Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood (5 page)

She did not raise her voice, but the menace it contained was unmistakable.

Adrian’s face mottled with rage. “You push too far, Avalon!”

For a long dangerous moment, brother and sister glared at each other. Finally, Avalon sighed and reached up to touch his reddened cheek. “Do not expect me to apologize for something that was necessary, Adrian. You must keep your composure! All we have hoped for and dreamed about is within reach! We must keep our goal in mind at all times. Agreed?”

Adrian took his time replying, pushing down his fury, barely able to bite back the spell that would burn her to a crisp where she stood. He could do it easily and with no more remorse than crushing an insect under his thumb, but now was not the time to take on his sister. She still figured quite heavily into his plans. Nodding slightly with a tight smile on his face that lifted only one side of his mouth, he said, “Agreed, now tell me what the seer has prophesized.” That was all she was going to get. If she wanted more, that spell was still eager to be unleashed and, well, plans could be changed.

Seemingly satisfied, Avalon nodded and turned to the slave girl. “Miah, pour me some wine.” As Miah hurried to comply with her request, Avalon said, “The seer’s vision in its entirety is,
‘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 stroked his chin as he considered the seer’s words. “Childish in its simplicity, really. Obviously,
we
are the ravens and now is the time for our return to the Old World.”

Avalon accepted a glass of wine from Miah. “Yes, and I think we can also safely assume that Galen is the star and that he is dying.”

A genuine smile lit up his face. “I believe that to be so as well, and it is about bloody time that old fool died. He has been wrecking havoc on this world for far too long.”

“That he has.” Avalon sipped her wine and sat down. “I am curious as to why the prophecy mentions the word
Savitars
. If you will remember, the Massans named Galen and his Mages as
Savitars
in the war, but they are all long dead. Why would the prophecy mention them now?”

Adrian frowned. “Are you sure that is the word the seer used?”

“Yes, I am.”

He shrugged. “In any case, we should keep the seer close to us as we travel south in the event she has any more revelations. We need answers sooner rather than later. Dying or not, I do not intend a reunion with my former mentor without a full arsenal at my disposal.”

“What about the resurrection of ancient skills? Do you know what that means?” she questioned.

Adrian blinked, surprised she ferreted out the importance of the passage. “I have my theories,” he said cryptically, “but as yet am unwilling to discuss them until I learn more.” Ignoring her raised eyebrow, he continued. “I will be meeting with Lucin later this evening and will discuss with him our desire that the seer’s quarters are next to ours. We should be ready to sail in two days’ time.”

Also surprisingly, she simply nodded and stood. Maybe her question was only innocent curiosity?

Avalon turned to the slave. “Oh, Miah, dear, run along and tell your brother, Titus, to meet me in my chambers. I will be in need of his…,” she cleared her throat in feigned modesty, “…services this evening.” As Avalon started away, she unabashedly dropped her black robe revealing her nakedness. The air shimmered around her as she sinuously bodyshifted into a Cyman girl and turned to wink at Miah before closing the door behind her.

Adrian shuddered in abhorrence. The Cyman beasts repulsed him, and he did not know how his sister could inhabit their body for even a moment. He turned to the young girl, swung his arm back and punched her as hard as he could in the face. Miah yelped and fell to one knee. “You heard her, you filthy cow, now move!”

The slave girl stood to leave, and Adrian glared at her in disgust as she straightened to her full six foot, seven inch height. She wore a rough homespun tunic over her muscular frame that fell just below her knees. Keeping her head bowed, she backed her way toward the door and said in a deep voice that belied her young age, “Yes, Master.”

When she finally raised her head, her hair parted revealing her Cyman heritage—one big, brown eye dead in the center of her forehead.

It was still dark in the small bedroom, and it felt like he had just closed his eyes when a hand nudged his shoulder and shook him awake.

“Beck, it’s time to go.”

It was Rogan.

The Dwarf was standing next to his bed dressed in a dark cloak with the hood up, his face in shadows. Beneath the cloak, Beck saw that he was wearing a tunic belted at the waist from which hung a large sheathed dagger.

“You expecting a war?” asked Beck, looking up wearily and using his palms to rub his tired eyes.

“As a matter of fact,” he muttered, “I am—with Commander Dismore. Did you see the way he was looking at us? I have a feeling that the next two years are going to be tougher than we thought.”

Beck sat up and swung his legs to the floor in one swift motion. “So, tell me, what did you think of what my father said last night?”

Rogan slipped off his hood and sat down on one of the chairs in Beck’s room. “About the debt?” he asked.

Beck nodded.

“Odd really. Of course, we already learned about the Mage War, but I am now feeling more pride at being a shifter.” Rogan fingered the tattoo on his neck. “Because of my abilities, this mark makes me a protector of the realm,” he declared commandingly, standing up to slide his dagger from its sheath and put it through a variety of thrusts and parries with an imaginary foe.

Beck snorted a laugh. “That’s funny because Kiernan feels the exact opposite. She feels that the athame represents a chain around her neck.”

Rogan just shrugged and sat back down.

“I wonder if Adrian Ravener is still alive.” Beck mused aloud. It stood to reason that if Galen Starr was alive then their enemy could be as well. Maybe the Legion tours were not such a waste of time after all.

Already dressed in black trousers and a white shirt that laced at the front, Beck began stuffing items he would need for his trip into his backpack. When the room suddenly filled with light, he glanced over at Rogan who was lazily juggling three small fireballs.

“You’re not supposed to be using magic,” he said dryly, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. He was waiting for Rogan’s retort when there was a soft knock on his door and the fireballs vanished.

“Beck? Are you awake?”

It was his mother.

“Yes. Come in.”

Constance Atlan stepped into the room, clutching the sides of her dressing gown in one hand and a brown package in the other. Petite with short brown hair, his mother’s typical ready smile was absent and her brow was furrowed. Turning her head sharply to the side, she peered into the newly created shadow left by the disappearing fireballs.

“Rogan Radek,” she said sternly. “You would not happen to be making fire in my house again, would you?”

Rogan jumped clumsily to his feet, “Uh, well….” he stammered.

Beck grinned as his mother attempted a forbidding look on her face and stalked over to the young fireshifter. “Do I need to put you over my knee to teach you right from wrong, young man?”

“No ma’am,” answered Rogan lowering his face.

“Are you going to follow Commander Dismore’s orders and stay out of trouble at The Bluffs?”

“No ma’am…. I mean yes, ma’am!” he replied, flustered.

“Good!” Constance said and then could not hold back a giggle when she saw the look on the Dwarf’s face. She rubbed the top of his head, her characteristic smile back in place. “Can I still ruffle the hair of a legionnaire?”

Rogan nodded with a smile.

“Stay safe, Rogan, I will miss you,” she said softly and affectionately. Her tender words must have evoked a sense of maternal loss, because the fireshifter impulsively grabbed her in a tight hug and lifted her off her feet. She let out a startled exclamation and then hugged him back, just as tightly.

After a few moments, she said, “You can let me down now, Rogan.”

He did, looking up at her with a sheepish grin.

She jerked her head toward the door. “Now go so I can say good-bye to my other son.”

He nodded and looked over at Beck. “I will be waiting for you outside.”

After he was gone, Beck shook his head at his mother. “Did you have to threaten him with a strapping?”

“Well…,” she griped. “He deserved that! Last time he was here, he burned my favorite curtains.”

Beck remembered well. He would bet that the neighbors still remembered, too. There was plenty of screaming going on that day.

“What’s in the package?”

The frown reappeared. She held it out to him. “Take it. It is yours.”

Curious, he took the package and sat back down on the edge of his bed. Slowly, he untied the twine holding the edges of the package together and let the paper fall away, revealing a box the size of a small rock. Opening the lid, he saw a silver pendant nestled in the bottom surrounded by blue silk. He ran a finger lightly over the raised emblem pressed onto the pendant and then jerked his hand back in surprise. The pendant moved! It was embossed with the image of a man’s fist, and Beck watched in amazement as the animated hand moved from side to side, the veins and tendons on the back of the fist as detailed and alive as his own.

“What is it?” he breathed, picking it up out of the box by the chain attached.

His mother, who had her back to him, turned to gaze at the ornament dangling from his fingers. “I am not sure, but apparently it has magical properties,” she said dourly. “It belongs to you. On the day you were born, I had a visit from Galen Starr.”

Beck widened his eyes in disbelief. Again, mention of this infamous Mage from the past.

“He gave me that package with instructions that it be given to you when you began your eighteenth year.” She ran her hands through her hair distractedly. “With all of the preparations for Festival and your trip, I neglected to give this to you on your name day last month.”

He shook his head in confusion. “Why would Galen Starr give me anything? I don’t even know him.”

His mother looked at him as if she wanted to say something and then thought better of it. “I had never met Mage Starr before that one day eighteen years ago nor seen him since,” She wore a smile, but one that did not quite reach her eyes. “Please, Beck, wear it. I do not think that Galen Starr would make this gift to you unless it had meaning.” When he hesitated, she reached out to grab his free hand. “Please, Beck, I would feel better if I knew you had it on.”

Beck looked into his mother’s concerned eyes and wondered at the source. He said nothing, though, as he put the pendant around his neck as she had asked.

“Do you think it has something to do with my enhanced shifting powers?” he asked.

“I do not know, Beck,” she replied flatly.

“Well, I guess it will have to remain a mystery to be solved another day. Rogan is waiting for me.” He stood to hug his mother. Again, she seemed preoccupied, like something was on her mind. “Are you all right?” he finally asked.

“Yes, yes. Be careful, Beck,” she said softly, but intensely.

“I will.” He grabbed his pack and ran out the door with all of the exuberance of a young man leaving home for the first time and never noticed his mother watching from the window with tears making their slow track down her face as she realized with dismay that this was the first time she had ever deliberately lied to her son.

Chapter 4

L
ET THE
T
ESTS
B
EGIN