Free Island Shifters: Book 01 - An Oath of the Blood by Valerie Zambito Page B

“I am curious as to why the magic users of old are called Mages instead of shifters? I do not know of anybody in Pyraan that is referred to as Mage.”
    “Good question,” came the reply from over the top of them. Beck started at the figure of Commander Dismore standing above them.
    “It is?” asked Rogan.
    “Yes,” said Dismore. “I usually get this question a little later in the tour,” he said, lowering his considerable mass into a squat. “The simple answer is that a Mage is a practitioner of sorcery. As shifters, we are able to exploit the four metamagics, but we do not have any spell casting abilities.”
    “What of the other elemental magics of air and water?” asked Beck.
    “Nonexistent,” was Dismore’s reply.
    “Is it something that we can learn?” asked Rogan.
    Dismore shook his head. “With only one Mage left in the land, and in seclusion no less, it is highly doubtful that we ever will.” The Commander put his hands on his thighs to leverage himself off the ground, and then removed a handkerchief from his back trouser pocket and wiped it across his brow. Even at the late hour, the air was still thick with humidity. “Get some sleep, men. We leave at sunrise.” Dismore started to walk away and then abruptly turned around. “By the way, Radek and Falewir, you get first watch. Good evening, gentlemen.”
    Beck laughed to himself as Rogan and Airron groaned and then got to their feet and slipped soundlessly into the darkness. He thought it would be impossible to fall asleep with his thoughts churning so, but in what felt like no time at all, he was roused out of his blankets at dawn.
    Breath misting in front of his face as he hurried to pack his gear, he had to periodically tuck his hands under his armpits to keep them warm. Thankfully, the bitter cold would be very short lived. In a few short hours, it would be blistering heat to deal with.
    Once mounted and in formation, Beck pulled up the hood of his shoulder mantle to keep off the light rain he had known since yesterday would come.
    He spent the uneventful ride admiring the scenery, the colors in the basin leading up to the pass consisting of every hue Beck had ever seen in his life, and then some he had not. There were bright yellow butterbells, turquoise sealillies, and a scarlet colored flower his mother loved, but the name of which he could not recall.
    He wished Kiernan were here to see it.
    Up ahead, a movement caught his eye and he was surprised to see an enormous Meeko lizard sunning itself on a boulder just off the path. The largest lizard on the island, it was extremely powerful and agile, and a single bite could prove fatal to a human due to the bacteria contained in its saliva. He was about to point it out to Airron when a hooded legionnaire passed by him. At first, he thought it was Rory due to his small size, but realized it could not be him as Beck could clearly hear the fireshifter laughing and conversing behind him. There was something very familiar about the way the legionnaire rode, and Beck was just about to ride up next to him when Airron said, “Did you see the Meeko over there, Beck?”
    Beck looked at Airron’s perpetually smiling face. “Yes. Huge, isn’t it?”
    “Yeah,” Airron confirmed. “I already have a Meeko form.”
    Not surprised, Beck nodded and turned back to look for the familiar legionnaire, but he had already disappeared into the knot of soldiers. And, just as soon, he forgot about the rider.
    The Legion made decent time arriving at the base of the mountains just before sunset. The routine was established now for setting up camp and each man knew his part and went about it quietly with little conversation, tired from traveling and anxious for sleep.
    With the evening meal finished, Beck spent a few moments caring for Chasin at the picket line and then gathered his bedroll from the back of the saddle and returned to camp. The legionnaires were quiet and swaying tiredly before the mesmerizing dance