An Oath Of The Kings (Book 4)

by Valerie Zambito

  Now, is the time. I must kill him now.

  Rayan pushed his way to the edge of the crowd and waited for the First Mage to draw near. If Rayan ran at him, he might be able to cast the killing curse before Atlan knew what was coming, but he didn’t dare. Better to kill him from afar.

  Only a few feet now.

  Rayan held his breath and shifted the dagger in his palm.

  Now!

  Rayan grunted and hurled the blade overhand straight at Beck Atlan’s heart.

  Without missing a single step, the First Mage flicked out a hand and the dagger flew off to the side and into the dirt. Atlan continued to walk on as though it were of no concern to him. That he had much more important matters on his mind than a trifling assassin’s blade.

  Demon’s breath, I can’t fight this alone! He’s indestructible. Rayan continued to watch the First Mage with hatred burning in his chest. Perhaps the cabal will have more success, but they will have to do it without me. It struck him as fortunate that he hadn’t killed them all yet.

  Rayan turned to leave, but paused to watch Atlan walk up to the King of Dwarves, lean down and kiss him on both cheeks. They shared a few soft words and then the First Mage dropped down next to Airron Falewir. The Elf labored to breathe now in rattling exhalations of air.

  Rayan sensed the second the First Mage erected a shield around himself and those in his immediate circle.

  “Can you save him?” the Dwarf asked, wringing his hands nervously.

  Atlan clutched Falewir’s head in his hands and massaged his temples. The First Mage hissed once through his teeth at what he found there and his touch became more frantic, moving down the Elf’s neck and over his chest. When he reached the two stab wounds on the sides, the Elf arched off the ground in a violent spasm.

  Rayan didn’t recognize the healing delve used by the First Mage nor did he intend to ever learn it.

  Atlan worked tirelessly for several long minutes despite the horror going on around them. Finally, he sat back on his heels and wiped a hand across his brow. Rayan couldn’t help but notice that the Elf’s breathing had evened out and color had returned to his cheeks.

  “Well?” the impatient King of Dwarves asked.

  “He will survive.”

  Rogan Radek patted Atlan on the back as he got to his feet. “Thank the Highworld that you arrived in time.”

  “What’s happening here, Rogan?”

  “We need your help.”

  “You have it. Walk with me and tell me what I need to know.”

  The Dwarf nodded. “Wait. Did Reilly return with you?”

  “He’s here. I left him and all of your Dwarf Mages to investigate a gathering to the north.”

  The diminutive King let out a sigh of relief, but for some reason, blushed. “Those people are no threat, just the Haventhal camp followers. We better go, but first I must ask. Where is your green-eyed Princess, Beck? Tell me she is safe.”

  Atlan’s mouth twisted in a pained grimace. “She traveled south, Rogan. That’s all I know.”

  And, that’s exactly where I’m headed, thought Rayan. You’re on your own, Mother.

  Chapter 39

  Mage Battle

  Exhaustion raked at Beck and he stumbled a step as he followed Rogan and their protectors through the battlefield. How could this have happened? A race war. Massan against Massan? Men, Dwarves and Elves locked in deadly combat? For what? A bloody throne?

  Every step he had taken across this island since Earthshine had led back here to Nysa. To this event. All roads lead to Nysa, Diamond had divined, but what was he supposed to learn from that? Why did people often have to face unspeakable tragedy to gain knowledge?

  A sharp pain lanced through Beck’s side and he had to wonder if it was due to his weariness or the disease consuming his body.

  A wayward thought hit him then.

  Was it possible that his grandfather made up the story of his illness to get him to drink the LifeFire Tonic? The Mages had a vested interest in his longevity in this world. Would they resort to lying in order to keep their leading apprentice working toward their goals for centuries to come?

  He shook his head. He would not believe that.

  “Why hasn’t the blood oath prevented this?” Rogan mused aloud.

  “The oath is not infallible, Rogan,” Beck replied. “While a shifter cannot knowingly use magic against an innocent, if he or she truly believes they are facing an enemy, the blood oath will be assuaged.”

  Rogan merely grunted, so Beck wasn’t sure if he was satisfied with the answer.

  The protectors crashed ahead and had to fling back several combatants who swung weapons their way. They were in the heart of the battle now. Close enough that Beck could see Elinor Morningstar mounted above the fray and observing her killing field with a satisfied expression.

  The casualties of war were many. An impossible amount of blood ran in rivers beneath their broken bodies. Wounded men. Dying men. Dead men. Beck refused to look at their faces for fear he would recognize one of them. He fought to steel himself from the emotions that boiled inside. The sadness, the frustration, the anger.

  Finally, he could take no more.

  “ENOUGH!”

  The single word backed by his sorcerous power sent everyone to the ground in fear. Weapons fell from fingers, hands covered ears. Everyone, that is, except Elinor Morningstar. Although clearly shaken, the treacherous noble lifted her chin in defiance and remained mounted when all others cowered.

  Beck waited until all was quiet and walked ahead through the kneeling soldiers. He pointed a finger at a young soldier in the black and white of House Gregaros. “Tell me, Tiger, why you fight your friends.”

  The young man looked up hesitantly. “I…I am following orders, Your Grace.”

  Beck placed his hand on the shoulder of an Elven Gardien. “What do you see, Tiger?”

  The soldier scratched his chin. “An Elf, Your Grace?”

  “He is a Massan!” Beck roared.

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Beck strode to a Dwarf and lifted him up by his elbow. “This is also a Massan!” He returned to the Tiger and jabbed a finger at him. “You are a Massan! I am a Massan!” He spun in a circle to encompass all those on the field as well as those that lined the wall of Nysa. “We are all Massans!” The last word flew from his chest in a vibration of sound that could be heard for a league.

  After the last echo faded away, the quiet was deafening.

  Beck wasn’t sure what he had expected, but this was not it. What are they thinking? Vinni had warned him that House Everard was dead, but he never imagined to see it manifested so clearly in the silence of the Iserlohn people. He scanned the crowd across from him. Bo Franck. Nic Cresson. Levon Stowe. Lord Hamilton. He had known all these men for years. Are they really going to stand by and let Elinor Morningstar get away with this?

  He looked up at movement on the wall surrounding Nysa. Lady Lillian Knapp was there along with several of her Shadow Panthers in among the citizens. They were leaving. All of them. Disappearing from view one by one.

  Beck hung his head, not sure what else he could do to get them to see the singular avarice in this war.

  A lone, mocking clap cut through the discomfited stillness.

  Beck slowly turned his gaze to Elinor. The noble, dressed in sleek black armor, sat regally atop a golden horse. He had to admit that she cut a commanding presence and it was one he never before noticed in his interactions with her at Court.

  “Oh, that is precious, Beck Atlan, and I couldn’t have said it better myself. You see, I’ve been thinking the same for quite a long time. We are all Massans, so why three separate kingdoms? We need one ruler in place in order to ensure the safety of our citizens and exploit the resources of this island.”

  “And, are you that one ruler, Elinor?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m afraid I might have something to say about that.”

  “Then you will have to take it up with
my Mages.”

  Five hooded men suddenly materialized on the ground in front of her.

  “Everyone step back!” Beck shouted, and at sight of the wizards taking the field, the soldiers were eager to comply with his demand.

  Beck sensed people moving into place next to him. Rogan and a fragile-looking Airron appeared on his right and Gil and Dax on his left.

  “First Mage,” Gil greeted with a smirk. “I see you’ve found the wizards you went searching for.”

  “Looks that way. Where is the rest of the Order?”

  “In Bardot. I so no need to summon them to deal with these novices,” he stated arrogantly.

  “Never underestimate your enemies, Gil. It will get you killed.”

  Elinor’s shrill voice interrupted their conversation. “Oh, no, this will never do, Beck Atlan. I am afraid your friends will have to sit this one out.”

  The five Mages joined their hands and their sorcery, and a blinding nimbus burst into existence around their bodies. Beck threw up an arm to shield his eyes, but could hear the elaborate incantation that they voiced in unison. He listened intently and recognized the sleeping spell just as Rogan hit the ground. Airron, Gil and Dax followed. All around him, soldiers tumbled into unconsciousness. He could only watch helplessly as the entirety of the armies on the field succumbed to the Mages’ spell.

  Beck stood there in disbelief.

  He was alone.

  ****

  They came without warning. The first lightning strike hammered down just wide of the mark but close enough to vault Beck into the air. He came down hard, and the world went silent and dark. His scalp tingled. Heat and energy buzzed around his body in painful jolts. He blinked his eyes several times to clear his vision. It worked, but the ground listed beneath him from the ensuing vertigo.

  He shifted to his hands and knees and saw the tips of his toes sticking out through his burned boots. The scent of burning fabric caused him to realize that his cloak was on fire. He rolled across the ground and wrestled free of the garment.

  The Mages stalked forward.

  From flat on his back, Beck threw out a hand and the earth in front of him groaned as it exploded upward into an earthen wall. Howling with effort, one of the Mages powered through the wall. He received a brutal punch of air to the face for it and stumbled backwards through the open hole he had just made.

  Beck scrambled to his feet and took to the air. He shot over the earthen wall and pointed his hand downward. Lightning flew from his fingertips catching one of the Mages in a direct hit, and the man crumpled to the ground in a smoking heap.

  The air around Beck suddenly turned dark and murky. He quickly dropped to the ground to maintain his bearings just as a gray, menacing mist wafted over him. He recognized it immediately. The Sea of Void. Kiernan, Rogan and Airron had been caught up in one created by Avalon Ravener years ago and the effects of that spell had haunted Kiernan for years.

  “Beck, save me! Beck!”

  He sucked in a breath. Kiernan appeared before him, crying and reaching out her hand. He had expected that the Void would show him his wife, but he had not expected her to look so real. She wore the red silk dress she had been wearing the last time he had seen her. Arm veils snapped in a non-existent wind. Long hair hung in golden waves over her shoulders.

  “Beck, I’m here! Help me! They took me, Beck! To get to you. Don’t let them kill me!”

  In the vision, three hooded men stalked up behind Kiernan with daggers raised in their hands.

  He couldn’t stop the instinctual panic that surfaced. “Kiernan! Look out!”

  She turned, but it was too late. The men bore her to the ground and stabbed her, over and over again.

  Beck felt his feet moving to help her, but stopped himself and took a deep breath. It’s not real. It’s not real.

  “Beck! Help me!” Blood pooled under Kiernan’s body and matted her hair. Her head slowly turned toward him, her accusatory eyes welling with tears.

  Beck’s heart ripped in two as he turned and walked away from her. “It’s not bloody real.”

  The mist collapsed in on him. Shapes coalesced and disappeared at random. Beck spun in a circle, magic sizzling at his fingertips. He tossed a seeking spell through the murk, and the outline of a hooded figure appeared on his right.

  “Bindeno!”

  The skulking Mage screamed and fell to the ground, helplessly bound. Sensing the man’s vulnerability, the mist descended, swathing him in a cocoon of nightmares. Beck never saw what they were, but the Mage’s screams went on for several unbearable moments before finally giving way to silence.

  The mist rolled past then, content at having claimed its victim.

  In the now clearing air, Beck could see that the Mage he hit with lightning was still on the ground and Elinor Morningstar still sat on her horse, but the three remaining wizards were nowhere in sight. Beck set a shield and an invisibility spell around him. The Mages would be able to find him if their seeking spells were precise enough, so he kept moving. But, the thought gave him pause. How can I focus my spells more directly and more potently? I need a channel of some sort.

  Running at a low crouch, he searched the long grasses beneath his hands, looking for something—anything—that might work. And, then he found it. A stick around eighteen inches in length. He hefted the switch in his hands and trickled a bit of magic down into the wood. The stick leapt in his hands. It works. Excited now, he pointed it at the ground and whispered, “Incendia!” The grass in front of him exploded in flames and he had to dive out of the way of the sudden rush of heat. Demon’s breath!

  “He’s over here!” he heard one of the Mages shout. “Locusi!”

  Beck felt the seeking spell find him and shred apart his cloak of invisibility. He whirled around, surprised to find one of the wizards not more than ten paces from him. He pointed with his rod. “Morbendi!” The stick vibrated in his hand as the spell blasted out through the end of the wood and hit the Mage in the chest. The killing curse that had always been meant to be administered only through physical contact worked all too well from afar with his new tool. The wizard fell to the ground, dead.

  Beck shoved the horrible image to the back of his mind and ran on. Right into the other two Mages who suddenly appeared in his path. The wizards joined their hands together and screamed, “Augemo!”

  The growth spell, more powerful with their combined sorcery, stretched flesh and limbs. Their bodies shot into the air, increasing in vast proportions until they stood as nightmarish giants before him, at least thirty feet tall.

  A darkening shadow appeared above his head as an enormous booted foot came crashing down toward him. Beck called upon his earthshifting to give him strength. Magic surged from the ground and infused him with elemental power. He lifted his arms and caught the sole of the boot in his hands.

  Muscles quivering with strain, he fell to one knee as he struggled to keep the giant foot from squashing him to the ground. With a heave of effort backed by his sorcery, he screamed and pushed, his twin powers converging inside of him.

  The boot lifted clear into the air and the giant tumbled back. Arms flailed as the Mage crashed to the ground. The concussion that followed sent a plume of dirt radiating out in a circle from the crater made by the oversized body. Beck ran toward the giant with his rod outstretched before him. “Bindeno!”

  The enhanced spell fused over the colossal Mage. Limbs thick as tree trunks snapped together and the giant bellowed his frustration at the top of his lungs.

  “Ah!” A meaty hand swept down and lifted Beck off his feet. He lost his hold on his new rod and it dropped to the ground. Beck cursed and pounded his fists against the fingers that held him. They squeezed tighter, crushing him in a vise-like grip. His feet kicked helplessly beneath him as he dangled in the air.

  Below, Elinor Morningstar guided her Palomino over to the giant. “Can you gag him with some kind of spell? I don’t want any interruptions.”

  The deep, bass rumble
of the giant’s voice vibrated through Beck body. “I can’t. He’s shielded.”

  “Why don’t we start burning all these soldiers to a crisp and see how fast he drops it then?” She pointed to an unconscious Rogan. “Starting with the Dwarf King.”

  Chapter 40

  Acceptance

  Elinor’s pinched face glared upward. “Well?”

  “It’s dropped,” the giant grumbled in confirmation.

  Instantly, Beck’s tongue thickened and his lips pressed together. He panicked with the instinctive need to pull air in through his mouth. His heart slammed up against his ribcage. His lungs seized. He kicked and punched at the giant once again.

  Calm.

  The word floated in front of his mind in a silent mantra. He took a deep breath in through his nose.

  Calm.

  Then another, continuing until his breathing steadied.

  “Wake the peasants!” Elinor screamed.

  The Mage holding Beck issued the counterspell and the soldiers on the battlefield began to stir.

  “My fellow Massans!” Elinor shouted for all to hear. “In blood and battle, in anger and in grief, a new Queen has been forged this day!”

  Murmurs of disbelief increased as more soldiers came awake, staring wide-eyed and in cowering fear of the two giants in their midst—one standing before them and other lying on the ground.

  “Tell me, people of Massa, do you wish more war? More death? More lightning and fire to sweep down and destroy? If so, I will give it to you.”

  “Massa doesn’t need a bloodthirsty tyrant!” This came from Captain Bo Franck.

  Elinor’s laughter echoed harshly. “That is most certainly what you will receive if you oppose me, Captain. But, we can end the bloodshed here. Now. You need only swear oaths of fealty to the new Queen of Massa. This very day. Every man, Dwarf and Elf.”

  “What about the Everards?” someone yelled out.

  Beck’s stomach lurched as the giant swung him around for all to see.

  “Ah, yes, here is your cherished oathbreaker. Tell me, people of Massa, what has Beck Atlan ever done for Iserlohn? Cosseted away in Bardot with his Dagarmon plotting who knows what? Thumbing his nose at Nysian politics and refusing to use his power for good?” Elinor swept down from her horse and shook her head in feigned disappointment. “Despite being chased from the city, he has returned to confess to his crimes. Adultery, abandonment of duty and murder.”