Island Shifters: Book 03 - An Oath of the Children (33 page)

Jain! Inside!
Maks snarled.

The Elves also heard
the noise and ground to an abrupt
stop, unsure of what they were hearing.

Kellan knew.

High over the land, two tubular
streams
of water coiling like large snakes,
slithered toward the
enemy. A
figure could be seen riding each
liquid serpent with arms outstretched
guiding the
movements of the water.

It was Reilly Radek and Digby!

Jala must have also recognized the sound because she
staggered
to
her feet and
rushed to
peer over the railing.

“Reilly!” she screamed at her brother.

Even over the
sound
of the gushing sea streams, Reilly heard her and waved with a grin on his face.

Kellan saw him motion to Digby who gave a curt nod in response. Reilly
then
made
exaggerated
circular movements with his hands
similar to what Alia
performed at the pier. The wave
Reilly was riding
flowed faster in response
to his weaving
and
seconds
before the water slammed into the Ellvinian
Army, Reilly jumped
away from
his
stream.

Kellan’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Reilly fall through the
air with
legs and arms windmilling
furiously. Just when
Kellan thought
for sure
his friend was going to
crash to the ground,
Digby swooped
in
low
with his wave
and caught Reilly
within
the
watery depths
of his shifted water stream.

The
jet
carrying the two watershifters
made an
abrupt
turn
to the right and
shot toward the open balcony
where Kellan stood with the others.
He
sprang out of the way as the stream deposited the two
soaking
wet
shifters into the bedroom
and then
collapsed into
a lake-sized puddle in the courtyard
below.

Kellan looked back outside
to
gauge
the damage.

Reilly’s rapidly flowing torrent
cut a swath through the Ellvinians, and the Elves caught up in the
onslaught
of
rushing
water
were swept
away
south.
The
Ellvinian
line
finally
did break then
and all those still on dry land retreated to escape the
danger.

The siege was off. For the moment.

A
chill raced up Kellan’s spine
when he heard the primal cry of Digby inside the guest
chamber.
It could only mean
one thing. Someone just told him that his
only daughter was dead.

C
HAPTER
26

S
URRENDER

Kane sat
alone
in the
mayor’s
darkened
office
and gritted his teeth against the screams
coming
from outside
the estate.
Having recovered from the deadly watershifting, the Ellvinians stepped up their efforts to terrorize by ferreting out more
citizens
hiding in the city
and using
their
torture as a tactic to get the shifters to surrender.

Every
cry
of a Massan was like an arrow directly
to
the heart for
a
shifter. The blood oath within
Kane’s
body roared with the demand for vengeance and his body trembled from
the strength of its resolve.

Twice more during the night, the Ellvinians tried to break past their defenses. Twice more they turned them back. But, the shifters were tiring. They would not last much longer.
All those
trapped
within
the estate
looked to the
royals
for orders on how to proceed, but when it came down to it, the fate of Northfort rested in the hands of children.

And, this child never felt more out of his element.

Kellan and Kenley were more suited to leading men than
he was.
His preference leaned toward
a more solitary existence on the periphery of life—a
proclivity
most likely
attributed to the
existence of his golden eyes. From a very young age,
other children
shied away from his glowing orbs
and gave him wide berth.
For most
people, anything different was to be feared and he was certainly different.

Instead, he sought solace in the shadows, seeking knowledge through observation and shunning personal entanglements. Except Alia. Alia was someone he could have walked out into the light for, only now she was gone.

He
reached out and ran his hand through Jain’s white coat. The Draca Cat was
silent for once, and
he
was grateful.

Kane straightened when the door to the
office
slowly
opened. His eyes,
already
accustomed to the darkness, had no trouble making out the old woman that shuffled inside and closed the door behind her. A gnarled hand thrust into the air toward the candles
on the
mayor’s
side table
and flared to life.

A fireshifter? If so, where did she come from?
Even more strange,
Jain did not growl at her.

Kane got to his feet
and
cleared his throat so that he could make his presence known without frightening her.

She
turned her gaze to him, and Kane
took a step
back.
Her eyes were completely white.

She chuckled at his reaction. “It would seem that you are not the only one who carries around the yoke of an anomalous eye color, Prince.”

Kane looked away, ashamed that he reacted
in
the same way he abhorred in others.

The old woman moved closer
and stopped just inches from him.
Without warning, her hand came up and
slapped him across the face. Hard. “Snap out of it,”
she growled at him.

Kane ignored the stinging burn on his face and glared at the woman. “May I ask what I did to offend you, my lady?”

She pointed a
crooked
finger at his chest.
“You offend me by sulking in a corner when the people of Massa require you to fulfill your oath!
You offend me by wallowing over the death of a young girl who is happily in the arms of the spirits!
And, you offend me by not realizing
just
how uniquely talented you are to end
this battle with the Ellvinians!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you are a sightshifter, are you not?”

“Yes.”

“Then, do what you alone have the power to do!”

“Which is?”

“Surrender!”

* * * * *

Emile stalked through the muddy wet sand left behind by the
twin
tidal
waves
that crashed through Northfort with
a snarl, his
murderous glare locked on a circle of Battlearms
tormenting
two young Massan women by shoving them back and forth
between them. Each time one of the girls was caught by a fighter,
another piece of
clothing was torn from her body.

The smaller of the girls
lifted her hand to
slap
the fighter that held her and
received a closed fist strike to the face
for it. She
crumpled to the ground in a senseless heap.

“Enough!” Emile
hollered
and the fighters immediately snapped to attention. He
strode directly
to the
Battlearm
who hit the girl and slammed his fist into the fighter’s stomach and, when he doubled over, brought his knee up
into
his face. The Ellvinian grunted and fell to the ground
beside the girl.

Emile pointed to two other fighters. “Bring these two girls back to their people. If
any of
you lay one more disrespectful finger on
one of the prisoners,
I will have your head!”

“But, Second Samara
said—”

“Second
Samara?” he roared. “Are you a bloody Eyereader now
or a Battlearm?”

The fighter
bowed at the waist. “Of course, a Battlearm, Second.”

Emile
glared at the circle of men
in disgust. “Is this the way of Ellvinians? To debase innocent women outside of battle?”

“Well, no, Second, but the Massans struck first with the ground exploding, and the fire, and then those bloody waves! We lost good people!”

“Oh, they struck first, did they?” he snapped. “And, whose soil do we
now stand on? Think
on
it and
then
tell me who struck first.” He turned and
walked
away without waiting for an answer. It did not require one. “Get those girls back to their people,” he shouted over his shoulder.

He cursed as he boots sank into the sand and headed toward the wooden pier built up around the merchant’s
district. As if he did not have enough
to
worry about with
Tolah
on the loose and the Massans entrenching themselves within the mayor’s estate, now he
had Samara getting involved in affairs where she did not belong. She was an Eyereader for Netherworld’s sake!

He scrubbed a hand down his face. He needed sleep was what he needed. He pulled his cloak tighter around his body. The bitter cold temperature was something he was also not prepared for.
Although only a
few days
ocean voyage
to the west,
the island of
Ellvin
did not experience
the
drastic
fluctuation in the weather
as here on Massa. He
found himself longing
for the balmy breezes of his homeland.

Emile stepped up onto
the wooden platform and walked to the Salty Dog,
once one
of the more popular inns in Northfort and now the Ellvinian headquarters.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. Samara was seated at one of the inn’s tables by the large fireplace in the back of the room. Emile strode up to the Massan bartender wiping down
mugs
behind the bar. “I will have spiced wine if you have it.”

The burly Massan eyed him malevolently and turned to pour the wine without comment.

Emile thanked the fellow as soon as
the drink was
in his hands and made his way over to Samara. Ignoring the two
Shiprunners sitting with her, he grabbed a chair,
spun it around
and straddled it.
“Is it safe for me to turn my back on the fellow behind me?” he asked Samara, nodding toward the bartender.

She waved a hand.
“Do not worry. We have his wife and son.
He will not be causing any problems.”

Emile
glanced at the
two
Shiprunners. “Leave us.”

The
sailors glanced at Samara and she nodded her consent.
He watched them go and pulled his long black hair away from his face to take a sip of his wine. “You are commanding the Shiprunners now, Samara?”

She shrugged. “With Chandal now gone, they need someone to direct them.”

“Do what you must, but I will not have you giving orders to the Battlearms. Do you hear me?”