An Oath Of The Kings (Book 4) (26 page)

The deep, bass rumble of the giant’s voice vibrated through Beck body. “I can’t. He’s shielded.”

“Why don’t we start burning all these soldiers to a crisp and see how fast he drops it then?” She pointed to an unconscious Rogan. “Starting with the Dwarf King.”

Elinor’s pinched face glared upward. “Well?”

“It’s dropped,” the giant grumbled in confirmation.

Instantly, Beck’s tongue thickened and his lips pressed together. He panicked with the instinctive need to pull air in through his mouth. His heart slammed up against his ribcage. His lungs seized. He kicked and punched at the giant once again.

Calm.

The word floated in front of his mind in a silent mantra. He took a deep breath in through his nose.

Calm.

Then another, continuing until his breathing steadied.

“Wake the peasants!” Elinor screamed.

The Mage holding Beck issued the counterspell and the soldiers on the battlefield began to stir.

“My fellow Massans!” Elinor shouted for all to hear. “In blood and battle, in anger and in grief, a new Queen has been forged this day!”

Murmurs of disbelief increased as more soldiers came awake, staring wide-eyed and in cowering fear of the two giants in their midst—one standing before them and other lying on the ground.

“Tell me, people of Massa, do you wish more war? More death? More lightning and fire to sweep down and destroy? If so, I will give it to you.”

“Massa doesn’t need a bloodthirsty tyrant!” This came from Captain Bo Franck.

Elinor’s laughter echoed harshly. “That is most certainly what you will receive if you oppose me, Captain. But, we can end the bloodshed here. Now. You need only swear oaths of fealty to the new Queen of Massa. This very day. Every man, Dwarf and Elf.”

“What about the Everards?” someone yelled out.

Beck’s stomach lurched as the giant swung him around for all to see.

“Ah, yes, here is your cherished oathbreaker. Tell me, people of Massa, what has Beck Atlan ever done for Iserlohn? Cosseted away in Bardot with his
Dagarmon
plotting who knows what? Thumbing his nose at Nysian politics and refusing to use his power for good?” Elinor swept down from her horse and shook her head in feigned disappointment. “Despite being chased from the city, he has returned to confess to his crimes. Adultery, abandonment of duty and murder.”

To this, there were a few shocked gasps and muttered oaths.

Beck growled in frustration at her blatant lies.
Are the people of Iserlohn this easily fooled? Can they not see her motives?

“King Maximus is dead. The false King Gage Gregaros is dead.”

Because you killed them!

“We stand on the cusp of a new era, my friends. One in which there will be no more kingdoms. The island of Massa will unite as one to share equally in the metals and jewels of Deepstone! The timber of Haventhal! And, the furs and wools of Iserlohn! I will give to you a better and stronger Massa to hand down to your sons and daughters! I, alone, can give this to you!  Accept me!”

The Falcons and Dragons started up a rallying cry.

You can’t have them, Elinor.

An inferno of rage ignited the oaths in Beck’s body. The overwhelming power, more than any one person should be able to hold, caused something inside of him to snap. He felt his temperature rise. His hands began to shake with furious energy. The wind picked up in a sudden howling tempest above his head. A clap of thunder shattered the morning air. The clouds in the sky turned black and boiled with flashes of angry lightning.

“What is he doing?” Elinor screamed, her hair whipping around her head.

Beck’s feet and fingers tingled as the magic rushed out of him in a torrent. The silencing spell that had been laid over his face in a sorcerous mask blew apart. “Liar! You care nothing for the people of this island, Elinor Morningstar! You don’t have one tenth of the compassion of Kiernan Atlan. You have no idea what it takes to be Queen!”

Elinor’s face twisted in rage as she tried to maintain her balance in the storm. “Kill him!”

The giant squeezed.

Beck grunted in pain, grabbed one of the Mage’s massive fingernails and pried it back. Muscles straining with outrage, he peeled back the nail until it tore free from flesh.

The giant cried out and flung him away out into the air. Arms and legs whirling, he spun helplessly to the ground.
“Pilloni!”

The spell came in time to save his life, but not to avoid injury. Sharp pain lanced through his legs as he slammed to the earth feet first. Bones snapped and ripped through skin. He collapsed to the dirt, flat on his stomach, moaning in agony.

Yet, he could still hear, and the physical pain was nothing compared to the hurt of betrayal. He wanted to cry like a child at the eruption of cheers that filled his ears.

They believe Elinor’s lies. They think me an adulterer and murderer.

He pressed his cheek into the ground, a flood of emotion drowning him in regret. In unbearable sorrow. He felt a failure on so many levels.
Forgive me, Kiernan. I did what I thought best. I hope you understand.

He did cry then, the bitterness that lingered in his mouth, mixing with the salt of his tears.   

And, that’s when he felt it.

He picked his head up off the ground. Momentary disbelief turned to conviction.
No, not cheers. They’re battle cries!

The gates of Nysa ground open and the fury in the voices within was hotter than the blazing sun. The ground shook with the thunder of movement.

No, don’t come out! You’ll be slaughtered!

More rumbling across the earth. People yelling. The clash of steel.

What are they saying?

Another great concussion rocked the earth, jarring him violently. Beck knew it must be the other giant going down, but how? Who had the power to knock over a giant? The voices grew louder. A stampede of horses and feet raced toward him and fear squeezed his chest.

A whispered squeak in his ear startled him. “Have you figured it out yet, Beck Atlan? Listen!”

Vinni Vee?

Beck listened. All around him, his name rippled on the wind. “King Beck! House Atlan! King Beck! House Atlan!” A quiet chant at first and then with more vigor as people added their voices. A swell of sentiment lifted it higher and louder.

Beck felt himself raised up off the ground and hoisted into the air. Fingers reached for him as he was carried, grabbing, devouring. Claiming him.

He was theirs.

Mind, body and soul, he belonged to the people of Iserlohn.

I accept.

He lay back against the hands beneath him and watched the clouds above spin in a dizzying circle. He closed his eyes.

“You are a King, Beck Atlan!” he heard Vinni scream. “You are the people’s King!”

I accept.

When Beck opened his eyes for the second time, everything was still slightly blurred. His lower body felt numb from recent healing, but at least the pain was gone.

The first time he awoke, Nic Cresson had informed him of the death of Jala Radek. His heart broke for his dear friend, Rogan. Would the Dwarf’s life ever be the same again? Would he wallow in grief as Digby had after the death of his daughter, Alia? Beck vowed not to let that happen. Vowed to prove to Rogan that the beauty of life remains despite such an immense loss.

Now, though, the pain was too raw. Even for him, and he felt relieved when the poppyvine had spiraled him into darkness once again.

“How are you feeling, Beck?”

The sound of a feminine voice set his heart fluttering until he realized that it couldn’t be Kiernan. This voice was deeper. Sultry. A sorceress.

He squinted into the corner of the room.

A beautiful woman with auburn hair stood from the chair and approached his bed.

“Helenite,” he greeted hoarsely. “I assume it is to you that I owe thanks for the healing.”

She nodded and squeezed his arm. “My sister would have insisted upon it.”

He smiled. The sorceresses still considered Kiernan a sister even though she had never formally joined the coven.

“That’s the only reason?” he teased.

“No.” She knelt by the bed and pressed his hand against her cheek. “I did it because you are my friend and my King.”

The declaration did not make him cringe as it normally would have. He accepted what Galen Starr and Vinni Vee and now Helenite told him. He was a King. The people’s King. He had to admit that it felt liberating to finally accept what was instead of fighting what was not.

Yet, Elinor Morningstar was right about one thing. He had not given his all to the people of this kingdom. How many times had Kiernan berated him for neglecting his duty here in Nysa? Too many to count. Despite all he had learned at Mage training, he had yet to put much of that knowledge to good use. If he could inspire people to become more, dream more, accomplish more by living and working among them, he would do so.

“Thank you, Helenite. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be welcome back.”

“Oh, pooh. Elinor put a group of children up to chasing you from the city. The rest of us never put any stock in those silly rumors flamed by the nobles of House Morningstar. Did you really think we had?”

Yes, Helenite, I did. And, I was a fool.

“A lesson learned, Helenite. I was so caught up in finding Kiernan that I didn’t look more closely at Elinor’s motives. I accepted all I heard without question.”

“That’s not like you.”

“Like I said, I wasn’t in the best frame of mind.”

“Any word regarding Kiernan?” she asked softly.

“No.”

She sighed. “Diamond and I will do all we can to help, Beck. You do know that, don’t you?”

“I do,” he assured her with a fond smile. “Where is Elinor Morningstar now?”

“In the dungeons.”

“I want her executed at dawn,” he said resolutely. “Can you carry the order to Captain Franck for me?”

“Of course.” She stood. “There is a line of people waiting to see you. Are you ready for visitors yet?”

“I would like to see Gil Jordin if he is here. After that, Rogan and Airron. No one else.”

“I’ll see to it.”

After she left, Beck got out of bed on wobbly legs and went to the window. The sun was shining, and the city was abuzz with activity. A new day had come. Brighter than the one before. Smiles replaced frowns. Steps were livelier.
If one thing can be said about the human spirit, it is exceedingly resilient. It’s what keeps us moving forward.

He turned when he heard the door open.

“First Mage?”

“Come in, Gil.” As much as Beck longed to sit, he had to remaining standing for this. “I would like to talk to you about your failure to summon the
Dagarmon
from Bardot.”

The answer did not come immediately. “As I said, I felt like Dax and I could handle it here.”

“But, you couldn’t.”

“No, in hindsight I suppose it would have been better to have sent for them.”

“I will not tolerate arrogance in the Order, Gil.”

The bald
Dagarmon
nodded, but did not respond.

“You have extreme power, Gil, but you mustn’t allow that fact to deprive you of your morality. Let your oaths guide you.”

Gil bowed at the waist. “Of course, First Mage, and they always will. But, in a field of study where the possibilities are endless, I will admit to being overzealous at times.”

“I understand and I don’t want to diminish your enthusiasm. But, arrogance narrows your sight, Gil. Convinces you that the path you’re on is the only way. Explore them all. Keep your mind and eyes open.”

A humble smile appeared on his face. “A timely reminder, First Mage. If I let you down by failing to take the proper action, I apologize.”

Beck laid a hand on the
Dagarmon’s
shoulder. “It’s not all your fault. In my absence, the proper chain of command was confused. I will work to resolve that with the Court and the Council of Kings, I promise you.”

Gil nodded. “That would help, Your Grace.”

“Very well, consider it done. Will you send the Kings in to me now?”

“Of course.”

He left, and it took only a few moments for Airron and Rogan to show up. Airron’s usual grin was missing and Rogan’s face still held traces of grief. Not just for Jala, but for his son, Reilly, as well. This journey to Iserlohn would cost him his entire family.

Unless, I do something about it.

He greeted his friends warmly. “Did you speak to Reilly?” Beck asked Rogan.

“Yes, and he explained that the Dwarves would remain here in Iserlohn.”

“I would like to propose another idea.”

Rogan’s eyebrows lifted.

“I’ve given this much thought, and I firmly believe that the people of Massa would be better served if each kingdom retained the services of their Mages.”

“Are you suggesting…?”

“That the Dwarves return to Deepstone? Yes, I am. And, Haventhal should send Elves to Mage training as well. If you agree, all three kingdoms will have an even number of sorcerers. They will train here in Iserlohn for a short period of time and then return to their own lands.” He looked at the tears welling in Rogan’s eyes and it convinced him more than ever that he could not take Rogan’s only son from him. Not after Jala. “What do you think?”

Airron nodded eagerly. “I think it’s a splendid idea and was going to suggest something along those lines myself.”

Rogan simply nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

Empathy swelled in Beck at the pain in his face. “I won’t utter meaningless platitudes. Not to you. You will mourn your daughter for the rest of your life, I know this. But, keep these two irrefutable truths close to your heart, my friend. Your daughter is at peace in the Highworld. Both of us have direct knowledge that this is true. And, you are not alone. Many people love you, Rogan. Your wife awaits you at home. Your son will return and give you many grandchildren to spoil.” Beck gripped both of Rogan’s shoulders in his hands. “Most of all, don’t you ever forget that Airron and I will be by your side always. This, I promise you.”

Beck grasped Airron’s shoulder and brought him in close.  “We are Kings! Let our days of sovereignty be spent keeping our kingdoms safe and destroying all those that would come against us. Let us pledge to work as one! For the good of Massa!” He held a hand out in the space between them. “Let our oaths bind us this day.”

Airron laid his hand over Beck’s. “An oath of the Kings.”

“An oath of the Kings,” Rogan confirmed and placed his hand on top.