The Last Warrior: Shifters Unbound Book 13

by Ashley Jennifer

  Ben studied Rhianne. Would today’s battle sever the mate bond that had begun between them?

  As the Shifters closed in on the ring of trees, Ben wondered what Dylan had in mind. They were preparing for an attack, but an attack of what? The ground inside the circle remained empty.

  The Shifters milled uneasily as they advanced, holding to their groups, but growling their impatience. They liked to strike, shred, and get back to sleeping in the sun or having sex with their mates, not do a prolonged stalk.

  Rhianne was silent, occasionally ruffling her feathers or stretching out her wings to keep her balance.

  Dylan gave the great barking growl of a lion, and the Shifters halted, quieting.

  Dylan shifted back to his human form. Andrea darted forward and handed him something, then retreated to stand with Sean and the other Guardians, who were still in human form, and Zander, who’d shifted to polar bear. Sean held his sword loosely in front of him, and Pierce and Rae had drawn theirs.

  Ben understood what Dylan was doing. Someone needed to open the gate in the ley line, and Dylan had volunteered himself. Andrea must have handed him a Fae talisman, since something Fae had to be used to open the gate. Strong Shifters—Ronan, Spike, Liam, Ellison—surrounded Dylan to protect him from whatever waited for them on the other side.

  Dylan’s task was more dangerous than that of any other Shifter today, and by the tension in his shoulders, he was fully aware. But there was no other way. They had to find Tiger and stop the threat before it fully manifested.

  It spoke much of Dylan that he did not command another Shifter to do this. Glory hovered near the edge of the trees, her gray wolf’s eyes riveted on him. She’d be next to him, Ben knew, but Dylan had likely ordered her to stay back.

  Dylan moved the piece of silver in his hand to the place where the gate should be.

  “Knock knock,” Ben heard Sean mutter. “Anyone home?”

  A high-pitched whine sprang to life, growing louder and more piercing by the second. Shifters, with their superior hearing, cringed and snarled, shaking heads and trying not to flee from the noise. Dylan held his ground but snapped at the Shifters around him to get back.

  Once the whine passed beyond human hearing range, but not Shifters’, the ripple of magic that had swallowed Tiger blasted from the point, enveloping all Shifters, including the Guardians and Zander, within it.

  They slowed, and stopped, suspended in mid-leap, shake, or howl. Silence dropped like a switch had been thrown.

  Ben, Rhianne, and the goblin family, in the rear, backpedaled from the ripples, which ceased a foot away from them.

  Carly and friends cried out from the porch, as did other mates and cubs who’d been watching from a safe distance. Rhianne added her eagle’s screech to their screams.

  Ben’s heart pounded as he scanned the circle. The Shifters faded with each pulse of the ripple, as though thick glass layered itself over them.

  “Son of a bitch,” Darren muttered.

  The ripples parted. Out of them strode a tall man, his long red hair glowing like fire, a circlet of silver on his head.

  “Daughter.” His voice boomed across the green. He walked past the unmoving, dimming Shifters, ignoring them utterly. He halted a few yards from where Ben held Rhianne, the goblins hovering behind them.

  “That word tastes foul in my mouth,” Ivor de Erkkonen sneered. “I’ve known your secret for some time now, Rhianne. You will come with me at once, or all of these creatures …” He waved disdainfully at the Shifters. “They will die. So will the goblin.” He fixed eyes blacker than night on the eagle.

  “Choose.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rhianne launched herself skyward, the shriek of her eagle rending the air as rage boiled inside her.

  How dare Ivor threaten her mate? How dare he threaten all the friends she’d made in her stay here, and all their mates and cubs. How dare he terrorize and threaten her mother.

  She brought a word of power to mind. Could she use it in this form, when she couldn’t speak?

  As Ben might say, worth a shot.

  Rhianne felt the force of the word welling up inside her. When the piercing cry came out of her mouth she realized that the syllables of it didn’t matter. It was the intent, the will, that contained the magic.

  The power flew straight at Ivor, who watched it speed toward him without concern.

  This word had shriveled the snakes Ivor had sent, rendering them ash. Ivor, on the other hand, calmly batted it aside with a word of his own.

  The wave of power split and crashed into the thick, suspended ripples of nothing. Bits of the magic that contained the Shifters splintered off, and the magic of the words died.

  Rhianne blinked. She’d known Ivor was strong, but he’d countered her without breaking a sweat.

  A cold smile spread over Ivor’s face, and he shouted another word of power back to her.

  Rhianne rent the air with her wings, flying frantically out of the way. The light from Ivor’s magic flashed past her, singeing the tips of her feathers. Rhianne lost her balance but thrust out her wings, catching the wind to soar high. The power the word unleashed struck a large rock that was instantly pulverized.

  Rhianne looked down as she flew, her eagle vision sharply focusing on one thing at a time. Ivor, gloating. Ben, roaring his fury, charging him. And a hoch alfar who stepped out of the rift that led to Faerie, an arrow knocked to his bow.

  The hoch alfar took aim at Rhianne, and shot.

  Hoch alfar were famous for their archery. Walther le Madhug was a legend even other hoch alfar admired. He’d won many honors with his ability, and he’d boasted to Rhianne about the number of animals he’d slaughtered with his skill.

  Rhianne dove as soon as she spotted Walther, and so wasn’t where his arrow had been aimed, but her feathers ruffled in the breeze of its passing.

  Her rage honed to one thought, as sharp as her eagle’s vision. Walther, who’d kidnapped her from her mostly peaceful existence and thrust her in a dungeon to await his evil intentions—Walther, she could kill.

  She streaked toward him, turning at the last minute to drive her talons at his face. Walther smacked at her in panic with his bow, and in the next instant, Ivor blasted Rhianne with another word of power.

  Rhianne dodged but the power dealt her a glancing blow. She tumbled end over end down the green, only saving herself from crashing as a mess of bones and feathers by hurriedly thrusting out her wings and gliding to the ground. She wished she’d had more time for flying lessons before this.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, a roll that went on for some time. The clouds on the horizon had drawn closer, the sky blue-black in all directions.

  Rhianne righted herself. She’d been flung a long way from the ring of trees, almost to the end of the houses that lined the common. One of the houses bore a picture window, through which she spied the white-haired boy, Olaf, watching her with wide black eyes.

  As Rhianne shook out her wings and regained her equilibrium, Olaf waved.

  Behind him was Tiger-girl, her wildness barely contained, her golden gaze meeting Rhianne’s.

  Find him.

  Rhianne understood the growl that she couldn’t truly hear. Another rumble of thunder sounded, as though Tiger-girl’s demand had triggered it.

  Rhianne acknowledged them both with her eagle’s cry, then shot into the air with renewed strength, winging back to the battle.

  * * *

  Fear and fury rose in Ben as he watched Ivor’s magic hurl Rhianne away. His heart beat again when he saw her catch herself and land without mishap, and his anger roiled anew.

  Fuck this crap. It was time a Tuil Erdannan found out what happened when he enraged a goblin.

  Ben didn’t bother, like Shifters, to undress. When Ben took on a new form, he didn’t actually shift, he simply became it.

  One of his forms resembled a redoubtable ancient tree. The other was a monster from hell.

  Ben’s clothes s
imply vanished. His body changed in an instant from that of the affable Ben with cool ink to a giant, massively muscled, hard-faced, hard-skinned, hideous nightmare.

  Goblins were creatures of the forests, rising from the bones of the earth and the roots of trees. Dokk alfar often claimed they were the oldest race in Faerie, but goblins had been there to watch dokk alfar—the dark Fae, the iron workers, the thorn in the hoch alfar’s flesh—emerge from their caves.

  Goblins were born of the earth itself, creatures from the dawn of time, guardians of the forests. They’d grown into immensely magical beings who lived for centuries and hid their true natures.

  They’d become complacent, Ben had witnessed, certain they were too strong for the hoch alfar to throw down.

  Ben himself had been flattered when the dokk alfar had asked him to create the karmsyern, which he, drawing on the magics of rocks and trees, plus the iron flowing in a molten river far beneath the surface, could easily create. Why not build a talisman that could stop the hoch alfar from destroying the dokk alfar? Why not enjoy being a total pain in the hoch alfar’s ass?

  The humans had a saying: Pride goeth before a fall. And fall the goblins had done.

  Not entirely, though. Ben had survived. As had Millie, and with her, her sons.

  Millie had removed her glasses once more and set down her purse. Darren and Cyril were already changing.

  Ben didn’t wait for them. He sprinted for Ivor, liking the surprise on the Tuil Erdannan’s face to see a wall of dark-muscled fury barreling straight at him.

  Ivor tried another word of power. Ben broke the flash of it with his fist.

  A roll of thunder boomed across the land. Maybe they’d get lucky and Ivor would be struck by lightning.

  Ben immediately thought of a way to make the annoying Tuil Erdannan a lightning rod. It would hurt Ben too, but what the hell?

  Conditions had to be right, though. For now, Ben would settle for simply beating the shit out of the guy.

  Ivor shouted as Ben neared him. Not a word of power, but a bellow of rage. He drew a slender sword that glowed with magic.

  Next to him, Walther le Idiot shot arrows rapidly at Ben. Each glanced off Ben’s hard body. Moron.

  You can shoot at an ancient tree or a rock all you want. We don’t care.

  Ben yelled his own war cry and slammed himself into Ivor. Ivor, a seasoned warrior, kept to his feet, spun from Ben, and struck him with his sword. The magic in it cut and bruised Ben’s hide, and damn it, that hurt.

  Ben bashed at Ivor with his fists, a boxer fighting a swordsman. He’d have laughed any other time.

  Ivor had grown larger. He now matched Ben in height, wielding his sword in expert strokes. Ben would have to break the sticker before he could take Ivor down.

  Walther had given up trying to help Ivor with Ben and started shooting at the other three goblins. Darren and Cyril laughed, and from the corner of his eye, Ben saw the two catching arrows and breaking them. Millie caught them too but set them neatly aside. Walther was probably about to pee his pants.

  Rhianne, with the cry of her wild eagle, soared toward them. She passed overhead, ducking within the ring of trees, and plunged her talons toward Ivor.

  Walther swung around, rapidly fitting his bow with another arrow, and Rhianne had to swerve out of his way.

  Ivor slapped the bow down. “Leave her alive.”

  Walther dropped the bow, but a cunning look crossed his face. He reached up and abruptly grabbed at Rhianne, trying to catch her bodily.

  He got scratched with talons for his troubles. Walther stumbled back with a curse, blood on his arms, then he snatched up his bow to beat her away from him.

  “Keep them off me,” Ivor yelled at him.

  Walther wiped away the streaming blood and resumed shooting arrows at the other goblins as Ben went for Ivor.

  “Enough!” Ivor grew still taller, the might of the Tuil Erdannan flowing from him.

  He roared another word of power, and Ben’s entire body suddenly burst into flame.

  Rhianne shrieked. She hurled herself between Ivor and Ben, the impact knocking Ben aside. Ivor reached for her, but Rhianne repulsed him with her talons and flapped hard skyward.

  Ben had no choice but to get the hell away from the trees, drop to the ground, and roll around like a fool. He let his body shrink back to his human form—less surface area to burn.

  His tough skin had deflected the fire so that when he rolled in the damp dirt, he came away with only a few minor singes. They stung like hell though.

  “Asshole,” Ben snarled as he gained his feet. “You trying to take me out a millimeter at a time?”

  That could be exactly what Ivor wanted to do, Ben realized. Ivor couldn’t strike down the tough goblin, but he could dismantle him a chink here and a chink there.

  Rhianne circled high above, her cries full of anger and anguish. The goblins were busy dodging arrows from the maniacal hoch alfar. Ivor had returned to the circle of trees. Ben needed to get back there and stop whatever evil Ivor was planning.

  Thunder rumbled.

  Chime.

  The clear tone of Lady Aisling’s crystal vibrated the air.

  “Shit.” Ben started to reach for his pocket and remembered he wasn’t wearing any clothes. He called them back from the ether, the sudden feel of denim and cotton heavy on his skin.

  Chime!

  Ben dug the crystal from his pocket, where it still resided. “Lady A.?” he yelled.

  “Yes, it is I. Where is my daughter?”

  Ben gazed up at the speck in the sky that was Rhianne. “I’d say about a thousand feet up. Maybe fifteen hundred. Hard to tell. Are you okay?”

  “I am well, now that my unlamented husband has departed. I managed to throw him out, with the help of my staff.”

  “Good. We were about to charge in and rescue you.”

  “Which would have been quite futile. Ivor can easily obliterate you. He is keeping Rhianne alive on purpose.”

  “Yeah, I figured. He wants to use her to create more Tuil Erdannan Shifters.”

  “He does, indeed.” Lady Aisling’s sigh came over the crystal. “I thought by not explaining her origins, I was keeping her safe. She never showed any signs of the Shifter in her, and I believed Ivor remained ignorant. But it seems I was wrong.”

  “What happened to Rhianne’s real father?”

  “Happened?” Lady Aisling’s tone turned perplexed. “Nothing happened to him. He’s alive and well, in France. We meet from time to time.”

  Explained all her shopping trips to Paris, then. “Are you really all right? Dickhead—I mean, Ivor—didn’t hurt you?”

  “He did hurt me, but I weathered it. Am weathering it. What I need for you to do is keep my daughter safe. It is what I have charged you with.” Her voice turned steely. “Don’t fail me, Ben.”

  “I want her safe more than you understand. Any hints on how to fight your ex?”

  “With magic. Lots and lots of magic. Your Tiger man should be able to help.”

  “Tiger man is down. Or at least, trapped in some sort of warped air, or space, or whatever.”

  “Is he?” Lady Aisling’s tone became thoughtful. “Or is he?”

  “I don’t know. Can’t see anything. What kind of magic can we use? Does Rhianne have it?”

  “She has more than she believes. It is why Ivor wants to trap and use her.”

  “Noted. Any way you can cross over to this world and help us bring him down?”

  “That would be a mistake,” Lady Aisling said decidedly. “If he and I began to battle there, it might destroy half the human world. I rather like that world the way it is.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Ben said.

  “Then we understand each other. Do take—”

  She broke off as a male voice cut over hers, growling words in Tuil Erdannan Ben didn’t understand.

  “Who the hell is that?” Ben demanded.

  Lady Aisling returned. “My gardener, Akseli. He is being
very solicitous of me. Insists I cease speaking to you and rest. My housekeeper is glaring daggers, so I will go. Bring my daughter to me in one piece.”

  With that admonition, the crystal in Ben’s hand went silent. Ben held it up to the light, studying it a moment, before he heaved a sigh and tucked it once more into his pocket.

  When he turned to the ring of trees, he found Ivor watching him, having heard the entire conversation. Ben saw a spark of—was it fear?—in his eyes.

  Was he afraid of Lady Aisling? Any sane man would be. Or her instructions? Or the crystal itself? Something to think about.

  Ben vanished his clothes and burst back into his goblin form. His stretching skin hurt where it had burned, splintering Ben’s already shredded temper.

  Ivor’s energy was building—Ben could feel it in the earth, in the tingle of the ley line.

  Shit, the ley line. Ivor, the bastard, was going to tap the magic of the ley line, part of a magical net that encircled the world. Who the hell knew what would happen if he did that?

  Best never to find out.

  Ben charged at the circle, batting aside the arrows fired at him. Walther really needed to get a new hobby.

  Ivor had to know the arrows wouldn’t penetrate Ben’s flesh, but a good archer could slow Ben down and give Ivor time to do what he wished. Ben couldn’t turn aside and whack Walther back to his ancestry without losing the chance to stop Ivor.

  He heard Rhianne bellow a shrill cry, saw her turn to skim herself at Walther. Walther let loose arrow after arrow, and Rhianne spun and dodged. She was drawing his fire, Ben realized, so the other goblins and Ben could get to Ivor.

  Ben dashed into the circle of trees. At the same time the sky seared with lightning. Thunder crashed, once more shaking the ground.

  Ivor turned, sword in hand. “Give her up. You can’t win.”

  “It’s not up to me,” Ben said. “Rhianne makes her own decisions.”

  “You know little about Tuil Erdannan women. Or Shifter women, for that matter. Without their mates, they are nothing.”