He tensed as a large shadow slowly peeled away from the trees on the side of the road and eyed him intently.
Even in the dark, Beck recognized those eyes.
They were Kiernan’s eyes.
Sighing with relief, he reluctantly let his magic go and the ball of earth fell apart and sank to the ground.
Kiernan’s snow-white Draca Cat moved silently to his side and gave him a nudge that almost sent him to the ground for a fifth time. Smiling, he reached out to pet the massive Draca whose head came up to his chest.
Extremely intelligent and fierce fighters, the cats were said to have been used in battle by the Mages of long ago. Today, the Dracas lived in solitude somewhere in the Puu Rainforest in the magically hidden land of Callyn-Rhe. Most people believed the cats to be more figments of overactive imaginations rather than made of actual flesh and blood. This belief was reinforced by the inability of people to reach the mythical land. Travelers caught up in the shield surrounding the Dracan realm were inexplicably turned around and forced onto paths designed to carry them further away no matter how many attempts were made to reach it.
Beck realized then how much he would miss him, too, when he left for the Crown Bluffs. Bajan was as much a part of the group as his other three friends. When people weren’t present, Bajan often joined in on their activities, communicating to them through Kiernan. With his dignified personality, however, he did not always approve of their exploits and was eager to let them know it with a disdainful click of his tongue here or a head toss there.
“Bajan, I forgot to ask Kiernan to meet me at the lake after the tests tomorrow. Can you let her know? I want to tell her good-bye.”
The cat nodded. “Thank you, my friend. Take care of her for me while I’m gone?”
Again, the cat nodded and then slipped away as silently as he appeared.
Beck turned and headed back down the road toward his house, wishing only that he make it home without falling into the dirt again this day.
Chapter 3
The House of Ravener
Adrian Ravener gazed out of the thick paned window of the study in his Keep in Nordik, the only named city in this unnamed land north of Massa.
It was raining outside as it did most days in this dark, dreary place. His powerful conjuring over the centuries had slowly stripped the island of all life and vitality, the plants and animals destroyed to the verge of extinction. Fortunately, it had yet to touch him. Even at three hundred and twenty six years, his face remained unlined and his body hard and strong.
He sat pensively behind his desk, idly tracing a circle around the rim of his wine glass. A Cyman slave girl sat at his feet holding a wine decanter on a tray, head bent meekly and her hair falling forward, covering her face.
“It’s almost over!” he hissed suddenly, slamming a fist on the desk. The slave girl flinched, almost spilling the tray.
“Patience, my brother,” drawled a voice from the doorway.
Adrian turned to see his sister stroll arrogantly into his study. Avalon had the same shoulder-length black hair as he, and her physical appearance was just as untouched by the years. Although, the alabaster skin, he readily admitted, was much more complimentary on her than on him. Combined with her almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones, she was a strikingly beautiful woman.
“Has the seer had another vision, Avalon?” he demanded impatiently.
“Yes,” she replied, stopping before his desk. She held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. “Even so, it changes nothing. The plan is still intact. Your army has been created and your ships built. Now is the time to reclaim what was so unfairly stolen from us.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, I asked you a question. What did the seer say?”
Instead of answering, she turned from him and walked to the window just as a flash of lightning streaked out of the dark, boiling clouds beyond the paned glass. “You know, Adrian, when you are back in power in Massa, I caution you to take much better care of it than you have this land.”
Adrian slammed his fist on the desk again and stood abruptly, sending the chair toppling back. The slave girl scrambled backwards to get out of his way. “I asked you about the seer, sister, and when I ask you a question, you had better answer!”
Avalon’s expression was cold as she slowly turned from the window. Without warning, she stalked over and slapped him across the face. Hard.
“Don’t you dare think you can talk to me that way, Adrian,” she snarled through clenched teeth. “I am not one of your slaves. Do you hear me?”
She didn’t raise her voice, but the menace it contained was unmistakable.
Adrian’s face mottled with rage. “You’ve pushed too far this time, Avalon!”
For a long dangerous moment, brother and sister glared at each other. Adrian struggled with 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.
But, it was Avalon who relented. She sighed and reached up to touch his reddened cheek. “Do not expect me to apologize for something that was necessary. You must keep your composure, Adrian! All we have hoped for and dreamt about is within reach! We must keep our goal in mind at all times. Agreed?”
He nodded slightly with a tight smile that lifted only one side of his mouth. “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.
The moment over, Avalon turned to the slave girl. “Miah, pour me some wine.” As Miah hurried to comply with her request, Avalon recited the seer’s words. “‘In the year that the star grows weak, the ravens begin their flight; Ancient skills long since dead, resurrect in the morning light; Beware the 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 meaning of the vision. “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’s about bloody time that old fool died. He has been wrecking havoc on this world for far too long.”
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 that 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 had ferreted out the importance of that passage. “I have my theories,” he answered 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 let him know of our desire to have the seer’s quarters next to ours. We should be ready to sail in two days’ time.”
Also surprising, 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 ev
ening.” As Avalon started away, she unabashedly dropped her black robe revealing her nakedness beneath. The air shimmered around her as she bodyshifted into a Cyman girl and turned back to wink at Miah before closing the door behind her.
Adrian shuddered in abhorrence. The Cyman beasts repulsed him, and he didn’t know how his sister could inhabit their body for even a moment.
He turned to the young slave girl, swung his arm back and slammed his fist into her face. Miah yelped and fell to one knee. “You heard her, you filthy cow, now move!”
The girl stood to leave, and Adrian glared at her in disgust as she straightened to her full seven-foot 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 stood next to his bed dressed in a dark cloak with the hood up, his face in shadows. Beneath the cloak, Beck noticed the long knife sheathed in a belt at his waist.
“You expecting a war?” Beck asked, 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 harder 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. “About the debt?”
Beck nodded.
“Odd, really. Of course, we already learned about the Mage War, but I’m now feeling more pride at being a shifter. My athame proclaims me a protector of the realm!” he declared commandingly, sliding his knife from its sheath and putting 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 down on one of the chairs in Beck’s room.
“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.
Beck dressed and began stuffing the items he would need for his trip into his pack. 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 flatly, slinging the pack 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 night cloak in one hand and a brown package in the other. Petite with short brown hair, her typical ready smile was absent this morning 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, you would not happen to be making fire in my house again, would you?” she asked sternly.
Rogan jumped clumsily to his feet, “Uh, well…”
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?”
“No, ma’am,” answered Rogan lowering his head.
“Are you going to follow Commander Dismore’s orders and stay out of trouble at the Crown Bluffs?”
“No, ma’am…I mean yes, ma’am!” he replied, flustered.
“Good!” His mother could no longer hold back her giggle at 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 put 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’ll be waiting for you outside.”
After he was gone, Beck shook his head at his mother. “He’s a little old to be threatening with a strapping, isn’t he?”
“Well, he deserved that!” she griped. “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 do you have?”
The frown reappeared. She held it out to him. “Take it. It’s 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 wrap together and let the paper fall away, revealing a box the size of a small rock. Opening the lid, he noticed a silver pendant nestled in blue silk. He ran a finger lightly over the raised emblem pressed into the pendant and then jerked his hand back in surprise. It moved! Embossed with the image of a man’s fist, the animated hand moved from side to side, the veins and tendons as detailed and alive as his own.
“What is it?” Beck breathed in amazement, picking it up out of the box by the chain attached.
His mother, who had been facing the window, turned to gaze at the ornament dangling from his fingers. “I’m not sure, but apparently it has magical properties. In any case, 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 the 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 have I seen him since. But, please wear it, Beck. I don’t think 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 don’t know, Beck.”
“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 of the door with all the exuberance of a young man leaving home for the first time. He never noticed his mother watching from the window with tears making a 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
Let the Tests Begin
The sun had yet to make an appearance, but a subtle swash of pink across the eastern horizon greeted Beck as he walked with Rogan through the enormous, twin stone pillars that marked the entrance to the walled Parsis Academy. The imposing castle had lorded over the city, serving as both a school and a dormitory for parentless shifter children, for more years than most could remember.
Beck scanned the courtyard for Airron. Regular academic classes were cancelled for the day, which allowed the legionnaires of Troop 158 to have the grounds to themselves as they milled about waiting restlessly for Commander Dismore to appear.
Grimacing, Beck spotted Airron standing with a defensive posture in front of the argumentative legionnaire from last night, Heath, and two of his friends. Airron had a tight-lipped smile on his face. “Uh-oh,” Beck said, nudging Rogan with his elbow. “Airron has that stupid grin on his face.”
“Which one?”
“Remember when Jak Mason tried to blame Airron for stealing from Master Martyn’s till?”
Rogan looked where Beck pointed. “We better get over there,” he growled.
As they started away, Rogan leaned over and grabbed a stout rod from one of the legionnaire’s backpacks. “Mind if I borrow this?” he asked, without stopping.
The legionnaire watched Rogan walk away and shrugged his shoulders. “I guess not.”
Beck raised an eyebrow at his friend, but didn’t comment.
The trio of earthshifters belligerently watched them approach. “Looks like your reinforcements have arrived, bodyshifter,” sneered one of the boys with a mop of curly blonde hair. Jon Anders, Beck thought his name was.
“Wait a minute, Jon,” said Heath, looking around. “One is missing. Oh, yes, that green-eyed witch from the campfire last night.”
Without a word, Rogan stalked over to Heath, pulled out the rod and brought it down on the bridge of his nose. The earthshifter screamed out in surprise and pain. His friends growled in rage.
“How dare you!” Heath snarled, blood gushing from his nose. He waved his hands and a faint tremor ran through the ground at their feet.
Airron laughed. “Was that earthshifting or did an acorn just fall from a tree?”
Heath’s face reddened. “You and your friends think you can show us all up with your mighty powers, but we’re here to tell you that it’s not going to happen. We might not be super freak shifters like you, but we know how to fight.”