Shadows of the Keeper (51 page)

“Emily.”

She raised her face.  He was
but a blur.

Flowers he clutched met their final
resting place upon cold tiled floor as he charged her, sweeping her up into his
arms.  “Grieve as I watch over ye’, lass.”  He squeezed her to him,
nestling her in the cocoon of his arms.  She burrowed deeply into warmth
of his embrace, her heart pouring from her eyes and onto his neck as he carried
her from her tiny eating area.

“Ye’ have neighbors poundin’ yer’
door several times a day.”

“Feed them to Eldaryn.”

Male laughter filled her bedroom.

“I don’t feel well, Broc. 
Even a simple shower is taxing.  I’m so tired, and sick . . . so damn
sick.  Do you know what it’s like to smell everything that is foul? 
I swear, I can smell the streets from in here!”

“The odors are very ripe, I will
agree,” Eldaryn announced, nosing open her door.  Behind him, Cianna
carried in a tray.  “I thought after a week of being here, I would
acclimate.”

“A tea I’ve been assured will ease
your sickness,” Cianna offered softly.  Emily raised up a bit, the effort
making her wobbly.  Broc rushed over with the makeshift chamber pot, a
small wastebasket lined with plastic bag, fearing she would be ill again.

“I ken Maeve would be hovering with
her brews of teas and coffees—“

“Ugh.  No coffee.”  Emily
shuddered.  “The thought of it makes me ill.”  She smiled weakly at
Broc’s dubious gape.

“You need not worry about finishing
the contents.  Its potency works in small doses.”  Cianna passed the
steaming brew to Emily, who sniffed it cautiously.  “Your
highness
,
I would never think to poison you.”

“I was curious about the new
smell.  Spicy.  Nutmeg, and . . . what?”

“A few things I brought with me and
a few things Urkani insisted upon.”  Her friend smiled, bowing and backing
towards the door.

“Cianna?”

Hesitantly, the woman glanced up
from her prostrate position.

“A different era.  You
promised you’d try.  You’re my dearest friend, not my servant.  And .
. . I hope an aunt or godparent to my babies.”

Cianna’s eyes filled with
tears.  She nodded several times before finally finding her voice. 
“You gift me with the highest honor.  I am . . . flattered.”  She
blushed.  “Forgive me.”  She rose, and with head held high, nervous
in the effort of breaking a long habit, Cianna did as Emily had days earlier
requested: she walked with dignity, her back to the occupants, out the bedroom
door.  Emily smiled, though briefly, remembering Cianna’s small
revelation.  A dark time, Lumynari forever stepping from shadows to remind
her of her position as a lowly servant.  Never, could she reveal her true
identity.  Emily didn’t ask, sensing profound privacy in this woman. 
Prince Dezenial had never treated her with anything but kindness, but those
dark times . . . until Lord Inzyr had forced the prince to return, had been
unspeakable.  Emily hoped one day her friend would confide all.

She sipped her tea.  “Did you
sample this?”

“Lapped from a bowl upon the floor
like a common household pet.”  Eldaryn winced.  Broc snickered.

“How’s the enchantress’s brew,
lass?”

“Warm and soothing.  My
insides are finally settling.  Think I’ll even attempt a shower and
something with my hair.”

Eldaryn sniffed loudly, both heads
partaking in this noisy chore.  “A shower would be wise.  You could
alert the enemy where you are—“

Emily fisted her hand then opened
it quickly.  Blue flame sparked.  Rolling her fingers, flames grew
and danced.  Broc shifted uncomfortably.  Eldaryn released a
disgusted sigh, turned several circles at the end of her bed—

“You’re going to make me spill this
tea!”

“Then I suggest you stop showing
off like a child with a new toy, and hold your cup with two hands.”

Bedframe cracked.

It was their only warning.

With a loud crash, the foot of her
bed hit the floor and remained at an odd angle.  “Great, Eldaryn. 
Remind me to thank you.”

“Ye’ fecker, ye’ve—

Emily burst out laughing. 
“Sorry.  Your brogue and pronunciation of dirty words kills me.”

Broc’s lopsided grin provided
another laugh.

Nonplussed, the beast settled. 
One head lifted, forever alert, the other nestled on thick paws.  “A word
to the wise, Dezenial’s mate, I like my fur.  I’m especially fond of its
clean scent.  Burnt fur is not something I wish to be burdened with
again—“

“Again?”

“You do recall who my master
was?  A particular
moody
Lumynari?  Burnt fur is not something
I will endure, just as I’m sure you do not want to endure a wooden leg the rest
of your life.”

“Dare to bite, pooch, and—“

“Yes, I know.  Puppy
pâté
.”

“I hate that dog,” Emily quipped to
Broc.

“I’m still stuck at the part where
it speaks.  I haven’t begun to digest it has two heads.”  The laird
frowned.  “Likeability will not be for some time.”

“You procrastinate explaining how
the three of you came to be here . . . together.”  Emily took another sip
of her tea.

“Your sire knew you would need
caring. 
And
protecting.” Broc began pacing, but paused at the
window.

“That’s the
why
of it.”

“Lass, ye’ avoid mi need to talk to
ye’ about personal matters.  I will no longer be waylaid.  You must return
to Castle MacLarrin, and you must do it before the birthing of yer’ bairns.”

“Why?”  She had other
plans.  Plans that involved a cabin far from civilization.  “Why the
interest in my wellbeing, Broc?  And, since you want to share your agenda,
lets share all of it, starting with why the sudden concern in children who
aren’t yours?”  She thought she detected a slight flinch.  Guilt
surfaced, her words cruel.  But voices from long ago replayed his vicious
accusations. 
Whore
.  Guilt was duly choked, whimpering to the
recesses of her mind. 

There was derision and sympathy
mingled in his glance.  “Ye’ canna’ give birth ta’ yer twins here in
your
realm of moderns and nonbelievers.”

“I’m selling the house and moving
to the mountains.  Very remote mountains.  There!  Now you
know.”

“Isolation is an effective
solution.”

“You’re coming with me, Rover, so
save your annotations.”

“Ah, I’ll be able to see how the
other half lives.”

“Other half?”

“Wolves.”

Visions assailed her of hunters
spying Eldaryn.  Not pretty.  The quest would be as intense as the
hunt for Bigfoot.  Grand plans unraveled.  Much to her annoyance.

“And the bairns?  When ye’
need ta’ go into town for supplies?”

“Uh, I would take them with me.
Duh.”

Eldaryn and Broc shared a look
before Eldaryn’s head swiveled to the door again.  The other remained
sleeping.

“Your point, Outlander.”

“I might remind she’s half
Lumynari,” Eldaryn warned, “the granddaughter of Medusa,
and
pregnant.”

“I’m still the mohn here.”

Emily whipped blankets from her,
smashed down her teacup onto the nightstand, and began stalking Broc. 
Eldaryn exhaled noisily and slid from the bed.  “Tell me, human, do they
send you to many negotiations or just those with the hidden agenda to actually
start
the war?”  He placed himself in front of Emily and sat back on his
haunches.  Emily’s eyes glowed.  Eldaryn yawned.

“Move, puppy.”

“You will simmer your temper. 
We still have need of the Outlander, and I kinda like the ratio.”

“You will not order me—ratio?”

“I refuse to linger in a dwelling
with two females, one pregnant and forever threatening to eat me, singe me, and
gouge my eyes.”

A smile quirked her lips. 
Animosity cooled.

“Speak quickly, Outlander, while
her temper is fixated on me.”

Amber eyes re-ignited.

“Though ye’ be half Lumynari, ye’
doona’ show it, save for yer’ hair.  But, in this realm, it is
admired.  Other than that, you do not show any outward signs.  Your
children will have more of the Lumynari blood than you.  What will you do
if their ears are long and pointed like their sire’s?  Their eyes glowing
red when infuriated or threatened?  How about when the bloodlust overtakes
their rationality during puberty?”

“Bloodlust?”

“You moderns suffer teenage
hormonal rages—“

“Not unlike what we must suffer the
next two trimesters,” Eldaryn interrupted.

Emily bared her teeth. 
Eldaryn’s were sharper, his lip pulling slightly back to show her.

“Lumynari teenagers will need to be
surrounded by . . . shall we say, battle-ready warriors?  Their tempers
are quick and deadly.  Teenage moderns, here in your realm, would not
understand.  What are you going to do when one of your twins is
bullied?  Or feel they’ve been slighted?”

Kids were cruel.  How many
times had her hair been viciously yanked, just to see if it was real?

“And your child strikes back? 
You’ll ‘ave more than school officials ta’ worry about, Lady Emily.  Allen
has traumatized us of what your society will do.”  Broc’s pause was
lengthy, affording her too much time to mull his words.  When at last he resumed,
she wished he hadn’t.  Images her mind conjured put her in a killing mood.

“We
assume
you’ll have your
children during their teenage years.”

“Excuse me?”

“More than likely, they’ll be
whisked away at birth, their differences uncanny.  Ye’ will be lied to,
told they didn’t survive birthing, tha’ these things happen, meanwhile, yer
bairns become experiments, poked, prodded, studied . . .
caged
—“

“
Enough
!”  Emily threw
up her arms.  “Out!  Both of you. 
Now!
”  Her hair
ignited into white flames.

“Come, Outlander,” Eldaryn ordered,
shouldering his girth out the recently damaged doorframe from his entrance two
days earlier.  Broc studied Emily for long moments before he followed the
Oltheg.  She’d presented her back, arms tightly folded.  No woman was
to be crossed when they took
that
stance.  He’d try reasoning with
her again when she cooled her lethal temper.

Not an hour following their
banishment, she slipped into the kitchen, clothed in her garments from
Balkore.  “I’ll want to take my books.”

Broc nodded.  Speech might
make her bolt.  He held his tongue.

“I would want to bring my sword
collection, but since they’re replicas and now I’ll have ownership and access
to the real thing,” she shrugged.  “My clothes are all wrong for the
highlands of Scotland.”

“Alba,” Broc whispered, hoping he
was not misunderstanding.

“Alba.”

“When ye’ visit the village down
below, ye’ step into Scotland.”

“Parallel universe.  What
happens if a tourist decides to go on a day hike and steps into your realm, and
not that madness Reignsfeugh tried feeding me.”

Broc’s eyes twinkled.  “They’d have
ta’ traipse within Henry’s stable.”

“Oh.  Weird.  How was I
able to drive there?”

“Allen.  He is neither dead,
nor alive.  Portals are open to him, though the passage the two of you
used, I’ve permanently sealed.  Fey magicks.  Allen now travels by way of Henry’s
stable.”

“How do we get there from here? 
I know damn well you didn’t come through Customs with Rover here.”

Broc slid off the wicker barstool,
beginning to lose his wariness that she would flee.  “It would seem,
maulkin, I’ve been granted a small measure of magick.”

“I’m not going to dash away.”  She
offered a sheepish grin.

Broc looked to Cianna, who in turn
handed Broc several large leather pouches.  They reminded Emily of old
depictions of hobos.  “Make ready, lass,” he muttered to Cianna.  The
young woman convulsed.  Emily lurched, Broc’s hand stopping her.  In
seconds, the lithe woman, usually clothed in bright colors, her long shiny
black hair forever in a single braid down her back, hopped up onto the
table.  The raven blinked, taking turns with first its left eye, then its
right, observing Emily.

“I’ve known you for a long,
long
time, haven’t I?”

The bird cawed, bobbed its head,
wings fluffing.

“What do you turn into, Eldaryn?”

“A rabid mongrel when not
fed.”  He imitated the bird, both heads bobbing.  “It is a most
embarrassing spectacle I make of myself.”

Emily burst out laughing.  “Oh
my God, you loon!  I’ll make sure to capture prisoners first thing, so you
have ample supply of calves and thighs.”

“Your consideration humbles me.”

Emily’s grin captivated her
audience.  She’d not smiled since they’d arrived to bring her home. 
“What becomes of him when we enter your great hall?” Emily asked Broc, worried
for Eldaryn.

“Oh, I’m sure Maeve has missed his
absence, most especially now that his fur is likened to rushes littering her
precious floor.”

“She does have an uncanny obsession
with keeping that floor as white as possible.”

“Aye.”

“You’re smirking, Rover.”

“The Outlander does his best to
remain at the top of my list when it comes time to choose my first human
meal.”  Eldaryn sniffed Broc, earning a growl from the Forest Lord.

Cawing erupted.  Eldaryn’s
temperament instantly altered.  Sniffing the air, hackles raised, one head
snapped back, studying the ceiling.  Emily crouched down, she too now
looking above.  “How many?”  Her senses crackled to life at an
alarming rate.  She withdrew the lethal dagger Dezenial had presented her
within the cavern, giving quick thanks she’d discovered the blade morphed into
various shapes, enabling her to carry it on her person, no matter her
attire.  Her armband tightened.  “No, guardian, not yet,” she
whispered to it.

“How many what?” Broc followed
their gazes, his own hackles raising.  He’d focus later, the disquieting
change sliding over Emily, and her instant battle-stance.

Forever gone, he noted, was the
naïve modern from Texas.

“If I’d still been in my room, none
of you here . . .” Emily couldn’t finish.

“They’ve found her.  Your
magic must be now, Outlander, or she will not survive what trails her scent
down the stairwell.”  No sooner had Eldaryn given his warning, a keening
rattled the windows.  Pounding of feet could be felt, not just heard. 
Broc muttered words she didn’t recognize and whipped out an amulet from under
his tunic.  The house rumbled.