Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood (56 page)

“King Jerund J’El, what say you?” shouted Adrian.

The Elven King’s face remained coolly impassive as his calculated gaze fell on Adrian, long silver hair falling over his shoulders from under a burnished golden helmet.

Thousands of men on both sides waited for the Elven King’s response.

“We fight alongside our fellow Massans,” he declared finally. “You are not welcome here, Mage. You are but a pestilence that must be eradicated.”

Another cheer from the Iserlohn Army, but the Scarlet Sabers and Gladewatchers remained silent, quietly deliberating their next move.

Adrian put his hand on his chin as if pondering a difficult riddle. “Odd, that you say that King Jerund, considering that the Elven women have been
very
eager to welcome us here.”

Hundreds of purple eyes narrowed in unspoken wrath. Adrian knew he had to enrage the Elven Watchers, goad them into acting emotionally and shedding the imperturbable stoicism for which they were notorious. The only way to do that was through their women.

He gestured and a red-eyed demon pushed through the ranks and shoved a young female Elf forward. The girl’s face was bruised and bloodied, her torn tunic hanging from her small body in ragged strips, barely covering her nakedness. The sight of the young girl created an immediate stir of agitation and muttered oaths among the Gladewatchers, their horses dancing beneath them in response to their rider’s distress.

King Jerund held up his hand and glared at Adrian. The old King knew exactly what he was attempting and wanted to settle his Watchers before they acted on the taunt. The King’s gesticulation instantly simmered the situation, and Adrian realized he had to continue to stroke the fire. At another signal from him, the demon shoved the girl into the center of the open space between the armies and threw her to the ground, where she lay whimpering.

The Elves turned toward their King, waiting with murder in their eyes for the signal to attack. Jerund would not give the signal, Adrian knew. That the King understood what he was planning was something he counted on. He needed to frustrate the Watchers—to infuriate and shame the Elven males into pursuing reckless action. He needed to provoke his biggest threat to their demise.

The powerfully built demon lifted the young girl by her long, white hair and stuck her across the mouth.

The night air rang as hundreds of swords sprang from scabbards. The King’s harried hand signals and attempts to communicate with the Gladewatchers were beginning to fail.

Adrian threw up a spell of protection around him and his sister and their horses as the demon stood over the young female. The beast lifted his horned head in a deafening howl, and in a flash of movement, leaned down and ripped at the girl’s leggings. Shoving her back to the ground, he lifted what was left of her tunic, and plunged a clawed hand up inside her body, violating her in a most inconceivable manner. The small body arched in pain and she screamed in pitiful agony. The demon used his other hand to completely tear open the rest of the tunic at the girl’s chest and leaned down to run his forked tongue over her small, exposed breasts.

Inaction was no longer even a remote possibility.

The Elven Gladewatchers roared in a maddened desire to kill and kicked their horses into motion covering the space between the armies in a blaze of white and smashed into the demons that had now stepped out to meet them. The front lines of Iserlohn entered the chaotic foray as well, and Maximus’ vassals were almost trampled in the violent surge.

The thunderous impact of flesh was staggering. Men and horses screamed, and a river of red soon burgeoned under the feet of the combatants. The Kings tried in vain to recall the formations of their units.

“Adrian!” his sister shouted at him.

He glanced around and saw that one of the Gladewatchers had managed to get past the demons. A confident smirk lining the Elf’s mouth, he screamed out and sprinted on light feet toward him. With a running leap, the Watcher struck out viciously, but his sword bounced harmlessly off the magical shield he created. Surprised and off-balance, the Elf hit the ground hard and cried out as he was quickly buried under a swathe of demons.

It took less than an hour for the deadly skirmish to accomplish Adrian’s goals and it was nearly finished. Over the vociferous battle sounds, Adrian heard the aggrieved King Jerund wail in disbelief. The demons had destroyed the Elven Gladewatchers to a man.

The revered protectors of Haventhal were no more.

A significant number of Iserlohn soldiers continued the attack, but content that all had gone according to plan, Adrian turned his horse to return to Starfell Keep.

Let them fight it out, he thought. If there was anyone left alive tomorrow, he would accept their surrender then.

Beck fastened the last vine around the litter with a grunt. Satisfied it would hold, he walked over to Kiernan, knelt by her side and placed his palm on her forehead. She was not feverous, but still breathing very shallowly and that only after several attempts at resuscitation. Other than the splint he had fastened to her broken arm, there was nothing more he could do for her. Frustration raged through him. The snake’s compression must have collapsed one of her lungs, and she needed a healer. Quickly. If she did not receive proper care soon, she would die. Of that, he was certain.

But, where was he to find one in the middle of a rainforest?

He looked at her pale face and gently brushed a damp, blonde tress from her cheek, his fingers trembling with worry and fatigue. Bending down, he pressed his lips against her temple. “Please hold on, Kiernan,” he whispered. “I will find the help you need, I promise. Please hold on for me. I need you so much.” He took another moment in the solace of her scent and then lifted her small frame onto the litter, tucking his cloak securely around both sides of her body. Scrubbing a tear from his eye, he stepped in between the roped vines and wound them around his shoulders in a makeshift harness to pull the stretcher. It was not easy in the dark, but working together, he and Airron managed to build two stretchers fairly quickly.

“Are you ready?” It was Airron, already tethered to the litter that would carry Rogan. Beck looked at his friend and was shocked at his appearance. The tight-lipped grimace and eyes shadowed with exhaustion were a dismal caricature of a face usually creased in a smile. What had happened to him? What had happened to all of them? Did Galen Starr really believe that they had a chance? Or, were they the only chance he had available to him?

He nodded to Airron, and they began to trot east down the beach with their burdens, Bajan loping unsteadily behind them. Kiernan’s health appeared to be having an analogous effect on the Draca.

He took another quick reading of the compass as they ran, and it led them back into the Puu. Even with his earthshifting, it was difficult to maneuver the litters over the dense forest floor, and they had to stop several times to untangle the wooden slats from the vegetation on the ground.

“How much further can it be?” asked Airron after several hours of grueling travel. “I have smelled the salt of the Arounda in the air for leagues, yet it remains unseen. We should have run out of forest by now!”

Beck nodded wearily. He knew Airron was looking to him for hopeful words, but he simply did not have any left to give. It was getting harder and harder to run. Every muscle in his body ached and begged for respite. His head throbbed with concern for Kiernan, Rogan, and all of the Massan soldiers now undoubtedly in battle. He despaired over ever making it to the Valley of Flame in time to make a difference. Despaired that he and Airron would never find Callyn-Rhe or the weapon they needed.

Airron must have been thinking the same, and he longed to give him the encouragement they both needed to hear, but he could not find the energy to do so. “We just have to keep moving,” was all he said.

And, they did.

Neither Rogan nor Kiernan awakened during the trek. In fact, he noted the last time he looked that Kiernan’s skin was beginning to sport a pasty yellow cast.

Running league after league through the darkened trees, the vines cutting painfully into his shoulders, he began to see threats in every shadow. Every flutter of a leaf was a snake about to drop down on him. Every rustle of noise was a demon about to rake him with its claws. The threat that eventually did appear before them looked so harmless at first that he did not respond fast enough.

Two black shapes appeared overhead swinging innocuously from tree to tree, shadowing them. Yet, the further they ran into the forest, the more the shapes began to shriek in protest at the invasion of their territory. And, for some reason, their agitation seemed to be directed more at Bajan than the two men towing the litters.

He stopped to peer closely at the shapes and then sighed in relief. It was just a couple of jungle apes frolicking through the trees.

“Get lost!” said Airron, waving his arms weakly at the defenders.

That was all it took for the apes to attack. One of them dropped down onto Bajan’s back and bit him in the shoulder with large, blunt incisors. The weary Draca Cat roared in pain and swept up his spiked tail to dislodge the creature and toss it to the ground.

Beck yelped in shock as he looked down at the aggressor. It was a Moshie! Moshies were the monkey people of legend with their disturbingly human faces and even more disturbingly simian teeth.

Airron stepped out of his harness tiredly and said, “Stand guard over Kiernan and Rogan. I will handle this.”

Even in the dim forest, Beck could see the faint shimmer in the air when Airron shifted into a bear. Bajan’s attacker rushed him again and the second Moshie jumped down at the bear, who took a mighty swing with an enormous paw. The Moshie darted out of the way, and joined his companion to attack Bajan in a very human, coordinated effort Beck would not have thought possible. They took the Draca Cat to the ground, one grabbing his front paws and the other biting into his hind leg and coming away with a mouthful of flesh and white fur. Bajan howled and the bear tore toward the Moshies, swiping at one with such tremendous force that the Moshie slammed against a tree and fell to the ground, lifeless. The remaining Moshie screeched and screamed while beating his chest, human eyes glaring with hatred.

The maddened humanoid ape dove at the bear with teeth and fists, pummeling it to the ground, somehow managing to avoid the lethal claws.

In a final act of dominance, the muscular Moshie jumped down on the bear’s leg with all of his weight, and then scampered away into the forest, leaving his dead cohort behind.

“Airron!” Beck cried out, stunned by the quickness and ferociousness of the attack.

The winded bodyshifter gazed up at him, arms and legs bleeding from bite marks and scratches. “That bloody beast broke my leg!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I felt it crack. Beck, I cannot walk,” he cried. “You are going to have to go on without me.”

Beck shook his head in denial. “No. We can make it. I will carry you.”

Airron looked at him as if he was mad. “Stay where you are!” Beck told him, and he hurried over to Bajan, who was lying still on the ground.

He put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. He had to do this. It was up to him now. There was nobody else.

Reaching deep inside, he marshaled the strength remaining to him and called—no, demanded!—the aid of the magic of his blood oath and the magic of his earthshifting. Instantly, an inexorable power burgeoned in his mind and the combination of the twin magics energized his aching body and swept away his hopeless thoughts.

He could do this.
He would do this!

With a snarl, he reached down and flung the unresponsive Draca Cat across his shoulders as if he weighed no more than a sack of grain. Ignoring Airron’s shouts of protest, he walked to his friend and hoisted him onto his back beneath Bajan. “Hang on!”

“Beck! Leave me!”

“No.”

Despite his objection, Airron wrapped his good leg around Beck’s waist, and left the other to dangle uselessly a foot off the ground. Beck bent down under his burden to wrap the vines of both stretchers across his body and then started to walk. He checked the compass again to set his direction and continued east.

Muscles burning painfully, he carried his four friends.

Step by step, tears coursing down his face silently, he walked.