Shadow Magic

by Karen Whiddon

  Maccus. Deirdre knew it before Egann spoke the word into her ear. Her stomach clenched. Was this then how she would meet her end? Not by stepping into the hot light of the sun, but destroyed by these evil beings?

  The tale Fiallan had told them came to mind.

  "Egann," Deirdre leaned back, half-shouting at his face.

  "If Fiallan spoke true, then these Maccus can carry no swords."

  The savage smile Egann flashed her showed that he had already reached the same conclusion. If the Maccus were inherently of the same race as he, then the metal of a sword would be deadly to them as well. None could carry them, for to do so was to run the risk of becoming violently ill just by one touch of the deadly steel.

  She remembered what Egann had told her earlier. I can only act against them once they attack me. Magic to Magic.

  As abruptly as it had begun, the storm died.

  "Is your magic so powerful that you can control the weather?" Egann's tone was cold, that of a righteous King chastising his enemy.

  One of the three riders, the one in the middle, rode forward. Still his dark cloak hid him, for he did not remove the hood so that they might see his face.

  "We seek the secret of the gemstones." His voice, nasal and pitched low, sounded flat and somehow deadly.

  Incredulous, Deirdre dared not look back at Egann. That they were so bold, making no secret that they were the thieves who had taken the amulet. These men did not want her, apparently they had no idea that a Shadow Dancer rode with Egann. Or they did not care.

  "Fools." Egann's hawk like profile exuded authority and, as she had many times before, Deirdre knew in her heart that none but he could rightfully rule Rune. "You admit then that you have the amulet?"

  Motionless, by their very silence they gave him an answer.

  Egann's voice rang out with authority. "Then you have stolen that which belongs to me. I would have you return it. Now."

  The Maccus, as cowardly villains always do when faced with something stronger than them, muttered uneasily among themselves. Except for the one who had ridden forward. He remained motionless, his shadowed face inside the black hole created by his hood revealing nothing.

  This one, Deirdre sensed, was the most dangerous. The others were merely his henchmen.

  The hooded one spoke. "I have nothing to return. I am not the one who wears the talisman. I was sent to retrieve only an answer."

  "Sent by whom?"

  Slowly, the Maccus shook his head. Still the hood did not fall away, still his features remained hidden from them.

  When he next spoke, his words seemed to come with great reluctance. "The one who wears the jewel has sent us. He would know the truth about this trinket he treasures."

  "Trinket?" Egann snarled the word. He urged Weylyn forward, fists clenched on the reins. "The amulet is treasured greatly by my people."

  Though he remained motionless, Deirdre sensed in the hooded one a flinching, perhaps in fear of Egann, perhaps in dread of the reprisal he would suffer were he to fail in his appointed task.

  "I must return with an answer," the Maccus said finally, echoing Deirdre's thoughts.

  "Why would you think that one such as I would know this secret?" With his words and his tone, Egann mocked them. "Even more importantly, if I did know, why would you even begin to believe that I would tell you?"

  As though it felt its rider's impatience, the Maccus's mount pawed the dirt in front of him.

  "A new dawn will come soon." This time when the leader spoke, his raspy voice held a challenge. "I see no shelter where your Shadow Dancer might hide from the sun's burning rays. We will keep you here, keep her here, trapped in the open while you watch her slowly die!"

  Incredulous, Deirdre watched as the Maccus backed his horse so that the three formed a solid line. The other two remained motionless on the road behind them.

  "Fools," Egann said, his voice cold and hard. "You have left me two choices. We could simply ride past you, knowing that once you attempt to do me harm I can – and will – destroy you with a wave of my hand."

  "And endanger the woman? She can die by our hands much more quickly than by the rays of the sun." The Maccus said, seemingly unperturbed by this notion.

  But Deirdre, feeling the warmth of Egann's hand as he held hers, knew that Egann meant to use his second option, whatever that might be.

  "You forget who and what I am." His extraordinary eyes blazed and glowed. He spoke again, nonsensical words that meant nothing and everything. Deirdre felt the now-familiar swooping pull at her insides, the disorientation as the landscape shifted. Before the Maccus could do more than mutter among themselves, Egann made himself, Deirdre, and Weylyn vanish.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  This time, since Egann did not attempt to take Deirdre into Rune, they both arrived on Weylyn's back at the same place, a fishing village many miles up the Northern Coast near Dunster.

  They stood on a rocky bluff, in sand and stones and tall grass that waved in the wind, high above the dark sea.

  `Twas still night, and clouds even here shrouded the waxing moon. The air smelled of salt, and the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below reminded him of the cliffs where he had first seen Deirdre dance.

  Here near the sea, more than any other place, the veil that separated earth and Rune was the thinnest. He felt the presence of magic, the tingle of awareness it brought, even in the energy that rolled up from the water.

  From the cry of appreciation Deirdre gave, and the joyous lift of her chin as she sniffed the air, she too felt something.

  "The Maccus are gone," he said, unnecessarily.

  Turning in the saddle, she flashed him a smile of such bemused joy that he couldn't help but chuckle.

  "You brought me home."

  Though he meant to touch her as little as possible, he could not seem to stop himself from cupping her chin with one hand and dipping his head to sample her curved mouth.

  "Nay, not home," he murmured, wondering why the very taste of her made him hunger for more. "We have traveled North, up the coast. My instincts and Fiallan's tell me that the amulet will be found here."

  Her lovely eyes widened. Violet now, they glowed with the color of some rare flower. Fascinated, Egann felt he could easily drown in their depths if he were not careful.

  Deliberately, he looked away.

  "Your eyes have changed color again." He kept his tone flat, feigning disinterest.

  She shrugged, the slight movement causing his body to stir. "This does not surprise me. I have never understood what it is that makes them change, or why."

  "Most likely it is some residue of the magic inside you that manifests itself thusly when affected by mine." Fixing his gaze on the dark horizon, Egann nudged Weylyn into a brisk walk. To his relief, Deirdre turned around to face front again.

  "Odd," she mused. "Though we have ridden many hours, and this night has been long, I do not sense the arrival of morning on the breeze from the sea. How can that be?"

  "Time passes differently when one travels between worlds."

  "Is that what we did?"

  He detected a faint hint of confusion in her husky voice. No wonder, for what mortal could possibly understand the intricate workings of magical travel?

  Lowering his gaze to the back of her head, he found himself breaking into a wry grin, knowing he would have to try to explain.

  "We did not go to Rune," she told him, when he did not immediately answer. "So tell me how it is that we have traveled between worlds."

  With a mock sigh, he shifted in the saddle, knowing that she would no doubt feel the slight movement in much the same way he'd felt her shrug.

  "There are many worlds that make up the fabric of time. Many existences, many levels. Since I cannot take you to Rune, we but dipped into another place before I brought us here."

  As though agreeing, Weylyn nickered.

  "So this means that we might yet have many hours until morning?" Though she asked her question in a w
eary voice, Egann could hear the undercurrent of excitement that she tried to hide from him.

  He fought the urge to bend and place a kiss on the soft skin at the curve of her jaw. "Aye," he sounded gruff he knew, but there was no help for it, "you may yet have hours before you must find a place to sleep."

  Weylyn snorted a loud warning.

  Immediately, Egann tensed. Though a quick search of the area revealed nothing, he trusted the horse implicitly.

  "We must go," Egann said.

  Weylyn needed no second urging. Wheeling from the bluffs, he broke into a brisk trot. Deirdre let out a soft cry as she bounced hard against Egann.

  "I'm sorry," she muttered. Half-turned, her words were a gasp as the jolt of the horse's gait brushed her full breasts against his arm.

  Egann clenched his jaw to stifle his groan. Never before had he known a woman's innocent motions to cause him such torment. Even the practiced wiles of the most beautiful women of Fae had not aroused him so easily.

  And, strangest of all, Deirdre did not even seem to realize what effect she had on him. Or did she?

  Through narrowed eyes he watched her, so caught up in trying to determine her attraction for him that her next question startled him.

  "Egann?" Still half-facing him, her expression seemed troubled. "To where do we ride with such speed?"

  It took him a moment to drag his attention away from her lush lips. "I believe the Maccus make camp nearby. If we make haste, I shall have the advantage of surprise."

  "What of me?" Though she sounded unperturbed as she asked the question, he knew from her involuntary shudder that she was afraid. "What will you do with me when you ride on the Maccus?"

  Now he touched her; he could not help himself. With his arm he brought her close, so that her head rested against his chest. "Do not worry, little dancer. You shall be in no danger. I will find a place where you shall be safe."

  She shifted restlessly against him, causing her captive kitten to squirm. "I would prefer to aid you."

  Smoothing down her silky black hair, this time he did place a kiss on the top of her head. "I know you do. And if these thieves were anything but Maccus, I would welcome your help. But I have given you my vow that I shall protect you…" He let the words trail off, knowing Deirdre would understand how utterly important keeping his promise had become.

  What she did not know, could not know, was that his vow was not solely due to the necessity of honor. Nay, he reflected with mocking amazement, had he not given his word to keep her safe, he would do so, even at great cost to himself and his quest.

  The Shadow Dancer had come to mean something to him.

  Had this feeling always existed, buried deep inside of him, since the moment he'd first beheld her lovely face? Or had this feeling been steadily growing, quickening with each soft touch of her hand, until it now held a firm foothold in his heart?

  He could not say. Indeed, the why and how of it did not matter, not really. Not now.

  Yet he could not help but wonder - would his feelings matter when the time came to leave her?

  As though she sensed his riotous thoughts, Deirdre began murmuring to her tiny pet in a soothing voice. Egann listened as she sang a low-voiced lullaby, finding himself aroused and amused at the same time.

  "What of my kitten?" Finishing her quiet song, Deirdre whispered hoarsely. "What will become of her while I sleep?"

  "You worry about the kitten? Still stunned by the impact of her husky voice on him, he shook his head.

  "Yes." She answered in a firm tone.

  Egann stared for a moment, his chest unaccountable tight. Softness, stubbornness, both resided in this mortal woman in equal measure. She cared not that she might look foolish, nay. Rather she worried about her small pet, and he knew that she wanted him to promise to take care of it.

  What could he do but agree? He opened his mouth to allay her fears, when Weylyn again snorted a loud warning.

  This time, it was a cross between the roar of a lion and the cry of a warhorse, charging into battle. Without any urging from Egann, he broke into an all-out gallop.

  The back of Egann's neck began to tingle a warning. All round them, the night seemed still and silent, except for the pounding of Weylyn's hooves. Shrouded in darkness, the ghostly shapes of dwarfed trees whipped past as they ran. Away from the sea, from the cliffs and the rocks, inland. Where danger awaited.

  Egann saw no safe place where he might leave Deirdre. Furious with himself, he cursed out loud.

  "What is it?" Deirdre gasped.

  "I know not." Grim-voiced, he gave his answer, knowing that they would find out soon enough.

  Rounding a curve in the road, ahead lay the glow of several small fires. Cries and shouts echoed out over the darkened plains, and the shadows of many cloaked and hooded men could be dimly seen. Several of them surrounded a woman, seemingly trying to drag her to a fiery death in the largest of the fires.

  Maccus.

  With a savage curse, Egann reined Weylyn to a sliding stop. He had no time. No time nor place where he might safely leave Deirdre.

  "Let's go," she urged, understanding the reason for his hesitation. "Or the Maccus will kill her."

  "I will not take you among Maccus in a sacrificial frenzy."

  "We have no choice."

  Another quick look around them showed Egann the truth of her words. The undulating landscape of fields contained no safe haven for Deirdre. If he kept her with him, he would have a better chance of protecting her.

  The captive woman screamed.

  Egann touched his heels lightly to Weylyn's side.

  Pawing the ground, the enormous beast snorted. Then, tossing his massive head, reared up and leapt forward.

  Into the midst of Maccus they charged.

  The men scattered.

  On the crackle and hiss of the flames broke the shocked silence that greeted them. Those that held the woman captive did not release her, though she had ceased her struggles to stare in awe and wonder at them.

  "Release her," Egann ordered. Although he carried no sword, his authoritative tone left no doubt he would be obeyed.

  Yet none moved.

  Finally, their captive, an elderly woman with a mane of silver hair, spoke.

  "Help me," she said, her voice quavering yet strong. She did not shout, nor beg, and an odd sort of resigned dignity seemed to cling to her.

  Behind her, the golden flames leaped and sparked, an offering to the red and angry god of the Maccus.

  Shaking off her captor's hands, the gray-haired woman took a step forward.

  Something about her reminded him of Deirdre.

  "She is a Shadow Dancer." One of the Maccus spoke, his defiant voice echoing in the night. "Of darkness and evil. It is our right to purge the earth of ones such as she."

  Deirdre stiffened, clutching a handful of Weylyn's mane. With a light touch to her shoulder, Egann forestalled her. He did not want her to draw the Maccus's attention to herself.

  Instead, raised his voice in challenge.

  "Who gives you such a right? That you would stoop so low as to murder an elderly woman who cannot fight you nor defend herself?"

  Instead of shaming them, Egann's words seemed to make them stand taller.

  "Our god gives us the right, this reason. `Tis our divine purpose, our reason for being. Have you not heard of the Shadow Dancer, and the curse they carry upon mankind?"

  Since Egann could not lie, he did not answer directly. Instead, he cocked his head and made a sound of dissent. "I would hear this tale," he said.

  The utter stillness of Deirdre in front of him told Egann that she too wanted to hear the story.

  The elderly Shadow Dancer however, had other ideas. While the two Maccus who still held her focused their attention on Egann, she used the opportunity to break loose from their hold.

  Whirling with the speed of one who had much less years upon her, the aged one spun free and moved to stand near Weylyn's shoulder.

  To Egann
's amazement, the Maccus fell back rather than going after her.

  Weylyn nickered a welcome.

  When one of the Maccus shook off his daze and made a move towards them, Egann held up his hand.

  "Come no closer. She is under my protection now."

  "And who are you?" The tallest of the Maccus, hidden in the dark folds of the ever-present black cloak, moved forward boldly. "Think you that you can overcome six of us?"

  "I am," piercing each man with a look that left no doubt as to his belief that indeed he could easily prevail, Egann spoke quietly, knowing his next words would be answer enough.

  "Egann of Rune."

  To his immense satisfaction the Maccus fell back. Except one, the tall, bold one who had first issued the challenge.

  "This is a matter between Maccus and mortal. We but sacrifice to our god. You of Rune have no reason nor right to interfere."

  The back of Egann's neck began to tingle yet again. This Maccus, whoever he might be, knew just enough of the lore of Rune to be dangerous. But how?

  "Show yourself," he ordered. "Cease this hiding and remove your hood."

  Evincing no fear, the Maccus stepped forward, until he stopped a mere ten paces from them. Behind him, the bonfire's angry orange glow made his hooded form appear an ominous silhouette.

  Though Deirdre did not overtly move, Egann could feel her shrinking away from the evil this man emanated. To his surprise, the older woman laid a knarled hand on Deirdre's leg, as if to comfort.

  The man on the ground reached up and slowly lowered his hood.

  "So we meet again," he said, grinning slyly.

  `Twas the Maccus Egann had met before in the forest. The one who called himself Monk, who might even be the one who led the Maccus. Yet he did not carry the Amulet of Gwymyrr, for Egann would have sensed its presence.

  Weylyn tossed his massive head and pawed the ground.

  Monk's grin widened. "Your mount wishes to hunt."

  Egann studied the other man. This one, even though he had been banished from Rune, still knew how to use his eyes to see beyond deceitful appearances. Evidently he was able to discern, where mere humans did not, Weylyn's true form.