Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood (38 page)

One of the Havenport dockworkers explained to Airron that although the Elven people toiled during the daylight hours, they loved to sing and dance and give thanks to Elán at night. He assured a skeptical Airron, with a twinkle in his purple eyes, that the Elves really did know how to have fun.

As profoundly moved as he was in seeing an Elven village for the first time, he felt an odd detachment to the people. In contrast to the humans and Dwarves he grew up with in Pyraan, he was light on his feet, but compared to the indigenous Elves of Haventhal, he felt clumsy and heavy. He did not have their wraithlike movements and swiftness.

“Are you going to stand there with a stupid grin on your face all day, Elf?” said Rory, startling him from his study.

He did not realize he was smiling, but it vanished quickly when two soldiers in uniformed tunics of green and brown suddenly emerged from the trees on either side of them, hands on the hilts of their swords. “
Asha
, good folk. It is not often that we get strangers to our village. May I ask your purpose?”

Airron nodded and took his pack off his back. “Sure, I have.…”

“Slowly,” said one of the soldiers, lifting his sword a fraction out of its scabbard. “Whatever you have in your pack, bring it out slowly.”

Airron swallowed and reached in to retrieve King Maximus’ Decree of Purpose and handed it to him.

The Elf read it very carefully, continuing to eye Airron as he did. The document only disclosed that he was a messenger with an urgent communication for King Jerund. It did not mention the invasion; that was for the King’s ears only.

“I am Gardien Leif Oliver and this is Gardien Raine Aubry of the Haventhal Army. Sarphia is a six-day ride if you pick up horses at the next village,” he said pointing to a road that led further east into the Puu. “Your business is urgent. Would you like an escort?”

“No!” said Airron quickly. Then, in an attempt to cover his outburst, he said, “Thank you for your kind offer, brother, but we do not wish to be a burden. We will be able to find our way.”

Gardien Oliver nodded. “Very well, brother. Safe journey to you.”

“How far to the next village?” asked Airron.

“Half a league,” said Leif and then the Gardiens were gone, having melted back into the forest walls.

“Come on,” Airron said to Rory and guided him through the hard-working village and into the darkened forest beyond. The path was lit only by the mysterious Elven lights in the trees and spaced further apart here than in the village proper. After walking in silence for several moments, Airron turned to the fireshifter. “It is dark here. Why don’t you give us a little light to see by?”

Airron did not miss the slight stiffening of Rory’s shoulders.

“I can see clearly enough.”

“I guess you are right,” said Airron, the calm in his voice betraying nothing of the pounding of his heart. He was taking a chance on this confrontation so far from anybody else, but that was why he chose it. He did not want any innocents to get hurt if this turned out badly. “We can do without. Not to mention that it would be impossible anyway.”

Rory stopped in his tracks. “Pardon me?’

Airron smiled but his violet eyes narrowed dangerously. “You are no more a fireshifter than I and you know it.”

Rory glared thoughtfully at him for a moment before throwing his head back in a laugh.

Airron recoiled as the red-cheeked innocence that was Rory Greeley morphed into a dark, sinister presence with hate in his eyes.

“Well, well, one of you
Savitars
has brains after all. What gave it away?”

“Many things. Who are you?” Airron’s eyes never left the imposter as he started to circle around him. As the pretender walked, the air began to shimmer in the precursor of a bodyshifting, and the shape of a beautiful woman appeared in front of him.

Airron briefly mourned the death of the little fireshifter they all thought miraculously survived the destruction of Pyraan, but then quickly put it behind him. He would need all of his concentration on the task at hand. He shadowed the woman’s path around him, eyes never leaving her face.

She looked around to assure herself that they were still alone. “It will be nice to have an Elven form,” she said as if talking to herself. “It will come in handy as I travel through Haventhal.” She looked at Airron menacingly. “Of course, it would mean I have to kill you first.”

Airron tensed his muscles as he prepared to fight. “You killed Bret Schwan, I presume.”

“Of course. That is one body that will never be found.”

His jaw clenched. “And, Titus?”

“My, my, clever little thing.”

“Kiernan?” he demanded.

She glowered in frustration. “Unfortunately, no. The fool of a girl ran off before I could get her pendant. My brother will be furious with me!”

Airron’s suspicions were now confirmed. It was Avalon Ravener standing in front of him and the knowledge was not comforting.

She stopped and faced him. “Enough of the questions. It is
your
death I am most concerned with now. After all, it will fulfill the second of the prophecies that the bothersome Mage blabbered about.”

Airron could not help himself. “Second?”

“I have already betrayed the earthshifter by telling Kiernan that he no longer wanted her and then ensuring that the Princess caught him with two whores. Of course, neither knew that I bewitched Beck with a glamour spell, but that is beside the point.”

Comprehension hit him then and a rush of terror-induced adrenaline coursed through him, causing him to sway slightly on his feet.

So, it was to be him.

He was the one to die.

Better him than one of the others, he told himself shakily. Even so, he did not want it to happen. He enjoyed life too much.

He fixed the witch in a defiant stare. If she wanted his death, it was going to cost her.

“I guess I will have to satisfy myself with your pendant until I meet up with the Princess again. Toss it over.” Avalon held out her hand, and Airron acted. The air wavered before him as he shifted into a Meeko Lizard and with remarkable speed, scrambled for the witch’s throat with serrated teeth, sharp claws digging into the dirt. Avalon was just as fast, and her limbs disappeared and her body contorted down to the ground into the shape of a Puuvian Goliath Arachnid.

The lizard’s attack met thin air, and he tumbled into a vicious forward roll to slam hard against the trunk of a Ficus tree. The oversized arachnid, at least two hands in length, raced after the fallen lizard, swarmed up its leg and sank pointed fangs into the soft tissue of its stomach, injecting a fatal dose of venom into the bloodstream.

The spider’s murderous task complete, it scuttled back to the road and shifted into the form of Avalon Ravener. Not satisfied, the witch picked up Rory’s sword from the ground, grabbed the pommel with both hands and stalked to the Meeko lying on the ground. She grunted with effort and drove the point of the sword toward the lizard’s exposed underbelly. The Meeko barely managed to twist away in time and shifted into an eagle—the same eagle that saved the little Halfie child in the Balor Mountains a little more than two weeks ago.

The venom was already having an effect on his body, and it was getting hard for him to maintain his magic. Calling on every ounce of strength available to him, he flapped the enormous wings of the eagle and reached out to Avalon Ravener with sharp talons, raking viciously at her face.

She screamed in pain and three long welts pebbled with blood on her cheek. She swung her sword at the bird, but it wheeled around her and tore a chunk of flesh from her back with its beak.

Her answering counter was to shift into a primate of immense size. The muscular ape beat its chest once then used human-like hands to grab the eagle out of the air and smash it to the ground with sickening force. The eagle, dazed, attempted to lift off the ground, but was heaved into the air a second time and slammed to the earth.

The bird did not move again after that and lay broken on the path, blood pooling under its body. The air around the eagle flickered once, and the form reverted to Airron’s battered Elven body.

Avalon limped over to him. “Like I said,
Savitar
, second prophecy fulfilled.” She bent down and grasped his pendant, ripping it from his neck. After tucking the pendant away in her pack, she returned to him and reached out to put her hands on his head to bodyshift his form.

No!
Airron’s mind desperately urged his ruined body to respond. To get up, to roll away, to lash out at Avalon before she turned him into a shrunken corpse like the guard in Nysa. But, it was no use. His body was beyond taking orders.

Suddenly, a blue-eared kingfisher shrieked and dove down at Avalon, clawing at her head. The witch batted the bird away, but her head snapped around at the sound of running footsteps. Cursing, she had no choice but to flee.

Airron distantly registered the sound of the witch gathering her clothes from the ground and her hasty retreat.

Then, he felt nothing but cold. He could not remember ever feeling so cold. His body convulsed. He wished he had a warm blanket to throw over his shoulders, or a nice burning fireplace to warm his hands, or even a mug of Master Martyn’s ale.

Wait.

Master Martyn was dead, he thought faintly. They were all dead.

Airron smiled when he realized that he would not be alone. Where he was going, the shifters were sure to be waiting for him.

Chapter 22

T
HE
D
ARK
A
RMY

A
drian Ravener paced his tent like a caged tiger, fed up with the heat and the endless sand. There was sand everywhere—in his bedding, his clothes, and even in his food. If they did not get out of these accursed Sandori Sands soon, he vowed, there would be hell to pay.

He longed to travel through the green woods and highlands of Haventhal again. They were so close—he could see the forest edge just south of where he traveled—yet so far. Strategically, he knew that it was necessary to travel through the Sands. The Cymans with their Desert Troll heritage were at home here and moved quickly and efficiently over the land. It would have been neigh impossible to travel through the Du’Che Forest with fifty thousand soldiers. Even so, magically veiling an army of this size was wearing on his mood as much, if not more, than the sand.

The other advantage of traveling in the relative anonymity of the Sandori was that he had the privacy to set in motion his plans to summon the power he needed to win this war. Galen Starr’s death made the attempt possible now, and he silently thanked his old mentor for his long overdue demise.

Adrian glanced over at the young female Elf crouched in the corner of his tent.
She is a feisty little thing
. Even now, glaring at him with disdain from her lowly position on the floor.

He did learn something new about the Elves of Massa since two of his soldiers captured this female and her male companion. It started when three enormous brown bears stormed out of the Du’Che Forest and tore apart twelve Cyman soldiers before they were able to be put down. Peculiarly, during the rampage the bears continued to try to advance toward the tents holding the two Elves despite the mortal injuries inflicted upon them. It took a considerable amount of interrogation to get the testimony, but it was worth it. The male Elf finally admitted that he, and all Elves in Massa, had an inborn magical perceptivity with nature’s beasts and could command them at their behest.

The news was quite shocking to him. He knew that it could not be conventional mindshifting at work because animals just did not process thoughts the same way humans did. He had read that the Mages of old were able to communicate with the Draca Cats of Haventhal but—if the cats ever really existed, because nobody knew for sure—they were magical creatures, not wild animals.
Is it shifting at all or an unknown form of sorcery?
The boy did not know, and Adrian believed him. With the amount of stress put upon him, he would have said if he had known. Either way, it now required him to camouflage the army not just from Elves, but from the animals of the Du’Che as well.

He walked over to a table in his tent, poured himself a glass of spiced wine, and stared at his young captive. The Army was halted for the evening and he was alone with her. Unfortunately, her male companion had not made it through the interrogation. He succumbed to his injuries that very morning. It was just as well, he thought, as he eyed her appreciatively. He did not need the male, only the female. After centuries of looking upon Cyman women, the small feminine body of this little Elf fascinated him with her silver hair falling in silken strands down to the small of her back.