Her green eyes lit up. “Yes, my husband is a Mage.”
Hendrix licked his lips at the unexpected gift. It seemed the makings of a new Vypir just landed squarely in his lap.
* * * * *
“We are losing control!” Samara fumed at the two Shiprunners sitting at the table with her in the mayor’s private office. They were Chandal’s most trusted officers and she felt at ease speaking freely in front of them. She leaned forward and slammed both palms on the table. “Most of the people of the city have fled right under our noses! How in the Netherworld could that have happened? You do realize they will be returning with reinforcements?”
The more senior of the two flinched back from her. “Second Samara, we are sailors not fighters.”
“You can secure a gate, can’t you? Your delicate hands won’t get bloodied standing in front of a closed gate!” She jabbed a finger at the Shiprunners. “This mess lies squarely at the feet of your caste! You have allowed your sailors to run amok in the city to frighten the citizens off before we could properly contain them!” She stood back and began pacing. “Wait until the Premier hears of this. I will not take the blame, I tell you. No! This is Chandal’s fault and his alone.”
“What do you suggest, Second?”
Samara took a deep breath. “Have you found that boy with the golden eyes yet?”
He shook his head. “No, Second, not yet.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers and tried to repress the desire to kill these two officers where they sat. Once a bit calmer, she said. “Well, find him. Not only is he a powerful magic user, but a Prince of this land. We cannot afford to lose him.” She cursed under her breath. The situation could not be worse. For the first time in centuries, they found a source for both the wormwood plants and the blood and now they were about to squander it all away. Discretion was what was needed, but instead they tromped over the Massans like arrogant swine. Did Chandal really think the sequester of the estate’s inhabitants in the cellar would go unnoticed? Why was he not reining in his people? It was unlike him to be so careless in his duties. Speaking of which, “Where is Chandal?” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
One of the Shiprunners cleared his throat uneasily. “He…he is with the girl?”
“That little Elf?” she shrieked at them. “How dare he? We are in the middle of a hostile takeover and he is enjoying a bloody bedroom romp? Go get him! If he is not in this room within a quarter of an hour, I will personally cut his—”
The door to the office opened behind her.
Samara twisted around and could hardly believe her eyes. “Emile!” As proof of her fragile state, she did the unthinkable. She ran to him and threw herself into his arms.
Emile returned the embrace rigidly, clearly uncomfortable with her demonstrative behavior. “Nice to see you, too, Samara. I think.”
Red-faced, she pulled away from him. What was she doing? She was a high-ranking Second of the Ellvinian Empire, and an emotional outburst of this nature was far beneath her. Very far. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed out her tongor and raised her head to meet his gaze. “My apologies, Emile. It’s just that it has not been going exactly as planned lately. I will admit that I am pleased to see you here.”
He cocked his head to the side. “That much is obvious.”
She turned away from him so he could not see her blush. “Please sit down. We were just discussing the problems at hand.” Emile sat, and she described the events of the past few days making sure to highlight Chandal’s inadequacies in controlling the Shiprunners. Emile might be a Second just as she, but everyone knew he was the Premier’s right-hand man.
“Have you brought reinforcements?” she asked hopefully.
“At the moment, two hundred Battlearms, but in my wake another twenty thousand. Will that do?” he asked smugly.
Her body trembled in relief, but she managed to keep her excitement under control. Her lips twitched up into a smile. “Aye, I think that will do just nicely.”
“I think it is time I had a talk with Chandal to see what he has to say about all this,” Emile said and stood.
“Agreed,” she said, still smiling. Because, although discretion was preferred, a Battlearm would do the job just as well. The only difference was the amount of blood involved. And, as an Ellvinian, that was pure magic to her ears.
* * * * *
Kane was glad he took the time to speak to Lars as the mayor did offer him a way to bypass most of the guards watching Chandal’s room.
With the help of Kellan and Kirby, they stormed the kitchens and quickly dispatched the Ellvinians inside. From there, it took no time to locate the small lift Lars told them of built into the back wall by the hearth. It was nothing more than a wooden platform linked to a pulley system designed to carry dirty dishes from the guest chambers directly to the kitchens, but it was exactly what he needed.
Somehow, Kane managed to squeeze his bulk onto the platform and hand over fist, hauled himself up the chute. By the time he reached the third floor, sweat poured from this face and his arms quivered from the effort. At the top, he paused to listen for any hint of noise outside of the lift. Hearing nothing, he slid the tiny door open and unfolded his cramped body free. A quick glance told him that no one was guarding this particular hall that was used primarily by the servants.
As Kane moved down the corridor, he withdrew his sword and focused on the fight ahead of him. Lars told him there were four Ellvinians guarding Chandal’s room, and he would have to defeat them all to get to Izzy. Could Alia be in there as well? His heart hammered in his chest at the thought of her. He had promised her a date, and it was a promise he intended to keep. Emboldened by his chivalrous desires, he turned the corner at a full sprint with his sword out in front of him. Skidding to an abrupt stop, he saw that there were not four guards. There were seven.
Having no other choice, he struck.
As a Prince of Iserlohn, he was born to the dance of the blade. His siblings disdained weaponry of any kind, and he could not blame them. A weapon would only weigh Kenley down when she took to the skies and Kellan’s fists were deadlier than any weapon made of metal.
Not Kane. He relished the symmetry of movement in the swordfight. As he grunted with effort, every stroke found its mark and every parry was turned aside. Each forward movement he took meant death to the enemy because anything less meant he would die. That Izzy would die.
At the end of the dance, Kane stood alone.
He stepped over the Ellvinian in front of the door and opened it prepared to do battle once again, but the sitting room was empty. Hurriedly, he ran through to the bedroom. With a well-placed kick, the door flew open and he was inside.
He almost fell to the floor with relief at the sight of little Izzy sitting in the corner.
Then, he saw the blood.
Slowly, he walked forward, but she did not acknowledge him. As he advanced into the room, his gaze went to the bed and the naked dead man lying there.
A fury unlike anything he had ever felt in his life enveloped him. With stilted steps, he made his way to the bed. It was Chandal.
He sheathed his sword, moved to Izzy and squatted down in front of her. “Izzy, are you all right?”
Her lips began to tremble, but she nodded.
“Did you…”
“Yes, I killed him,” she whispered softly.
He lifted her chin and waited until her violet eyes met his. “Good girl.”
She glanced at him from underneath her eyelashes. “Do you really mean it?”
“Of course I do. Do not for one moment regret valuing your own life ahead that of a monster. He would never have returned the favor.” He looked down at her state of undress. “Did…did he hurt you?”
“No.”
Thank the Highworld.
“I will get you out of here safely, Izzy, I promise you that.” Her back straightened a fraction at his words. “Can you walk?”
She nodded and got to her feet
.
“I am sorry to rush you, Izzy, but someone will see the dead guards in front of this room very soon. We must leave at once before others come.”
Her eyes widened. “You had to kill, too?”
“Yes. Hurry now and get dressed.”
She quickly ran to the basin and washed the dried blood from her face and arms. Then, he turned away as she bent down and retrieved her dress from the floor and scrambled into it. She was just tying the laces of her boots when the door to the sitting room opened.
“Chandal! Chandal! Get out here now! We must speak with you at once.”
Kane reached behind his back for his sword and it came free with an echoing ring.
Lady Samara and another Ellvinian male appeared in the doorway to the bedroom and Kane stepped in front of Izzy.
He watched the Ellvinian woman’s eyes take in the scene and her dead companion on the bed. “What is this? What have you done?”
“We have done nothing except protect our own lives. Now, step away from the door. We are leaving.”
Samara opened her mouth and held a hand out to Izzy. “Come here, my darling. You wish nothing more than to come and be with me.” Kane heard the words she said, but it did not have the same hypnotizing effect as it seemed to on others.
As Izzy started forward toward Samara, Kane grabbed her arm and held her back. “No!”
The shouted word seemed to confuse Izzy and she stopped.
The tall Elf with Samara stepped forward and when he opened his mouth and spoke, Izzy ran to him. He immediately hugged her to his body and put an arm around her neck. “Drop the sword or she is dead.” There was no mistaking the menace in his voice. “Thus far, you have been dealing with the Shiprunners, lad, but I am a Battlearm and you do not wish to mess with me. I promise you that.”
Samara held her arms out toward Izzy. “Give her to me, Emile.” The Elf let her go and Izzy went willingly into Samara’s arms. The Ellvinian woman promptly began stroking Izzy’s hair and whispering in her ear.
“What is his magic?” The Elf Samara called Emile asked without taking his eyes from Kane.
“He creates illusions of himself and so is able to slip through our fingers like mist in the wind.”
“Why is he not responding to Ascendency?”
“I have not figured that out yet. We learned the hard way that it does not work on the magic users who call themselves mindshifters either. They killed several Shiprunners before we were able to put them down.”
The blood oath in Kane flared through his body.
Emile scratched his chin. “Interesting. It must have something to do with magic that originates in the mind. Since this boy’s magic is centered around his sight and mind, it seems he, too, is immune.” Emile reached out and stroked Izzy’s cheek. “We still have other ways to keep him under control.”
“Get your hands off her,” Kane seethed.
Emile smiled and leaned out of the doorway. “I would like you to meet two of my fighters. Zebin! Liam! Come here at once.”
Almost instantly, two muscular Ellvinians stepped into the room. The crisp white frocks they wore bore an elegant gold trim Kane had not seen before on the others. Emile nodded toward Kane. “This boy here says that the Battlearms are weak.”
Two pairs of black eyes snapped his way.
“He says you are lazy and slow. He thinks he can take the two of you on at one time and win the fight easily.”
Samara ushered Izzy from the room. “Come now, darling. I believe the boys wish to have a little fun.”
Kane stepped back to give himself room to fight.
Out of nowhere, one of the Battlearms flicked a metal star-shaped object through the air and before Kane could dodge out of the way, it embedded in his sword hand. He cried out, and the sword of Iserlohn dropped from nerveless fingers.
The Battlearms used the distraction to close the distance between them. One punched him in the jaw at the same time the other buried a fist in his stomach.
Kane doubled over in pain, but the Battlearms were not through with him yet. As it turned out, they were just getting started.
CHAPTER 21
BLOODBATH
Kane’s shoulders ached from the way the Ellvinian fighters carried him by his elbows, but he did not have the strength to straighten his body and walk. Instead, his head hung low and his feet dragged feebly along the floor of the corridor.
His tongue glided over his swollen lip and then checked that his teeth were all still there. They seemed to be intact and he did not think the fighters broke any bones, but by the way his body felt, they came close.
“Where are you taking me?” he croaked out and noticed that one of the Elves carried his baldric and sword.
The two Elves ignored him and swept him down the hallway and through the doors to the ballroom. The tables and decorations from the gala had all been cleared and the two fighters dumped him unceremoniously in the middle of the large room.
“Don’t move or you’ll get your own sword through your back.”
With a groan, Kane rolled over and stared motionless up at the ceiling willing the pain to subside. Slowly, he turned his head to the front of the room. Samara, Emile, and several other Ellvinians were sitting behind a long table covered in what appeared to be maps.
“We do not have any choice in the matter, Samara,” he heard Emile say. “The Premier has commanded.”
“But, declare war?”
“It is the only way. How else are we to meet the needs of our people?” Emile glanced over at Kane. “In any case, it is too late to turn back now.”
Palpable grief raked Kane’s body at the fate that awaited Massa. It was not likely that he would ever see his parents again either, trapped as they were on enemy land. Powerful though they were, anyone caught unawares would be vulnerable. Kenley was far away in Callyn-Rhe, but even she would not be safe if war broke out. And, Izzy Falewir? After the nightmare she had been through with Chandal, he let her slip right through his fingertips.
He laughed bitterly at his incompetence. Not only did the children of Savitars invite the enemy onto their soil in unmanageable numbers, but they also threw them a gala in the process! How would the Dwarves and Elves react to such outrageous naiveté? Would they blame magic users? Would it result in another segregation of the lands as was the case after the Mage War? Until twenty years ago, the lands of Haventhal and Deepstone wanted nothing to do with each other or with Iserlohn. This mistake could have devastating and far-reaching consequences for the island of Massa.
If his father had been here, he never would have allowed any of this to happen. In good conscience, Kane could not even blame his youth. He was a Prince of Iserlohn and knew better.
“Kane, are you all right?” a soft voice asked.
He swallowed back the sting of failure when he saw familiar purple eyes peering down at him. Izzy. He turned his head away. “I am so sorry, Izzy. How can you even look at me?”
“Why wouldn’t I look at you? I have never been happier to see anyone in my life.”
“But, I let them take you again.”
She tore a piece of fabric from the bottom of her dress and pressed it against his lip. “You did not let them do anything. You risked your life to come after me, and I love you for that. Thank you, Kane.” She leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. You promised, remember?”
When he smiled, the cut on his lip caused him to wince. “I did promise, didn’t I? On my life, Izzy, I will do whatever I can to keep you safe.”
“I know.”
The door to the ballroom opened.
“Second Emile! We found this girl soaking in a tub in one of the guest chambers.”
Kane turned and his heart stopped beating in his chest. It was Alia and her clothes were soaking wet and clinging to her body. The fighter gripping her by her upper arm leaned down and sniffed her neck. “This one is quite full of the magic.”
Emile stro
de forward. “Come here, girl. Where have you been hiding?”
Alia’s mouth opened and then she saw Kane on the floor and frowned. “I…I was in the servant’s quarters.”
“You just happened to be bathing in your clothes?”
She lifted her chin. “I am a watershifter. It was either that or die.” She glanced back at him. “What is going on here?”
“Are there others with you?” Emile asked instead of answering her question.
She quickly shook her head. “No.”
Emile took a sniff. “Aye, she is one of the shifters. She should pose no problem out of the water. Take her to the cellar with the rest.”
“No problem? I’ll be happy to show you just how big of a problem I can—”
A high-pitched keening echoed from the hallway outside and interrupted Alia’s tirade. Everyone in the room, including the Ellvinians at the table, went silent.
Click. Click. Shuffle. Click. Click.
Someone or something Kane amended to himself, lumbered toward the open ballroom doors.
Shuffle. Click. Click. Shuffle.
The distressed cry reverberated again, and the hair on the back of Kane’s neck stood straight up. What in the Highworld was it? It reminded him of the sounds a dying animal might make. Instinctively, he pitched to his feet and stepped in front of Izzy. Despite the ominous atmosphere, his gaze sought out the fighter that held his sword. He would need that sword to get Izzy and now Alia to safety.
Click. Click. Shuffle.
A shadow appeared at the entrance to the ballroom and then the thing itself.
“Oh, dear Highworld,” Izzy whispered.
The beast shuffled into the room hunched over and balanced on the knuckles of his hands. His muscled legs ended in claws that clicked on the tile when he moved, and a long appendage twisted sinuously in the air behind him. White hair stood up in tuffs around its skeletal features, and the skin was pulled tight over a face and ears that looked remarkably Elven.
Island Shifters: Book 03 - An Oath of the Children Page 15
