“One of these Mages is a bodyshifter.” Galen gritted his teeth in an uncharacteristic show of anger. “He stole the image of my sister, Gemini, after her death and used the form to get close to the Oracle.”
“How did they find her?”
“According to the kidnappers, who, by the way, were quite free in sharing information with their prisoner, the idea to build a cabal of Mages started many years ago. When stories of the Oracle grew after her exploits during the Ellvinian invasion, the leader of this plot ordered his men to follow her trail for years with the express purpose of finding out how to enter the Mage realm.”
Beck shook his head in disgust, convinced that an Iserlohn noble was behind all this. “Can the Oracle still realmshift?”
“I’m afraid not. She walks only one realm now. The Highworld.”
Her death hit him hard and reminded him that he had yet to properly grieve Maximus’s passing as well. Two powerful people who used their lives for good were now gone from the world. It made him think of Vinni’s words that he needed to find himself. To accept himself. What did that mean? Yes, he often felt strangled by his titles—those he was born with, those he inherited through marriage, and those he earned by fulfilling his blood oath. Primarily, because he never had any choice in the matter. So, who am I? Who do I want to be? I must now choose, Vinni said. But, why? Why is it so important?
“I better get back. See if I can lend a hand.”
Galen put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Wait.”
The disquieting tone of that single word suggested a topic of great significance. And, most likely something I don’t want to hear. “What is it?”
“The LifeFire Tonic.”
“What about it?”
“You must drink it, Beck.”
“I will admit that I’ve been tempted, but I have decided against it.”
“You are First Mage. You cannot succumb to weakness. You must stay strong.”
“I can’t drink the tonic, Grandfather.”
“Why?”
“Kiernan. She is my weakness.”
“And, she will not drink?”
He shook his head. “And, I refuse to leave her behind. I will take the journey of life by her side and when it is time to enter the Highworld, we will do so when nature dictates.”
“If you do not drink, you will be letting her go sooner rather than later,” he said softly.
“What does that mean?”
“I am sorry, but your body is diseased, Beck. You will be dead within a year if you do not drink the LifeFire Tonic.”
“How do you know this?” he asked in a surprised hiss.
“I probed your body when I healed your shoulder. A malignancy is there within your cells.”
Time stopped. His life flashed before his eyes. The blood oath roared, demanding acquiescence. Demanding survival. “It’s a decision that will have to wait,” he said calmly, belying the cacophony of emotion rippling through him. “Right now, I have to find a way out of here.” With that, he walked away, determined to put distance in between that devastating news. He still managed to hear Galen’s last whispered words.
“Don’t wait long, my child. Don’t wait long.”
Beck clenched his jaw and strode across the cracked ground to where the sorcerers had gathered before the tent. Hundreds of white-robed figures talked in small groups, studied ancient texts or worked together to cast spells in tandem.
Kane and Kellan stood apart and looked on critically, as anxious as he to get back to Massa after hearing of the disappearance of their mother.
“You would think that with that many Mages working on this, they would have found a solution already,” Kellan stated in frustration as Beck approached.
“Don’t worry, Mila will be there waiting for you when you get out,” Kane teased.
Kellan raised his eyebrows. “I remember fondly a time when you did not talk.”
“I talked when I had something to say.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” he grumbled good-naturedly.
Beck smiled at their banter. His sons. Kellan with his easy smile and abnormally large physique. Kane with his intelligent golden eyes and the omnipresent Sword of Iserlohn peeking up over his shoulder. “Anything yet?” he asked.
Kellan shook his head. “No. But, they have learned that if we can create some kind of magical pathway to Massa, we can sever the spell blocking the barrier.”
“Magical pathway?”
“Another Mage on the other side, perhaps? Do you have any Dagarmon in the group you brought from Iserlohn?”
“I did not bring them,” Beck snapped. “They just showed up. But, to answer your question, no. There are no Mages with me.”
“How would we be able to connect or instruct them from here even if there were?” Kane asked.
Beck ran a hand over the stubble on his chin, his hope fading fast that they would ever be able to find a way out. It was quite possible that Gil Jordin would eventually decide to come looking for them, but when would that be? Certainly it would take weeks before the Dagarmon leader grew concerned enough to make the journey.
Kane’s golden eyes suddenly widened. “Wait! I have an idea.”
Beck straightened at the excitement in his son’s voice. “What?”
Kane did not answer at first. He simply stood there silently, eyes closed for several long moments making Beck want to scream.
“Yes, he’s close! I can feel him,” he finally said.
“Who is close?”
“Jain,” Kellan answered for his twin. “I feel Maks, too. They’re coming this way.”
Panic swelled in Beck. “The Malakai will kill the Draca Cats if they appear in Torg!”
“I don’t think they’ll have to go that far,” Kane answered. “The connection is already strong. I may be able to make contact now.”
Eager murmurs raced through the Mages that were near enough to hear, and soon the others moved closer as Kane made an attempt to reach Jain.
You can do this, Kane, Beck silently implored. Please, son.
When Kane opened his eyes, they were black.
“He did it!” Kellan exclaimed.
“Test the barrier!” one of the Mages yelled out and one of the wizards ducked inside the tent.
“It’s open!” came the immediate, muffled reply.
Beck turned to Kellan. “Have all the apprentices taken the oath?”
“Yes, we have. Galen made sure of that.”
“Good! Hurry now! Gather the Dwarves and go on through the veil. I’ll meet you at the beach.”
When Kellan nodded, Beck sprinted back across the landscape and found his grandfather where he had left him. He skidded to a stop. “The seal between worlds is open!”
“Oh, what wonderful news, Beck,” Galen said with a tight squeeze of Beck’s shoulder. “Thank you.” He gave him a sad smile. “I guess this is farewell once again.”
“Yes.”
“Take the advice of an old man. Let go of old grievances and accept what is. Accept who and what you are. You’ve only used a fraction of the power bestowed on you. You’ve become complacent. Accept!”
“More Halfie riddles?”
“Oh, my dear child, a Halfie has nothing on me,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye.
****
When Beck awoke in Massa, he wore a smile. As much for the joy at seeing his grandfather as in the fact that he was now moving toward his goals again. Toward Kiernan.
He crawled out of the tent into the deserted village of Torg and then stood.
No, not quite deserted.
Gemini Starr waited on the path for him, her long, gray braid lying over one shoulder.
Beck sucked in a quiet breath. He had loved this woman very much and the sight of her unnerved him.
“The woman who wants my head, I presume?” And, the one who deceived the Oracle. The imposter stood silently staring. Beck shrugged. “You know, I don’t particularly relish the idea of fighting a wom
an.”
“Be at ease then. I am no woman.”
“In that case…” Beck struck. He threw his hand out, unleashing a powerful ball of air that should have taken the Mage from his feet and flung him into the rainforest. It didn’t even touch him. The air dissipated against the shield erected around Gemini’s body.
A clap of thunder discharged alarmingly close and the ground exploded in front of him. He cursed and dove out of the way, rolling across the ground with the dull reverberation of the blast ringing in his ears.
Thick braid flying behind, the Mage sprinted toward him, volleying spells as he charged.
Beck dug his fingers into the ground and the dirt rolled up and over his body in a protective shell. It wouldn’t last, but it would draw the Mage closer. He waited beneath his makeshift covering while spells relentlessly assailed the earth around him.
Now! With a growl, he burst out of the ground, a full earthen armor covering his arms, legs and head. The Mage flew back from the explosion of dirt. Beck stalked forward and drove a boot of stone at the wizard’s face.
The air shimmered and Gemini Starr vanished and, in her place, the hirsute body of one of the Malakai. The ape caught Beck’s foot in an enormously strong grip of his own and pushed. Off balance, Beck stumbled from the unwieldy weight of his armor and went down.
The Mage was on him in an instant, linking his fingers together and pounding Beck’s chest in a hail of two-handed blows. Chips of stone flew in all directions as the sorcerer hammered a hole in his armor and was getting dangerously close to the vulnerable flesh beneath.
A powerful fist struck him across the jaw and white dots appeared before his eyes. All attempts to come up with a spell failed. After the third hit, the white turned to black and he could no longer deflect the flailing arms.
“Hey, ape!”
The shouted words stirred Beck from the brink of unconsciousness. The fists stopped. The heavy weight lifted off his body.
Frightened howls followed.
Beck shook his head to clear his mind and let the rock armor slide from his body. He turned to the side and was confronted by the oddest image. The Malakai hopped in a circle, waving his hands over his head and screeching in alarm.
Beck focused his gaze.
A swarm of bees the size of birds buzzed furiously all around the ape’s body. Bees that could not possibly exist in this world. Unless…
Kane walked into view. His golden eyes ablaze with anger.
At sight of him, the Mage figured out that the bees were an illusion and spun on Kane, his large teeth snapping aggressively. A furred hand flicked and a rock the size of Beck’s head hurtled toward his son.
“Divergia!” At Kane’s shouted command, the rock veered harmlessly off to the side.
The spell drew Beck’s attention to the fact that his son truly was Mage now. Still, old habits die hard. As the ape charged forward, Kane reached a hand over his back and unsheathed the Sword of Iserlohn. The blade sprang free with a lethal rasp. Kane cut the next stone missile out of the air with the first swing and took the head of the Malakai with the second. The body hit the ground and the simian form slipped away, revealing the man beneath.
Kane walked by without a second glance at his victim and knelt next to Beck. “Are you all right?”
“I will be,” Beck answered shakily and allowed Kane to help him to his feet. “Did you find out how long I was trapped?” he asked, praying it had only been a few hours.
“Ten days.”
“Ten days!” Kane’s answer struck horror in his heart. “We must hurry!”
Beck limped along the path out of Torg as fast as his injuries would allow. The sound of many voices—too many—stopped him at the edge of the clearing at the beach. A hundred had turned into hundreds.
An argument danced on Beck’s lips, but he quickly suppressed it, remembering his grandfather’s words. I must accept what is. He suddenly felt lighter, more in control. It’s easier to forge ahead when you have acknowledged your surroundings.
Beck looked out at his followers. His army.
Kane had joined Jain and had a hand buried in his fur. Kellan stood with one arm draped around Maks and the other around Mila Stowe. Reilly Radek and the five Dwarves were there along with the protectors, Haiden, Gregor and Iben, and the Wildcat army of soldiers. And, of course, there was Tristan, the young leader of this motley group.
All fell to a knee when they saw him.
Suddenly, feeling overwhelmed, Beck swallowed. “I’m back,” he said, lamely.
A loud cheer went up and all faces looked up at him expectantly, placing all their faith in him. And, I accept. Not in taking responsibility for the choices of others, but in accepting that I am a leader. I may fail at times, but I will never fail to keep trying to get it right. Right now, getting it right meant abandoning his search for Kiernan to save Nysa. The decision left him numb inside.
“I must return to the Sarphia at once, but only the shifters will be able to travel through Aquataine with me.”
Tristan rose to his feet. “Don’t worry about that, King Beck. Except the guards and ole Arlen here,” he said, reaching up to pat the shoulder of the Cyman, “everyone here is a shifter.”
Digby is going to love this, Beck thought with an inward groan.
“We better hurry,” Tristan added, signaling to the others to start packing their belongings. “We just received word moments ago. The Dwarves and Elves are attacking Nysa.”
Chapter 35
A War of Races
The Dwarves and Elves surrounded the city of Nysa on all sides. It had been two days since Jala had been murdered and still no word from Gage Gregaros. No severed head of Lady Morningstar. The time for inaction had passed.
Yet, the knowledge did not prevent the niggling of doubt that wormed its way into Airron’s mind. This didn’t feel right. Massan against Massan. A war of races. Morningstar had pushed and prodded them to this moment, but why? Why drag them into Nysian politics?
Airron fidgeted atop his Haventi, the warmth of the rising sun and his wife’s body burning into his back. Melania squeezed her legs in a show of reassurance. She would ride with him—at least for a short amount of time—and there wasn’t a bloody thing he could do about it. At least Izzy was safe to the north with the camp followers where no harm could come to her.
He tossed a glance over his shoulder at his wife’s new personal guard. He couldn’t remember the Gladewatcher’s name, but the look he gave the Elf should be sufficient enough to let him know what would happen should he let harm come to the Queen. The Gladewatcher nodded. He understood.
Further behind, one thousand Elves sat atop their horses in perfect formation. Oh, the burden, he thought. How many times had he looked to Thorn with a jealous eye for all the fawning and adulation the King received? How grand it all looked to the outsider from Pyraan. But, there was nothing grand about consigning men to their deaths. There would be casualties—no avoiding that. He might even be one of them. Unless, of course, he could get to Lady Morningstar and end this war before it even started.
It’s time. Dear Highworld, help us all.
He looked to his left, where the Dwarven Army was fanned out to the west. On foot, most of them. And, angry. Airron could hear their low, guttural chants of “Jala” from here.
“Wave the flag!” he ordered the banner holder next to him. At the abrupt command, the young Elf almost dropped the green flag he held. After hastily straightening it out, he stood in his stirrups and waved it toward the Dwarves.
Drums rolled in response, signaling the start of battle, their ominous beat threatening and uncompromising.
“Forward!” Airron yelled out and nudged his horse out in front of the slow-moving army. He swept the line. “Keep a tight formation! If so much as a mouse gets through your ranks, I will have your hides!”
He yanked his horse around and galloped ahead. When he was a good distance away, he pulled the Haventi to a stop and leaned back against Melania. �
��You’ll stay to the back? Away from the fighting?”
She placed a soft kiss in the crook of his neck. “I promise.”
He wanted nothing more in that moment than to turn around. To take his family and the Elves and return to Haventhal. Airron Falewir could have made that decision. King Airron could not. “I must go.”
“I know,” she murmured against his skin. “Come back to me.”
“Never doubt that, my wife.” He patted her leg and slid from the horse. He undressed and handed his clothes to her and she made no effort to hide her gaze. With a chuckle, the air shimmered and he shifted into his hawk and shot into the sky.
The brisk current allowed the hawk to soar low overhead, razor-sharp vision picking out colors and shapes. The ground below trembled with movement. The morning rang with the sound of hoarse cries. The scent of fear and bloodlust coated the air. The hawk flew on, unconcerned about anything but locating its quarry. So intent was the search that it did not sense the other bird in the air until sharp talons sank deep into its flesh. The hawk screeched and lifted its legs. The two birds locked talons, sending them into a violent spin toward the ground.
The air flickered once again. The hawk’s gaze grew fiercer. Claws lengthened. Gray feathers turned yellow and freckled with black spots.
The attacking bird let out a frightened shriek at sight of the leopard eagle and darted away. The eagle let it go. It had other prey to be about.
The sounds below swelled as the humans picked up their speed. Time was running out. Zooming in closer, the eagle passed over many heads until finally spotting the one it sought. An avian screech tore from its mouth as it dove down and landed at the rear of the army of men.
Airron shifted and ran at a low crouch through the grasses behind the advancing soldiers. He grabbed a straggler from behind and silently took him to the ground with an arm wrapped around his neck. They struggled for a few moments, but Airron was stronger and kept tight pressure on the man’s windpipe to drown out any cries. When the man lost consciousness, Airron peeled the trousers and tunic from his body and quickly put them on. He slapped the man’s helmet on his head and sprinted forward to catch up with the others.
An Oath Of The Kings (Book 4) Page 22