Island Shifters: Book 02 - An Oath of the Mage

by Valerie Zambito

  That blonde woman cast a spell at him! She was no servant, but a bloody sorceress!

  He stood up from the floor and strode through the knot of soldiers to the doors reaching immediately for the handle. Locked! It would not budge. He knew then that they would never get that door open. His instincts told him that it was magically sealed and no amount of force would open it.

  “Stay here!” he ordered Commander Mendel. “If anybody so much as takes a peek out of this door, strike them dead!”

  With that, he retreated back down the corridor. Oh, this is not the end of it, Maximus. You may have found a temporary hole to hide in, but you will be ferreted out and disposed of. I promise you that.

  “And, find me a new sword!” he shouted over his shoulder.

  CHAPTER 8

  Sinister Motives

  Beck Atlan was all hers. Avalon Ravener could hardly believe that her plan had worked so flawlessly. Their bodies less than a hand width apart, she smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Reaching out with his large hands, he framed her face and gazed down at her with unadulterated love in his eyes. The look was so powerful that she almost pulled away. With pressure from his thumbs, he tilted her head to the side and slowly lowered his lips to hers. A soft moan of pleasure escaped him at the intimate contact. Avalon allowed the kiss for a moment and tried to enjoy it but, unable to do so, she finally did pull back.

  “Ejektelo!”

  Her spell sent the earthshifter soaring through the cavern to land hard against the stone wall with a grunt.

  This was the third time she had to use the repel spell on her captive. For some reason, the glamour spell was working very strongly with him. She guessed it was due to the fact that he was a shifter, because she had never seen this type of reaction when used on the Cyman men who did not have the gift of magic.

  She laughed inwardly when she realized that he must have acted this same way when she cast this same glamour spell on him years ago in Iserport. What a scene he must have made with those two prostitutes. She only wished she had been there to witness the spectacle.

  “Mistress, please!” Beck pleaded, getting to his feet. “Did I do something wrong? Do I not make you happy?”

  She turned her back on him. “You will make me happy by staying right where you are.”

  “Yes, Mistress. Then, you will give me another kiss?”

  “Maybe,” she muttered noncommittally over her shoulder. Unfortunately, the glamour was necessary until she could secure the earthshifter properly. Once he did not pose a physical threat to her, she would remove the spell so she could question him.

  One of the reasons for the kidnapping was to retrieve The Protetor that was given to him by Galen Starr. She only learned of the existence of the book from one of her informants just this past year. With that book, she would have access to all of the secret arts of the Mage and, most importantly, the formula for the LifeFire Tonic. In the six years that she had been unable to take the life-giving elixir, she had aged considerably. More every day, she was feeling her three hundred and twenty five years. Her hair was starting to gray at the temples and her face had become hollow and gaunt, the fine lines of age spider-webbing across her face.

  Another reason was that she needed Beck Atlan’s body.

  Her plans required her to have the kind of access to the palace that only a royal family member could provide. She originally thought to use Kiernan Atlan—she was the weaker of the two—but, once she found out that Beck was in possession of The Protetor, she decided that he would fulfill both purposes quite nicely.

  She moved to a stone table cut into the side of the cavern wall and studied the maps strewn across its surface. They were still a considerable distance to her hideaway in Farout Falls where she had been living in isolation with her small group of twelve Cyman followers. Why the Cymans who deserted during the war willing followed, she was unsure, but this particular band was unaware that most of their brethren had traveled back to Nordik. She made sure these outcasts had little access to information and stayed well hidden. In truth, they had formed an unlikely family of sorts and depended on each other for survival.

  The otherworldly location of Deepstone was chosen to imprison the earthshifter primarily because he would have limited access to the earth and therefore his power would be stunted. She never dreamed that he would make it so easy for her by traveling right to her doorstep.

  A shadow fell across the cave entrance and a Cyman soldier ducked into the spacious cavern. “What is it, Cyrus?”

  “The place is crawlin’ with soldiers, Mistress. We will ‘ave to git movin’ to The Falls much sooner than we thought.”

  She figured as much. The disappearance of a Prince was sure to trigger a very significant manhunt.

  “Very well.”

  She looked over at her prisoner. He was leering at her ridiculously, and she shuddered. He was far too pretty for her taste. After living with Cyman men for hundreds of years, the smaller and weaker men of Massa seemed like pitiful creatures to her. Almost feminine. Oh, Beck Atlan was larger than most Massans, but still paltry compared to her Cymans.

  She thought about her last lover, Titus. She had wished often over the years that it had not been necessary to kill him, but it had. She had not taken another lover since then. She wondered why? It was not as if she had ever been in love with the boy. Or had she? She shook her head. Whatever the case, that was then and this was now. The bottom line was that Beck Atlan needed to die and not just to gain The Protetor or because she needed his body. He needed to die so that a new King could be raised in Iserlohn.

  “Your wife?” questioned Rogan incredulously. “Very funny, Airron. Now, tell us what is really going on. We do not have time for your usual games right now.”

  Airron’s smile melted from his face when he turned to address the Elven woman. “Melania. I would like to have a few words with my friends in private. Will you please excuse us for a few moments?”

  The silver-haired beauty lifted her chin and crossed her arms at her chest. “No.”

  “Melania, you don’t understand…”

  “It is you,” she declared, uncrossing her arms and gliding over to Airron in a flash on her light feet, “who does not understand. You are my husband now, Airron Falewir, and you must start behaving as such. You cannot just disappear without telling me!”

  “I left a note!”

  “A note! We must have these discussions together, my husband. And, as your wife, I should be traveling with you wherever you go.”

  Airron ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I am sorry, Melania. It appears that I need more instruction in being a proper husband.”

  “As well as a proper Elf!”

  He nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes, you are right. But, right now, I must talk to my friends.” He paused. “Princess Kiernan’s husband, Beck, has disappeared and we are trying to find him.”

  Melania swung her head to Kiernan, and her face turned red. Her noble upbringing overriding her anger, she bent her body into an elegant curtsy. “My apologies, Your Grace. I hope you do not judge all Elven woman by my behavior just now. Please forgive the untimely intrusion.”

  Kiernan gave her a gracious nod. “I appreciate your words, Lady Melania, and I assure you that I have nothing but respect for all of the Elven women of Haventhal. Besides, I can fully appreciate how marriage to Airron could bring about this type of reaction.”

  Janin snorted when she tried to hold back a laugh.

  Rogan just turned his back on the conversation.

  With a smirk Airron declared, “Now that everybody has had their fun, I will ask you again, Melania, to please wait for me downstairs. I will join you in just a few moments. Loren is here if you wish to seek him out for company.”

  When Rogan turned back, he saw the Elven woman nod her head once and then leave the room.

  Airron breathed out a sigh of relief and dropped into one of the stuffed chairs by the fireplace as soon as th
e door closed behind his wife.

  “Married? Really, Airron?” Rogan started in immediately. “You did not think that detail important enough to share with your best friends?”

  Airron’s trademark grin was nowhere to be seen. “I guess I have been in denial.” He stood abruptly. “It is King Jerund’s fault! He insisted that it was time I took a wife. For weeks and weeks, he badgered me about it, but then one evening a few weeks ago, the old goat tricked me into attending one of his many fêtes, which I had been quite successfully avoiding, and it turned out to be my wedding!” He was pacing now. “What could I have done? All of

  Elven high society was in attendance. Melania was already standing at the altar looking so lovely…”

  “Have you consummated…” Rogan began to interrupt.

  “What? Highworld, no! Not that I do not want to,” he quickly clarified. “She is very beautiful, of course, but how can you be intimate with a woman that nags at you all the time? For two weeks, she has been trying to mold me into the perfect Elf! Well, I am not perfect and that is perfectly fine with me!”

  The women seemed to be at loss for words so Rogan approached his friend and patted him on the back. “Everything will turn out for the best, Airron, but right now we have important decisions to make.”

  Airron nodded.

  Rogan looked over at Kiernan. “As Airron was saying before his wife appeared, we need to split up, although I am worried about you and Kenley traveling back to Bardot by yourselves.”

  Kiernan gave him a withering look. “I will pretend that you did not say that.”

  Janin snickered.

  “Just find Beck,” Kiernan pleaded, looking at Airron. “Please just find my husband.”

  “My word on it,” the Elf replied. “Now, I have to go have a discussion with Melania and send her back to Haventhal where she belongs.”

  Kiernan shook her head. “She does not seem the type who will go easily.”

  “No, she won’t. She is a spoiled noble brat and is far too used to getting her way all the time. Well, those beautiful violet eyes do not work on me! No way! She will do as I say or my name is not Airron Falewir!”

  “So, she’s going with you?” asked Loren Faolin, his thin eyebrows arched in disbelief.

  Airron strode angrily along the marble foyer and exited through the palace doors. “It appears that way.”

  As always in Kondor, or anywhere in Deepstone for that matter, the sound of chisels and hammers striking stone permeated the air. Dwarven masons tended to the multitude of stonework in the city around the clock, and the pride they took in their workmanship was legendary throughout Massa.

  “Where are you going?” asked Loren.

  “To the stables to saddle the horses! I was going to try and track Beck on my own four legs as a Gangi dog, which by the way are the best trackers on the island, but, no, now I have to travel by horse with my wife!”

  “Would you like me to go with you and help out?” his friend asked, cautiously.

  Airron quickly shook his head. “Thank you, but, no. The more people along, the more the scents will be confused.”

  “As you wish,” Loren said, and for some reason he sounded relieved. “I will bid you farewell then. I need to return to my duty with the Gladewatchers.”

  Airron stopped and stuck out his arm to trade grips with Loren. “I will see you soon, then. Tell the First and King Jerund what has happened and that I will be detained for a period of time.”

  Loren nodded and turned to depart, but then stopped and looked back at him. “I think you should give Melania a chance, Airron. If you dig under the surface a bit, I think you will find something quite unexpected.”

  A high shriek cut through the air. “Airron Falewir! Have you not saddled those horses yet? What is the matter with you?”

  “You were saying?” Airron asked Loren.

  The Elf bowed and backed away hastily. “I was saying that I must be on my way. Good luck to you, my friend.” And, with that, he was gone.

  Airron sighed and watched his wife approach. Was there any credibility to what Loren said? He had been so busy avoiding Melania, but maybe he should have been putting more effort into getting to know her better. She was beautiful. A blind elf would be hard pressed to miss that fact. She was wearing a high-necked, sleeveless emerald dress that swirled around her hips as she moved on feet as light as air. Her arms were tanned and muscular and her lips…

  “Hello! Are you going to just stand there staring all day?” she asked.

  Airron started. “What? No. No, you are right. We must get moving.”

  She nodded her head in approval and walked past him toward the stables. A Dwarven groom was just bringing their horses around when they arrived. The groom handed the reins of a powerfully built, sable Haventi to him and a black and white Pinto to Melania. He was pleasantly surprised to see such high caliber horses in Deepstone. If there was anything an Elf of Haventhal knew, it was horses.

  Melania was a very good equestrian, that much he did know about her, and they quickly stowed their packs behind their saddles and mounted.

  “Earlier I tracked Beck’s scent moving in a westerly direction toward the Koda River,” he informed her. “We should ride that way for few leagues, and then I will bodyshift again to get a fresh trail.”

  She simply nodded.

  He suddenly thought of something. “You have never seen me shift. Will it bother you to see me transform into an animal?”

  She shook her head. “I knew what I was getting into when I married you.”

  What did that mean? He decided not to pursue, and they started their journey through the Land of Stone sharing little conversation.

  Two hours later, they shared a cold meal of bread and cheese from their saddles, along with Airron’s promise of fresh rabbit and leeks over a fire when they stopped for the evening. Knowing he would not find wood along the way, a bundle of logs sat behind him on the saddle.

  He looked out over the horizon. The road they traveled cut through the red sandstone landscape like the winding body of a serpent and seemed to go on forever with no end in sight. Enormous buttes in a variety of shapes and sizes and colors, pierced the blue sky like the fingers of a giant, fossilized for all time. The black holes of what must have been hundreds of caves and caverns dotted the vivid landscape.

  Airron much preferred the lush hills and forests of Haventhal, but had to admit that Deepstone had a picturesque beauty that was very alluring and mysterious. He could now understand some of the Dwarves unyielding obsession with preserving the beauty of the stone.

  This far outside of the city was eerily deserted, although he knew that they would encounter villages and people closer to the life-giving Koda.

  He stopped the Haventi. “I better make sure we are still on Beck’s trail.”

  Melanie halted her horse and alighted to the ground with ease, brushing the dust from her emerald dress and then securing a knife belt around her middle. “Is there any shade or water in this Highworld-forsaken land?”

  Airron handed her one of the two water bags attached to his saddle. “You can rest over by those boulders,” he said, pointing to a flat formation of rocks. “That should afford you some comfort from the heat. I won’t be long.”

  Accepting the bag without further comment, she walked the Pinto off the road.

  Airron reached out with his mind and tried to create a mental connection with his horse using the technique King Jerund showed him, but it did not work. After all these years, he was still unable to perform the Elven magic that should have been innate to him. Frustrated, he called out to Melania. “Can you tell this bloody animal to stay put?”

  Almost immediately, the Haventi let out a contented whisker, so she must have done as he asked.

  He undressed behind the horse, and then the air glistened as his body contorted downward into a Gangi dog.

  The dog immediately took off at a run and put his snout to the ground, swinging his head back and forth alon
g the road. The scent of the human he tracked was very well known to him, and he would be able to pick it out even with the overpowering smell of the horses nearby.

  Many scents saturated the ground and the air. Humans, animals, and something else. Something not quite human, but he could not identify the source. Dismissing the puzzle, he ventured further down the road and it was not long before he found the scent he was searching for.

  He had found the trail of the human.

  The Gangi was so busy with his work that a new dangerous scent did not immediately register in his mind. Simultaneously with the rabid smell that drifted to his nose came the terrified shriek of the Elven woman.

  CHAPTER 9

  Half an Army is Better Than None

  “I would not be overly worried about Maximus, Davad,” remarked Abram. “He will have to come out to drink and eat at some point. Stubborn he may be, but I do not think that he will choose to starve to death.”

  Davad nodded in agreement. The King could not hold out for very long. “We will be waiting when he does.”

  In the library of the royal palace where they were seated around a table, Ava Conry glared up from an intense study of her fingernails. “Until then?”

  Davad ignored her and strode to the library door to reassure himself that the two Eagles were still posted outside. The room had two exits, and he insisted that both be defended exclusively by legionnaires of his House. His paranoia of an assassin’s arrow was increasing every day.

  After spotting the soldiers, Davad turned from the door and began to pace. His mind was racing frantically and it helped to sort through the jumble of his thoughts if he was moving. For the past few days, he had been finding it difficult to think straight. Was he ill? With a mental shrug, he turned his concentration to the conversation before him. Abram was talking about Hugo Bassus.