Shadows of the Keeper (44 page)

“I wish to take you above ground,
Emily, and share your life with you.  I will never allow you to be denied
your sun, your stars, nor the wind in your hair.  I would see things by
light of day, versus this perpetual darkness I have opted to remain in for ten
millennia.”  Proudly, he stalked.  “But, set you free I will, once
you have taken control of your power, living another eternity without you,
before I succumb you to the prison that is our way down here.  For you
will go mad, Keer’dra, and in that madness, I will become your nightmare, your
reason for hatred beyond anything you would be able to control.  And that
is the desire of Drakar . . . of Shadow.  Obliterate your mind with terror
and darkness, then unleash your power against mankind; rejoice in your
madness.  And, sweet Emily, it is why I shunned my father’s desire to join
him.  Who would have protected you?  Who would have known firsthand
plots and deviations my mother has routed in order to find you?”  And
still, he moved closer.  “Having lost you twice, it was preferable to
submerge amongst Lumynari hatred.  Now, you are here.”

“Becoming the Dark Prince, defender
of mortals, brings you much regret?”

“Princess Emily of Quemori, Keeper
of The Elders’ magicks, you will
always
require protection.  We are
bound for eternity. I took my oath with full knowledge it was to remain by your
side
forever
.”

“As guardian?”

“As lover.  Mate,” azure eyes
narrowed.  “Husband.”

“There’s more, isn’t there?  A
very
bad
more.”

“Vaifyr.”

Instead of facing her father, she
closed her eyes.  “Tell me.”

“There exists a goddess denied her
beauty as punishment for atrocities not of her choosing,” Inzyr began, his
voice low and even. “Vipers in place of her hair.”

“Medusa.”

“Lovers fail to exist.  A
woman becomes . . .  lonely, no matter her vileness.”

Emily’s eyes snapped open, cold
laughter escaping.  “Who else would dare approach such rage?  Oh,
wait, I know—it’s a stretch—Lumynari?  I thought she had her head cut
off?”

A terrifying realization washed
away her sarcasm.  “You were her lover?  She really existed? 
Well, stupid question, considering what I reside amongst.  But
lovers?  With Medusa? 
Dad
. 
Dude
.”  Her nose
wrinkled.  “Didn’t the snakes bite?”

“I am her son.” 

Amber eyes locked and held ancient
amber eyes of her sire.  Both hearts pounded.  “That would make me .
. .” breathing labored.

“Immortal.  And don’t ever
call me
dude
.”

Her hands fisted.  “So, if
you’d failed to re-enter my life—“

“Never an option.  I would
have one day come for you, vaifyr, your acceptance or not.”

“Big of you.”  Her attention
swerved to her husband.  “And you?  Shall we spring clean your
closets as well?”  His silence left an array of thoughts converging to
their own findings.  She allowed subconscious musings to surface,
undeniable and dreadful facts linking and locking into place.  Dezenial’s
sudden expression of dread confirmed her realizations.

“You’re not just son of Hades and
Shadow, wings hidden.”  She couldn’t control the spasmodic
trembling.  “And those fangs, you are right, have absolutely nothing to do
with being even close to a vampire.”

He only offered a negative shake of
his head, seemingly content for her to jury her own deductions.

“Son of Hades.  Mythology
teaches he’s the god of Underworld.  I think I even read somewhere it was
the Greeks’ version of Hell.”  Her head lolled back, eyed closing as she
continued.  “That would make you—“

“A Daemon.”

“There was mention of that.” 
Amber eyes snapped open.  “I would see you as you truly are.”

“Nay, you will not.  What you
witnessed, during our wedding, is enough.”

“I’ll be damned—oh, look an
accidental pun—if I’m going to push your children from my womb and not know . .
. you are going to show me your true—“

His arms outstretched.  His
body rose to massive proportions, his flesh becoming thick scales of red,
black, and dark blue ribboned with gold.  Mega sized dragon wings
unfurled, his fingers stretching into deadly talons serving no other purpose
than to shred bone and flesh.  Black fire erupted at his feet, yet burned
nothing.  Ember red replaced his eyes, his hair crackling white flames.

Emily didn’t move.

“Come to me, Keer’dra,” he
commanded in a thunderous voice that promised death.  He blinked. 
Eyes returned to azure, and in them, she saw what none living would ever see,
should they be so unfortunate as to awaken this beast.

He feared her revulsion.

Though her heart had no doubt
ceased pulsating blood through her, she charged towards him.  Ensconced in
his winged embrace, she tried not to dwell on what held her; that lethal talons
combed her hair.  “Keer’dra,” he rasped, “
now
do you understand?”

“That telling you to ‘go to Hell’
is redundant?  Uh huh.  Absolutely. Yep-yep.”

Her father’s laughter eased the
moment.  Dezenial unwrapped his wings from around her.  Her scalp
tightened.  “Dez?!”  Without warning, she clawed him for
balance.  “I can’t see!  Dezenial!”  Wings snapped, enfolding
her again.

“Lean against me.”

“I feel so . . . weird.”  She
shook her head, trying to clear the dips and sways. “I’m standing on a wave.”

She felt herself lifted. 
“Keer’dra?”

Her head lolled.  Dezenial
retracted his wings, hands returning to normal as he placed her gently upon her
father’s couch.  He wedged his booted foot on the other side of her, into
the depths of the cushions.  In a fashion of straddling her, a serrated
blade settled into his open palm.

“You will make it quick.”

“I will not receive joy in what I
must do, but I will not allow her to suffer,” Dezenial stated, his weapon
poised, ready, waiting.  If Aurelia had somehow made good her threat and
Emily awakened insane, she would be beyond dangerous.  She would become
what his mother was.  One goddess wielding such fury, combined with
magicks . . . Emily’s eyes fluttered.  Dezenial was unaware he held his
breath.

“Orut quaten cefar.”  She
grinned.

Dezenial searched her mind. 
He reared, taking his stance from over her with him.  His look of awe
puzzled Inzyr.  A cutlass manifested in the assassin’s hand.

“Do you remain connected with her
mind?”

“Yes.”

“What do you see?”  Inzyr
asked, scrutinizing his daughter.  If she were now an enemy, his couch
would be her deathbed.  She’d said ‘the warrior kills’ in perfect
Balkorian.  He could barely succeed in having her properly repeat
fundamental words.  Emily sat up, swung her legs off the couch.  His
daughter had not been born with the knowledge all Lumynari are born to. 
She did not know their language in the least.

“They move closer, you know. 
They seek to take me, using the priestess at the door as their way in.” 
Emily rubbed her temples.  “Tell him before he thinks to slice and dice
me, forcing me to rip his throat out.”

Inzyr snorted, his weapon
vanishing.  “Only
my
vaifyr would dare such impudence.”

“She has been granted ability of
our language and that of the Mountain Elves.  She has been gifted with
power . . . yet, not quite.  It is . . . odd.”  Dezenial hesitated
but a moment before proud continence resumed.  His stance was both regal
and dominant.  “You will look at me,” he commanded, satisfied with her
quick compliance.  “I will have you tell me.”

“I simply know things now.” 
Her head tilted.  “Does it disturb you that I will understand your
conversations with my father?”

He hunkered down in front of her,
his long white hair shrouding his wide shoulders.  “It is more comfortable
to speak in my language.  It fails to have consequences you assume.” 
He searched her eyes. 

Inzyr sauntered back to his post,
satisfied Emily remained his daughter.  He refused to dwell on the fact
that Aurelia’s spirit had thrown both he and Dezenial around as if they were
nothing more than sticks.

Emily stared back at her husband. 
“What is it you seek, Dezenial? Ah.  I see.”  She caressed the strong
tendons at the back of his neck and pulled him close.  “Perhaps this will
convince you my feelings haven’t changed.”  She licked his sensuous lips
before probing for entrance.  Grabbing fistfuls of her hair, he yanked her
off the couch, allowing her to receive what she requested.  She was the
first to pull away, easing down to stand on her own feet.  “Don’t worry,
Killer, you’re still in command.” A playful shove, delighting in the hesitant
grin she was able to steal from him before his scowl returned. 
“Dez?”  It was
her
turn to search
his
eyes.  “Don’t
leave me, now that I’ve changed, okay?”

“I have told you, Keer’dra, you
belong to me.”

He stepped back and briskly
rejoined her father; to leash emotions he’d never experienced.  And none
too soon.  Drakar’s boldness grew.  The perpetrator’s spies were
passing themselves off as vendors.  Tonight’s arena was about to acquire
more participants.

“She lacks awareness of her power,”
Dezenial whispered.

“It is as before, equating your
own?”

“Yes, but I can conjure mine at
will, her temper ignites hers.”

“Then, at all costs, keep her
humored.”  The assassin laughed outright at his liege’s annoyance.

Emily smiled, hearing both males
chuckling like conspiring little boys.  She assumed another arena
recruiting incident unfolded in the market-square, and being males, it was
likened to a boxing match for them.  They probably had already placed
bets.

She leaned back, sighed loudly, and
missed the visual caress Dezenial gave her.  Sinking into the down-filled
pillows amassed on her dad’s couch, she stole a few minutes to mentally
rest.  What a day!  Too many revelations.  Overload of
knowledge.  Nice, cold glass of white wine—

“Dezenial!”

Suddenly, he was next to her. 
Shakily, she pointed at the frosty glass of wine.  “I was thinking how
thirsty . . . how nice wine . . .”  She started shaking.

“Inzyr, my elite are here to
eradicate the offenders, but for now, your daughter and I return to the
palace.”

“As you say, so it will be done.  I
will enjoy this bloodbath.”

“Yes, I knew you would.  Come to
me, Keer’dra.”

Bounding away from the mocking
goblet that had out-of-nowhere appeared, she crashed into his solidness. 
Encircled in powerful arms, she heard his heartbeat, its cadence soothing
her.  “I’m scared.  This is more . . .” she buried her head into him.

“This is nothing; however, if you
imagine something like an ogre,” he chuckled.  “
Then
we have problems.”

She hit him.

“A great battle is beyond avoidance. 
We must prepare you to be in more control of whatever power you’ve been deigned
to have.  My palace will offer safety.”

“From Drakar?”

“Yes, Keer’dra.”

“Can’t you just turn into that
demon—“

“Daemon.”

“There’s a difference?”

“One protects mortals, the other
rather enjoys feasting on them.”

“Gee, thanks for that. Turn into a
Daemon-thingy and zap him into brimstone.”

Inzyr chortled.

“My mother protects him, though
I’ve a suspicion her
graciousness
is coming to an end.”

“I don’t want to keep looking over
my shoulder.  I don’t want to be part of this battle.”

“The Outlander is part of this as
well.”

“I won’t return to him,
Dezenial.  I will not!  I won’t let you send me away—“ she yanked
from him.  His strength far outweighed her puny attempt.

“It no longer remains a choice for
you to be privileged with.  As I have stated, you belong to me.”  He
held her tight.  “I will kill your Forest Lord, if he thinks to ever again
harm you with words.  For you, for your human side, I grant him this one
reprieve.  I will not play the humanitarian a second time.”  His hand
moved to the back of her head, fisting her hair.  “Tell me.”

“I am yours.”

“No battle?”

“Not very effective, since we’re
both standing here clothed.”

“Ha!” Inzyr snickered.  “My
chambers are no longer graciously given.  Out. Both of you.”  A
cutlass appeared in one hand, a serrated dagger in another.  “A bloodbath
is about to unfold.”  His smile caused Emily’s heart to hiccup.  “And
right outside my door.  I do appreciate the convenience, my liege.”

Dezenial’s mouth twitched with
amusement.  “As always, I aim to please.”

“Is there pain?”

A cursory glance at his captain,
and Broc resumed staring into Elvish fire.  He absorbed none of its warmth,
this blackest of nights.  “Nay.”

“The fire has captivated ye’ for
long hours, brother.”  Garreck settled next to his laird, clutching furs
closer around himself.  “Damn, but it’s cold.  No’ used ta’ long
nights out in the open.  We’ve become coddled, what with our hearths,
roofs, and bedding.”  He watched his breath billow away before speaking
again.  “We assumed after the bonding wi’ Blade, ye’ needed time
alone.”  He leaned closer, conspiratorially.  “ ‘Twas helluva sight
ta’ witness.  Ye’ve no’ spoken of it, these past days.”

“She eavesdropped.  My words
of anger were the last she heard before her abduction.”

“ ‘S’blood!  I warned ye’,
have I not?  Yer’ temper and its bite.”  Garreck eyed the dark void
just beyond the bonfire where light of flame yielded nothing.  Thank Danu
for the accompaniment of Elves and their uncanny eyesight.  Otherwise,
they could be surrounded by Lumynari, and remain none the wiser—‘til their
heads were rolling around in the snow.  Garreck poked a log, sparks
showering.  He watched them for a time, reminded of fireflies in
Quemori.  A home, no longer his.  He’d been in this strange land far
longer than the other.  He knew not whether he would bother to ever
return, should such a time come upon them to make the journey to Quemori. 
He gave his brother a sidelong glance.  Aye, words of anger indeed! 
The Celt had shared with him, Broc’s words of hate; words of filthy
accusations.  Another reason he knew his time, as part of Clan MacLarrin,
was coming to an end.  He had no desire to be laird; he had even less
desire to continue as captain for Broc.  The mohn’s temper had crossed
lines he could no longer stomach.  Remain and eventually lift a sword
against his brother, or embark on a journey into the modern’s realm, for, aye,
tha’ was where he would make his way.  Edinburgh called to him, its
ancient stones comingling with modern comforts.  But, for now, he would
see through his duty to his brother, their present circumstances no’ a time
fer’ personal endeavors.

Garreck craned his neck, looking
high above.  In the firelight, his dark wavy hair glistened like wet
ink.  “Nary a star to guide us.  Ye’ think she lives?”  He
closed his eyes.  “Think you, she holds governance over her own mind?” he
whispered.

“Aye . . . she lives.”  Broc’s
head drooped, and though the night was darker than any of them could remember
having seen in all the centuries they’d roamed, Garreck and those quietly
warming themselves by the fire witnessed the trembling shoulders of their
laird. 

Disheartening silence engulfed Clan
MacLarrin.

After a time, Aunsgar slipped into
their view, gravitating towards the Elvish fire.  Footfalls barely
discernible in the snow, he dropped down next to Broc.  “Aurelia has
passed.”

Broc’s grieving deepened. 

“The Lady Emily?” Reignsfeugh’s
voice cracked.  “She walks amongst our dead?”

Aedan draped an arm around the
ancient clansman.  Tension thickened until pourable from a caldron.

“Give us the worst of it,
Elf.  I’ve sensed for some time there is naught good the secrets you
wrestle,” Broc softly commanded.

“Counsel with Xyn reveals no more
than prearranged frail threads for us to grasp.”  Unable to hide his
defeat, Aunsgar turned from them, absorbing the flames Kelinai had thoughtfully
built for the Outlanders.  Any night, Aunsgar could look above him and
receive guidance from the constellations.  On this night, he and this
party of Elves, Forest Lords and humans were on their own.  “Emily is
Lumynari.”

“Blasphemy!” Aedan hissed,
lurching.  Reignsfeugh’s hand snaked out, yanking the hothead back from
bounding up to attack the prince.

“In a not so distant past, a child
was born.”  Aunsgar had yet to turn from the fire, allowing flames to
hypnotize him into detachment.  “A child of love to a Lumynari and a
human.”

“Unheard of,” Garreck argued.

“The human possessed extraordinary
powers and was shunned from her own kind.  She painted, and in this, found
beauty and isolation from taunts for her lack of eyesight.”

“How could she paint?” Aedan
muttered.

“I assume this was part of her
magicks causing those in her village to be unsettled.”  Aunsgar turned,
looking directly at Broc.  “She died shortly after childbirth.  Her
child was taken above ground, though she’d been claimed.”

“Claimed?”

“As life-mate by an ancient
prince.”

“Drakar,” Broc muttered, cursing.

“Dezenial.”

Garreck fist the air.  “Great
Danu!  ‘Tis why the heathen remained in our vicinity.  ‘Tis why he
was able to find her when that madman kidnapped her!”

“The more of it, Aunsgar,” Laird
MacLarrin commanded, rising.

“Emily remains of her own
accord.  She keeps her own council.”

Aedan lunged, grappled this time by
several men.  The Shield Master found himself plopped down between
Reignsfeugh and Kavan.  Urkani unsheathed his sword, silver glinting in
the flames.  An unmistakable whoosh alerted the Forest Lords to the close
proximity of Elves—their arrows fitted into long bows. 

None would dare charge their prince
again, and remain breathing long enough to witness the coming dawn.

“Will ye’ no’ defend the lass’
honor against what the Elf implicates?” Garreck asked.

“Ye’ canna’ mean ta’ say Lady Emily
remains with the Lumynari willingly!” Reignsfeugh spat.  “I willna’ accept
it.”

Broc’s continued silence settled
rumbling mutters.  At long last, he spoke, though to none in
particular.  “Aunsgar’s words, I know them to be true; visions, as I
sleep.” His stare drifted to the flames, once again, void of emotion.  His
arms tightly folded, barring the world.

“Do we just leave her?” Garreck
demanded, rising as well.  Lady Emily was Lumynari.  It explained
much, to his way of thinking.  “What visions have you suffered,
brother?  What
more
will unravel our lives?”

“We prepare for the battle that is
but a few sunrises away,” Xyn’s deep voice resonated from the darkness. 
The Elder stepped into the firelight, his heavy black cloak rippling slightly
in the night’s breeze, its ermine hem swishing in the churned snow.  As he
turned his uncanny stare upon each man, tempers diluted, grumbling silenced,
and swords sheathed.  “
Regardless
her heritage, Emily guards our
secrets, is keeper of power bestowed upon her from Aurelia,
some
of it
at least.”  He looked behind him.  Forest Lords and mortals peered
into the darkness, but could see nothing beyond the perimeter of
firelight.  “I was not aware Aurelia’s spirit held the ability to accomplish
such a task.  A testament to the strength we underestimated in her.” 
He turned back to the gathered men.  “There is more for Emily to fulfill
then simply guarding our ancient ways in order to save humankind.  ‘Tis
past time Quemori had its queen . . . and the future heirs to the throne she
currently carries.”

Broc flinched.

Understanding dawned on those
present, Aunsgar’s haunted expression, their own now mirroring his.  “Why
would Lady Aurelia choose ta’ leave now?  What heirs?  Lady
Emily?  She be wi’ child? Surely she canna—“

“Och, Aedan, ye’ sound like the
lass when—“ 

Finnegan silenced.

Lady Emily was gone.  ‘Twas
too sorrowful to continue the memory of a full-of-life-lass.

Aedan snarled, rabid glare aimed at
their laird.  “Lady Emily didna’ leave just to be traipsing within the
hidden tunnels.  She was running!  I know this as sure as my mother
soars above, adrift in Sister Wind’s arms!  Never will I forget the look
upon the wee lass’ face when I thought ta’ reach her before she slammed the
door to Aunsgar’s room of memories. 
Loathing
!”

“Aurelia was never to return,” Xyn
interjected, breaking into the tension between Shield Master and laird.

Several angry faces turned to glare
at the Elder.  “What in Lugh’s blood ‘ave we been waiting for then?” 
Reignsfeugh spat.

“The god, Zeus, discovered she was
misplaced.  Rebirth was ordered.”

“Aunsgar has the right of it: Emily
remains below of her own accord,” Broc muttered so softly, he was almost not
heard. 
Heirs?  No!
  But memory impaled his mind with
what he’d seen hours earlier in his private tent.  ‘Twas the reason 
he brooded alone, out here, in the cold, allowing the flames to wander away
with his mind. 
Emily
.  So real, he’d reached out to caress
the silkiness of her long white hair.  Then everything else came into
view.  Enfolded in the arms of a Lumynari, void her clothing, her own arms
encircled ‘round his neck, fingers twining his hair and deeply kissing . . . the
Lumynari’s eyes ember-red, gored him from over her head just before biting into
her neck.  Broc flew from his pallet, grabbing his sword, but sliced
instead haunting laughter of phantom images.  He thought for sure madness
set upon him, another shift of grief . . . save for her lingering scent of
vanilla.

“Aurelia resides with her father
now, in the valley beyond the sun.  King Breton summoned her, duty always
first, she answered.  No longer is she a part of Emily.  So too, she
has relinquished her position as Keeper.  She has relinquished these
duties into Emily’s keeping, though I know not if the young woman is aware of
what this truly entails.”

“Emily will never betray you,” Broc
ground out. 
Though she betrays us by succumbing to a Lumynari!
 He tried to purge the accusation from his mind.  Emily had no
understanding of Forest Lord history and what devastation Shadow Masters had
caused.  His lids shuttered, hating his mind’s fixation of her in the
throes of passion with another—with the hated enemy. 

She hasn’t been mine in over
thirty-six hundred years.
 

Still, he saw her face as
Aurelia’s; therefore, as
his
wife.  He rocked back on his heels,
the enormity of this self-admission overpowering.

 Reflection of Elvish
firelight made Xyn’s eyes appear to be the color of their beloved thistle
flower.  His stare upon Broc, just as unwavering as their ancient
flower.  “No, she won’t betray me, but we are unable to communicate with
her.  She remains hidden, sequestered in darkness we have no power to
penetrate.”  His steadfast glower did not waver from the Outlander. 
“
And
, she is content.” 

“Then how do ye’ ken she is with
child?  How can ye’ be sure she remains of her own volition?” Kavan
demanded.

“I have entered their domain under
the guise of being something they would all suspect to come looking for the
human in their midst,” Pendaran answered, and stepped into full view. 
Ageless, his visage was as awe-inspiring now as he was thirty-six hundred years
earlier.  Forest Lords sank to their knees, heads bowed, pulling quaking
moderns down with them.  A myth had come to life before their very eyes,
stories as mysterious as the immortals they guarded.  A druid.  Real
as their own flesh and blood.  ‘Twas an astounding moment, the ageless
wizard’s power and magic emanating the vicinity his presence commanded. 
Several openly gawked.  Others discreetly wiped their eyes, overwhelmed
that legend was in fact truth.  More fervor would be applied, when next
they told the stories.  And the lasses—how they’d blush and giggle when
told of Lord Pendaran’s long black hair, midnight eyes and ancient garb of
leathers, large silver sword at his waist, another strapped to his back.

Broc felt the heat of the ancient’s
stare penetrate the back of his skull.  “My words were in anger.” 
He’d be damned before sliding to his knees—ah, he already was.  Damned for
eternity.  Insane laughter skittered across his mind.  Damned to hear
the echoes of his cruel words about Emily.

“Their meaning as devastating as
your sword,” Pendaran growled, glancing the crowd upon their knees in the
trampled snow.  “Rise. Now is not the time for ways of old.”

“Och, just as well.  Mi’ bones
are too auld ta’ soak in this icy muck.”  Reignsfeugh struggled to his
feet, clutching Aedan as he did so.  But Aedan shrugged free the hand
attempting to hold him back.

“What
words
?”

“I was angry, pup.”

“Aye, called the woman
whore
,”
Kavan shouted, “and that she beds Garreck and Pendaran, all the while, plotting
our demise!”

Garreck was dumbfounded.  He
sought Reignsfeugh who simply shrugged.  The Celt had not told the all of
it.

“Emily stood within earshot of yer’
yellin’ just as I rounded the corner and stepped into an alcove ta’ see why she
cried.”  Kavan stomped closer.  Garreck drew his sword and stepped in
front of the MacLarrin, waylaying the tower guard’s  advance.

“ ‘Tis our laird.”  Garreck’s
eyes narrowed, the rest of his message not requiring words.

“Only
hope
stopped me, hope
I’d no’ heard correctly words so ugly, I craved bloodletting. 
Yers’,
MacLarrin!  Ye’ accused her of treason and whorin’!”  Kavan glared,
fists clenching and unclenching.

“I’ll kill ye’!” Aedan launched
onto Broc’s back, hammering fists against the face and skull of his
laird.  “I could ‘ave claimed her as mine!  ‘Twas my right!  She
gave her life fer me when Lumynari attacked! ‘Tis why I attempted,” Aedan
pummeled Broc’s head with each word, “ta’ give mine ta’ her when that bastard,”
another wallop to Broc’s face, “took her!”  His fist graduated to
choking.  “I respected yer’ oath of guardianship.  I respected ye ‘as
our laird!” 

Broc twisted.

Aedan yelped, his body hurtling
towards the flames.  An arm snaked out, smacking Aedan from the air,
waylaying him from landing in fire.  Broc’s sword freed, an ancient battle
cry wrenching from deep within his soul.