Island Shifters: Book 02 - An Oath of the Mage (28 page)

He did now.

After six long years on the Island of Massa, it looked as if he finally may be able to go home and return to the wife and children that he prayed still waited for him, but who in all probability believed him long dead.

He tried to visualize how Nordik might look now and wondered if sunlight and new growth had returned now that the Mage was gone. Life had a way of doing that. Resurrecting out of the ashes. Blossoming in the least expected ways. There was no force more powerful than the will to exist.

He turned to look back at the body lying on the floor behind him. It still made him shudder to look at her-at what she had become.

The earthshifter, who had left a few moments before with his Elven friend, promised to be back and Cyrus believed him. He just hoped it did not take long.

“Are we really goin’ ‘ome, Cyrus?”

He turned to his friend, Arlen, with his newfound smile. They had fought side by side in the war and managed to survive with their lives if not their freedom. Mercifully, that was all about to change.

He nodded in response to Arlen’s question. “It looks like it. It will be nice to see the look on Crissa’s face when she sees me agin.”

Arlen snickered. “The great mighty Cyman warrior, Cyrus, back from the dead! I feel like dancin’ I am so ‘appy.”

Cyrus patted Arlen’s back. “Settle down, my friend. It may be a week or more before the earthshifter returns.”

“Well, I’ll be waitin’! Come on, Cyrus, let’s get somethin’ to eat. We don’t even ‘ave to worry about our rations anymore. We can eat whatever and whenever we want!”

Cyrus shook his head in wonder at his friend’s casual statement. So simple, yet so meaningful. Never in his entire life had he ever been able to eat what he wanted. To hunt or grow his own food and prepare it however he wished. He ate the little that was handed out to him—no more, no less. There had never been any other choice. Choices were for his betters.

Now, thanks to the earthshifter, a world of choice had opened up for them.

“Just think, Cyrus! We can sleep when and where we want! Wear what we want! Sing! Dance! Oh, spirits, this is goin’ to take some gettin’ used to.”

With another smile, Cyrus turned to follow the ecstatic Arlen back through the cavern. When he neared the corpse on the ground, he realized that they would have to do something with it soon.

Stepping gingerly around the pale, translucent body, a scream tore from his mouth when a taloned hand seized his ankle in a viselike grip.

“You are going nowhere, Cyman.”

Through the torture of her contractions, Kiernan scanned the great hall searching for a weapon—anything—she could use against Roman. Miss Belle was unconscious and Kirby Nash was sitting against his furniture barricade with a blank stare.

It was up to her alone to somehow survive this madman. It was still a mystery to her what Roman’s motives were. Did this also have something to do with Beck’s disappearance?

Of course, it did! How could she have been so blind? The only way Beck Atlan could have been kidnapped under Roman Traynor’s watch, was if Roman himself had allowed it to happen.

Beck’s protector was working with Avalon Ravener.

That bastard!

“Roman!” she screamed at him. “Tell me why, traitor! Why would you align yourself with Avalon Ravener against Beck? Your friend!”

Roman stopped and turned back to her. “Avalon Ravener? I know nothing of that witch. Your husband was kidnapped because of an influential group of dissenters who wanted to see change in this country. Both him and Maximus were targeted so that Davad Etin could be crowned King of Iserlohn. It is that simple.”

So, he was in league with Davad Etin and not Avalon Ravener? It did not make any sense.

A sharp contraction coursed through her again and she thought she was going to die right there before Roman Traynor had an opportunity to lay a single finger on her. She panted through the pain while the Saber looked down at her with a smirk.

“Looks like it hurts,” he observed mockingly.

“And, me, Roman?” she asked through clenched teeth. “Am I to be killed for the same reason? For political gain?”

His laugh was scathing. “Oh, the faction wanted you dead, but their reasons are not mine. I want you dead, Your Grace, because six years ago, you helped my mother kill my father.”

Confused, Kiernan was about to question him further when he dropped down to his knees by her side and grabbed her hair. “Harden Sullivan, Your Grace! Do you recognize that name? It was my father’s name! His friends called him Sully! Are things becoming clearer now, Your Grace?”

Kiernan responded softly, her tone filled with regret. “I was trying to help your mother, Roman. Your father had…”

With his free hand, he slapped her across the face. “Shut up! No more lies!”

Letting go of her hair, he stood and walked back toward the double doors. “Nash! Look at me!”

He needed to mindshift Kirby again. His magic was not as strong as hers, so he had to keep reinforcing Kirby’s shifted state.

She screamed out in pain once again, but this time it felt different. She realized with horror that the baby was coming! Now! There was no more time. Her body felt like it was ripping in two when she felt the baby’s head pushing out of her body.

Her magic, dormant for months, flared to life within her and she knew then that the preservation instinct of her power was progressing the delivery in an act of survival.

She sat up and tried to stop the birth, but it was no use. Bearing down on her lower belly, she gave a tentative push and a low primal moan ripped from her throat as a dark-haired head popped free. One more frantic push with all of her waning strength, and the baby slid the rest of the way clear of her body onto the linen tablecloth.

She looked down with a sob.

Beck was right.

It was a boy.

A beautiful, defenseless babe, and she had brought him into this world under the most devastating of conditions. Tears poured down her cheeks. He was so tiny and covered in blood. She grabbed one side of the tablecloth and swaddled him as best she could and cradled him to her breast. How many minutes did she have? How many seconds to love this precious little baby in her arms?

She heard another scuffle behind her and realized that Miss Belle had gained consciousness and was attacking Roman again.

Suddenly, another contraction shot through her abdomen.

What was happening? The pain should have subsided now that the baby was born!

To her complete astonishment, she felt another being try to thrust its way out of her body. With a fearful groan, she laid her wrapped son next to her side and looked down at the crown of light hair on the second baby. She pushed with all of her might, but this one was not so easy. It took several silent but painful grunts of effort before the head emerged. She gripped the little shoulders when they appeared and with a gentle pull, guided the child free.

Another son.

She could barely see him through her blurred vision, but she knew he was as beautiful as his brother. She used the other end of the linen now drenched in red to wrap this baby and then picked up the first one once again. Lying back down on her side, she brought her knees up and sobbed, cradling her two cherished bundles close to her heart.

Kiernan did not know how long she laid there. Seconds probably, but if felt longer. She flinched when she heard Roman’s angry footsteps striding back down the marble aisle.

Thump, thump.

He was coming for her.

Thump, thump.

Coming for her babies.

Mercifully, exhaustion filled her mind and body with an almost peaceful acceptance of what was to come. She was simply not capable of anything more. She had lost quite a bit of blood and could not even remember the last time she had anything to eat. But, how silly to be thinking of that now, she chided herself, when she should be treasuring these last seconds with her sons.

Thump, thump.

She smiled as she looked down at their little faces one last time.

Oh, Beck, you should see them! You would love them as much as I already do!

Kiernan’s shoulders jerked violently and she gasped in fright when a splintering explosion resounded through Grace Hall. Instinctively, she covered the babies with her body as wooden fragments from the furniture barricade rained down on top of them. She heard Kirby Nash cry out and looked up as his body went sailing through the air, smashed into one of the marble pillars that lined the aisle and then slid to the floor in a broken heap.

Fighting through her frailty and the lethal maelstrom, Kiernan rolled off the tablecloth, grabbed an edge of the linen and dragged her sons underneath one of the heavy dinner tables.

She tucked her body underneath and waited for the sounds of the onslaught to fade. When they showed no signs of abating, she mustered her strength and heaved her body to her knees to peek up over the table.

It was Kenley!

Her daughter was standing in the entrance to Grace Hall with her arm lifted. She was still creating a turbulent tornado of air while she searched the room for danger. Baya, at her side, bellowed a howl of aggression that made Kiernan’s spine tingle.

The sight of her daughter sent a torrent of adrenaline flowing through her. “Kenley, look out for Roman!”

Her daughter’s black ringlets swirled around her head as she sought out the Saber. It was disconcerting for Kiernan to see her daughter wielding so much power and so resolute upon destruction.

She was five years old.

Suddenly, Roman let out a roar and charged through the rubble toward Kenley. He was bleeding from multiple cuts on his face and blood droplets flew from him as he ran.

Kiernan left her sons under the table and began crawling up the aisle. She had to get to her daughter! “Kenley!”

She watched Kenley make a rotating circle with her hand and then thrust it out toward the advancing Saber. A powerful airstream hit Roman in the chest and threw him back onto the floor. He tried to get up but it was Kenley now advancing on him. She stalked toward him with her arm still out, holding him in place. His body slid backward on the marble, and he tried to scrabble away from the force of the airstream she commanded, but he was powerless against her magic. Kenley flicked her wrist and drove the Saber to the edge of the floor and up the wall where he was pinned flat against the stone.

“Maman?”

“Yes, Kenley, I am here.”

“What should I do with him?”

Kiernan shook her head in remorse. A five-year-old should never have to face the prospect of such violence. She also realized that her daughter had not yet been marked. There had been no time. If she had, she would not have asked that question.

“Do not kill him, Kenley,” she said softly, regretfully.

“I am not sure if I can stop it, Maman!”

“You must,” she mumbled weakly.

Kiernan could see the effort on her daughter’s face and then she dropped her arm and Roman fell to the marble floor with a grunt.

A growl echoed throughout the hall. “There’s no blood oath holding me back!” It was Miss Belle, and she cried out as she ran toward the Saber with the leg of a broken table raised before her like a club.

Roman took one look at the charging woman and stood, taking off at a run to dive through one of the stained glass windows of Grace Hall.

Miss Belle caught up at the window and looked down at the one story drop. “He’s running away! Coward! Come back here again and I’ll show you what happens to traitorous filth like you!”

Kiernan had been making her way up the aisle, but now that Roman was gone, she began crawling anxiously back to her sons. She just now realized that she had never heard either one of them cry.

“Miss Belle! My sons!”

“Sons? You had the baby?” Miss Belle asked, obviously confused as both she and Kenley rushed past her to the table with the linen tablecloth peeking out from underneath.

Kiernan got up onto her hands and knees now so she could move faster. Leaving her own trail of blood on the marble floor, she began crying again.

Miss Belle had already moved the table from over the boys and Kiernan almost did not want to look, terrified that they were dead.