Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood (8 page)

Life had always been difficult, but in the earlier years, the Cymans were content with the small possessions and minor comforts they were permitted. They tilled the land and planted their own food. More importantly, they had their families together under one tented roof, which fulfilled their basic human need for love, touch, and companionship. By isolating the men, women and children into three unconnected groups, Ravener stripped the Cymans of life as surely as he already stripped the land of life. It was just taking longer for them to wither and die.

Lucin closed his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he walked toward the first checkpoint at the outer wall of the Keep. It was harder to ignore the miserable cold than it was his soldiers. His hatred of cold, he knew, came from his Desert Troll ancestry. When the Mage War rent the land of Massa in half over three hundred years ago, the entire race of Desert Trolls, who made their home in the Sandori Sands, was swept away with the cleaving.

As a reclusive, tribal race, this separation from the other races was not initially viewed as disastrous. They still had their beloved sands, and the Trolls felt fortunate to be free of the plotting Mages, who they often found themselves at war with and the subterfuge and infighting of the Council of Races. It was not long, however, before Ravener made his presence known and enslaved the Desert Trolls and the humans unfortunate enough to be on the wrong piece of land when Massa was divided.

Ravener’s many experiments over the centuries with humans and Trolls resulted in the Cyman race of today. Their imposing physical stature, strength and quickness inherited from the Troll ancestry and their intelligence, determination and empathy from the human side. Ravener had invested years trying to breed empathy out of his Cyman warriors to no avail. Without question, the Cymans would be fierce fighters in the protection of their people, but they would never be evil.

The single eye was a manifestation of the dark magic that maligned the genetic traits of Ravener’s subjects.

As Lucin neared the wall to Ravener Keep, the gate immediately opened for him. He returned the salute this time to the soldiers at the gate and crossed the courtyard to the black iron doors that led to the lower level kitchens.

The Cyman women cooks glanced up as he entered and smiled. “‘Ello, Captain,” said the scullery boss, Ame.

“Ame,” he greeted with a nod of his head. “‘Ave you seen Miah?”

“Aye, Captain, she should be just returnin’ from the Master’s chambers with ‘is dinner tray.”

“Good. I am on my way there as well, so our paths should cross.” He started to leave and then paused and turned back to Ame, settling his large hand on her shoulder. ‘Ow is your back, Ame? I know you ‘ave been ‘avin’ problems.”

“O’ tis alright, Captain,” she replied. “’En old bird like me should expect some aches and pains now and agin.”

Lucin laughed for the first time in a long time. “You and me both, Ame,” he said clapping her back affectionately. “You and me both.”

He took the stairs to the third floor of the Keep and the private chambers of Adrian Ravener. He was surprised not to have run into Miah along the way, but was unconcerned. She could have been anywhere in the Keep, despite what Ame told him.

Lucin stepped out of the stairwell onto the carpeted hallway and strode to the wooden doors of Ravener’s rooms. He knocked loudly and, after a moment, the door was opened slowly by his daughter, Miah, who was carrying a dinner tray in her hands.

“‘Ello, darlin’,” he said, reaching out to hug her.

Miah shied away from his embrace.

He narrowed his eye inquiringly at her. “What is it?”

Miah tried to hide her face and said quickly, “‘Tis nothin’, Da,” and then completely broke down and started to cry quietly. Lucin pulled her out of the room and set the tray on the floor. When he lifted her chin and parted her hair, he saw the swelling on her cheek from the blow she received from Ravener.

“I will kill ‘em!” he said, rage burning in his eye.

Miah put her hands on her father’s shoulders and turned him around. “Please, Da, don’t!” she pleaded, grabbing his shirt. “‘Tis nothin’, Da, truly ‘tis nothin’. It was my fault. I was not listenin’ to the Master as I should ‘ave. You will only get a whippin’ if you confront ‘im!”

He shrugged away from her grasp. She was right. It was pointless. His shoulders sagged and all of the fight visibly drained from him. How was he supposed to save an entire race of people when he could not even protect his own daughter?

Turning back to Miah, he pressed her face into his shoulder. “Believe me, Miah,” he said, his voice soft yet filled with resolve. “The dark Mage will get what is comin’ to ‘im.”

“What are you talkin’ about, Da?” she asked anxiously, looking both ways along the hall to be sure they were alone. “Ma said somethin’ to me yesterday. She said you ‘ave a plan.”

“I do, darlin’, and after this whole affair to the south of us is over, we will be back in the desert sands where we belong, livin’ our lives.” He grabbed her face tightly. “I promise you that!”

Miah nodded her head and then bent to pick up the tray. She looked at him with all of the unconditional love and confidence of a child for a parent. “I believe you, Da.”

As she walked away, Lucin, turned and yanked open the door to Ravener’s suite. The anteroom was empty so he continued into the living area where he spotted the source of his fury sitting in one of two armchairs facing a large stone fireplace tall enough for a man to stand upright inside.

He was not alone. In the other chair sat a young seer named Saige. The poor creature looked as if she had not slept or eaten in days. Her eye was glazed over and terror and pain etched her face. It was only when Lucin continued around the furniture did he see why. Adrian was holding a sharp knife and one of Saige’s fingers in his hands. The seer held a bloodied bandage to her wound as she sat in her chair trembling and trying to stifle her cries.

“What is the meanin’ of this?” he demanded, forgetting his place in his revulsion of the spectacle in front of him.

Adrian casually inspected his grisly trophy. “You know, Lucin, I do not remember inviting you into my chambers, and I certainly do not remember allowing you to question my activities. Now, get out. I have business to conduct.”

The panic-stricken seer shrank back into her chair.

“You cannot torture visions from this seer, Master! “’Er predictions come when she least expects it, and you cannot expect to draw it out of ‘er at your will!”

Adrian looked up at him. “And how would you know about such things?”

Lucin swallowed wondering if he had gone too far. “I knew ‘er grandmother who was also a seer. She ‘as since passed to the spirits, but she once told me that she ‘ad no control over the visions. What she saw always came true, without fail, but she could not control when they came.”

“Is that so?”

“In any event, I need to speak to you now. Besides, I think the girl ‘as been through enough for one evenin’ and ‘er stress may prevent ‘er from tellin’ prophecies in the future.”

Adrian looked over at Saige as if seeing her anguish for the first time. He sniffed and said, “I guess you are right, Lucin. This useless lump has not been able to tell me anything new for days.” He waved the girl out of the room, and she jumped out of her chair as if it was on fire and ran to the door, giving Lucin a quick look of gratitude as she exited.

Adrian unceremoniously dropped the bloody finger into a bowl on the table between the two chairs. “Sit,” he commanded.

Lucin did so trying his best not to look at the macabre display.

“Everythin’ is ready for our departure in the mornin’,” he began. “The ships are being fortified with the equipment and food supplies that will be needed. We will be goin’ ashore at the only possible entrance to the Old World which, as you know, is located at the northern end of the island with the twin bluffs.” It was all Lucin could do to continue looking at Adrian when all he wanted to do was put his hands around his scrawny neck and squeeze until he breathed his last breath, but he forced himself to continue. “As you requested, all Cyman males over the age of fourteen will accompany us to war. All women and children will remain behind.”

“And?”

Lucin was startled for a moment. “Master?”

“Oh, come now, Lucin. You took great risk in interrupting me the way you did, and you have been wringing your sweaty hands ever since you arrived. If this is about your slave daughter….”

“No!” he said, cutting Adrian off, not wanting his daughter’s name coming out of his filthy mouth. “I just want you to be aware of everythin’ I ‘ave done for you so you will see to repayin’ me in kind.”

“Meaning?”

Lucin took a deep breath. There was no turning back now. “Meanin’ that I will go to war for you, my people will go to war for you, but we would like our freedom in return. After the war is won, and mark my words we will win, the Cyman people would like to come back ‘ere to Nordik to live. I believe there are still good sands east of ‘ere.” When Adrian remained silent with his hands steepled under his chin, Lucin continued. “If the witch Niema was right and all of the magic users are exiled in Pyraan, they can be defeated easily and you will not ‘ave any opposition to your rule.”

“Ah, yes, poor Niema,” drawled Adrian. “She served her purpose well,” he paused, “until one of your men killed her.”

Lucin flinched.

The witch Niema often used her divination skills to gather information about the Old World for Adrian and the two were close for many, many years. She was very ruthless, however, to the Cyman people, and one of his soldiers finally had all he could take when she was being particularly cruel one morning to a group of children. That soldier snuck up behind the unsuspecting Niema and snapped her neck with his bare hands. Her death had been quick and merciful.

His death had been slow and agonizing.

“That man paid for ‘is crime. I…”

“
I? I
tell you what to do, Lucin, and
I
am not interested in any of your pathetic attempts at deal making.”

Lucin stood slowly until he towered over the Mage. “You should be interested,” he said softly.

Adrian stood as well. “It has been a long time since I have had to break you, Lucin. Maybe too long?”

Despite the horrific memories invoked by Adrian’s threat, Lucin did not flinch again. He could not afford to when so much was at stake.

“You will give the Cyman people their freedom, Master, or you will die.”

The Mage stared unbelievingly at him as they faced each other. “So, let me get this straight, Lucin. Unless I give the Cyman people their freedom, I will die. Are you threatening me, Captain?”

Lucin held up his hands. “No. Let me explain. Can we sit?” he asked, wanting to get Adrian into a less confrontational arrangement.

Surprisingly, Adrian backed down. “You have thirty seconds to give explanation or my whip will slice open your back,” he said coldly.

Despite his efforts to prevent it, Lucin gulped visibly as he also sat. But, seated or standing, he had to tread very carefully with his volatile master. “It actually ‘as to do with what you were just now attemptin’ to get from the seer. On a night not too long ago, I was called to the bedside of ‘er grandma, Sashan, when she was dyin’. She told me then that visions ‘ad come to ‘er and she needed me to ‘ear ‘em.”

Adrian did not move a muscle, but the hunger for knowledge burning fiercely in his eyes was unmistakable.

Lucin went on, “Sashan said it was the last ‘ope of our people. Would you like to ‘ear?” he asked, knowing full well that Adrian would give his right arm to do so.

“Continue.”

“Sashan told me that the first vision she ‘ad was accompanied by these words,
‘In the year that the star grows weak in the world, the ravens begin their flight, Ancient skills long since dead, resurrect in the morning light, Beware the four Savitars, who are light to the dark, But fear the Shadow more, who is death to the dark, Beware the star, when it shines so bright, But fear the star more, in the eternal night’.
”

Adrian raised his eyebrows, and Lucin could tell that the words of the prophecy rang true with intelligence previously held by him.

“That hardly constitutes a death sentence for me, Lucin. I trust you have more to bargain with?” he questioned in challenge.

Lucin did not hesitate. “The second part is this,
‘For the dark to conquer the land of old, the spirits will need to sing, Until that time the only hope, is the army of the raven king, As all livings things, it is freedom they crave, And grant it he must, it is that or the grave’.
”

“I was right!” Adrian said and sprang from his chair, startling Lucin. He slammed his fist into the open palm of his hand. “Ancient skills? Spirits will need to sing? What else could it mean?”

“Master?”

“What?” he asked turning back to him. “Oh, Lucin. Yes, yes, you have your deal. You would not want me to go to my
grave
now, would you?” He laughed sardonically.

Lucin trembled, afraid to believe it. Even with the prophecy in his possession, he had little hope that Adrian would let them go, regardless of what he told Maree. “You…you are goin’ to free the Cyman people after you ‘ave established your rule in the Old World?”