Shadow Magic (14 page)

             
Closing her eyes, Deirdre held her silence, afraid that she knew what words he would speak next.

             
“I bade Banan to wait for me, well hidden in the barn.

He did not.  Once of Arthur’s knights found him, and thought it great sport to threaten Banan with his sword.

              Banan fought bravely, though I heard him cry out to me when the metal blade pierced his flesh.  The cut would not have harmed a mortal, small and on the shoulder as it were.

But this iron is poison to my people, and by the time I carried Banan back to Rune, he had already begun to fade.”

              “Surely there was something…”

             
“Something.  Aye, I believed the same.  So I brought him to Fiallan, who has powerful healing skills.”

             
Deirdre’s throat ached at the bleakness in Egann’s voice.  “And Fiallan was not able to save him?”

             
“No.  Banan suffered greatly because of me.  He died.  And all I could do in my agony was place a curse on the mortal knight who had harmed him.  `Twas because of me that Mordred hated his father and betrayed him.  `Twas because of my curse the noble King Arthur departed this life.”

Deirdre shook her head.  There were no words to ease so great a grief.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “So sorry.”

He seemed not to hear her, swallowing hard before continuing.  “In my sorrow I broke an ancient law, cursing these humans.  The awful thing is that none of this brought my brother back.  None of this eased my people’s sorrow.  To this day, they still mourn.  Perhaps now that I am gone, they will be able to forget.”

More than anything, she wanted to go to him, to hold him close and give him what little comfort she could.  But both of their wills had proven to be weak.  Perhaps she could bring him a measure of consolation with careful words instead.

“`Twas not your fault—”

“Nay?  `Twas not the fault of poor Mordred, who only nicked the boy with his sword.  Such a small cut would have barely wounded a mortal lad – how could Mordred know that Banan was not human?  Nay, my lady, never doubt that the fault is all mine.  I failed to protect my brother.” 
             

Now it all became clear to her.  “And this is the reason you will not be King?”

He gave her a grim smile as he nodded.  “Do you not see?  If I failed my own brother, how could one such as I protect an entire people?  They are better off without me.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

              Once the words had been said, Egann continued walking. He knew not how Deirdre would react to his truth, how she would respond to the knowledge that the one she trusted to keep her safe was and always had been nothing but a failure. 

             
He could not blame her were she to seek another protector. 

             
Yet as he walked, so did she, still at his side.

             
In silence they moved, while a thousand memories went through his mind.  He had loved Banan greatly, as had all of his sisters, some of whom had never stopped mourning. He supposed he himself would carry the grief – and the guilt – with him for eternity.

             
For now, he had to deal with the probable rejection of his mortal companion.  He deserved, he thought wryly, whatever scorn or disgust she directed at him. 

             
Yet as they continued towards the village, she did not speak.  The silence, normally welcome, began to feel oppressive as he waited.

             
The mist-shrouded moon, a silver orb, traveled slowly across the evening sky.  The air, cool and clear, smelled of heather and fern and fresh cut hay.  Though he listened, he heard no sound that any one followed, nor approached; indeed it seemed to him that all of mankind slept. 

             
Except Deirdre, the nocturnal Shadow Dancer. 

             
When she finally spoke, it was only to call his name.  Her voice was soft, reflective, and he had to strain to hear it.

             
“Egann?”

             
He could feel her gaze upon him.  Because he did not trust his voice, he settled for a brusque nod.

             
“Misfortune and mishaps occur in the lives of everyone.”

             
Fiallan had said as much, once.  But Egann knew better.

             
“The death of your brother was not your fault.”

             
He would not argue the point.  What was done, was done.  Banan had died.  Whose fault his demise might be mattered only to him.

             
“Please look at me.”

             
This request he could not deny.  Reluctantly he slowed his steps, halting finally and bringing his gaze down to meet hers.

             
Her eyes were now a brilliant emerald, gleaming in the silver moonlight
. 

             
She tilted her chin up in obstinate certainty.  “Even if you do not believe me, even if you go through the rest of your years thinking that you and you alone were the cause of Banan’s death, hear me now.  This time, with me and with the amulet, you will not fail.”

             
His heart stuttered, then began to pound.  `Twas only with the greatest of will that he kept his expression implacable. 

             
“Your confidence, though touching, might well be misplaced,” he drawled.  Though he kept his tone light, he hoped she would understand that he gave her a warning.  `Twas only fair that she know he might not be the best choice to protect her.

             
Their gazes locked and held.  Once again he felt the strength of the seductive spell luring him to touch her.

             
This time, he would prove his self-control was stronger.  He would prove that he could touch her as any other man, touch her and not give in to the sweet temptation she presented. 

             
“Come,” he held out his hand, releasing breath he had not even realized he held when she took it.  Such a little thing, the feel of her small hand resting so trustingly in his, but it warmed him all the same.

             
Someday perhaps, he would tell her how much.  For now, he kept his tone light.  “Let us continue onward.  We will talk no more of this. Instead, tell me of this new dream you have had of the Amulet of Gwymyrr.”

             
Her stride did not falter, though she squeezed his hand.

             
“Yes.  `Tis a powerful talisman, this amulet of yours.  Though I did not see the sparkling jewels nor the heavy silver chain, I felt the strength of its force even in the mournful song it made. ”

             
“The amulet mourns still?”  He should not have been surprised.  Would guilt and sorrow haunt him forever?

             
She nodded.  “Aye.  Though great crowds of people surrounded me, I heard the mournful song and it seemed to me that the amulet called out to you with this lament.  I know not why I felt this.”

             
He did, for the amulet had called to him once before - on the day he’d refused to become King of Rune. 

             
Now however, it called to him no more.  He had but touched it briefly, before being robbed of its energy.  If the talisman were to let him hear it, he could find it and return it to his people, to Rune, where it belonged.

             
“You did not recognize the city?”

             
“Nay, for never until now have I left the cliffs.  Yet there was stone on all sides, great walls made of rock, so tall they blotted out the sky.”

             
“There are many cities like that in the world of men.”  Disappointed, he could only hope that somehow the amulet would show him where to search.

             
“It sings so seductively,” she mused.  “As if the charm seeks to tempt me with its call.”

             
“Then why have I not heard this song?”  He let his bewilderment and anger resonate in his voice.  “I do not understand - why has not a vision of the amulet come to
me
in my dreams?  Why you?”

             
The breeze ruffled her long black hair, sending silky strands to caress her shoulders, as it did when she danced.

Watching her, his mouth went dry.

              “I cannot fathom the connection,” she said, “though I know that one exists.”

             
Dragging his gaze away from her with an effort, he shrugged.  “In time perhaps it will make the reason known.”  He must stay focused on the task at hand.

“We must keep on the move, if we are ever to find it, and avoid the Maccus.  Since you have not been told in which direction the amulet lies, we will head West, in the direction of the setting sun.”

She laughed, a sad little sound.  “I will have to take your word for that, since I have never seen the sun set.  But I must ask you, do we not have need of your horse?”

             
More relieved than he should be that she would follow his lead and talk of the task at hand, he gave her a grim smile.

             
“Not yet, though I too have thought of Weylyn.  He is not all that he appears, and wearing the form of horse is not pleasant to him.  I have promised him time to hunt, and cannot call him yet, though I will summon him when it is time.  For now, we will walk.”               

             
A quick glance at Deirdre and the stubborn set of her chin told him that she did not agree.  But, though he waited for her to tell him so, she did not, only squeezing his hand once more. 

“Where do we go?” she finally asked.

“We head for the village of Bodmin.  There, I will question the hunters, to see if they have noticed anything unusual or strange.”

“How many days will this take?”  Though she kept her tone even, Egann could hear her trepidation to meet others who were strangers to her.

“We should reach Bodmin before sunrise.”

“I see.”  She nodded, her head held high, breathlessly trudging along at his side.  Though he had shortened his stride to match hers, he could see that she tired rapidly.  Perhaps he would have to call for Weylyn sooner than he had thought. 

“Can you not keep up?”  Once said, he nearly winced, for he had not meant to ask her so brutally.  But she appeared to take no offense, glancing up at him with a half-smile on her full lips, her eyes glowing with amusement.

“I do not think so,” she replied.  “Though I will try.  I find I am uneasy to travel so exposed, with no place to take shelter when the sun rises.”

His heart sank.  Once again she thought that he had failed to consider her curse.  He could not blame her for believing him irresponsible.  Had he not warned her, just moments ago?  Still, he had no intention of letting her believe she might be in imminent danger.

“Worry not, Deirdre of the Shadows.  As I have said, we shall arrive at Bodmin long before morning.”

She nodded, the faint glow of the moon making silver strands in her midnight hair.  “Do you find it so easy to walk among men?”

             
He halted so suddenly that she, unprepared, continued a pace farther without him, until his grip on her hand yanked her to a stop.

             
“Why do you ask?”  Puzzled, he tilted his head to study her.  “Do I appear so different than other men?”

             
It seemed to him she waited entirely too long before she gave him her answer.

“Since my experience has, until now been limited to my small village only, I am not certain how to best reply. But I will try.  Are you different, you ask?” She let her verdant gaze slowly travel over him, heating his blood and making him wish he had continued to walk. 

“Though you may desire it not so, you
are
unlike other men I have known.  You appear noble perhaps, though I believe most of the nobility do not walk, but ride.”  She said this with a toss of her head, reminding him that she had asked for his horse.  “Oh, and you are taller than other men I have seen, and more broad of shoulder and chest.  Some might find the sheer size of you frightening.”