Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood (43 page)

He wondered if Beck found Kiernan. Were they in Sarphia now? With Airron? When he did not show up in Sarphia with his pendant, what would they do? Without a counter to Adrian Ravener’s magic, the Mage would have free reign to kill all who stood in opposition and enslave those who did not.

It was hard not to feel guilty, as the reason for his current predicament fell squarely on his shoulders. He was the one who sauntered directly into Deepstone without any consideration of how the people would feel about having a shifter in their midst. For all they knew, he was a fugitive from exile. As a group with Beck, Kiernan and Airron, and along with King Maximus’ Decree of Purpose, they had a chance of succeeding. Rogan, traveling alone, as it was now painfully clear, was a huge lapse in judgment, and it was his idea to split up. With Kiernan missing, Beck was in no condition to see things reasonably. Centering his argument conveniently on the need for his pendent, Rogan’s real intent, he finally admitted to himself, was to find out more about his lineage. To find his family.

A family that no longer existed in this world.

That was not entirely true. He still had an uncle, albeit one who wanted to secure a heavy weight around his neck and throw him into the Koda River.

He sat up from the stone floor and leaned against the wall. The only other item in the tiny cell was a bucket of his urine and a tray of bread and cheese the guards had left earlier, and it sat untouched near the door. He was not hungry. He realized he was growing weak by not eating and moving about, but he could not find it in himself to care, the guilt eating away at his will.

He flinched at a squeak coming from the shadowed corner of the cell that signified the arrival of one of the many rats that shared his dwelling and nipped at him while he slept. His fingers were raw and bloodied from their nighttime attacks, and he watched idly as the large rodent made its way over to his tray of food.

He can have it
, he thought, and laid back down, turning his back to the rat and his meal.

Sometime later, he jerked awake simultaneously by a rat chomping down harshly on this thumb and the sound of a key being inserted into the door of his cell. He batted the rat across the room and it smashed into the opposite wall with a thud. Peering into the dark at the two figures bent over the lock, he squatted onto the balls of his feet preparing to defend himself. Because of the guards’ wariness of his magic, it was out of character for them to get this close to his cell. Usually, they just slid his tray of food under the iron bars with a long pole, well out of sight.

As soon as the door was unlocked, two Dwarves slipped furtively inside.

“What do you want?” he asked roughly.

“Rogan, it’s me, Dillon.”

Rogan relaxed his defensive stance and stood. “Dillon? What are you doing here?”

A sarcastic feminine voice answered. “Saving your hide, obviously.”

Dillon threw Rogan’s pack to him, which he caught and quickly hefted over his shoulder. “Come on, we have to leave before someone notices that the guard upstairs with his head on the table is not taking a nap.”

Rogan stared at the duo questioningly. “Did you kill him?”

“No,” replied Dillon, then asked with curiosity, “Would it matter?”

Rogan nodded. “To me it would. The guard is not guilty of any crime, and my blood oath prevents me from harming or condoning the harm of innocent people. Especially on my behalf.”

The girl snorted. “How noble. Can we discuss after we get out of here?” she said, looking anxiously back toward the stairs. She had long, auburn hair that hung casually around her shoulders, out of place with her austere soldier’s tunic.

Dillon nodded. “Rogan, this is Janin, a soldier in the Deepstone Army and, Highworld help me, my best friend and the only reason she is here breaking every Dwarven law in existence.”

Janin turned and shook her head at Dillon playfully. “Not the only reason. I happen to think King Rik is being a blunderhead and that we need to get this man out of here. Unlike the King, who appears to harbor prejudice on this subject, I can see reason. Let me see. Either we get him out of here or we end up enslaved by a fanatical Mage.” She went to the cell door. “I always was a fan of logic.”

Janin hurried out and led the way up the stairs with Rogan and Dillon close behind. Both of the Dwarves held long knives in their hands. Rogan hoped, for their sakes, it would not come to a confrontation. He did not want them to be hurt trying to save him.

At the top of the stairs, Rogan saw the guard with his head face down on his arms. He did appear to be sleeping and, hopefully, that would buy them some time.

He quickly grabbed his belt and dagger hanging from a peg behind the guard, and then they sprinted out of the room and down a stone passageway, moving fast. Whenever they heard voices, Janin directed them into a shadowed alcove until the way was clear. After several long moments of running, they arrived at an exterior door, pushed their way out into the night, and snaked along the perimeter of the castle. Rogan breathed in the fresh night air greedily. It was sheer ecstasy after having been closeted underground for so long. His legs, unused to movement, were trembling with the exertion, and it was adrenaline alone that was keeping him upright and running after Janin and Dillon.

Janin turned to him. “Do you have a cloak?”

He grabbed his pack and was relieved to find his cloak still inside. He nodded.

“Put it on.” She pointed. “We are going to be walking through that stone passageway ahead in sight of the night guards who will be on top of the wall above us. Whatever you do, do not run. Walk steady. Our uniforms will be visible so we should not arouse any suspicion.”

Rogan nodded and quickly donned his cloak.

“Do not put up the hood, it will look suspicious. Follow closely.”

Reluctantly, the three forced themselves away from the safety of the shadows and entered the stone passageway. Like the cities of Deeport and Kondor, the entire royal grounds was a complex network of stone. Stone passageways, walls, and stairs. As they walked, Dillon turned and waved to the guard on the wall. Rogan did not dare look back to see if the guard acknowledged the wave. At least, he thought thankfully, he did not hear any alarm.

It took every bit of willpower he possessed not to sprint for the streets and courtyard gate beyond. Imprisonment was not a fate he ever wished to revisit. He would burn this place to the ground—if only stone would burn—before he would allow them to put him back into that cell.

They rounded a corner and Janin guided them briskly to a door that led back into the castle. Rogan grabbed her arm. “Why are we going back in?” he hissed, not able to keep a touch of desperation out of his voice.

She stopped and looked at him and then at his hand on her arm. “Unless you are prepared to use magic, get your hand off me or I will slice it off.”

Rogan looked at her with wild eyes and then released her.

“In answer to your question, it is the safest and quickest route. There are tunnels in the castle that will take us underground and outside of the city wall.”

He hesitated a moment, sweat beading his brow. It took all of his courage to say, “Fine, I will follow.”

The three Dwarves pushed their way back into the pitch-blackness of the palace.

“Dillon, where is the torch?” asked Janin, and Rogan could hear her fumbling around.

Dillon sounded panicked. “I left one right here and it is gone!”

Now that his eyes were adjusting to the gloom, Rogan could see the outline of the two Dwarves feeling around in the dark for the torch. He called forth a flame of light. “Does this help?”

They both looked up at him with a gasp, a mixture of both surprise and anger on their faces. “Do not do that!” snarled Janin.

Shaking his head in confusion, Rogan said, “We need light, do we not? This is light.”

“It is light created from magic which, in case you have not heard, is outlawed on this island,” retorted Dillon.

“Yes, well, the world has changed, Dillon. The Magical Kingdom of Pyraan has been destroyed, we are under threat of slavery at best and annihilation at worse by a rogue Mage, and we are running for our lives from a King who wants to murder me. Against that, you are worried about a flame to light our way?”

“Good point,” murmured Dillon with a shrug.

Rogan turned away from them in frustration. “I do not understand this fear of magic. Please tell me so I understand!”

Dillon shuffled his feet, at a loss as to how to answer his question. Janin had no such qualms. “Have you forgotten that you were exiled in Pyraan for a reason, shifter? Did they not teach you anything about the legacy of magic use?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, and the legacy of magic before three evil Mages decided to destroy the world was inspiring. Magic was used to heal the dying, to create cures for the sick, to defend the weak. Does having magic automatically make you an evil person? If a Dwarf kills another, does it make all Dwarves murderers? If a dog bites a child, does it mean all dogs bite people?” He shook his head in frustration. “You cannot confine the legacy of magic to the Mage War, you just cannot.”

Janin gazed at him with a look he could not identify. “No, and I will admit that there are valuable uses to magic. But, there is also the ability to cause great harm on a very large scale. If one Dwarf kills another, it is one person. If a dog bites a child, it is one child. If an evil Mage decides to use magic for sinister purpose, he can destroy the world. That, my friend, is why we are afraid.”

Rogan shook his head. “The shifters would never let that happen again. And, if we are fortunate enough to defeat Ravener, he will be the last of the Mages. So,” he continued impatiently, “should I plunge us back into darkness so you can continue to stumble around looking for a torch and flint or should we be on our way?”

Dillon grinned and Janin snorted.

“Your help is appreciated and welcome,” said Dillon magnanimously and held out his hand in a gesture for Rogan to continue down the passageway and to lead them.

Rogan nodded curtly and sprinted ahead in the stone tunnel, the flame in his hand held out before him. As soon as they came to an intersection, he asked Dillon, “Can you take me to my old home? As I told you before, I must retrieve an item that will help us in our efforts.”

Dillon nodded. “I thought you might want to head there. We better hurry, though, because the King will be thinking the same thing.”

He was right, thought Rogan. That is exactly where King Rik would look for his escaped nephew. After all these weeks, he was still trying to wrap his mind around that information. King Rik killed his parents and, given the chance, Rogan was sure he intended to visit the same fate on him.

As Dillon started to leave, Rogan grabbed his arm. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Thank you and Janin both for getting me out of that cell. I honestly don’t know how much longer I could have lasted.”

Dillon held out his hand, and the two men shook hands. “I know you do not remember me, but I have thought of you often over the years. For what it is worth, I think it is foolish to banish magic users.” Dillon did not let go of Rogan’s arm, but held it tighter and looked him in the eye. “I am your friend. I am in this with you to the end.”

Rogan looked at him in surprise. “Glad to have you on my side, friend.” He looked over at Janin who was anxiously looking down both sides of the tunnel. “You as well, Janin.”

She gave him that look again and nodded with a small smile. “As much as I would like to stand around and chatter, a little more running would suit me just fine. We have demons to fight.”

“Demons?” questioned Rogan sharply.

Dillon shrugged. “Did I forget to mention that?”

Just then, the alarm Rogan feared finally sounded.

Earthshine was less than a week away, but that fact no longer concerned Kiernan. Especially when, whenever she felt a pang of guilt, there was always a Gem nearby to convince her that her involvement was not necessary. The relentless indoctrination into the coven left little room for any cognitive awareness of current or past events. She accepted the fact that she would always have a void in her heart and mind by her separation from Beck and Bajan, but it was slowly filling in with new purpose and activities.

Humming softly, she casually made her way to Gemini’s chambers with the intention of discussing the evening’s ceremony. As she walked, she realized that it felt as if she had been here all her life. She enjoyed working with Citrine and the sorceresses of her Sect, honing her combat skills. It still amazed her how the power of the gemstone heightened speed and strength to such an enormous degree. The women in Citrine’s Sect were lethal, and she was looking forward to her advancement in the coven so that she would be able to work with the stone one day.