Shadows of the Keeper (34 page)

“And what of Drakar’s kingdom?”

“You have sampled his
kingdom. 
Sampled
, Princess Emily, but not truly tasted.  Be
glad you still possess lingering fantasies about your
Oreos
.” 
Dezenial reclined against his high-backed chair.  “Had he arrived in time
and taken possession of you . . . “

The tall proud Lumynari’s gaze
snapped to view below their dining terrace.  Emily watched as a vicious
scowl covered his face.  Something enraged him.  She was tempted to
stand, come around to where he sat and look as well, but maybe, here, it was
best to shut up and color.

“Why
did
you allow yourself
to be captured by his patrol?  What if they’d kept you in a separate
cell?”

Withering attention swerved back to
her, his voice cold.  “
His
patrol?”

Emily shrugged.  “I don’t know
all the intricacies down here in Hell-Fest.”

“You land-dwellers have your money
and gold.  We too have things in which to barter with.  Let’s just
say I paid my way into your cell.”

Emily snorted.  “Did you pay
for that beating as well?”

He lurched viciously.  Emily
slammed back against her chair.  Their audience perked up, highly
interested. 

“Never take another beating for me
again.  I did not accede to be a prisoner to save your neck just to have
you throw it away on some fool mission to save mine.”

“Back off, Lumynari, before I show
you foolishness beyond your cruelest comprehension.”  Second nature, her
hand clasped tightly around her dinner blade.

His brow arched.

Her grip squeezed.

A hand clasped her shoulder. 
She didn’t need to look to know it was Inzyr staying her murderous
temper.  Her impudence earned grins, and titters.  She offered a
scathing look in return.  A simple glance challenged them, did it? 
And who should be returning her glare with dripping contempt?  None other
than Ms. Shit Tits.  Emily refused to cow down to the tramp. 

“You wanna fuck him, you have to
take him first, bitch.”

Dezenial choked.

Perfect tits anorexia queen lowered
her goblet.  “Did you dare speak to
me
?”

“Though the males here apparently
enjoy keeping company with a bitch in heat, I’ll have you lapping from a dog’s
bowl.”  Ignoring the tightening of Inzyr’s hand on her shoulder, Emily
nonchalantly crossed her leg, the slit in her dress riding higher.  As the
woman across from her began a garbled attack on Dezenial, Emily’s table partner
suddenly appreciated his view of exposed human flesh.  She felt Dezenial
watching her; felt his silent threat against the male sitting next to
her.  Ever-so-slightly, she shifted, the dress falling away from her thigh
even more.  One did not need to look to know the Shadow Master’s eyes
currently burned crimson, their fierceness illuminating when the beast next to
her openly grinned, admiring his view. 

Inzyr electrified.

Emily felt the air tighten behind
her where the assassin remained.  Weird that she could hone in on his
emotions.  The entire retinue of dinner guests seemed to be holding their
breath.  DEATH hung a neon sign that it was now open for business. 
The visual standoff between Emily and the Lumynari woman remained
unwavering.  Darkness engulfed Emily’s peripherals.

The female was ominously
cloaked.  Nervously, she spoke with another . . . squatter in build. 
Emily’s eyes narrowed.  His face turned towards her—the cell guard she’d torched! 
Another tunnel.  An odd rock formation.  No, that’s not right . . . a
door, of sorts.  A facially scarred Lumynari stepped out. 
Laughter.  Embracing the woman sitting across from her, they stepped
arm-in-arm through a slight opening.  Scraping.  Emily wanted to
cover her ears.  Nails down a chalkboard scraping.  The rock-door
slid back in place.  Another look and none would be the wiser it actually
opened.  Secret tunnels.  Emily glanced over her shoulder. 
Which
way?  Which way?  I’m lost!
No!
  Mist.  A woman
stepping from it, beckoning. 
Aurelia
?

“Keer’dra.”  Dezenial found
himself closed off from her mind.  He’d felt her slipping into her hidden power. 
Visual command, and Inzyr dropped his blade between Emily and the Shadow Master
who’d been ogling her thigh.  Another visual command, and the fool no
longer owned a head.  Inzyr’s searing blade cauterizing as it
sliced.  Fear silenced the diners.  Each suddenly understood, this
had been an invitation to their possible assassination.

Emily remained oblivious.

“Jin deasep semfi,” Emily stated
very matter-of-factly.  She didn’t blink.

Dezenial tensed.  Perfect
Balkorian. 
I despise deceit
. There remained no misunderstanding of
Emily’s words or accusation.  The only visible movement from Inzyr was his
amber eyes drifting across the table to imprison the female.  Tension
thickened, none daring to move.  The assassin’s skilled cruelty was legendary—as
had just been exhibited, the body now dragged off by wait staff.  That
their goddess, Shadow, granted Inzyr a wide berth warned he was not to be
trifled with.

Emily’s thoughts once again flooded
Dezenial’s.  She’d seen what he could not, even with his ability at
ancient magicks.  He had suspected, but lacked opportunities to catch the
conniver in the act.  Now, his woman had quite possibly sealed her own
death by uncovering what spies had failed to; or they danced to a higher
payoff.  Worth Inzyr looking into, but, for now, he needed to diffuse an
explosive situation.  His Emily was still healing.  Though her flesh
wounds were no longer evident, she required more time for emotional recovery;
to understand she was both cherished and
belonged
.  To him.

Dezenial’s dark hand raised, strong
fingers gingerly trailing her cheek.  Instinctively, she nuzzled
her face against his roughened hand.  Palpable surprise rippled up
and down the length of the table. 
This
was no concubine.  A
few sat straighter.  Rumor was now truth. 
This
was the
sorceress their goddess hunted.  This was the druidess who’s ancient soul
their goddess sought to harness, and promised riches beyond comprehension to
any who brought the mortal to her.

And here Shadow’s son sat, dining
and coveting the despised enemy of his mother.

 Emily gave a quick shake of
her head.  “Dez?”  She pulled away from his touch and pretended to
smooth imaginary wrinkles in her dress while tamping down the odd flutters in
her abdomen.  His touch was flame, and she was the moth.  She looked
up.  And wished she hadn’t.  His eyes enthralled her.  Azure
blue and almond shaped, he was wicked-handsome.  Nah,
hot
was more
appropriate.  Blushing, she averted her gaze.  She loved him. 
God help her.

“Do you hear yourself, when you speak
in anger, the language you take?” 

Ah, Keer’dra.  Do you not
know my heart beats for you as well?  But I cannot, will not, speak the
words you long to hear.  Protect you, yes, but love you from afar is all I
will allow myself.  For your sake.  My realm has already come too
close to forever diffusing your light. 
None of this, did he allow her
to hear from his mind, nor his lips. Almost, Dezenial could hear his father’s
mocking laughter.

Or was it his own conscious?

“Language?”

“You spoke in the language of
Balkore.  Not Var’dri, Emily, but pure Balkorian—
ancient
Balkorian.”

Emily eyed the guests at the
table.  Rage, amusement, and curiosity stared back.  And then her
attention came to rest on the puddle of blood where a being once sat next to
her.  And a smeared trail of it leading away.  She looked up at
Inzyr.  “Do I wanna know?”

“I don’t know, do you?”

“I bet you pee on picnics, don’t
you?”  She didn’t bother waiting for his answer. 

A loud clap slapped down on the
table.  Emily could swear she jumped six feet.

“I will have retribution for the
insult your human has dared upon me!”

Emily slowly smiled.  “I did
not insult you, bitch, I spoke truths.  Tell me, spy, was it your lover I
burned to a quaking heap of charred flesh, or do you still drop to your knees
for Drakar, suckling from him as he commands what your next mission will
be?”  Emily slowly stood amidst gasps and hissed murmuring.  “Is that
your reward for turning against those offering a peaceful kingdom to reside in,
you upon your back while Drakar ruts?”

“Just Emily,” Inzyr muttered. 

The female hissed.  Dezenial
had stood, and now moved away.  His guests took his cue and vacated from
the long table as well, lifting chairs back with them.  Grand royal table
now stood as a makeshift battle-stage.  That their prince wasn’t shielding
his human from Shelene’s attack increased their intrigue.  Discreetly,
wagers were placed. 

Emily understood every word, and
the various languages they were spoken in.  The peculiar sensation of fury
beckoned her to allow its unleashing.  She was coming to understand it
kept her safe in a world that had long ago gone mad.  Her head dropped down a
bit, eyes narrowing savagely upon her adversary.

“I call challenge,” Shelene said
loudly.

“
You
?” Emily’s throaty laugh
carried across to her enemy.  “
Challenge
me?”

“You cannot challenge a guest of
mine, Shelene, and you know it.”

“I can kill her now, or I can kill
her when she least expects it.”  She tossed silken white hair shrouding
fine-boned shoulders.  “But, die by my hand, she will.  I don’t care
who you are,
Prince
Dezenial.”  Jagged blade manifested into
Shelene’s hand.  A foot long, its double serrated edges promised it was no
weapon made for a simple brawl. 

Retribution for her slur should be
his, but Dezenial desired this particular group to gain firsthand knowledge of
what he himself already knew about Emily.  He stepped further away from
his hellcat.  These were Balkore’s deadliest, and perhaps most
treacherous.  He tempered his anger with amusement.  How soon before
he would have to act upon his chosen fate, revealing his true form?  He
watched Emily remain passive, a smile tugging her lips.  Several gasped,
pointing at her, whispering more frantically.  Emily hardly
noticed.   Even Inzyr registered surprise, aiming lethal crossbow at
Shelene’s head.  “Her eyes glow, yet this time in anger, not in healing,”
Inzyr said, revealing a bit of awe in his voice.

“And this surprises you? 
You
of all Lumynari?”  Dezenial moved to stand closer to the assassin, arms folded. 
Amber fire burned in place of Emily’s eyes.  Dezenial grinned.  There was
no humor in his smile.  “She will handle the challenge.”  He nudged his chin to
indicate Inzyr’s weapon.  “You won’t need that.”

Shelene’s temper flared. 
“Your human possesses a few tricks of sorcery, and you think to set her lose
against me?”  She launched onto the table.  “Choose your weapon,
Emily.  I have suffered insult eating at the same table.  I will not
suffer insult you dare brand me as spy.”  Another weapon manifested in
Shelene’s free hand.  “I understand you are familiar with whips?” 
The Lumynari laughed outright, though her eyes remained watchful of
Dezenial.  “Will you defend your whore, or will you—“

“Do you always babble before
battle?  I wonder that you are not yet dead.”  Emily arched a pale
brow, her hair erupting into crackling white flame.  Shadow Masters reared
and threw up their arms to deflect the brightness.  The contrast of white
flame against her sapphire gown created a deadly beauty much admired by the
Lumynari warriors now slowly lowering their arms in order to better view this
unforeseen entertainment. 

“You have lost your opportunity to
choose your weapon,” Shelene hissed.  Deadly whip snaked out before any
could shout warning.  Deftly, Emily torqued her body sideways, barely
missing the stinging leathers.  And then she defied the expectations of
present spectators who were already enthralled that a human could have eyes and
hair aflame likened to only their highest elevated priestesses.  Save for
one. 
He
merely smiled.

She reached out, wrist snapping
quicker than flicker of light, and snatched the leathers sailing past in its
retraction towards its host.  A sharp yank, and the weapon freed itself
from the Lumynari.  Howling with rage, the warrior jumped from the table,
another dagger manifesting.

Inzyr moved to intervene.
 Dezenial’s hand snaked out, grasping the assassin.

“She will be killed.”

“Observe,” Dezenial commanded,
grinning mischievously.  “
You
will be most proud.” 

Shelene advanced, slicing air to
intimidate, her steps overconfident.

Emily smacked her hands together .
. . slowly pulled them apart . . . blue flames erupting between her
palms.  Flames spread to her forearms until she held in her hands, a
large, pulsating brilliant blue ball of flame.  Both her audience and
Shelene were momentarily mesmerized.

Emily threw the flame at Shelene.

Daggers clattered.  Hideous
screams filled the air.  Powerful fire catapulted Shelene up onto the
table where she crashed down on her back.  Emily lifted her elegant hem,
used her vacated chair to step up onto the table, her own daggers manifesting
in each hand.  She walked the length of the table, looking to each
side.  “Any others wishing to dance?” 

None dared accept her challenge.

None possessed the power to do so.

“Her training begins immediately,”
Dezenial commanded of the assassin.  To surrounding warriors, he announced
their meal was now concluded.  A few looked tempted to try their hand at
battling the fierce warrior calling challenge.

“I will exterminate your entire
lineage, should you make good her threat.”

Immediately, they dropped their
interest. 

“Does she realize what she
does?”  Inzyr asked.

“More and more.”  Dezenial
moved closer to the table.  “Keer’dra.”

“Curious,” Inzyr said, slipping
into the secret language of gods.  “If Aurelia was granted such power
only
after training for a decade under the tutelage of her Elders, who has granted
our Emily hers?”

“You forget who Zaiyne’s father
was.  Why do you think the other protects her during each journey she
returns from the dead to walk amongst us yet again?”

“Impossible,” Inzyr hissed. 
“I was there.  I know who
Emily’s
sire is.”

“Ah, but the power remains. 
Same soul.”  Dezenial again called to his beloved.  “Keer’dra.”

The warrior muttered words in a
language she failed to understand.  Fury surged.  “You!”  She
stormed the distance until towering over him.  “You will be fool enough to
challenge me?”  Her voice dropped down to a whisper.  “Do I see anger
leaping into your eyes?”  She motioned with her daggers, encouraging him
to leap upon the table.  Instead, his voice escalated, his audience
unleashing weapons hidden upon their persons.  Inzyr shouted.  His
eyes exhibited . . . alarm?  Her gaze returned to Dezenial. 
What
the hell was he shouting
?  “You don’t expect me to understand that
shit, do you?”  She realized she was standing . . .
on
the
table.  “What the hell am I doing . . . up . . .” Awful stench. 
Burning heap.  A body.

“Dez?”  She looked to her
hands.  Blades.  They clattered.  “I got mad again, huh?”

“I’d hate to see rage.”  He
tried very hard not to laugh.  “Keer’dra’.”  He reached up for her.

“My head.”  Her eyes watered,
lips quivering.  “Pain.”

“I know, little one.  Come to
me, Keer’dra.  I will heal you.”

Emily bent, reaching for him,
wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her.  She rested her
forehead against the throbbing pulse beating in his very warm neck.