Shadows of the Keeper (2 page)

“You will not
set torch to me, swine.  I take my leave.  Allow me to go in
peace.  This is your only warning.”

“You have
brought down the wrath of Danu!  You dare mock her with your
magicks.  Now, we are hunted by Shadow.  Death of our brethren is on
your head, witch.  We will stand by no longer!”

“Pray to your
pathetic gods that
Pendaran’s
wrath does not mete out your own
burning!”  She readied, several guardsmen unsheathing their own swords as
they fanned out.

Bloodcurdling
screams erupted from nearby.  Wild-eyed villagers scattered.

Three swift
thuds hit Aurelia’s back.  She arched.  Air whooshed from her just as
Innya’s horn wailed over them from the turrets.

Hundreds of
black and gold arrows  whisper-soared from the forest.  A shaft
skimmed Aurelia’s thigh, leaving a fiery ribbon of blood in its wake. 
Arrows hazardously swept down from defending archers, a frantic volley to
defend Broc’s keep.  Arrow slits echoed with male screams, the enemy
deadly accurate with their crossbows.  Chorusing shrieks razed across snow
covered fields, and weaved throughout Brwenwind Forest where those trying to
flee instead met their hidden enemy.

Ominous as a
moonless night, Lumynari unfurled from the winter-dark forest.  Their gait
steady, blazing amber eyes targeted those whom their scythes, arrows and maces
would next claim.  Ghouls, from previously decimated villages, fanned out
and cut down those once considered brethren.  No remorse; no
recognition.  Face submerged in snow, his life waning from a mortal wound,
a hapless victim was fallen upon by an armor-clad priestess, her bloodied
talons yanking the howling soul from his skull.  Twisting, screeching,
battling against its captor, the deformed specter abruptly complied to the evil
curse and obediently snatched up a discarded sword, though his final scream was
forever fixated as he joined the ranks of the damned.  Soul-harvesting
priestess followed, seeking her next prey.

Aurelia
swayed.  They’d found her.  Pendaran’s confidence that Shadow’s
minions would never discover the Keeper’s exile from Quemori was now Broc’s
nightmare. Aurelia was left with no recourse but to face honoring her long ago
oath sworn to Xyn.  The Elder’s power was to never fall into Shadow’s
possession.

“Power granted
long ago, I beg release from evil foe.  Slay by hand or bleed by rage,
take me now to my eternal grave.”

No tears
fell.  There remained nothing of her life to mourn.  Elvin sword
slipped from limp fingers.  Breath rasped, her immortal spirit slipping
into the mortal sphere of pain and death.  Suddenly, wounds in her back
seared.  The pain brought her to her knees.

How do the
wounded handle such agony
?  She felt power diminishing from her as if her
tunic slipped from her shoulders.

A Lumynari’s
erratic behavior distracted her.  He shoved potential victims from his
path and stormed across slain bodies, his eyes fixated.

 
A
Shadow Master foregoing maiming and slaying
?  Aurelia followed his
glare and gasped, hollering out when arrows in her back shifted.  She
shook her head, forcing down unconsciousness.

Have to . .
. help . . . Maeve
.

Shadow Master
fast descended.  The old woman cradled Aedan’s head, her other hand
blindly clutching the bloodied tunic of his mortal foster-father.  Fey
powers would not help her husband this day, nor see her through the enemy
fervently bearing down on them.  Staggering to her feet, Aurelia grimaced
with pain.  There existed only one fear to the deadly Lumynari.  The
Fey.  Killing one would be a coup long prized by the Shadow Master. 
Wounded, grieving the death of her husband while begging for powers-that-be to
save her only son, Maeve was too anguished to shield herself.

Fury galvanized
Aurelia.

Maeve had been
one of the few offering kindness in this harsh world of Broc’s forest. 
Reclaiming the hilt of her discarded sword, Aurelia stumbled and called upon
weakening magic for strength; for reprieve against searing pain every labored
breath knifed through her.  Ancient power forced her numb legs forward,
but it was not enough to fully wield her sword in time.

The merciless
warrior skewered Aurelia’s abdomen in place of the auld woman’s skull. 
The Lumynari’s laughter abruptly curdled as a blade forged by the High Elves
plunged into his throat—Aurelia’s final crusade.  His body dropped, eyes
bulging.

Her life’s
blood rivered downward, saturating her beautiful white leggings, quenching the
thirsty, churned snow.  Collapsing, she found herself staring into cold
black eyes piercing her from afar.  Na’Dryn’s lifeless body lay
heaped.  And over the still-warm-corpse, Broc himself, sliding his sword
from a very dead Lumynari.

Talons raked
Aurelia’s skull, yanking her upward until her booted toes skimmed the bloody
snow.  And from across the way, Broc’s contemptuous smirk stung more
profoundly than she thought possible.  Hissing snakes made her wince and
cower.  It was a guttural voice, not venomous creatures.

“At last I find
you!”  Viciously, Aurelia was spun to face her nemesis.  The depraved
face thrust closer.  “Remember me?”

“Aunsgar’s
traitorous . . . twin.”

Another violent
shake.  “My name!”

“I will not . .
. empower you.”  Aurelia tried averting her face, stench of Ardra’s
evilness nearly making her gag as the witch bragged and threatened.

“My goddess
Shadow will be elated when I gift her with the much sought after Keeper. 
Worshipped, my own temple will be erected, my power enhanced—“

“She is not
yours to offer,” a cold deep voice resonated from behind.

Aurelia’s
throat closed.  If a thousand winters passed, she would never forget the
rich timbre of that male voice.  It haunted her dreams and echoed in her
mind throughout the day.  Ardra’s bravado faltered.  Aurelia noted
the witch’s eyes glazing before arrogance quickly returned.

Ardra shook
Aurelia’s head as if freeing a quilt of nettles.  “She belongs to me!”

The exiled
princess screamed, pain searing her back, the protruding shafts shuddering from
the witch Elf’s abuse.  Dezenial’s growl vibrated the ground.  His
strong hand clamped Aurelia’s shoulder, and pushed her to her knees. 
Ardra’s hair-raising scream cut short, as did the din of surrounding
battle.  Aurelia’s ears throbbed in the sudden tomb silence.  She
dared peek over her shoulder. 

Ardra twitched
before stilling, a javelin protruding from her ruined face.

“I will release
your pain, Keer’dra,” the voice haunting her dreams assured before lapsing into
a garbled incantation.  Instantly, pain subsided, shallow breaths now
tolerable.  She flinched when broken shafts thudded in the snow next to
her.  He swept her, weightless, into his arms, then sank to his knees,
cradling her on his lap.

“Dezenial.” 
Tears flooded her fading amber eyes.  “Impossible.  A dream.”

“No,
Keer’dra.  I have searched far and wide, seeking you.”  His hand
gently compressed the saturated wound of her abdomen.  “Alas, only during
your slumber was I granted ability to see and touch you.  I have remained
hidden, fearing Pendaran would see me in your mind.”  Dezenial muttered
incantations before leaning to kiss her brow.  “I cannot stop this, little
one.”  Grief marred his sculpted features as he pulled back, luminous
white hair cascading far past his broad shoulders.  His amazing eyes fell
to the amulet bobbing against her throat’s weakening pulse.  “So, this is
why I fail to see you until you slip into the nether regions of slumber.” 
His eyes ignited into red flames as he tore the hated amulet from her
neck.  Instantly, their thoughts commingled. 

“Pendaran,”
Aurelia coughed blood.  “His power . . . strong.”  The high druid had
insisted she wear the strange metal when she had been a child of four
summers.  Thoughts melding with Dezenial’s, she now understood why. 
It was to remain forever hidden from the Lumynari warrior—her true mate through
several lifetimes.  This time, the Elders had taken precautions.

The Shadow
Master nodded.  “It is only a short time ago, Keer’dra, your whereabouts
were revealed.  Ardra paid with her life for this day . . . as will her
grandson, Drakar.”  The battle in Balkore had been a tactical delay,
costing Dezenial dearly.

He shook his
head, openly grieving.  “Just as before, Xyn has kept you from me.” 
He rocked her, lovingly gazing down into her amber eyes, marveling how much she
resembled who she had been eleven hundred years earlier.  Had her precious
Elders trusted him, she would not be dying in his arms—again.  Azure eyes
darkened.  This time, their grievous decision would reap a higher
consequence.  “My father, Hades, will protect your soul from Xyn and
Pendaran’s manipulations.  Do you accept?”  His canines lengthened
over a sensual mouth she very much wished to kiss before dying.

Strong and
growing louder, chanting penetrated her fading senses.  Joined male voices
gained power, the ritual melodious.  “At long last, the Elders
arrive.  Do you hear them?”

“Yes,” Dezenial
growled.

“How . . .
could you attack us?  Humans . . . no match against . . . Lumynari.” 
Her lids shuttered.

“Keer’dra, I
hardly need a legion to eradicate mortals.”  His hand cupped her
face.  “My mother seeks your power in order to remain in the realm of
light.”

“To
annihilate.”

“That too,” he
grinned before grief once again marred his beautifully sculpted face.

“Lord Dezenial,
we must leave,” urged his Lumynari companion.

“I will hold
her until they arrive.”

“They will kill
you without hesitation,” Inzyr hissed.

“No.  They
fear my power.  Stay your temper, assassin.  We will not suffer their
presence long.”

Tranquility
enveloped Aurelia.  Close above, air shimmered.  Her sire’s spirit
held out his iridescent hand.  “I have grieved your passing,” she
whispered, weakly raising her own hand to accept the unspoken promise found
within his grasp.

Dezenial sensed
the hovering spirit, yet remained blind to its presence.  Unless he swayed
to his father’s calling, the sight of Otherworld was not his to use. 
“Keer’dra, Xyn will use you again, should your soul return.  I will not
allow him the cruelty, not to you.  Rest forever, little one, my father’s
realm impenetrable.”

“They . . .
will need me.”

“They will
forsake you as they have done before—as they do now!”

“They never
came for me, nor did Pendaran return.  I obeyed, never using their power
entrusted . . . to me.”

“You are a
gatekeeper, a pawn, Keer’dra.  They allowed you to be killed before. 
Why does their betrayal surprise you yet again?”

“Send me to
your father, that Xyn may never call upon me to be the Keeper.”

Ignoring the
shout uttered by the hovering spirit, Dezenial sank his fangs deeply into
Aurelia’s neck, taking her soul.  As her colorless hand slipped into the
snow, so too did the flicker of light in the black heart of the lethal god
holding her.  Head thrown back, Dezenial’s bereft howl cast day into
night; Hades’ golden chariot the singular light for many long moments before
Apollo dared peek again, returning to mortals, their precious sunlight.

A smile teased
her blue lips.  A smile the Outlander had not placed on her mouth in a
very long time.  Pendaran sighed deeply, feeling his age, though his face
belied the numerous millennia he had walked this earth.  Had he not warned
his father they were making a grievous error entrusting the Forest Lords with
her care—again?  “Otherworld is where she resides now, Outlander. 
Perhaps this time, Hades will refrain from releasing her,” Pendaran said,
lifting Aurelia’s lifeless body.

“Hades?” 
Broc shouted in reckless anger.  Eerie Elvish chanting silenced. 
“And what of mi’ own people?  Is the life of one woman your only concern
for grief?”  The Forest Lord ignored sparks in the druid’s onyx
eyes.  He and his men had been rendered motionless, forced to observe as
the Lumynari swine dropped his mouth against Aurelia’s neck.  “That
murdering Lumynari drank from her!”

“No, he took
her soul.  They are entwined.  Always have been; always will
be.  It remains far beyond me to interfere, once Dezenial has found
her.  Each time, my father thinks to hide her and each time, your kind
cause her death.  Should she return ever again, I will be powerless to
keep them separated.  Theirs is a path meant to entwine.”

“Returns? 
You surpass madness.  None return from death.”  The gore that had
once been Aurelia’s smooth stomach riveted the Forest Lord.  “Not even
your magicks, druid, will bring her back.”

“Think you this
be the first time your kind has caused her brutal death?”  Pendaran
advanced, his burden cradled in his arms as Broc’s grip tightened around the
hilt of his blood-dripping sword.  The druid’s long black hair manifesting
into crackling dark flame did little to disquiet Broc’s rage.

“Do you know
what they would have done to her, had Prince Dezenial not arrived and killed
Ardra?  If Aurelia herself had not called upon death—
soul
death,
Outlander, not just the customary death of the body!”

“Since when do
those heathens protect any?  He drank her blood!  Proof he is nothing
more than savage, yet you dare honor his wishes, praise his prowess?” 
Livid, Broc squeezed his hilt, itching to slay.  “Has the surrounding
stench o’ death fallen short of wafting to yer’ nose?”  Broc hissed from
clenched teeth.  “Perhaps it is but mi’ mind’s trickery, sobbing I hear
from those grieving the slaughter of loved ones.  Blood rivers under yer’
boots—“

Broc’s sword
swung.  Pendaran’s magic countered with lethal speed.  The Outlander
catapulted several feet from the druid.  Elves prepared for attack from
defending Forest Lords, though none dared rush to their chieftain’s aid. 
Only a fool dared confront Pendaran.