Suddenly, out of nowhere, the ominous sound of horses thundering down the small lane.
The adult Rogan watching from the trees saw his father tense and turn in the doorway toward the horsemen, setting the younger Rogan down just inside the house and stepping in front of him protectively. He heard his mother gasp and gather him up in her arms and run out the back door. She threw him into the back of a wagon that was still hitched to their plow horse. She shushed him gently and told him to stay down and hang on tightly as she climbed in beside him. His father rushed out of the house and leapt up onto the horse’s back, slapping reins against the animal’s rump harshly. The frightened animal, evidently not used to such rough treatment from his father, took off with a lurch.
Both versions of Rogan were crying now. The boy because he was frightened, and the man because he knew how it would all end. How could his father hope to outrun the King’s men—for that was surely who they were—with a plow horse?
He tried to yell out to him, to warn him, but no sound issued from his mouth.
His father’s face was crazed and wide-eyed as he raced along the narrow and uneven road that ran through the sparse forest behind the house. He tried to maneuver a sharp corner and the King’s men gained on the small wagon. Predictably, one of the back wheels caught on a rut, and the wagon bed swung around the horse and smashed into a tree, sending all three occupants sailing through the air to land hard on the ground.
Both of his parents were killed instantly.
King Rik was right—it was his fault. The elder Radeks died in an impulsive attempt to save their son from exile. The only reason Rogan survived at all was that he landed on his mother’s soft body before hitting the ground.
“Rogan!” He was jolted out of his memory-filled trance by Dillon. “Can you hear me?”
Rogan held up his hand to stay Dillon, walked a few feet away into the trees, fell to his knees and vomited. He remained that way for several long moments and was grateful that neither Janin nor Dillon tried to approach. It surprised him that he had known all along what really happened to his parents but suppressed the memory because it was so painful. All it took was one glimpse at his childhood home to trigger the recollection of the events that transpired on that day.
There was consolation in the remembrance as well, however. He could now vividly recall the faces of his mother and father, heretofore always indefinable, shadowed visages. He could now clearly feel the profound love they had for him. He was never abandoned. He was loved and protected until the very end. The knowledge of these truths was an antidote for something in him he was not aware was in need of healing.
When he finally felt like he had control of his emotions and nausea, he walked shakily back to his companions. He braced himself for a taunt from Janin, but she only looked at him with concern in her eyes. “Are you all right? Do you want to keep going?”
He nodded with a grateful smile. “I have no other choice.” He held out his hand to Dillon. The Dwarf looked at him sideways but took his hand. “I remember you. I remember everything. It is good to see you again, old friend.”
Dillon pumped his hand firmly and slapped him on the back. “About time!”
“Your memories came back to you?” asked a shocked Janin.
“Yes, and they were not all pleasant. Now, I must hurry and retrieve my pendant so I can reunite with my friends.”
He watched as Dillon and Janin glanced at each other. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem,” said Janin. “As long as you realize we are coming with you to Sarphia.”
Rogan began shaking his head. “No, it is too dangerous…”
Janin laughed aloud. “And we have been on a picnic this whole time?” she asked.
“You do not understand what we face. I don’t even know what we face, but it will be formidable magic to be sure.”
Janin picked up her pack from the ground at her feet. “Discussion over. We are coming.”
Dillon nodded his agreement.
Rogan shook his head, but was secretly grateful. It would be nice to have his two Dwarven friends with him. If the situation became too perilous, he could always send them away then. “Have you seen anything?” he asked.
“No one,” replied Dillon.
“Well, be prepared. The King’s men are near, I am sure of it.” Rogan watched them both nod in a form of grim excitement that only a soldier can appreciate and then turned and led the way through the trees. He recalled from his memory the back door and thought it would be safer to go in through there.
Circling around the house quietly at the line of trees, the trio stopped at the edge of the clearing in back and then cautiously approached the back door at a running crouch. Next to the door, off to the side, was a single window and Dillon hurried over to it, squatted under the sill and popped his head up to look inside. He shook his head to indicate he could not see any movement. Slowly, Rogan proceeded to the door and pushed inside, a flame of fire held out in front of him.
He heard Janin whisper very softly, close to his ear. “Forget what I said earlier. I love when you do that.”
The tips of his ears burned with embarrassment, but he continued into the room off the back door, which turned out to be a kitchen. There was not much to see, so he passed through into a living room that had two additional interior doors branching from it, one on each side of the house. He went into the one on the right. The only furniture it contained was a bed and a large chest sitting near the door. He knelt down and held the flame up so he could examine the contents. There were clothes, shoes, and a few pieces of jewelry, but not a pendant. Pocketing the jewelry, he went to search the other room. Dillon and Janin were already inside, but there was nothing to see—it was completely empty.
“It has to be here!” growled Rogan, frustrated. He went back into the living room and then the kitchen, but his search turned up nothing.
Suddenly, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye outside the window.
“Get down!” he shouted just as the front door opened and a torch was hurled inside the living room. The oil from the pitch dripped onto the threadbare carpet and immediately went up in a blaze.
Rogan thrust out his hands, gathered the flames together into a cohesive ball and then snuffed out the energy of the fire with little effort.
“Come on out, shifter!” shouted a voice from outside. “Do it peacefully and no one will get hurt!”
He crawled over to one of the windows in front of the house and peered out through the wooden slats that covered it from the outside. “There are six Iron Fists out there,” he whispered to Dillon and Janin as he scrambled back to them. “Those are your fellow soldiers out there. Go out the back now, and they will never know you were involved.”
Dillon reached out to put his hand on his shoulder. “I am here, Rogan, because it is the right thing to do. I could never live with myself if I left you to handle this on your own. She’s here,” he said, jerking his thumb at Janin, “because she likes a good fight.”
Rogan turned to see that Janin still had the same excited glint in her eyes he had seen earlier. He shook his head. “I have to find a way to do this peacefully. I cannot kill innocent men.”
“We can still thump them pretty good,” replied Janin.
“Either way, I will not go back to that cell. Too many lives depend on it. Ready?”
After receiving a nod from his companions, Rogan got to his feet, sprinted toward the door, and shouldered into it sending splinters flying as he sailed out into the evening air and dove to the side. Dillon and Janin were right behind him.
That was when all hell broke loose.
Chapter 27
AQUATAINE
Beck tried with all of his considerable might to control his downward drop, but could not gain purchase in the steep tunnel, smooth and slippery with water and moss. He could hear Bajan scrabbling just as furiously behind him, roaring and spitting all the way. After what seemed like a lifetime of falling, Beck h
eard water rushing below him seconds before he plunged into its warm depths. Using his arms and legs to propel to the surface, his head broke through just as the Draca Cat crashed into the pool beside him.
Shaking the water from his eyes, he studied his surroundings. To the left and right, miniature waterfalls that originated from some unseen source splashed down into the lagoon where he now treaded water and framed a crescent-shaped, white sandy beach. Crystallized stalagmites jutting up from the sand reached for their stalactite kin hanging from the cathedral ceiling resembling the open maw of a hideous sea creature. Higher still was what appeared to be a sky studded with millions of emeralds, and their glow blanketed the atmosphere in a soft green hue.
Past the beach, Beck spotted another lagoon and cave opening, and voices and noise drifted to him through the aperture. Many voices. There are people in there!
“Hello! Over here!”
A group of people were emerging from the second pool and hurrying across the beach, one man waving his hand frantically at him.
Beck paused. Are they nude?
“Do not be afraid. Please come out of the water and join us.”
Cautiously, Beck swam toward them until he could walk out onto the shore, Bajan beside him. No, they were not nude…. but not quite clothed, either. People…. but not quite human. Their flesh-toned bodies were androgynous with all of the shapes and angles that normally distinguished male from female smoothed out. Yet the face of the man beckoning to him had a definite masculine cast and the woman next to him was decidedly female.
“I am Beck Atlan,” he said nodding his head in greeting. “And, this is Bajan.”
The people made little murmuring sounds of delight at the introduction of the Draca Cat. The same man spoke again, a very tall and lean fellow. “Greetings, Master Atlan, my name is Digby. Welcome to Aquataine.”
Now that Beck was closer to the man, he puzzled over the sound of his voice. The only way he could describe it was wet, as though spoken around a mouthful of water. Beck narrowed his eyes. Are those gills on the man’s neck? Impossible, he thought, shaking his head.
“Digby, what is this place?
“This is our home, Aquataine,” came the slurpy reply.
Suddenly, there was a shout and a splash from the second cavern, and a young Aquatainian boy rode in through the opening at tremendous speed on the back of what looked to Beck like a porpoise. At a slight movement of direction from the boy, the porpoise leapt into the air and then dove down under the water disappearing from sight. A heartbeat later, they re-emerged and shot up out of the water again in a high arc, the boy clinging tightly to the leathery, slick hide with his knees and roaring in unrestrained laughter. Beck shook his head in wonder and watched the playful pair turn around and vanish back into the cave.
Bajan bumped him from behind, urging him to get on with business. He turned back to the only man who had spoken. “Look, Diggy….”
“Digby,”
“Sorry, Digby. Forgive us for intruding. It was quite by accident that the grate we found opened up causing us to drop into…. Aquataine. We would appreciate your help in returning to the outside as quickly as possible.”
Digby stared at him and then motioned for Beck to follow. “First you must meet with the Elders at the Temple of Grotte.” He started to protest, but Digby stopped him. “You have no choice, Master Atlan. It is the law in Aquataine. Any outsider who discovers our world must meet with the Elders before they can leave again.”
He bit back a retort and nodded, figuring it would be faster to just meet with the Elders so that he and Bajan could be on their way.
Beck followed Digby through the stalagmites. Curious, he asked, “Digby, why is it so light here? Not only is it evening, but this place is so far underground, it should be dark all the time.”
Digby pointed up toward the cave’s ceiling. “Glow worms.”
Beck squinted up at the luminescent pinpricks of green light on the ceiling of the cavern that looked like emeralds. “Glow worms?”
“Yes, the worms are our only source of light and because they are nocturnal creatures, they glow at night and sleep during the day. So, in Aquataine, day is night and night is day,” he said proudly, as if the Aquatainians had discovered some form of logic as of yet beyond those that dwelled on the land above.
“I have never seen a glow worm before.”
Digby shrugged. “Oh, they are all over the island if you look close enough.”
When they reached the end of the beach before the opening to the second cavern, Digby led Beck and Bajan to a small raft tethered to one of the stalagmites. They boarded and remained standing as Digby took hold of a long pole and guided them into the waterway. The rest of the Aquatainians simply dove into the water and began gliding through the lagoon with the same ease as the porpoise.
“Digby, does anyone in Massa know about Aquataine?”
“Not many. We use the grates whenever we have to go to the Surface World for supplies, but since you must have the use of magic to open them, visitors are rare.”
“Magic?”
“Of course,” he said, laughing, and it sounded like a gurgle. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Master Atlan? Everybody in Aquataine is a watershifter.”
Beck was stunned. “Watershifter! I…. I did not know it was possible. I thought there were only the four metamagics of power?”
“Four? Highworld, no! There are many metamagics known to us, and many more that are not. What kind of shifter are you?”
“Earth.”
“Well, then, we shift the water the same way you do the ground. As you may have noticed, we have also started to take on the characteristics of water beings and can now move rapidly through the water without even shifting.” Digby pointed to his bare webbed feet and webbed hands. It was not something particularly discernible unless you knew what to look for.
“You know,” said Beck. “I saw another of your grates before. In Pyraan.”
“Yes, we did have one in Pyraan, but it has since been destroyed.”
“So, you are aware that Pyraan was flooded and no longer exists?”
“Sadly, yes. It took quite a bit of effort to get our ports sealed again.”
Both men were silent for a moment, thinking about the devastating effects of Adrian’s spell.
“Are those gills on your neck?” he finally dared to ask. Digby nodded with a grin. He was proud of his magic and the manifestation of that magic on his physical appearance.
The watershifter steered through the cave entrance and said ceremoniously, “May I present the city of Ebba!”
A city of waterways instead of roadways, it was bustling with activity. The canals were crowded with people swimming or riding porpoises or steering rafts similar to the one he and Bajan were riding. The people came in all shapes and sizes, but it was easier than he first thought to distinguish the men from the women due to their facial features, mannerisms, and hairstyles. Buildings were situated throughout the city, some on stilts, and some on the sandy shore. Much like any other city in Massa, there were merchants selling their wares, taverns, and inns. Along the beaches, couples strolled happily arm in arm, laughing and then somersaulting into the water. Children waved and shouted at Bajan as they glided by.
From what Beck could see, it was a utopian waterworld and he wished Kiernan was here to see this undiscovered and magical place.
Digby guided them ashore in front of a modest temple constructed of limestone and clay, the front portico supported by three pink, granite pillars. “Word was sent ahead, so the Elders will be expecting you,” Digby informed him. “As soon as your meeting is finished, I will show you the way out.”
“I will need to go fast.”
Digby chuckled with a sly grin. “You have never seen a watershifter in action, have you?”
Beck smiled back. It was hard not to like the young, congenial watershifter. He reminded him of Airron.
Alighting from the raft, Beck and Bajan approached t
he temple and walked through the pillared portico to an archway that led to the dim, cool interior of a vestibule. A young girl appeared and motioned them inside. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw the Draca Cat, but she quickly lowered her head and held out a towel to Beck. He looked around uncertainly and then realized the towel was for him. He took it from the girl and patted the wetness from his hair and clothes, hoping that was what was expected.
The girl glanced up and nodded her approval. When he was finished, he handed the towel back to her and started to walk further into the room.
“Mister!” she admonished in a whisper, her face pale in shock. “Your shoes!”
“Huh? Oh, right.” He quickly bent down and removed his boots. Satisfied, the girl beckoned and she led them to the back of the temple to a large great hall with brightly colored walls inscribed with hieroglyphics unfamiliar to him. Directly ahead was a raised pulpit on which three men sat. All of the men had varying lengths of white hair and wore white robes, the first piece of clothing Beck had seen since coming to Aquataine.
He approached the pulpit with Bajan.
The man seated in the middle and who appeared to be the oldest of the three, spoke. “This is the first time in a very long time that an outsider has entered our world,” he croaked out in the same watery voice that was distinctive to the watershifters. Beck remained silent. Whatever the Elders had to say to him, he wanted them to say it fast.
“We have several entrances into Aquataine,” the Elder continued, “but since magic is required to enter, we have never feared discovery from Massans. We know there is great turmoil brewing on the island, but we cannot be involved. It is not a decision based on cowardice, but on necessity. Because of our affinity with the water, we would perish outside of Aquataine. We need the water to live and breathe. In fact, we can no longer visit the Surface World for more than a few hours at a time.”
The watershifter looked uneasily at his companions and said, “We require an Oath of Silence. You will always be welcome in Aquataine, as are all shifters, but you must never bring a non-magical entity into our world. The lives of our people are at stake.”
Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood Page 31