Kane cleared his throat. “It looks like it may have once been an Elf. It is very tall, but walks on all fours instead of upright.” He paused again. “It has a tail that sucks the blood from its victims.”
Kellan reached out and put a comforting hand on Kane’s shoulder. “Do you think the Ellvinians brought more of these beasts?”
His brother shook his head. “The Elf named Emile seemed just as surprised by its presence as we all were.”
“Can it be killed?”
“It is very fast and very strong, but I think it can be done.”
“Kellan!”
It was Izzy, and he quickly glanced to where she pointed. The line of Battlearms in the front row knelt to the ground, brought up long bows, and aimed them at the Draca Cats. After screaming a warning to Maks and Jain, Kellan threw his arm out and the ground in front of the Battlearms exploded in a hail of dirt and stones. Bodies flew backwards as the heaving ground tossed Elves into the air.
“First blood has been drawn,” Kellan warned. “Be prepared. Now, they will come.”
A ball of flame flared to life in Jala’s hands, but she paused and looked questioningly at Kellan.
He gave her a grim nod of his head. “Yes, Jala, we must fight back. These people have already spilled Massan blood including that of Alia. It is hard to take a human life, I know, but we cannot falter now. As the children of Savitars, we have all grown up knowing that one day we may have to use our powers to kill. That day has arrived.”
She looked down at the fire in her hands and nodded. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her back and threw her arm out toward the enemy.
Kellan tracked the fiery orb as it screamed away through the sky. The ball slammed into the Ellvinian lines setting clothes, bodies and hair aflame. Mournful cries lit up the night. Unable to rein in their abject terror, many of those on fire ran back through the ranks of their countrymen and created more damage by spreading the fire. Others simply fell to the ground in thrashing, flaming heaps. The smell of burnt flesh drifted unpleasantly on the night breeze.
Jala launched herself back into the bedroom, fell to her knees, and retched into the corner.
Despite the ruin inflicted by Jala, the Ellvinian line did not break. The Elves simply moved the dead or dying out of the way and formed up again for an attack. The archers were no longer out in front. Maces and swords were drawn by the Battlearms as they moved forward. The Shiprunners had only their bare hands to show. Together, they took up a battle cry that rang out into the night. Lifting their weapons and fists into the air, the dark Elves charged toward the estate.
We will not be able to stop them all, Kellan thought as he watched them come, floating over the ground like wraiths.
The Draca Cats roared out a challenge deep in their throats and leaned back on their powerful hind legs, ready to pounce on the first Elf foolish enough to reach the courtyard first. But then, all at once, Maks stood to his full height and jerked his head north in response to a foreboding sound.
Jain! Inside! Maks snarled.
The Elves also heard the noise and ground to an abrupt stop, unsure of what they were hearing.
Kellan knew.
High over the land, two tubular streams of water coiling like large snakes, slithered toward the enemy. A figure could be seen riding each liquid serpent with arms outstretched guiding the movements of the water.
It was Reilly Radek and Digby!
Jala must have also recognized the sound because she staggered to her feet and rushed to peer over the railing.
“Reilly!” she screamed at her brother.
Even over the sound of the gushing sea streams, Reilly heard her and waved with a grin on his face.
Kellan saw him motion to Digby who gave a curt nod in response. Reilly then made exaggerated circular movements with his hands similar to what Alia performed at the pier. The wave Reilly was riding flowed faster in response to his weaving and seconds before the water slammed into the Ellvinian Army, Reilly jumped away from his stream.
Kellan’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Reilly fall through the air with legs and arms windmilling furiously. Just when Kellan thought for sure his friend was going to crash to the ground, Digby swooped in low with his wave and caught Reilly within the watery depths of his shifted water stream.
The jet carrying the two watershifters made an abrupt turn to the right and shot toward the open balcony where Kellan stood with the others. He sprang out of the way as the stream deposited the two soaking wet shifters into the bedroom and then collapsed into a lake-sized puddle in the courtyard below.
Kellan looked back outside to gauge the damage.
Reilly’s rapidly flowing torrent cut a swath through the Ellvinians, and the Elves caught up in the onslaught of rushing water were swept away south. The Ellvinian line finally did break then and all those still on dry land retreated to escape the danger.
The siege was off. For the moment.
A chill raced up Kellan’s spine when he heard the primal cry of Digby inside the guest chamber. It could only mean one thing. Someone just told him that his only daughter was dead.
CHAPTER 26
SURRENDER
Kane sat alone in the mayor’s darkened office and gritted his teeth against the screams coming from outside the estate. Having recovered from the deadly watershifting, the Ellvinians stepped up their efforts to terrorize by ferreting out more citizens hiding in the city and using their torture as a tactic to get the shifters to surrender.
Every cry of a Massan was like an arrow directly to the heart for a shifter. The blood oath within Kane’s body roared with the demand for vengeance and his body trembled from the strength of its resolve.
Twice more during the night, the Ellvinians tried to break past their defenses. Twice more they turned them back. But, the shifters were tiring. They would not last much longer. All those trapped within the estate looked to the royals for orders on how to proceed, but when it came down to it, the fate of Northfort rested in the hands of children.
And, this child never felt more out of his element.
Kellan and Kenley were more suited to leading men than he was. His preference leaned toward a more solitary existence on the periphery of life—a proclivity most likely attributed to the existence of his golden eyes. From a very young age, other children shied away from his glowing orbs and gave him wide berth. For most people, anything different was to be feared and he was certainly different.
Instead, he sought solace in the shadows, seeking knowledge through observation and shunning personal entanglements. Except Alia. Alia was someone he could have walked out into the light for, only now she was gone.
He reached out and ran his hand through Jain’s white coat. The Draca Cat was silent for once, and he was grateful.
Kane straightened when the door to the office slowly opened. His eyes, already accustomed to the darkness, had no trouble making out the old woman that shuffled inside and closed the door behind her. A gnarled hand thrust into the air toward the candles on the mayor’s side table and flared to life.
A fireshifter? If so, where did she come from? Even more strange, Jain did not growl at her.
Kane got to his feet and cleared his throat so that he could make his presence known without frightening her.
She turned her gaze to him, and Kane took a step back. Her eyes were completely white.
She chuckled at his reaction. “It would seem that you are not the only one who carries around the yoke of an anomalous eye color, Prince.”
Kane looked away, ashamed that he reacted in the same way he abhorred in others.
The old woman moved closer and stopped just inches from him. Without warning, her hand came up and slapped him across the face. Hard. “Snap out of it,” she growled at him.
Kane ignored the stinging burn on his face and glared at the woman. “May I ask what I did to offend you, my lady?”
She pointed a crooked finger at his chest. “You offend me by sulkin
g in a corner when the people of Massa require you to fulfill your oath! You offend me by wallowing over the death of a young girl who is happily in the arms of the spirits! And, you offend me by not realizing just how uniquely talented you are to end this battle with the Ellvinians!”
“Me?”
“Yes, you are a sightshifter, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“Then, do what you alone have the power to do!”
“Which is?”
“Surrender!”
* * * * *
Emile stalked through the muddy wet sand left behind by the twin tidal waves that crashed through Northfort with a snarl, his murderous glare locked on a circle of Battlearms tormenting two young Massan women by shoving them back and forth between them. Each time one of the girls was caught by a fighter, another piece of clothing was torn from her body.
The smaller of the girls lifted her hand to slap the fighter that held her and received a closed fist strike to the face for it. She crumpled to the ground in a senseless heap.
“Enough!” Emile hollered and the fighters immediately snapped to attention. He strode directly to the Battlearm who hit the girl and slammed his fist into the fighter’s stomach and, when he doubled over, brought his knee up into his face. The Ellvinian grunted and fell to the ground beside the girl.
Emile pointed to two other fighters. “Bring these two girls back to their people. If any of you lay one more disrespectful finger on one of the prisoners, I will have your head!”
“But, Second Samara said—”
“Second Samara?” he roared. “Are you a bloody Eyereader now or a Battlearm?”
The fighter bowed at the waist. “Of course, a Battlearm, Second.”
Emile glared at the circle of men in disgust. “Is this the way of Ellvinians? To debase innocent women outside of battle?”
“Well, no, Second, but the Massans struck first with the ground exploding, and the fire, and then those bloody waves! We lost good people!”
“Oh, they struck first, did they?” he snapped. “And, whose soil do we now stand on? Think on it and then tell me who struck first.” He turned and walked away without waiting for an answer. It did not require one. “Get those girls back to their people,” he shouted over his shoulder.
He cursed as he boots sank into the sand and headed toward the wooden pier built up around the merchant’s district. As if he did not have enough to worry about with Tolah on the loose and the Massans entrenching themselves within the mayor’s estate, now he had Samara getting involved in affairs where she did not belong. She was an Eyereader for Netherworld’s sake!
He scrubbed a hand down his face. He needed sleep was what he needed. He pulled his cloak tighter around his body. The bitter cold temperature was something he was also not prepared for. Although only a few days ocean voyage to the west, the island of Ellvin did not experience the drastic fluctuation in the weather as here on Massa. He found himself longing for the balmy breezes of his homeland.
Emile stepped up onto the wooden platform and walked to the Salty Dog, once one of the more popular inns in Northfort and now the Ellvinian headquarters. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. Samara was seated at one of the inn’s tables by the large fireplace in the back of the room. Emile strode up to the Massan bartender wiping down mugs behind the bar. “I will have spiced wine if you have it.”
The burly Massan eyed him malevolently and turned to pour the wine without comment.
Emile thanked the fellow as soon as the drink was in his hands and made his way over to Samara. Ignoring the two Shiprunners sitting with her, he grabbed a chair, spun it around and straddled it. “Is it safe for me to turn my back on the fellow behind me?” he asked Samara, nodding toward the bartender.
She waved a hand. “Do not worry. We have his wife and son. He will not be causing any problems.”
Emile glanced at the two Shiprunners. “Leave us.”
The sailors glanced at Samara and she nodded her consent. He watched them go and pulled his long black hair away from his face to take a sip of his wine. “You are commanding the Shiprunners now, Samara?”
She shrugged. “With Chandal now gone, they need someone to direct them.”
“Do what you must, but I will not have you giving orders to the Battlearms. Do you hear me?”
She leaned back from her study of the Massan maps and smiled. “Say what is on your mind, Emile.”
“You will not abuse the Massan prisoners, and you will not give orders to the Battlearms. If you try to do either again, I will send you back to Ellvin to explain to the Premier why you have hampered my efforts here.”
“Hampered your efforts? The Premier sent you here to conquer Northfort, Emile! You seem to be failing miserably in that regard.”
Emile looked back over his shoulder at the Massan bartender, who made no secret of the fact that he was listening to every single word.
“Keep your voice down,” he hissed at Samara. “The only reason we are having this conversation at all is because you had already given up every advantage we possessed before I arrived! I expected to find a cowered people, Samara, not a battlefield. Your orders were simple. Gain the trust of the Massans. Discretely send shifters back to Ellvin.” He threw his hands up. “Even Anah’s Coinholders could have accomplished that task.”
Samara’s faced hardened into a beautiful mask. “What about the Vypir, Emile? Who let that thing loose onto foreign land?”
Emile leaned back and exhaled. “I don’t know how that happened. Tolah must have boarded the ship somehow without anyone knowing.”
She tilted her head. “It would seem that we have both made mistakes then.”
He knew the Premier would be furious when he discovered the Vypir missing. “True enough.”
The door to the inn opened and a young Battlearm rushed in. “Second!”
Emile turned. “Aye, what is it?”
“The Massans have just sent word! They are surrendering!”
A mug clanked to the floor from the bar behind them.
“Surrendering?” Samara questioned incredulously and scraped back her chair to stand.
“Aye, they have indicated that they will surrender at dawn.”
“Well, then, Emile,” Samara said with a smile. “It may be that our mistakes are not insurmountable after all.”
CHAPTER 27
A BEACON OF HOPE
Her steady heartbeat against his chest represented his lifeline back to the world of the living. Beck concentrated only on that stirring sound as he worked to heal his injuries. He wished that he could reassure Kiernan that he was still alive, but could not do so. If he spared the amount of energy required to fill his lungs with enough air to speak, he would die in truth. He had to reduce his lung capacity to almost nothing as he zeroed his magic in on his bleeding heart.
The arrow penetrated the right ventricle. In anyone else, it would have been an unrecoverable fatal injury. In him, it was still up for debate. As soon as his mind registered what had happened, he forced his body to shut down just as he had learned to do during Mage training. In an agonizingly slow process, he went about repairing the damage caused by the arrow and in one infinitesimal step at a time, began to expel the shaft from his heart.
He knew it would take unwavering concentration to knit together the vital organ that kept him alive, so he had to tune out the frantic efforts of his wife to save him. He wished so much to be able to comfort her at this moment, but his desire to live for her was far stronger.
In spite of his best efforts to focus, he did hear Kiernan ask the Ellvinian fighter to take her life and his terror almost severed the flow of magic that kept him alive.
No! Please, Kiernan, hang on. I am doing everything in my power to get back to you. Have faith, my love!
Beck picked up the flow once again and went back to work, but still had the awareness to be overjoyed when the Ellvinian refused Kiernan’s request. He cried tears of pain when Kiernan began to recall some of the
special memories they had shared over the years and had to halt his efforts twice just to rein in his emotions.
When she finally fell asleep pressed tight to his body, a profound peace descended over him and he knew that now he could find the single-mindedness and endurance necessary to finish healing his wound.
Throughout the long night, with the beacon of her heartbeat serving as his guiding light, he inched the arrow further and further out of his body. With the arrival of dawn, he was at last able to allow more oxygen to fill his lungs, and his own heart began to pulsate more regularly as he started to work on the lesser muscle damage.
As the early morning sun peaked over the horizon, the arrow emerged fully from his body and clattered to the cave floor.
The small sound awakened Kiernan, and she threw the cloak off them and lifted her head in shock. “Dear, Highworld,” she breathed and picked up the arrow. “Beck?”
He tried to answer, but the effort of using his diaphragm to form words proved too much just yet, so he simply nodded.
She leaned over and placed her lips on his and he felt hot tears fall on his cheeks. “Are you going to live? Please tell me you are going to live!”
He nodded again and she hugged him gently. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Beck Atlan! Do you hear me?”
He tried to smile, but it hurt too much. “I…I will…try.”
She must have realized he was not yet fully healed. “Are you in pain? Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No. I just…need more time. Where…are we?”
“In one of the sea caves. I managed to get you away after you were shot, but the Ellvinians captured the others.”
“All right. Give me…a few hours, and I will be as good as new.”
She cupped his face in her hands and leaned in close. “Are you sure you are going to be all right? Promise me, Beck, that you are not going to leave me again. Please…” That last word was little more than a moan.
Island Shifters: Book 03 - An Oath of the Children Page 18