Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood

by Valerie Zambito

  Beck stared at him uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean?” he asked looking around and realizing how eerily quiet it suddenly seemed. Dead bodies, human and creature alike, were strewn across the encampment. “Hell,” he whispered under his breath. “Where is Anders? I sent Anders to round everyone up!”

  “Over there,” pointed Airron to Jon’s corpse. There he was, blonde curls matted with blood and lying face down with his own sword through his back.

  Beck was dazed. All of the legionnaires and the first wave of attackers were dead.

  Kiernan squeezed his arm.

  “The entire Legion gone?” Beck muttered, running a hand through his hair as he continued to survey the area in disbelief.

  The buildings were engulfed in flames now.

  “Just the four of us left standing, and we do not have time for discussion,” replied Airron, pointing toward the channel. “That fireshifter in black will be sending more troops in any moment.”

  Rogan looked at the mindshifted invader and thrust his thumb out. “What about him?”

  Beck thought for a moment. “We take him with us,” he growled. “I want to learn more about why they are here and what their plans are. Can you keep him under your control, Kiernan?”

  She nodded and looked over at the creature, and he tilted his head to the side as he processed the telepathic thought she deftly inserted. Then, he turned and walked away from them.

  “What did you do?”

  “I told him to hurry and saddle five horses for us.”

  “Just tell him four,” said Beck, as he put a finger and thumb in his mouth to whistle.

  Within seconds, Chasin’s shiny black head appeared from the top of the valley and he raced down the hill toward Beck’s call. Beck ran out to meet the horse and swung up into the saddle. About to head back to the others, he heard a faint noise. It sounded like a cry for help.

  Abruptly, he hauled on Chasin’s reins and kicked the horse into action. Cantering over to where he thought he heard the wail, he dismounted quickly when he saw a small hand waving from under a much larger body. Beck shoved the dead man aside and there was Rory Greeley, bleeding from a gash on his head, but otherwise unhurt.

  Beck held out his hand, and the small voice said “Thank you, sir. I knew you wouldn’t leave me.”

  He smiled grimly and helped Rory up and onto Chasin. “No, I would not, Rory. Not if I could help it.”

  The enemy prisoner was returning with the mounts when Beck and Rory joined the others. Everyone was overjoyed to discover that another of the Legion had survived. “Now, we do need another horse,” said Rogan.

  “He can have mine,” said Airron, disrobing and stuffing his clothes into his pack. He threw it to Rogan when he was finished and shifted into a white stallion, arrogantly rearing up on his hind legs to paw at the air.

  The five riders and six horses sped away up the crest of the hill and then turned for one last look at the valley and the generations-old Northwatch Legion encampment.

  This time, they saw not the beauty of the bluffs, the waterfalls and the blue lake that they admired less than a day ago, but the smoldering fires of ruin and an unknown enemy swarming mercilessly over the land held by their forefathers for three hundred years.

  Hundreds of companies of the Legion, thousands of men.

  Troop 158 would be the last.

  Chapter 9

  FRIEND OR FOE?

  The sun was directly overhead before Beck slowed their hurried flight south towards Galen’s Pass. Up to that point, Kiernan had managed to maintain a steady stream of shifting to the prisoner, but he could see that she was tiring of the effort. Realizing how hard it was for her to concentrate on her magic while fleeing for her life, Beck finally called a stop.

  He swung a leg over Chasin and dismounted before the big horse had a chance to come to a full stop. Quickly rushing to Kiernan, he reached up to wrap his hands around her waist and helped her down. “Are you all right?” he asked worriedly, staring intently into her tired eyes.

  “I’m fine,” she said with a small smile.

  “Liar. Tell me, how long can you keep this up?” he asked, nodding toward their captive.

  She sighed. “Hours, if I have the ability to concentrate because the link requires periodic mental reinforcement.”

  Beck was impressed. He knew that for most mindshifters, a thought shifted to another person lasted for just a few moments. “And the shifted person cannot discard the thoughts you give them and act on their own, correct?”

  She shook her head and a strand of blonde hair tumbled over one eye. Beck used a finger to tuck the unruly tress back behind her ear. “No. Once I have established a connection, the receiver of the magic is blocked from having any independent thoughts during that time and is powerless to counter the directive of the simulated thought.”

  “Does the receiver know what is happening?” he asked. At the Academy, students concentrated on developing their own individual metamagic with the other forms of shifting covered in a very superficial manner only. There was no need for more since the magic users of Pyraan never exhibited aptitude in more than one ability.

  “Normally, no, because the shifting takes place so fast that the receiver just treats the foreign thought as one of their own. Again, with me, because I can cause such a large span of time to be under my control, people familiar with magic would know a mindshifter was involved.” She nodded her head to their catatonic captive. “Even without the knowledge of magic, this one will know that something untoward has happened because he will end up miles from where he last was and a prisoner of war no less. My shifting also leaves people a little unsteady, but this usually clears up quickly.”

  As if on cue, they both turned when they heard the captive moan with his head in his hands. “He is becoming free of my magic. Should I shift him again?” she asked wearily.

  “No, I want to get answers from him first if I can. Why don’t you try to rest?” She nodded gratefully and walked over to sit next to Rory on a fallen log by the roadside.

  Beck went to his pack and pulled out a piece of rope. “Help me tie him up,” he said to Rogan and Airron who, he was glad to note, had already shifted from his horse form and was dressed. Without hesitation, the two immediately walked over and dragged the large hostage off his horse to the ground. Beck quickly tied his hands in front of him.

  The creature, free now from the pseudo thoughts that were responsible for his every action since abandoning The Crown Bluffs, growled at Rogan and Airron and kicked out with his legs.

  “Easy, big boy,” said Airron. “In case you haven’t noticed, we are not the enemy here, you are.”

  The one-eyed invader glared at Airron but said nothing as he assessed his surroundings and captors with obvious mistrust.

  Beck paced back and forth in front of the prone figure, large pieces of dirt flying off his boots with every determined step. “What is your name?”

  Silence.

  “I know you speak our language because I heard you use it back at The Bluffs. What is your name?” Beck asked again, stopping in front of him.

  The captive glared up at him but again remained silent.

  Rogan appeared at Beck’s side, twin fireballs flaring to life in his palms. “Why bother with a monster like this, Beck? He is a murderer! I say kill him now before he brings more harm to the people of Massa!”

  This brought the prisoner upright into a sitting position. “I am not a monster!” he roared, struggling against his bindings.

  Rogan stalked over to the prisoner. If it was not such a serious situation, Beck might have laughed at the diminutive Dwarf glowering down at the seven-foot trespasser. Even sitting on the ground, the considerable difference in size was unmistakable. Rogan leaned over him. “Not a monster, eh? Then what do you call people who invade other lands and slaughter the people they find there? Where you come from, what do you call people who butcher innocent men? Answer me!”

  “Adrian Ravener,” he repli
ed.

  Beck heard Kiernan suck in her breath behind him. Beck’s suspicions were now confirmed. The man in black on the ship at The Bluffs was the centuries old Mage whose actions killed hundreds of thousands of people in the Mage War. Just like Galen Starr, the evil wizard was still alive.

  “I am not a monster,” the prisoner repeated. “My name is Titus and I am a Cyman. This is not our war, but we ‘ave no choice but to fight in it. It would be best if you surrendered to the Mage so that more of your people do not die needlessly.”

  Rogan let his fireballs dissipate. “What do you mean that this is not your war?”

  The Cyman turned his head and refused to answer.

  Rogan turned to Beck. “We should kill him.”

  Beck looked questioningly at his friend. “Since when do you talk about killing people so casually?”

  “You know, it’s a funny thing, Beck,” he snorted, “but, when people try to kill me and my friends, I tend to want to do it to them first before they succeed.”

  Beck nodded, knowing Rogan was right. These Cyman people declared war on Massa. There could be no doubt as to their intentions. Their brutal actions at The Bluffs by spilling the blood of young innocent Massans was unredeemable. Beck thought of Jon Anders’ body sprawled in the dirt.

  He stared at the prone figure.

  “What do you want?” he hissed through clenched teeth, reaching down and grabbing the shirt of the seven-foot Cyman with both fists and lifting him off the ground. The earth began to tremble along with his fury. Kiernan and Rory quickly stood when the log they were sitting on began to roll with the wave of disturbed soil.

  Even had the Cyman wished to reply, it would have been impossible with the steel grip Beck had under his throat. To his amazement, it was Rogan who diffused the situation by putting a hand on his shoulder. “Forget him, Beck. We will get the information we need one way or another. Right now, it is more important to return to Parsis and warn the others before it is too late.”

  His friend’s words pierced through his anger, and he reluctantly released the Cyman to fall back to the ground with a grunt. Walking over to Kiernan, he said, “I am sorry to ask, but can you please shift this creature so we can continue on?”

  “Of course,” she said and walked over to Titus, who was coughing hoarsely. The Cyman looked up at her with suspicion in his eye and then suddenly his face went slack, and he walked over to his horse and mounted with his hands still bound in front of him.

  The group renewed their swift ride, alternately running and walking the horses until darkness began to impede their travel, and Beck knew he had to find a place to stop for the night. They were all on the verge of collapse, but especially Kiernan who was swaying dangerously in her saddle. He scanned both sides of the road and found a shelter of trees that would provide a measure of concealment. “We will stop here and rest for a few hours,” he announced. “That is all the time we can afford to delay right now.”

  “About time,” grumbled Rogan, who did not waste any time swinging down from his horse. “Give me your leads and I will take care of the horses.”

  “No,” said Beck. “You have to take care of those burns on your arms before they get infected. There is salve and bandages in my pack. Kiernan can help you.”

  “What can I do, Lieutenant?” asked Rory.

  “You can take care of the horses, Rory, thank you.”

  Airron did not bother to dress when he offered to hunt rabbits for a quick meal and shifted into a sleek hawk.

  Beck walked into the sparse woods to find firewood. They were still more than a day from the foothills of the Balor Mountains, but Beck could see their mist-enshrouded tips in the distance to the south. Here, just north of the mountains, the terrain consisted mostly of wheat-colored scrub grass and large boulders interspersed with stunted Acacia Trees. The night was cooler than usual and Beck found himself wishing he had retrieved his cloak from his pack.

  Eying a modest caprock formation, he scrambled on top to get a view of their back trail. He did not believe that there was any chance that the Cymans could have caught up to them, but he did not want to underestimate an enemy he knew very little about.

  As his eyes roamed over the countryside, his gaze stopped on a darkened area in the middle of the wheat grass. It did not look like an animal or rock but something black—something man made. Curiosity got the better of him and he went over to investigate. As he neared, it appeared to be a piece of metal. Kneeling, he swept away the grass to get a better look and realized that it was some sort of grate that covered a very deep hole in the ground.

  This is odd, he thought. Why would there be a grate here in the middle of nowhere? He peered down into the hole and was surprised to see that it looked like someone had carved a stone slide into the earth. He pulled tentatively on the metal, but it held tight. With his power, he could easily have ripped up the grate but decided against it. As curious as he was, he did not have time to spend exploring an open hole in the ground.

  Dusting off his pants, he resumed his search for dry wood. Although certainly not as dense, the area reminded him of the Grayan Forest, and he thought of all of the times he and his father spent there hunting the blacktail deer. Thinking of his father worried him. He did not believe that the shifters of Pyraan alone could successfully win a battle with the number of invaders he saw out on the Arounda Ocean. It was most likely going to take cooperation from the Iserlohn Army of Men and maybe even the Dwarven and Elven armies. Beck readily admitted that he was not a good judge of the number of troops needed to win a war, but he did know that he would do whatever it took to protect his family and friends.

  He would do whatever it took to protect Kiernan.

  After a short search, Beck found a nice pile of dry wood. He bent to pick up the logs and then froze at a frightening sound. Something was hurtling through the woods toward him at tremendous speed. He dropped the wood and crouched, fingertips sizzling. Whatever it was that was tearing his way either did not know he was there or did not care. He gave himself just enough room to fight as the attacker came skidding around the caprock that Beck had been standing on just a few moments earlier.

  It was Bajan, and the Draca Cat ignored him completely as his hind legs scrabbled for purchase and he bolted in the direction of their new camp and Kiernan. Beck’s alarm at seeing the panic in the usually unflappable Draca Cat sent him sprinting behind. They were not far from the campsite and a moment later, Beck saw his companions rise up in surprise, two dead rabbits at Airron’s feet.

  They noticed Bajan at the same time Beck noticed the Cyman warriors rushing down the road at an unbelievable pace toward them. They were fast! Beck could not believe that something so big could move so fast.

  “Look out!” he yelled and summoned a ball of earth, the quickest and easiest way to stop the threat. He hurled the missile at the first soldier in line and it knocked him backwards into the others. His unexpected attack halted their advance for a moment, but the Cymans regrouped quickly and rushed forward again.

  There were ten of them.

  Bajan leapt onto the road and issued a terrifying roar that bared his sharp teeth. His lethal, spiked tail rose threatening in the air with a promise of great harm to anyone who dared to approach.

  The Cyman in the lead recognized the danger that the Draca Cat represented, and he held his arms out to both sides to stop his cohorts. “Give us the boy!” he shouted.

  Beck glanced over at Kiernan who, he realized, was rapidly shifting thoughts into Titus’ mind. The young Cyman’s face turned slack, and he immediately rose and walked over to the picketed horses and stood with his back to both groups.

  The blank look on Titus’ face did not go unnoticed by the Cyman soldiers. “What ‘ave you done to ‘im?” yelled the leader. “Come ‘ere, Titus!” The Cyman leader inched forward and Beck stepped up to meet him, forcing Rory protectively behind him. Rogan, Airron, and Kiernan silently joined him, forming a line that effectively cut off any attempt for the
Cyman soldiers to follow Titus. The four shifters made a fierce outward show as the ground began to roil, flame ignited, air shimmered, and the distinctive sound of a sword being unsheathed echoed in the night.

  Beck did not want this to come to violence, but knew that they would win if it did. These were not magical creatures standing before him and the shifters could easily destroy them, even without Bajan’s help. The Cymans fought with brute strength, not magic.

  Even so, Beck suspected there was something more to these creatures and their reason for being here in Massa. According to Titus, this was a war the Cyman people neither started nor wanted. Adrian Ravener was forcing them into this, and Beck was determined to find out how.

  “He stays with us,” said Beck threateningly. Then, he gambled. “Turn back now. This is not your war and you know it.”

  Beck could tell that the soldiers were surprised, and they looked at each other uneasily. The leader spoke up again. “Titus should keep ‘is mouth shut. ‘E ‘as said too much.”

  Beck did not reply.

  “Give ‘im to us and we will leave. For now.”

  Ignoring the demand, Beck questioned him instead. “Why are you here?”

  The Cyman hesitated for a moment and then declared, “We fight for the survival of the Cyman race. We fight for the lives of our women and children and our very existence. Even without magic, that makes us a very formidable opponent to the Isle of Massa. Do as the Mage instructs and your people will not be ‘armed.”

  “What is your name?” asked Beck.

  Again, he hesitated, blinking his one eye. Then, simply, “Teag.”

  “And your last name?” Beck asked.

  “Just Teag. We are not allowed surnames.”

  “You fight for a man who does not even consider you enough of one to have a proper identity?” he asked incredulously. “I do not know how the Mage has managed to coerce you into this affair, but if you are honest in your declaration that it is not of your design, together we can rise up against him.”