Shadows of the Keeper

by Karey Brown

  “I fail to understand why I must suffer partial stories and hidden truths.” Emily surged from the chaise, brushing past Garreck. She did not notice the shock on his face, nor his reflexive grasp tightening around the hilt of his ancient sword, regardless his attire, that he was never without.

  Lady Emily’s tirade had been spoken in the Balkorian . . . the language of Lumynari.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Strangers to him, these oaks, pine and elm. Alive and humming, yet not as ancient as his beloved trees of Mt. Grwenwood, nor Brwenwind Forest. Still, he could not refrain from placing his hands upon their bark, enthralled by their stories. And they were plentiful. Never had a forest encountered someone possessing ability to hear them, communicate in return, or laugh at their stiff humor. Stories vibrated and hummed, all speaking on cue, interjecting their bit of the tale like scenes read for a play. Their scratchy voices spoke of warriors he’d viewed in Allen’s books, their coppery bodies painted, these warriors much like Elvenkind, kindred with all creatures of the forest; respectful of nature and all she had to offer. Pine, oak and ash told of catastrophic storms, brethren they’d lost to flames, and humans, the way squirrels tickled when racing—collectively, they silenced.

  She burst into the glen, a ray of light in an otherwise darkened copse. Her hair, an unusual silvery mixture, almost glowed like moonbeams.

  He was spellbound.

  A nymph? Here? But, they had vacated from these lands, long before humans had arrived. Unaware of his presence, she made her way to a flat-topped boulder he’d not been aware of seconds earlier. The rock was large enough in diameter that many men could pull up chairs and conduct council meetings, its top a makeshift table of sorts. He’d also seen the likes used for laying battle maps upon. He shook himself from memories of bloodshed. The woman made swirling motions on the massive rock’s top with her index finger, then placed her palm in its center. Even from here, the Elven prince could hear the boulder begin to hum.

  She vanished!

  Startled, he could only stand there, and try very hard not to have his jaw drop down in a very un-Elven like manner, because . . . for mere seconds, before she’d disappeared, he could have sworn he saw the inside of Castle MacLarrin’s great hall. What sorcery played here? And how was it, Lumynari were seated at a trestle table, breaking their fast with Forest Lords and Lady Emily?

  About to move closer towards where she’d been standing, sudden thrashing of brush and cursing forced him to quickly press back in the shadows of spruce.

  Two males burst into the clearing. Human. Mortal. Aunsgar had never seen such a gargantuan sized man before, his girth easily the size of three men, his legs more like tree stumps than flesh and bone. The other was slight in frame, almost bent with his thinness, and sniffling. Coughing. More sniffling, gasping for breath. He pulled something from his pocket, put it into his mouth and inhaled deeply. Replacing the odd contraption into his pocket, Aunsgar watched the man’s color revive as his breathing eased.

  The woman shimmered.

  The giant lurched, fisted her hair, and yanked back.

  The woman screamed, struggled and was thrown to the ground. The thin man aimed his peculiar weapon at her face. She cowered as the giant put a white stick of sorts in his mouth, then lit it with fire from a small device. Smoke emanated from nostrils large enough to be classified as a snout. Stench of smoke wafted closer to Aunsgar. Almost, the Elven prince gagged. Trees whimpered. His hand still upon the oak, he received hasty visions of these white contraptions causing immense blazes.

  Aunsgar was in a vision. A dream-vision. Yet, unlike before, this time his flesh puckered in the chill winter air, he could smell dank forest debris, and male humans’ sweat, both pungent enough to taste. Her racing heart pulsated in his ears as if it were his own. If closer, he knew he could reach out and touch her just as certainly as he touched these various trees.

  For reasons he’d examine later, he’d been brought here to save her. Muttering incantations he’d not needed in nearly three millennia, his sword suddenly appeared in his hand; around him, air tightened and then released. The ancient war horn of his people sounded, blown from his long dead ancestors. He heard her quick intake of breath. The largest of her enemies spun, nearly toppling from his weight.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “You will release my betrothed.” Aunsgar had no idea what possessed him to make such a claim. Visions weren’t always something one could control.

  The man aimed his weapon. Clicking ensued. Aunsgar was pretty sure something had gone terribly wrong, judging by the startled look on the man’s face. Thin man charged. He too suffered difficulty managing his weapon. As he closed in on Aunsgar, he flipped the long stick around, wielding it as a club. Aunsgar leapt into the air. Spun. Swiped his sword. Descended. His nameless enemy stared, stupefied. Blood seeped from his neck. Aunsgar watched the man fall to his knees, dead before his torso thudded against the ground. Elven prince wasted no time with the enemy still to his back. In one fluid motion, he was airborne, turned, swiped his sword across the enemy, and descended, his own body now a barrier between the woman and the giant, though he knew the male would never again torment this woman.

  The man’s head toppled forward, rolled down his robust frame, and cradle-rocked upon forest debris.

  Behind him, the woman retched.

  Kit, Sister Wind whispered. Kit, Kit, Kit. Laughter faded from the elemental as she gusted upwards towards the canopy. Aunsgar slowly turned and looked down at the woman. Up close, her hair was even more glorious, her bone structure tiny, her fear palpable.

  “Kit?”

  She looked up at him and both froze, stunned. “H-how do you know my name?”

  He stepped back. “How is it your eyes glitter like that of the Lumynari, yet, clearly, you are human?”

  Shaken roughly, Aunsgar opened his eyes.

  Urkani towered over him. Wildly, Aunsgar scanned his surroundings. His private solar. Alba. He’d been napping in front of the hearth . . .

  His commander glowered down at him. Uncharacteristic.

  “Kit,” Aunsgar said, surprised by the weakness of his voice.

  “Still, you seek meaning?”

  “I have, at long last, found the answer to the riddle. She will need me.” Aunsgar swept his long legs over the side of the chaise, sitting up. About to rub his face free of vision-cobwebs, Urkani grabbed his hands. Questioningly, Aunsgar looked up—

  “How are my hands covered with blood?”

  “Perhaps she has already made use of you?”

  “We must prepare. Her peril is not over. She will not have time.”

  “So, this strange word, Kit, is a place where we will find ourselves doing battle?”

  Aunsgar crossed the length of his large private chamber and poured soothing warm water over his hands from an ancient urn. “I sensed Maira’s soul. In this life, she is called Kit. And she will be my wife.” Aunsgar paused his task and lifted his head, staring off. “Her eyes glowed.”

  “Lumynari?”

  Aunsgar made of face of confusion and shrugged his shoulders.

  Urkani passed his liege a drying cloth. “A thousand years, you have searched for meaning. Wife? Lumynari?”

  “For the first time in a thousand years, I feel alive.” Aunsgar dried his face, laughed, and just as abruptly, sobered. “I hope I did not cry out?”

  “No, I had just arrived to tell you Dezenial mentally communicates with Princess Emily.”

  Aunsgar closed his eyes. “I will not allow Forest Lords, nor Pendaran, to once again cause her death. Nor will I allow them to keep her from her one true mate. Not this time.”

  “We will forsake ourselves.”

  Aunsgar grinned. “You hardly seem alarmed by such a notion.”

  “We have awaited the return of our true queen far longer than any of us expected. In such time, we have seen neither Pendaran, nor the Elders. May they all be damned for what they have wrought upon us; what they will wrought
upon Emily, should they return.”

  “Tell me more about Dezenial having communicated with our spirited Emily.”

  “As you will do likewise, and reveal more, this vision of a human possessing Lumynari traits.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “I’ve been here five days! I’m telling you, no one has heard of Castle MacLarrin—MacLarrin period! Okay, I take that back. I was directed to a family bearing the last name, but believe me, dad, they do not own a castle. They referred to me as ‘daft’, then, laughing at me, said if I found a castle displaying their name, to be sure and let them know so they could pack their belongings and move into their new life of leisure. I hate these people; I hate this country. They don’t even drive on the right side of the damn road!”

  “You’re making the wrong contacts. A castle doesn’t just sit somewhere, no one knowing of its existence.”

  Peter sighed overly loud. “Look through your papers again. Make sure you’ve given me the correct address because what you did give me isn’t showing up on my GPS. You sure there wasn’t a phone number? Who conducts business without a phone number?”

  I should kick myself for having not thought to acquire a copy of those damn papers. I could read through them myself versus standing here like a moron.

  “We’ve discussed this. A phone number wasn’t provided, just an email address. I’ve sent several inquiries, but keep receiving something from a daemon-mailer stating address isn’t functioning.”

  “Then, where the hell did you send Emily?”

  Silence.

  “It’s a scam. Someone wanted you in Scotland. Instead, you sent Emily. No telling where the dunce ended up.”

  “Why would anyone want me in Scotland, Peter? I don’t know anyone there.”

  Another sigh. “To get you out of the way,” he articulated.

  “You can change your tone, son. Now, what the hell would someone need me out of the way for? I buy and sell houses. Occasionally, I luck out and sell commercial real estate. So, again, out of the way for what reason?”

  Peter raked fingers through his wavy black hair. “I don’t know. I just know don’t know. Look, the old woman running this Bed & Breakfast made remarks with possible merit. She claims strange stories abound about a mysterious castle.” Peter’s voice indicated his contempt. “It can’t hurt to look into—“

  “What kinds of strange stories? This phone call is costing me a fortune—get to the point!”

  “Supposedly, thousands of years ago, some guy turned his back on a woman of great significance. She was guardian to secrets that would one day enable her to save humanity. Instead, she was murdered, and his clan was cursed with immortality.” Peter rolled his eyes and shook his head as if having this conversation in person with his father and not from the other side of the world, leaning against his rented BMW.

  “He must look a sight.” Chase chortled at his own joke. “Living for a thousand years.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s more. The castle’s shrouded in mists, and exists in another realm.” Peter grimaced. Unbelievable. I’m actually repeating this crap. “The woman alleges it’s nestled between these two mega-sized mountains I’m looking at right now. No telling what’s really behind this ridiculous myth, but I’ll drive on up and take a look.” Peter’s attention fell on the disconcerting hag. She didn’t even bother with discretion as she listened in on his conversation. Her beady eyes made clear she disapproved of nonbelief of her statements. Almost, he told her to get back to her forever sweeping snow from cobblestone walkways. Yesterday, she’d dared recruit him to assist with carrying in wood. He’d quickly set her straight. He was not here to perform manual labor. He wore Armani. He did not do service work. “Look, it’s cold here. Not exactly Texas. Picking up a few sweaters and heading on up the way the woman suggested. Several hours ride, and some shit about where the crow flies, or so I’ve been warned.”’

  “What’s the name of ‘em? Maybe I can navigate where you’re going on my computer.”

  “Beats the hell outa me.”

  “Any word about Emily?”

  “No one recognizes her photo. Hell, that mane of hair alone should jog memories, but, no, so I checked the plane’s manifest. Had to lie, said I was sent to investigate her for child abandonment. Authorities were quick to jump through hoops then.”

  “And?”

  “Her name isn’t on there. Neither is yours. No ticket was purchased in your name, your credit card. Nada. And the flight staff lacked any recollection of her.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?”

  Peter winced as several times, his father beat the phone against something solid. “I’ll hire Don to investigate,” Chase said, sounding worn down. “He slimes around rules. If he can’t find her, you can rest assured, it means she’s dead. I’m curious about that limo driver last seen with her. He’s gone too.” Chase loudly exhaled and Peter recognized sounds of his father smoking again. “None of the staff recall a fill-in for Stuart, hell, even Stuart looks blankly when we ask where he was that day. Says he was never gone and wonders if we’re playing a prank on him. Did you stop by the car rental place? Been in touch with them? They sure chased down my insurance. What about hospitals? Maybe she’s a Jane Doe. Damn it all, somebody crashed that car!”

  “That’s the other thing—“

  “What other thing?!”

  “They didn’t know what I was talking about. I showed the rental clerk a photo and she still didn’t know who I was talking about—“

  “Maybe you were at the wrong one, or it was a different shift when Emily—“

  “I thought of that. I’ve thought of everything you’ve suggested! If you’d give me a minute, and remember you didn’t send an amateur to do this . . . it’s owned and operated by the same person. They don’t generate enough business to hire staff. I asked to see the contract Emily signed. They insisted none existed. None of their cars had been involved in accidents, especially not the kind Emily was supposedly in. The woman straight-faced me better than your poker buddies.”

  Again, silence.

  “Hello?”

  “I’m here,” Chase grumbled. “If no accidents, what the hell am I being billed for?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Seems common ground for you.”

  “Maybe you’d rather be here?”

  “Yeah, maybe. Emily’s in Scotland, but didn’t take any flights. She drove somewhere, crashed a car suddenly no one claims ownership to, and there lacks a contract or a witness to validate these events. No one recognizes her picture. MacLarrin Castle fails to exist. Peter, where is she? My God, what have I sent that child into? You sure you didn’t see her before she left?”

  Well, shit. Ever since he found out I choked the chit, he’s suspected every move I make when it comes to precious Emily. Couldn’t wait to see her shocked expression when I walked down the aisle with another woman, but dear-old-dad had to intervene. Everyone’s worried about sweet little Emily. Dumbass spent good money, sending her here to Scotland. First Class tickets. The seizure of fits mom had . . . good money spent on a baseborn bitch hadn’t sat well with mother. “Relax. No, I never saw her prior to her flight. I’ll drive to these mountains, ask whomever I see if they know of Castle MacLarrin, and contact you in a few days.”

  “Few days my ass! You contact me daily! First time I don’t hear from you, I’m filing a Missing Person’s report. One of you unaccounted for is more than enough!”

  Peter clenched his jaw.

  “Your mother’s walking in the door. Gotta go. This situation has her very distressed.”

  Peter threw the phone into the car. Distress, my ass! Mother suffers for reasons matching my own—your obsession with Emily?! I’m going to kill the little bitch! Screw using her body for a few days. Bash her head in; clear out. How can I be blamed? There’s an impounded wrecked car, blood on the seat and steering wheel. When they find her body, they’ll think someone tried to help her, failed, placed her on the side of the road
. Except, he’d been nearly all over Inverness, showing her photo to any and every able body person he came into contact with. If the rental contract no longer existed, so too, his alibi might have holes. Damn. Maybe I should act a bit more distraught. No, no, then I’ll really be remembered. Need to remain invisible. Easily forgotten. I’ll take this drive, sleep in the car if need be, and if nothing comes of it . . . I’m going home.

  His father could do his own damn searching for precious Emily. I have a wife in New York. Maybe. Margo had stopped accepting his calls at her office. This morning, he’d received the ultimate in recordings: the number to her cell phone was no longer valid.

  Beyond time to find Emily and end this stupid goosechase once and for all!

  * * * * *

  “A reprieve from your training, you will accompany Allen this sunrise.”

  It took Emily long seconds to mentally digest what Urkani was offering. Suspicion replaced surprise. Best remain silent. Sipping her coffee, she eyed her tormentor over its rim. Questioning an Elf commander was never a good idea, or so she’d discovered these past several weeks that he’d been causing her physical mind-screaming pain. Archery, proper sword handling—her pricey instructor had been an idiot! Apparently, quillons are for gouging foreheads and ripping out throats, not artsy fartsy décor on pretty swords.

  Hours upon a barebacked horse—saddle forbidden, no bit, no reigns. Nope. Not allowed. Only a thick padding. Gee, thanks, guy. The proper squeeze of her thighs would communicate to the beast which direction she wished to travel. His mane, Urkani instructed, was for her to steady herself, not to hang on to for dear life. He became truly deranged when she bounced around like a ball in a box, during a simple canter. Hold with thighs. Flow with the horse. Gently grapple the mane. Urkani furthered her conviction he was hell bent on making her life hell when he forced her to master shooting the target with arrows! While the damn horse galloped! Yeah, because that’s a handy trick to have up one’s sleeve. Pfff. By night, she begged every god for mercy while easing her tortured limbs into scalding water.