The Elves turned toward their King, waiting with murder in their eyes for the signal to attack. But, the astute Jerund wouldn’t give the signal, and that was something Adrian was counting on. He needed to frustrate the Gladewatchers—to infuriate and shame the Elven males into pursuing reckless action. He needed to provoke his biggest threat to their demise.
The powerfully built demon lifted the young girl by her long, white hair and struck her across the mouth.
The night air rang as hundreds of swords sprang from scabbards. The King’s harried hand signals and attempts to communicate with the Gladewatchers were beginning to fail.
Adrian threw up a spell of protection around him and his sister and their horses as the demon stood over the young female. The beast lifted its horned head in a deafening howl and, in a flash of movement, leaned down and ripped off the girl’s leggings. The demon shoved her back to the ground, lifted what was left of her tunic, and plunged a clawed hand up inside her body, violating her in a most inconceivable manner.
The girl screamed in pitiful agony, her back arching off the ground. The demon used his other hand to tear away the rest of the material at the girl’s chest and ran a forked tongue over her small, exposed breasts.
Inaction was no longer even a remote possibility.
The Elven Gladewatchers roared in a maddened desire to kill and kicked their horses into motion covering the space between the armies in a blaze of white, smashing into the demons that had now stepped out to meet them. The front line of Iserlohn entered the chaotic foray as well, and Maximus’s vassals were almost trampled in the violent surge.
The thunderous impact of flesh was staggering. Men and horses screamed. The Kings tried in vain to recall the formations of their units.
“Adrian!”
He turned at his sister’s warning shout. One of the Gladewatchers had managed to get past the demons and sprinted at him with a confident smirk. The Elf took a running leap and struck out viciously with his sword, but it bounced harmlessly off the magical shield Adrian had created.
Surprised and off-balance, the Elf hit the ground hard and cried out as he was buried under a swathe of demons.
It had taken less than an hour for the deadly skirmish to accomplish Adrian’s goals and it was now nearly finished. A river of red burgeoned under the feet of the combatants. Over the vociferous battle sounds, Adrian heard the aggrieved King Jerund wail in disbelief. The demons had destroyed the Elven Gladewatchers to a man. The revered protectors of Haventhal were no more.
A significant number of Iserlohn soldiers continued the attack, but content that all had gone according to plan, Adrian turned his horse to return to Starfell Keep.
Let them fight it out, he thought. If there was anyone left alive tomorrow, he would accept their surrender then.
***
Beck fastened the last vine around the litter with a grunt. Satisfied it would hold, he walked over to Kiernan, knelt by her side and placed his palm on her forehead. She wasn’t feverous, but still breathing very shallowly. Other than the splint he had fastened to her broken arm, there was nothing more he could do for her.
Frustration raged through him. He suspected that the snake’s compression had collapsed one of her lungs and if that was the case, she needed proper care from a healer at once or she would die. But, where was he to find one in the middle of a bloody rainforest?
He looked down at her pale face and gently brushed a damp, blonde tress from her cheek, his fingers trembling with worry and fatigue. He pressed his lips to her temple. “Please hold on, Kiernan,” he whispered. “I’ll find the help you need, I promise. But, you have to hold on. For me.” He took another moment in the solace of her scent and then lifted her small frame onto the litter, tucking his cloak securely around both sides of her body.
He stepped in between the roped vines and wound them around his shoulders in a makeshift harness to pull the stretcher.
“Are you ready?” Airron asked, already tethered to the litter that would carry Rogan. Beck looked over at his friend. The tight-lipped grimace and eyes shadowed with exhaustion were a dismal caricature of a face usually creased in a smile. What happened to him? What happened to all of us? Did Galen Starr really believe we had a chance or were we the only chance he had available to him?
He nodded to Airron, and they began to trot east down the beach with their burdens, Bajan loping unsteadily behind them. Kiernan’s health appeared to be having an analogous effect on the Draca.
He took another reading of the compass as they ran, and frowned as he realized it was leading them back into the Puu. Even with his earthshifting, it would be difficult to maneuver the litters over the dense forest floor. Still, they had no other choice, so they plunged inside the jungle and were forced to stop several times to untangle the wooden slats from the vegetation on the ground. Even more frustrating was the lack of any real indicator of how much longer it would take to get to their destination.
“How much farther can it be?” Airron asked after several hours of grueling travel. “I’ve smelled the salt of the Arounda in the air for leagues now, yet it remains unseen. We should have run out of forest by now!”
Beck nodded wearily. He knew Airron looked to him for hopeful words, but he simply didn’t have any left to give. It was getting harder and harder to run. Every muscle in his body ached and begged for respite. His head throbbed with concern for Kiernan, Rogan and all of the Massan soldiers now undoubtedly in battle. He despaired over ever making it to the Valley of Flame in time to make a difference; despaired over the possibility that they might never find Callyn-Rhe or the weapon they needed. Airron must have been thinking the same, and Beck longed to give his friend the encouragement they both needed to hear, but he couldn’t find the energy to do so. “We just have to keep moving,” was all he said.
And, they did.
Neither Rogan nor Kiernan awakened during the trek. In fact, the last time he looked, Kiernan’s skin had begun to take on a pasty yellow cast.
Running league after league through the darkened trees, the vines cutting painfully into his shoulders, Beck began to see threats in every shadow. Every flutter of a leaf was a snake about to drop down on him. Every rustle of noise, a demon about to rake him with its claws. The threat that eventually did appear before them seemed so harmless at first that he didn’t respond fast enough.
Two black shapes appeared overhead swinging innocuously from tree to tree, shadowing them. Yet, the farther they ran into the forest, the more the shapes began to shriek in protest at the invasion of their territory. And, for some reason, their agitation seemed to be directed more at Bajan than the two men towing the litters.
Beck tried to ignore them. Just a couple of jungle apes frolicking through the trees. They’ll lose interest soon.
“Get lost!” Airron shouted, waving his arms weakly at the apes.
That was all it took for them to attack. One of the monkeys dropped down onto Bajan’s back and bit him in the shoulder with large, blunt incisors. The fatigued Draca Cat roared in pain and swept up his spiked tail to dislodge the creature and toss it to the ground.
Beck yelped in shock as he looked down at the aggressor. It was a Moshie! The monkey people of legend with disturbingly human faces and even more disturbingly simian teeth. They’re real?
Airron stepped out of his harness. “Stand guard over Kiernan and Rogan. I’ll handle this.”
Even in the dim forest, Beck could see the faint shimmer in the air when Airron shifted into a bear.
Bajan’s attacker rushed him once again and the second Moshie jumped down at the bear, who took a mighty swing with an enormous paw. The Moshie darted out of the way, and joined his companion to attack Bajan in a very human, coordinated effort Beck wouldn’t have thought possible. They took the Draca Cat to the ground, one grabbing his front paws and the other biting into his hind leg and coming away with a mouthful of flesh and white fur.
Bajan howled and the bear tore toward the Moshies,
swiping at one with such tremendous force that the Moshie slammed against a tree and fell to the ground, lifeless. The remaining Moshie screeched and screamed while beating his chest, human eyes glaring with hatred. The maddened humanoid ape dove at the bear with teeth and fists, pummeling it to the ground with unbelievable strength, somehow managing to avoid the lethal claws.
In a final act of dominance, the muscular Moshie jumped down on the bear’s leg with all of his weight and then scampered away into the forest, leaving his dead cohort behind.
“Airron!” Beck cried out, stunned by the ferociousness of the attack.
The winded bodyshifter gazed up at him, arms and legs bleeding from bite marks and scratches. “That bloody beast broke my leg!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I felt it crack. Beck, I can’t walk. You’re going to have to go on without me.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not leaving you alone.”
“You have to!”
“Stay where you are,” Beck told him, and he hurried over to Bajan lying still on the ground. The Draca lifted a weary head and then let it drop back to the ground with a pained whine.
I can’t believe this is happening.
Beck put his head in his hands and took a deep breath.
I can’t give up now. We’ve come too far.
Reaching deep inside, he marshaled the strength remaining to him and called on the aid of the blood oath and his earthshifting. His toes and fingers tingled with the swell of power. The ground trembled beneath his feet. The twin magics clashed inside his body with explosive force, taking him to his knees.
“Beck, are you all right?”
Magic surged through him, energizing his aching body. Adrenaline raced to his heart. Muscles bulged, stretching skin.
With a snarl, he reached down and flung the injured Draca Cat across his shoulders as if he weighed no more than a sack of grain. Ignoring Airron’s shouts of protest, he walked to his friend and hoisted him onto his back beneath Bajan. “Hang on!”
“Beck! Leave me!”
“No.”
Despite his objection, Airron wrapped his good leg around Beck’s waist and left the other to dangle uselessly a few inches off the ground. Beck bent down under his burden to wrap the vines of both stretchers across his body and then he started to walk.
Legs burning painfully, he carried his four friends. Step by step, tears coursing down his face, he walked.
Chapter 40
New Light
King Maximus leaned on his sword tiredly, bereft of further stratagems to turn the tide of the conflict and gain an advantage over the Cymans and demons. His newly appointed captain of the Scarlet Sabers, Gage Gregaros, implored him time and again to leave the battlefield, but he refused, even when his horse was mercilessly cut down from under him. He received word moments ago that two of his loyal vassals, Lady Conry and Lord Paxton, had perished in the fight. He knew he was taking desperate chances, but he could do no less. Not after Colbie Nash.
After the Elves’ horrific defeat earlier that day, and after a brief retreat, the battle resumed and continued to rage. King Jerund assured Maximus that a messenger had been sent posthaste to Sarphia to summon the main branch of the Elven Army. Although, what form that messenger took was a mystery to Maximus as every last Elf who accompanied the King to the Valley of Flame was dead.
Without thinking, he thrust his sword out to hew at the neck of a Cyman battling one of his Scarlet Sabers.
Where is Kiernan? Where are the Savitars?
As objectionable as he found the thought to be, the Massans needed magic to fight the demons that Ravener introduced to this war. All of the swords in the world couldn’t defeat an entity that could disappear into the form of a wraith and sweep away into the night air.
With a heavy heart, he lunged at another enemy soldier and was struck from behind. He hit the ground hard, his breath disappearing from his lungs in a painful grunt. Rolling over, he looked up to find one of the red-eyed demons staring down at him.
He had danced with death for many hours this day and was almost relieved that the moment had finally arrived. His old body had reached its limits. The only guilt he would take with him concerned Kiernan, his beloved daughter. He prayed that she would always remember how much he had loved her. He had made decisions during the course of this life that he now regretted, but that he thought were right at the time. He always assumed Kiernan would be happier living with people like her—people of magic—but realized now how prejudiced that sounded.
Even so, he loved his little girl very much, just as he had loved her mother, the Queen. Grace had magic, too. She tried to keep it hidden, but he knew. He deliberately looked the other way with her because he had no other choice. He couldn’t live without her. Then, why couldn’t I do the same with Kiernan? He supposed it was because magic, any magic, served as a painful reminder of his loss.
He laughed in the shadow of the demon. She’s just like you, Gracie. The girl has mettle, that she does.
Maximus looked up at the repulsive creature standing over him and rolled away just as the demon’s black sword thrust down where his chest had been. If I’m going to die, it will be while standing on my own two feet and not flat on my back.
He scrambled upright, two hands on the hilt of his sword.
All at once, the demon roared in surprise as it was lifted into the air and slammed back down to the ground. The creature’s limbs snapped tight to its body and it thrashed violently against invisible bonds.
“Hello, Max,” said an unquestionably feminine voice from behind him.
He spun around in shock and peered into the face of the woman standing next to him. She looked familiar and he had to rack his brain before coming up with Gemini, one of Grace’s friends from down south somewhere.
She had her hand thrust out toward the demon as she smiled at him. “Nice to see you again, Your Grace,” she said more formally and bowed her head.
Maximus’s jaw dropped. Everywhere he looked beautiful women were fighting alongside the men and tearing into the demons with fervor—and magic.
Gemini flicked her hand and a woman in silk raced to the writhing figure on the ground and set it afire. Within seconds, the demon disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.
“What are you doing here?”
The gray-haired woman shrugged her shoulders. “Keeping a promise.”
“Grace?”
She nodded with a wistful smile. “Where is Kiernan?” she asked while throwing out her hands to wrap up a demon stalking behind him.
“I haven’t seen her since she left Nysa,” he responded and lunged over her shoulder with his sword to stab a Cyman preparing to grab her.
“What are you anyway? A shifter?” he asked
She shook her head and thrust out a hand, causing two Cyman soldiers to slam into each other and fall in a senseless heap to the ground. “I am a sorceress, Max! We all are. And, these witches,” she said, waving her arm around with a laugh, “are going to save your royal behind!”
***
Beck stumbled and fell to his knees with a frustrated groan. He readjusted Airron’s sleeping weight and pulled himself back upright.
The Elf had stopped protesting long ago which was just as well since Beck refused to talk to him. He focused only on the walking. Hour after hour in the incessant darkness and unrelenting rainfall. Alone. As good as alone, anyway. He had lost all track of time. The tears had dried up and the self-pity was gone. There was only the walking.
The walking and the light.
Less than a league prior, the needle of the compass abruptly spun north and when Beck looked up, he noticed a pinpoint of white light hovering in the air through the trees. He knew instinctively that was where he needed to be. Miraculously, and at long last, the compass had guided him through the elaborate tangle of magic surrounding Callyn-Rhe.
In Beck’s solitary existence, the light, much larger now, was the only brightness in a world go
ne dark. A safe refuge in a world gone mad. There, he knew, he would be able to unfetter his burdens, both physical and emotional. If only he managed to arrive there before his body gave out. The surge of magic-induced energy now consumed, his muscles burned with fatigue and his breathing was labored and painful.
“We’re almost there,” he announced in a weak, hoarse voice to those beyond hearing.
Suddenly overwhelmed, the tears he thought gone dripped again and mingled with the rain on his cheeks.
This state of weakness was unfamiliar to him. All of his life, his mind and body had been strong. Having strength was what defined him as a person. As an earthshifter. And now, it seemed, when he needed his strength the most, it was failing him.
He fell again and began to crawl on hands and knees through the decomposition of the forest floor, dragging his four friends behind him. Bajan and Airron both stirred, but he ignored their murmurs. He tried to swat at the insects that swarmed over his hands and arms, but it was no use. There were too many, their stinging bites already leaving a trail of welts.
Wait! The light! Where is the light? I lost it!
Crawling more urgently now, he fought down his panic. Reaching for a thick, low-hanging vine, he hauled himself back to his feet.
He briefly considered leaving his friends behind while he searched for the light, but quickly dismissed the idea. Without the ability to defend themselves, it would be too dangerous. And, he wasn’t certain he would be able to find them again if he did.
Screaming against the weight draped over his shoulders and back and around his waist, he struggled forward once again.
He reached up to clear his eyes of drizzle and tears and slammed face first into a wall. With a yelp of both surprise and pain, he stumbled back.
Another bloody wall! The light and Callyn-Rhe are behind this wall, I’m sure of it. The end of the journey is here.
Gently lowering Airron and Bajan to the ground and casting aside his harnesses, he reached out to the stone barrier in front of him. There seemed to be no beginning and no end—it just was.
He pounded the wall with both fists and snarled in frustration. After traveling all this way and suffering tremendous loss, it couldn’t end this way.
The shifters of Pyraan deserved more.
The legacy of their sacrifice deserved meaning.
Island Shifters - An Oath of the Blood (Book One) Page 34
