Island Shifters: Book 02 - An Oath of the Mage

by Valerie Zambito

  During a more serious moment, they also discussed the murder in the Grayan Forest and the widow and children the man from Iserport left behind.

  It was late when Beck climbed down the small ladder to the lower deck and entered the cabin he shared with Kiernan and Kenley. They were cuddled together, slumbering on the narrow bunk built into the hull of the boat. He smiled, pulled the blanket up over their shoulders, and then laid down on the bunk on the opposite side.

  He was sound asleep in seconds.

  The next morning, he awoke to dark. It confused him for a moment until he remembered that it was nighttime in Aquataine. He left Kiernan and Kenley and walked onto the upper deck. The watershifters were still in the water propelling the boat forward and he was alone. He glanced up at the glow worms on the cavern ceiling emitting their green radiance. The cavern where they now traveled was very narrow, and he could reach out and touch the limestone walls if he leaned over the rails far enough. He was just about to try when Rogan joined him on deck.

  He waved him over. “Come join me. You do realize that by this time tomorrow you will be a married man.”

  Rogan sat beside him. “I have already been married to Janin for six years.” He paused thoughtfully. “Best damn six years of my life, so I think it is about time I made her my bride.”

  Beck laughed. “I could not agree more.”

  “Agree with what?” They both turned to Airron emerging from the lower deck, silver hair fanned out behind his head. “That the Dwarf is a cooked goose?”

  Rogan crossed his arms at his chest. “And, what about you, Elf? Not yet ready for matrimony?”

  Airron’s purple eyes grew wide in shock and he shook his head. “Not me! I would like to keep my neck for a few years yet, thank you very much.”

  “Your neck?”

  Airron massaged his throat as if it were in danger of the guillotine. “Yes, you know the saying. Once you are married, the man becomes the head of the house. But,” he said, holding up a finger, “the woman is the neck, and she turns that head any which way she wants.”

  Rogan looked over at Beck. “How many times do I have to tell you that he is not right?”

  “Do not be envious, dear friend, it does not become you,” Airron retorted.

  Kiernan came on deck then and they slid into the easy conversation of old friends. Just like that, they were teenagers again and sitting around a campfire near the Grayan Forest outside of Pyraan, sharing stories and laughs. Although they lived in separate lands these days, their bond of friendship was as strong as ever, and they made it point to visit with each as often as possible.

  Second in line—at the moment—to the Deepstone Crown, Rogan lived in Kondor at the royal palace with Janin and his two children. Reilly was four years old and Jala was three. Rogan’s cousin, Erik Rojin, was now King, his father, King Rik, having been killed in a hunting accident a few years back. Erik was only eighteen, but should he marry and have children, they would become heir to the throne.

  Airron lived in Sarphia and was third in line to the Haventhal throne. King Jerund J’El sat the throne now and Airron’s third cousin, Prince Thorn J’El, was second.

  It was somewhat surprising that Kiernan, Rogan and Airron were all of royal blood. Their pureblood status spoke to the fact that as descendants of the original Savitars, they were pure in magic, not royalty.

  It was late when they retired to their cabins and early the following morning, the boat began to slow and Beck knew that they must be approaching Kondor.

  “Almost at the grate!” Digby confirmed and within moments, they pulled into the small Aquatainian village of Fontaine. Shouts of greeting drifted to them from the shore and waterway. All villagers who could, knelt to the ground.

  Beck helped Kiernan and Kenley disembark while Baya leapt off the deck in an impressive leap and landed in the sand with an enthusiastic shake of her white coat.

  “Thank you, Digby. Can I talk you into leaving now and going home to be with your wife?” Beck asked.

  The watershifter shook his head. “I will go home as soon as I escort you back to Bardot.”

  Beck nodded reluctantly, knowing he would not win the argument against Digby’s unfailing loyalty. Stepping off the boat, he led his little party to the stairs cut into the limestone walls of the cavern that led the way to the Surface World just outside of King Erik’s castle in Kondor. It was a considerable walk to the top, so Beck waited for Kiernan and scooped her up in his arms. She yelled at him to put her down muttering that she was quite capable of walking a few steps, but he ignored her and soon she gave in and snuggled into his shoulder.

  He set her down when they reached the summit and opened the grate.

  “They are here,” came an immediate shout from outside.

  Beck ducked through first and was greeted by his guard, Roman Traynor. The Saber was tall, almost as tall as he was, and well-built with an olive complexion and short cropped black hair and black eyes. Beck thought he resembled an eagle, always alert, always wary. The two men traded grips. “Good to see you, Captain. Any problems?”

  Roman shook his head. “None, Your Grace. We are safe.”

  While Beck waited for the others to exit, he scanned the area carefully. If it was as safe as Roman indicated, why did it not feel that way to him? He could not explain it adequately, only that there seemed to be a malevolent pall hanging in the air, and he could not shake the eerie feeling that eyes were boring holes into his body. And, the most remarkable feature about those eyes?

  They were full of hate.

  CHAPTER 5

  The Wedding

  The screeching rasp of the guardroom door opening drifted down the stairs of the dungeon, and Davad Etin recoiled. Every footstep that followed felt like a sadistic physical blow to his mind and body. When his large assailant came into view outside of his cell, he scrambled back on his cot.

  “You have a visitor,” the guard told him gruffly.

  Davad breathed in relief. Was it Abram? It had been several days since he last saw him.

  But, it was not Abram, it was the Lady Ava Conry.

  The eighteen-year-old came into her Ladyship when her mother, Isabella Conry, died at the Valley of Flame fighting alongside King Maximus. Isabella’s son also perished in the war and that left Ava in position for the seat on Court.

  What a windfall that had been for him. Isabella Conry would never have turned against Maximus, but Ava had no such loyal tendencies toward the King. Having Abram and Ava in his front pocket was what tipped the scales in his favor and started his plans in motion. Where he had gained Abram’s support through blackmail, he had gained Ava’s through sex. At thirty-six, he was twice her age, but Ava Conry was no innocent. She was a parasitic opportunist and knew exactly how to achieve her goals. When she used her considerable feminine assets to her advantage, few men were able to resist. He did not fool himself that she loved him any more than he loved her. He just happened to be the premier catch of the moment. From him, she wanted the most treasured prize of all. She wanted to be Queen of Iserlohn.

  He hoped she did not notice his initial panic and berated himself for his frailty. This dungeon was contorting his wits into mush, and he knew for his own sanity he needed out. Soon.

  Collecting himself, he rose from the bed and walked to the cell door. The voluptuous blonde pouted her red lips at the guard. “You may leave us.”

  The guard smiled at her like an imbecile, and then left them alone in violation of every regulation in which he had been entrusted to enforce. It did not matter. The guard would die. The moment he was released from this cell and not a second later.

  Ava waited until the guard was out of sight before reaching her hands through the cell bars toward him. “I have missed you,” she purred.

  He sighed inwardly and approached her outstretched embrace. There was no one better at this game than he was. “Ava, how nice of you to visit. I was starting to think that you had abandoned me.”

  Ava shook her blo
nde curls petulantly. “Now, Davad, how could I do that? I tied my fate to you long ago. I could not walk away now if I wanted to.”

  “When am I getting out of here?” he asked, hoping she did not hear the tinge of desperation in his voice.

  “Soon, I hope. Abram is working quite diligently on your release.”

  “What about you? It appears as though you hold sway with the guard. Surely, you can convince him to release me.”

  Ava laughed. “Why Davad, you do have a high regard for my talents! I was able to get the man to allow me to talk with you alone after he patted me down, quite thoroughly I might add, but he would never risk doing anything as blatant as releasing you against the King’s orders.”

  Disappointed, Davad turned away from her. “I still cannot believe Kenith did this.” After thinking it over the past few days, he realized that Maximus must have grown suspicious and talked his spineless brother into spying on him. But, the King could not know all that he planned. Not when he had effectively cut off all lines of communication from Iserport. He doubted very much that Maximus was aware that an army was moving toward Nysa at this very moment. Especially, with people in the palace still providing those blind spots he needed to keep the Iserlohn royals in the dark.

  It was pathetically easy to dupe these people, and in his view, that was precisely why they should not be in power. Then again, was Maximus really as in the dark as he supposed? It was obvious now that he had some knowledge of what was going on when he sought out Kenith and arranged that little spectacle at Court. He would need to get out of this cell to know for sure but unfortunately, his fate was in the hands of others.

  He turned back to Ava with a snarl. “If you wish to be Queen of Iserlohn, either get that old man to move a little faster or lay on your back for that guard. Now!”

  “Janin, you look stunning,” breathed Kiernan, looking over her friend’s shoulder at the reflection in the mirror. Rogan’s bride was wearing an ivory, floor-length gown with wide sleeves and laced bodice. A wide, maroon ribbon cinched her around the waist in a elegant bow. Around her temples, she wore a silver circlet with a drop stone sapphire that hung in the middle of her forehead. A matching velvet hooded cape was worn over the dress and would remain in place during the ceremony until her new husband removed it for her, claiming her as his wife. Before that happened, though, Janin would pluck a hair from Rogan’s beard to prove he was worthy.

  Kiernan shook her head. As Janin’s bridal matron, she was still reeling over her expeditious tutelage in Dwarven customs. After the ceremony, there would be a bizarre attempt to steal the groom’s boots by the male guests, Janin’s father would be doused in oil and feathers, and the dancing and drinking would not end until the following morning.

  Kiernan hoped she would at least be able to make a good show of it for her two dear friends, but was already exhausted from traveling. “So, are you ready to be Rogan’s wife?”

  Janin spun around and the shining light in the Dwarf’s eyes said it all. “The only thing that could make this day any more perfect would be if Dillon was here to share it with us.”

  She reached for Janin’s hands. “I never knew Dillon, but Rogan has told me often what a terrific friend and soldier he was.”

  Janin straightened with a sigh. “For Highworld’s sake, enough of this melancholy! This is my wedding day!”

  Kiernan laughed. It was so like Janin. A soldier herself for many years, she had a very pragmatic view of the way of life.

  A loud knock on the door to Janin’s chambers signaled that it was time. “Kali Janin! All is ready!”

  The servant addressed Janin prematurely by using the honorific. Officially, the feminine Dwarven title for a royal in waiting—Kali— was not to be used until after the ceremony. Rogan had already been dubbed Kal Rogan after the Demon War and his ancestry was made known.

  Janin exhaled an anxious breath and went to the door to open it. Immediately, three servants rushed in and six hands flowed over their soon-to-be new Kali. Her chestnut hair was molded into shape, her dress smoothed, the hood of her cloak raised, and a bouquet of flowers thrust into her hands.

  The poignant lilt of the wedding music drifted through the open doors of the room. One of the servants turned to Kiernan, looked her up and down with a critical eye, and then nodded. “You are first, Princess.”

  Kiernan patted her swollen abdomen to ease her nerves and went through the door. As soon as she came into view on the second floor balcony, she caught Beck’s eye below and smiled at him. He stood next to Rogan and Airron beyond the wide open doors of the enormous and lavishly decorated Dwarven great hall.

  She drew murmurs of approval for her floor length silk, black and scarlet gown and nodded her head graciously.

  Many of the prominent members of society from all three lands were in attendance. Kiernan noticed Thorn J’El, the Prince of Elves, and Gladewatcher, Loren Faolin, a close friend of Airron’s from Haventhal who often traveled with Airron during his visits to Iserlohn.

  It was unfortunate that her father could not be there, but a number of Iserlohn nobles were present, and Roman Traynor, Beck’s personal guard, was standing in the back of the room with the rest of the Sabers looking splendid in his crisp black uniform and scarlet slash. Several Gems from Elloree stood among the esteemed congregation and, as always, they made Kiernan feel frumpy and dull in their glamorous presence.

  Dwarven nobles and gentry gathered in the hundreds, and General Klay Arsten and his elite Iron Fists surrounded King Erik Rojin, the only one seated. The pride of Deepstone stood proud and alert in their magnificent dress tunics of blue and maroon.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Kenley, Reilly and Jala looked like little angels wearing all white, waiting to escort her and Janin to their places at the makeshift altar.

  The baby kicked vigorously halfway down the steps, but she managed to keep the sharp pain from her face. Kenley reached for her hand as she descended and led her toward the great hall. They had only taken a few steps when another appreciative gasp filled the room.

  Janin had appeared at the top of the balcony.

  “Highworld, woman, you look beautiful!” Rogan exclaimed loudly. He ignored the ladies in the room who scowled at his lack of etiquette, and the men tried to hide their grins. Janin, however, laughed aloud as she glided down the stairs to the waiting hands of her children. Reilly and Jala escorted her to their father and, in a touching moment, kissed Janin’s hand before placing it in Rogan’s hand.

  The music stopped then and all was hushed.

  The Dwarven clergyman smiled at the couple. “Kal Rogan, we are here to witness your marriage to this woman, Janin Stonedge. Do you find her worthy?”

  Rogan reached out and gently pushed back the hood from Janin’s face. “I do.”

  Janin Stonedge, Kal Rogan has found you worthy. Do you find him the same?”

  Kiernan held her breath as Janin reached out and searched Rogan’s short brown beard for a small hair. Finding one that suited her, she yanked it out. Rogan did not flinch. “I do.”

  If Rogan had flinched, Janin would have found him unworthy and left him at the altar.

  The clergyman spoke eloquently and at length regarding the covenant of marriage and the blessings of their union. Then, his expression turned solemn as he turned to Rogan. “A Kal is greatly revered by his people. Do you find them worthy to protect and defend for as long as you shall live?”

  Rogan faced the congregation and bowed from the waist. “I do.”

  The clergyman turned to Janin. “A Kali is greatly honored by her people. Do you find them worthy enough to love and nurture for as long as you shall live?”

  Janin steepled her hands under her chin and bowed to her guests. “I do.”

  “Kal Rogan, please remove the cloak and declare your right to this woman.”

  Janin turned around so Rogan could remove her velvet cloak.

  The clergyman smiled. “It is with great honor that I present to Deepstone and all ho
nored guests, Kal Rogan and Kali Janin!”

  The crowd rose to their feet with great applause. Kiernan hurriedly kissed Rogan and Janin and then stepped back to give the new bride and groom room to receive their guests. Beck and Kenley came to stand beside her.

  Kiernan sighed and mentally prepared for the long evening ahead. She would need every ounce of energy she possessed to get through it. Especially, since her unborn son was already dancing a celebration of his own.

  Outside in the festooned courtyard and surrounded by the flickering glow of torchlight, Beck sat back in his chair and tapped his foot in time to the lively music of a stringed dulcimer, trying very hard not to laugh as he watched a bootless Rogan attempt a clumsy reel with his new wife.

  In true Dwarven fashion, the party was still going strong. Although it must have been after midnight, the celebration was in no danger of ending any time soon.

  He glanced down at Kenley, asleep in his arms. She was so beautiful with her black ringlets that somehow always managed to fall in her eyes just as Kiernan’s always did. He reached out gently to tuck a tress back behind her ear with a smile. She had worn herself out playing with Reilly and Jala. Just four and three years of age, neither of the Dwarven children had displayed shifting talents as of yet, but they would. As direct descendants of a Savitar, there was no doubt that they would be magic users, it just remained to be seen when.

  Kiernan had gone to bed hours ago but Beck stayed, enjoying his seat at the periphery of the festivity. Not surprising, Airron was still in high spirits and actively engaged in dancing with any woman he could get his hands on.

  Beck yawned. It was now time for him to get some rest as well. He enjoyed many hours in honor of his friend’s wedding, but his body was signaling that it was time to go.