An Oath Of The Kings (Book 4) (23 page)

The Gladewatchers around her muttered curses of anger.

“Go, help them!” Izzy screamed at them. “Don’t worry about me!”

One Elf, spurred by her cry, thudded his heels into the ribs of his horse and took off. The rest stayed, refusing to abdicate their duty.

Many of the Falcon soldiers made it through the fighting mass and headed straight for the second line.

Izzy knew it was only a matter of time before that line fell, too. Her first instinct to run as Elon had instructed her to do slammed up hard against a powerful force deep in her body and splintered to pieces. All fear flew from her mind as her blood oath roared for the first time in her life.

During the Ellvinian invasion, Izzy never had to protect people. As the youngest of the
Savitar
children, it had always been others who had sheltered her.

Not today.

Today her blood oath would not be denied and it was stronger in her pureblood veins than in those of any other on the battlefield. Goose pimples raced up her arms. Every hair on her body stood straight up. Ancient magic coursed through her limbs.   

Izzy snarled as she watched the second line brace for the onslaught.

“Move!” Izzy kicked her horse through her guards and raced ahead through the camp followers. The guards and Quincy shouted as they sped after her.

When she finally broke free, she reined in her horse between the second line and the followers and waved her sword in the air. When the guards caught up to her, she said, “Make a third line!”

“But, Your Grace!”

“That is a royal command, Gladewatcher! We will defend these people or we will die trying!”

Rogan lifted a gauntleted fist, halting the Dwarves across from Morningstar’s rebel army. Earlier, he watched Airron’s hawk fly out over the battlefield but as of yet there had been no further sign of him. It didn’t bode well for his friend that the noble still lived.

A path widened in the host of soldiers as the proclaimed Queen of Iserlohn made her way to the front of the army sitting atop a golden Palomino horse. Right behind her, beneath a flag of black and white, rode Gage Gregaros, the proclaimed King.

Have they put aside their differences? Has one conceded leadership to the other?

“Lady Morningstar!” Rogan shouted. “As King of the Dwarves, I hereby call for your execution in the unlawful murder of the Princess of Deepstone!”

The woman had the nerve to smile contemptuously. One that said she was coming from a position of power.

Gage pressed his horse past her before she could speak. “King Rogan. My sincere sympathies for the death of your daughter. However, your call for execution is denied.”

Rogan growled bitterly. “Iserlohn finds the murder of a Dwarven Princess pardonable?”

“Whatever you allege happened—”

“Allege? I was there, Gregaros! I saw it happen.”

Gage gave Elinor a weighty look, but ultimately must have felt it in the best interests of his people to back her. “If a crime was committed, we will deal with it in the appropriate manner, not on a battlefield.”

“That wretched woman is the one that led us to this battlefield! Starting with the murders of three Kings! Or, is that, too, justifiable when it puts a crown on your head?”

“The Kings? Whatever are you talking about, Radek?”

Rogan pointed. “Ask the murderess behind you. She is the one working for the Mages who performed these vile acts.”

Gage whirled his horse around. “Elinor? Is this true?”

“Of course not,” she answered with a sneer and slid down from her golden horse. “I’m not working for the Mages. They’re working for
me
.”

A snarling rumble ran through the soldiers of House Gregaros. For the first time, Rogan noticed the people lining the wall surrounding Nysa. Not all were soldiers, and they did not look at all pleased.

Unaware—or uncaring—of these new witnesses, Lady Morningstar walked out in front of the army. “Yes, Gregaros, I did kill them. You have to take the King—or in this case, Kings—to win.”

“This is a game to you? Killing innocents to secure the Iserlohn Crown?” he questioned loudly for all to hear. Gage was clearly not unaware.

“Iserlohn? You really think my ambitions so petty? I don’t want Iserlohn! I want Massa!”

Rogan exploded in fury. “The Dwarves and Elves would never lie down and let you take their lands!”

“Oh, yes!” she screeched, spinning back to him. “Especially, when we rid them of their knights.” She gestured and two Falcons dragged Airron into the clearing.

Rogan dropped down from his horse in a panic. “What have you done?”

“The
Savitars
are now all that stand between me and the Crown of Massa.” She turned toward Gage. “And, a false King.”

Chaos erupted as two Falcons dragged Gage Gregaros from his horse.

“What are you doing?” the former Saber bellowed. “Elinor! Stop this!”

The soldiers forced him to his knees, yanked his head back by his hair and slit his throat from ear to ear.

Fire sprang to Rogan’s fingertips, but it was too late for Gregaros as the soldiers shoved him broken and bleeding to the ground. Fighting broke out between the Tigers, Falcons and Dragons.

Officers raced through the crowd spreading Elinor Morningstar’s dogma. “Gregaros was a false King! The Dwarves and Elves have declared war! You will fight for Iserlohn!”

“You’re just going to watch this, my King?” Teran growled, dismounting beside him.

Rogan glanced over at the Iron Fist who would have become his son in marriage had Jala lived. He didn’t look well. Grief, fury, bloodlust. It was all there in his eyes.
Just like mine.

“No, I’m not.” Rogan strode in front of his army. “Enough! It is me you want, Lady Morningstar! Come and kill me if you can!”

Elinor’s laugh could be heard over the struggling men. “It will be my pleasure, King of Dwarves.”

****

Airron groaned in agony. A spot right behind his ear throbbed like a gong pounding inside his head. Harsh voices added to the stabbing pain. He felt like he was going to vomit, but mercifully blacked out instead.

When he came to, he turned his head slowly to the left to try and focus on the dizzying smear that stood there.
The rebel army.
He cursed silently.
And, me, flat on my back.

The shouting grew louder. He recognized Gage’s voice. Demanding. Angry. The readying of metal. Then, Rogan asking Elinor Morningstar to kill him.
I just love it when a plan works out.

Lady Morningstar raised a gloved hand in the air and five soldiers stepped out in front of Rogan. Earthshifters and fireshifters by the look of them.

Airron ignored the pain that still jabbed at his brain and melted away inside his stolen clothes. Shouts of alarm rang out as he disappeared. They had thought him dead, and Airron silently thanked Beck for the trick that made them think so. It didn’t involve magic. Or holding one’s breath. He simply had to
look
dead. Amazingly easy to pull off, really.

His mouse form tunneled out from under the garments and scurried away across the field toward safety.

A loud
whoosh
warned of the ball of fire careening along the ground behind. The mouse jumped in fright and skirted out of the way.

On instinct, the bodyshifter beneath reached for his Grayan wolf but came up empty.
Damn you, Rogan!
Instead, he chose the Gangi dog for speed. The air flickered and his body expanded.

The rebel fireshifter threw more flames, but missed. The earthshifter didn’t. The Gangi yelped in pain as a rock slammed into its right side, sending it into a forceful roll. Two of its ribs snapped with an audible
crack
.

Then, Rogan was there, standing over him, protecting him and throwing fire at the shifters trying to kill him. Two of the men howled as they went up in flames and tried to smother the inferno scalding their bodies, but Airron knew there would be no putting out that fire.

“Thanks, Torch,” Airron mumbled and lurched to his feet. He shifted. Into the giant mantath this time.

Once again, fire and earth came hurtling forward in a barrage of destruction. Shifted magic slammed into the mantath’s thick hide, but this animal was able to shrug off the attack. The mantath lifted its long trunk to trumpet its rage before charging across the grass after the three shifters still alive. With a mighty sweep of its long snout, it connected with the fireshifter, sending him soaring through the air.

The two earthshifters sprinted in close with long spears and used their formidable strength to slip the metal in between the armored plates of the mantath and pierce the flesh beneath. The mantath roared in distress as the spears sliced skin and punctured organs. It tried to shake the weapons loose, but the unyielding shifters pinned it in place.

Airron’s shifting slipped from him and he collapsed to the ground. An alarmingly thick collection of blood pooled beneath him, but he couldn’t figure out how it got there. His vision blurred. A strange metallic taste filled his mouth. He tried to clear it away but couldn’t get the breath to do so.

Then, the earthshifters stabbed him again.

****

Rogan watched in horror as the spears thrust down into Airron’s body. Against orders, the Elves took to the field like flying white wraiths. Events slowed to a surreal pace for Rogan. How had this happened? He had come to Iserlohn, a place that held such fond memories, to hold a King’s Council and, yes, to seek justice for Erik, but he never imagined it would end like this. A race war. Beck and Kiernan missing. His daughter and grandchild dead. General Arsten dead. And, now Airron?

A bolt from a crossbow took Rogan in the shoulder and he spun to the ground with a pained grunt. The Fists closed in, a forbidding wall of Dwarven fury, screaming, shifting, taking more shafts meant for him.

Maybe they understood what he did. If Rogan died—perhaps even if he lived—Lady Morningstar had won. Neither the Dwarves nor the Elves would recover from the loss of their Kings and their
Savitars
in time to prevent a hostile takeover. Morningstar would take advantage of the chaos and uncertainty to invade the kingdoms and by the time anyone thought to put up resistance, it would be too late. That was why it hadn’t concerned her who overheard her confession. With wizards and two armies at her back, she had no plan to rule by winning the hearts of the people. She planned to rule by ripping them from their chests.

A violent wind sprang up out of nowhere. The Iron Fists surrounding him cried out in unison as they were knocked off their feet and flung away. Rogan sat up, pressing a hand to the bolt in his shoulder. A man stalked forward through the melee, hands sweeping, clearing his path of obstacles. Rogan focused his gaze.
Wait. I recognize him. How could I ever forget that block of a face?
There could be no doubt.
He’s the one. The Mage that killed Jala.

Wrath smoldered through Rogan’s chest like molten fire and danced at his fingertips. Rage flared in his eyes and scoured his heart. He screamed and threw his hand out to burn away the arrogant look on that rock of a face.

Only, nothing happened.

With a flick of the Mage’s wrist, the fire that hovered above Rogan’s palm was snuffed out.

He tried again to no avail.

His elemental magic may as well have been gone. The wizard stalked closer. Panic gripped Rogan. He struggled to his feet and reached for the short sword on his hip, but the Mage was there, slamming a fist into his jaw and sending him back down to the ground. A boot strike to the ribs curled Rogan into a ball.

“Prepare to die, King.” The Mage stretched out his hands to grab Rogan’s head.

No!

An odd sensation seized Rogan’s body.
The killing curse!
Wait. No.
A shield!
The reaching hands stopped short before they could make contact. The Mage’s head snapped up. A flicker of surprise crossed his features an instant before he disappeared from view.

Rogan fought to turn his head.

Two men in short black cloaks and with tattoos on their faces sprinted toward Rogan, cursing the fact that their prey had slipped through their fingers.

Before Rogan could speak to the
Dagarmon
, a sudden roar issued forth behind them. A roar so feral it made Rogan want to cover his ears.

The Dwarves.

In a great wave, they pounded forward in a mass of bodies to join with the Elves against the Land of Men. There would be no stopping that furious swell. Elinor Morningstar had achieved her race war after all.     

Another disastrous thought occurred to Rogan at the same time.
I’m about to be killed by my own people.