out, unleashing a powerful ball of air that should have taken the Mage from his feet and flung him into the rainforest. It didn’t even touch him. The air dissipated against the shield erected around Gemini’s body.

A clap of thunder discharged alarmingly close and the ground exploded in front of him. He cursed and dove out of the way, rolling across the ground with the dull reverberation of the blast ringing in his ears.

Thick braid flying behind, the Mage sprinted toward him, volleying spells as he charged.

Beck dug his fingers into the ground and the dirt rolled up and over his body in a protective shell. It wouldn’t last, but it would draw the Mage closer. He waited beneath his makeshift covering while spells relentlessly assailed the earth around him.

Now!
With a growl, he burst out of the ground, a full earthen armor covering his arms, legs and head. The Mage flew back from the explosion of dirt. Beck stalked forward and drove a boot of stone at the wizard’s face.

The air shimmered and Gemini Starr vanished and, in her place, the hirsute body of one of the Malakai. The ape caught Beck’s foot in an enormously strong grip of his own and pushed. Off balance, Beck stumbled from the unwieldy weight of his armor and went down.

The Mage was on him in an instant, linking his fingers together and pounding Beck’s chest in a hail of two-handed blows. Chips of stone flew in all directions as the sorcerer hammered a hole in his armor and was getting dangerously close to the vulnerable flesh beneath.

A powerful fist struck him across the jaw and white dots appeared before his eyes. All attempts to come up with a spell failed. After the third hit, the white turned to black and he could no longer deflect the flailing arms.

“Hey, ape!”

The shouted words stirred Beck from the brink of unconsciousness. The fists stopped. The heavy weight lifted off his body.

Frightened howls followed.

Beck shook his head to clear his mind and let the rock armor slide from his body. He turned to the side and was confronted by the oddest image. The Malakai hopped in a circle, waving his hands over his head and screeching in alarm.

Beck focused his gaze.

A swarm of bees the size of birds buzzed furiously all around the ape’s body. Bees that could not possibly exist in this world. Unless…