Shadows of the Keeper (29 page)

“If she dies, pray to my mother I
die with her.”  Dezenial scrutinized her heel.  Two pinpricks of red
were barely visible. 

“Lumynari blood, she has.  Too
small, my bite, suffer she will not.”

Lumynari blood.

She had more of it than any of them
realized. 

As he watched, flesh pulled
together, regenerated new tissue, Emily’s back rapidly healing.  No longer
would he possess arrogant freedom to pretend indifference to his
heritage.  He’d had two paths to choose from.  He had opted
to call upon power bestowed only to Hades, Zeus, and Poseidon.  Three
brothers.  His mother’s wrath would be legendary; beyond anything her
realm of Lumynari had ever witnessed.

Dezenial forced his attention back
to the woman now slumbering by influence of toxins.  A mere mortal would
be rendered insane with his blood now coursing in their veins.

Emily’s consequences would be far
more severe.

He wondered if she would prefer
loss of mind versus results of what he’d just done to them both. 

“Linger too long here, we
have.  Our escape must resume.”

Dezenial grunted in
agreement. 

His blood now flowed through
her.  There would be no returning to her silly world in Texas. 

He had just merged their souls
beyond the realms of the living.

“There exists a whisper of magic I
have not felt since . . .”  Aunsgar’s lithe form leapt from the barebacked
mount, eyes scanning snow-covered terrain.  Blindly, his hand stayed the
nervous mare, more companion than service animal.  Broc’s horse snorted
and pawed at the snow.  “The steeds sense it as well.”  Keen eyes darted,
scanning the horizon to their backs, then to their east.  For a time, he
stared into the panorama of weather surrounding them, his head tilted,
listening.  Stoic, only his long white hair moved, fluttering in the
chilly breeze.

“I would have you tell me, no
matter how grave,” Broc stated, looking down from his nervous mount. 

Aunsgar riveted his attention
beyond the laird.

The MacLarrin didn’t need to follow
the Elf’s gaze.  “Who is it you have invited to journey with us, this
perilous quest?  And why have they dropped from their mounts, hunkering
into a tight circle?”  He leaned over the pommel, his voice
plunging.  “Their chanting spooks mi’ men.  What gods do they pray
to, that such a racket is required?”

“Need you ask, my friend?”

Collectively, Forest Lords turned
in their saddles.  Openly, they scrutinized.  Dawning rippled. 
Quickly, every immortal dismounted and dropped to one knee, head bowed. 
Not sure what was transpiring, their mortal companions followed suit.  If
an immortal leapt from horse
and
bowed, not caring if he sank half a
foot into the snow, best to forfeit sanity and imitate without question.

The Elders observed, their
billowing hair black as crow’s wings.  Their intense stare tapped each
man’s soul.  Aedan gulped loudly, earning Reignsfeugh’s elbow into his
ribs.  “Silence, laddie.”

“Ye’ doona understand.”

“I understand yer’ about ta’ ‘ave
us turned into vulture fodder.”  The Celt dared a cursory glance at the
ancients he himself had heard about during his sister’s fireside stories. 
Myths to hand down to his own bairns.  He’d never imagined he himself was
to become myth. 

“I teased one o’ them ta’ be too
auld, but admired his bravery.”

“Och.  Ye’ fecker! We’re done
fer.”  Reignsfeugh dropped his head deeper, muttering prayers to every
entity he’d learned about in the three-thousand plus years he’d roamed this
wild terrain, though now tame by far in comparison to when Vik—“

“Son of Lady Larrin.”  The
Elders nodded their heads in unison.  “Rise.  We are all much too old
to be on our knees, especially in this cold.”  Amusement tinged their
tone.

“Thought it ‘twas his da that was
the Larrin?”

Garreck leaned closer to
Henry.  “Didn’t I warn ye’ when ye’ were knee high, take yer studies more
seriously?”  He laughed at the man’s glare.  “Picts or Forest Lords
inherit the tribes from the mother, though that one,” he nudged his chin
towards Broc, “would have taken it, regardless.”

The subject of their discussion
stood and swept snow from his knees.  Aunsgar glided past, making his way
towards the old men.  “I will have you tell me what it is ye’ sense,” Broc
called after the Elf.

Aunsgar halted.  Indiscernible
nods from the Elders, and the Elf turned to face the laird.  “Emily.”

The Elders resumed their
chanting.  Horses whinnied, backing away, their large glassy eyes rolling
with fright.  Swiftly, men grappled bridles, cooing nonsensical words,
hoping to calm the beasts lest they rear.  Flaying hooves would be deadly
in this knot of men.  Chanting escalated to a keening wail, Elders’ voices
harmonizing.

Broc’s soul chilled.

He’d heard this before.  The
night Emily healed Aedan.  And when Aurelia passed.  The laird
charged until he caught up with Aunsgar.  Grappling the royal’s arm, his
glare warned Urkani not to follow through with freeing his now clasped
hilt.  “I will have you tell me what is happening!  ‘Tis the same
sounds filling the forest long ago when Aurelia and my people were slaughtered!”

Austere Elf turned saddened eyes
upon Broc.  The Forest Lord released his hold, fearing heartache would
infect him as well.  It was not to be.  The MacLarrin’s heart
seized.  He knew.  Oh, how he knew!

“Emily passes,” Aunsgar whispered.

Wild-eyed, Broc searched the
terrain.  Nothing.  No movement, no oddity, nothing but forsaken
white stretching the land taut.  “Torture?”  He would make it his
life’s vow to hunt every Lumynari and slaughter them.

“She travels beneath us.  Not
of her own accord . . . “ Aunsgar peered down at the ground where several
horses stood.  His head snapped around, wildly scanning.  Broc
observed, as if, through the Elf, he would somehow see Emily moving beneath
where they stood.  Aunsgar’s head fell back, eyes closed tightly.

“They’ve stopped chanting.  We
are too late.”

Aunsgar did not answer.  He
glided away, walking unhampered through deep snow to join the Elders. 
Broc didn’t bother pursuing him.  Maybe it was best not hearing any sort
of a confirmation.

Emily was dead.  Had their
chant succeeded in purging her soul from the Lumynari?  Broc slipped to
his knees.  He was too late—again.  The horizon yielded no answers;
no condolences.  How long before Pendaran bore down on them, a new
punishment?  What curse would he bestow this time?  Emily.  He
closed his eyes, shutting out pristine white countryside.  White meant
good.  Holy.  Untouched.  Sacred.  There was nothing pure
about his life.  He had failed a warrior princess.  He had failed a
silly innocent woman asking for nothing more than his acceptance of who she was
in
this
life.  And to be returned to her home.  Instead, he’d
given her contempt, and railed against her quick laughter.

He wept.

He’d greeted a breath of sunshine
with blackened storms.  And now, she suffered beyond anything she could
have imagined.  Snow dusted his thigh.  A hand rested upon his
shoulder.  He shrugged it off.  Pity was not something he deserved,
nor sought.

“I have news.”

Broc remained unseeing; uncaring if
his ally witnessed his open grief.  “Speak.”

Aunsgar dropped down.  Broc
felt himself being scrutinized. Much time passed before the prince finally
acquiesced the laird’s command.  “Emily lives.”

Broc nodded.  Spans of silence
passed between them before the Forest Lord trusted himself to speak.  “You
are not telling me this with a smile of ease and relief.  There is
more.”  His gaze drifted to Aunsgar and studied him for a time.  He
then swept his attention to the Elders.  They laughed amongst themselves
as if this were nothing more than an amusing excursion.  He didn’t like
them thirty-six hundred years ago; he detested them now.

“Legend weaves tales their power is
to rival ancient gods.”

Broc’s lip curled.  “Are you
attempting to dissuade me from taking mi’ sword and bleeding them?”

“They have seen her.”

“They helped her pass to
Otherworld?”

“Nay, friend.”  Aunsgar sighed
heavily.  “She lives; however, she is . . . she is weak.”  The Elf
stood and quickly moved away.  Too quickly, Broc noted.  More like,
escaping
.

  There was more.  A
bad
more.

Emily lived.  Yet, Aunsgar did
not celebrate.  Broc resumed looking at an empty horizon and the colorless
sky.  Long ago, he’d learned Aunsgar would part with nothing more than
what he felt the moment warranted.  The Elf would tell him the more of it
in his own good time.  For now, Emily lived.  It was enough.  He
looked over his shoulder at the Elders.  Their magicks had bartered his
men more time to rescue the lass.  Maybe they still had a chance, after
all, to save her.

*   *   *   *   *

She screamed awake.

Fearsome sentinels posted at each
corner of the huge bed remained impervious.  Equipped with spears, the
blades exaggerated in size, one grunted to a vicious looking sentry barring the
door.  Quickly, Emily tucked blankets around her nakedness, and did her
best to maintain a semblance of modesty while scuttling to a sitting
position.  It was easier thought out than actually carried out. 

Where the hell am I now
?
Every stinkin’ time I wake up, I’m in a new adventure-nightmare.  And
naked!  Only thing missing is a narration by Rod Serling.

Recollection zipped memories of
being dragged, carried—whatever—through claustrophobic tunnels by—
think here
for a minute
—
Spinners
!  Dezenial’s voice had been her
light.  Almost,
almost
she won the battle against sweeping grief. 
Desolate.  Her head dropped into her hand, sobbing, shoulders
quaking.  She slid down and gave in to anguish.  She’d known him mere
seconds, it seemed, but in that moment of time, she’d experienced an inner
radiance.  Just a tiny sampling of what
wonderful
felt like. 
She wanted more; she wanted to die, versus never seeing or hearing him
again.  Memories of his growling in her head made her laugh and cry. 
Her heart had sung.  Her toes had curled.  Was it love?  Was
that what the elusive emotion felt like?  An admirable male, strong,
dominating . . .
God help me, I’ve fallen in love
.

And now, he’s dead. 
Killed.  To save me
.

Emily buried her face into the
thick pillow and wailed.

He was dead.  And she was
here, naked.  She pulled back.  And saw her surroundings for the
first time.  Masculine bedroom.  What the hell? 
Oh my God,
they’ve delivered me to Drakar!
  Freaked, she rolled onto her
back.  Drakar’s bed?  She lurched back up into a sitting
position.  Amber eyes pooled.  What, at the end of the day, did it
really matter?  Dezenial was dead.  Maybe she could infuriate Drakar
to the point he’d kill her too. 

Footfalls echoed outside the
chamber.  Emily gulped.  Whomever it was, they were moving
quickly.  Muted foreign words were hissed from the other side of the
door.  Her one solid barrier against the bastard.  The sentry quickly
turned and threw open her last barricade. 
Here we go
.
  Now
or never.
Emily scanned for anything usable as weapon. 
How fast
can I snatch a spear and skewer the prick, catching him off guard?

“Nowhere near quick enough to avoid
the other three amputating your arms before you’ve taken one step while the one
you dared relieve of his weapon would be twisting off your head.”

“Dez?”

Her pet name.  Inwardly, he
smiled.  “It is good I will not have to dismember the creatures saving
us.  You have slept many days.”

Another hallucination?  She was
dreaming.  Had to be.  Because, if
this
was hell, float
her in Styx.  She stared at his black suede leggings, obviously the lick
and stick kind that left nothing of his form to the imagination. 
Nothing
. 
Her eyes feasted as if forever starved of such a fine specimen.  Boots
rose mid-thigh making her wish like hell that she could be leather for just one
minute.  Billowing black shirt hung open, exposing very sculpted
made-for-sex chest. 
Good Lord, he looks like he just stepped from a
pirate ship!  Screw floating down Styx, chain my ass to the bunk in yer’
cabin.  Ahoy, matey!

His brow arched, azure eyes
glittering.  He ached that she’d cried needlessly; he soared she’d cried
over him.

Oh, you so can be the
strawberries on my cheesecake
.  Her tongue darted out and quickly
licked her bottom lip.

Dezenial laughed outright. 
Only his Emily would think outrageous thoughts about a killer Lumynari. 
Strawberries indeed!

“What the hell makes you so
happy?  How dare you burst in here as if nothing’s amiss, yet I’m
surrounded by . . . by the deadliest looking Lumynari I’ve ever seen!”

“You’ve seen your share?”

Emily scowled.

“You live.  What else would
have one smile here in this city under your Forest Lords’ barbaric
country?”  Dezenial muttered something in his watery language.  The
Halloween monsters vacated their posts and filed out through fluttering
curtains she’d yet to notice.  A terrace, or so she briefly spied before
curtains fell back into place. 
Were those tall buildings carved from
granite?

“I’m naked, Dezenial.”

“I’m aware your state of undress.”

Emily snorted.  “Hope you got
an eyeful.  It’ll be your last.  I can’t feel any pain. 
Magic?  How long will it last?  Do you have Motrin down here?” 
She craned her neck, trying to see beyond the curtains.  She glanced to
see what he was doing, then stopped and stared.  An expression had crossed
his face, so fleeting, she’d wondered if she’d seen it at all.

“You’re healed.”

“You said I’ve been here,
days.”  Her frown deepened to match her confusion.  “No way can I
possibly be healed that quickly.  You were sliced across your
stomach.”  Her brows shot up.  “There’s not even a mark on you.”

“Hours.”

“Hours?”

“How long it took for your wounds
to completely regenerate. And then days that you have lain in my bed.”

“
Your
bed?

“You would prefer someone else’s?”

“You would prefer I punch
you?”  She smiled sweetly.

“These will be your chambers.”

“As in, I’m staying?  Where
will
you
be sleeping?”

He leveled a look at her. 
“You have somewhere else you’d rather be?”

“Home would be nice.”

“Ah, but would you be more safe
than here, in my care?”

“I’ve insulted you. 
Sorry.  I wish to return to my home.”  Quickly, she waved her hand to
deflect the possibility he’d misunderstood her meaning.  “Not home with
Broc and his clan.  I want to return to the states.  Where are
we?  There’s no way a city exists underground and has remained
undiscovered.”