"Go ahead," Hearne taunted. "Take it, it's yours. Isn't this what you two have been searching for these many nights?"
"Not this." Egann indicated the thing on the ground.
"This insipid necklace is a poor forgery of that which we seek. What have you done with the true Amulet of Gwymyrr?"
To his astonishment, the other man threw back his head and laughed. The loud sound echoed off the cavernous walls, rebounding several times until it finally faded away.
"Do you not recognize your own talisman?"
Though the mockery in the other man's tone infuriated him, Egann clenched his jaw and kept his tone level.
"This is not the Amulet of Gwymyrr. `Tis naught but a bad copy, for no hint of magic resonates from its hollow shell. I say to you again, where is my amulet?"
Smile sly, the Maccus shook his head. Wearing an exaggerated expression of patience, he indicated the silver necklace that remained in the dirt near Egann's feet.
"I have drained the enchantment from the gems, taking the magic into myself." Hearne's eyes glittered, his entire body seeming to radiate with power. "Did you not hear earlier the thing's pitiful cries, as it sought futilely to fight me?"
Egann and Deirdre exchanged a quick glance. The horrible shrieks they had heard had come from the amulet? He did not believe it. Judging from the stubborn set of her chin, neither did Deirdre.
Still, the amulet could sing.
"If you find magic to be so evil, then why do you want to live with it inside you?" Deirdre's softly voiced question drew the other man's gaze. A chill ran down Egann's spine even as he felt Deirdre shiver.
"Only one can have such magic. I will be the one. I will be that which channels my people's power." This declaration Hearne made in a voice that rang with certainty.
"Why?"
"A great wrong was done my people, long ago by yours. History always repeats itself. For we shall fight again an ancient battle, and this time the Maccus are certain to prevail. We shall retake that which is ours by right – Rune. And all because of the Amulet of Gwymyrr." Again he laughed.
Was this true? Egann refused to believe in the certainty of the Maccus' remark. For too long had he heard tales of what would happen to one who wore the Amulet of Gwymyrr without right. Perhaps Hearne only thought he had drained it. Perhaps...
Then why did the ancient gemstones look dull and empty?
With a quick motion, Egann stepped forward and scooped up the silver pendant. It sparked once, a brief flash, a glimmer which quickly faded.
If Hearne had spoken true, Egann now held in his hand that which had been the focus of his and Deirdre's long search. He held in his hand his birthright, the precious repository of centuries of Faerie magic, three gemstones in a heavy silver setting. The spiral chain that he had once refused to wear around his neck ran through his fingers. Was this truly the fabled talisman? The amulet whose song beguiled and enchanted, and had once welcomed him with unrestrained joy.
Silent now, it no longer even recognized his touch.
A great sorrow filled him, then a rage such as he had not felt since the mortal fool had caused Banan's death.
"How dare you," he roared. Closing his hands around the dull silver chain, he took a step forward. "You have no right—"
"I have every right." Still laughing, Hearne made several quick motions with his hands. "While all you have is a worthless bauble."
Knowing the other man's movements meant he invoked some sort of magical spell, Egann tried to summon up enough of his own power to countermand it. Instead of the usual hum beginning in his veins he felt… nothing.
"Some things," Hearne's voice rang out, clear and confident and strong. "Require a sacrifice."
Beside him, Deirdre gave a violent shudder.
"What is happening?" She cried, her voice full of shock and terror. "Egann, help me—"
With cutting boom so loud that the mountain trembled, Deirdre disappeared. One moment she stood beside him, her hand cradled in his. The next, she simply winked out of existence.
And Hearne too vanished.
While rocks fell around him and the dust rose to choke him, Egann stood in stunned disbelief. Instead of Deirdre's fingers, his hand now closed around empty air. Wherever Hearne had gone, he had taken Deirdre with him.
"He has not traveled far." Fiallan's voice reverberated in the small space. "There is another passage, which connects this cave to the one where you met him earlier."
A white owl perched on a stone ledge. Fiallan's other form, the one he wore when he wished to observe in secret.
"Time is of the essence," in a sonorous voice, the elder continued. "Hearne was right about one thing - all too soon will history seek to repeat itself. Take the Amulet of Gwymyrr and go after him."
Egann opened his fist, staring at the now-worthless necklace of muted silver and dulled gems. Without its magic to assist him, he would not be able to follow much more quickly than a mortal could walk.
The central ruby began to glow, like the smoldering embers of a hearth fire. Then, just as quickly as if doused by a bucket of ice water, it dimmed.
Fury burned in him, equally hot, at what this Hearne, this interloper, had done to his people's amulet, the ancient repository of the Fae's magic.
"Your amulet," Fiallan said, reading his mind. "Only you can restore its power."
"Enough." Egann shook his head. "I seek to gather my strength for another attempt to follow them by magical means."
"Your magic deserts you here, under the earth. To regain your power, you must first claim the amulet."
The rest, though unspoken seemed to echo in the cavern.
And thus claim your heritage.
King. And Warrior too.
"What else is a King, but one who cares deeply?"
The question, as so many others asked of him by Fiallan over the years, was rhetorical.
"I have always cared greatly." Egann's response came torn from the very depths of his soul.
"Yet you wished to walk away." The white bird, pristine feathers glowing, watched him with an unblinking stare.
"I believed there would be another." And he had. He had even pictured such a one. Tall and fierce and kingly, he wore Banan's long dead face.
"Another who could care more than you?"
"Nay!" Clenching his jaw, again Egann regarded the amulet. This time the sapphire gem, the current color of Deirdre's eyes, briefly glimmered. "One who could serve my people better. Can you not see? `Tis because my people matter so much that I stepped aside. I could not give them less than capable hands to guard them."
"And what of the woman?"
The woman? His mortal Shadow Dancer? Her he regarded more highly than any other. In fact he—
"I love her." For a second, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw that the emerald gem of the amulet shimmered with green fire.
"To save her you must become King. And in doing so you will save our people."
For an instant, one shattering heartbeat or two, he heard the high, lovely sound of the amulet's song. Feeble and faint, nonetheless the notes seemed to welcome him, to invite him to take back what he had lost.
King.
He took a deep breath.
King.
His stomach clenched.
Yet who else would take up the mantle of power, who else would step forward to save the Fae and Rune and the woman Egann loved? And, even if another man were to do so, would Egann step willingly aside and let another attempt this, the most important rescue in the history of his people?
Nay. For too long had he refused to see that which he carried inside his heart. His love, his heritage, his birthright.
King. He himself, Egann of Rune. For the first time he felt the unshakable bond he and the amulet had always been fated to share. Finally, he accepted his destiny.
Acknowledging the truth of the Wise One's words, Egann lifted the heavy silver chain high.
In tandem, the gemstones glowed – blood
-red, cobalt, and celadon.
Bowing his head, he placed the Amulet of Gwymyrr around his neck. And felt the resonance of its power began to vibrate in his veins.
King. The amulet seemed to whisper.
The white owl vanished.
A moment later, King Egann of Rune inclined his head, and, with a quick motion of his hand, went after the woman he loved and would make his Queen.
* * *
"Tonight, the full moon will rise." Hearne looked at Deirdre expectantly, his wicked eyes glowing. "Soon you will dance."
Pushing away her simmering rage, Deirdre gestured at the hundreds of other Shadow Dancers that gathered in the immense cavern. "What of the others?"
"Oh, they will dance as well."
Though she had no desire to exchange words with this man, Deirdre had to know. "For what purpose?"
At his blank stare, she elaborated. "When I danced for the people of the cliffs, `twas to ensure a fruitful harvest, or to make sure the women would conceive. The magic of the dance always must be used in this manner."
His mouth twisted in a half-leer, half-smile. "So say you. But who is to know for certain if it is true?"
This gave her pause. "Such is the way of Those Who Dance in Shadows."
"Then we shall have a new way." His smile broadened, stretching his face into a grotesque mask of lines that Deirdre found repulsive.
"And when you have finished the dance, you shall feel the kiss of the sun for the first time."
Uncomprehending she could only gape at him. Then she collected herself and glanced again at the assembled crowd. A crowd which seemed to swell by the moment as more and more Shadow Dancers joined them.
"The sun?" Though the pounding of her heart seemed to ring in her ears, she took great care to make her voice sound unconcerned. "Just me or," waving a hand at the others, "all of us?"
"All of you." His dark gaze seemed to smolder with an unholy excitement. "Eventually. Once the curse has been lifted."
"How?"
"I am more than merely the leader of the Maccus." The confidence in his tone invited her to believe in him as well. "I will be the savior of your people."
Without thinking she blurted out her thoughts. "But you no longer have the Amulet of Gwymyrr."
His laugh sounded hard, cold, forced. "As I said before, that worthless trinket is no longer necessary. I have drained the power from the gemstones, and even now it thrums inside of me."
Was this true? For one tiny moment she found herself actually believing the words of a madman. Hearne sounded persuasive, if not for the strong sense of evil that stubbornly clung to him, especially now.
Yet she could more easily understand why all the others had let themselves be led so easily to the slaughter.
"There is one small problem," Hearne continued. "I have informed the people of this earlier. One must die, one must give her life so that the others might live."
A Sacrifice. Heart sinking, Deirdre knew then that this Maccus meant to kill her.
"How?" She whispered, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin to show him she was not afraid, even though inside she quaked with fear.
"After your dance, when your energy has deserted you, you will lie senseless on the ground. When the sun rises, the bright orb from above will feed upon you, in fire and in light. Though you will die, your sacrifice will be enough to break the spell, the curse, and let the rest of your people be free."
"Why me?"
His expression turned sly. "Know you not that you carry his child?"
Stunned, she could only manage a wordless nod.
"A child of darkness and of light. Of Fae and of one who is more than a mere mortal. Such a child could change the world."
Protectively she cradled her stomach. All of her life she had dreamt of feeling the warm caress of sunlight on her skin. But not this way, not dying on the sacrificial altar of some mad prophet drunk with ill-gained power.
And she knew with utter certainty that her death would not free her people in the way that Hearne stated.
Around her they continued to gather; other Shadow Dancers with bright faces and hopeful smiles, avoiding her gaze, along with black cloaked Maccus with their burning eyes, simply staring.
Earlier, Hearne had used silver-tongued words to whip them into a frenzy. Now they believed her death would win their freedom. That by dying, she would lift the curse that had haunted them for generations.
Setting her jaw, she looked up at Hearne defiantly. "I will not let you kill my babe."
"Such a small sacrifice to make, for the greater good of your race."
"I will not go willingly," she warned.
Ignoring her, Hearne lifted his hand in a regal wave to the growing crowd. "After your body is reduced to nothing more than ashes, I will lead the others forth, into the bright light of day, where they may feel for the first time the warmth of sunlight on their skin."
Deirdre recoiled. "All the Shadow Dancers will die," she whispered in horror, reading the answer in his smug expression. "You mean to lead them into the sun once you have killed me."
"Your death will save them," he repeated. "And an archaic debt repaid."
An undercurrent of insincerity rang in the Maccus leader's strident tones. Even he did not truly believe he could lift the curse of her people. As if he even wanted to. Though he might pretend otherwise, she realized that Hearne, like all the Maccus, wanted only rid the world of the Shadow Dancers, for in doing so he believed he could release the ancient obligation the Maccus owed for a long-ago war and a curse gone awry.
"This thing you mean to do—"
"Will do," he corrected. "For there is no one that can stop me."
With unshakable faith, Deirdre drew herself up. She straightened her shoulders, tossed her hair back, and met the madman's burning gaze.
"Ah, but there is. You have left out one important part of this historic moment." Expectantly, she cocked her head and adopted an attitude of intense listening. "Any moment now—"
With a sharp clap like thunder, Egann appeared - an avenging warrior of Fae, bright and golden in the dim light of the smoky cave, the Amulet of Gwymyrr sparkling around his neck.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The amulet felt hot against Egann's chest as he channeled its rising energy to go after Hearne. When he materialized in the murky darkness of the Maccus' underground lair, his fury burned in him with the strength of a hundred fires.
He would settle this, and quickly. But first, he must ensure Deirdre's safety.
His gaze met hers, drawn across the smoky gloom like lightening to metal. Her lips parted, and he read his name on her silent tongue, hearing her wordless entreaty as clearly as if she'd shouted it out loud.
"At last," Hearne roared, towering over Deirdre, a glittering giant tarnished by his madness. "You are just in time to witness the changing of the world."
The instant Hearne spoke those words the stone walls themselves began to shift with a great grinding of rock. The roof of the cave slid back, painful in its slowness, and the starry night sky became visible by inches.
Air rushed in – night air, scented with salt and sea and sand. The murkiness vanished as quickly as if taken by a spell. And the moon – full and ripe – bathed them in silver. The seductive pull of its lush fullness brought forth from the assembled Shadow Dancers a collective groan. Yet as one they remained huddling under a stone overhang, still in darkness, which must have given them some sort of protection from the moon's siren call.
In the center of it all stood Hearne and his captive Shadow Dancer.
Then Hearne moved back and Deirdre, Egann's Deirdre, stood alone in the center of the stone bowl, glowing opalescent in the moonlight. Glorious eyes closed, face turned up to the silver moon, she began to dance.
About to move forward and pull her away, Egann halted. Though he had witnessed her dance but once before, he recognized in this a subtle difference. When her eyes flew open and her steady gaze locked on his, he realiz
ed what the difference was. The ripe moon, though seductive, compelled her not. Deirdre no longer danced for others. Of her own free will, this dance was for herself.
And for him.
With every sinuous movement, every sweet sway of hip, she called him. Against his chest, the amulet recognized the call, and began to hum a low-pitched melody.
He knew then, what he must do.
Moving forward, Egann paid no mind to the assembled crowd of Hearne's followers, nor to the madman himself. Every fiber in his body, nay in his soul, urged him onward, until he took Deirdre's delicate hand in his and began to dance with her.
The amulet began to glow. Her hum became louder, more melodious.
Around them, the air filled with glitter – shards of moonbeams mingled with magic – and a few of the assembled shadow dancers took tentative steps into the moonlight.
A white owl circled, a flash of alabaster feathers, a sharp cry that might have been joy or might have been a hunter's sound.
Egann cared not. Touching Deirdre, he knew fully now the all-encompassing thrill of the Shadow Dancer's Moon Dance.
Intricately woven, each movement seemed a part to an incantation, a spell spoken to a magic deeper than time and too powerful for mere words.
He lost himself in it – and in her. Together they were joined, with only the touch of the other's hand to connect them, yet one with each other, with the moon, the sea, the stars.
They danced their love – no words passing between them, though he knew she understood his silent declaration. And he received it back, his love in equal measure, finally acknowledging that in Deirdre he had found his one true mate, the only woman who could ever be his queen.
The power built, surrounding them with the visible thrum of energy, the amulet sparkling brighter each time their bodies touched. He could feel magic all around him; inside him too, as his blood pulsed through his veins and his strength increased with each heartbeat.
He became conscious of another spark, the flame of another life that burned inside of Deirdre. In wonder and shock he gazed at her, seeing in the sweet curve of her ripe body the truth of what he had envisioned.
She met his startled gaze with a smile.
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