Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood (47 page)

He tried to yell out to him, to warn him, but no sound issued from his mouth.

His father’s face was crazed and wide-eyed as he raced along the narrow and uneven road that ran through the sparse forest behind the house. He tried to maneuver a sharp corner and the King’s men gained on the small wagon. Predictably, one of the back wheels caught on a rut, and the wagon bed swung around the horse and smashed into a tree, sending all three occupants sailing through the air to land hard on the ground.

Both of his parents were killed instantly.

King Rik was right—it was his fault. The elder Radeks died in an impulsive attempt to save their son from exile. The only reason Rogan survived at all was that he landed on his mother’s soft body before hitting the ground.

“Rogan!” He was jolted out of his memory-filled trance by Dillon. “Can you hear me?”

Rogan held up his hand to stay Dillon, walked a few feet away into the trees, fell to his knees and vomited. He remained that way for several long moments and was grateful that neither Janin nor Dillon tried to approach. It surprised him that he had known all along what really happened to his parents but suppressed the memory because it was so painful. All it took was one glimpse at his childhood home to trigger the recollection of the events that transpired on that day.

There was consolation in the remembrance as well, however. He could now vividly recall the faces of his mother and father, heretofore always indefinable, shadowed visages. He could now clearly feel the profound love they had for him. He was never abandoned. He was loved and protected until the very end. The knowledge of these truths was an antidote for something in him he was not aware was in need of healing.

When he finally felt like he had control of his emotions and nausea, he walked shakily back to his companions. He braced himself for a taunt from Janin, but she only looked at him with concern in her eyes. “Are you all right? Do you want to keep going?”

He nodded with a grateful smile. “I have no other choice.” He held out his hand to Dillon. The Dwarf looked at him sideways but took his hand. “I remember you. I remember everything. It is good to see you again, old friend.”

Dillon pumped his hand firmly and slapped him on the back. “About time!”

“Your memories came back to you?” asked a shocked Janin.

“Yes, and they were not all pleasant. Now, I must hurry and retrieve my pendant so I can reunite with my friends.”

He watched as Dillon and Janin glanced at each other. “Is there a problem?”

“No problem,” said Janin. “As long as you realize we are coming with you to Sarphia.”

Rogan began shaking his head. “No, it is too dangerous…”

Janin laughed aloud. “And we have been on a picnic this whole time?” she asked.

“You do not understand what we face.
I
don’t even know what we face, but it will be formidable magic to be sure.”

Janin picked up her pack from the ground at her feet. “Discussion over. We are coming.”

Dillon nodded his agreement.

Rogan shook his head, but was secretly grateful. It would be nice to have his two Dwarven friends with him. If the situation became too perilous, he could always send them away then. “Have you seen anything?” he asked.

“No one,” replied Dillon.

“Well, be prepared. The King’s men are near, I am sure of it.” Rogan watched them both nod in a form of grim excitement that only a soldier can appreciate and then turned and led the way through the trees. He recalled from his memory the back door and thought it would be safer to go in through there.

Circling around the house quietly at the line of trees, the trio stopped at the edge of the clearing in back and then cautiously approached the back door at a running crouch. Next to the door, off to the side, was a single window and Dillon hurried over to it, squatted under the sill and popped his head up to look inside. He shook his head to indicate he could not see any movement. Slowly, Rogan proceeded to the door and pushed inside, a flame of fire held out in front of him.

He heard Janin whisper very softly, close to his ear. “Forget what I said earlier. I love when you do that.”

The tips of his ears burned with embarrassment, but he continued into the room off the back door, which turned out to be a kitchen. There was not much to see, so he passed through into a living room that had two additional interior doors branching from it, one on each side of the house. He went into the one on the right. The only furniture it contained was a bed and a large chest sitting near the door. He knelt down and held the flame up so he could examine the contents. There were clothes, shoes, and a few pieces of jewelry, but not a pendant. Pocketing the jewelry, he went to search the other room. Dillon and Janin were already inside, but there was nothing to see—it was completely empty.

“It has to be here!” growled Rogan, frustrated. He went back into the living room and then the kitchen, but his search turned up nothing.

Suddenly, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye outside the window.

“Get down!” he shouted just as the front door opened and a torch was hurled inside the living room. The oil from the pitch dripped onto the threadbare carpet and immediately went up in a blaze.

Rogan thrust out his hands, gathered the flames together into a cohesive ball and then snuffed out the energy of the fire with little effort.

“Come on out, shifter!” shouted a voice from outside. “Do it peacefully and no one will get hurt!”

He crawled over to one of the windows in front of the house and peered out through the wooden slats that covered it from the outside. “There are six Iron Fists out there,” he whispered to Dillon and Janin as he scrambled back to them. “Those are your fellow soldiers out there. Go out the back now, and they will never know you were involved.”

Dillon reached out to put his hand on his shoulder. “I am here, Rogan, because it is the right thing to do. I could never live with myself if I left you to handle this on your own. She’s here,” he said, jerking his thumb at Janin, “because she likes a good fight.”

Rogan turned to see that Janin still had the same excited glint in her eyes he had seen earlier. He shook his head. “I have to find a way to do this peacefully. I cannot kill innocent men.”

“We can still thump them pretty good,” replied Janin.

“Either way, I will not go back to that cell. Too many lives depend on it. Ready?”

After receiving a nod from his companions, Rogan got to his feet, sprinted toward the door, and shouldered into it sending splinters flying as he sailed out into the evening air and dove to the side. Dillon and Janin were right behind him.

That was when all hell broke loose.

Chapter 27

A
QUATAINE

B
eck tried with all of his considerable might to control his downward drop, but could not gain purchase in the steep tunnel, smooth and slippery with water and moss. He could hear Bajan scrabbling just as furiously behind him, roaring and spitting all the way. After what seemed like a lifetime of falling, Beck heard water rushing below him seconds before he plunged into its warm depths. Using his arms and legs to propel to the surface, his head broke through just as the Draca Cat crashed into the pool beside him.

Shaking the water from his eyes, he studied his surroundings. To the left and right, miniature waterfalls that originated from some unseen source splashed down into the lagoon where he now treaded water and framed a crescent-shaped, white sandy beach. Crystallized stalagmites jutting up from the sand reached for their stalactite kin hanging from the cathedral ceiling resembling the open maw of a hideous sea creature. Higher still was what appeared to be a sky studded with millions of emeralds, and their glow blanketed the atmosphere in a soft green hue.

Past the beach, Beck spotted another lagoon and cave opening, and voices and noise drifted to him through the aperture. Many voices.
There are people in there!

“Hello! Over here!”

A group of people were emerging from the second pool and hurrying across the beach, one man waving his hand frantically at him.

Beck paused.
Are they nude?

“Do not be afraid. Please come out of the water and join us.”

Cautiously, Beck swam toward them until he could walk out onto the shore, Bajan beside him. No, they were not nude…. but not quite clothed, either. People…. but not quite human. Their flesh-toned bodies were androgynous with all of the shapes and angles that normally distinguished male from female smoothed out. Yet the face of the man beckoning to him had a definite masculine cast and the woman next to him was decidedly female.

“I am Beck Atlan,” he said nodding his head in greeting. “And, this is Bajan.”

The people made little murmuring sounds of delight at the introduction of the Draca Cat. The same man spoke again, a very tall and lean fellow. “Greetings, Master Atlan, my name is Digby. Welcome to Aquataine.”

Now that Beck was closer to the man, he puzzled over the sound of his voice. The only way he could describe it was wet, as though spoken around a mouthful of water. Beck narrowed his eyes.
Are those gills on the man’s neck?
Impossible, he thought, shaking his head.

“Digby, what is this place?

“This is our home, Aquataine,” came the slurpy reply.

Suddenly, there was a shout and a splash from the second cavern, and a young Aquatainian boy rode in through the opening at tremendous speed on the back of what looked to Beck like a porpoise. At a slight movement of direction from the boy, the porpoise leapt into the air and then dove down under the water disappearing from sight. A heartbeat later, they re-emerged and shot up out of the water again in a high arc, the boy clinging tightly to the leathery, slick hide with his knees and roaring in unrestrained laughter. Beck shook his head in wonder and watched the playful pair turn around and vanish back into the cave.

Bajan bumped him from behind, urging him to get on with business. He turned back to the only man who had spoken. “Look, Diggy….”

“Digby,”

“Sorry, Digby. Forgive us for intruding. It was quite by accident that the grate we found opened up causing us to drop into…. Aquataine. We would appreciate your help in returning to the outside as quickly as possible.”

Digby stared at him and then motioned for Beck to follow. “First you must meet with the Elders at the Temple of Grotte.” He started to protest, but Digby stopped him. “You have no choice, Master Atlan. It is the law in Aquataine. Any outsider who discovers our world must meet with the Elders before they can leave again.”

He bit back a retort and nodded, figuring it would be faster to just meet with the Elders so that he and Bajan could be on their way.

Beck followed Digby through the stalagmites. Curious, he asked, “Digby, why is it so light here? Not only is it evening, but this place is so far underground, it should be dark all the time.”

Digby pointed up toward the cave’s ceiling. “Glow worms.”

Beck squinted up at the luminescent pinpricks of green light on the ceiling of the cavern that looked like emeralds. “Glow worms?”

“Yes, the worms are our only source of light and because they are nocturnal creatures, they glow at night and sleep during the day. So, in Aquataine, day is night and night is day,” he said proudly, as if the Aquatainians had discovered some form of logic as of yet beyond those that dwelled on the land above.

“I have never seen a glow worm before.”

Digby shrugged. “Oh, they are all over the island if you look close enough.”

When they reached the end of the beach before the opening to the second cavern, Digby led Beck and Bajan to a small raft tethered to one of the stalagmites. They boarded and remained standing as Digby took hold of a long pole and guided them into the waterway. The rest of the Aquatainians simply dove into the water and began gliding through the lagoon with the same ease as the porpoise.

“Digby, does anyone in Massa know about Aquataine?”

“Not many. We use the grates whenever we have to go to the Surface World for supplies, but since you must have the use of magic to open them, visitors are rare.”

“Magic?”