by Karey Brown
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.
“Your concerns regarding Aurelia matter not. Even in the end, she adhered to my father’s law, protecting the knowledge and ending her life to shield us. She was immortal, human, did you know? Had Ardra been successful, Aurelia would have been enslaved to their goddess, Shadow, for eternity—which is now how long you will walk this miserable existence, cursed for your failure to protect the Keeper.”
Hastily, Aunsgar stepped from the ring of his guards. “Pendaran, my lord, you cannot do this. Men craze from immortality.”
Sizzling eyes staked the Elf prince. “You were to protect her. His head should be piked at the end of your sword when he betrayed my trust.” Pendaran’s glower speared the growling Outlander before snapping back to Aunsgar. “And his betrayal to your queen. Now, you will protect him until she returns. Fail her again, and your bodies will feed scavengers for eternity.” Pendaran spun away, wanting nothing more to do with any of them. Snow powdered and swirled violently, a vortex towering over Pendaran. Stepping into the spinning, churning tunnel, unaffected by the fierce winds within, he turned slightly, glaring with such rage that even the Elves collectively stepped back.
“A thousand years your kind to roam, a thousand more until history’s unknown. Shadow warriors, death you will spurn, to protect the Keeper upon her return.”
Pendaran and the lifeless princess vanished.
Broc snapped his attention to Aunsgar. The prince continued muttering.
“What are your words?”
“I send her my requests for forgiveness.” Aunsgar lifted his pale face towards darkening sky, his blue eyes glittering as he openly wept. “I was to protect her.” His eyes squeezed shut. “I failed.”
Broc turned away, visions of horror imbedding themselves deep into his soul. Ghostly mists crawled towards them from the forest and prodded the dead before cocooning them. Garreck, born of the same mother, searched amongst the carnage for survivors. With blessings by Danu, none would be left alive. None would be forced to share in the curse of walking forever; of remembering that Aurelia allowed this to happen.
CHAPER TWO - EMILY
Present Day
“Now see here, Lord Garreck, she was on the wrong side of the road!”
“If ye’ weren’t already dead, I’d kill ye’ myself!” Footsteps scuffed against . . . wood? Emily tried opening her eyes.
“Christ’s blood, do ye’ think it’s really her?”
“She’s the twin of your laird’s painting, which is all I have to go by.”
“You’ve nosed enough with yer’ blatherin’ questions—“
“I’m a scholar. It’s my nature to nose, to seek information.”
Garreck bristled. “It’s your nature to be interferin’. ‘Tis ‘ow ye’ got yerself stuck in Netherworld in the first place. Do you ken what ye’ would ‘ave done had Aunsgar not advised I take steed and ride day and night?”
“If I were alive, I’d have you all committed for madness.”
The familiar sound of metal sliding against something likened to a gasp caused Emily to frown in semi-consciousness.
“ ‘Tis no’ madness that drives us, English. We wait for the return.”
“Yes, yes. Thirty-six hundred years, cursed. I’m acquainted with your suffering. Now, put that away lest you slice through my furniture again.”
Her tongue felt waxed, her throat burning. What . . . were . . . they talking about? Eyes fluttering, she ached everywhere. Her fingers prodded, causing her to flinch against their chill. She had to verify that her head wasn’t as it felt: split in two. Male voices dropped to incoherent whispers. Dead already? Cursed? Was this limbo before heaven and hell? Which was she destined for—coffee! She smelled coffee!
“Please,” she croaked, “please, coffee.”
“A Yank! Told you she was on the wrong side of the road!”
“Cease your bleating and fetch the wee lass water.”
Footsteps neared.
“Ye’ can’t be ‘aven coffee just yet, milady.”
Thick brogue curled around her. Milady? She dared peek. Candlelight poured onto her eyes. A cozy room. Heaven has waiting rooms? Fire crackled, its embers glowing upon a polished dark wood floor. Dark floor. Official. I’m in Hell. Everything in Heaven is pristine white. Explains my pounding skull. Maybe they charred me earlier and this is why my neck burns. Or I’ve been beaten with sin-sticks.
Memory tidal-waved. She’d been in a car, reading a blasted map—car! She moaned again, pain in her head pressing.
“Here, lass.” A stro
ng arm braced her back, the couch sagging deeply next to her. “Water.”
She looked up at the man, flinching against his sharp inhale. “As bad as it feels?”
“Yer’ eyes. Lumyn—“
He silenced, holding a silver goblet against her lips.
Allen nearly clapped his hands. “How many times have you sang ballads, expressing the beauty of the other’s eyes, their odd color of gold? I told you! I told you! It’s her!”
“I doona sing, spirit.”
Emily squinted, peering into a dark corner. Swiveling her attention back up at her cupbearer, pain knifed down her neck. Squinching seemed to help. Pain subsided. She peeked again at her couch mate. He didn’t look like a demon, save for the scar running from temple to cheek, and tucking just under his jaw. Handsome. Rugged. Definitely a demon. And I’d know. She tamped down memories of her ex-fiancé’s brutal lessons of how evil lurked behind an attractive face.
Her current nemesis weaved like a banner in the wind. “Please, don’t move . . . so much. Vertigo.” Or is he a viper preparing to strike?
“Lass,” he frowned. “I’m not movin’. ‘Tis that knock to yer’ head ye’ suffered when ye’ were driven off the road.”
“Now, see here! I did not force her to crash.”
Emily’s eyes snapped to an area where someone should have been present to go along with that voice. “Did I total the car?”
“Total?”
“She means damaged,” the faceless voice started. “Destroyed, complete loss, never to be used again, unfixable—“
“I get the point, mohn!” Her demon growled before returning his attention to her. “The car is, uh, totaled.” He smiled apologetically.
“Am I dead?”
