Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood (39 page)

There was a cough at his tent door.

“What is it, Captain?” Adrian said impatiently without removing his gaze from the female.

Lucin ducked to enter the tent, helmet in hand. “Everythin’ is ready.”

Adrian nodded. “Any word from my sister?”

“Not yet, but we do ‘ave sentries posted. You will be sent word immediately if she arrives.”

“Food supplies?”

“Meager.”

“Deserters?”

“Very few. The Cyman soldiers ‘ave been bred for this day.”

“Thank you, Captain,” he said and gestured to the door. “You are dismissed. I will be along shortly.”

Lucin glanced at the Elven girl in the corner, and Adrian could see the sympathy in his eye. It infuriated him. He just did not understand this emotion that he had long considered a weakness in the Cymans. “Get out, you idiot!”

Lucin’s eye turned cold as he bowed and exited the tent.

The little Elf laughed and it sounded like the tinkle of a bell. “Even your own people do not like you.”

“Fortunately, it is not a prerequisite of the job.”

“Where is Falcon?”

Adrian shrugged. “He is fine. As long as you do what you are told, you will both be freed unharmed.”

“What else would you have of me, sir? You have already robbed me of my body and my dignity. What else would you have?”

Her words angered him. This little slip of a girl was trying to belittle him when nobody in his entire life had ever dared speak to him in such a manner. Struggling, he kept his feelings in check and smiled at her. “I would like your participation in a special ceremony to be held at midnight. You will be there as a representative of the Elven race, and after this ritual you and your companion may go back to your homes.”

Her slanted purple eyes stared at him with suspicion. “What kind of ritual?”

He waved his hand in dismissal. “A simple ceremony that requires the presence of an emissary. That is all.”

Her eyes flickered with hope. “Can I see Falcon first?”

“Soon.” He leered at her hungrily, and it excited him when she began to tremble. He put his wine glass down and bared his teeth in a wicked half smile. “Let us begin with the first part of the rite which involves partaking in pleasures of the flesh.”

The young girl’s eyes deadened in grim hopelessness as she slid down and spread open her shaking knees. Tears dripped from her large, almond eyes as he approached, tugging at the lace of his trousers.

Lucin prowled through the Cyman camp, barking and growling at anyone who tried to start a conversation. All of the arrangements had been made according to the instructions of the Mage and within the hour, Ravener would engage in his despicable dark arts. For what purpose, Lucin could not guess.

Sickened, he stalked away from the army and its raucous noise and foul smells and disappeared over a towering dune. Once out of sight, he ran. He ran and ran, pumping his legs until he could continue no further and then sat down heavily in the white sand. Even in the moonlight, the Sandori Sands glistened in blinding splendor. The landscape was ever changing into exotic shapes as the dunes crested, caved, and swirled in the strong westerly winds. Hearty scrub grasses and plants dotted the terrain, but mostly it was a sea of glorious white as far as the eye could see.

How we wished this campaign was over and he was back with Maree, Miah, and Titus. He worried for his son and longed for their reunion. It was his fervent hope that the Massans would not harm an innocent boy.

Innocent?
Lucin laughed grimly. Who was he kidding? The Cymans were as complicit as Adrian Ravener in this whole sordid affair. Did the shifters they encountered at the northern shores of Pyraan think the Cymans were innocent when they swarmed their shores with murderous intent? Did the young male Elf named Falcon think so when he took his last torturous breath crying out for his love? What about the Elven girl? If she had a chance, she would thrust a knife in Lucin’s heart without batting an eye, and he would not blame her one bit.

He shook his head. They were halfway through the Sands now, and he just had to see as many of his people as possible safely through to Earthshine. According to the third prophecy he had yet to share with Ravener, the Mage would meet his equal at the final battle. It did not say for certain whether or not he would be defeated, only that there would be a chance.

And, that was all he had left to hold on to.

Pushing to his feet, he returned to camp and once again strode through the army without stopping for conversation. He slipped into the forest as stealthily as possible and made his way toward the ritual location.

Earlier that evening, Lucin selected the requisite number of soldiers to participate in what Ravener called his war ritual. He had ordered Lucin to send the twelve Cymans to a clearing a full league south into the Du’Che Forest. Whatever Ravener had in mind, he did not want to be overheard.

Lucin had been strictly forbidden from attending the ceremony, but he wanted to see for himself what the Mage planned. If his men were to be a part of these war rituals, Lucin wanted to see that they were safe.

When he finally arrived at the clearing, he noticed the soldiers already present and standing within a circle of stones. Ravener had instructed that torches be staked into the ground outside of the ring, and they provided a companionable flickering glow to the moonlight.

Skirting the edges of the clearing, he chose an enormous old oak several paces away and hauled himself into the boughs, settling onto a sizeable limb that provided a good view. He felt foolish. Here he was, the Captain of the Cyman Army, dripping in sweat and lying across a tree branch thirty feet off the ground to spy on his Master.

His head twitched up when he heard movement from the far side of the clearing, and Ravener strode out of the darkened forest dressed in his usual all black, gripping the upper arm of the small Elven girl, Siole. Her eyes were frightened and wild as she looked around at the soldiers.

“Where is he?” he heard her question the Mage suspiciously. “You said Falcon would be here.”

Ravener ignored her and proceeded to the center of the circle of soldiers where he forced the girl to her knees. He looked around at the men. “There will be no speaking during this ceremony. You must thank Captain Lucin for your presence here this evening as it is he who has honored you for this service. Let us begin.”

Ravener reached down to lift the Elf to her feet, and Lucin could see the small body shuddering uncontrollably in fear. The sleeves of the Mage’s robe fell to his elbows as he began weaving his arms in the air in front of the girl, his lips moving in a chant that Lucin could not hear from his position in the tree.

The ceremonial mantra went on for several moments before Lucin saw the impact that the Mage’s words were having on Siole. Her body stopped shaking, and she snapped upright rigidly before Ravener. Her eyes were still wild but she seemed unable to move any part of her body including her mouth. She was making horrible moaning noises that sent the hair on the back of Lucin’s neck standing straight up. The soldiers were shuffling their feet, uneasy at the sight of the girl’s obvious torment, especially when she began to froth at the mouth. Suddenly, Ravener screamed out, lifted his arms high above his head and then brought them down swiftly and knelt in front of the girl, all in one sweeping motion. As the Mage continued to kneel with his head down, Siole’s mouth opened wide—wider than was humanly possible. Lucin put his hand to his own gaping mouth to cover his horrified gasp. The oral cavity continued to elongate and Lucin heard the cracking of her jaw. Shadowed fingers appeared at the maw opening and widened the mouth further. Impossibly, the silhouette of a head materialized and the figure of a female apparition began to crawl out of Siole. As soon as it was free, the specter shot into the air and the little Elf crumbled to the ground, an empty husk devoid of life.

Lucin watched as the creature alighted on the ground and approached Ravener. It was definitely female with naked breasts exposed around a tight fitting black outfit and billowing black cape tied at the neck. Horns protruded from both sides of her temples and pointed upward in sharp lethal tips. Her smile revealed tiny sharpened teeth.

“Niema,” breathed the Mage, reverently.

The evil that emanated from the creature brought all of the soldiers falling to their knees and covering their heads in soft groans. Lucin almost tumbled to the ground as his body shook in an uncontrollable desire to flee from the abomination in his presence.

“It has been a very long time,” rasped out the demon, her voice like a file chafing away at Lucin’s brain. “It has been even longer since I have tasted a fledgling Elven soul.” The demon slid her long forked tongue out to lick at her lips. “Thank you, Adrian.”

“Niema, I am honored that it is you who has answered my call.”

The creature barked out a brittle laugh as she hovered over the kneeling Mage. “I have accepted your offering. What is it you wish, spiritshifter, for I see you have earned this title.”

“I am in need of assistance to help me secure my position as ruler of this island. I am the last Mage alive, and the sniveling leaders of Massa want nothing more than to abolish all magic.” He looked up at the female demon. “You would not want that, would you, Niema?”

Her red glowing eyes narrowed at Ravener. “Galen Starr is dead at last?”

“Yes.”

The demon flipped into the air backwards in satisfaction and swooped down to within inches of Ravener’s face. “Magic is needed in
all
of the worlds, spiritshifter. I will help you.”

“Thank you, Niema,” breathed out the Mage.

“Just as I, spiritshifter, each demon you call forth will demand a sacrifice in offering and a portal through which to emerge here into this mortal world.”

“Yes, I am aware of that. I have not yet built up the power necessary to summon the number of demons needed, so I require your help.”

Niema smiled sinisterly and licked her lips again in anticipation. “Shall I start with these twelve?” she asked, sweeping her arm around the circle.

Horrified screams escaped from the men and one collapsed to the ground.

Ravener raised an eyebrow. “That is why they are here, Niema. You may begin.”

Niema cackled and then began weaving the air, bidding the demons of the Netherworld to her side. Lucin’s fingers dug into the bark of the branch beneath him as the men on their knees jerked up straight to their feet, even the man who had fainted. As had befallen the Elven girl only moments before, foam began to emit from their mouths. Tears streamed down Lucin’s eye as he watched the mutilation of his men and the horrors that crawled from their outstretched jaws.

Ravener looked on in delight as twelve demon spirits swirled in the air around him. They were caped and horned like Niema, but taller and more muscular.

Beckoning them close, the Mage gave them their instructions. Four demons each were to go to the leading cities in Iserlohn, Deepstone and Haventhal in search of the
Savitars
in the unlikely event they were still alive and to terrorize the citizens of the land along the way. “Frightened people have a way of convincing their Kings to surrender,” cooed Ravener to Niema.

The twelve horned shadows flew up into the night and streaked across the sky.

Lucin watched them go and then glanced back at the clearing and the thirteen bodies that lie on the ground. Only a coward would watch the events of this night perched in a tree and do nothing, Lucin berated himself.
But, what could I have done?
If he had tried to intervene, he would have been killed. That much was clear.

He vowed then and there to destroy Adrian Ravener. It did not matter when or how, only that he be the one to do it.

Without warning, the female demon turned her glowing red eyes on him. The temperature around him dropped and his breath clouded in front of his face. She hissed as she crouched, forked tongue darting in and out.

Adrian held up his hand. “Do not worry, Niema, there is no threat out there. It is just the Captain of my Cyman Army. Although he apparently finds it hard to follow orders, he is harmless.”