Shadows of the Keeper (10 page)

“No, I’m just as you,” her
borrowed
voice answered.  She offered a gentle smile to her skittish visitor. 
“You frightened me.”

“My kerna says you can do great
magic, like the goddess Danu and like Penarin and you might turn my sister,
Na’Dryn, into a tree nymph to make her go away.”

“Unfortunately, use of my magic is
forbidden until our Elders grant me otherwise, and it’s Pen-dar-in,” Emily
corrected.  “Turning your sister into a tree nymph would be too kind.”

“If you use your magic, will you be
yelled at?  My kerna yells.  She yells at me to be like my
sister.”  Maira wrinkled her nose, her cherub lips squinching.  “I do
not want to be like my sister.  She and our chief squeal in the byre like
the animals . . . “

Maira was too naïve to observe heartache
engulfing Emily over the child’s innocent revelations.

“ . . . if I had great magic, I
would use it all the time.  I would make those mean Lumynari stop burning
villages and I would make my hair longer like yours, and I would make Prince
Aunsgar see me and I would have a horse and I would make animals talk to me but
mostly I would make Prince Aunsgar talk to me and walk with me in front of
every person who says I am ugly and dance with me around the fire but he would
not be allowed to dance with my sister because she says mean things and I do
not want her to hurt Prince Aunsgar’s feelings.”  Maira gulped air. 

Emily burst out laughing. “And I
thought I was the only one who talked in run-on sentences when nervous.”

“Run-on?”

“Nothing.  Long hair forever
tangles in the low branches of your forests, and itches my neck during
summers.  Now,” she smiled down at her new little friend.  “Tell me
about Aunsgar.”

“He is verra handsome. 
Na’Dryn says he will never marry me because I will never grow taller than a
tree stump.”

Emily’s borrowed mind squelched
vicious spells that could shrink the troublesome, beautiful, and very loved by
Broc, Na’Dryn into nothing more than a dung heap.  Emily would seriously
like to hold onto that spell.

“This is only your sixth winter. 
You aren’t finished growing.”

“Do you think he will be my
husband?”

“There is always a chance.”

“He is tall and his shoulders are
not as big as mi’ da’s, but he has pretty hair.  Da says a man does not
want pretty hair, he wants big shoulders.”

“Pretty hair?” a silky voice asked.

Startled, both females inhaled
sharply.  Wide-eyed, Maira stared up at Aunsgar.  The prince grinned
ruefully down at her.  Slipping longbow from his shoulder, he dropped
down, mindless of cold wet snow seeping through the knees of his
leggings.  For her own part, Emily could not stop staring at his
ears.  Definitely Elf.  Yet, the person she piggybacked lacked
surprise.

“You wish me for husband?”

The child nodded, her dark eyes
wide, her cheeks reddening and not from the cold.

“So be it.”

“You will have me?”

“I give my word.”

“Aunsgar, be careful your jests.”

“I do not jest.  Her name has
been whispered many times by Sister Wind.”

Aurelia snorted.  “Troublesome
fickle woman, that one.  Be wary any words she breathes.”

Aunsgar’s eyes glittered. 
“Ready to reveal her vision to your during our journey here?”

“I have forgotten it.”  Both
knew she lied.  Aunsgar chose to study the child instead of prying into
his niece’s private thoughts.

“I will need you a bit taller, for
walking on my knees would be most painful.”  His smile made both their
hearts warm.  “I will wait until you are grown, asking your decision
then.”

Aurelia lovingly caressed the small
girl’s head.  “You will have much to learn, becoming the wife of an Elf, and
marrying Aunsgar will make you a princess.  Much better than the position
your sister now holds.”

Maira squirmed.  “I have to
tell my kerna!”  Just like the wild maulkins, she hopped and bounded
through the snow towards her mother’s dwelling.  Abruptly, Maira whipped
around and ran back to them.  Shyly, she reached out trembling fingers,
delicately lifting Aunsgar’s white tresses.  “It is soft.  I told my
da’ it would be like feathers he gifts me from raids.  I told him you
would let me brush it while sitting in front of a fire and telling me about
your battles and your hunts and teaching me your pretty words.  I want to
be able to speak your language.  It is much nicer than mine.  My da’
says your hair is like your words and I will long for a real warrior . . . but,
I love you,” she finished in a hurried whisper.  Aunsgar untwined a silver
band from a long thin braid swinging from his temple and wrapped it at the end
of the little girl’s already loosening dark plait.

“My first gift to you, Princess
Maira,” he whispered, laughing when she threw her arms around his neck before
scurrying away to find her mother.

“Do not play with her heart,
Aunsgar.”

Quickly, Aurelia turned from him,
feigning interest in the solitary surviving rose.  Though small in
comparison to her garden in Quemori, Pendaran had thought of everything before
allowing the Outlander to come for her.  The castle, her gardens, even her
private solar—though now, it all belonged to Na’Dryn.

“A woman’s heart is not to be used
for manipulations and trickery.”  Aunsgar stood, brushing snow from his
knees, eyeing her with his double meaning.  “Her name whispered is not for
the joy I would gladly bring her one day, Aurelia.”

“Aunsgar, please, my head cannot
play your riddles today.”

“I bring her but a bit of happiness
before the sorrow.”

“Sickness?  No.” 
Aurelia’s lip quivered.  She threw up her hand.  “Stay your words,
Aunsgar.  I do not want to know.   The little one follows me,
taking forever to trust and venture from her shadows.”  Tears cascaded. 
“She may very well be the closest I come to a child of my own.”  Aurelia’s
head bowed, her voice catching.  “Immortality makes me barren.”

Aunsgar enveloped her in his
arms.  “If I could take you away from here, I would.  Cannot Pendaran
see you belong to another?  This human is not for you, Aurelia.”  The
prince closed his eyes, both of them remembering happier times.  For
Aunsgar, those memories slipped into recent revelations regarding Maira’s fate;
all of their fate.  And the strange word whispered of late, ‘Kit’, though
he had never heard of such a place.  What he did know, this strange word
was connected to the child, Maira.

Sniffling, Aurelia pulled
away.  “Men prepare horses and supplies—“

“Another village burns, Highness.”

“By the Gods, no.”  She deflated. 
“Their sicknesses, I can cure.  Their birthings, I can ease.  I even
help sow their fields.”  She shook her head, unable to stop the
tears.  “But their distrust of me increases as they seek Na’Dryn’s
counsel.” Chilled, she clasped her arms.  “Drakar again?”

“Ardra.”

“
Ardra
?”  Aurelia
balked, her voice lowering to a whisper.  “Do you think she senses you, as
you do her?”

The Elf prince shrugged. 
“Twin stars sailed across the heavens as you slept last eve.”

“Twins birthed or twins death,
twins together, sharing breath.”

He nodded.  “It is why I
sought you.  Your ability at prophecy excels my own.”

“If only I could see my own
fate.  For you, I do not see death surrounding you.”  She tossed her
long hair.  “Twin stars also warn of soulmates to meet, whether it be
their first or their last.  You and Maira?”

He shook his head and shrugged,
clearly frustrated.  “Ardra’s mind is madness.  For the moment, it is
all I can see.”

“Aunsgar?  Do you ride as
well?”

“I am sorry for it, but we’ve given
our word.  We bring Erchyll and any survivors back here.  We depart
on the morrow.”

“And Na’Dryn?”

“Aurelia . . .”  Aunsgar
turned away, but not before she spied anger.  It disgusted he and Urkani,
the female’s flaunt of position.  Gaunt, his niece no longer ate unless
Urkani stole herbs into her ale.  Urkani.  If given the order, his
commander stood ready to deliver Aurelia to the other.  Aunsgar awaited
his father’s council, Pendaran be damned.  The wizard had all but
abandoned them.  Far better for his niece to be with Prince Dezenial
again, though she would never remember their life together when she’d been the
druidess, Zaiyne.

“And Na’Dryn?”

Aunsgar sighed.  “The fool
Outlander has ordained her as mistress of his keep.”  His gloved fist
clenched.  “Many stand behind you, but many more place the death of allies
at your feet.”  His blue eyes glittered.  “I am sorry for it.” 
Again, he turned from her, unable to bear her ashen face; her disheartened
stare.

“Garreck is your champion.  He
rages Broc is fool to turn from you, and bellows the Outlander has no right to
bequeath a castle not his to give.  Reignsfeugh bellows the
opposite.  Better one of their own and the wrath of Pendaran versus the
daughter of a Lumynari who probably awaits opportunity to slaughter them as they
sleep.”  Aunsgar gazed longingly at the horizon.  “The Outlander is
beyond listening to reason.  Viewing death changes humans, Aurelia, but
what Lumynari leave behind tests even the endurance of my own guards.”

“You blame me as well?”

“Never!  But messages in the
stars I cannot ignore.  Broc’s men do not possess even hope against my
sister and the legion she amasses.  Erchyll’s village was one of the last
few remaining.  As winter chills the horizon, so too, it chills Lumynari
from more raids.  We can only hope this reasoning is sound.  If we
can replenish our stores, weapons, and gather as many men before spring brings
about fresh attacks, we might stand a—”

“I would not allow frigid winters
to waylay keeping watch.  Mayhaps, they think winter will bring about
laziness; thus, the perfect opportunity to finish us off.”

“Pendaran’s fortified you with a
castle—“

“That another has become chatelaine
to.”  Her chin raised a notch.  Her decision made during the long
cold night, she would not deter.  Upon Aunsgar’s departure, she too would
seek a new horizon for herself.  “Good journey, Aunsgar.” 

Voices faded into swirling mists as
Emily’s eyes fluttered open.  She lay there for many long moments,
pondering the strange dream before realizing the water had iced.

That was no dream.  Just as
sure as I’m freezing
,
that was a full blown vision
.  Emily held
no illusions.  She knew whomever that woman had been that she’d stepped
inside of, had been her in another lifetime.  Broc had betrayed Aurelia
with another woman; had broken her spirit.  All feared Pendaran, whomever
he was.  Aunsgar really was an Elf.  But one thing remained: who or
what were Lumynari?  And why did just the mention of them terrify her?

Her head would spun like
UFO’s.  She stuck her tongue out several times.  Two and half bottles
of scotch.  Her mouth felt like she’d licked the cat.  Emily gagged,
grinned though tears, envisioning Broc’s reaction if she retched all over
him.  In fact, the more the image took hold and grew, the harder she had
to fight back laughter.  A good teeth brushing should remove the film now
covering her tongue, throat, and gums.  And then, if she could just make
it back to the bed . . . maybe, the floor.  The floor would do.

Minty toothpaste, after swilling pure
scotch for the past several hours, elicited gagging.  She dashed for the
toilet.  Her throat flamed. 
I need milk
! 
Oh, God, my
throat’s on fire
!  The room dipped and swayed.  What the hell had
she been thinking?  More came up.  It didn’t seem like she’d drank as
much until that final tilt of the bottle.  Empty.  Ooops. 
Clattering bottles had caused her to quickly sit forward on the chaise. 
Too quickly.  The room spun and the fire roared.

Emily collapsed to her knees,
hugging the toilet.  “Please . . . God . . .” she gagged again and sank
lower to the tile, writhing, clutching her burning throat.  Empty stomach,
too much acid, undiluted whiskey—

“Help.”  Nothing more than a
croak.  She’d have to open the damn door.  Walls were not keeping up
with her.  Everything jilted into place a few seconds too late.  Her
stomach heaved until she thought her ribs would burst.  Spins took on more
speed.  White spots danced.

Pounding against the door made her
cry out.

“Lady Emily?”

“H-help.”  No good. 
Reaper-man couldn’t possibly hear her hoarse-whispers.  She gagged. 
Pure fire.  “HELP ME!”

More pounding.

“Help me!  Oh God, just help
me!”  She was sobbing.  No longer able to hold the toilet, she
collapsed to the floor.  Fire burned her stomach.  Her throat. 
She convulsed.  “Help me,” she whimpered.  Cold white tile seared her
cheek.  Soothing. 
So clean
. 
Pure white
. 
No
lint
. 
Strange thing to think about
.  Her stomach knotted.

“Emily!”

Rumbling in her stomach brought
about more dry heaving.

The door splintered and crashed.

“Emily!”

“Milk,” she whispered, heaving
again, clutching her stomach and tightening her fetal position.

“Ye’ little fool!”  Broc
stormed in, and scooped her up.  Cradling her against him, he charged from
her chambers.  It was a wonder he didn’t smash her skull against the now
ruined doorframe.  Her stomach knotted again.  Dry heaves attacked
with a vengeance.  She screamed, the pain so unreal, and clawed his shirt,
unaware the fine fabric tore.

“Garreck!”  Broc bellowed,
running now.

“Please, please.”  Emily tried
telling him to stop lurching her around.  Her head spun like mini tops
she’d foraged out of cereal boxes as a kid.  Her stomach tensed.

“Milord?”  Broc’s captain was
leaping up the stairs several at a time, Reignsfeugh and Aedan scuffing his
heels.  “What did ye’ do to her?”  Garreck eyed her, panicked.

“Urkani!  Now!  Tell him,
whiskey poison.  We’ve need of his—“

“I am here,” a voice evenly
announced.

“Not natural, the way they always
ken the goings on down here,” Reignsfeugh muttered.

“Oh my goodness!”  Maeve
stammered. She rushed ahead of Broc, pulling out a long bench.  “Sit here,
milord.”  Snatching a large bowl of garden greens, she tossed them out
onto the table and thrust the bowl at Aedan. “Hold this to her face.  I’ll
be right back.”

Aedan grimaced, but hurried to do
his mother’s bidding.  Emily, helpless, groaned, tears streaming down her
deathly pale face.  He’d been beside himself when she’d fallen to her
knees and crawled into the bathroom.  Hearing her sick and moaning behind
the closed door, he’d leapt off the bed, rushing to their laird.

No longer did she clutch her
stomach, her arms limp.  Again, she convulsed, her body flailing. 
Aedan thrust the bowl close to her mouth, dry heaves racking her body. 
She coughed hard, her eyes bulging.  Her long white hair trailed the
floor, limp as she.

“Here ye’ are, milord.”  Maeve
ran out from the kitchen corridor, a large tankard of water sloshing.  She
held it out as Urkani emptied a tiny leather pouch into it.  Gray powder
began to turn the water lavender in color as he muttered words over Emily,
holding the ancient vessel to her lips.

“Drink, my sweet.  It will
take away your pain and the sickness tha’ ails ye’,” Broc cajoled.

But Emily turned her head
away.  “Milk.”  She buried her face deeper into Broc.  “What is
he . . . saying?  Help me!”  She convulsed, again clawing at Broc’s
throat.  She couldn’t breathe!  Strangling.  Gasping. 
Gulping, she screamed, depleting her lungs.

Keer’dra.  Calm. 
Drink the Elf’s elixir. I command you to obey!

“Screw you!”  She
gagged.  “Get out of my head, fucknuts!”

“You will drink this now!” 
Urkani ordered, though he and Broc frowned at each other.

Emily snapped her face towards the
Elf.  “I’m gonna kick your—“

Urkani grasped a fistful of her
hair, yanked her head back, and forced the liquid down her throat.  Broc
clamped down his own grip as well.  Garreck held fast her flailing
arms.  “Forgive me, milady.  ‘Tis for yer’ own good,” he
muttered.  Aedan tossed the bowl, grabbing her bucking knees.

“Feisty, even when dyin’.  God
likes ‘em strong,” Erchyll blathered.  “Maybe she be one o’ those who
tosses people out o’ Heaven when they misbehave.”

Awful gagging and gulping sounds
filled the hall, everyone wondering if the lass was drowning; if Urkani should
be stopped.  None dared make a move.

Long white hair tickled her
fingers, though Broc still pinned her arms.  Emily grasped the ends of the
pale man’s hair, and, painful to her wrist, arched her appendage inward. 
Urkani’s howl and the sudden jerk of his head made the horrid drink worth the
suffrage.  Erchyll clapped wildly, dancing a jig, bandy bare legs twigging
out side-to-side from his long frock as he sang a ridiculous ditty.  The
more he sang, the louder he clapped. 

Reignsfeugh pried Urkani’s hair
from Emily’s fingers.  “S’blood, the lass be a feisty one!  Sorry,
lad, looks like ye’ lost some.”  He shouted laughter when Emily’s fist
tightened, holding strands of hair like a killing prize.  Erchyll’s
humming escalated into lunatic wailing.

Maeve had heard enough.  “Do
some prayin’, old fool, instead of all that yappin’!”

Aedan clamped down on Emily’s legs
even tighter.  “Maybe we should use Erchyll’s Holy water?” 

Erchyll stilled.  “I could get
it.  None of ye’ are ever gonna die.  Mi’ Holy water just sits. 
Wasted.  Do ye’ ken what I suffered through?  Carried it all the
way—“

“Tell me where it is that I may
douse ye’ wi’ it when I kill ye’ mi’ self!” Broc threatened through clenched
teeth.  The wee lass was brutal strong.

After much cursing, gagging, and
coercion, contents of the tankard were emptied down Emily’s gullet. 
Urkani released his hold.  Emily sputtered and glared up at her
assailant.  Bloodcurdling scream, inches from his face, had the desired
effect. 

Urkani
flinched
. 

Erchyll crossed himself, fell to
his knees, hands clasped, and commenced guttural praying.  “Elves never
flinch.  Bad omens.”  The priest rocked and wailed his prayers.

“Get up, fool!”  Broc shifted
Emily, watching her for telltale signs the elixir wasn’t going to stay in her
belly.  He also watched in case her eyes began to glow, sure she desired
nothing more than to skewer him.  Only Lumynari had glowing eyes of
amber.  Broc pushed the impossible to the far recesses of his mind. 
Lady Emily was a modern, not a Lumynari.  Twas a fluke of candlelight,
nothing more. 

The priest opened one eye, the
other twitching before following suit.  “I could get mi’ Holy water.”

“I’m killing albino man . . . but
you’re . . . first.”  Emily muttered, smacking Broc’s chest, not realizing
it was more of a soft pat.  Her head slumped against Broc’s
shoulder.  “You even smell like a Highlander.”  She giggled. 
“Can I play with your treasure trail?”  Her head lolled.  Quickly,
Broc shifted his arm, lest her neck snap.  His glare scalded his men.

“One word, and I kill the lot o’
ye’, burying ye’ in four corners of the world.”

Twitching mouths tightened. 
Or, at least, they tried to.

“She sleeps.  Her pain is
over.”  Urkani glowered at Garreck and Aedan who were chuckling.

“Aye,
Albino Man
, good thing
for ye’ she does.  Ye’ heard her.  Yer’ a dead mohn,” Reignsfeugh
reminded before looking to Broc.  “What does she mean, ye’ be smellin’
like a Highlander?”

“Not even by a hair’s breadth do I
fear the mortal,” Urkani announced, gathering his pouches.

“Ye’ pack yer poisons quick enough,
Elf,” Aedan said, laughter in his voice.  “What is this treasure
trail?  We be ‘avin treasure here?  Ye’ keepin’ secrets again,
laird?”  Aedan tapped Urkani’s shoulder just before the commander stood. 
“Sleep wi’ dagger or dirk, Elf.  I have seen the lass with blade.” 
His grin widened.  “Took on the laird wi’ out a flinch.”

Urkani glowered.  “Protection
of the prince is the only merit to draw weapon—“

“Her skill intimidates ye’.”

“Stop fussing.”  Maeve shoved
Aedan aside, then waggled her finger up at Urkani.  “You, tell me what you
gave her and your words so I ken what ta’ expect when the lass awakens.”

“She will sleep.  The woman
needs food.  And warmth.”  He glared at Broc.  “If you cannot
take adequate care of Princess Emily, perhaps she should be brought to Prince
Aunsgar’s towers?”

“Ye’ stand in mi’ hall, daring—“

“Broc!”  Aunsgar called. 
“He means but to protect her.”  The prince strode down final stairs,
joining them.

“I canna control the wee lass’
temper.  She swilled damned near three bottles.”  Broc ginned. 
“Never seen the likes, ‘cept from the lads.”

Erchyll draped a plaid over
Emily.  “Gluttony is a sin.”

Broc eyed him speculatively. 
“So is drowning a priest.”

“Broc?”  Emily whispered.

The laird eyeballed Urkani.

The commander remained
indifferent.  “She is stronger than I presumed.”

“Aye, love?”

Laird MacLarrin ignored elbowing of
ribs and  ridiculous grinning.

“Bed.  Please.  So
cold.  Wanna lie down.  Tell him . . . thank you.  Fire
stopped.”

Urkani stepped closer and placed
his hand on Emily’s brow.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Urkani yanked his hand back,
examining the appendage as if bitten.  Emily dropped her head back against
Broc, deeply slumbering.  A contended sigh escaped her.

“What
exactly
are the uses
of that Holy water,” Aedan whispered.  Several ‘ayes’ followed. 
Urkani muttered incoherent words, though he kept his distance. 

“She should awaken without pain to
her head, though her stomach will ache for a pair of days.”  Urkani looked
to Maeve.  “Your stew and bread will do wonders.”

“Ye’ ‘avin’ a taste for it?” 
Maeve grinned.  “Ye’ and Aurelia used to argue.  I remember raging
battles oft led to weapons drawn, Aunsgar yer’ mediator.”  The elder woman
nodded approvingly.  “The soul remembers.”

Urkani looked at her most
oddly.  “The weather turns frigid here.”

“I’ll ‘ave the lads bring ye’ a pot
o’ mi’ finest O’Shay stew—“

“Kitty soup,” Emily giggled softly,
nuzzling into Broc.

“Tomorrow noon,” Maeve finished,
staring oddly at Emily.  “I’m in your debt, Urkani.  Get her
upstairs, milord.”  She pushed on Broc’s shoulder, nudging him towards the
stairs.

“As am I, spell caster,” Broc
announced, rising and clasping his charge closer, moving steadily towards the
stairs.  “Aedan, yer’ mistress, I’m sure, will arise in several hours,
wondering about her mouser.  Seems she’s become quite fond of the beast.”

Aedan bared his teeth, hissing
towards those guffawing before he trotted up the stairs, trailing his laird.