Shadow Magic (26 page)

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Authors: Karen Whiddon

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal Romance

BOOK: Shadow Magic
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Deirdre found it difficult to believe that this Hearne, a Maccus, had a sudden change of heart and no longer wanted his people to hunt Shadow Dancers.  No when doing so was so deeply ingrained in every fiber, every being of the Maccus.  `Tis the reason they existed.

             
"There are many Shadow Dancers here, who have joined our cause."  Ula said, her tone still wheedling.

             
"How many?"

             
"Hundreds."

             
Deirdre began to realize what this Hearne meant to do.  Gather together all Shadow Dancers, with false promises and honeyed lies.  Then, when he had them all assembled in their hundreds or thousands, he would call down his Maccus warriors, and kill them all with one fell swoop.

             
"Come now."  Without waiting to see if Deirdre would follow, Ula moved away, down the stone corridor.

             
Did this Hearne truly have the Amulet of Gwymyrr?  Because she had to know and because those other Shadow Dancers that she had seen, kept drugged and in a stupor by the potent herb in the smoke would be like lambs led to a slaughter, Deirdre reluctantly followed.

* * *

              The sun rose with a fiery presence, warming Egann's back as he made his way down the jagged rocks, finally reaching a small, sturdy ledge just above where the waves crashed over the sharp stones below.

             
A few feet away he saw the cave mouth, a yawning black hole in the cliff face that surely filled with the rising of the tide. He stepped inside, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim light.  There were two passageways, side by side with no markings to aid him in making a choice.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he went utterly still, his mind reaching, searching for the same hint of Deirdre's essence that he had detected on the cliffs.  It had been faint, an elusive trace carried on the salty breeze, but here he could find nothing.

Cinnie made a sound, a cross between a purr and a growl.  Weaving between his legs, she went ahead, down the stone passageway to the right.  At the first curve, the small kitten hesitated, looking back over her shoulder at Egann and mewing three times before disappearing.

Somehow, Deirdre's pet knew where to go.  This way then, he would follow.

Though the sun now burned bright in the sky, once he had gone a few paces into the bowels of the cliff, it ceased to matter.  The deeper he traveled, the less light he had to guide his way.  Perpetual night reigned here, and he stopped and used his magic to make a torch.  It took three attempts to do so; strange in one as skilled as he, who could ordinarily do such minor magic with only a snap of his finger.  Most likely the arduous journey and days without rest had finally taken their toll. 

Maneuvering the uneven passage became easier with the torch to light his way. Following the kitten, he made quick progress, noting the increasing chill and the faint smell of sulphur that tainted the air. 

He sensed no other life, not even the small, furtive creatures that normally thrived in such caves.  Deirdre and Ula had passed this way and their assailant must have taken them, for whatever reason, to some awful lair underneath the earth itself. 

The silence became oppressive, the stench in the air most foul.  Yet trusting Cinnie and that inner sense that he believed implicitly told him that his course was accurate.

He heard a faint sound, sharp then gone so quickly that he might have imagined it.  Rocking forward on the balls of his feet, he continued to move with the silent stealth of a hunter, though he dared not extinguish his torch and render himself blind.

But again he heard it, a weak cry and the low murmur of many people talking, all at once.  Though Cinnie had led the way thus far, she came back to him and sat at his feet, tilting her furry head and appearing to listen. 

Whatever created the sound, it lay farther down the passage, deeper into the earth. 

He pressed on, the small cat now trailing behind.

As he rounded yet another sharp turn in the passage, though each step carried him deeper into the earth, he saw that the darkness grew less absolute.  Yet he could not determine the source of the light.

His sense of urgency grew.  Yet try as he might, he could not find Deirdre's essence.  Mayhap magic did not work well underneath the earth's surface.

But then what created the light?

Placing the torch against the rock wall to burn harmlessly, he went ten paces ahead without it, around yet another twist and turn, and found he could see quite well..  This was good, as the bright flare would have given away his presence if sentries or guards were posted by whatever manner of being lived in such a dark place.

With each downward step the air seemed to grow more heavy, more fowl.  He smelled a faint sickly/sweet scent – incense or an herb of some kind – and bitter, acrid smoke. 

Then in the distance he saw the ominous glow of a huge fire and his heart seemed to stop in his chest.  Always now he equated the blaze of flames with the dark deeds of the Maccus, in their blind devotion to their red and angry god.  Fire had come to mean one thing – sacrifice and death for Shadow Dancers.

Deirdre!

Had it been Maccus who had somehow transported Deirdre here?  Had they been able to increase their magical talent by so great a leap?  Or mayhap the amulet had aided them in this respect.

No matter how they had done it, if the Maccus had been the ones to bring the Shadow Dancers here, then Deirdre and Ula were in great danger.

Fear and anger burning in him, Egann began to run.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

"Here," Ula hissed, her bony fingers digging into Deirdre's arm, "you will meet the one who has the power to change your life."  Her intense gaze seemed to bore into Deirdre, as if by the force of a look alone she could compel her to believe. 

The effects of the smoke-drug had totally worn off now.  Deirdre blinked and swallowed, her mouth dry.  Fanaticism.  Only once before had she witnessed such a thing.  A woman in the village on the cliffs had once become obsessed with the Shadow Dancing and the limited magic the dance created.  This woman, not living under the curse that Deirdre did, had gathered a group to her to try and force Deirdre into the sun.  Luckily, she had not prevailed. 

The power to change her life?  This man that Ula followed – this Maccus?  It seemed unlikely that he would change her life in any way except to end it.  And he gathered Shadow Dancers to him like moths to a dancing candle flame? 

She could only think of one reason, and that chilled her blood.

              A man stepped from the shadows, a sparkling pendant hanging heavy his neck.

             
The Amulet of Gwymyrr!

             
Hand over her mouth, Deirdre stifled a cry of recognition.

             
Egann's missing talisman.  Worn by a clever and ruthless wizard.  Thief of dreams, evil murderer. 
Maccus
.

             
She stared that the amulet.  Even in the smoky light underground, the brilliant gemstones gleamed with radiant life.  The heavy silver chain lay flat against his broad chest, and his arms were easily twice the size of Deirdre's own.  Hands clasped behind his back, he stood in a fighter's stance, legs spread apart and planted firmly on the hard ground.  His golden hair was the same color as Egann's, yet dull as well.  `Twould appear that this Maccus was a warrior  but Fae also.

Even in the shadows, Deirdre could see that his eyes gleamed with lust, though not the ordinary sort of a man for a woman.  Nay, this man thirsted for one thing – the power of the magic that the Amulet had awakened in him. 

`Twas this man that stood in the way of Egann's goal. 

For a moment she saw the thunder of such a battle, and knew fear for Egann and his people.  Her stomach clenched.  

"I would be King," he said softly, as though he responded to Deirdre's every thought.  "I am Hearne, and I wear without harm that which proves me rightful monarch of Rune."

"And of earth."  Stepping forward, Ula's expression seemed full of worship and awe.  "Never before has one lived who could lead us to such glory.

Hearne acknowledged her comment with a regal nod, watching Deirdre closely.  "Know you the legend of how the Shadow Dancers came to be?"

Lifting her chin, Deirdre met his eyes calmly.  "Yes, I do.  And I also know how the Maccus arrived at their fate."

His expression darkened, but only for a moment.  "Then you know that it will take one man to right the grievous wrong done by our ancient ancestors."

"You seek to remove the curse that has haunted the Shadow Dancers over centuries?"  Disbelieving, Deirdre held herself utterly still.  She would reveal as little of her thoughts to this man as she could. 

"And to the Maccus."  His arrogant tone rang in the stone enclosed place.  "Never forget how the Fae mistreated the Maccus."

Knew he not the true heritage of his own people?  They were Fae themselves, only banished from their home that was Rune.

This time, Deirdre knew it would be wise to hold her tongue.  This Hearne would not take kindly to the knowledge that she understood the truth behind his words.

He sought only to restore the Maccus to the place of power they had once sought, so long ago when they had first brought battle against their brothers.

Ula spoke then, after a quick bow of her head in deference to Hearne.  "It is because of the Fae that you are condemned to a life of darkness," she said, watching Deirdre with eyes that gleamed in the darkness.  "So explain why you, knowing this, traveled with one of them, and he a Prince of Rune besides."

"Egann is a good man."  Quickly, Deirdre sought to turn the talk from words of fault.  Though in a way, the older dancer was correct – it
had
been Fae who cast the misdirected spell.  She herself had once blamed Egann for this as well. 

The smile Ula gave her seemed smug and full of self-importance.  "Be that as it may, there are those who would see your prince fail."  She darted a quick glance at Hearne, who nodded.

"Fail?"  This Deirdre could not comprehend.  "Fail at what?  I do not understand."

"Enough," Hearne roared.  "Understand this, little dancer.  Only here, under the earth, can you truly be free from the sway of the moon.  Only here can you dictate when and why you dance, or even if you dance at all."

Grinning in agreement, Ula seemed to vibrate with excitement. 

Control.  So this was the bait they used to entice the Shadow Dancers to join them.   Tempting it might seem to some, for utter control of one's actions was the most basic sort of freedom.

But to never have even the faintest hope of one day seeing the sun? To never again see the night sky, stars winking like rare gemstones?  What of the wind, and the rain, and the tantalizing scent of fresh mown hay?

"`There is little difference," Hearne said, smiling matter-of-factly, as though her hidden thoughts had been spoke out loud, "from the life of darkness you must all live now, dancing at the bidding of others."

Deirdre tried a different question, out of curiosity to see how Hearne would answer, for she did not now expect to hear him speak a word of truth, only his own misshapen version of it.

"Tell me this then, why do the Maccus hunt and kill Shadow Dancers?"

To her surprise, Hearne seemed to find her comment amusing.  "I thought you said you knew the truth of how Shadow Dancers came to be."

             
Perplexed, she spread her hands before her, indicating she did not know what to say.  Indeed, `twas the way of fanatics to twist what was real and shape their own truth, one that better served their own purpose. 

             
"I would hear your account," she said, letting him know that she knew the actual version, the one that Fiallan had told her. 
The one that she believed
.

             
With a dry chuckle, Hearne moved closer.  He opened his

mouth to tell her, but Deirdre could not hear his words.

              For the Amulet began to sing.

             
Not a lament nor a dirge this time, but an ecstatic call, full of excited welcome, the kind of joyous cry a woman might sing when her man has just that moment returned from years away at war. 

             
The notes rang out, sharp and clear and echoing off the stone walls, barely fading before the next one sounded.  Ula made a shrill noise, a keening cry, and dropped to her knees, covering her ears.

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