Shadows of the Keeper (24 page)

Emily chuckled.  “They’ve
figured out the twigs in my hair came from the hidden garden where I found
you.  Shit. Get a move on, Blade. We’ve run out of time.”

Blade surged, rounded a bend and
dove into a dark, chilly alcove.  Again, there were stairs, this time
ascending.  Emily groaned.  All the cardiovascular exercise she’d
procrastinated against in the past year would be completed in a single
day.  “Blade, I can’t see.”

“I told you to trust me.  If
you would but close your eyes, you would no longer need your feet.”

“I can’t fly, fool.”

“I can carry you.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Kidding?  Ah, to jest. 
No, milady, I do not jest in a time of running and hiding.”

“I run because of the pace you have
set.”

“But, of course.”

“What’s that noise?”  Emily
released Blade and grabbed her knees where she bent over, mouth hanging
open.  Air.

“You pant like banthooins climbing
Mt. Grwenwood to hide from the hunt.  Perchance that is what fills your
hearing?”

“What did you just compare me to?”

“You are out of practice.”

Emily swiped her forehead. 
“Are any of them following yet?”

“The Outlanders have entered the
tunnels. Broc glowers.  He is no fool.  He feels your presence.”

“Why do you keep calling him an
Outlander?”

“They were savages, once upon a
time.”

“Well, they’re Forest Lords now,
or, Picts, if you listen to our idiot historians.”  Doubled-over, gasping
for air, Emily straightened and leaned against the rough wall.  She looked
down, the way they’d come.  An abyss.

“Carrying you, we will make better
time.”

Emily waved her hand.  “Sure .
. . whatever you say.”  She clutched his hilt and closed her eyes. 
Immediately weightless, she was pulled upward, floating.  It was like
being in a dream.  Somehow, Blade pulled her forward at whizzing speeds,
never crashing her into walls, nor lowering her enough that her boots scuffed
stairs.  She could feel the stairwell curving, and still they surged
forward.  What the hell had Broc been thinking when he’d built this
castle?  All these tunnels.  Hideouts?

They stopped.  Gently, she was
lowered to her feet.  He illuminated very softly, allowing her
light.  “Where are we?”

“Several paces from a door. 
It will take some maneuvering, but you will be able to get it open.”

“A sword dying to get into a
room.  Who knew?”

“You will be grateful of my
capacity to have instincts and to be able to act upon them.”

“Yes, such as breaking and
entering.  Awesome, Blade.”

“Let us get inside.  The
furred one has joined the search.”

“Search?”

“What humans do when they misplace
something.”

“I’m hardly lost.”  Emily
stopped herself from stomping towards the iron door. 
No need to have
Blade’s ego swell by making it obvious he’s annoying.
  “Think they’ll
really find us, way up here?”  Cold air skittered towards her, whispering
a foulness she could both smell and taste.

“What
is
that?”

Blade swiveled around.  “I
sense nothing other than those filling these peculiar tunnels.  Never have
I been in a castle that boasts such architecture.  Even here, in this room
there will be another door leading to another tunnel.”

“Bad vibes, Blade.  Something
doesn’t feel right.  I’m learning the hard way to listen to the little
voices in my head.”

“What do they tell you, these
voices
?”

“Well, first they mention my having
conversations with a sword are a sure sign I’ve lost my frickin’ mind. 
And secondly, that something other than Broc hunts for me.”

Several moments passed in
silence.  “We are alone.”

“Maybe it’s ghosts.”

“I would sense them,” Blade stated.

“Really?”

“I far exceed your human
abilities.”

“I can see why they put you in a
box.”

A ringed knocker with an iron plate
imitated a doorknob.  Opening jerkily, Emily gave several brutal shoves
before it groaned open enough for the two of them to slip inside.  “I
don’t like the dark, Blade.” She waved the air in front of her.  “Nor the
stench of closed-forever rooms.  This mustiness is making my nose hairs
curl.”

Blade’s light bloomed. 
“Hurry, milady, and close the door and then I will shine brighter for you to
see by.”

It required the same jerking
motions to close the old door.  A wooden beam stood ready to drop across
it, keeping intruders out.  What exactly had this room been? 
Grunting, lifting it and eyeing Blade for his lack of help, she succeeding in
dropping the heavy beam into the grasp of two protruding iron hooks. 
Pushing down, it seemed the aged iron would hold, though the rotted beam might
prove a failure.  Task complete, she turned to examine her new
surroundings. Round tower room.  Not much larger than her bedroom back
home.  Home.  Twinges of melancholy extinguished her rage and left
her deeply saddened.  That duplex seemed so stinkin’ far away as if to no
longer exist.  If she hadn’t had the foresight to always pay six months in
advance . . . her belongings would, by now, be out in the street.  Still,
she was positive she’d return to no utilities, everything shut off due to her
not being around to make payments.  HOA fees were paid in advance, gah,
her refrigerator would be filled with rotten—

“You must find the amulet, then we
will continue this suicide mission of yours.”

“Your support is daunting. 
What amulet?”

“In the trunk, milady.  Open
the trunk.”

Emily turned in a slow
circle.  Dozens of various sized trunks lay askew.  “Which one?”

“You decide.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“I will wait.”

“You missed my point.”

“Feel, Lady Emily.  You use
your eyes too much.  What if you lacked sight?  Lumynari are
notorious for burning out their prisoners’ eyes.”

“What the bloody hell do Lumynari
have to do with this?”

“You will battle them.”

She almost plopped down, right
there, on the God-only-knew-what-covered-the-filthy-floor.  “How do you
know this?”  Her voice sounded tiny, even to her own ears.

Blade’s tone gentled.  “As I
could sense your return and your presence, do you not think those having hunted
you for centuries will also know you’ve returned?”

“Well, shit.  Looks like
Butthead Broc might have been on to something.”

“They fear revealing too much will
overwhelm you.  In this, they have failed you more than you can
realize.  You should have been fully trained.  Instead, they’ve
succeeded in leaving you as helpless as a newborn bairn.”

“In all fairness, Blade, I wouldn’t
have believed a word of it, not at first.  I’m still trying to wrap my
head around the fact that I’m conversing with a sword.”

“The trunk, milady?”

Nervously, she ran her hands
through her hair.  “Okay. How am I supposed to figure out which of these
has this bauble you want?”

Silence.

Exasperated, Emily closed her eyes
and held out her hands.  “Marco.”

“Marco?”

“A game played when I was
kid.  In the pool.”

“This new world I find myself in is
very complex.”

Emily’s brilliant amber eyes
snapped open, glowing, though she didn’t realize such an occurrence
transpired.  “Maybe I could just wave my hand and set them all on fire.”

“With us locked in here?  And
so many wooden trunks?  I think this is a well thought out plan. 
Execute it immediately.”

“You better pray to your precious
elder that I don’t suddenly remember incantations that will free you from that
sword.”

“I am utterly apprehensive of what
you will do to my person.”

Emily stormed the sword, snatched
its hilt and squeezed hard, throttling it back and forth.  Garbled noises
and grunts emitted from the choking weapon. It reminded Emily of how dice
sounded when rattled in a backgammon cup.

She shook Blade harder.

Surge of power encompassed
her.  She vibrated.  “Are you electrocuting . . . me?”

“If you would ease your attempt to
rattle me . . . we are as one, Princess . . . Emily.”

Her vision blurred.  Abruptly,
it cleared.  And heightened.  “It’s as if these walls are
windows.  I can see through them!”  The door they’d jerked open was
actually housed in a small alcove.  It boasted one piece of furniture, a
stone bench.  For a warden?  Because, who would be up here?  And
who would be sitting outside, waiting?  Emily visually ran the gamut of
their interior.  And there, as Blade had said, was a small door she
assumed to be their escape.  They would have to crawl to get through
it.  Beyond, they would still be on all fours, stone ceiling too
low.  One day, she’d have to ask the idiot what he’d been thinking when
designing this place.  Another door was at their destination’s end, quite
a distance, it too not full size.  Squinting, she tried seeing
beyond.  No use.  “Can you see what’s beyond the door we’ll obviously
be crawling towards?”

“No.  And that is most odd.”

“I agree. Why would they make a
door so small?  I don’t see any torches either.  How is it I can see
like this?”

“We-are-as-one,” he drawled with
distinct mockery.

Emily throttled him again. Annoyed,
she released her grip and turned her attention to the trunks he seemed
determined she go through.  Most were empty.  Others contained
papers, odd coins, and rotted fabrics.  Odd that the papers were fine, but
the fabrics were a complete loss.  A particular trunk drew her
interest.  Plain exterior, inside was another tiny box.

“Illuminate a bit brighter.  I
think I found what you’re looking for.”  Dragging the trunk over a rug no
longer really able to make such a claim, she hefted her prize towards the
center of the room and coughed against the dust she raised.  “Why would an
amulet be so important for me to find?”

“Trust that I only serve to take
care of you.”

She shrugged to hide her
confusion.  “Broc made the same claim.”

“Did we not just run up a maze of
stairs from the Outlander?”

“I wonder how long before I’m
running from you.”  She waved her hand.  “How are we for visitors?”

They gather in the hidden garden.
Ah,” Blade chuckled.  “Your Forest Lord has discovered my
resurrection.  We should have hidden the box I was laid in.”

“Screw him.”  A tickle of
memory teased the edges of her mind.  She stilled.  Varied shades of
green forest stretched until falling off in the far horizon.  Squeezing
eyes shut, opening them slowly, tilting her head . . . nothing worked.  As
if viewing in the flesh, thickly clustered very green forested land spread down
below from a high bluff she stood upon.  This wasn’t some fantastic
historical romance she’d delved up from the used bookstore she haunted ever payday. 
She could
smell
the rippling meadows,
feel
the cool breeze both
on her skin and sifting through her long hair.  Broc sauntered towards
her, grinning.  Fisted in each hand, rabbits.  Cooking smoke wafted
across her face, blurring her vision a bit.  He kissed her brow—

“My lady?”

Emily flinched. 
“Sorry.”  She knuckle-dried sudden onslaught of tears stinging her
eyes.  “Visions.”  She was witnessing Broc as a youth, his body more
of teenage lithe, not the lived in strength he now possessed.  She and the
Forest Lord had shared something special going all the way back to their
youth.  So, what had happened to make him turn so ugly against her? 
Mental shake.  Against
Aurelia
?

“It is overwhelming for one not
born into the knowledge of what will be.  Aurelia was.  But for you,
difficult choices lay ahead.  In that, you are the more fortunate of the
two.  Choices were not a luxury Aurelia was granted to enjoy.  They
were her destiny.  Her duty.  For you, it is more a matter of a
journey to completion, or turning away and leading an ordinary life in your own
time.”

“You make it sound as if I will let
everyone down, if I so choose to walk away from this madness.  And let’s
clarify something real quick, nothing will ever again be
simple
in my
life.  Not after this experience.”

“You could never let anyone
down.  Should you walk away, this is the course that is meant to be.”

“How lucky you are to remain calm.”

“I assure you, my lady, it is not a
gift.  It was part of my training.  Patience is learned.”

Emily deflated, overwhelmed by the
myriad of emotions. 
Here I am, me, me, me, and this guy gave up normal
life to be imprisoned in a weapon so he could protect Aurelia.  And now,
me. Crazy.  Heroic.

“Remember, I am not a human man,
such as you are acquainted with.”

Emily gasped.  “You read my
mind?”

“We are forged.  It is why
when you grasp my hilt, you see with my ability, just as I see into your mind.”

Emily envisioned holding up her
middle finger.

“Judging my your facial expression,
am I to presume the image in your mind is to mean something most unpleasant?”

“Get out of my head, Blade. 
You might not like what you see.”

“As you command.”

Chills marched across her
flesh.  Fear fluttered.  “You sure we’re alone?”

Blade rotated, his point stopping
several times along the stonewalls.  “I sense nothing.”  He turned
his point towards her.  “But I do sense
you
perceiving something.”

“Maybe just old stones and drafts.”

“If you are comfortable with that
theory, my lady.”

Emily lifted the small chest, no
bigger than her palm, yet remarkably heavy.  Inside was laden with deep
purple fabric like heavy tapestry.  And in perfect condition.  Colors
still vibrant.  Folding back the tiny edges, Emily spied a beautiful
silver chain.  “Looks almost like chainmail.”

“Powerful magic, Lady Emily.”

She glanced her partner in crime
before delicately grasping the chain, pulling it free of its coffin. 
“What the
hell
?”