"Nay, child." Ula's long fingers clutched at Deirdre's arm. "Not Maccus. You must not allow terror to rule you."
"But—" Deirdre pointed, caring not that the other woman could see the violent trembling of her fingers. The acrid smell of smoke clogged her nostrils. Ahead burned a huge bonfire, flames leaping and blazing into the inky darkness. Hooded figures, wearing the telltale black cloaks of the Maccus encircled the fire.
"'Tis how they worship their god."
"Aye, but they wear the hoods for warmth. The bonfire brings that and light, nothing more," Ula soothed, still gripping Deirdre's arm. "There will be no sacrifices here. Come with me. You have much to learn."
Deirdre balked. "I do not think that I—"
"I have told you that you would have to make a choice. You will be allowed to choose. How can you do so if you do not know all?"
Deirdre's eyes stung in the smoky haze. Dizzy, she coughed, then shook her head, trying to clear it. She felt drugged. Something in the smoke… in the air…
"Let us go," Ula said.
This time, Deirdre allowed herself to be led forward, muzzily feeling her way on the uneven stone surface. As they drew closer to the bonfire, she saw a large gathering of people, both men and women, and some of them wore the black robes of the Maccus.
Or did they? She looked again. She couldn't think – her mouth felt dry and her eyes unfocused.
"See, child." Ula's voice seemed to come from a great distance. "It is as I promised. You have nothing to fear."
Ula led her with unerring purpose, through the throngs of people, who parted for them as if they were royalty. Here, so close to the fires, the smoke took on a sickly-sweet odor. Some sort of potent herb burned here, some sort of drug that fouled the air. Most likely it was this that so clouded Deirdre's mind.
As they moved through the crowd, Deirdre took note of the people for, except in her dreams, never had she seen so many gathered in one place. Unlike her dreams however, the colors these people wore were muted, various shades of white, milk and cream, and moonstone.
They milled about, talking in voices too low for her to hear their words, small clusters of them and the occasional couple. Some appeared to be arguing fiercely, heads bent low, arms around each others shoulders in a secretive sort of circle. Others stared dreamily into the fire, their vacant grins attesting to the potency of the burning drug.
Most glanced up at they passed. A few offered a slow smile of welcome, a nod of this ones head, a wave of that ones hand. Shadow dancers with hair as dark as midnight, hair like Deirdre's own, or the brilliant silver that denoted great age like Ula's mingled with the golden-haired Maccus.
Suddenly, she longed for Egann. What must he have thought, when he went to wake her and found her gone?
A terrible ache filled her. She knew all too well what the proud Fae warrior would think. He would somehow believe her disappearance was due to some failing of his.
Would he search for her? Or would he be glad to be rid of her, free of the burden of keeping her safe from the sun.
Her heart hurt. Her chest hurt as well, as she found it increasingly difficult to inhale air into her sore lungs.
Blinking rapidly, Deirdre took shallow breaths, hoping the air would be less tainted the more they traveled beyond the fire.
Once they'd left the fire and cavern behind, they traveled a narrow passage similar to the one they'd used to enter. Again lit on both sides by torches that flickered and cast dancing shadows on granite walls, it seemed to travel ever downward, into the very bowels of the earth herself. Here Ula stopped, releasing Deirdre's hand and turning her roughly so that each faced the other.
"How much do you know of the heritage of our people?" Ula asked.
"I have learned of the curse, and how it was misdirected on our people." Choosing her words carefully, Deirdre hesitated, waiting to hear how the other woman would respond.
"Truly?" Ula's white brows arched, indicating her surprise. "How came you to be so educated?"
For some reason, Deirdre felt reluctant to tell her of her association with Fiallan, Wise One of the Fae. Never having doubted her instincts before, she saw no reason to doubt them now. A bit of caution could not hurt, especially until she found out what Ula was up to.
So, instead of answering, she shrugged her shoulders, hoping her gesture indicated nothing more than confusion.
Ula's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "No matter," she said finally, her voice brusque. "`Tis only recently that one of the Maccus came to us, with a plan to regain our heritage."
"Maccus!" Recoiling, Deirdre took a step back. "Have you gone mad? The Maccus exist only to kill our kind."
"Not this one." The older dancer made no move to come after her, only watching with a serene smile on her lined face. "He has tired of the evil perpetuated by his kind, and wishes only to return things to the way they should be."
Neither woman spoke, each eying the other, Deirdre trying to hide her distrust and fear. Beside them, the torches danced their wild dance, flames leaping in response to some unseen breeze.
"Come with me," Ula coaxed. "You have my word that you will not be harmed."
Deirdre lifted her chin, facing the other woman bravely. "Your word means little to me. I was not brought here of my own free will."
This time it was Ula who shrugged, though her tight-lipped smile belied her casual air. "You cannot go back, or the others will know you have not listened. The one you thought would protect you cannot find you here, for his magic cannot penetrate beneath the earth. Always has it been so. You are alone, though you do not have to be. Come with me to meet hear Hearne's words."
Deirdre gasped. "Hearne? `Tis the ancient name of a hunter god."
Ula nodded. "So? He is Maccus. Where once he hunted our kind, now he pursues only the truth."
"No." The word slipped out before Deirdre could stop it. Ula was a fool if she believed that any of the Maccus wanted to help the Shadow Dancers. For too many centuries had they pursued her kind, killing in a ritual sacrifice of fire and blood, homage to their red and angry god.
The flickering flames ceased dancing, the air going still and stifling. Glancing behind her, Deirdre tamped down her rising panic, wondering if she would ever breath again the fresh air of spring.
"Then there is the amulet." Ula's tone was coaxing. "Hearne has the precious talisman."
The amulet. In her terror and drugged confusion, she had nearly forgotten. Now, with the air much clearer, she could think again.
"I will go with you," she said, deciding. "If you can give me your promise that I will be released if I determine that I want no part of this."
"If you do not wish to join us, that is your right." Ula smiled sadly. "But there are other Maccus who have not joined us. They still seek to kill all Shadow Dancers and we cannot protect you from them."
Deirdre's heart sank. "By chance do these other Maccus wait here, for disbelievers to sacrifice?"
The older woman laughed. "Nay, worry not. We do not allow those killers to know of our secret home. Once you meet Hearne, you shall see and seeing, believe. I am confident of this.
Deirdre found it difficult to believe that this Hearne, a Maccus, had a sudden change of heart and no longer wanted his people to hunt Shadow Dancers. No when doing so was so deeply ingrained in every fiber, every being of the Maccus. `Tis the reason they existed.
"There are many Shadow Dancers here, who have joined our cause." Ula said, her tone still wheedling.
"How many?"
"Hundreds."
Deirdre began to realize what this Hearne meant to do. Gather together all Shadow Dancers, with false promises and honeyed lies. Then, when he had them all assembled in their hundreds or thousands, he would call down his Maccus warriors, and kill them all with one fell swoop.
"Come now." Without waiting to see if Deirdre would follow, Ula moved away, down the stone corridor.
Did this Hearne truly have the Amulet of Gwymyrr? Because she had to know and becau
se those other Shadow Dancers that she had seen, kept drugged and in a stupor by the potent herb in the smoke would be like lambs led to a slaughter, Deirdre reluctantly followed.
* * *
The sun rose with a fiery presence, warming Egann's back as he made his way down the jagged rocks, finally reaching a small, sturdy ledge just above where the waves crashed over the sharp stones below.
A few feet away he saw the cave mouth, a yawning black hole in the cliff face that surely filled with the rising of the tide. He stepped inside, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. There were two passageways, side by side with no markings to aid him in making a choice.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he went utterly still, his mind reaching, searching for the same hint of Deirdre's essence that he had detected on the cliffs. It had been faint, an elusive trace carried on the salty breeze, but here he could find nothing.
Cinnie made a sound, a cross between a purr and a growl. Weaving between his legs, she went ahead, down the stone passageway to the right. At the first curve, the small kitten hesitated, looking back over her shoulder at Egann and mewing three times before disappearing.
Somehow, Deirdre's pet knew where to go. This way then, he would follow.
Though the sun now burned bright in the sky, once he had gone a few paces into the bowels of the cliff, it ceased to matter. The deeper he traveled, the less light he had to guide his way. Perpetual night reigned here, and he stopped and used his magic to make a torch. It took three attempts to do so; strange in one as skilled as he, who could ordinarily do such minor magic with only a snap of his finger. Most likely the arduous journey and days without rest had finally taken their toll.
Maneuvering the uneven passage became easier with the torch to light his way. Following the kitten, he made quick progress, noting the increasing chill and the faint smell of sulphur that tainted the air.
He sensed no other life, not even the small, furtive creatures that normally thrived in such caves. Deirdre and Ula had passed this way and their assailant must have taken them, for whatever reason, to some awful lair underneath the earth itself.
The silence became oppressive, the stench in the air most foul. Yet trusting Cinnie and that inner sense that he believed implicitly told him that his course was accurate.
He heard a faint sound, sharp then gone so quickly that he might have imagined it. Rocking forward on the balls of his feet, he continued to move with the silent stealth of a hunter, though he dared not extinguish his torch and render himself blind.
But again he heard it, a weak cry and the low murmur of many people talking, all at once. Though Cinnie had led the way thus far, she came back to him and sat at his feet, tilting her furry head and appearing to listen.
Whatever created the sound, it lay farther down the passage, deeper into the earth.
He pressed on, the small cat now trailing behind.
As he rounded yet another sharp turn in the passage, though each step carried him deeper into the earth, he saw that the darkness grew less absolute. Yet he could not determine the source of the light.
His sense of urgency grew. Yet try as he might, he could not find Deirdre's essence. Mayhap magic did not work well underneath the earth's surface.
But then what created the light?
Placing the torch against the rock wall to burn harmlessly, he went ten paces ahead without it, around yet another twist and turn, and found he could see quite well.. This was good, as the bright flare would have given away his presence if sentries or guards were posted by whatever manner of being lived in such a dark place.
With each downward step the air seemed to grow more heavy, more fowl. He smelled a faint sickly/sweet scent – incense or an herb of some kind – and bitter, acrid smoke.
Then in the distance he saw the ominous glow of a huge fire and his heart seemed to stop in his chest. Always now he equated the blaze of flames with the dark deeds of the Maccus, in their blind devotion to their red and angry god. Fire had come to mean one thing – sacrifice and death for Shadow Dancers.
Deirdre!
Had it been Maccus who had somehow transported Deirdre here? Had they been able to increase their magical talent by so great a leap? Or mayhap the amulet had aided them in this respect.
No matter how they had done it, if the Maccus had been the ones to bring the Shadow Dancers here, then Deirdre and Ula were in great danger.
Fear and anger burning in him, Egann began to run.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Here," Ula hissed, her bony fingers digging into Deirdre's arm, "you will meet the one who has the power to change your life." Her intense gaze seemed to bore into Deirdre, as if by the force of a look alone she could compel her to believe.
The effects of the smoke-drug had totally worn off now. Deirdre blinked and swallowed, her mouth dry. Fanaticism. Only once before had she witnessed such a thing. A woman in the village on the cliffs had once become obsessed with the Shadow Dancing and the limited magic the dance created. This woman, not living under the curse that Deirdre did, had gathered a group to her to try and force Deirdre into the sun. Luckily, she had not prevailed.
The power to change her life? This man that Ula followed – this Maccus? It seemed unlikely that he would change her life in any way except to end it. And he gathered Shadow Dancers to him like moths to a dancing candle flame?
She could only think of one reason, and that chilled her blood.
A man stepped from the shadows, a sparkling pendant hanging heavy his neck.
The Amulet of Gwymyrr!
Hand over her mouth, Deirdre stifled a cry of recognition.
Egann's missing talisman. Worn by a clever and ruthless wizard. Thief of dreams, evil murderer. Maccus.
She stared that the amulet. Even in the smoky light underground, the brilliant gemstones gleamed with radiant life. The heavy silver chain lay flat against his broad chest, and his arms were easily twice the size of Deirdre's own. Hands clasped behind his back, he stood in a fighter's stance, legs spread apart and planted firmly on the hard ground. His golden hair was the same color as Egann's, yet dull as well. `Twould appear that this Maccus was a warrior but Fae also.
Even in the shadows, Deirdre could see that his eyes gleamed with lust, though not the ordinary sort of a man for a woman. Nay, this man thirsted for one thing – the power of the magic that the Amulet had awakened in him.
`Twas this man that stood in the way of Egann's goal.
For a moment she saw the thunder of such a battle, and knew fear for Egann and his people. Her stomach clenched.
"I would be King," he said softly, as though he responded to Deirdre's every thought. "I am Hearne, and I wear without harm that which proves me rightful monarch of Rune."
"And of earth." Stepping forward, Ula's expression seemed full of worship and awe. "Never before has one lived who could lead us to such glory.
Hearne acknowledged her comment with a regal nod, watching Deirdre closely. "Know you the legend of how the Shadow Dancers came to be?"
Lifting her chin, Deirdre met his eyes calmly. "Yes, I do. And I also know how the Maccus arrived at their fate."
His expression darkened, but only for a moment. "Then you know that it will take one man to right the grievous wrong done by our ancient ancestors."
"You seek to remove the curse that has haunted the Shadow Dancers over centuries?" Disbelieving, Deirdre held herself utterly still. She would reveal as little of her thoughts to this man as she could.
"And to the Maccus." His arrogant tone rang in the stone enclosed place. "Never forget how the Fae mistreated the Maccus."
Knew he not the true heritage of his own people? They were Fae themselves, only banished from their home that was Rune.
This time, Deirdre knew it would be wise to hold her tongue. This Hearne would not take kindly to the knowledge that she understood the truth behind his words.
He sought only to restore the Maccus to the place of power they had once sought, so
long ago when they had first brought battle against their brothers.
Ula spoke then, after a quick bow of her head in deference to Hearne. "It is because of the Fae that you are condemned to a life of darkness," she said, watching Deirdre with eyes that gleamed in the darkness. "So explain why you, knowing this, traveled with one of them, and he a Prince of Rune besides."
"Egann is a good man." Quickly, Deirdre sought to turn the talk from words of fault. Though in a way, the older dancer was correct – it had been Fae who cast the misdirected spell. She herself had once blamed Egann for this as well.
The smile Ula gave her seemed smug and full of self-importance. "Be that as it may, there are those who would see your prince fail." She darted a quick glance at Hearne, who nodded.
"Fail?" This Deirdre could not comprehend. "Fail at what? I do not understand."
"Enough," Hearne roared. "Understand this, little dancer. Only here, under the earth, can you truly be free from the sway of the moon. Only here can you dictate when and why you dance, or even if you dance at all."
Grinning in agreement, Ula seemed to vibrate with excitement.
Control. So this was the bait they used to entice the Shadow Dancers to join them. Tempting it might seem to some, for utter control of one's actions was the most basic sort of freedom.
But to never have even the faintest hope of one day seeing the sun? To never again see the night sky, stars winking like rare gemstones? What of the wind, and the rain, and the tantalizing scent of fresh mown hay?
"`There is little difference," Hearne said, smiling matter-of-factly, as though her hidden thoughts had been spoke out loud, "from the life of darkness you must all live now, dancing at the bidding of others."
Deirdre tried a different question, out of curiosity to see how Hearne would answer, for she did not now expect to hear him speak a word of truth, only his own misshapen version of it.
"Tell me this then, why do the Maccus hunt and kill Shadow Dancers?"
To her surprise, Hearne seemed to find her comment amusing. "I thought you said you knew the truth of how Shadow Dancers came to be."
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