“Nothing, Mistress. I am just going to lie down for a few minutes. My stomach does not feel very well.”
“Fine.”
Kenley got up from the table and hurried over to her pallet and laid down with her back to the adults. She did not want them to see her black eyes.
Baya!
I am here.
Highworld, Baya, how did you find me?
I traveled behind your Maman and then passed her and the others when they stopped at the witches’ castle.
My Maman is coming?
Yes.
I am so frightened, Baya, that if you or Maman come here, you will be killed. The Mistress is very mean and powerful. You must not try to rescue me! She was crying freely now.
She does not frighten me.
That is because you do not know her.
A growl sounded in her head. Did she harm you?
It does not matter. Where are you?
Deepstone. Where your Maman is coming. But, for some reason, I cannot scent you. Where are you?
I am up in a very high cave.
I will keep searching until I find you.
No! Please, Baya, I could not bear it if something were to happen to you.
And, I could not bear the same. That is why I must come.
Baya…
I was born to protect you.
Please be careful. The Mistress is a bodyshifter and can turn into an animal that could hurt you.
And, I am Draca Cat. It is the evil Mistress that should take care.
They burned Citrine’s remains in the dark of night. When the Void finally rolled past, they retraced their route north and discovered her body lying on the road not far from them.
Citrine’s face looked tortured, even in death, and Kiernan wondered at the clumps of hair missing from the sorceress’ scalp until she saw the dark strands waving from the grips of her closed fists. Sapphire told them that once The Void had Citrine in its grasp, its single purpose would have been to devour her mind. To hammer her psyche with unspeakable torment.
Fortunately, as soon as the Void claimed its victim, it began to dissipate and Kiernan was grateful that the dark sorcery would not be able to continue roaming the island, killing indiscriminately.
Exhausted both mentally and physically over the death of their friend, the despondent party collected stones to serve as a pyre and placed Citrine reverently upon it. Rogan cast the fire that ignited her body in a mantle of flame. An emotional Diamond offered words of remembrance of her sister and Sapphire led the Highworld prayer.
Once finished, the group quickly set up camp for the night and rolled into their bedrolls without conversation. Sleep did not come easy for Kiernan. Highworld willing, she would be reunited with her daughter soon, and the prospect set her heart racing in her chest. She longed to hold her baby girl in her arms again, the burning desire to remove her from harm’s way thudding through her body.
That it would prove difficult was an understatement. Avalon Ravener had the advantage. This was her game, her rules. Since she reappeared, it seemed like they had no alternative but to keep stumbling along in her wake while she pulled all the strings. What black magic would she throw at them next? Another Sea of Void? Something new and more sinister? The tables had to be turned so that they were on the offensive instead of simply reacting to the snares the witch placed in their path. Her last thought before sleep claimed her was that they needed to change the rules of the game.
She said as much to the others as soon as they awoke the next morning.
“What do you propose?” asked Airron, his purple eyes questioning.
“You said she is in a cave, Airron, and if we go after her there, she will just pick us off one at a time. Somehow, we have to get her to come out to us. Then, Sapphire can issue a binding spell, and I can mindshift her.”
“So, how do we get the bat out of the belfry?” asked Diamond.
“Bait,” Airron answered, his eyebrows raised toward Kiernan. “Tell me I am right.”
She smiled for the first time in a long time. “I did hear that Elves can run pretty fast.”
“Like lightening when there is an evil sorceress on our ass.”
“If I had any other choice, Airron, I would not ask it of you.”
“And, I would be offended if you hadn’t.”
“It is settled then,” said Rogan. “We serve up the Elf.”
Beck came awake slowly with the oddest sensation. Feather-like touches traveled up his leg, chest and then stopped just below his neck. Disoriented, he opened one eye and cautiously lifted his head. A hairy, mouth with two lethal fangs was reaching for his throat.
“Ah!!!” Beck screamed and swatted the offensive creature away. He jumped to his feet in fright and sprinted from the tent.
Loud guffaws rang out.
He turned his head with a growl.
Odawa was running away from him and two other male Malakai were bent over in laughter.
Beck looked down. A Puuvian Goliath Arachnid was skittering away from the tent on spindly legs and a body at least two spans in length. The spider, native to the Puu Rainforest, was deadly. A single bite could kill a man within moments without the intervention of a very skilled healer.
He glared at Odawa in disbelief. “Are you crazy? That thing could have killed me!”
The Malakai continued their ridicule with words and gestures that no language barrier could disguise. Keeping his temper in check, he bent to retrieve his pack. With luck, the mixture was ready and he could leave these prankster apes behind.
For the first time, Beck noticed that the rest of the village was empty, and he was alone with his three harassers. “Where are the rest of the Malakai?” he questioned.
“Hunt. Work. Malakai not soft like humans!”
Beck looked up at the sky and through the rainclouds, he could see that the sun was directly overhead. He had slept for hours! “Demons hell, Odawa, I slept too late!” he complained in a panic. “Is the mixture ready?”
“Done for hours.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” he demanded angrily.
Odawa let his tongue loll out of his mouth and made a snoring noise. “Apprentice very sleepy.” This elicited more laughter from his cohorts.
That was it. Beck threw down his pack and stalked toward the Malakai. Immediately, their laughter stopped. Thrusting out his hand, a ball of dirt erupted out of the ground and rotated in the air in front of him as he walked.
The Malakai stepped back warily.
With a flick of his wrist, Beck sent the gritty orb screaming toward Odawa’s head. Beck’s tormenter shrieked in fright and ducked, but the earthen missile circled around and sped toward Odawa again.
The Malakai lifted his hands and ran in an attempt to avoid the ball of dirt, but the ground beneath him suddenly heaved and he fell hard amid useless, flailing arms. Beck hovered the ball directly over Odawa and then let it fall, dirt and pebbles peppering down on top of the Malakai’s head. “There is plenty more where that came from, Odawa. I may only be a Mage apprentice, but I am a master earthshifter. Lead me to the training now or you will be eating that dirt!”
This time it was at Odawa that the others wailed in laughter.
Odawa stood and wiped the dirt from his head and furred shoulders. Walking past Beck, he snapped his large teeth at him aggressively. “Follow Odawa for training.”
“Now, was that so hard?” Beck asked with a grin.
Odawa led him to the three teepees under the wooden structure. Flora from the jungle encroached on the areas around and between the tents, and it did not look as though anybody had been inside for a very long time.
“Must enter first tent, apprentice,” Odawa instructed, pointing to the tent on the far right.
Beck looked at the small tent in confusion. “Mage training is in a teepee?”
“Must enter first tent,” Odawa repeated. “First tent for learn.” He pointed to the middle tent. “Second tent for observe.” His arm swung to
the last tent. “Third tent for experience. That is all know of Mage custom.”
Beck sighed. He would get no further answers from the Malakai. Best to simply do as instructed so he could get this over as quickly as possible. He strode toward the first tent, and Odawa said, “Go to your death bravely, apprentice.”
Beck turned his head sharply, but Odawa had turned and was walking away. With a snarl, he reached out to the tent opening and ducked inside. The tent was empty except for a small circle of stones on the dirt floor and a tin cup filled with a dark liquid placed in the center.
Was someone actually going to join him? Would it be a Mage as Odawa suggested or someone else? Resigned to the fact that he would have to wait, he sat on the ground and crossed his legs. There was little room to do anything else, and he again wondered how training was to be conducted in such a small space. Surely, the practice of spells and other forms of sorcery would be involved.
The minutes ticked by and the sweat poured down his face and back from sitting in the hot tent, but still no one appeared. Beck looked at the tin cup again. Was he supposed to drink it? Was this the mysterious mixture he waited so long for? Suddenly, an overwhelming thirst came over him and he was compelled to reach for the cup. Compelled to drink its contents. Unable to stop himself, he picked up the cup and in one swift motion, downed the drink. Almost immediately, his eyes grew heavy and his body slumped to the side.
It seemed to Beck that he had been unconscious for hours when the foggy layers of sleep slowly began to dissipate, and he came awake. He was no longer in the tent. That much was immediately obvious as a strong, cooling breeze ruffled his hair and clothing. His mind and body still drowsy, he forced himself to sit up.
The landscape was desolate, similar to the terrain of western Deepstone, yet different. Gone were the lush forests, grasses and rivers of Haventhal. This place was barren of vegetation of any kind or people or buildings or roads. There was nothing in sight at all except an endless sea of red sandstone in every direction.
It was eerie to feel like he was the only living thing left in the world.
Had the Malakai moved him here while he slept?
Beck cupped his hands to his mouth. “Is anybody there?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he clamped it shut, realizing that it might be unsafe to be speaking aloud in the pall of silence hanging over the land. It was uncertain what kind of animal or other danger he could attract by making his presence known.
The frustration of not knowing what was going on was unbearable, and he gritted his teeth until he thought they would break. He cast out with his magic to see what he could discover of the place where he now stood, but found nothing but stone.
“Apprentice!”
Beck turned toward the voice. A towering, hooded figure in all white guided toward him, his hands lost in the folds of his wide-sleeved cloak.
All he could do was stare.
“You do speak, do you not?” the man asked, voice deep and rumbling.
Beck nodded, then decided he should prove it. “Yes, of course.”
The cloaked figure removed his hood and Beck saw immediately that he was an Elf. “I am Mage Arias Sarphia.”
“Arias Sarphia?” Beck asked in surprise. “The original Savitar?”
The Mage bowed his head. “I am, and I will be your guide for Mage training. The instructors are waiting for you.” He held out a long-fingered hand. “Shall we?”
“But…but, aren’t you dead?” As he asked the question, he thought of the odd phrase Odawa uttered to him before he entered the tent. Had he really gone to his death? Was he at this very moment standing in the Highworld?
Arias gave a deep chuckle. “Life exists in many dimensions, my apprentice. Death in one world simply translates to life in another.”
“Am I dead? I mean…in my old world?”
“No. This dimension exists for a specific purpose. You are a guest here and you will return to your world when your education is complete.”
Beck thought of something. “Is Galen Starr here as well? Will he be part of my training?”
“No. Mage Starr is off in another realm at the moment, but he does send his high regards.”
Disappointed, Beck nodded.
When the giant turned to go, Beck said, “Mage, I really must hur…”
The figure waved a hand in the air. “Yes, yes, you are in a hurry. You all say that.”
“All? There are more?”
“Oh, I have not seen an apprentice come through in centuries, but men are all the same. Impatient. Rash. Self-Centered. This century or the next, you are all the same.”
“But, you do not understand. My daughter is missing.”
“Yet, you are here?”
“I am hoping that becoming a Mage will allow me to save her,” he admitted.
“Then, why are you still talking?”
Beck did not know what to say.
“With wisdom comes patience, apprentice. Your training is over when it is over and not a moment before. Come.”
Beck reluctantly followed behind and where he originally thought he was standing in the middle of a flat endless surface of rock, he could now see that they were on the lip of a deep stone valley. Beck looked down from the precipice and below was a city unlike any he had ever seen. The buildings were sleek and angular, with rows and rows of windows, and the roads were covered with a black, unfamiliar substance. Lights on tall poles lit the entire city in a brilliant glow as hundreds of white-robed figures glided from one building to the next.
“The first part of your journey is to learn,” Arias informed him as he started down. “Here you will learn all there is to know of shifting, sorcery, and defense. A Mage must be the master of all.”
Walking behind his guide, Beck had a chance to study the inhabitants of the city. All were men and most of advanced age if the heads of gray were any indication. Wrapped in their cloaks of white, he assumed that they were his instructors. When they saw him approach with Arias, they stopped what they were doing to stare. It was obvious that he was the object of their interest and a general excitement rippled through the air as they pointed and smiled.
“I told you, it has been a while since we have had an apprentice. Be prepared to be inundated. Your training is about to begin.”
True to Arias’ word, the instructors descended on him in an ocean of white and swept him toward one of the strange windowed buildings. He was led to a massive room that seemed even bigger due to the windows that covered the entire western wall. The instructors called it the preparation room, but it looked to Beck like any traditional classroom with student desks, diagramed reference charts, slate and chalk.
As soon as he sat down, the time raced by at a hectic pace as the lessons began by one instructor after another. First was a review of the rudiments of the four metamagics of shifting taught to him at the Parsis Academy, but then the education branched into different forms of shifting that he did not know existed.
There was metalshifting that allowed a shifter to forge raw metal into finished products. Instead of using tools to hammer, bend and cut the material, a metalshifter used his magic to heat and mold the object into the desired shape. It made him wonder if the more renowned metallurgists in Deepstone were actually using metalshifting and unaware that their magic was involved.
Sightshifting was a unique ability that allowed shifters to create lifelike illusions. One instructor created a likeness of Beck that looked incredibly real, even down to the gestures Beck used. When he reached out to touch the illusion, it disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Weathershifting could cause changes in the island’s weather patterns, and feralshifting allowed a summoner to communicate with animals. This, Beck suspected, was the shifting ability of the Elves and must be why Airron could never learn the magic. He was already a bodyshifter, and a shifter could only master one form of shifting, the most dominant ability presenting first.
He learned how airshifting manipulated the currents in th
e air to move objects, create tunnels of air, and even allowed the practitioner to fly. Kenley would be able to fly! He was not quite sure how he felt about that, but was grateful that he could at least now instruct her on the safe use of her magic.
He was not surprised to learn that there were also more sinister forms of shifting like the spiritshifting of Adrian Ravener, dreamshifting that allowed a shifter to stalk a person’s nightly dreams and torment them while they lay powerless to prevent the intrusion, and soulshifting that provided the ability to steal a person’s very soul.
In this world where Beck now existed and trained relentlessly, he did not eat or sleep nor did he feel the need to. The hours turned into days, and he was only able to mark the passage of time by the stubble growing on his chin.
From shifting, the focus moved on to a vigorous indoctrination in the arts of sorcery. He learned the principles of every spell, curse and incantation known to the Mage. He discovered that it was a hover spell that Adrian Ravener used in the Demon War when he appeared to fly, not a form of airshifting.
He learned the art of healing and how to prepare alchemical potions including the LifeFire Tonic that Avalon Ravener was so desperate to have as it could extend life by hundreds of years.
All that he learned was unlike the education of his youth at the Academy where he remembered only half of what he was taught, if he was lucky. This training by the Mages became entrenched in the very marrow of his bones, and everything he learned, he was told, would be an arsenal easily within reach his entire life.
As his mind and body filled with more knowledge and wisdom, he knew he was becoming something more, and maybe even dared to use the word superior.
When the sorcery education concluded, Arias Sarphia reappeared. It had been days since he had last seen the Mage.
“I was beginning to think I would not see you again,” Beck commented sourly.
“As I told you, I am your guide and will not leave you for the duration of your education.”
“Mage…”
Arias held up a hand. “It is over when it is over, apprentice.” The Elf led him out of the preparation room and back outside toward an enormous circular building. “You must now prove to us that what you have learned can be translated into skill.” Arias held open a large, arched wooden door, and Beck went through cautiously.
Island Shifters: Book 02 - An Oath of the Mage Page 23
