An Oath Of The Kings (Book 4)

by Valerie Zambito

  Once in line, the two men next to him gave him a cursory look, but otherwise did not say anything.

  Taking that as a good sign, Airron pushed his way through to the front. Taller than most of those around him, he looked over the heads of the soldiers to where Lady Morningstar sat calmly atop her Palomino mare from the safety of the back of the army. A ring of officers surrounded her.

  Airron mentally reviewed his cache of forms—the ones left to him after his fight with Rogan, anyway—and tried to decide which one would accomplish the deed and still give him a chance of getting out alive. He finally decided on his Goliath Arachnid. As long as he didn’t get stepped on, he could scuttle over, jump up and bite her leg and be off.

  He didn’t get that far.

  Something very hard collided with the back of his skull and buckled his legs at the knees. He crashed face first into the dirt and all went dark.

  ****

  Rayan galloped out of the woods at the head of his army of Falcons. It had taken them two days to circumvent the Dwarves and Elves surrounding the city and get into position in the Grayan Forest north of their armies.

  One of his soldiers suddenly stood in his stirrups. “Up ahead!” he shouted, pointing to a small detachment of what looked to be Elves. Upon closer inspection, Rayan realized they were the camp followers.

  He slowed to a trot allowing a Falcon officer to ride up next to him. “They’re all yours, Lieutenant.”

  The officer blanched. “Are you mad? Those aren’t soldiers!”

  “Your point?”

  “You can’t expect us to attack noncombatants.”

  “I expect you to do as you are ordered, Falcon!” Rayan snarled.

  “There will be women in that group!”

  Rayan knew he had to appease the soldier’s blood oath. “There are also Gladewatchers, Lieutenant, and they have declared war on Iserlohn! Those Elves are here to murder our women. You must protect Iserlohn at all costs. You have your orders!”

  “You want us to—”

  “Ram those white-haired bastards right up the arse!”

  ****

  “Distasteful, I tell you,” Quincy groused, waving his white-gloved hands at the insects circling his head. “War is not a gentlemen’s business.”

  “Then, why are you here, Quincy?” Izzy asked.

  The look of horror on his face almost made her laugh.

  “I have been serving the Shael family ever since your mother was born, Izabel! When your Grandmaman asked me personally to serve the Lord and Lady Falewir, I could not very well refuse.” He cursed and swatted at another flying bug. “Your mother is like a daughter to me. Of course, little did I know that she would be Queen in my lifetime. It is an honor, but one I am not ashamed to say that I would prefer to enjoy within the confines of Haventhal.”

  Izzy sighed and rubbed her sore backside as the manservant continued to grumble. She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting here to the north of the main army, but it had been hours. Her father seemed to feel confident he could resolve this quickly and she hoped he was right. She just wanted this whole conflict over so she could go into the beautiful city of Nysa and see Kane.

  This begged the question. Why are we even here? She had asked several of the Gladewatchers, but none of them could offer up a satisfactory answer. Surely, Iserlohn doesn’t want a fight with us any more than we do them.

  “Izzy!”

  Izzy whirled around at the panicked shout from her guard, Elon Aubry.

  “Guard the Princess!” Elon screamed, and several Gladewatchers pressed their horses in close to circle her and Quincy.

  “Oh, dear,” Quincy muttered.

  “What’s going on, Elon?”

  She pointed. “Riders.”

  Izzy stood in her stirrups. Gray dust rose above a line of soldiers tearing directly their way. Her heart hammered in her chest as she wondered whether or not they were friendly. An image of the Ellvinians flashed in her mind, sending a jolt of fear-induced adrenaline racing through her bloodstream.

  “They’re not slowing,” Elon hissed. “Set up two lines, Gladewatchers!”

  Murmurs from the camp followers started to grow more concerned. Izzy glanced back at the main Haventhal army intentionally spaced a half a league away to allow for adequate distance from the fighting in the event her father’s negotiations failed. This small group with Izzy that was comprised of a hundred soldiers or so and another hundred followers—cooks, blacksmiths, farriers and servants—could not possibly be the target of an attack. Could they?

  “Should we go to the main army?” Quincy asked nervously.

  “No,” Elon answered. “The soldiers will be upon you before you can get there leaving you without protection.” She turned to the followers. “Hurry! Move behind the second line of Gladewatchers!”

  The followers dropped what they were doing to comply with Elon’s order. Hundreds of Elven feet sprinted over the ground in a white cloud of motion. The Gladewatchers directed Izzy and Quincy behind the followers in the rearmost position.

  “Arm yourselves as best you can!” Elon bellowed. “Feralshift, Elves of Haventhal! Feralshift for your lives!”

  “Oh, dear,” Quincy moaned once again.

  Fear coursed through Izzy as she scoured the Grayan with her magic. Deer, rabbits, birds. No! I need something with more teeth!

  The riders came on in a surge of hoof beats, close enough now that Izzy could see the gray and orange of their tunics. Soldiers of one of the Houses of Iserlohn, but she couldn’t remember which one.

  Izzy cast out further into the woods. There! A wolf! Not a Grayan, but it would do. She hurled out her magic and locked into the animal’s mind. Come!

  Elon forced her way inside the circle close to Izzy and thrust a short sword into her hand. “You know how to use this. Don’t hesitate.”

  Izzy gripped the hilt in her hand. “I won’t. How many are there?”

  “I don’t know, but they outnumber us. Just stay within your circle of protection. If the Gladewatchers fall and as a last resort only, ride like a demon for the main army.”

  She nodded.

  The wolf sprinted through the woods, winding sinuously through trees and brush in a desperate struggle to answer her summons. Other animals moved with the wolf now. A silent, menacing army coming closer.

  Izzy grasped her horse’s reins in her left hand and held the sword in her right. The mounts of her Gladewatcher protectors danced and snorted in agitation. She glanced at Quincy who now looked about three shades paler. “Have you called an animal yet?”

  He swallowed and shook his head.

  “Why? Call one now, Quincy!”

  “I…I can’t.”

  “You can’t? Do you…? You can’t feralshift?”

  He nodded his head.

  “After all the grief you gave Father over the years?” she asked incredulously.

  “I couldn’t feralshift a frog,” he admitted glumly. One of the soldiers handed Quincy a sword and he almost dropped it.

  “Stay with me, then. I’ll protect you.”

  “Oh, no, Your Grace,” he said, hefting his sword awkwardly. “I will not let Melania Shael’s daughter be harmed on my watch.”

  There was no time to debate the issue further. The Iserlohn soldiers were near enough for Izzy to see the Falcon sigil on the front of their tunics. And, they’re not stopping.

  Out in front to meet them was the first line of fifty or so Gladewatchers, sitting bravely on their mounts, spears and swords held at the ready. Elon, in the second line of defense, made a hand signal and one of the few fireshifting Elves in the army sent a warning fireball into the air.

  The Iserlohn soldiers did not flinch.

  The faint sounds of howls and growls could be heard now, barely audible above the pounding horses.

  Izzy sucked in a deep breath and held it. Stop! Please stop!

  Her silent plea went unanswered. The soldiers came on and crashed right through the Elven first li
ne. Bodies flew through the air and were crunched under hooves. Screams rang out. Izzy watched helplessly as men on horseback slashed down at the Elves who had fallen. They in turn reached up to grab men from their mounts. Metal screeched as swords met. Sparks flew as the Elves fought for their lives.

  The Gladewatchers around her muttered curses of anger.

  “Go, help them!” Izzy screamed at them. “Don’t worry about me!”

  One Elf, spurred by her cry, thudded his heels into the ribs of his horse and took off. The rest stayed, refusing to abdicate their duty.

  Many of the Falcon soldiers made it through the fighting mass and headed straight for the second line.

  Izzy knew it was only a matter of time before that line fell, too. Her first instinct to run as Elon had instructed her to do slammed up hard against a powerful force deep in her body and splintered to pieces. All fear flew from her mind as her blood oath roared for the first time in her life.

  During the Ellvinian invasion, Izzy never had to protect people. As the youngest of the Savitar children, it had always been others who had sheltered her.

  Not today.

  Today her blood oath would not be denied and it was stronger in her pureblood veins than in those of any other on the battlefield. Goose pimples raced up her arms. Every hair on her body stood straight up. Ancient magic coursed through her limbs.

  Izzy snarled as she watched the second line brace for the onslaught.

  “Move!” Izzy kicked her horse through her guards and raced ahead through the camp followers. The guards and Quincy shouted as they sped after her.

  When she finally broke free, she reined in her horse between the second line and the followers and waved her sword in the air. When the guards caught up to her, she said, “Make a third line!”

  “But, Your Grace!”

  “That is a royal command, Gladewatcher! We will defend these people or we will die trying!”

  Chapter 36

  Double Cross

  Rogan lifted a gauntleted fist, halting the Dwarves across from Morningstar’s rebel army. Earlier, he watched Airron’s hawk fly out over the battlefield but as of yet there had been no further sign of him. It didn’t bode well for his friend that the noble still lived.

  A path widened in the host of soldiers as the proclaimed Queen of Iserlohn made her way to the front of the army sitting atop a golden Palomino horse. Right behind her, beneath a flag of black and white, rode Gage Gregaros, the proclaimed King.

  Have they put aside their differences? Has one conceded leadership to the other?

  “Lady Morningstar!” Rogan shouted. “As King of the Dwarves, I hereby call for your execution in the unlawful murder of the Princess of Deepstone!”

  The woman had the nerve to smile contemptuously. One that said she was coming from a position of power.

  Gage pressed his horse past her before she could speak. “King Rogan. My sincere sympathies for the death of your daughter. However, your call for execution is denied.”

  Rogan growled bitterly. “Iserlohn finds the murder of a Dwarven Princess pardonable?”

  “Whatever you allege happened—”

  “Allege? I was there, Gregaros! I saw it happen.”

  Gage gave Elinor a weighty look, but ultimately must have felt it in the best interests of his people to back her. “If a crime was committed, we will deal with it in the appropriate manner, not on a battlefield.”

  “That wretched woman is the one that led us to this battlefield! Starting with the murders of three Kings! Or, is that, too, justifiable when it puts a crown on your head?”

  “The Kings? Whatever are you talking about, Radek?”

  Rogan pointed. “Ask the murderess behind you. She is the one working for the Mages who performed these vile acts.”

  Gage whirled his horse around. “Elinor? Is this true?”

  “Of course not,” she answered with a sneer and slid down from her golden horse. “I’m not working for the Mages. They’re working for me.”

  A snarling rumble ran through the soldiers of House Gregaros. For the first time, Rogan noticed the people lining the wall surrounding Nysa. Not all were soldiers, and they did not look at all pleased.

  Unaware—or uncaring—of these new witnesses, Lady Morningstar walked out in front of the army. “Yes, Gregaros, I did kill them. You have to take the King—or in this case, Kings—to win.”

  “This is a game to you? Killing innocents to secure the Iserlohn Crown?” he questioned loudly for all to hear. Gage was clearly not unaware.

  “Iserlohn? You really think my ambitions so petty? I don’t want Iserlohn! I want Massa!”

  Rogan exploded in fury. “The Dwarves and Elves would never lie down and let you take their lands!”

  “Oh, yes!” she screeched, spinning back to him. “Especially, when we rid them of their knights.” She gestured and two Falcons dragged Airron into the clearing.

  Rogan dropped down from his horse in a panic. “What have you done?”

  “The Savitars are now all that stand between me and the Crown of Massa.” She turned toward Gage. “And, a false King.”

  Chaos erupted as two Falcons dragged Gage Gregaros from his horse.

  “What are you doing?” the former Saber bellowed. “Elinor! Stop this!”

  The soldiers forced him to his knees, yanked his head back by his hair and slit his throat from ear to ear.

  Fire sprang to Rogan’s fingertips, but it was too late for Gregaros as the soldiers shoved him broken and bleeding to the ground. Fighting broke out between the Tigers, Falcons and Dragons.

  Officers raced through the crowd spreading Elinor Morningstar’s dogma. “Gregaros was a false King! The Dwarves and Elves have declared war! You will fight for Iserlohn!”

  “You’re just going to watch this, my King?” Teran growled, dismounting beside him.

  Rogan glanced over at the Iron Fist who would have become his son in marriage had Jala lived. He didn’t look well. Grief, fury, bloodlust. It was all there in his eyes. Just like mine.

  “No, I’m not.” Rogan strode in front of his army. “Enough! It is me you want, Lady Morningstar! Come and kill me if you can!”

  Elinor’s laugh could be heard over the struggling men. “It will be my pleasure, King of Dwarves.”

  ****

  Airron groaned in agony. A spot right behind his ear throbbed like a gong pounding inside his head. Harsh voices added to the stabbing pain. He felt like he was going to vomit, but mercifully blacked out instead.

  When he came to, he turned his head slowly to the left to try and focus on the dizzying smear that stood there. The rebel army. He cursed silently. And, me, flat on my back.

  The shouting grew louder. He recognized Gage’s voice. Demanding. Angry. The readying of metal. Then, Rogan asking Elinor Morningstar to kill him. I just love it when a plan works out.

  Lady Morningstar raised a gloved hand in the air and five soldiers stepped out in front of Rogan. Earthshifters and fireshifters by the look of them.

  Airron ignored the pain that still jabbed at his brain and melted away inside his stolen clothes. Shouts of alarm rang out as he disappeared. They had thought him dead, and Airron silently thanked Beck for the trick that made them think so. It didn’t involve magic. Or holding one’s breath. He simply had to look dead. Amazingly easy to pull off, really.

  His mouse form tunneled out from under the garments and scurried away across the field toward safety.

  A loud whoosh warned of the ball of fire careening along the ground behind. The mouse jumped in fright and skirted out of the way.

  On instinct, the bodyshifter beneath reached for his Grayan wolf but came up empty. Damn you, Rogan! Instead, he chose the Gangi dog for speed. The air flickered and his body expanded.

  The rebel fireshifter threw more flames, but missed. The earthshifter didn’t. The Gangi yelped in pain as a rock slammed into its right side, sending it into a forceful roll. Two of its ribs snapped with an audible crack.


  Then, Rogan was there, standing over him, protecting him and throwing fire at the shifters trying to kill him. Two of the men howled as they went up in flames and tried to smother the inferno scalding their bodies, but Airron knew there would be no putting out that fire.

  “Thanks, Torch,” Airron mumbled and lurched to his feet. He shifted. Into the giant mantath this time.

  Once again, fire and earth came hurtling forward in a barrage of destruction. Shifted magic slammed into the mantath’s thick hide, but this animal was able to shrug off the attack. The mantath lifted its long trunk to trumpet its rage before charging across the grass after the three shifters still alive. With a mighty sweep of its long snout, it connected with the fireshifter, sending him soaring through the air.

  The two earthshifters sprinted in close with long spears and used their formidable strength to slip the metal in between the armored plates of the mantath and pierce the flesh beneath. The mantath roared in distress as the spears sliced skin and punctured organs. It tried to shake the weapons loose, but the unyielding shifters pinned it in place.

  Airron’s shifting slipped from him and he collapsed to the ground. An alarmingly thick collection of blood pooled beneath him, but he couldn’t figure out how it got there. His vision blurred. A strange metallic taste filled his mouth. He tried to clear it away but couldn’t get the breath to do so.

  Then, the earthshifters stabbed him again.

  ****

  Rogan watched in horror as the spears thrust down into Airron’s body. Against orders, the Elves took to the field like flying white wraiths. Events slowed to a surreal pace for Rogan. How had this happened? He had come to Iserlohn, a place that held such fond memories, to hold a King’s Council and, yes, to seek justice for Erik, but he never imagined it would end like this. A race war. Beck and Kiernan missing. His daughter and grandchild dead. General Arsten dead. And, now Airron?

  A bolt from a crossbow took Rogan in the shoulder and he spun to the ground with a pained grunt. The Fists closed in, a forbidding wall of Dwarven fury, screaming, shifting, taking more shafts meant for him.