Beck tilted his head in question. “Any relation to Captain Colbie Nash of Nysa’s Scarlet Sabers?”
“Yes, sir, he is my brother.”
“He is fine man. It seems honor runs in your family.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Beck smiled. “Just Beck, Lieutenant.”
Kirby smiled back. “Just Kirby, sir.”
“Until Starfell then.”
Exhausted, Beck left the men and made his way to the Rusty Nail Inn with Bajan by his side. They moved from the Queen’s Lair a few weeks back when their grid search for Kiernan took them further west. He ran out of King Maximus’ coin early last week, but the innkeeper was grateful for all Beck and Bajan had done to protect the city and refused to accept any further compensation. It was just as well since he did not have any to give.
Bajan had developed a considerable amount of admiration from the citizens of Iserport, especially the children, but the Draca tolerated all of the attention without his usual pomposity. It had been more than a month now that Kiernan had vanished, and the toll on the Draca Cat was showing through on him as much as on Beck. Both had lost weight. Beck’s face was gaunt and stubbled from lack of shaving, and Bajan’s beautiful white coat had lost some of its natural luster. There was only a week remaining before Earthshine, which meant that the Island of Massa was going to have to battle Adrian Ravener, his Cyman Army, and his Demon Army, without aid of the weapon Galen Starr dispatched them to find.
He did not know what more he could do.
Suddenly, he thought of something he had been meaning to ask Bajan and looked over at him as they walked. “Bajan, how can you sense when the wraiths are near? Do you smell them?”
Bajan shook his head and then wiggled it back and forth like there was something inside his head, agitating him. “You sense them in your mind?” he asked, incredulously.
Bajan nodded and shivered, indicating that it was not a very pleasant experience.
“Beck! Over here!”
He turned. It was Gage, waving his arm to get his attention. “I am afraid I have bad news, Atlan.”
Every muscle in Beck’s body clenched. Please, no.
“I found out earlier today but did not have a chance to tell you. Airron was poisoned by a venomous spider in the Puu Rainforest on his way to Sarphia. To be truthful, I am not sure if he is even alive. The legionnaire that relayed the information to me was sent by Captain Nash to Haventhal to look for Bret Schwan. As you know, he never turned up back here in Iserport.”
“Did the soldier find Bret?”
“No. But, that is not all. In addition to the spider bite, Airron was severely beaten. When he was found, his ribs were broken, he had a fractured skull, and had lost quite a large amount of blood. The Elven healers did all they could for him.”
The news shook Beck and he turned from the Saber for a moment to compose his emotions. Was it a random act or did Ravener know somehow that Airron was Savitar?
Beck turned back around to Gage. “Rory?”
The Saber shook his head in regret. “Missing. And, I must leave at once for Starfell. The Iserlohn Army is only a few days from the Valley of Flame and will be ready to engage the enemy.”
“What of the Dwarves and Elves?” he asked.
Gage shrugged. “That’s the strange part. There are no reports that either army is on the move. With the Savitars out of commission as well, it appears as though the Iserlohn Army stands alone in this.”
Beck ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He despised himself for what he was about to say, but he had no choice. The time had come. “I will be leaving as well. First to Sarphia to meet up with Rogan and then on to Starfell.” Without all four pendants, Callyn-Rhe would continue to remain undiscovered and the power they needed buried within her depths, but he would still fight. As long as there was breath in his body, he would fight.
Gage nodded and gripped Beck’s upper arm in understanding.
Beck gave him a small smile of gratitude. “Thank you for all you did to try and help find Kiernan. I owe you a debt you have only to name.”
“No debt owed. She was my Princess.”
The Saber’s use of the past tense when referring to Kiernan was not missed by him.
“However,” said Gage, “there is this demented Mage I would like to have help in killing.”
Beck nodded with bloodlust in his eyes. “My pleasure.”
Chapter 24
DESCENT INTO DARKNESS
Preoccupied with thoughts of the upcoming battle, Beck strode into his room at the Rusty Nail. Bajan went off to hunt before their voyage tomorrow, as it was uncertain when he would have a chance to do so again. Rumor of the invasion spreading quickly throughout Iserport made it a simple matter for Gage to convince one of the ferrymen to transport them to Havenport. From there, the Saber would continue on the Illian River to Starfell, and Beck and Bajan would travel through the villages of Haventhal to Sarphia.
Beck turned to the small basin by his bed and splashed his face with water. He leaned on the rim with both hands, unable to move for a moment as he contemplated his departure and all that meant.
He was leaving Kiernan behind.
Leaving her in the hands of a fate only the Highworld knew. He tried to convince himself that he would be back, but he knew that was not true. With Iserlohn standing alone, the Massans had very little chance of success in this war. Sighing in frustration, he suddenly froze at the shuffle of feet behind him and yelped in pain as an assailant stabbed him in the lower back. He spun around with a growl, magic igniting within his body. Standing in front of him with a spear in one hand and the other covering his eyes in dismay, was the Halfie Tribe Leader, Vinni Vee. He was dressed as one of the orphaned children who haunted the streets of Iserport.
“Pardon, Savitar!” he squealed. “You know it is in my nature to be wicked. Please forgive me!”
Beck reached behind his back and his hand came away with blood. “Hell, Vinni, did you have to stab me? What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I am here once again to give you valuable information, Savitar,” he said, shaking his blonde curls. “Honestly, I do not know how you manage without me.”
Beck retrieved a cloth from the side of the basin and reached around his back to hold it against the small wound. “Help that is a little less painful would be appreciated.”
Vinni stuck his tongue out at him, and it mystified Beck how Vinni’s impish behavior was so instinctive. The little Halfie did not seem to be aware of what he was doing until the vicious act was complete. And, sometimes, not even then. He just did what came natural and, unfortunately, that meant being ill-behaved.
“I came to tell you that the Princess of Iserlohn is going to be kidnapped!” Vinni’s apple-cheeked face screwed up in agitation and he hopped from foot to foot.
Beck was staggered. Maybe there was more to the Halfie’s foretelling abilities than he previously gave credit. “I know, Vinni…”
“The Gems will have taken her,” he declared.
Beck looked at the pint-sized terror quizzically. “The Gems?”
“Yes, the Gems, Savitar! The witches who live in Elloree! Goodness, you are a little slow for a Savitar.”
Beck’s heart soared at the news. This was his first solid—even if it was written in the clouds—clue to Kiernan’s whereabouts. Impulsively, he reached out and hugged the little Tribe Leader. “Thank you, Vinni! You do not know how much you have helped me. May the Highworld be with you, my friend!”
Vinni cocked his head at the show of emotion from Beck and tentatively returned the hug. “You know, Savitar, this feels kind of pleasant. Does it always feel like this to…to show kindness?”
He nodded. “Yes, Vinni, it does.”
“Hmmrf. Something to think about.” Vinni released him and headed for door. “Good-bye, Savitar.”
Beck held out his hands in question. “What? No kick in the stomach or another stab in the back?”
Vinn
i turned around slowly, his face pensive. “Not this time, Savitar. Not this time.” The Halfie lowered his head with a shake and walked out the door.
Rogan lay unmoving in the corner of his cell. He lost track of how many weeks he had been confined to King Rik Rojin’s cells. It really did not matter. He was never going to be freed. His friends would never know where to find him and, even if they came searching, the King would only mislead them with untruths.
He wondered if Beck found Kiernan. Were they in Sarphia now? With Airron? When he did not show up in Sarphia with his pendant, what would they do? Without a counter to Adrian Ravener’s magic, the Mage would have free reign to kill all who stood in opposition and enslave those who did not.
It was hard not to feel guilty, as the reason for his current predicament fell squarely on his shoulders. He was the one who sauntered directly into Deepstone without any consideration of how the people would feel about having a shifter in their midst. For all they knew, he was a fugitive from exile. As a group with Beck, Kiernan and Airron, and along with King Maximus’ Decree of Purpose, they had a chance of succeeding. Rogan, traveling alone, as it was now painfully clear, was a huge lapse in judgment, and it was his idea to split up. With Kiernan missing, Beck was in no condition to see things reasonably. Centering his argument conveniently on the need for his pendent, Rogan’s real intent, he finally admitted to himself, was to find out more about his lineage. To find his family.
A family that no longer existed in this world.
That was not entirely true. He still had an uncle, albeit one who wanted to secure a heavy weight around his neck and throw him into the Koda River.
He sat up from the stone floor and leaned against the wall. The only other item in the tiny cell was a bucket of his urine and a tray of bread and cheese the guards had left earlier, and it sat untouched near the door. He was not hungry. He realized he was growing weak by not eating and moving about, but he could not find it in himself to care, the guilt eating away at his will.
He flinched at a squeak coming from the shadowed corner of the cell that signified the arrival of one of the many rats that shared his dwelling and nipped at him while he slept. His fingers were raw and bloodied from their nighttime attacks, and he watched idly as the large rodent made its way over to his tray of food.
He can have it, he thought, and laid back down, turning his back to the rat and his meal.
Sometime later, he jerked awake simultaneously by a rat chomping down harshly on this thumb and the sound of a key being inserted into the door of his cell. He batted the rat across the room and it smashed into the opposite wall with a thud. Peering into the dark at the two figures bent over the lock, he squatted onto the balls of his feet preparing to defend himself. Because of the guards’ wariness of his magic, it was out of character for them to get this close to his cell. Usually, they just slid his tray of food under the iron bars with a long pole, well out of sight.
As soon as the door was unlocked, two Dwarves slipped furtively inside.
“What do you want?” he asked roughly.
“Rogan, it’s me, Dillon.”
Rogan relaxed his defensive stance and stood. “Dillon? What are you doing here?”
A sarcastic feminine voice answered. “Saving your hide, obviously.”
Dillon threw Rogan’s pack to him, which he caught and quickly hefted over his shoulder. “Come on, we have to leave before someone notices that the guard upstairs with his head on the table is not taking a nap.”
Rogan stared at the duo questioningly. “Did you kill him?”
“No,” replied Dillon, then asked with curiosity, “Would it matter?”
Rogan nodded. “To me it would. The guard is not guilty of any crime, and my blood oath prevents me from harming or condoning the harm of innocent people. Especially on my behalf.”
The girl snorted. “How noble. Can we discuss after we get out of here?” she said, looking anxiously back toward the stairs. She had long, auburn hair that hung casually around her shoulders, out of place with her austere soldier’s tunic.
Dillon nodded. “Rogan, this is Janin, a soldier in the Deepstone Army and, Highworld help me, my best friend and the only reason she is here breaking every Dwarven law in existence.”
Janin turned and shook her head at Dillon playfully. “Not the only reason. I happen to think King Rik is being a blunderhead and that we need to get this man out of here. Unlike the King, who appears to harbor prejudice on this subject, I can see reason. Let me see. Either we get him out of here or we end up enslaved by a fanatical Mage.” She went to the cell door. “I always was a fan of logic.”
Janin hurried out and led the way up the stairs with Rogan and Dillon close behind. Both of the Dwarves held long knives in their hands. Rogan hoped, for their sakes, it would not come to a confrontation. He did not want them to be hurt trying to save him.
At the top of the stairs, Rogan saw the guard with his head face down on his arms. He did appear to be sleeping and, hopefully, that would buy them some time.
He quickly grabbed his belt and dagger hanging from a peg behind the guard, and then they sprinted out of the room and down a stone passageway, moving fast. Whenever they heard voices, Janin directed them into a shadowed alcove until the way was clear. After several long moments of running, they arrived at an exterior door, pushed their way out into the night, and snaked along the perimeter of the castle. Rogan breathed in the fresh night air greedily. It was sheer ecstasy after having been closeted underground for so long. His legs, unused to movement, were trembling with the exertion, and it was adrenaline alone that was keeping him upright and running after Janin and Dillon.
Janin turned to him. “Do you have a cloak?”
He grabbed his pack and was relieved to find his cloak still inside. He nodded.
“Put it on.” She pointed. “We are going to be walking through that stone passageway ahead in sight of the night guards who will be on top of the wall above us. Whatever you do, do not run. Walk steady. Our uniforms will be visible so we should not arouse any suspicion.”
Rogan nodded and quickly donned his cloak.
“Do not put up the hood, it will look suspicious. Follow closely.”
Reluctantly, the three forced themselves away from the safety of the shadows and entered the stone passageway. Like the cities of Deeport and Kondor, the entire royal grounds was a complex network of stone. Stone passageways, walls, and stairs. As they walked, Dillon turned and waved to the guard on the wall. Rogan did not dare look back to see if the guard acknowledged the wave. At least, he thought thankfully, he did not hear any alarm.
It took every bit of willpower he possessed not to sprint for the streets and courtyard gate beyond. Imprisonment was not a fate he ever wished to revisit. He would burn this place to the ground—if only stone would burn—before he would allow them to put him back into that cell.
They rounded a corner and Janin guided them briskly to a door that led back into the castle. Rogan grabbed her arm. “Why are we going back in?” he hissed, not able to keep a touch of desperation out of his voice.
She stopped and looked at him and then at his hand on her arm. “Unless you are prepared to use magic, get your hand off me or I will slice it off.”
Rogan looked at her with wild eyes and then released her.
“In answer to your question, it is the safest and quickest route. There are tunnels in the castle that will take us underground and outside of the city wall.”
He hesitated a moment, sweat beading his brow. It took all of his courage to say, “Fine, I will follow.”
The three Dwarves pushed their way back into the pitch-blackness of the palace.
“Dillon, where is the torch?” asked Janin, and Rogan could hear her fumbling around.
Dillon sounded panicked. “I left one right here and it is gone!”
Now that his eyes were adjusting to the gloom, Rogan could see the outline of the two Dwarves feeling around in the dark for the torch. He calle
d forth a flame of light. “Does this help?”
They both looked up at him with a gasp, a mixture of both surprise and anger on their faces. “Do not do that!” snarled Janin.
Shaking his head in confusion, Rogan said, “We need light, do we not? This is light.”
“It is light created from magic which, in case you have not heard, is outlawed on this island,” retorted Dillon.
“Yes, well, the world has changed, Dillon. The Magical Kingdom of Pyraan has been destroyed, we are under threat of slavery at best and annihilation at worse by a rogue Mage, and we are running for our lives from a King who wants to murder me. Against that, you are worried about a flame to light our way?”
“Good point,” murmured Dillon with a shrug.
Rogan turned away from them in frustration. “I do not understand this fear of magic. Please tell me so I understand!”
Dillon shuffled his feet, at a loss as to how to answer his question. Janin had no such qualms. “Have you forgotten that you were exiled in Pyraan for a reason, shifter? Did they not teach you anything about the legacy of magic use?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, and the legacy of magic before three evil Mages decided to destroy the world was inspiring. Magic was used to heal the dying, to create cures for the sick, to defend the weak. Does having magic automatically make you an evil person? If a Dwarf kills another, does it make all Dwarves murderers? If a dog bites a child, does it mean all dogs bite people?” He shook his head in frustration. “You cannot confine the legacy of magic to the Mage War, you just cannot.”
Janin gazed at him with a look he could not identify. “No, and I will admit that there are valuable uses to magic. But, there is also the ability to cause great harm on a very large scale. If one Dwarf kills another, it is one person. If a dog bites a child, it is one child. If an evil Mage decides to use magic for sinister purpose, he can destroy the world. That, my friend, is why we are afraid.”
Rogan shook his head. “The shifters would never let that happen again. And, if we are fortunate enough to defeat Ravener, he will be the last of the Mages. So,” he continued impatiently, “should I plunge us back into darkness so you can continue to stumble around looking for a torch and flint or should we be on our way?”
Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood Page 28
