Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood (54 page)

Glancing around, he saw his Lords and Ladies, all expert blademasters, cutting into the Cyman horde fiercely with the battle calls of their Houses. He heard Lord Etin call out to his Flying Eagles and Lady Knapp to her Shadow Panthers. It made no difference. Their house colors were just as intertwined with the red and scarlet of his dead.

“Your Grace, get out of here!” a man screamed and then there was Colbie Nash, standing alone in front of him like an avenging angel with his feet spread and thrusting his deadly saber at any Cyman who dared approach his King. One reached out to try to unseat him again and lost his arm to Colbie’s sword.

Maximus hacked furiously on all sides, his horse dancing in a circle as he tried to defend from multiple attacks. Within seconds that felt like years, the rest of the Scarlet Sabers closed ranks around him.

“Nooo!” With horror, Maximus realized they were too late to help the beleaguered Captain. The strength of numbers won out and the animals surged over Colbie and brought him down under flailing fists, some of which held rocks. Maximus howled in rage, and broke free of the Sabers to use his warhorse to trample the Cymans crouching over Captain Nash.

“To me!” he screamed, and two of the Sabers slashed their way clear of the enemy to hoist their Captain onto the back of his horse, only to be cut down in the attempt.

This is it, he thought.

I am going to die right here, right now in this valley in front of Starfell.

Regret raked through him in those final moments, staring death in the face. Guilt that he had not waited for the Elves and Dwarves to arrive as his daughter had asked him to do. If he had, the island may have had a chance still to prevail. His men may have had a chance to live.

Responding to a harsh wrench on his arm, he dazedly swung his sword at a Cyman and sliced open his belly, the creature’s entrails spilling out onto the ground.

Then, unexpectedly, painful ear-splitting shrieks rang out over the valley from the west. Maximus whirled his horse toward the sound and gasped in panic, unable to believe his eyes.

There were hundreds, if not thousands, of children teeming into the valley like locusts! The implausible sight of children on a battlefield caused defenders and invaders alike to stop and stare in confusion. Dressed in loincloths and wielding small spears, closer inspection revealed that these were no children, but armed warriors. The pint-sized fighters circumvented the Iserlohn soldiers and crashed into the Cyman horde with deadly purpose. Maximus had never before witnessed anything like the scene playing out before his eyes, and was only grateful that the new combatants appeared to be on the side of the Massans. At least, he hoped that was the case.

Brandishing their weapons, they were causing a great amount of damage darting in and out between the Cyman giants, stabbing at their legs and inflecting debilitating injuries. It was impossible for the invaders to offer a defense against the ruthless little people due to their speed and stature.

The King did not waste the opportunity of the distraction.

His Captain still on his horse, he yelled, “Forward!” and dug his heels into his mount and thundered back into battle. Buoyed with hope, the Scarlet Sabers and Iserlohn Army smashed into the tide, hurling it back.

“Again! Forward!” he shouted, and a second vicious blow by the Massans broke the enemy line. The King sagged in unexpected relief. The Cyman Army was retreating, even if only temporarily.

He glanced to the side and found his liege lord. “Lord Etin! I must take Captain Nash to the healers!”

The confident Lord nodded. “Go! We will drive these bastards back to Starfell Keep.”

Maximus quickly shook his head. He would not throw any more lives away today. This was only a temporary retreat, and he knew that. “No! Withdraw. The soldiers must rest and regroup before the next assault.”

Lord Etin’s mouth tightened in disagreement, but he nodded stiffly. “As you command, Your Grace.”

“I do!” growled Maximus. He reached into this saddlebag for a rope, hastily threaded it under the unresponsive Captain and then tightened it around his own waist. Kicking his horse into a gallop, he sped toward the red and white flags mounted high on the tents of the healers. Soldiers scattered out of his way as he cantered forward desperately. Hauling on the reins as soon as he arrived, he had one leg over the saddle of the horse before it stopped completely and jumped down. He quickly untied Colbie and then gently laid him on the ground.

The blue eyes were open, but unseeing to anything in this world.

The handsome young Captain of the Scarlet Sabers, who Maximus had once hoped would become his son through marriage one day, had made the ultimate sacrifice of his life for his King’s life. As the healers looked on, he tenderly cradled the Captain’s head, his only wish at that moment that he could take the man’s place.

When he finally rose, he gestured to a soldier standing nearby. “Find Captain Franck. Tell him to retrieve our dead from the field and burn their bodies in a warrior’s tribute.” He looked down one more time at Colbie Nash. “Prepare the Captain’s body as well. He will be honored in death as he was in life. Summon me when the preparations are complete.”

He did not wait for a response, but remounted and made his way back to his tent with what was left of the Captain-less Scarlet Sabers following silently behind him.

Bloody hell but this one hurt. Colbie was more than the Commander of his Royal Guard, he was family. As was his father before him. Each and every man in the Guard pledged to lay down their life for him, but this was the first time in his twenty-five years as King that it had been necessary.

When he arrived at his tent, he swung down from his horse and ordered that a scout be sent to the south to ascertain whether the Elven or Dwarven Armies were close to their location yet—something he should have done before engaging the enemy. Fatigued, he went inside and sat heavily on the three-legged stool in front of his desk. He wondered where Kiernan was and hoped that she was alive and would stay as far from this place as possible.

A request for entry came from outside the tent, which he granted tiredly. It was Captain Bo Franck, his uniform torn and bloodied. A long wound down the side of this face still oozed blood. If he lived, thought Maximus, he would be disfigured for life.

Maximus yanked one of his boots off. “Good, you’re here, I…”

“You will need to put your boots back on, Your Grace.”

The King looked up with raised eyebrows.

“The Elves have arrived.”

“Thank the Highworld, Bo!” he said, his weariness fading with renewed hope. “Now, we may have a chance!”

“I am afraid, that is not all, Your Grace.”

“What? What is it?”

“Adrian Ravener approaches as well. Only he is accompanied by an army that makes the Cymans look like a child’s plaything.”

Chapter 31

T
HE
L
AST
H
OPE

B
eck led the
Savitars
into the Puu Rainforest at a ground-eating lope, the beauty of the jungle lost on the group as they concentrated solely on putting one foot in front of the other. They decided not to expend all of Rogan’s energy using magical fire until it was necessary, so Beck guided the way with a torch dipped in long-burning pitch.

It was a struggle to maneuver through the forest thick with vegetation and trees, and the constantly altering terrain and humidity quickly sapped their strength. The minutes turned into hours before they stopped for a brief rest to eat bread and dried beef the Elves had pressed into Airron’s hands on their departure.

Then, they ran again.

Beck continued to take periodic readings of the compass and it always showed an easterly heading. It never wavered from that position, and he began to wonder if it was working—especially, when an impenetrable wall of verdant rock materialized in the center of their path. He turned back to look at his companions, their faces and clothes covered in mud. Even Bajan, whose white fur was always impeccably clean, looked gray and limp. The pain in his ribs had begun flaring for some time now, but he pushed the ache down and away from him. He would deal with it later.

“What do we do?” asked Rogan, hands on knees, breathing heavily.

Beck looked around and up at the rock wall. “I don’t know. The compass is pointing east. This,” he said, pounding the leafy rock, “is east!”

“Can we scale it?” asked Kiernan, stepping back to get a clearer view of the wall’s height.

“Doubtful,” he said, shaking his head.

“We are wasting time,” said Rogan impatiently. “We have to find a way around it.”

Beck reached out with his magic. The wall itself, behind the profuse covering of jungle vines, was made of hard sandstone and immense in width and length and built several feet into the ground. Behind the wall was a mountain of earth leagues long. He sought out any weakness or crack in the stone that he could exploit to bring it crashing down, but found none. Broadening his search, he felt a void several paces along the north end of the wall. “Wait!” he shouted. “I think I found something.”

He pulled out of his shifting and walked over to the place in the wall where he sensed a hole in the stone. “Over here!”

Airron ran over to help him clear the dense vines and, when they were finished, a narrow tunnel appeared. The Elf bent down to look inside. “Let me have the torch!” Beck quickly handed it to him and watched as he thrust it inside. Airron’s voice came back with a hollow, tinny quality. “It is going to be wet, but it stretches far into the mountain.” His silver head reappeared. “I think we should give it a try. If we attempt to go around, it will just take up time we do not have.”

Beck nodded.

Airron clapped Rogan on the shoulder. “Rogan is going to have to light the way. The smoke from the torch will be lethal in such a confined place.”

“Rogan?” asked the Dwarf in disbelief, looking around at the others. “Did he just call me Rogan?”

“Slip of the tongue,” Airron said, pushing him forward. “Now, get in there, fireball.”

Rogan grunted and walked hesitantly into the cave, creating fire as he went. The Dwarf hated tight, enclosed places as much as Kiernan hated snakes.

Beck extinguished the torch and then motioned the others in before him and took up the rear. It was wet in the cave on the floors, the walls, and the ceiling. As soon as he ducked inside, he felt water trickle onto his head and down the back of his shirt, and it continued to drip incessantly as they trotted. For the next hour, they trudged through the ankle-deep water and the only break in the monotonous march was when Kiernan screamed out and kicked a rat against the tunnel wall. After that, all Beck could hear was the unremitting seepage of water and all he could see was Rogan’s flame flickering up ahead.

As more hours sped by, Beck was beginning to regret the decision to enter the cave when all of a sudden he felt a sharp pull in the water and Rogan cried out. “The water is rising!” Not only was it rising, thought Beck, but a rush of rapids was starting to develop and it was getting harder to maintain his footing as the water swirled just below his knees.

“We need to get out of here,” said Rogan, and Beck heard a slight crack in his voice. Due to his height, Rogan would be swimming long before the rest of them.

“Don’t panic,” he ordered.

“Grab my clothes!” yelled Airron. “I am going to scout ahead and see how far the tunnel goes.”

Rogan stopped and turned his flame around just in time for Beck to see Airron’s lanky body shrink down into that of a Hawthorne Lake sturgeon. The large fish leapt out of the water and then disappeared, moving smoothly and quickly into the cave. Beck reached for Airron’s clothes and boots in the soft glow of the magical flame and stuffed them into his pack.

“Let’s keep going,” he said. “Kiernan, hang on to Bajan.” They continued their advance, and the water was up to Rogan’s chest by the time Airron returned and shifted back to his body.

“There is moonlight up ahead, but we still have quite a way to go. We will all be swimming before we make it there.”

“Bloody hell, I don’t think I can make it!” cried Rogan. “The magic is draining my energy, and I am not sure how much further I can keep this up.”