Island Shifters - An Oath of the Blood (Book One)

by Valerie Zambito

  ***

  Kiernan awoke early the next morning and silently dressed in the damp, chill air. It was always cold in the palace in the early hours, she remembered, before the sun had time to infuse its warmth into the day. Bajan lay relaxed by her bed, but his eyes watched her every move as she packed her belongings and ran a comb hastily through her hair. After securing her scabbard and sword over her back and fastening her dagger on her thigh, she said, Let’s go.

  The castle was silent as she made her way along seldom-used passageways and exited through the servant’s quarters. Gray skies and a light drizzle to match her mood greeted her and she pulled her mantle up over her head. It’s just as well. I would prefer not to be recognized as I travel. After last night, she no longer considered herself the Princess of Iserlohn. I’m a shifter with a job to do, and it’s painfully obvious that my father feels the same way.

  With a heavy heart, she also made the decision not to bid farewell to Miss Belle or Larkin or any other of the royal staff. The wound was too raw for her to expose, even to those she loved most, and lengthy partings would have only intensified the pain.

  Arriving at the stables, she went through the open doors and breathed in the nostalgic aroma of hay and horses. I spent many wonderful years in this stable, but, I will never be back here. I will never again lay eyes on the beauty of Nysa or her people. She wiped away an unexpected tear with the back of her hand.

  Bajan startled her as he bumped up against her side to rub affectionately against her.

  The King does love you.

  Really? If that is how he shows love, I would hate to be his enemy.

  He will come around to the irrationality of his beliefs.

  She snorted. I will not be around in the unlikely event that happens, Bajan. We are never coming home.

  Home is where your heart lies.

  She smiled. True. I leave a piece of it here, but the rest will always be with you and Beck and Airron and Rogan.

  Especially Beck.

  She didn’t deny it.

  Turning from her friend, she walked over to the exquisite blue roan mare that she would ride south to Iserport. Her name was Milan and one of her father’s prized mounts from King Jerund J’El’s personal stables. A final gift from a long-suffering father to his wayward daughter, she thought bitterly. Well, she would take her. She would have need of a quick and intelligent horse beneath her.

  The stable doors opened and Rogan, Airron and Rory walked in amid loud conversation and laughter. Rogan had questioned Rory about his whereabouts the previous evening, and the fireshifter confessed to feeling overwhelmed and slipping out of Grace Hall after the war council for a walk in the gardens.

  Beck entered next, giving her a small, knowing smile that sent shivers through her body. Behind him were the two Scarlet Sabers that would accompany them on their journey. Gage Gregaros, a wiry, gray-haired man and Bret Schwan, younger at around twenty years, with a muscular build and short, blonde hair. Kiernan preferred to travel without an escort, but Colbie Nash insisted she accept the two Sabers as an extra safeguard.

  She nodded to the men as she rechecked her backpack for their traveling papers. Since passage between lands was restricted, they would all need to rely on the King’s Decree of Purpose to avoid difficulties.

  It was disconcerting to her how the countries operated independently of each other with very little trade or creative exchanges. The three Kings rarely met, thus allowing the isolation and racism to grow more pervasive every year. Regardless of the reasons, it was a state of affairs that needed to be rectified—especially now that a common enemy had emerged.

  Kiernan mounted and led their party of eight out of the stables and through the deserted streets of Nysa. Kiernan heard Rory ask Beck how long it would be before they arrived in Iserport. She smiled at the little fireshifter who seemed to have matured so much in the past week. He had considerably more confidence today than the nervous boy she had met for the first time at the Homage Festival. It wasn’t surprising considering the horrors they had lived through. The Highworld knows I feel older than my years.

  “We should reach Janis in two days and Iserport in another three.”

  At the tall iron outer gates, running hoof beats sounded on the road behind. Kiernan turned and watched Colbie Nash race toward them, his crisp, dignified black and scarlet uniform contrasting with his tousled hair and red-cheeked, youthful features.

  He looks like an angel.

  Colbie reined in and gazed at her for a long moment, but then addressed Beck. “I hold you personally responsible for her safe return.”

  Beck nodded. “As does the King.”

  He glanced at her again, but cautiously this time as if not sure how she would react to his next statement. “I plan to fight you for her, you know,” he said, turning back to Beck.

  Beck shrugged. “Can’t say as I blame you, Captain.”

  Colbie lifted an eyebrow. “You’re not concerned?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe you underestimate me.”

  Beck shook his head. “On the contrary. I think you’re an honorable man and one who Kiernan holds in very high esteem. In any other circumstance, you would be a very worthy opponent.”

  “But in this?” he inquired.

  “It has already been decided. She is mine.”

  The young captain looked carefully from Beck to her, and whatever he saw in their eyes must have convinced him. He danced his horse close to Beck and Chasin and held out his hand. “Take care of her.”

  Beck shook Colbie’s hand and nodded. “My life on it.”

  Without a backward glance, the captain spun his mount and disappeared back along the quiet city streets of Nysa.

  Beck looked at her, waiting for her silent confirmation. She had to admit to being a bit put off by the verbal contest between the two men. She was no mindless git after all who expected the men in her life to speak for her. But, in this instance, Beck was right. It was already decided.

  She tilted her head in approval and guided Milan through the gate.

  Once outside of the city, Gage Gregaros took the lead at the head of the group with Airron and Rogan next, Beck, Kiernan and Rory in the middle, and Bret Schwan bringing up the rear. Bajan sprinted ahead and turned west into the forest to feed. Luckily, he recovered fully from his episode the evening before. The Draca told her that he didn’t remember much about the event, only a blinding pain that exploded in his head and sent a strange ripple throughout his body.

  Of course, it hadn’t escaped the notice of any of them that it occurred at the exact same moment that Galen Starr had died. But, what it could mean, they hadn’t a clue.

  Chapter 20

  The Wrath of a Princess

  Two days later, the outline of the town of Janis came into view in the distance. Beck wiped his brow. The rain had cleared after the first day of their departure from Nysa, and the sun had beat relentlessly down on them from a cloudless sky ever since.

  Riding warily toward the open gates, he hoped for nothing more than a trouble-free stay and a good night’s rest on something softer than dirt.

  Two guards patrolling a raised walkway above the entry eyed them as they passed through but made no attempt to stop or question them.

  Inside the walled town, a number of shops, an inn, tavern and church lined the main road. Small, well-kept homes dotted the side streets where children played in the yards, running in and around lines of laundry flapping in the light breeze.

  Beck stopped in front of one of the larger buildings that declared the establishment within to be The Lantern Inn.

  Gage Gregaros dismounted and offered to go in and secure rooms for the evening. As the Saber stepped up onto the wooden platform that encircled the town’s establishments, Beck frowned at a disturbing noise. The sound of flesh striking flesh and then a woman’s cry came from the alleyway between the inn and a merchant’s shop. Dismounting, he tied Chasin to a post and walked around the corner.

&
nbsp; A heavy-set, bearded man, sweating with exertion, stood over the top of a woman on the ground, her arms held up in front of her face to ward off the man’s fists. She appeared to be middle-aged, her disheveled hair falling free of the chignon she wore at the nape of her neck. The fading remnants of an older bruise yellowed her cheek.

  The man didn’t see Beck approach from behind and was poised to throw another punch at the woman when Beck reached out and stopped the man’s fist in his own, just inches from her face.

  “What the…?” The man twisted around to look at Beck in surprise.

  The woman scurried away, whimpering.

  “What are you doing, man?” Beck demanded.

  “None of your business,” he spat, trying to yank his arm free.

  Beck watched Kiernan hurry over to the woman and usher her out of the alleyway holding onto her shoulders for support.

  “This is between me and her, now get lost,” the bearded man growled, still trying to pull his fist loose.

  Beck held on tight. “It’s a very small man who would beat a woman.”

  The abuser’s face screwed up in anger, and Beck could smell ale on his breath. “Yeah, well, she oughta learn to obey a little bit better.”

  Beck glared at the man in disgust and walked out of the alleyway still holding the man’s fist. The woman beater didn’t have any choice but to stumble behind his long strides.

  Beck shoved the man into the street. “Now, get out of here before I lose my temper.”

  People walking along stopped to stare.

  The door of the tavern across the street banged open and two men stalked out, eyeing Beck as they approached. “What’s going on, Sully?” one of them asked.

  Sully got back to his feet. “A bunch of strangers sticking their noses where they don’t belong, that’s what’s going on.”

  “Need help?” the other man asked, spitting tobacco juice onto the road through a gap in his teeth.

  Sully looked from Beck to Bret and Rory, and then Airron and Rogan, who were standing idly by—Rogan with his arms crossed at his chest and Airron leaning against one of the horse posts casually chewing a piece of grass.

  “Well, well, if it ain’t a Dwarf and an Elf. I shoulda known there was something off about you people. We don’t take to your kind around here.”

  “Do you take to my kind?” Beck asked and waved a hand in the air. A small tree next to the wooden platform in front of Sully responded to his summons, and its thin branches shot forth and wrapped around the man’s wrists, wrenching them high above his head.

  Sully shrieked in surprise and struggled as the branches pulled him upright to the top of his toes. Sully’s two friends backed away, one narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Beck. “Look at his neck!” he said, pointing. “He’s one of them shifters that are supposed to be banished up north!”

  The bystanders in the street scattered like leaves in a strong wind.

  Heavy footsteps on the planks behind Beck caused him to turn. One of the largest men he had ever seen in his life was standing on the platform, glowering. Beck assumed he was the Lantern’s innkeeper by the apron tied around his generous waist. “Go on home, Sully. I’ll take care of Cara, and these folks here.”

  Beck let his magic go and Sully rubbed at his wrists when the tree branches snapped back into place.

  The innkeeper gestured with his head to Beck and the others. “Get inside.”

  “Come on now, Jase! You’re gonna let these people stay here after how they just treated me? I’ve got my pride, you know!”

  Jase stared down at the despicable man. “A man who has pride in himself does not beat his wife, Sully.”

  “It ain’t the end of this, Jase,” Sully yelled, backing away from the inn.

  The large man simply shook his head and disappeared back into his establishment.

  Beck followed behind.

  Several people seated at tables in the dining area looked up as they entered, but resumed their conversations when it looked as though the trouble had passed.

  Beck held out his hand. “Thank you, Jase.”

  The innkeeper waved an enormous hand. “Bah! It’s high time someone stood up to that bloody coward. Most people around here would rather turn a blind eye than take him on.”

  “So, why did you?”

  “Two reasons. One, I’m ashamed that it took strangers coming to my town to oblige me into doing the right thing by one of our own. Two,” he said, turning to Kiernan and settling his large frame down to the floor on one knee, “if you are traveling with the Princess of Iserlohn, it is my honor to serve.”

  Kiernan shook her head. “But how…?”

  “Your eyes, Your Grace. I haven’t seen you since you were a little girl, but those are eyes that once you’ve seen ‘em, you never forget ‘em.”

  Chairs scraped back as the diners in the inn hastily knelt.

  “Please rise,” Kiernan said clearly so that all could hear.

  When the big man stood, Beck said, “We appreciate your kindness. If there is anything we can do to repay you, please tell me.”

  Jase tilted his head. “That thing you did with the tree. Are you one of them earthshifters?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, my water well out back has pretty much dried up and I’ve been digging for over a week now with no luck. My back is not what it used to be,” he admitted, rubbing it tenderly. “Do you think you can remove some dirt for me and find a spring for a new well?”

  Beck nodded. “Sure. I’ll do it right now.”

  “Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

  “No trouble at all,” Beck assured him.

  Jase clapped Beck on the back. “You know, Iserlohn sure could do with more shifters around. Think about all of the good you could do for people!”

  Beck smiled. “I wish everyone felt the way you do, Jase.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what about your exile? Are the shifters free?”

  They had decided before the trip not to mention the invasion to the citizens of Massa if they could avoid it. They didn’t want to cause undue panic before the Kings could rightfully call their arms to bear and address their people as they saw fit.

  “I hope so, Jase. I really hope so.”

  ***

  A muffled noise sent Kiernan springing upright in her bed at The Lantern Inn.

  Something is wrong.

  She quickly swung her legs to the side, slid into her sandals and began to lace them, listening intently for the sound to repeat itself so she could identify the source.

  Her head whipped up. There it is! It sounded like a woman’s cry.

  Cara!

  Kiernan had been up half of the night with the woman trying to instill some confidence into her. Before Cara retired to her own room, she assured Kiernan that she was feeling stronger and that Kiernan’s words had emboldened her to stand up to her husband.

  Kiernan raced to the window of her room and looked out. Standing in the street in front of the inn was Cara’s husband, Sully, with two of his cronies, and they were lifting a struggling Cara onto one of their horses. Before Kiernan could so much as shout for help, the four were mounted and tearing down the street toward the outer gates.

  With a curse, Kiernan slapped her scabbard over her shoulder, checked to see that her dagger was still in place on her thigh, and sprinted from the room. She took the stairs two at a time, leaping past the last four rungs at the bottom. Landing smoothly, she pushed outside into the night and headed for the inn’s stables at a dead run.

  She skidded to a stop in the hay outside of Milan’s stall and hastily bridled the mare. Without taking the time to saddle her, she took a running jump onto a stool and flew at the animal’s back. The unexpected maneuver startled Milan, but she allowed it, familiar now with Kiernan’s scent.

  “Git!” she screamed, grabbing the reins and nudging Milan roughly with her knees. The horse needed no further encouragement to run as she tore out of the stable doors an
d raced out onto the street. Kiernan’s only concern as the buildings flashed by was reaching Cara and seeing her safely away from Sully.

  The wooden doors were just banging shut behind the three kidnappers as Kiernan bore down on them.

  “Open the gates!” she yelled.

  A man dressed in dark clothes on top of the walkway over the entry swung a bow into her vision and loosed an arrow at her. She reached over her back for the hilt of her sword and drew it, contemptuously cutting the arrow out of the air.

  With one hand, she reined in Milan, and the horse reared up before a lone night guardsman on the ground. Gritting her teeth, she peered through the wooden slates at the kicked up dust from the fleeing horses.

  She brought the horse down and pointed her sword at the guardsman’s throat. “Open the gates! Now!”

  Kiernan could never have imagined the imposing figure she cut atop her elegant horse, eyes blazing with determination and her voice resonating with command.

  A princess warrior in all her rage.

  The guard cowered from her and quickly scurried to obey. She sheathed her sword and guided Milan through the widening aperture as soon as the horse was able to fit through and raced away into the night.

  The kidnappers were leaving a conspicuous trail in their wake, and the capable Milan would be upon them in no time. Kiernan laid her torso flat over the horse to give the mare as much speed as possible.

  A whisper of movement off to the side caught her notice. Bajan charged out of the forest to the west and was soon keeping pace beside Milan, sinew and muscle rippling powerfully with feline grace as he ran.

  Up ahead, two of the kidnappers peeled away and sped off in different directions while Sully slowed his horse. He had to know that she would catch up with him eventually. Still, it unnerved her that the others were getting away.

  When he came to a stop, he dismounted and dragged Cara down with him, holding a knife to her throat.

  It took all of Kiernan’s skill to stop the racehorse, who wanted to continue on with their spontaneous sprint.

  She drew her sword and swung down. “Let her go,” she ordered Sully, with Bajan backing up her command with a heart-stopping, savage growl.

  Cara struggled against Sully, but he held her tight to him, using her body as a shield.

  Kiernan’s eyes turned black.