"I do not know," he admitted. "Though men find truth and wisdom inside, `tis said the cave speaks differently to women. Some say it is the unbroken darkness, the sense that the walls narrow and close in. Others mention the voices of the past which are said to echo in eternal whispers from within the stone itself. No one knows for certain, as the poor victims were not coherent enough to tell."
Still watching him, she shrugged. "Worry not. I do not think this can be worse than that foul place under the earth where Ula took me." Bravado and confidence sounded in her husky voice, and again Egann found himself full of pride. She had an uncommonly brave spirit, this mortal woman of his, and he longed to kiss her yet again, though he did not.
Kissing Deirdre made him forget everything else.
Instantly, he felt himself harden. Her quick intake of breath told him that she felt his arousal pressing against her. Her nipples pebbled beneath his hand, begging for his touch. Mindless with desire, he cupped her full breast with one hand, stroking, kneading.
She moaned into his mouth and writhed against him. As he considered plunging himself into her, standing there in the sand at the base of the cave, another shriek, sudden and sharp, issued forth from the cave entrance above.
He jerked himself away, stumbling backwards in the shifting sand.
"Come. Hold fast to my hand," he instructed. "No matter what you see or hear, do not let go."
Pulling on her hand, they made their way carefully up the slippery steps carved in stone and wet with ocean spray. Once again the air had gone silent, yet Egann felt again the ever-persuasive pull of the Amulet of Gwymyrr.
"The cry of the amulet grows faint," he mused out loud.
They stood on a small, smooth ledge of rock, mere feet from the entrance to the cave.
"I do not hear the song, neither lament nor cry."
"Neither do I. Rather, I sense something, a slight leaving of magic." Glancing once more at Deirdre, he squeezed her hand. "Are you ready to go within?"
She gave a wordless nod, her perfect pale face a study in determination, the ever present moonlight giving her an alabaster glow.
Egann forced himself to concentrate on the task in front of them. "Remember what I have told you. No matter what you see or hear, do not let go of my hand."
A sudden gust of wind brought ocean spray, gently misting her face. "The tide comes in," she said, licking her lips with a quick movement of tongue that reminded him of her small pet. "What if it rises so much that we are trapped within this terrible cave?"
"It will not." He spoke with more confidence than he felt. For an instant he wished that things could have the simplicity of childhood, or of dreams. How much easier life would be if he could simply say the words to a magical spell and draw the amulet to him.
"I see," she said. He saw her swallow hard, then she set her jaw in that stubborn line he had come to know so well. This, despite the possible danger that lay ahead of them, made him smile.
Into the ringing silence they stepped, their footsteps echoing on rock. Once inside the small stone opening, the darkness was not immediately absolute; `twas similar to the other cave in that. Egann could see well enough to determine that there was only one passage leading away, this one most likely went down deep into the bowels of the earth as well.
He could feel the ancient vibration of magic, the thrum of deep-rooted power. So strong was it that he felt off-balance, uneasy and uncertain, for he could not tell if this energy came from good or from evil. To such a place had Hearne brought the Amulet of Gwymyrr.
With Deirdre holding fast to his hand, they began the descent, the chill in the air growing more pronounced when they had merely gone a few feet. One turn and the light vanished, enveloping them in darkness. `Twas slow going in the now total blackness, but the sloped path was smooth and even and, since there was only one direction they could go, finding their way seemed a simple enough task.
"I cannot even see my hand in front of my face." Deirdre sounded peevish. "I like this not."
"Soon it will be better," he soothed, though he knew not if he spoke truth. "`Tis not so bad really, and the faint pull of the amulet tells me we travel in the right direction."
She sighed but said nothing more, only clutching his hand and keeping pace with his cautious stride.
Naught appeared out of the ordinary; indeed he found he enjoyed the quiet that was broken only by the soft sound of their footfalls. He might have even have relaxed the slightest bit, had he not heard Deirdre's startled gasp and felt her hand tremble.
Madness comes to the woman foolish enough to enter the Cave of Myrddin. The old saying came back to haunt him. But that only applied to women of Fae. Deirdre was mortal and therefore, would have naught to worry about on that score.
"What is it?" His whisper sounded overloud.
She did not answer at first, though her breathing had become harsh and rapid. He pulled her closer, wishing he had a torch or some other kind of light so that he might see her face.
"What is this thing?" She moved, giving him the impression that she swatted at the air with her other hand. "Why does it swirl around me, insubstantial as mist, yet solid enough for the faintest of teasing touches?"
"I do not feel it," he said, letting her know from the tone of his voice that her remark troubled him.
"Still the shadow tortures me." She sounded bleak. "I would give much to be able to see it."
Egann increased their pace, not sure if they could simply outrun this wraith or spirit that apparently sought to drive Deirdre mad, but willing to try. She kept pace with him, the harsh gasps of her breathing to his ears sounding both sexual and frightening at the same time, which disturbed him even more.
Deep within the earth they traveled. Unlike the other caves, this stone passage did not widen into cavernous chambers. Rather, it seemed to continue in an unerring line ever downward, the blackness absolute.
When Deirdre moaned, he felt a twinge of real alarm. He had not truly believed that his Shadow Dancer would face the same dangers as other, ordinary mortal women. Yet the sounds she made now spoke of some kind of suffering, though she continued to move with him, keeping pace at his side, her hand, while occasionally twitching, still firmly within his grip.
"Egann, make it stop." Her request came a harsh whisper, pleasure and pain mingled as one in her smoky voice.
"What is it that you wish me to stop?" he shot back, considering scooping her up in his arms and simply carrying her. Perhaps that would afford her some protection from her ethereal tormenter.
Panting now, she moaned again, her soft cries reminding him of the sweet sounds she made when he pleasured her body.
"I feel a touch," she gasped, her breathless whisper ending on a sigh. "Sensual like yours. It strokes me, enflames me, and brings me to the edge of the peak over and over, without consummation! Stop it, or finish it, I can no longer say which, but can bear the torment no longer. I need to feel you inside of me."
Vivid images danced before him in the utter darkness. Deirdre, nipples swollen and pouty, her body aroused and sensual and beautiful, begging for his touch.
"I sense nothing!" he protested, his manhood swelling and throbbing as the erotic thoughts aroused him.
"Then whose caress is this?" She staggered; only his firm grip on her hand kept her from falling. "I can take this sweet torment no more."
"Morthar's blood," he cursed, ignoring his own fierce arousal. He gathered her up in his arms in one motion, lifting her so that he might carry her close to his chest. "I will hold you."
"Nay," she protested, even as her feet left the ground. To his shock she began to struggle, fighting his touch with the mindless fury of a wounded animal. To his shock he heard her clothing tear. Her full breasts brushed against his chest, her nipples pebbled and full, causing his engorged body to stiffen further. He clenched his teeth, remembering the curse of the cave, and tried to tell himself he meant only to somehow help Deirdre get through this and remain sane.
Still, he could not hold her; with the way she fought he would be lucky to keep his own feet firmly planted on the smooth slope of the stone path. So, releasing her with great care, he tried to lessen the impact should she fall with one arm cradled under her full breasts.
Her frantic movements ceased as she felt his hold on her slacken. She slid down the front of him, another soft cry escaping her. Grabbing for his hand, she moved it between her legs, sliding it against her. By the Goddess! He felt the moist honey of her desire, even as she pressed herself against him, leaving no doubt that she was fully aroused.
His own body, already hard beyond belief, responded. Though he tried to warn himself against the treacherous cave, he struggled to control his lust. It raged through him, consumed him, and urged him to do one thing, one thing only. To plunge his swollen staff deep within her honeyed sheath. Over and over and over until they were both mindless with pleasure.
"Nay," he shouted the word in defiance, hearing its faint echo down the passage, "I will not be overcome so easily."
"Give me what I need and end this torture," her voice was a breathless purr.
The utter darkness meant he could not see her, but this only served to enhance his other senses. She caressed him, her touch both soft and forceful, capturing his nipple between her fingernails and gently pinching, then skittering down the expanse of his chest, inside his braes to capture his swollen rod in her hand.
He felt himself surge at her touch, helplessly pump as she caressed him and squeezed him.
"Stop," he gritted out. "We must continue on to find the—"
She sank to her knees and her mouth, warm and wet and tight, closed over his swollen length. He could not speak. Could not think, could only moan as took him again and again.
Somehow, even though he shook with the force of his need, he found the strength to bring his hands up to her shoulders and hold her off.
"Deirdre—"
"I want you." Her words were a soft sigh, her breath against his turgid head. Then abruptly, she let him go, aching and throbbing. She rose and embraced him with her slender arms. Of his own accord, he felt his own arms go around her and hold her.
Then she arched her back, placing herself in such away that her woman's center touched the swollen tip of him. His manhood seemed to surge of its own volition and, with a shattered groan, he pushed himself into her, telling himself it would be only a little, just a sample, just enough to feel – oh, By the Breath of Morthar, he could not resist such sweet temptation. He dove into her, she met him in kind, and still standing, he held her while he gave himself over to the exquisite pleasure of her body.
"Egann," she moaned his name. He felt her sheath clench tight around him as she shuddered, finding her own release in waves that seemed to go on forever. This was his undoing; he could hold himself back no longer, and with one final thrust he shattered.
While their heartbeats slowed he held her, still standing, unable to believe that he had lost control so thoroughly, yet reveling in the total sense of completion that filled him now.
"I though you said magic was suspended under the earth," she said, her breath soft against his chest. "How then—"
"Enchantment lurks in this ancient cave," he told her. "Though I know not why the enchantment choose you."
In his arms she went very still. "What of you?" she asked softly. "Was it not enchantment that drove you to mindless need?"
He did not even have to ponder her question. "No spell moved me," he admitted, giving her the truth at last. "But my own reaction you your desire. I would feel the same no matter where we might be."
"Truly?" Stretching against him, she sighed. "I have felt the same for many days now."
"I might search the world over," he told her, placing a gentle kiss on the soft curve of her neck, "and never find one so precious to me as you."
She went utterly still, no longer murmuring wordless endearments against his chest, and tried to back away, out of his embrace.
"For some reason my words have displeased you?" Refusing to let her go completely, he kept hold of her arm.
"Yes." Her voice sounded sad. She did not resist when he drew her back to him, embracing her again, pushing her long hair away from her face. To his shock and disbelief, he felt the wetness of tears on her cheek.
"Why do you weep?" he asked, wishing he could see her, but knowing she was probably glad now of the darkness.
"No reason." Her answer sounded curt. Then, softening her tone, "Or at least there is no explanation that I can say to you."
He could hear the rustle of her clothing as she sought to adjust her torn gown. Without the benefit of light, she would have no way of knowing how she looked. Nor, he reflected with a wry smile, did he.
"Come, little dancer," he said, knowing she would tell him when she was ready. Deliberately making his tone light, he took her hand. "We have an amulet to find."
* * *
Love. At last she could put a name to the feelings that Egann evoked in her. And, though she knew he did not mean to do so, his words had made her hunger for the promise of a future together. Their lovemaking in the utter darkness had been a sensual experience, yet full of emotion as well. And, while she did not fully understand the ghostly touch that had so aroused her, she somehow suspected it had been but a manifestation of Egann's magical mind.
Was it possible he loved her?
Truly, she knew not how to take his words. He had already made certain that she knew that, once his tasks had been completed, he meant to go roam the world alone. To be rootless, completely without ties, such was his fervent desire. For only then did he believe he could experience the dubious joy of freedom.
Would he never understand that true freedom came from within? Since she had only just arrived at this conclusion herself, she knew it was not something that she could simply tell him. No, Egann would have to learn this truth himself, in his own way and time.
Yet knowing this did nothing to ease her aching heart.
She loved him and she knew she would forever. Such a thing came but once to the life of a Shadow Dancer. `Twas a pity she had given her heart to a man who existed in sunlight, a man who was not mortal, and a man who would leave.
The dry taste of ashes in her mouth, she curled her fingers around his, ready to let him lead her forward.
"Odd, but I sense the amulet no longer," he said.
"Ah, the amulet." She shook her head, wondering if the dratted magical talisman would ever reveal itself fully to them. "Do you still sense its presence?"
No answer. And his hand no longer held hers.
"Egann?" Nothing. She felt the blackness closing in on her. She found it hard to draw breath.
"Egann?" How her voice wobbled, trembled, hinting at the rising terror that she would not acknowledge.
No response. She would not panic, could not afford such foolishness, not now.
Raising her voice, called again. "Egann."
Knowing he would not willingly leave her did not help allay her rising panic. Remembering his warning tale of madness, she took a deep breath and tried to collect her thoughts.
Yet the fact remained. Egann was gone. She was alone.
Utterly, totally alone.
She had a choice to make. She could turn back, make her way up the steep path, until she emerged into the mouth of the cave. Beyond that the sea and what passed for her as the normal world waited. Now that would be true madness. She nearly laughed out loud.
Of course she would not. Truly, she had no choice, no other option. She would continue down into the earth, alone for now, to try and find Egann so they could face whatever fate awaited them. Together.
Resolve set, she took a tentative step forward. Then another. How she wished she had enough magic to be able to call forth a small fire to create a torch so she could see.
Her stomach clenched. Even Egann, who truly had magic, had told her that his magic vanished when under the earth.
Except in this enchanted cave.
/> Deirdre spun around, hating the utter lack of sight. The voice had come from nowhere, yet seemed to echo everywhere. Was this perhaps the shadowy spirit who had stroked and aroused her earlier?
Even the amulet is powerless here.
Mayhap this was the madness Egann had spoken of. Never before had she heard voices, even in her dreams when the visions came to her.
She would not let such a thing sway her. Determined, she continued to move forward and downward, always downward.
Your power has grown. The insidious whisper continued, volume rising to an echoing hiss. For you are a child of the darkness, and should be truly at home in this place.
At that Deirdre faltered, though she quickly recovered her stride. She would not dignify the presence by responding to it, especially when it baited her with half-truths and lies.
Your power truly has grown, mortal woman. Perhaps your Prince Egann will have need of you after all.
This nearly gave her pause. After all, Egann had said the cave was known for revealing truths. What if –
She shook her head, setting her jaw. How easily she had nearly been seduced by the mere temptation of power. As if a cave-spirit could bestow such a thing, merely by speaking it.
Especially now, the whisper turned malicious, so loud it carried a faint echo.
When it did not finish, she knew the thing waited for her to ask the question, but she would not. Her footsteps sure and steady, she continued her progress and pretended she did not hear.
Especially now! The whisper became a roar, and Deirdre fancied she actually felt the earth tremble. How powerful was this spirit, that its voice could make the ground shake.
If the walls collapsed she would be trapped here, buried alive beneath tons of dirt and stone, with no hope of ever seeing the sunlight, or of touching Egann's beloved face once more. Her stomach clenched. No! Twas another trick. She would not allow the fear to claim her, nor sway her from her path.
Do you not want to know the answer? Once again the voice turned soothing, sly. Though she did want to know, quite badly in fact, Deirdre clamped her lips together and held her breath, waiting silently.
Shadow Magic Page 19