Subdued conversation resumed as Kiernan meted out the rabbit. She walked over and held out a dish to him. “What are you reading?”
Beck shut the book and accepted the meal. “Nothing important.” This was not the right setting to discuss Galen Starr’s dying bestowment. And, it was not just the book itself that he was coerced into accepting. It was the string attached—that Beck use the knowledge contained within The Protetor to become a Mage. He shuddered slightly at the thought.
Wanting no secrets between them, he promised himself that he would tell Kiernan as soon as the time was right. She evidently felt the same way about being upfront and told him and the others after they left Janis about Sully and his abduction of Cara. He shook his head as he recalled her modest shrug after he scolded her for tearing off into the dark after three men alone. He would have done the same thing, she insisted firmly, seeing absolutely no distinction between the two.
He patted the ground next to him, and she sat down with a smile. She looked so beautiful in the moonlight, with her hair hanging to her waist in golden waves.
And her eyes.
Jase the innkeeper was right. They were unique not only in their color, but in the compassion and spirit that dwelled there. He felt grateful beyond words that he had her in his life, and he would do whatever he had to do to keep her safe.
A strand of hair slipped over her eye, and he stroked it back into place. “It’s late. Lie down now and get some sleep.”
She yawned and laid her head in his lap. Considering her adventure of the previous evening, it was not surprising when she nodded off almost immediately.
Beck ate his meal and after memorizing every glorious detail of her slumberous face, he carefully tucked The Protetor in his pack, leaned back and joined her.
Late in the afternoon of the third day after leaving Janis behind, Beck looked down from a small hummock at the city of Iserport sprawled up against Lake Traverse. The large lake was fed by the Arounda Ocean by way of the Illian River from the east and west and the Koda River from the south.
Wavering in the heat of the sunlight like a mirage, Iserport’s gray mass looked dingy and unwelcoming, considerably disproportionate to the city of Nysa, and even to Janis. Noticeably more populated, the inhabitants appeared worn and ragged as they moved sluggishly through the streets in the heat among buildings squat and rundown. Surprising to Beck, Iserport was not walled, but spread out haphazardly around the lake.
Each land, Beck knew from studying Gage Gregaros’ maps, had a transportation port on the lake through which the movement of goods and people was ideal, if such passage was desired. It was not. According to the Scarlet Saber, the port cities were little more than military outposts, restricting the small number of ferries that utilized them. Beck thought it absurd. Unlike animals, men had the ability to shape their world and to seek out ways to better their lot in life. The people of Massa, with their old grudges, seemed determined to allow time to slip inexorably by without progress and let the world shape them into pale and colorless replicas of what could be. The lands should be flourishing with trade instead of hunkered down in segregation. He wondered why they did not see. Were the blinders that tight? The resentments so deep?
Gage Gregaros interrupted Beck’s thoughts. “We have been fortunate so far, Atlan, but it is important here, more than anywhere else, that we do not provide anyone a chance to detain us. It could mean the end of our journey if the legionnaires on patrol discover a shifter among them.”
“We have our papers from the King,” Beck pointed out.
“Yes, and they will probably, and I mean probably, help us in getting things sorted out eventually, but it would cost us valuable time. Better to be cautious and avoid discovery if we can.”
Beck nodded and made sure his athame was covered. He instructed the others to do the same and asked Airron and Rogan to remain hooded. Not a pleasant experience in the heat, but necessary.
“I will take the lead,” said Gage. “There is a small inn near the wharf where few questions are asked. A stable borders the property where we can leave the horses, but I must confess that I am not optimistic that the animals will still be here if and when we return. We do not have a choice, however. The horses must stay behind.”
A sharp pang of disappointment cut through Beck. He would be devastated to lose Chasin. The horse was one of his last tangible ties to Pyraan and the memories of his life there. He transferred both reins to one hand and patted the silky black neck with the other. “Do not worry, old friend,” he crooned. “I will be back to find you when I return. I promise.”
The party spurred their horses forward to follow Gage onto a thoroughfare in serious need of repair. Grimacing, Beck wrinkled his nose at the smell and had to pick his way carefully through the muck, both refuse and human, as garbage and unwashed bodies littered the streets.
Wagon drivers rumbled through the melee cursing and shouting at pedestrians in language rough enough to color the cheeks of most men Beck knew. The people did not seem to notice or care as they pushed and shoved their way through the throng to reach their destinations.
The buildings in crumbled neglect were packed as tightly together as the people with very little space between establishments. Gage told Beck that the most lucrative occupations in Iserport were those that catered to the transient legionnaires. Away from home and with little to do, the young soldiers felt more at liberty to imbibe in their more wanton desires, namely drink, gambling and women. Consequently, the taverns and brothels of Iserport did very well, while other more legitimate commerce went out of business. The more upstanding citizens of Iserport left if they were able and wallowed in poverty if they were not, leaving the dregs of society to run amok.
Beck wondered if King Maximus was aware of the destitution here. Then, he wondered cynically if the King ever even left his safe, walled city.
Beck felt a tug on his pant leg.
“Do you have a copper penny, sir? Just a penny for some food?” It was a small, dirty-faced boy of about seven years. He was naked from the waist up and the bottom half clad only in a pair of ill-fitting and ripped trousers that the boy clearly outgrew long ago. His sad, round eyes wrenched at Beck and he moved a hand to one of his pouches to retrieve a coin. Bret Schwan’s hand lashed out and grabbed Beck’s wrist in a steel grip. “Give that boy a coin and we will never make it to the docks,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth.
Beck looked around cautiously and spied several hard faced men lining a narrow alleyway across the street eyeing the scene with debauched interest.
“Sorry, boy, but we have no coin,” said Bret loudly, shooing the boy away. “Off you go now.”
The incident disturbed Beck, but he trusted in the Saber’s instincts, and they were accosted no further as they continued to wind their way toward the wharf.
After what seemed like hours to Beck, the travel-weary party reached their destination, The Queen’s Lair. To his relief, it looked in slightly better condition than most of the others they had passed.
Several legionnaires striding through the street eyed them as they dismounted in front of the inn, but passed by without stopping. Beck let out his breath in relief. Gage was right. A detainment now would be costly.
The two Sabers went next door to coordinate the care of the animals with the stable owner and within a few moments returned with two young boys to retrieve the horses. “Make sure they get rubbed down good and fed well,” said Bret sternly. The two boys nodded their heads impassively and went about their work, just one more chore in a day already full of them.
When Bret excused himself to arrange for their board with the innkeeper, Beck watched Kiernan approach the young grooms. She leaned down and whispered to them, and whatever she said caused their dirty faces to light up into the first genuine smiles Beck had witnessed since arriving in Iserport. When she returned, he asked her what she said to them.
She shrugged. “I just told them that if the animals were still here when we
returned, I would give them a florin.”
“A gold florin!” exclaimed Beck. “That’s more than they would ever see in a lifetime.”
“I know, but I want my horse back!” she justified to him. “I could not bear to see either Milan or Chasin sold off or mistreated.”
Beck was impressed that she thought to bribe the grooms, but was doubtful it would succeed. “What if the boys or the stable owner decides to sell them?”
She gave him a smug smile. “They won’t. I told the boys to give me sixty days. If I do not return for the horses within that time, they are free to do with them as they will. They would never receive close to gold by selling them, so they promised to sleep in the stables with daggers across their laps until I return.” Her green eyes were full of confidence. “Those boys will guard those horses with their lives.”
A still hooded Airron sauntered over to them, head swiveling as he gaped at several heavily made-up young women entering a ramshackle brothel on the other side of the street. “I think I am going to take a little look around. See the sights.”
“No, Airron,” said Beck.
Airron just laughed and patted his shoulder. “Relax, Beck, I will not be found out. You have my word.”
Beck shook his head. “Not a good idea.”
Airron walked over and grabbed Rogan’s arm. “I’ll take the big fireball with me.”
Rogan snorted. “No thanks.”
“Fine. I will take the little fireball instead,” and he walked away dragging a reluctant Rory behind.
Beck sighed as he watched them leave.
“You should not have let him go,” said Kiernan, her steel-edged words laced with reproach.
Beck raised his eyebrows. “He does not need my approval, Kiernan. The man makes his own decisions.”
“And if he gets noticed for being either an Elf or a shifter? What then? You heard what Gage said, Beck. We can ill afford to be waylaid here.”
He was getting annoyed. “Then we deal with it, Kiernan, but Airron will be careful. He knows what we are about.”
She stared at him, hands on her hips. “This is not a carefree excursion into the Grayan Forest, Beck. People are depending on us to complete the duty to which we committed ourselves.” She tilted her head. “Perhaps you would rather join Airron in his escapade? Is that it? Forget about all of this and have a little fun?”
He stared at her, astonished and hurt that she would say such a thing. “Why would you suddenly question my commitment? I am well aware of what is at stake and, more importantly, what has already been lost. I was there in Pyraan, Kiernan. Remember?”
“Yes, and that is why I am surprised at your carelessness.”
He paused for a long moment. “I do not deserve that, Kiernan, and you know it. As you wish, I will go after Airron. Go get some rest inside.”
He walked away then, his already heavy shoulders hunched even further with the added weight of Kiernan’s rebuke.
Hours later, Kiernan recalled those curved shoulders as she restlessly paced her room and mulled over her comments to Beck. She still did not understand what had caused her to doubt him like that. Especially, after all they had endured. After all he had endured with the loss of his parents. In the end, she could only attribute her behavior to her exhaustion from traveling and her argument with her father. It did not matter the reasons, she told herself. She would find Beck and make it right with him. Surely, he would understand after she explained herself.
There was a knock on her door.
Beck!
She stumbled in her haste to the door, righted herself and threw it open.
It was Rory.
She was the only one of the party to have her own room. Beck, Airron, and Rogan shared one, and Rory and the two Sabers were in the other. In spite of the impoverishment of the city, the Queen’s Lair was tidy and clean and appeared to be doing fairly well with a common dining room and pub on the first floor.
“Rory! What are you doing here? Where’s Beck?” she asked.
Rory put his foot inside the threshold against the door. “Are you going to invite me in, Princess?”
She was not sure why, but she hesitated. “It is late, Rory. Just tell me if you know where Beck is.”
“Let me in and I will tell you.”
Grudgingly, she opened the door for the young shifter. She smelled wine on him as he passed. “And, stop calling me Princess. What is wrong with you?”
He flopped on the bed with a giggle. “Sorry, Princess. Anyway, I thought it my place to tell you that Beck has decided that all duty and no fun can be very, very boring. He is outside the doors to the inn at this very moment if you would care to see for yourself.”
“See what? You are acting strangely, Rory. Is it the drink?”
He laughed. “No, no. I just thought you deserved to know that Beck has decided that one woman is not enough for him.”
“What?” she said, grabbing her cloak and sword and rushing out into the hall. Rory was not making any sense. She would just have to find out for herself what he was rambling about. She hurried down the stairs to the main serving area, but did not look at any of the patrons as she stomped out the front door.
The streets were busy with pedestrians even at this late hour. Reluctantly, she pressed into the mass of people, who bumped and pushed at her rudely as she walked among them. Where was he? She craned her neck to see over the heads of the crowd, scanning each side of the street.
Decided that one woman was not enough? She snorted dismissively and resolved to have Beck speak to Rory about his drinking.
Then, she saw him.
He was leaning against the stone wall of a brothel on the opposite side of The Queen’s Lair with two young ladies pressed against him, trailing kisses down the length of him. He was smiling as he stroked the hair of one of the young women.
Kiernan stood there in stunned shock. It felt like somebody clamped a vice around her lungs and she could not get a breath. She continued to stare until Beck threw his head back and moaned in pleasure, and then she turned and fled. She slipped several times as she ran and her knees began to bleed freely.
“Hey!” screamed one woman on the street as Kiernan collided into her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, her surroundings blurry and indistinct through tear filled eyes. She did not care. She just wanted to get away. Away from Beck, away from her father, and away from this quest.
To demons hell with them all!
No destination in mind, she moved blindly through the crowd until it began to thin. Brazen young men made lewd comments to her as she passed, but she barely heard them. Distantly, she became aware of footsteps close behind her. Too close. She turned to look and an arm whipped around her neck, spinning her hard against a soft body. Before she could react, the soft murmur of whispered words in her ear caused her vision to haze and the energy to seep from her body. She knew she should be fighting, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not move arms that suddenly felt like lead weights hanging uselessly at her sides.
Why was she so weak?
Unexpectedly, she was lifted off the ground and her mind screamed out in one last coherent thought before darkness swallowed her.
Bajan!
Chapter 19
PRECIOUS TROUBLE
“Do you think we should wake him?” he heard Rory ask.
“He still looks a little green to me,” said Rogan, reaching down to lift one of his eyelids.
Beck growled and swatted Rogan’s hand away clumsily. His head was aching dreadfully. “What happened?” he croaked.
Rogan dragged a chair over to Beck’s bedside. “You tell me. Do you know how hard it is to tear an amorous earthshifter from his intended quarry?”
Beck opened his eyes. “What? Speak some sense, man!”
“I found you in the street last night in the arms of two, shall we say, ladies of dubious honor. Were you drunk?” asked Rogan, sounding perplexed.
Beck heard Rory snigger.
&n
bsp; “Of course not!” He had no interest in other women or excessive drink. So, why could he not remember what happened last night?
Rogan leaned back in his chair and engaged in his favorite pastime coaxing three fireballs to life in his hands. “Forget about it. It happens,” he said philosophically as he juggled.
Beck shook his head emphatically despite the shooting pain to his temples. “You don’t understand….”
There was a knock on the door, and Rory went to answer it.
Beck groaned and lifted his head enough to see with one eye that Airron was in bed, snoring softly. Well, that was one less thing to worry about. The only concern on his mind now was talking to Kiernan and resolving their argument. He still did not agree with what she said, but her frustration with him left an achy, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“It’s Gage,” announced Rory.
The wiry Scarlet Saber came into the room. “Good,” he said looking around. “Most of you are here. I will be going down to the docks to arrange our passage to Deeport this morning. It should not take long, so be sure that everyone is ready to leave within the hour.”
When Gage left, Beck got out of bed, staggered to the basin and splashed cool water on his face. Feeling only slightly more human, he said, “Wake Airron. I will go tell Kiernan.”
He threw his shirt on over his head and lurched out into the corridor. He knocked loudly on Kiernan’s door and waited. There was no answer. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he instinctively knew something was wrong. In that moment, he also knew that it had something to do with his inability to remember the events of last evening. He hurried back to his room. “Kiernan is not answering,” he blurted in a panic as soon as he came through the door.
Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood Page 21