Shadow Magic

by Karen Whiddon

  "Tell me why you fear the day."

  She turned to look at him, her expression quizzical. "Truly you do not know what I am?"

  Impatiently he shook his head.

  "I am a Shadow Dancer."

  "So I have been told. But your title tells me nothing."

  She laughed then, a sad little sound, yet so pure and without guile or malice that he froze. A sudden longing for home filled him, for his sisters' joyous laughter and unaffected ways.

  "I am sorry." Deirdre's voice made him look at her again. He saw no amusement in the solemn way she gazed at him. "In Rune have you not heard of those that dance in the shadows?"

  "Nay." He waved his hand, his impatience causing his horse to sidestep. With a gentle sound he calmed the beast, guiding the reins so that the restless beast stood still.

  "I live under a curse." Though she stared straight ahead, her expression emotionless, he sensed strong emotions within her. "And as such I must hide in darkness when others walk freely. The sun's bright rays are my enemy - should they touch my skin they will scald me, and I will die a painful and horrible death. It has always been this way for those of my blood."

  "So daybreak is like evening to you."

  "And sunset is my dawn." Swallowing, she lifted her chin. "That is why we must seek shelter from the morning."

  Real terror he saw flash in her amber eyes, he heard it too in the quick catch of breath she made when she glanced again towards the lightening sky. The place where they rode was flat and cave-less, endless marshes with twisted trees that offered little shelter from the sky.

  "Please." She laid one white hand on his sleeve, her voice husky and sensual and terrified, all at once, "Whether you believe me or not, please help me. I must find some place to hide before the sun pushes the moon from the sky."

  Without a signal from Egann, the stallion broke into a trot, then a gallop. Startled, Egann glanced at the woman, who inclined her head in thanks.

  He decided to let the beast have its head.

  They pounded over the moor, the horse fleet of foot and strong of heart. Long, dark hair streaming out behind her like a cloak, Deirdre fell silent, only the urgency of her concentration reminding him that they ran against no less a foe than the approaching dawn.

  Ahead he saw a blocky shape. The ruins of an ancient stone temple, long ago abandoned. Perhaps here they might find enough darkness for her to hide.

  Around them, hidden in the long grass and the blunt leaves of the stunted trees, birds began to sing, heralding the slow and stately approach of the sunrise.

  Deirdre began to tremble.

  Egann urged the horse into an all out run, leaning forward to help the sturdy animal run. Deirdre did the same.

  They reach the crumbling stone building as the first faint streamers of magenta began coloring the horizon.

  Again unbidden, his horse skidded to a halt.

  "Come." Dismounting, Egann held out his hand.

  Her small fingers seemed cold as she took it. He felt the tremors that went through her, and he cursed as he pulled her down from the massive beast and into his arms.

  Registering dimly how good she felt, even for that brief moment, in two strides he had her inside the temple, where only part of the roof remained to offer any kind of shelter against the sun.

  "There." She pointed to what had once been an altar, with a massive stone crypt built behind. "The tomb."

  Again he had cause to wonder what kind of woman this was, but she gave him little time as she pushed out of his arms and began trying to move the heavy stone lid.

  "Please..." Her voice broke, as her desperate struggles brought no results. "Help me. I do not wish to die."

  Though the very thought of lying in someone else's tomb made him shudder, he could see that if she wanted to live, she had no other choice.

  Hopefully, the crypt would be unoccupied. Egann did not know what he would do if it were not.

  When he placed both hands on the stone, putting all of his strength behind it, the heavy granite grated as it began to move. Behind him, bit by bit, the sky began to lighten from lavender to palest gray.

  Trying to help, her nails scraping as she pushed and pulled, Deirdre made a quiet sound of distress, low in her throat.

  The sky grew lighter.

  Slowly, slowly, the stone slid away.

  Frantic now, Deirdre became as one crazed, scrabbling at the heavy rock until her nails tore and her fingers bled from her futile efforts.

  Egann continued to pull until he felt as if his arms would strain from their sockets.

  And the cover came grudgingly, grindingly away.

  With a glad cry she turned to him, uttering silent thanks on bloodless lips. He could see her clearly now; it was nearly light, and very soon the first golden rays of the morning would streak across the coral sky.

  Inside the tomb he saw naught but dusty ashes; the ancient remnants of some long dead soul. No bones, thank the fates, no rotting flesh nor decaying human remains, just simple ashes.

  Gripping his hand, Deirdre climbed into the stone coffin.

  "Can you close it?" She pleaded with her eyes. "Please?"

  Though his muscles screamed, he nodded. If he didn't help this mortal woman, she would die, and it would be the same as if he had killed her with his own hand.

  It seemed to take much less effort to slide the stone back in place. He had barely completed his task, wondering how she would breathe, when the sun burst over the eastern horizon in a dazzling golden display of light.

  Now alone, he let himself sag against the rock altar. How had he come to this? He had started out with the simple intention of exploring the mortal world, of experiencing anonymity and freedom for a time. Then his amulet had been stolen. Surely, recovering the thing would seem an easy task for one with such magical skill as he. Yet here he stood, in the ruins of some ancient human temple, without the very amulet he sought. Worse, instead of actively seeking it, he found himself trying to protect the very woman who might have stolen it in the first place.

  Glumly he wondered if the fates were enjoying a colossal jest at his expense.

  * * *

  Long before she opened her eyes, Deirdre became aware of the rising of the moon. Though many days would pass before it would swell to fullness, its lunar vibrations never failed to sound a chord within her, even through inches of thick stone.

  Lifting her head, she winced as she slammed up against the heavy granite top of the tomb. Instant panic flashed through her - she had never been one to suffer confinement of any kind, and this stone prison allowed little room for movement. With a fierce command, she slowed her breathing, knowing from the thick staleness of the air that she had best be careful until Egann moved back the cover and freed her.

  Assuming he had not left her here.

  Another stab of anxiety, swiftly banished. Any man who would go to such lengths to help a woman in trouble would not abandon her to die alone in a stone coffin.

  As if she had summoned him, the granite slab slid away with a grinding sound, opening slowly. A rush of fresh air made her dizzy, then Egann's large hands slid under her and lifted her into the blessed night and freedom.

  "Are you... all right?" His deep voice rumbled against her ear as, head on his chest, she closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and offered up a silent prayer of thanks.

  "I am." When he put her down, her legs wobbled, but she willed them to support her so they did. Even now, faint as it might be, the silver light of the moon gave her strength. She drew upon it hungrily, greedily, trying not to think of her people and all they had sacrificed in order to save her.

  Hiding in such an awful place as some other soul's tomb seemed like a small price to pay compared to what they had given, so that she might be spared.

  And this man... Opening her eyes, she let her gaze drift over him, wondering if he had spoken true, if he really was Faerie, and in fact much more than a mere mortal male.

  Looking at him now, she could
certainly believe that such a thing was true. Even in the silver moonlight, he appeared golden.

  And beautiful. And so tempting that she reached out her hand to touch him without even conscious thought.

  Realizing what she was about to do, she froze. So much in her life had gone wrong; she would not compound her errors by making an even worse mistake. Shaken, she let her hand fall.

  He didn't seem to notice. "You are covered in ash."

  Glancing down, she saw that indeed she was. Her earth-colored gown now matched the rough rock of the temple walls. Attempting to brush herself off, all she gained for her trouble was an ash covered hand.

  "Let me."

  Her breath caught. So help her, she couldn't move, watching in a kind of horrified fascination as he caught the skirt of her gown with one hand and proceeded to wipe her off with the other.

  She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his fingers as they skimmed the line of her waist, the curve of one thigh. She remembered those brief moments together, before the attack, in his sleeping chamber when she'd come so close to acting upon her dreams. Thinking of how aroused he'd been turned her insides to liquid honey. Warm, thick, fluid, she felt herself melt.

  Because of the strange connection they shared, Egann seemed to sense her tumbled thoughts. His hand slowed, his touch became more exploratory, more sensual. No longer simply brushing away ashes, he grazed her breast, causing her nipple to tighten.

  "Give me my amulet," he said, his voice rough.

  Opening her eyes, Deirdre stepped back, away from the hypnotic magnetism of his touch. She felt like a fool.

  "You seek to beguile the wrong female," she snapped. "Use your great magic, oh exalted-one-of-Rune. If you would but take a moment to do so, you would see that I do not have your precious trinket."

  With a grim smile, he inclined his head. "Very well then."

  Though he did not move, nor wave his hands about in strange motions or chant incomprehensible words, she instantly felt the disturbance in the atmosphere. It rocked her, the shifting of power as it swirled around her, tingled like lightening striking nearby. She felt most of all, a strong sense of rightness, like her body understood and welcomed such a thing. Though how this could be so she did not know, since the paltry magic she created was not one tenth as powerful as his.

  Then, as abruptly as it began, it ended.

  "Morthar's teeth," he cursed, his expression grim. "You speak truth, this time. The amulet of Gwymyrr is not here."

  Still reeling from the sensation of power shifting her foundation from beneath her, she dipped one shoulder in agreement with his words. "I have tried to tell you that I did not take it."

  "Then who did?"

  Goddess help her, she did not know. "Can you not find this out with your magic?"

  He shook his head. "I have tried. Yet somehow I am blocked, by someone or something else. This other that seeks to keep me out is powerful indeed, stealing my amulet and keeping it so well hidden."

  She inhaled a shaky breath. Did this mean he finally believed her?

  "I must find it."

  Deirdre nodded. "Tell me of this talisman, this amulet you seek so intently."

  His expression went cold. For a moment she thought he might refuse to answer. When he finally spoke, it was with a remote voice that sounded, even to her untrained ears, hollow and devoid of emotion.

  "The Amulet of Gwymyrr is passed from King to King."

  Stifling a gasp, Deirdre kept her face from showing any emotion. Did this Egann of Rune now claim to be a King?

  "Twas given to me by Fiallan, the Wise One of Rune. Even after I refused to take the throne, he insisted I take it. Even knowing that I meant to leave Rune for this mortal world."

  Patiently she waited, though her insides were in turmoil.

  It seemed a long while until he spoke again.

  "Though I know not when I might decide to return to Rune, I accepted the task of guarding the Amulet of Gwymyrr until a new King could be chosen. If Fiallan comes to me and wants the amulet back..."

  "I see." The anguish she heard beneath his carefully modulated tones moved her. More than anything she wanted to go to him, to hold him close and murmur soothing words of comfort. But, knowing him only from her dreams, she dared not.

  "Will you help me find it?" He asked, his stare bold and openly daring.

  "Me?" Astounded, all she could do was gape at him.

  "Yes, you." Voice mocking, he gave her a grim smile. "You are connected with all of this somehow. In what way, I do not know. But I will unearth the truth. You had best tell me what you know."

  Back to that again. What did he imagine, that she'd had some sort of accomplice, some assistant who had spirited the thing away under cover of darkness? To what end?

  Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin. "Egann of Rune, hear my words. You have saved my life, and for such an act I am eternally grateful. But it should be apparent to you that my command of magic is but a sapling to your ancient oak. I could not stay your hand in any way, nor block your eyes from seeing whatsoever you desired. How could I, a lowly mortal who has but one skill, that of my Shadow Dancing, assist you in finding your magical talisman?"

  Though she'd purposely laced her tone with irony, after she'd spoken, she could see the stark ring of truth in some of her words.

  Muscular arms folded across his massive chest, he cocked his shaggy head, considering.

  "You are mortal, tis true." His sharp blue gaze raked over her, missing nothing, not the nervous tapping of her foot, nor the way her aching nipples still pebbled against the soft material of her gown. "But, even though you are no mage or wizard or witch, yet still you command a sprinkling of magic, as if you were born to it. That is no small feat."

  She still thought it best to tell him the truth. "I command nothing, rather the magic enthralls me. I have no choice, you see, not when the moon hangs full and heavy in the sky and the sharp notes of her song prickle at me, like ice shards too exquisite and fragile to touch."

  Looking into his beautiful eyes, she thought of how easy if would be to lose herself in them, just like she did in a Shadow Dance.

  "Anything can be controlled." His low voice seemed to vibrate with another meaning, one confirmed by his next words, "Or beguiled, or tamed."

  Magic. They spoke of magic, she reminded herself. Still, she could not hold her tongue. "Anything, Lord Egann? Even you?"

  His gaze narrowed. "Mayhap once. But only once. Now that I am aware of the enchantment, I will be doubly vigilant. As should you, because magic can be more than splendor, more than radiant perfection. Like everything else, it has a dark side."

  This she already knew. "Tis deadly and dangerous in the wrong hands, yes. But for me it is not. When the spell of it beguiles me I care no longer for anything but the dance." She smiled sadly, remembering.

  "The moon music flows through me and around me, and I travel to other places unknowingly drunk on its power. Yes, I seek to bend it to my will, and in some small things I do succeed - a fertile harvest, a minor illness cured, a barren wife's womb brought to fruit. What little I have at my command is only used for good, never evil. By dancing I kept my people happy."

  Sorrow filled her and she looked away. The golden radiance of his aura suddenly seemed too bright to bear. "In the end, I could not even save them, so small is my magic. There is naught in what I do that will help you find this amulet you seek."

  "You are wrong."

  His harsh words startled her. The people of the cliffs had never spoken thus to her. She'd been revered, cosseted, and set apart. Isolated. For the first time in her entire life, someone treated her like an equal.

  Twas a strange and exhilarating feeling.

  When she did not dispute him, Egann flashed a savage smile. "Do as you bid me to do, and look for the truth inside yourself. You are connected to this amulet, somehow. Even if you do not yet admit it."

  Deirdre opened her mouth to speak - and did not. Something nagged at the
edge of her consciousness... when she dreamt of him he had worn an amulet, some sort of charm that had seemed to amplify the sensations they'd experienced.

  As if they'd needed any amplification. Merely thinking of the myriad things they'd done together made her grow warm.

  "You seem flushed." Egann took a step closer. "What does this mean?"

  Though she knew he referred only to the amulet, she raised her gaze to his, so that he could see how he affected her, knowing her thoughts and tumultuous emotions would be revealed to him in her eyes.

  His sharp intake of breath confirmed this.

  "Enchantment." He spoke the word like a curse, even as he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. His kiss was savage, elemental, making her feel like he drank of her essence and, in turn, let her have an intoxicating taste of his.

  When he broke away and turned from her, she felt abandoned, bereft.

  "What kind of spell is this?" His harsh accusation reminded her that he had only just concluded that she was not a thief, but perhaps still harbored doubts about her abilities as an enchantress.

  "I... do not know."

  Keeping his back to her, he would not look at her. Fascinated, she watched as he fought a visible battle for control.

  "I will not let some other force guide my actions, " he told her, his voice strained. "Not in Rune and not here."

  "I am glad you are able to find the strength of will to resist it," she said quietly. "Because I do not think I am quite that strong."

  He spun around to face her, his pupils darkening to storm clouds as he took in the import of her words. He actually took a step towards her, before he realized what he had almost done.

  Goddess help her, but having such a potent effect on him thrilled her to the bottom of her soul.

  She wanted more. Much more.

  "What am I to do with you?" he mused, like he had somehow read her thoughts. "I cannot take you back to Rune with me. What kind of life would you have then?'

  What kind of life had she lived before? Alone and set apart, existing only for the benefit of others, never for herself. Longing for something she could never have, only truly alive when she danced... or dreamed. Deirdre longed to tell him the truth, but could not bear to see pity instead of passion in his eyes.