Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood (23 page)

By the time Beck, Rogan and Airron were finished with their deadly magic, there were only two Cymans left standing. One of them was Teag and he stumbled closer to the wall, bloodied and exhausted. He laughed bitterly as he looked at the carnage around him.

“We meet again, Massan,” he snarled up at Beck.

“Yes, we do,” Beck acknowledged.

The Cyman fell to one knee as he laughed manically, knowing the end was near. “Come off your wall and let us negotiate your surrender!”

Kiernan turned to one of the soldiers nearby. “Throw your sword over the wall,” she commanded. He hesitated at the unusual request. “Do as you have been ordered, soldier.”

Unsheathing his weapon, he did as she asked.

Kiernan watched the sword land and then sought out the Cyman standing next to Teag with her magic. The soldier snapped his head up to look at her and she slammed the link in place. Teag looked on suspiciously as his last remaining comrade walked to the fallen sword, picked it up and, with a mighty two-handed swing, took his head off at the shoulders.

“We do not negotiate with the enemy,” she said unapologetically.

Chapter 14

A
N
U
NEXPECTED
G
UEST

K
iernan made her way wearily back to the palace with Beck, Rogan and Airron, and on the way met up with Rory who was hurrying to intercept them. Kiernan had forgotten all about the young fireshifter.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“Your friend, Larkin, had me cornered,” he said angrily. “The girl has the arms of an octopus.”

Kiernan patted his shoulder. “I am sure she meant no harm, Rory.”

“I am not so sure about that,” he murmured. “Your father wishes to see you in Grace Hall immediately.”

Kiernan nodded in resignation. “Thank you, Rory.”

Grace Hall, named after her mother, the Queen Grace Kenley Everard, was the pride of Nysa. Accented in black marble, the entire concaved ceiling of the outer dome featured a remarkable painted replica of Nysa in a stunning display of color. Kiernan’s mother commissioned the fresco a year before her death, but fell ill before she could enjoy the magnificent outcome. Her father utilized the Hall for formal entertaining as well as to take commoner appeals. People traveled to Nysa from all over Iserlohn to petition the King and his vassals for everything from settling land disputes to seeking employment to requesting foodstuffs for their families.

Kiernan turned to the sound of hoof beats racing toward her from behind. Charging up on a splendid stallion, the mounted man pulled cruelly on the horse’s bit to stop the animal directly in front of Kiernan and her companions. She recognized the man as Lord Davad Etin, a house member of her father’s Court. He was finely dressed in a silk coat and trousers in the red and blue of House Etin, and his handsome face was pinched in disapproval as he looked down at her and bowed his head slightly. “So, the rumor is true.”

She sighed regretfully. As soon as she stepped off the parapet and the Iserlohn soldiers shied away from her, she knew this was coming. “Which rumor would that be, Lord Etin?” she asked coolly.

“How about the one where you and your cohorts kill five hundred men in cold blood using magic.”

She flinched inwardly. Outwardly, she remained unperturbed. “Those men, if you wish to call them so, were enemy forces who have invaded Massa from a land unknown, Lord Etin. Our actions were wholly justifiable and saved the lives of hundreds of Iserlohn soldiers who would have perished had they met those warriors on the battlefield.”

“So you say.”

“I do say and you will address me properly, Lord Etin! Your insolence is tiring and inappropriate.”

He nodded, more deeply this time. “Forgive me, Your Grace. The use of magic shifting and the arrival of monsters out of a child’s nightmare have me, and others I might add, a bit off balance.”

“I can understand,” she freely admitted.

He cleared his throat. “What would you have done with the bodies, Your Grace?”

“Burn them. Good day, Lord Etin.”

Without another word, she turned and strode into the castle. She could sense that Beck wanted to say something, but she kept her eyes to the front and led a hurried pace to Grace Hall. If she stopped now, her tenuous grasp on her composure would crumble to pieces.

The servants they met along the way gasped at the sight of the stomping Princess and either dropped low to the ground in a curtsey or fled in the other direction. Apparently, news of her shifting traveled to the castle much faster than she did. She forced down the butterflies in her stomach and stopped before the two Scarlet Sabers outside of the Hall.

The soldiers immediately knelt with fists to the ground in front of them. “Please rise,” she ordered. They did so and then one reached out to open the double doors gilded with a golden lion in the center while the other announced their presence.

“They may enter,” came the deep reply.

Her father was sitting stoically on his official throne, waiting. He was not a very tall man but possessed an imposing physique with broad shoulders and muscular arms and legs. He had dark, shoulder length hair with long sideburns and dark eyes that, when fixed on you, felt as though they could read every thought you ever had. At least that was what the twelve-year-old Kiernan had always thought. For some reason, the eighteen-year-old Kiernan was feeling the same way.

The long walk under the domed ceiling seemed to take a lifetime. When she reached his throne, she knelt before him, took a hold of his hand and laid her cheek upon it. It took all of her resolve not to cry. This man was home to her. He was love and safety and warmth.

Maximus stroked the back of her head. Despite the circumstances of their separation, she had always known that he loved her very much.

“It is good to see you, daughter.”

She looked up into those knowing eyes and blurted, “I just killed a man.”

“I heard.”

“I do not regret it, father. I did what I had to do. I only regret that the citizens of Nysa had to find out about me in this way.”

“It is unfortunate. You know how they feel about magic.”

Kiernan narrowed her eyes. “It is how
you
feel about magic, father. The people follow the lead of their King.”

King Maximus sighed in exasperation. “I do not wish to resurrect a six-year-old fight with you, Kiernan. The law is the law.”

She decided not to pull any punches. “Magic saved your life today,” she said, referring to the thwarted attack of the assassin. “But for magic, I may be Queen right now.”

The King snorted. “Bah! It would take more than a skulking coward to send me to the Highworld!”

Kiernan sighed as she stood, deciding to let the argument go. Her father was right. This was an old fight and one she would not soon win. She gestured behind her to the others. “Father, these are my friends, Beck Atlan, Rogan Radek, Airron Falewir and Rory Greeley.” The shifters bowed down.

The King stood. “Please rise. As friends of Kiernan, I welcome you to Nysa. Are you all shifters?”

All nodded affirmatively.

Maximus looked at Beck pointedly. “Are you any good?”

Beck look surprised, but answered the King honestly. “Yes, Your Grace. I am.”

Maximus grinned. “Better than the young fireshifter behind you I hope. The boy could not even create a flicker of a flame when I asked him to.”

Beck smiled and looked at Rory who had his eyes firmly on the ground. “He must have been nervous, Your Grace.”

The King waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever the reason, he did inform me of the tragic defeat of Pyraan.” He looked at Beck and then Airron. “I am sorry for your losses. I actually had the opportunity to meet both of your parents several times over the years and found them to be very fine people.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Dark eyes glittered dangerously. “We will get these bastards, you have my word. All of Iserlohn’s soldiers are being recalled to Nysa as we speak.”

Beck cleared his throat. “Your Grace, with all due respect, this is not a war Iserlohn can win alone. The combined might of all three lands will be needed to even stand a chance.”

“Bah! The Scarlet Sabers and Iserlohn Army can defeat these animals. They are made of flesh and blood, are they not?”

“Yes, but it is the Mage we are concerned about.”

The King waved a hand. “We will discuss further at dinner this evening.”

“Dinner? Father, we really do not have time…”

“Kiernan, there is etiquette to be followed even in times of war. This dinner with my Court has been planned for weeks now, and I do not intend to cancel. I will need their support in any case. Now, tell me about these Cymans,” he ordered.

Kiernan recounted what Titus told them of the Cyman’s human and Desert Troll genealogy and of the horrible experiments inflicted upon them by Adrian Ravener. The King gave her a penetrating look. “And, why do you have one of these creatures hiding in my stables, then? He smells and he is scaring the horses.”

Demons breath
, she cursed to herself. “He is one of the Cyman soldiers that we captured during the initial conflict with the enemy at The Crown Bluffs in Pyraan.”

“Why is he still alive?” he demanded.

“Originally, we kept him alive to gather intelligence about the invaders.”

“And now?”

She hesitated. “He…. is a friend.”

His eyes held disappointment. “I had hoped that your decision making would have improved with age. Princesses need to be wise in order to lead their people.”

Kiernan stiffened her back. “I am a shifter first, father. By your decree.”

The King paled and then said brusquely, “I will see you at dinner. Oh, and wear your House colors. That dress is entirely unsuitable.”

It was a dismissal.

Kiernan asked one of the servants to show Airron and Rogan to their rooms so they could wash before dinner. Beck walked with her to the bedroom she used as a child and stood with her now before her chamber door.

“I guess that went as well as could be expected given the circumstances,” he said, leaning his shoulder into the stone wall of the corridor.

“Went well? My father is a condescending, arrogant pighead! But, I suppose,” she conceded, “that he does genuinely care very much for the people of Iserlohn.”

“As do you,” replied Beck with a lazy smile.

“Yes.”

He reached out to touch the wavy curls framing her face. “I am discovering many new sides to the gangly girl who has been my best friend for six years. Sides I knew nothing about, Your Grace.”

“Do not call me that! Ever!” she said forcefully. Then, more demurely. “Do you like all my different sides?”

He pushed off the wall. “No.”

Her shoulders stiffened.

“I love all of your different sides. Even those same qualities of your father that he has passed down to you.”

“Brute!” She playfully reached out to slap him, but he caught her wrist in his large hand and an electrical current surged through her.