Island Shifters: Book 02 - An Oath of the Mage (14 page)

Davad nodded in agreement. The King could not hold out for very long. “We will be waiting when he does.”

In the library of the royal palace where they were seated around a table, Ava Conry glared up from an intense study of her fingernails. “Until then?”

Davad ignored her and strode to the library door to reassure himself that the two Eagles were still posted outside. The room had two exits, and he insisted that both be defended exclusively by legionnaires of his House. His paranoia of an assassin’s arrow was increasing every day.

After spotting the soldiers, Davad turned from the door and began to pace. His mind was racing frantically and it helped to sort through the jumble of his thoughts if he was moving. For the past few days, he had been finding it difficult to think straight. Was he ill? With a mental shrug, he turned his concentration to the conversation before him. Abram was talking about Hugo Bassus.

“Bassus is still several days from Nysa. Our main concern until he arrives is Lord Gregaros. He is a former Scarlet Saber and it disturbs me greatly that he is missing. Where is he? What is he planning?”

The only other person in the room, Commander Mendel, spoke up. “He is most likely in Bardot awaiting Princess Kiernan’s return with Captain Nash. We could send a unit there to engage and dispose of him.”

Davad quickly shook his head. “To invade Bardot would only invite the magic users to get involved. We do not want to give them any reason to enter this fight.”

“It may be that Gregaros is simply sitting it out and waiting for a victor to emerge,” Mendel offered.

“That would be ideal, but I don’t think we can count on that. What we need is information.”

“So, send a man in a Lion tunic to Bardot to see if Gregaros is there,” Abram suggested. “Soldiers talk. If he listens in at the right places, he will be able to uncover what Gregaros is up to.”

Davad stopped his frenzied pacing, Abram’s sensible words soothing his anxiety. He glared at Ava. “Well, at least Abram is contributing some common sense to this enterprise. Well done,

Abram. Commander, arrange for a man to go into Bardot immediately.”

“As you command, my Lord.”

“Are the town criers delivering the messages we discussed?” Davad asked.

Commander Mendel nodded. “By now every person in Nysa will have learned of the King’s misdeeds and his cowardly refusal to come out and defend his city.”

Davad returned to the table and sat again, calm for the first time all day. “And, what about you, Lady Conry? Do you have any useful ideas to share with the group or are you going to sit there like a lump?”

Ava Conry glowered at him and stood, all eyes on the large breasts that threatened to tumble from her dress. “I have had enough of your tiresome plotting and posturing, Davad. Abram may have the patience to sit here and hold your hand all day, but I do not!” Her voice took on a piercing timbre. “There is only one thing I am concerned about! When in the Highworld am I going to be Queen?”

The hackles on the Gangi dog lifted in a wild desire to kill, and he tore back down the stone road toward the scent of the rabid mountain lion.

As soon as he skidded around a small bend, he saw the Elven woman crouched behind a boulder and gripping a large knife in her outstretched fist. The lion paced directly in front of the rock and issued a menacing roar in an attempt to intimidate her prey. The Elven girl made a sudden movement and the lion reacted, clenching her hind legs and leaping into the air to scale the boulder.

The Gangi jumped at the same time and transformed into one of the deadly black wolves that lived in the Grayan Forest. The two animals collided in midair and the wolf clamped his jaws onto the neck of the unsuspecting cat. They tumbled to the ground in a fury of growls and muscled ferocity. The wolf bit down with razor-sharp fangs and ripped away a portion of flesh, delicious hot blood spewing from the wound. The lion yelped in pain and tried to rake him with her claws, but he was too big for her, too maddened in his need to protect. There was something wrong about this particular foe, he knew. She was filled with sickness and must be destroyed.

Suddenly, the Elven girl was by his side and she plunged her knife into the chest of the mountain lion. His quarry trembled violently taking her last dying breath and then was still. The wolf got to his feet, angry that the kill had been taken from him. He snorted once, shook out his black coat and then padded away.

The air flickered and Airron bodyshifted into his Elven form, grateful he could think like a human again. He did not want to be consumed with unfulfilled bloodlust any longer. It was painful. Through his magic, he always had complete control of the action of the form he assumed, but the instincts and perspective always came directly from the animal.

He dressed quickly and went to see how Melania was faring. The first thing he noticed was how pale her face appeared.

“Well, that is not something you see every day. If ever,” she observed.

“Did I scare you?”

She hesitated, but then shook her head. “No, not really. I am just grateful that you saved my life.
Sinsai
.” Thank you.

Airron tilted his head in question. “Why did you not just command the beast and turn her away?”

“I tried, but it didn’t work. She was rabid. Diseased in the mind. That was why I killed her. I never would have done so had she not been so dangerous to leave in her present condition. It goes against my nature to harm an animal.”

“I sensed the disease in her as well.”

“Can we continue on?” she asked suddenly. “The faster you find your friend, the faster I can get out of this blasted heat and we can return to our lives in Haventhal.”

Her comment raised questions in his mind. “It seems strange that we are married, when we hardly know each other. Will you be moving into my residence in Sarphia? We really have not had much of a chance to make these decisions since the…the ceremony.”

“Of course, I will live with you. But, I will tell you now that I will not tolerate any man who makes a mess of his home. You will take care of your own things as I refuse to cater to you. And, you will dress properly as befitting your station as a royal-in-waiting. That tunic you are wearing is far too plain. I will personally see to your wardrobe.” She paused but she was not finished yet. The hands had found the hips. “Lastly, Airron Falewir, and on this I will not bend. There will be no carousing with other women! Do you hear me?”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Was I not perfectly clear?”

“You wish for me to stop seeing other women, yet we have never shared a marriage bed,” he pointed out bluntly.

The tips of her ears peeking up through her silver hair turned bright red. “No, we have not. Yet.”

“And, when will…?”

“When I am good and ready! That is when!” She grabbed the reins of her Pinto and led, no, dragged, the poor animal back onto the road. Obviously, the conversation was over.

With a shake of his head, he wondered if Beck and Rogan ever found marriage this difficult.

Rogan propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at his sleeping wife, feeling so fortunate to have her and the children in his life. Growing up an orphan, he longed for a family to call his own his entire life. Now that his dream had become a reality, he could not imagine ever living without them. It made him shudder when he thought back to all of those years in exile and feeling unloved and abandoned by the people who were supposed to care for him the most—his parents. He found out later that all he had believed to be true had been a misconception and that his parents had in fact given their very lives protecting him. The knowledge was life changing and allowed him to open his heart to Janin.

She must have felt his weighty stare because she came awake with a small smile.

“Good morning, Kal Rogan,” she murmured.

Rogan reached out to remove a twig from her hair. After leaving Kondor three days ago, they had traveled at a very quick pace through Haventhal and were now camped just south of the Elven port of Havenport.

“Good morning, Kali,” he replied lovingly. “I must admit that I had envisioned our first few evenings of marital bliss many times since the day I asked you to marry me, but I can honestly say that they never included us spending them out in the elements, lying on the ground and sharing a bedroll.”

She turned into his body and wrapped her arms around his waist. “If you will remember, my husband, this is not the first time we have skulked together through the woods of Haventhal.”

He smirked at the reminder. “Yes, trouble was chasing us then and appears to have found us again. Good thing, too, because I was beginning to get a little bored,” he teased.

She punched him in the arm. “We do not need this kind of excitement in our lives, Kal Rogan!” She sat up and ran her fingers through her long hair. “Now, tell me, where do we find this army of yours?”

He got to his feet and reached into his bag to prepare a quick meal of hard beef, cheese and fruit. “Oh, it has already found
us
.”

Janin stood at once and glanced around the wooded area surrounding their small campsite. “What? Where?”

Rogan handed her a pear, but she ignored it and buckled on her sword belt.

He shrugged and took a bite of the fruit. “We are surrounded.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the rustle of feet moving through the trees broke the early morning silence of the forest. Rogan noticed Janin reach for the short sword on her hip, but he took hold of her wrist and stopped her. “No.”

She directed an icy glare his way, but to his relief she did remove her hand. Albeit slowly.

“Hello, rude Dwarf,” said a high-pitched voice from the woods and a pint-sized warrior came into view surrounded by a band of armed fighters. Blonde curls bouncing around his angelic face, Rogan recognized Vinni Vee, the Tribe Leader and Cloud Reader of the Halfies.

During the Demon War, the Balor Mountains where the Halfies made their home were lost. Since then, the thousand or so Halfies on the island roamed from one location to the next searching for a suitable place to live. It was really quite a nuisance to Massans everywhere because of their bad behavior, a characteristic they could not alter any more than the color of their eyes. Trouble making was an inborn trait of the Halfie race.

Rogan recognized that it was also what made them a formidable force in the Demon War. Despite their small size—most Halfie males stood around four feet tall—the damage they inflicted on the invading Cyman Army was considerable. Although, they were unable to kill the enemy with their tactics, they were able to render terrible debilitating injuries, and there were many a Cyman today who walked with a limp caused by the Halfies in battle.

Rogan vowed to try and find a permanent home for the Halfies when this new threat was behind him. The imps deserved to have a home to call their own, and it would eliminate the terrible mischief they caused across the island.

Rogan feigned indignation. “Come now, Vinni! I was not rude to you. Well, maybe just a little bit, but if you will recall, I was under a great deal of pressure the last time we met.”

“True,” Vinni replied, “but, I still do not like you very much.”

“That hurts, Vinni.”

“So will my spear up your…”

“Come on! I need your help here. I would not have come all this way looking for you if it was not important.”