Shadows of the Keeper

by Karey Brown

  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.

  The undeniable hiss of several claymores and broadswords being unsheathed filled the night.

  “Nay, MacLarrin. Ye’ll no’ fight against any o’ us for yer’ betrayal of Lady Emily. Ye’ cast her aside when she was yer wife; ye’ cast her aside when she was yer’ ward.”

  “Move aside, Celt,” Broc snarled.

  Reignsfeugh’s voice remained calm, his gaze steady. “Cool yer’ head, mohn. We stand by yer’ side ta’ fight the Lumynari, but her Shield Guard has the right ta’ defend his lady.”

  “She is mine!” Broc staggered. Claymore slipped from his fingers. His admission sobered him like a slap.

  “Not for a very long time,” Xyn corrected before turning away and melding into the dark.

  “Here,” Garreck proffered a flask to his laird. “ ‘Twill help yer’ mind as well as ease some o’ this cold.”

  Broc slowly accepted. Neither brother commented on how badly Broc’s hand trembled.

  “You will tell us what you saw of Emily,” Aedan demanded of Pendaran. “How she fares. How could you guise yourself, yet the Elders dare not enter the Lumynari lair?” Aedan rotated his shoulder and glared venom at Broc before returning his scowl upon the druid.

  “A powerful priestess travels as a shadow, when spying for her goddess.” Pendaran’s black hair billowed, lifting, then settling the length of his back. Sister Wind, they noted, could not help herself. It was the same with Aunsgar’s hair. Always, the Elemental made them aware of her presence, lifting their hair, weaving her fingers through the tresses, smoothing them down.

  “Emily remains blind to her power unless provoked to protect herself or those she feels are in her care.” Pendaran locked gazes with Broc. “Dezenial desires to return her to the light.”

  “Used her, now discards her.” Broc spit.

  “Protects his twins she carries.” Pendaran rather enjoyed the effect of several men sitting heavily, ogling in shock. But mostly, he enjoyed the contortion upon the MacLarrin’s face. His pain was but a small payment for having failed—again.

  * * * * *

  “Okay, so, if I clap my hands once, and focus on shadows, darkened alcoves or corners of rooms or unlit caverns or—“

  “Or my bed . . .” Dezenial growled.

  “I can barely walk as it is.”

  “Keer’dra!” Booming laughter filled their chamber.

  Emily raised her hands and clapped once.

  And vanished.

  “Oh-my-God!” Emily stepped from a dark corner and waved at her husband. “This is just too cool!” Another clap echoed. “Wooot!”

  Dezenial rolled his eyes, his wife squealing from their bedroom.

  “Gotta do it again!” Giggling, envisioning where next she desired to be, Emily manifested in an alcove boasting a locked door. “What’s in this room?”

  “Never enter. Never allow your curiosity to rule. A portal, such as is in your father’s dwelling.”

  “To?”

  “To Otherworld, Emily. You cannot return if you pass through that door.”

  “Can you?”

  “I am Daemon. The way is most open to me.”

  “Pfff, your dad and I are going to have to discuss my having a few keys to your territories.”

  Another clap and another squeal, this time a bit further, as it sounded like she’d appeared in their gathering room. Dezenial settled his tall frame into a leather chaise recliner—a human comfort he much enjoyed. Thoroughly amused, he watched and listened as Emily vanished and reappeared repeatedly. His long legs crossed, a rare moment of complete leisure. He’d allowed her to drink from him again, this time yielding to the awakening of her carnal desire. The vixen had then, thanks to a certain assassin unable to keep his mouth shut, wanted to know how a true Lumynari made love.

  She’d proven to be an apt pupil.

  His inner thigh, where she’d bitten and drank from him while working wonders with flames emitting from her hand, had ignited in him something never experienced—

  His hair was viciously yanked, jerking his neck!

  Howling, he rocketed from his chair. Emily was nowhere for him to latch onto and throttle. “Insolent witch! I command you to return, sorceress!”

  Silence.

  Not even a giggle. Emily never contained mirth when besting and pranking him. He frowned. Had she yanked in fear?

  Keer’dra?

  Nothing. She’d sworn oath never to use her newfound power to shut him from her mind.

  “Dez . . .” Emily appeared. And yelped, falling to her knees. Huddled. Shaking. Teeth chattering. “I don’t . . . feel . . . help me.”

  She was lifted, carried and gently settled onto his lap. “You will tell me, Emily, did you enter the portal?” Her skin was ice. Her mi
nd remained closed.

  “No. I don’t know. Darkness was everywhere. No sound. No light. So cold.” She curled into fetal position. “A chasm, Dez.” Convulsive swallowing commenced. “I think I’m going to . . . gag.” Color drained from her. Cold sweat beaded across her brow.

  “I warned you are with child. We will have to be more careful what magicks you practice.” His cool hand rested upon her cheek, incantations muttered to slow her racing heart. As her body warmed, her mind thawed.

  And their connection renewed.

  Drakar!

  The Lumynari grew bold. Which meant, he was becoming desperate. Dezenial pondered this for several long seconds while sifting Emily’s hair through his fingers, encouraging her to relax as she regained her balance. Either his mother’s patience for Drakar drew to an end, or Shadow had somehow ascertained Emily was about to slip from her grasp. A mental command and Daemon Elites closed ranks throughout his palace.

  “Why do I hear Drakar’s name in your mind, Dez?”

  “He borrows magicks from my mother in an attempt to pull you from my protection.”

  “Is that where I was?”

  His arms tightened around her. “I believe so. Do not fear, little one. That band on your arm is not something anyone down here is aware of—not even my bitch of a mother. The elite wrapped around your arm is immune to Shadow’s powers; can pulverize her.