Shadows of the Keeper (25 page)

“You feel the magic it contains?”

Emily’s eyes watered.

“You remember?”

“I should.  Your Pendaran gave
me one identical to this before dropping me off at the airport.”

“Strange words, your speech
contains.  What would Pendaran have to do with this?  It was a gift
from your father—I have blundered again and request your sympathies. 
Aurelia, it was a gift from Aurelia’s sire.”

“Explain, computer.”

“Computer?”

“Humor.  Just tell me.”

“King Breton was high Elf.  He
fashioned that amulet upon your birth for you to wear always.  It keeps
evil at bay.”

“Funny, when I was wearing its
twin, the one your Pendaran—“

“He does not belong to me.”

Emily shrugged.  “I wasn’t
exactly safe.  I had a ghost run me off the road, nearly killing me. 
They claim,” she snorted, “I suffered a broken neck.”  Emily rolled her
eyes.  Placing the amulet back in the tiny chest, she settled the small
box back into the larger trunk.  “One does not simply sleep off a broken
neck.”

“Great magic is interweaved with
your aura.  Much light surrounds you, but I am unable to discern how.”

“Yeah, so I’ve been told.”

“You should wear the amulet.”

“Not mine to wear.”

I’m not Aurelia.  Fed up
with everyone holding their breath, waiting for me to suddenly rear my head,
exclaim I’m the long awaited queen, and step right into a role I’ve no idea how
to fulfill.

“I sense a heaviness within you,
Lady Emily.  Why do you deny who you are?”

“In my time, reincarnation is
shunned and laughed at.”

“I see.  Do they burn you for
believing?”

“Like witches?”

“Yes.”

“No, just roll their eyes and avoid
you.  And we no longer burn witches, if there really are any.”

“Shunned.  I see.  No
better than burning, not really.  Once, my lady, your powers were revered,
never laughed at.  I assure you, when you come into your full awakening,
you will not be shunned, but embraced.”

“You make it sound so wonderful,
but I have to be honest, Blade, it can’t be all that if Aunsgar and Broc become
hush-hush towards my questions.”

“Their knowledge of your true power
has its limits, though I suspect Aunsgar thinks to be protecting you.”

“Like how he protected Aurelia by
burying you?”

“I concede your observation has
grand merit.”

“I wonder how history would have
played out, had you been around when Lumynari attacked the keep that day. 
The bodies, the children, Aedan’s wounded—oh, shit, there’s a warrior, crazed,
coming at Maeve.  He’d going to kill her!  Where’s Ardra?  I know she’s here! 
Must . . . save Maeve.  She was kind when Na’Dryn—Blade!”

“You are awakening.”

“I can see everything as if I’m
standing right there.  I even know names!”  Emily rubbed her arms,
deeply chilled.  “So, that’s what Lumynari look like?  They seem more
abhorrent than Dezenial did.  These visions . . . it’s as if I’ve just left the
theater after seeing some farfetched movie.”

“I do not understand this
‘movie’.  Tell me what you see.  I was not present.”

“I’ve pierced one of those shadow
warriors—“

“Shadow
Master
. 
They’re not to be trifled with.”

“Well, my sword has just opened up
his windpipe.  Eeeewww!”  Suddenly, she arched, pain in her back
searing.  “I’m lying down.  Pain.  Hurts to breathe.”

“Where is the Outlander? 
Aunsgar?”

“Broc seethes.”  She
frowned.  “No one moves.  They’re oddly still.  As if someone
hit pause.”

“Pause?”

“Like statues.”

“Great magic.  If Ardra is
present, it is no wonder.”

“Lumynari are everywhere, hundreds
of them.”  Emily gasped.  Leaning down over her, cradling her, a face
haunting her every moment.  Heartache amplified.  “Dezenial.” 
Whispering his name brought tears.  “He whispers words I can’t decipher.”

“Take my hilt that I may share your
vision.”

Emily complied.

“He calls upon ancient magicks to
ease your pain.”

The scene began to mist over.

“This must be the moment you
crossed over into Otherworld.”

Emily released Blade. 
“Otherworld?”

“An in-between of sorts until such
time as Aurelia’s rebirthing.”

“Blade?”

“Aye, mi' lady?”

“I am not Aurelia.”

“That is where you are wrong. 
You are one and the same.  You may be Emily in the here and now, with new
traits adapted and learned from this age you find yourself in, but know this,
High Queen of Quemori, within you lies dormant a power such as none in your
time are obviously exposed to.  From what you’ve told me, it would seem
your kind now shuns their past  as well as the bards telling of great
victories, kingdoms lost, and legends.”

“We no longer have bards.” 
High
Queen?  What the hell?

“Who recounts your histories?”

“Historians. 
Archeologists.  Books.  Internet.”

“It is my hope we commence lessons
of this present era in a very near future.”  He sighed.  “The Elders,
even in Aurelia’s time, were becoming nothing more than legend.  It was
why a Keeper was needed.  The Elders knew their time was ending, that they
would need to remain dormant in order to remain safe.”

“Safe?  If they’re all
powerful, then what could possibly harm them?”

“Hunters from our home world. 
We are not from here.”

“Yeah, that was glossed over when
things were briefly explained before.”

“We are from further away than
merely looking up into your stars.”

Emily’s hand shot up, staying
Blade’s tale.  “Brain overload.  Another time.  For now, I think
we need to get a move on.”

“Yes, I was about to ask if you
wished to continue your escape.”

Emily’s chin jutted in
defiance.  “I’m not running.  I’m simply exploring my options.”

“You may wish to broaden your
exploration, and hope for better
options
.  We are about to have
company.”

“Blade, you said they were
outdoors.  You said they wouldn’t—“

“That was before Aunsgar began
tracking you.”

“Tracking—“

“Elvish eyesight is uncanny when it
comes to tracking their quarry.”

Emily turned and stared at the
door.  “Lucky me.”

“He stalks the stairwell as we
speak.  He is followed by several Elves. I assure you, Aunsgar’s mood is
not for taking the noon meal with.”

Emily grinned.  “You mean,
he’s actually angry?  This might be worth sticking around to
witness.  They never seem to have much in the way of emotions.”

“May I suggest we make haste?”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse than you can know.”

Emily lunged, grabbed Blade’s hilt
and observed through his strange power of sight.  Aunsgar and a dozen or
so men and Elves surged the stairs, Broc amongst them.  Rage upon his
face—he clutched his sword!  “Is he coming to find me, or to remove my
head?”

“He is Outlander.  The latter
would be his preference, when enraged.  A foul breed they be.  I
warned Pendaran that he erred in his decision to grant Forest Lords
guardianship over you.  The Lumynari prince was better suited for you, but
in their world—“

Emily squeezed the hilt as tightly
as humanly possible.

“I recant long tales best saved for
another time.”

“Aye, Blade.  Tell me, why
would a man be so enraged when seeking the castle whore, that he hunts her down
with drawn sword?”

“Perhaps he fears you . . . did I
hear you correctly?  Why would you disgrace yourself with such a
benevolent title?”

Pounding upon the wood door made
Emily yelp.  Muffled shouting erupted from the other side.  She could
make out the word ‘door’ and her name.  It wasn’t hard to surmise their
request.

“May we leave?”

“Definitely,” Emily stated. 
Several tugs were required before she and Blade could slip out through the rot-swollen
door.  “I’m not going to be able to hold you and crawl.  Can you see
through that opposite door?”

“I remain blind to its
holdings.  I am sorry, my lady.”

“Crawling along on this stone is
murder to my knees.”

“Shall I carry you?”

“No.”  Emily searched either
side of the crawl space.  She reached out, but felt no wall.  “Blade,
can you make it brighter in here?”  She glanced behind her, but the small
door they’d escaped through was completely invisible in this near pitch black she
found herself in.

“I would not suggest it.  I do
wholeheartedly propose you to station your hands in front of you for balance
and brace.”

Emily stilled.  Something was
very
wrong.  “Blade, I command you make it brighter in here!”

Blade’s voice was coolly
disapproving.  “Very well.”  Silvery light radiated from the
sword.  “Keep moving, milady.”

Emily ignored him.  She didn’t
like what she was feeling.  Daring to confirm her suspicions, she looked
over the edge of where she crawled—and dropped down upon her chest, flattening
her body, hugging the crawl space. 

On either side of her yawned a
great chasm.  She was on a makeshift stone bridge, and could very possibly
plunge to her death!  “What the hell was I thinking?  What the hell
was
Broc
thinking when he built this? Are you
trying
to get me
killed?”

Blade hovered directly over
her.  “You must crawl.  Just do not look down.  Simple
enough.  Once, you would have danced across something like this.”

“Very . . . funny.”

“Take my hilt.”

Emily refused to move.  Even
blinking might spill her over the side.  “I will lay here and let Broc
rescue me.”

“I will
not
allow the
Outlander to find you like this!  I have respected your wishes and strayed
from your mind, but not before hearing through you his contempt and vile
words.  You are not meant for him.  You never were.  Now, take
my hilt!”  Blade shimmied under her fingers.  Relieved, she wrapped
each one around his black leather hilt.  And squeezed for dear life. 
Immediately, she was lifted, face down, and floated across like a corpse in
water. 

“Remind me to ask how you do this.”

“Do not let go,” he warned.

“Hadn’t planned on it.”

Behind them, the distinct crash of
door splintering echoed.

“Oh boy.  You better hope our
next door opens.”

Cacophony of shouting ruptured from
the chamber they’d luckily vacated long, long moments earlier.

“You can stand here.  There
seems to be a very wide ledge.”

“Not on your life.”

“The tunnel sweeps upward. You will
be safe enough.”

Emily shook her head.  “I’ll
fall to my death.”

“Well, not exactly.”

“What? Oh, you mean I’ll just step
into my next life? Don’t feel much like experiencing the pain of leaving this
one.”

“I cannot open doors.  We will
require use of your hands.”

Emily grimaced.  “Oh, well,
got me there.”  A cursory glance and then, “There lacks a door handle.”

“Elvish inscription.”

“I can barely speak their language
let alone read it.”  She studied the loopy letters.  “Sure is pretty,
the way they write.”  On her knees, she scuttled closer.  With her
finger, she traced looping silver language of the Elves.  Sheepishly, she
smiled up at Blade.  “Worked when I set you—“

Clicks and popping sounds erupted
finalizing with a great sound of suction; the small door popped open a mere two
inches.

“It would seem you are a key for a
great many things, not just an iron box.”

“Lucky me.  Shall we visit
Fort Knox?”

“I am not familiar with that
country.”

“Not a country.  A place where
we keep gold.
Lots
of gold.”

“I like gold.”

Emily pushed hard, nearly
whiplashing the door.  “Oops.  Thought it was gonna be difficult like
the other one.”  Damn thing nearly batter-rammed her.

“Allow me entrance first, my
lady.”  Blade slipped in beside Emily.  Behind her, echoes of the
door being kicked followed by shouts and curses sounded extra loud in this odd
chamber of death defying height.  Chill and gripping fear
returned—tenfold.

“Screw this,” she muttered and
scrambled in after Blade.

Emily rooted on a small ledge she’d
stepped out onto.  She knew she looked ridiculous, her mouth hanging open,
but it couldn’t be helped.  Shelves overflowed with
thousands
of
bound tomes.  But, what drew her attention most, her marvel, her fear, her
awe . . . a life-size painting.

Her likeness.

Literally.

Garbed similar to how Aunsgar
dressed, sword grasped in her hand, bright white hair cascading as far down as
her knees, Emily gaped at her twin.  “It’s me,” Emily whispered.

“Princess Aurelia.”

“No wonder everyone is—“

“Emily!”

Her lip curled.  Oh-so-slowly,
she turned.  Broc’s torch silhouetted him in the pitch black.  Cold
fury, such as she’d never felt, settled a deadly calm around her.  “Close
the door, Blade.”

“As you command.”  She jumped
down atop a table as Blade whisked past her, and gave the door a solid pounding
with his hilt. 

The door slammed shut, closing on a
life she hoped never to see again.

She reverted her attention to the
painting.  “Spooky. She and I could be twins.  To be reincarnated as,
basically, the exact duplicate of someone who has lived before . . . kinda
creepy, Blade.”

“Except, my lady, there are vast
differences between the two of you.”

“Yeah?  Like what?”

“You are kinder, gentler, and
though—“

“I think that’s one of the nicest
things anyone has ever said to me.”

“Aurelia was trained from cradle
until coffin to be a warrior, a queen, and never allowed to put herself first,
nor feel the situation.  She was expected to act, to mete out
resolutions.”

“Isolated.  Frustrated.” 
Emily stared up at her likeness before whispering, “I don’t know if I would
survive it.”

“And there is the difference I
spoke of.  You find it acceptable to have faults. Aurelia allowed herself
none.  And tolerated none in others, if they were in commanding positions
to lead.”

“Falling on our face is how we
understand what others do.  To be perfect, well, how are you going to
understand faults if you don’t allow any for yourself?”

Blade turned so that his point now
stared at Emily.  “I think, if I may be so bold as to say this aloud, I
rather like who you are in this life.”

Emily curtsied, then laughed
easily.

And that’s when bone numbing cold
assaulted her.  Fear, the kind she used to feel sometimes when living
alone and a particular corner in her house seemed darker than usual, skittered
up her spine and squeezed her nape.  “They might be gaining on us. 
We should probably go.  Where are we, any idea?  Might help to know
so we can figure out our next route.”

“Elvish chambers, to be sure. 
A Memory Room, is what they used to call these.  Only Elder Elves have
these, centuries of their histories collected and entrusted to their
care.  Elven magic surrounds us.  Perhaps this is what you sense?”

Emily gave a slow shake of her
head, eyes wandering over cathedral high bookcases fashioned to resemble tree
branches.  And all done in palest cream and silver.  It had to be the
most beautiful room she’d ever seen.  “This room is beauty,” she said in
awe.  “What I feel is darkness.  Fear.  As if we’re in a
cemetery on a moonless night.  And there’s footsteps.  Coming
closer.  It’s not Broc chasing us.  This is more . . .
predatory.”