An Oath Of The Kings (Book 4) (22 page)

Kane walked into view. His golden eyes ablaze with anger.

At sight of him, the Mage figured out that the bees were an illusion and spun on Kane, his large teeth snapping aggressively. A furred hand flicked and a rock the size of Beck’s head hurtled toward his son.

“
Divergia!
” At Kane’s shouted command, the rock veered harmlessly off to the side.

The spell drew Beck’s attention to the fact that his son truly was Mage now. Still, old habits die hard. As the ape charged forward, Kane reached a hand over his back and unsheathed the Sword of Iserlohn. The blade sprang free with a lethal rasp. Kane cut the next stone missile out of the air with the first swing and took the head of the Malakai with the second. The body hit the ground and the simian form slipped away, revealing the man beneath.

Kane walked by without a second glance at his victim and knelt next to Beck. “Are you all right?”

“I will be,” Beck answered shakily and allowed Kane to help him to his feet. “Did you find out how long I was trapped?” he asked, praying it had only been a few hours.

“Ten days.”

“Ten days!” Kane’s answer struck horror in his heart. “We must hurry!”

Beck limped along the path out of Torg as fast as his injuries would allow. The sound of many voices—too many—stopped him at the edge of the clearing at the beach. A hundred had turned into hundreds.

An argument danced on Beck’s lips, but he quickly suppressed it, remembering his grandfather’s words
. I must accept what is.
He suddenly felt lighter, more in control.
It’s easier to forge ahead when you have acknowledged your surroundings.

Beck looked out at his followers.
His army.

Kane had joined Jain and had a hand buried in his fur. Kellan stood with one arm draped around Maks and the other around Mila Stowe. Reilly Radek and the five Dwarves were there along with the protectors, Haiden, Gregor and Iben, and the Wildcat army of soldiers. And, of course, there was Tristan, the young leader of this motley group.

All fell to a knee when they saw him.

Suddenly, feeling overwhelmed, Beck swallowed. “I’m back,” he said, lamely.

A loud cheer went up and all faces looked up at him expectantly, placing all their faith in him.
And, I accept. Not in taking responsibility for the choices of others, but in accepting that I am a leader. I may fail at times, but I will never fail to keep trying to get it right.
Right now, getting it right meant abandoning his search for Kiernan to save Nysa. The decision left him numb inside.

“I must return to the Sarphia at once, but only the shifters will be able to travel through Aquataine with me.”

Tristan rose to his feet. “Don’t worry about that, King Beck. Except the guards and ole Arlen here,” he said, reaching up to pat the shoulder of the Cyman, “everyone here is a shifter.”

Digby is going to love this
, Beck thought with an inward groan.

“We better hurry,” Tristan added, signaling to the others to start packing their belongings. “We just received word moments ago. The Dwarves and Elves are attacking Nysa.”

The Dwarves and Elves surrounded the city of Nysa on all sides. It had been two days since Jala had been murdered and still no word from Gage Gregaros. No severed head of Lady Morningstar. The time for inaction had passed.

Yet, the knowledge did not prevent the niggling of doubt that wormed its way into Airron’s mind. This didn’t feel right. Massan against Massan. A war of races. Morningstar had pushed and prodded them to this moment, but why? Why drag them into Nysian politics?

Airron fidgeted atop his Haventi, the warmth of the rising sun and his wife’s body burning into his back. Melania squeezed her legs in a show of reassurance. She would ride with him—at least for a short amount of time—and there wasn’t a bloody thing he could do about it. At least Izzy was safe to the north with the camp followers where no harm could come to her.

He tossed a glance over his shoulder at his wife’s new personal guard. He couldn’t remember the Gladewatcher’s name, but the look he gave the Elf should be sufficient enough to let him know what would happen should he let harm come to the Queen. The Gladewatcher nodded. He understood.

Further behind, one thousand Elves sat atop their horses in perfect formation.
Oh, the burden,
he thought
.
How many times had he looked to Thorn with a jealous eye for all the fawning and adulation the King received? How grand it all looked to the outsider from Pyraan. But, there was nothing grand about consigning men to their deaths. There would be casualties—no avoiding that. He might even be one of them. Unless, of course, he could get to Lady Morningstar and end this war before it even started.

It’s time. Dear Highworld, help us all.

He looked to his left, where the Dwarven Army was fanned out to the west. On foot, most of them. And, angry. Airron could hear their low, guttural chants of “Jala” from here.

“Wave the flag!” he ordered the banner holder next to him. At the abrupt command, the young Elf almost dropped the green flag he held. After hastily straightening it out, he stood in his stirrups and waved it toward the Dwarves.

Drums rolled in response, signaling the start of battle, their ominous beat threatening and uncompromising.

“Forward!” Airron yelled out and nudged his horse out in front of the slow-moving army. He swept the line. “Keep a tight formation! If so much as a mouse gets through your ranks, I will have your hides!”

He yanked his horse around and galloped ahead. When he was a good distance away, he pulled the Haventi to a stop and leaned back against Melania. “You’ll stay to the back? Away from the fighting?”

She placed a soft kiss in the crook of his neck. “I promise.”

He wanted nothing more in that moment than to turn around. To take his family and the Elves and return to Haventhal. Airron Falewir could have made that decision. King Airron could not. “I must go.”

“I know,” she murmured against his skin. “Come back to me.”

“Never doubt that, my wife.” He patted her leg and slid from the horse. He undressed and handed his clothes to her and she made no effort to hide her gaze. With a chuckle, the air shimmered and he shifted into his hawk and shot into the sky.

The brisk current allowed the hawk to soar low overhead, razor-sharp vision picking out colors and shapes. The ground below trembled with movement. The morning rang with the sound of hoarse cries. The scent of fear and bloodlust coated the air. The hawk flew on, unconcerned about anything but locating its quarry. So intent was the search that it did not sense the other bird in the air until sharp talons sank deep into its flesh. The hawk screeched and lifted its legs. The two birds locked talons, sending them into a violent spin toward the ground.

The air flickered once again. The hawk’s gaze grew fiercer. Claws lengthened. Gray feathers turned yellow and freckled with black spots.

The attacking bird let out a frightened shriek at sight of the leopard eagle and darted away. The eagle let it go. It had other prey to be about.

The sounds below swelled as the humans picked up their speed. Time was running out. Zooming in closer, the eagle passed over many heads until finally spotting the one it sought. An avian screech tore from its mouth as it dove down and landed at the rear of the army of men.

Airron shifted and ran at a low crouch through the grasses behind the advancing soldiers. He grabbed a straggler from behind and silently took him to the ground with an arm wrapped around his neck. They struggled for a few moments, but Airron was stronger and kept tight pressure on the man’s windpipe to drown out any cries. When the man lost consciousness, Airron peeled the trousers and tunic from his body and quickly put them on. He slapped the man’s helmet on his head and sprinted forward to catch up with the others.

Once in line, the two men next to him gave him a cursory look, but otherwise did not say anything.

Taking that as a good sign, Airron pushed his way through to the front. Taller than most of those around him, he looked over the heads of the soldiers to where Lady Morningstar sat calmly atop her Palomino mare from the safety of the back of the army. A ring of officers surrounded her.

Airron mentally reviewed his cache of forms—the ones left to him after his fight with Rogan, anyway—and tried to decide which one would accomplish the deed and still give him a chance of getting out alive. He finally decided on his Goliath Arachnid. As long as he didn’t get stepped on, he could scuttle over, jump up and bite her leg and be off.

He didn’t get that far.

Something very hard collided with the back of his skull and buckled his legs at the knees. He crashed face first into the dirt and all went dark.  

****

Rayan galloped out of the woods at the head of his army of Falcons. It had taken them two days to circumvent the Dwarves and Elves surrounding the city and get into position in the Grayan Forest north of their armies.

One of his soldiers suddenly stood in his stirrups. “Up ahead!” he shouted, pointing to a small detachment of what looked to be Elves. Upon closer inspection, Rayan realized they were the camp followers.

He slowed to a trot allowing a Falcon officer to ride up next to him. “They’re all yours, Lieutenant.”

The officer blanched. “Are you mad? Those aren’t soldiers!”

“Your point?”

“You can’t expect us to attack noncombatants.”

“I expect you to do as you are ordered, Falcon!” Rayan snarled.

“There will be women in that group!”

Rayan knew he had to appease the soldier’s blood oath. “There are also Gladewatchers, Lieutenant, and they have declared war on Iserlohn! Those Elves are here to murder
our
women.
You must protect Iserlohn at all costs. You have your orders!”

“You want us to—”

“Ram those white-haired bastards right up the arse!”

****

“Distasteful, I tell you,” Quincy groused, waving his white-gloved hands at the insects circling his head. “War is
not
a gentlemen’s business.”

“Then, why are you here, Quincy?” Izzy asked.

The look of horror on his face almost made her laugh.

“I have been serving the Shael family ever since your mother was born, Izabel! When your Grandmaman asked me personally to serve the Lord and Lady Falewir, I could not very well refuse.” He cursed and swatted at another flying bug. “Your mother is like a daughter to me. Of course, little did I know that she would be Queen in my lifetime. It is an honor, but one I am not ashamed to say that I would prefer to enjoy within the confines of Haventhal.”

Izzy sighed and rubbed her sore backside as the manservant continued to grumble. She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting here to the north of the main army, but it had been hours. Her father seemed to feel confident he could resolve this quickly and she hoped he was right. She just wanted this whole conflict over so she could go into the beautiful city of Nysa and see Kane.

This begged the question.
Why are we even here?
She had asked several of the Gladewatchers, but none of them could offer up a satisfactory answer.
Surely, Iserlohn doesn’t want a fight with us any more than we do them.

“Izzy!”

Izzy whirled around at the panicked shout from her guard, Elon Aubry.

“Guard the Princess!” Elon screamed, and several Gladewatchers pressed their horses in close to circle her and Quincy.

“Oh, dear,” Quincy muttered.

“What’s going on, Elon?”

She pointed. “Riders.”

Izzy stood in her stirrups. Gray dust rose above a line of soldiers tearing directly their way. Her heart hammered in her chest as she wondered whether or not they were friendly. An image of the Ellvinians flashed in her mind, sending a jolt of fear-induced adrenaline racing through her bloodstream.

“They’re not slowing,” Elon hissed. “Set up two lines, Gladewatchers!”

Murmurs from the camp followers started to grow more concerned. Izzy glanced back at the main Haventhal army intentionally spaced a half a league away to allow for adequate distance from the fighting in the event her father’s negotiations failed. This small group with Izzy that was comprised of a hundred soldiers or so and another hundred followers—cooks, blacksmiths, farriers and servants—could not possibly be the target of an attack. Could they?
 

“Should we go to the main army?” Quincy asked nervously.

“No,” Elon answered. “The soldiers will be upon you before you can get there leaving you without protection.” She turned to the followers. “Hurry! Move behind the second line of Gladewatchers!”

The followers dropped what they were doing to comply with Elon’s order. Hundreds of Elven feet sprinted over the ground in a white cloud of motion. The Gladewatchers directed Izzy and Quincy behind the followers in the rearmost position.

“Arm yourselves as best you can!” Elon bellowed. “Feralshift, Elves of Haventhal! Feralshift for your lives!”

“Oh, dear,” Quincy moaned once again.

Fear coursed through Izzy as she scoured the Grayan with her magic. Deer, rabbits, birds.
No! I need something with more teeth!

The riders came on in a surge of hoof beats, close enough now that Izzy could see the gray and orange of their tunics. Soldiers of one of the Houses of Iserlohn, but she couldn’t remember which one.

Izzy cast out further into the woods.
There! A wolf!
Not a Grayan, but it would do. She hurled out her magic and locked into the animal’s mind.
Come!

Elon forced her way inside the circle close to Izzy and thrust a short sword into her hand. “You know how to use this. Don’t hesitate.”

Izzy gripped the hilt in her hand. “I won’t. How many are there?”

“I don’t know, but they outnumber us. Just stay within your circle of protection. If the Gladewatchers fall and as a last resort only, ride like a demon for the main army.”

She nodded.

The wolf sprinted through the woods, winding sinuously through trees and brush in a desperate struggle to answer her summons. Other animals moved with the wolf now. A silent, menacing army coming closer.

Izzy grasped her horse’s reins in her left hand and held the sword in her right. The mounts of her Gladewatcher protectors danced and snorted in agitation. She glanced at Quincy who now looked about three shades paler. “Have you called an animal yet?”

He swallowed and shook his head.

“Why? Call one now, Quincy!”

“I…I can’t.”

“You can’t? Do you…? You can’t feralshift?”

He nodded his head.

“After all the grief you gave Father over the years?” she asked incredulously.

“I couldn’t feralshift a frog,” he admitted glumly. One of the soldiers handed Quincy a sword and he almost dropped it.

“Stay with me, then. I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, no, Your Grace,” he said, hefting his sword awkwardly. “I will not let Melania Shael’s daughter be harmed on my watch.”

There was no time to debate the issue further. The Iserlohn soldiers were near enough for Izzy to see the Falcon sigil on the front of their tunics.
And, they’re not stopping.

Out in front to meet them was the first line of fifty or so Gladewatchers, sitting bravely on their mounts, spears and swords held at the ready. Elon, in the second line of defense, made a hand signal and one of the few fireshifting Elves in the army sent a warning fireball into the air.

The Iserlohn soldiers did not flinch.

The faint sounds of howls and growls could be heard now, barely audible above the pounding horses.

Izzy sucked in a deep breath and held it.
Stop! Please stop!

Her silent plea went unanswered. The soldiers came on and crashed right through the Elven first line. Bodies flew through the air and were crunched under hooves. Screams rang out. Izzy watched helplessly as men on horseback slashed down at the Elves who had fallen. They in turn reached up to grab men from their mounts. Metal screeched as swords met. Sparks flew as the Elves fought for their lives.