A hand reached for her and pulled her from her sanctuary. She clambered to her feet and collapsed into Balion's arms. Long moments later, she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. For the first time since arriving in Locke Cress, she recognized love in the blue depths.
His air-starved lungs delivered the words with great effort. "It was ye they wanted to kill."
Kira searched his magnificent features and realized he spoke the truth.
* * *
Kira lost track of time after Jarlock delivered her to her room with a stern directive, "Ye are not to leave until I return."
Shell-shocked, she nodded. In the ensuing hours, she alternated between gazing out the window and furrowing out a trail in the sawdust. She had company, another restless soul in the corridor outside her door exercising his legs. Kira pressed her ear to the door and opened it when footsteps halted outside.
"Milady, ye cannot leave your room until the Light-Prince―"
It took a moment to recognize him, the boy with azure blue eyes and faultless courage. "You're the brave young man who defended the Light-Prince with the King's sword."
"Aye, milady." He swept into an exaggerated bow. "Simon, son of Harold, the smithy."
"Smithy? Oh, the blacksmith." Kira extended her hand. "I'm pleased to meet you Simon the Brave."
A cherry flush stained his youthful cheeks. "'Twas my honor, milady, to fight beside Prince Balion."
"Please call me Kira."
"Aye, Kira. Shall I have Helena bring ye some fare? If there is anything ye need, ye have only to ask."
"Answers, Simon, that's what I need."
"'Tis sorry I am I have none. The Light-Prince ordered me to guard ye with me life and the King's broadsword."
"You must know who those men were."
"Assassins, milady, sent to kill―"
"Me?"
He nodded.
"But, why?"
"The Light-Prince and Jarlock seek answers now."
"Where do they search?"
"Outside the gates. 'Tis certain I am they will return soon."
To argue with him or barter for her freedom seemed pointless. No telling what drastic measures the boy might take to uphold his promise to guard her. "Very well, Simon. When he returns, please tell the Light-Prince I must speak with him."
"Aye, Kira, rest easy. Neither man nor beast shall darken your door whilst I draw breath."
She placed her hand on his cheek. "You fought well, Simon. I can think of no one I'd rather have watch over me."
Bowing at the waist again, his dark hair tumbled forward. "Thank ye, lass named after the sun."
Kira closed the door and took comfort from Simon's soft tread of footsteps up and down the hallway. A short time later Balion entered, rousing her from her drowsy state in the chair. He whispered something to Simon and closed the door behind him.
Kira knew she should thank the prince for saving her life, but she had had enough. In the long hours waiting for his return, she had prepared a speech in her mind that ran along the lines of, "I've had it up to here with saber-toothed tigers, fencing with wild boars and dodging masked assassins. Furthermore, I don't belong in this world of malevolence and murder. I want to go home, and since you command an entire kingdom and seem to be on a first name basis with sorcerers and wizards, I expect you to find a way to transport me there. Yesterday wouldn't have been too soon." The well-practiced words dissipated quicker than morning fog as he stood before her.
Moonlight poured through the window, dancing through the honey-gold streaks of his hair, whispering over his sculptured features and beautiful mouth. For the first time in her life Kira fell mute. Looking at her as though the weight of the world—his and hers—rested on his broad shoulders, she felt his every thought. He didn't know what to do about the men who came to kill her. He no longer knew who was friend or foe, but mostly, he didn't know what to do about her. All these things she sensed because for one brief moment his defenses had been stripped away, his vulnerability as palpable as the electric current passing between them.
He took a step toward her, his nearness crumbling her. "Ye are faring well?"
"As well as anyone plucked from the twenty-first century and delivered to no-man's land."
His eyes burned like embers. "I do not know this place ye speak of."
Fire. Fire. Illicit fire. If he touches me now, I'll melt like icicles in April. "No," she said, "you wouldn't."
If the space between them could be measured in time, he reached her in three seconds. His warm hands cupped her face, his touch sweet. "I do not have the power to send ye back." He searched her face. "Nor the strength if I did."
"Bad news for me." She released a humorless chuckle. "The way things are going I'll not live to see the sun rise."
"Nay, I will keep ye safe from harm."
"Like tonight?" The regret in her heart for saying such a thing was mild compared to the pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I know you saved my life." She pulled away from him to think. "Who were they, and who sent them?"
"One lived for a short time," he said. "Jarlock did his best to wrench it from the blackguard."
"What did he say?"
His words were gentle. "He was ordered to slay the copper-haired wench."
She shouldn't have been shocked, their intent seemed clear, but hearing Balion speak the words set her back. "They weren't after the medallion?"
He shook his head. "Someone wants ye dead and the why is lost on me."
Gwyneth. Somehow Kira had foiled the woman's elaborate plans. She wanted to tell Balion about the hazy vision of the beast bounding from the Great Hall, but after everything that had happened, she wasn't sure her imagination hadn't been working overtime.
"The boy, Simon, will guard ye now at all times. Ye are not to leave the room unless he is with ye." He narrowed his eyes. "Give me your word?"
She hedged and he stepped toward her. "All right," she whispered. Too tired to banter words with him, she knew if he touched her, kissed her, she'd be carried beyond herself in a heartbeat. She had to get away from here, from him.
"Ye need to say it, swear an oath."
"Fine." She rolled her eyes. "I'll not leave the room without Simon."
"Or the keep."
Like a parrot, she said, "Or the keep."
His face marred by fatigue, he smiled. "I will take my leave of ye now. Simon―"
Turning her back to him, she finished his sentence, "Will be right outside my door."
Long moments later, she heard the Light-Prince leave and close the door behind him. Muted voices filtered under the doorway, instructions to Simon embellished with the threat of death if he failed in his mission. Next, she heard the boy's vow to succeed.
Exhausted beyond words, Kira disrobed, pulled a nightshirt over her head and slid beneath the blanket.
And then uncrossed her fingers.
Chapter 10
His path drawn by an awning of pale white stars, Garrick stumbled through the dark. A mile from the cave, and his face and arms bearing evidence of raised welts and scratches, he cursed his travel-battered human form. In contrast, the Pantherinae could have covered the distance in thrice the time, unblemished and breathing normally. With Umargo's henchmen scouring the countryside, an arrow could find him, before they roasted him over an open fire. Curse The Story Mage and his purse of tricks.
Garrick would have done the sorcerer's bidding before the man cast a spell shifting him into the spotted cat, but the time to mourn his misfortune had long since passed. Wrenching the kingdom from Roldan and Balion benefited him as well as the wizard. Gwyneth would rule Locke Cress upon their deaths, but only if someone had the foresight to thwart the renegade events so his sister could marry the Light-Prince.
On bended knee, Garrick had beseeched the wizard to forego the spell.
"Ye think me stupid?" the Mage had asked. "Your own father served King Roldan and was loyal until his death. Nay, it must be done." He had skittered toward him with w
and in hand, his black cowl concealing everything but his fiery eyes. "It matters little that your sister has sworn allegiance to Umargo. I cannot risk it." His sinister laugh struck terror in Garrick's heart. "Once ye seek the path of beast, rut with females of your own kind, ye will beg to return to the life ye knew."
The Mage had been right. He had mated with the females, drawn in by their primeval scent of arousal. Staggered by his inability to stop the licentious cravings, night after night he'd stalk them and follow their primal scents of heat, their promises of primitive sex. Screaming like banshees and clawing at the earth with barred teeth, he pinned them down and drove into them hard and furious, like the beast he was.
For hours he'd fantasize about their sleek, moist caverns, and of late, he'd been romanticizing about mating with a human while in that state. He pictured her pale bottom high in the air, his paws holding it hard and still as he slid his engorged member deep into her womb and spilled his feline seed. Her face lacked features until now. An image of the lass named after the sun loomed behind his eyelids. He wanted her beneath him, not in his human construct, but in the cat's bestial form. Consumed with carnal thoughts of taking her in the forest while she screamed her pleasure to the four winds, he made a vow to himself―before The Mage reversed the spell, he would ravish her and then roar his exultation to the Gods.
The cave loomed ahead. He loathed the adobe-colored crags and all the hidden caverns they sheltered, but the missive had been clear. Written on The Story Mage's parchment, and sealed with the image of a dragon's head, death would find him if he ignored it.
Garrick stepped into the dank cairn, his eyes drawn to the torches at the far end. In a wiry, stoop-shouldered posture, The Mage emerged from the shadows, all billowy black robe and fiery golden eyes. The man and his godforsaken stories.
"The time is near," The Mage said.
"Aye, Umargo's men wait for his command."
His breath scattering like icy vapors, the wizard tossed his head back. "Umargo and his mighty army have been wrenched from the black void, and now the man will destroy King Roldan and his subjects. Sirene's son, Barrett, is incapacitated in The Sixth Realm and soon the Light-Prince will die. The sorceress will get her due and whatever powers remain will soon be eradicated forever."
The wolfish shadow of his face, stark white against the burning embers of the cave, defined the strains of evil embracing the man. Truly he's insane.
"Ye did not succeed in your mission to kill the girl in the forest with the wild boar?"
Garrick's shoulders drooped. "Curse the Light-Prince and his man Jarlock for saving her."
The wizard crooked a gnarled finger. "Your chance to take possession of the medallion slipped from your feeble hands." Spittle oozed from his pencil-thin lips. "What say ye of the second failure? Surrounded by Gwyneth's assassins, how did the lass manage to escape?"
"The Light-Prince is gifted with second-sight. He knew of the attack before the first dagger was thrown."
"I tire of your excuses. Mayhap I should find one more capable."
"I will recover the amulet, and when I do, Balion and the copper-haired wench will die." A smile stretched Garrick's lips. "And then I will partake of her delights before I kill her."
"There is no time for that now, ye fool." The Mage narrowed his eyes. "And I doubt she would take to mating with a spotted leopard."
His cock hardened and throbbed as visions of the lass undulating beneath him stormed through his mind. "Think ye I care?"
"Nay," the wizard said with a wheeze. "I do not believe ye do."
"Just remember your oath, old man. Ye promised once Balion is defeated, the kingdom will belong to Gwyneth and ye will remove the beast spell."
His eyes glittering like hot coals, The Mage fixed him with an unearthly glare. "I promised to remove the spell, and care not whether Umargo or Gwyneth rules Locke Cress."
"Ye have the ability to cast spells and render me more powerful than Umargo." Garrick's tone took on a desperate pleading. "I will give ye a lifetime of stories."
"I am old, my thirst for stories waning." Waving a hand in the air, he added, "I seek the ending to this story—who will win the battle and who will rule Locke Cress when it ends."
"Gwyneth must marry Balion, and soon," Garrick whined. "The survivors will follow her, not Umargo when the Light-Prince falls in battle."
The wizard's foul breath cut through the thick air. "Ye are overlooking a crucial fact."
"What is that, old one?"
"Sirene." The Mage spat the word. "Do not underestimate the power of her sorcery. She has befriended the girl."
"I do not fear the witch. Her powers are naught now that ye have banished her son, Barrett, to the bowels of The Sixth Realm."
"Only because her heart is heavy." The sorcerer launched into an apoplectic fit of coughing. Long moments later, he wheezed, "She holds the powers, however dormant. If her son returns, Sirene will unleash them with the force of a raging inferno."
Garrick countered, "Ye must ensure that Barrett never returns."
"Nay, ye will ensure it by stealing the medallion."
Flinching under those bestial eyes, Garrick took a step back. "Yes, sire."
"Ye have two suns. The one named Kira is about to steal the talisman. Find her, kill her, and take the amulet. Balion must not ride into battle with it." The sinister voice faded as The Mage retreated to the dark confines of the cave. "Two suns, Garrick, two suns."
* * *
The clouds streaked the horizon in a vibrant blast of ochre and gold as Garrick entered Umargo's tent. Striking him with a fierce glare, the leader of the Jangamoors turned to him. Big–boned and barrel-chested, Garrick feared the man's commanding presence, no less now than the first time he saw Umargo. Coarse skin the color of rusted metal bore his hard features, the hawkish nose, sallow eyes and wide mouth. Midnight hair swept past his shoulders, a perfect match to the dark stubble etching his square jaw. Umargo not only looked evil, he personified it, particularly when it came to his insatiable hunger to rule Locke Cress. Not even Gwyneth knew much about the man's past or from whence he came. Some said he sprang from the devil's loins, but Garrick couldn't dismiss his uncanny likeness to The Story Mage.
With a reverent bow, Garrick addressed him. "Your army is assembled, Master?"
Piercing eyes, fringed with ice-encrusted savagery locked with his. "Aye, the time is near. I can taste it, smell it."
"Pray this time ye will succeed."
"My men have had twenty long years to hone their blades and sharpen their hatred."
A shudder rippled down Garrick's spine as he conjured an image of The Sixth Realm, the black void.
"Soon the Light-Prince will fall in battle and I, leader of the Jangamoors, will cut out his heart and feed it to the vultures." He snorted. "What word on King Roldan?"
"We have searched every cave, covered every inch of forest." His shoulders fell into a slump.
"Gwyneth must wrench his whereabouts from Balion."
"The Light-Prince would sooner sever his tongue than reveal it."
Umargo paced the confines of the tent-like shelter. "He must be found. When the Prince dies, the people will rally around Roldan and all will be lost."
"He can not hide forever." Garrick shuffled his feet before broaching the subject he knew he must. "There is another complication."
Umargo's head came up. "Speak."
"The Last Sorcerer's medallion―"
"Ye need not worry about it, fool. Nicholas had it in his possession the day he was cast into the void."
"Nay," Garrick said. "Think, Umargo. Did ye see the Last Sorcerer in The Sixth Realm even once?"
Umargo came to an abrupt halt. "The Sixth Realm is an endless sea of darkness. It is not queer that our paths did not cross."
"Nicholas wasn't there."
"What madness is this?" Umargo screamed. "Spit it out, man!"
"Something went awry, Sirene interfered."
Umargo slammed his fi
sts together. "The witch! To where did the sorceress send him?"
"To a realm far away, into the future."
"Impossible! Ye lie!"
"Nay, Master." He retreated. "I speak the truth. The Last Sorcerer sired a daughter with a mortal. He gave the girl the medallion and she…."
"Aye?"
"Returned to Locke Cress with it."
Umargo dropped like a stone into a nearby chair. "How is it possible? A girl thrust into the past, into my world and she carries the sacred amulet?"
Head bowed, Garrick nodded.
"Ye have seen it?"
"Nay, but Gwyneth has."
"And?"
"It is the talisman King Roldan gave Nicholas before the last battle."
"Where is it?"
Garrick whispered the words. "Prince Balion has taken possession of it."
Umargo crossed the distance between them and stretched his hand over Garrick's throat, tightening his grip until he gasped for air. "Ye will take it from Balion. He must not ride into battle with it!"
"Aye, Master, I will bring the medallion to ye."
Umargo released his hold, his back ramrod stiff. "In two days, my armies march forth to crush Balion forever. If ye haven't returned with the medallion by then, your head will rest on my broadsword when I ride into battle. Do ye ken Garrick?"
"Aye," he rasped and turned to leave.
"Wait!"
"Master."
"Send your sister to me. I have need of relieving the ache in my loins before I fight her beloved prince."
With that, Garrick backed out of the tent, his thought to find the girl named after the sun.
* * *
Outside his tent, Umargo found his army preparing for battle. Propped against trees, their shields had been polished to shiny metallic silver, swords sharpened by coarse whetstones, and stable boys had curried and groomed the mighty steeds. A scene any leader would be proud of, Umargo stood back and reveled in impending victory. The day had come when everyone would pay, particularly Sirene. Damn the bitch and the magical invocation that had banished what remained of his army to The Sixth Realm twenty years ago. Two suns he told himself before Roldan's men would be scattered on a bloody battlefield. Two suns before Balion's head would rest on his broadsword and Sirene's powers would disperse behind the gates of Hades.
Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1) Page 50
