Island Shifters: Book 02 - An Oath of the Mage (22 page)

The bitter cold woke Kenley from her exhausted sleep. Her breathing created misty clouds of vapor to form in front of her mouth, so she snuggled closer against the warm body of Baya. Arriving at Nysa in the middle of the night, they were forced to sleep outside in the Grayan Forest because of the darkness.

She would have been really scared of all the noises in the woods if not for Baya.

Good morning,
she breathed into her living fur blanket.

Good morning, Princess.

She sat up.
Baya! That was so much fun last night! Riding you is much more fun than riding a horse.

Hrmmf
, the Draca snorted.
Do not get used to it, little one. The offer was made due to an urgent situation. You will not be putting that saddle on me to ride for pleasure.

Kenley giggled.
I won’t. It was fun, though.
She got to her feet and brushed the dirt from her tunic.
Come on. First thing I am going to do when we get to the palace is sneak into the kitchens and get some honeycakes!

For me, too?

Of course.

Kenley crept along the forest edge but kept a close eye on the granite wall that surrounded the city fifty paces away. There were no soldiers in sight, and she thought that was odd. Captain Bo Franck would be very upset if he knew that the guards were not on watch.

Moving silently ahead, it did not take them long to reach the cliff that rimed the Arounda Ocean and served as the western border of the city. Waves crashed loudly against the rocks on the other side and the smell of salt hung heavy in the air.

Kenley shook her hands to warm her frozen fingers. She would be glad when she finally reached the palace and not just for the heat. She missed her Maman. She tried not to think about her too much or she would cry, but if her Maman was in trouble, Kenley wanted to help her. She did not worry about her Daddy that much. He was so strong and powerful that nobody could harm him. And, Uncle Airron was helping him.

There was no one to help her Maman.

She wiped a tear that fell from her eye. It would be up to her and Baya, and she would be brave like her Maman and not let her down. Taking a deep breath, she sniffled one last time and then looked over her shoulder at her best friend.
Ready?

Baya nodded once and together they sprinted the distance between the forest and the curtain wall. Where the wall butted up against the cliff was a small gap she had discovered a few months back.

I don’t think you will fit anymore, Baya!

Baya nudged her aside to inspect the opening.
It will be tight, but I think I can.

Follow me closely. We must not be discovered before it is time.

When do we go to battle, little one?

When we hear the fireworks.

The light of burning supply wagons lit the early morning and the smoke created a gray haze that hung low in the air. Rogan, with

Janin still on his shoulders and under the legionnaire-issue cloak of

House Etin, carefully picked his way through the bedlam that was the Iserlohn Army. Disorder reigned throughout the encampment.

Animals ran loose, men groaned, and officers yelled at their disoriented troops to line up in formation. The Halfies had performed their jobs well, and the legionnaires still had no idea who or what had caused the repeated attacks during the night.

And, now, the stain of another army on the horizon bearing down on the beleaguered camp.

So far, the disguise he and Janin wore was working, but they had been traveling mostly among the civilians. Now, they were making their way to the front lines to identify the Houses of the advancing army.

“Stop, there!” The angry shout directed their way caused Rogan to turn. Through a gap in the cloak, he saw an officer of House Etin rushing toward them.

He hoped Janin had her cowl pulled closely around her head as it would not be unusual to be cloaked in the stinging cold of the morning.

“What are you doing?” the man screamed. “Out for a causal morning stroll, legionnaire?”

Janin must have shaken her head.

“Can’t you see what is happening? Get into formation or so help me I will kill you!” The officer was inches from Janin’s face. “Do you hear me?”

Rogan’s fingers twitched toward the short sword on his hip, not sure if his volatile wife could hold it together. If she could not, and the officer tried to harm her, he would find himself with one less hand.

But, she simply nodded, and pressed her left heel into his ribs to guide his movements to the left. Needing no further prodding, he took off at a run, slowing only when he was sure that the officer had been left far behind. Melting back into the throng of soldiers once again, he realized with tremendous satisfaction that he had done all of this without a single grunt.

Close to the front line now, he searched out the banners flying at the head of the approaching Legion. His eyes slid over the sigils of House Everard and House Gregaros. He could not imagine that Gage Gregaros would ever turn on the Everard family, but he could not rest on that assumption. Especially, since he was already surrounded by legionnaires in the scarlet and black of House Everard.

During his traipse through the army over the course of the night, he learned that many of the Everard soldiers and even several from House Etin were uneasy about this conflict and were on the verge of abandoning their duty and running. Blindly following the orders of superiors during war with an enemy was one thing, they said, but to march against the King they had sworn to protect? It was not sitting well with many of them. In fact, Rogan had heard talk that some of the legionnaires had already defected back to Iserport in the middle of the night.

The lines were becoming more ordered as Rogan progressed toward the vanguard. He was among the Calvary now, their warhorses stamping and snorting malcontent at their stationary stance. A dangerous place to be, but he had to know the intentions of Gregaros.

A few Cavalrymen glanced down at them in uncertainty, but most had their eyes directed upward at the threat looming closer.

Janin gave him an urging kick, so he strode faster to the very front of the line. Warily, he stepped out of the column to provide him and Janin a view down the long row of horses. Commander Hugo Bassus sat tall astride a barrel-chested Haventi, a hauberk covering his red and black tunic. He had dark imposing eyes similar to King Maximus, but his shoulder length hair had turned mostly gray. His weathered features were expressionless as he studied the army before him.

Across the plains, Gage Gregaros, the wiry, gray haired Lord who was once a Scarlet Saber, rode at the head of his procession, standing upright in the stirrups with a range finder held to his eye. All was quiet as the army advanced and even when Gage halted his men several hundred paces from Bassus’ line. Running his horse along the column, Gage chose a small parley group of six men who then peeled away from the line and joined the Lord in his approach toward the waiting army.

To Rogan’s surprise, and probably Gage’s surprise as well, Hugo Bassus made no move to receive the parley.

That was Rogan’s cue to begin moving out of the way. Bassus’ actions were a clear indication that he had no intention of accepting any form of truce that may be offered and meant to fight through Gregaros. At least, Rogan thought with relief, it did confirm that he and Gage were still fighting on the same side.

Rogan quickly threaded through the horses, responding to the touches of Janin’s heels and his own sight through the cloak to navigate the sea of muscular, restless animals.

Gage pulled his party up short. “In the name of King Maximus, you are charged with treason to the Crown, Hugo Bassus! Stand down or you will be cut down!”

“To the Netherworld with King Maximus!” laughed Bassus. “The reign of Everard is over! Iserlohn needs a new leader and preferably one who cannot have us burnt to a crisp at a whim.”

It was Gage’s turn to laugh derisively. “And, you think Etin is the man? Come now, Hugo. I have known you for too many years to believe that.”

“He is the man for now,” Bassus admitted. “Who knows what opportunities may open up in a year or two.”

“I don’t want to kill you, Hugo. Stand down.”

“Join with us then, Gage! You will be entitled to keep your lands and title, I can assure you of that. Bend your knee to House Etin!”

“Etin does not have a legitimate claim to the throne!”

“Etin means to be King, Gage, and if he must inherit a broken crown in doing so, so be it.”

“That is precisely why I cannot support him! He has no idea what it takes to be King! The people will never love him.”

“You fool! It is obedience he commands, not love!”

The naked fury on Gage’s face was unmistakable. “For the sake of our friendship, I ask one more time for your sword!”

“You may ask, but you will not receive!”

“Then, I will take your head instead!” Gage and his legionnaires wheeled their mounts around and headed back toward their line to regroup.

Bassus, abandoning all of the rules of parley, thrust his sword in the air and kicked his Haventi forward before Gregaros was halfway back to his men. “Charge!”

Beck yanked harshly at the chains holding his arms and legs pinned to the cavern wall with a snarl. The manacles did not budge, and all he managed to do was cause the metal to cut deeper into his skin. Avalon already told him that his bonds were infused with magic, but he kept trying anyway, hoping brute strength would somehow prevail.

Early on, he realized that his earthshifting would be of little use to him with the lack of loose stone or earth within range. He could probably try to bring the mountain down on top of all of their heads—he had brought down a mountain once before—but that would only serve to kill him in the process. There may come a time when it became necessary, but it had not yet arrived.

His face was still bruised and swollen from the beating Avalon had given him on the way to Farout Falls, but he was healing. One thought held him together. Airron was coming, and he was pinning all of his hopes on his friend.

This remote location that Avalon called Farout Falls was devoid of all people. They traveled unseen for leagues to this hideaway of hers, hewn from the southern cliffs of Deepstone. He was so physically spent by the time they arrived that two Cymans had to carry him up rough stairs that ascended the cliff face seventy or more spans to the cave entrance above.

Once inside, he was surprised to find the interior comfortable and inviting. Avalon managed to fashion a home out of the massive cavern by using the natural pillared formations to create separate rooms. Colorful tapestries and carpets adorned the walls and floors, and heavy, ornate furniture of mahogany covered in richly decorated brocades and silks lent a distinctly feminine touch to the starkness of the stone. Dancing yellow flames in copper braziers created soft light and provided a source of heat to take the chill from the air.

A low, whistling sound roused him from his thoughts and he looked up as the tip of a black leather whip narrowly missed his face and bit into his shoulder with a loud snap. Beck cried out in shock and excruciating pain.

“The Mistress ‘as ordered five lashes of the whip for your deception,” the Cyman guard said sorrowfully. “Just ‘old still and it will be over soon.”