Free Island Shifters: Book 03 - An Oath of the Children by Valerie Zambito

Elves.
    Now is the time, Dracas! Follow close behind! If we must fight our way past, then that is what we will do!
    The importance of the moment was not lost on Nazar. For the first time in recent history, he was leading the Draca Cats out of seclusion and into civilization among the other races.
    He started forward, head held high.
    The first Elves that caught sight of the procession of Draca Cats stopped what they were doing and stared.
    Nazar let out an aggressive roar and waited for the most dominant of the Elves to challenge him. Instead, the Elves dropped to one knee and lowered their heads in a submissive stance very well known to him. What is this? he demanded of no cat in particular.
    Cautiously, Nazar continued to lead the way, wary of a surprise attack, but it never came. Instead, he watched as one by one, the Elves bowed down to him and his followers.
    Nazar, look!
    Nazar turned. In the center of the path up ahead, stood a stone image of a Draca Cat. Proud and elegant and fierce.
    He had been right.
    In this very moment, he knew without misgiving that his act of violence against Moombai had been justified. The stone reproduction proved that the Draca Cats of Callyn-Rhe held a place of honor among the Massans and this is where they belonged, out among their subjects.
    Nazar nodded majestically to the Elves he passed, accepting the due of his birthright. All was as it should be.
    Do not harm the Elves! They know the truth of it. They are our disciples! Let us now go to the land of Men. We shall see if they also know the truth. If they do not, we must teach them.
     
    * * * * *
     
    “Careful now, you bumbling idiots!” Hendrix shouted from inside the closed palanquin. “For Netherworld’s sake, you are not carrying a pig to slaughter!”
    In response, the fighters adjusted the long wooden poles on their shoulders and the ride smoothed out once again. Hendrix leaned back on the cushioned bed, brought the draught to his lips, and took a long pull of the life-sustaining liquid. He peered outside through the diaphanous curtains at the long lines of people waiting at the infirmaries for their daily ration of wormwood. Many of those in line would be turned away empty handed. If their name was not on a list, there would be no draught for them today. And, it was not just the poor any longer who were in dire need of the elixir. Hendrix also noticed several affluent merchants in line. It was an unavoidable fact. As the supplies diminished, the lists shortened, no matter how much money you had to spend. The system of bribery that the wealthy depended on—and that notoriously circulated more coin than any legitimate commerce on the island—had dried up along with the wormwood.
    Most of the Ellvinians ignored the convoy of fighters that carried him or, worse, shook their fists his way. They blamed him for not being able to reverse the failing health of the people, but he recalled a time not too long ago when his presence elicited loving gazes and shouts of adoration. Now, he was met with openly hostile looks as the people on the street glared at him through eyes bleak from wormwood deficiency and cold from hatred. They could tell by looking at him that he did not suffer their same fate. But, why should he? He was the Premier!
    Very soon, he would be their beloved champion once again. First, though, he needed to inform the Seconds. Chandal of the Shiprunners and Samara of the Eyereaders were actively carrying out his plans in Massa, and Emile of the Battlearms, of course, was at his side. That left Jarl of the Ironfingers, Balder of the Sagehands, and Anah of the Coinholders. The wormwood they would welcome with open arms, but what would they decide about the blood?
    The bearers came to a stop and lowered him to the ground. Hendrix set his empty cup on a shelf and adjusted his tongor.
    Emile peeled back the curtain. “We have arrived at the Consulate, Your Eminence.”
    “Very well.” Hendrix accepted the Battlearm’s