Shadows of the Keeper

by Karey Brown

  Pendaran pursued. A hunter closing in on its prey. Powerless to move, Emily searched her perimeter for escape. He lifted his arm higher, forcing her attention back on the medallion. Twirling rapidly, it transformed into a cylinder. Emily gasped. Tiny rays of light resumed shooting out towards her. They were changing . . . into white wispy hands—

  Throwing her arm up, she averted her gaze. “Pendaran, stop!”

  Shouting erupted.

  Emily was seized, spun, and slammed against a hard chest, an arm of steel banding around her middle. “Remain against me. I will protect you.”

  The nightmare who remained practically glued to her backside during this wretched trek was now offering protection? Stranger still, she actually found comfort in his silky voice. What was happening? Shouting escalated. She sensed utter chaos. Had Drakar’s forces attacked? The steel band relaxed a bit. Emily breathed more freely. She was even permitted to move away. Looking around, she expected to see slain bodies. Menacing killer frowned down at her, speaking foreign words. Odd, his hair was black. Emily gasped. “You’re the one who escorted us to dinner last night.”

  “He says for you not to move away from him. He has been charged with your life.”

  Emily warily complied. Muscled arm wrapped around her waist again. “What’s happening?”

  “Perhaps you would care to tell us.”

  “Do I look like an investigative reporter?”

  A cold edge to his voice, Inzyr spoke to the surrounding garrison. Their eyes, illuminated much like a nocturnal animal, scanned above and around. A few commented in return before moving away.

  “I am not in the habit of waiting for those in my charge to follow,” Inzyr said, returning his vicious scrutiny to her. “Nor do I wait for my questions to be answered.”

  “I have been following you.” She raised her chin. “I don’t want to be around you anymore. Take me back.”

  “Your whims are of little importance. What were you seeing?”

  “Seeing?”

  “You have stood rooted, unable to hear me calling your name. A vision presented itself to you.” He ground out words from behind clenched teeth. “What-did-you-see?”

  To say his name is to call him to you, Blade had warned. Did she want that? Even here, amongst these savages, did she want any of Broc’s lying comrades near her? But then, hadn’t Dezenial abandoned her? What loyalty did she owe him now?

  “You’ve made a grave error if you assume I will continue questioning.”

  “Tell me, oh Assassin, why did Dezenial trust me in your keeping, and yet, you drip contempt? Is it your wish to get me somewhere deep in these bowels of hell where you’ll finish me off, my carcass rotting, never to be found?” She felt the charging within her, a familiar sensation prior to battle. Veins tingled as if electricity coursed through her, tightening of her scalp, and a sharpness to her vision as, others claimed, her eyes began to glow.

  His eyes turned molten. Solid body against her back tensed.

  Time to see if Blade spoke truths.

  “Pendaran.”

  Inzyr’s nostrils flared. His upper lip curled and a snarl escaped.

  “Why would I be seeing Pendaran?”

  Inzyr charged. Fisting her collar, he yanked her close. She swatted, clawed, and even succeeded in biting the back of his hand. Arms banded around hers, pinning her from behind. Inhumanly snarling, Inzyr ripped open her tunic, exposing her cleavage.

  She crazed. Head-butting Inzyr, she used the body behind her as leverage, elevated and gut-kicked him with both feet as if pushing off. Quick as lightening, she repeated her performance, this time clipping his chin with her foot. His body slammed against hers. Glaring down at her were twin amber orbs of pure malice. The body behind her remained like a brick wall.

  “Call him,” Inzyr ordered. “The amulet hasn’t been placed around your neck. Call him now!”

  “Fine! PENDARAN, PENDARAN, PENDAR—“

  Calloused hand violently covered her mouth. “Utter that name again, and I-will-gut-you. Do not play coy with me.”

  “You said call him,” she mumbled from under his hand.

  “Dezenial.”

  She snorted.

  “In your special way, Emily. Now.”

  She shook her head. She wasn’t calling that son of a—

  Inzyr withdrew a double-edged dagger.

  Emily closed her eyes. Dezenial!

  That she was screaming, she had no knowledge until Inzyr’s hand clamped over her mouth again. Her throat was fire. How long had she left her mind?

  “We divert. My chambers. Follow me. Say nothing, Emily.”

  Her crazed eyes stared at his dagger poised over her heart. I hate you, Dezenial. I hate you! She screamed her mantra nonstop until mentally, she slumped. Inzyr walked with unfaltering purpose. She trudged. Colorless terrain sloped deeply. She was forced to lunge-walk. Twice, she’d come close to sliding down, had her protector from behind not steadied her. Cold air bit deeply leaving her diseased with shaking. Thin tunic, now torn thanks to a certain animal, offered little warmth. Leggings, thigh boots acted as barrier for her legs, but her arms had numbed over an hour ago. Every few minutes, she reached up with fingers that felt like unoiled hinges, and felt her ears. Still attached. They stung from the cold. How much longer before they froze solid and fell off? She rubbed her arms for warmth. Painful waste of effort. Not even her surroundings could distract from the freezing temperatures currently numbing her mind. Even darker than the previous hour. Her legs gave out. Abruptly lifted, she huddled against warmth, not caring who—or what—carried her. She burrowed deeper against the body, trying to absorb radiating heat. Clacking. Her jaw ached. How long had her teeth been chattering?

  They halted.

  A torch flared, burning her eyes. She buried her face into the chest of whomever carried her. So warm. If only she could get closer. She felt herself shifted, then eased down. They stood in front of an onyx door inlaid with runes. Didn’t matter. Too cold to care. They could be standing at Godzilla’s feet. She’d welcome the trampling, if it promised an end to this cold.

  “You are in my domain now. Remain silent until we are indoors.”

  Emily offered a half-assed salute. Then checked to make sure her fingers hadn’t fallen off.

  Several variations of Lumynari passed by. They acknowledge Inzyr, and paid her little heed. Probably assume I’m his whore. Or new slave. Her monster guard pressed his body against her backside, strong hand splaying her abdomen, his other arm wrapping tightly around her upper torso. Heat penetrated instantly. If she weren’t so damn cold, she’d slap him for the intimate way he held her. Warmth. Right now, he could strip her naked, shave her head and make her walk on her hands, if it meant he’d keep sharing this wonderful body heat. She pressed back, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the sensation of someone actually giving a damn about her.

  Flicker of apprehension coursed through her. Eyes flew open, positive the assassin was about to slit her throat. Inzyr touched large black shiny runes, while others, he turned. So deftly his hand traveled, she’d never remember the sequence. And then, she gasped, pressing deeper against her living radiator. Laughter rumbled against her back. The black shiny runes lifted, eight legs sprouting. Scuttling like real spiders, they traveled an invisible maze, deep holes randomly opening for them to drop their bulbous little bodies into. A series of wet pops followed. “Yuck. Uber yuck.”

  Arched door popped free from its holdings. Swoosh of pressurized air breezed over them. Barest hint of movement, the door opened enough for one body to enter. Inzyr snatched her wrist, and shoved her through. She clawed his face before he finally succeeded in coming in himself. Once he cleared the door, it slid back into its deep grooves. Several seconds passed, pitch black drowning her while the sound of metal spiders clackety-clacked back into their original place—or so, she assumed that’s what she was hearing. “I hate spiders.”

  “Silence.”

  “I hate you. I hate Dezenial. And screw yo
ur silence.” She screamed with every ounce she owned in her five-foot-three frame! Then she laughed.

  “Better?”

  “Bastard. Toad. Loser.”

  “You forgot asshole, maggot, and mean son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Jackass.”

  “Huh. I’ll add that one to my list of achievements.”

  Envisioning revenge by way of a plunging blade deep within her chest, she crouched.

  “I will give you light. Stand up, fool!”

  I’m an idiot. Lumynari could see in darkness as well as she could see in daylight.

  Flickering light illuminated. Though soft candlelight, her eyes watered and she had to shade them with her hand for a few seconds until adjusted to the dim light. She huddled, cold returning with a vengeance. More candles bloomed. Emily found herself standing in what could only be described as a warehouse loft apartment similar to those found in New York. Elite New York. She gawked. Inzyr’s living room was as gigantic and Broc’s great hall.

  “You will remove your shirt.”

  “You will kiss my ass.”

  “Your death from cold will not be for me to suffer a challenge over.”

  “And removing my shirt will somehow warm me?” She rolled aching eyes. “Dezenial keeps you around so he’ll feel smarter, right? I’m not removing my shirt, so gear up, Bubba, for whatever battle you’re about to be challenged in. Putz.” This last part, she muttered, forgetting their heightened hearing.

  “Your lack of fear has ceased to be amusing.”

  “Which is why you want me naked? Sorry, find some other form of humor.”

  “I am forever amazed the lengths Dezenial will suffer dealing with you.”

  Emily held up two shaking fingers. “Strike two, shit head.” Probably best to shut up now; she was too cold to give a damn.

  He glanced at her as if she were nothing more than a speck of dust. “If you are too modest to remove your shirt, you may step in there.” He pointed to a darkened doorway. “This should be more suitable to keeping your land-dweller skin warm.” Viciously, he tossed a sweater towards her. She was too numb to react in time. It landed against her face. Soft. Pulling it away, the heavy knit was heaven to her icy hands. “Channel? I’m not wearing something from one of your kills.”

  He laughed. “She won’t be needing it anymore. I like the color, and the memory it invokes.” He shrugged.

  Emily tossed it onto the black leather couch.

  “You will change into the sweater. You do not have choices with me, as you do with Dezenial. Change your clothing before you become ill. Or I will do it for you.” He turned from her and hunkered down in front of a fireplace of sorts. Turning two different dials, the mechanism began a low hum, its face turning orange. “This will produce enough heat to warm you.” He momentarily dismissed her as he ran his fingers along the spines of rows upon rows of books. Bookcases of staggering heights lined the wall, a steel roll ladder attached. She watched as he yanked free a massive sized tomb, thumbed through several pages at its center, then replaced it after a grunt. A sword mocked her. Carelessly discarded across an onyx table, her fingers itched to wrap around its hilt—a hilt scaled like snakeskin of gold, the artwork extended to resemble the creature coiled for attack. Another book clunked onto the coffee table, this the third book he’d glanced through.

  “You are difficult. Never have I tolerated insolence. Yours far exceeds limitations even for my loyalty to Dezenial. I ordered you to change. I will strip you. I think it time for you to learn who and what we are. This realm you find yourself in is not some game.”

  His footfalls galvanized her to make a break for it. Grasping the sword, she spun, bringing him up against its point. She stood firm her ground, opting for silence versus threats. The point of the sword was message enough. The impasse grew. The sword became heavy. Candles sputtered. Another hissed. She glanced the suddenness of it.

  Sword smacked from her hand at the same time, she was lifted and brought down on the table. Inzyr crushed her body under his, vicious dagger poised against her temple. If she hiccupped, the blade would penetrate her skull. “First lesson the Elves seemed to have forgotten in your training: never take your eyes from the enemy. I could carve yours out right now.” He slid from her, sheathing his menacing weapon. She remained immobile. Tears coursed down the sides of her face, pooling in her ears. The sweater landed on top of her. Earsplitting shriek agonized her head before she realized she was the one who had screamed.

  “No one will hear you in here. And if they could, there would not be a rescue. Get up. You damned fool. I warned you, Just Emily, your bravery could forfeit your life.” He shook his head, not bothering to look at her. “You are more safe with me than any you have thus far met.”

  Slowly, she sat up and slid from the table. What new trick was he playing now? Damn her chin for quivering. Her jaws ached from so much teeth chattering. She studied the sweater, not really seeing it. I hate you, Dezenial. I will always hate you for this. You’re no better than Peter. Correction. At least Peter had the balls to mete out the abuse himself.

  “I can’t wear something having belonged to a dead woman,” Emily whispered. “Have some compassion.”

  “You will have your precious coffee, Princess Emily, but not before you change. This temperature is dangerous for you. I have ignited the warming stones, but they will take some time to reach a level of heat offering you comfort.”

  “Thank . . . you.” More teeth chattering.

  “The sweater belonged to a lover—by choice, so don’t begin your madness regarding prisoners and slaves.”

  She clamped her mouth shut.

  “In there,” he pointed to where he’d earlier implied, “go change.”

  “It’s dark . . . in there.”

  He sighed. “How you could be terrified of the dark, and be my . . .” He stormed into the darkened alcove. A few seconds later, hint of orange light enabled Emily to see it was a bedroom of sorts. He came out, and swept his hand to indicate it was her turn to enter. She was depleted of arguments. She made a wide berth around him. Ribbons of blood marring his otherwise perfect face gave her pause. “Sorry.”

  “Cat fights aren’t something I usually partake in.” He smiled. “Who I am out there, Just Emily, is not someone you want to provoke. Eyes are everywhere. But, in here, only you and Dezenial . . . change, return, I will have coffee to warm you.”

  His sudden civility frightened her more than his weapons.

  Minutes later, she emerged. The sweater barred some of the cold, but it would take lava to thaw her frozen bones. Searching, she found him in a galley. A very efficient one. “I’m a little warmer. Thank . . . you.” She couldn’t stop shivering. “What . . . happened to your lover?”

  “Child birthing took her from this life.” He glanced at her. “The sweater fits. Good.”

  “God, how awful. Was it your child?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Right. None of my business.”

  He graced her with a most peculiar expression before looking away. “Im’pyurs are not safe down here.”

  She waited for him to elaborate, but instead, he kept stirring something on the stovetop. A child thrust from his care for being different. “Like Aurelia’s exile, just for being as you call, an Im’pyur.”

  Inzyr paused his task and studied her.

  “Visions flit as if my own memories.”

  “What is Dezenial to you?”

  “A son of a bitch. And you?”

  He actually laughed. Flutters of fear zigzagged through her. “You’re sure we’re safe in here?”

  This time he scowled.

  She rubbed her arms, scanning the ceiling. “Last time, premonition resulted in Spinners carting me off to Drakar.”

  “His ilk won’t make it past the guards outside the door.” His smile widened. “He is not brave when it comes to antagonizing me.”

  “And Dezenial? He seems indifferent to your temper.”

  “We are of an
ancient brotherhood, our age spanning nine millennia.” He tilted his head. “Your mouth drops like a baby bird waiting to be fed.”

  “And here I thought it was your winning personality that had everyone taking the long route around you.”

  “I would just as soon end their miserable lives.”

  “Yeah, you’ve made that abundantly clear.”

  “His mother is Shadow, goddess of lurking darkness.” He turned off the stove. “His father—“

  “Is Hades, yes, I’ve been told this bedtime story.” Emily tossed back her hair, remembered the braids, and began working on undoing what had taken hours. “Is this why you’re his puppet?”

  He turned away, waving his hand. “Your tongue removal is becoming paramount.”

  “Whatever. Your hatred makes this conversation ridiculously fake anyway.”

  “I’m an assassin. If I show kindness towards you, regardless your position, I place myself in jeopardy. But more than that, you would become a target.” He pulled down two cups. “I have many, many enemies down here, Just Emily.”

  “I think you have the savagery thing down pat, yanno, ‘cause I’m just oh-so-lethal.”

  “I shudder with dread.” He opened a packet of some sort and divided the contents into each mug. “My way of life, our world down here, will make you cringe, Emily. You think you fear the dark now? Your silly world has no inspiration of terror, or what darkness can unleash.” He glanced up and grinned before resuming his task. “Mortals chase away darkness with their array of lights for every corner. You have been sheltered in Dezenial’s small private kingdom, a mistake I cannot make him see his way out of.”

  Emily’s stomach rumbled.

  “Sit. Do not pull another weapon on me. Your food and coffee are almost ready. Even we Lumynari like your poisonous brew. She liked coffee as much as you do. Some things are inevitable.”