Shadows of the Keeper

by Karey Brown

  “So it is rumored. My mother manipulates and dangles his ilk like puppets. He thinks to plot against her. Company she keeps is not my concern, only when it crosses over into my domain. My mother and I parted company three thousand years ago. Amends have never been made, nor will they be.”

  “Why do you not embrace all that you are? You will need the power that has always been yours for the taking. Your skill with blade will be wasted against prophecy of Drakar’s intentions. If he possesses his mother’s magicks, his own honed after so many ages of existence, plus your mother’s vile power . . .” she glanced Inzyr. “Is this your intent with Lady Emily? Take advantage of her hidden power, turning her into one of your priestesses—the ultimate power against Drakar . . . against Shadow?”

  “Emily belongs to me, Princess Aurelia, exiled Queen of the Realm. I would join her in the light, not keep her in darkness, as your Elders did you.”

  Cold laughter filled the large living area, so unlike Emily’s wild abandonment of giggles that always promised tomfoolery. Or a scathing retort.

  “Mention of my sacrifice does not bode ill my feelings towards you. My revelation will be enough revenge for your slight. You see, I lack knowledge of how to return to those cloaked lands. Very perplexing, isn’t it? You do not seek the Keeper’s power?”

  “I sought to protect. It was not my intention to claim your soul only to have you die from my world again.”

  “Yet, Emily is now your mate.”

  “The woman vexes me.”

  “She is madly in love with you, Lord Dezenial. Do you understand what power that gives you over her? The woman is a fool.”

  “As she takes in air, she is my ability to breathe as well.” He would not lose Emily to this ferocious, cold warrior. He was well aware that this specter standing before him had the power to have Emily awaken completely despising him. It would be irrevocable. It would be his death. Never, could he live without Emily. The realization nearly had him flopping to the floor.

  Aurelia nodded. “A gift, I present to you.”

  “I need no gift, warrior princess.”

  Her eyes took on such bravery, such fierce determination, he was riddled with remorse for having not located her soon enough in her own life, that he could have given her warmth in a world that had only shown her coldness and contempt.

  But, something about Emily made him walk away from millennia upon millennia of abhorring mortals and welcome his new position as their protector.

  “If you wish her to be better prepared against Drakar, then you will cherish my offer. Mock me, you will not, for my offer is given grudgingly, Lumynari. I do not know if the modern is ready to face what she truly is. Have you explained life with you, and what that accurately means? My time ends. I will sever ties with Emily. It is her turn to guide this ancient soul. I have used the last of my strength, and a bit of help from your father, to journey into your world, seeking revelations. You will tell her your motives. And, you will tell her the truth of who and what you are.” Her scrutiny flicked to Inzyr. “You will tell her the truth of her heritage. You cannot keep it from her.”

  “And what revelations did your journey here garner, Princess?” Dezenial asked.

  “That I leave a foolishly in love woman in very capable hands with no other motive than that which the two of you claim. If only the Elders had granted me the same.”

  Emily’s entire body glowed for mere seconds, then diffused. She stumbled. Grabbed a chair, and gulped huge mouthfuls of air. “Dizzy.”

  Dezenial remained rooted.

  “I had . . . and episode . . . didn’t I?”

  “So it would seem.”

  Perplexed by his tone, she tried focusing on his face. “You’re angry. Did I attack?” Her father had his sword drawn. Not good. “I always attacked . . . Broc.”

  “It is too bad you did not succeed. But his blood spilled will be by my hand, nonetheless.”

  “You must tell her,” Inzyr stated. He lowered his weapon; his stance remained battle-ready.

  Oh, this is bad. Emily inhaled slowly, deeply, and did her best to shake off the dizziness. She’d felt a tingling sensation, but before she could shout for help, her conscious had been stamped out. She clutched the chair tighter, her body trembling.

  “Look at me,” her husband commanded. His voice terrified her. “When you come into your full power, I may not be able to proceed with you.”

  “I hate riddles.”

  A deep breath swelled him. A look passed between he and Inzyr.

  “I wish to take you above ground, Emily, and share your life with you. I will never allow you to be denied your sun, your stars, nor the wind in your hair. I would see things by light of day, versus this perpetual darkness I have opted to remain in for ten millennia.” Proudly, he stalked. “But, set you free I will, once you have taken control of your power, living another eternity without you, before I succumb you to the prison that is our way down here. For you will go mad, Keer’dra, and in that madness, I will become your nightmare, your reason for hatred beyond anything you would be able to control. And that is the desire of Drakar . . . of Shadow. Obliterate your mind with terror and darkness, then unleash your power against mankind; rejoice in your madness. And, sweet Emily, it is why I shunned my father’s desire to join him. Who would have protected you? Who would have known firsthand plots and deviations my mother has routed in order to find you?” And still, he moved closer. “Having lost you twice, it was preferable to submerge amongst Lumynari hatred. Now, you are here.”

  “Becoming the Dark Prince, defender of mortals, brings you much regret?”

  “Princess Emily of Quemori, Keeper of The Elders’ magicks, you will always require protection. We are bound for eternity. I took my oath with full knowledge it was to remain by your side forever.”

  “As guardian?”

  “As lover. Mate,” azure eyes narrowed. “Husband.”

  “There’s more, isn’t there? A very bad more.”

  “Vaifyr.”

  Instead of facing her father, she closed her eyes. “Tell me.”

  “There exists a goddess denied her beauty as punishment for atrocities not of her choosing,” Inzyr began, his voice low and even. “Vipers in place of her hair.”

  “Medusa.”

  “Lovers fail to exist. A woman becomes . . . lonely, no matter her vileness.”

  Emily’s eyes snapped open, cold laughter escaping. “Who else would dare approach such rage? Oh, wait, I know—it’s a stretch—Lumynari? I thought she had her head cut off?”

  A terrifying realization washed away her sarcasm. “You were her lover? She really existed? Well, stupid question, considering what I reside amongst. But lovers? With Medusa? Dad. Dude.” Her nose wrinkled. “Didn’t the snakes bite?”

  “I am her son.”

  Amber eyes locked and held ancient amber eyes of her sire. Both hearts pounded. “That would make me . . .” breathing labored.

  “Immortal. And don’t ever call me dude.”

  Her hands fisted. “So, if you’d failed to re-enter my life—“

  “Never an option. I would have one day come for you, vaifyr, your acceptance or not.”

  “Big of you.” Her attention swerved to her husband. “And you? Shall we spring clean your closets as well?” His silence left an array of thoughts converging to their own findings. She allowed subconscious musings to surface, undeniable and dreadful facts linking and locking into place. Dezenial’s sudden expression of dread confirmed her realizations.

  “You’re not just son of Hades and Shadow, wings hidden.” She couldn’t control the spasmodic trembling. “And those fangs, you are right, have absolutely nothing to do with being even close to a vampire.”

  He only offered a negative shake of his head, seemingly content for her to jury her own deductions.

  “Son of Hades. Mythology teaches he’s the god of Underworld. I think I even read somewhere it was the Greeks’ version of Hell.” Her head lolled back, eyed closing
as she continued. “That would make you—“

  “A Daemon.”

  “There was mention of that.” Amber eyes snapped open. “I would see you as you truly are.”

  “Nay, you will not. What you witnessed, during our wedding, is enough.”

  “I’ll be damned—oh, look an accidental pun—if I’m going to push your children from my womb and not know . . . you are going to show me your true—“

  His arms outstretched. His body rose to massive proportions, his flesh becoming thick scales of red, black, and dark blue ribboned with gold. Mega sized dragon wings unfurled, his fingers stretching into deadly talons serving no other purpose than to shred bone and flesh. Black fire erupted at his feet, yet burned nothing. Ember red replaced his eyes, his hair crackling white flames.

  Emily didn’t move.

  “Come to me, Keer’dra,” he commanded in a thunderous voice that promised death. He blinked. Eyes returned to azure, and in them, she saw what none living would ever see, should they be so unfortunate as to awaken this beast.

  He feared her revulsion.

  Though her heart had no doubt ceased pulsating blood through her, she charged towards him. Ensconced in his winged embrace, she tried not to dwell on what held her; that lethal talons combed her hair. “Keer’dra,” he rasped, “now do you understand?”

  “That telling you to ‘go to Hell’ is redundant? Uh huh. Absolutely. Yep-yep.”

  Her father’s laughter eased the moment. Dezenial unwrapped his wings from around her. Her scalp tightened. “Dez?!” Without warning, she clawed him for balance. “I can’t see! Dezenial!” Wings snapped, enfolding her again.

  “Lean against me.”

  “I feel so . . . weird.” She shook her head, trying to clear the dips and sways. “I’m standing on a wave.”

  She felt herself lifted. “Keer’dra?”

  Her head lolled. Dezenial retracted his wings, hands returning to normal as he placed her gently upon her father’s couch. He wedged his booted foot on the other side of her, into the depths of the cushions. In a fashion of straddling her, a serrated blade settled into his open palm.

  “You will make it quick.”

  “I will not receive joy in what I must do, but I will not allow her to suffer,” Dezenial stated, his weapon poised, ready, waiting. If Aurelia had somehow made good her threat and Emily awakened insane, she would be beyond dangerous. She would become what his mother was. One goddess wielding such fury, combined with magicks . . . Emily’s eyes fluttered. Dezenial was unaware he held his breath.

  “Orut quaten cefar.” She grinned.

  Dezenial searched her mind. He reared, taking his stance from over her with him. His look of awe puzzled Inzyr. A cutlass manifested in the assassin’s hand.

  “Do you remain connected with her mind?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you see?” Inzyr asked, scrutinizing his daughter. If she were now an enemy, his couch would be her deathbed. She’d said ‘the warrior kills’ in perfect Balkorian. He could barely succeed in having her properly repeat fundamental words. Emily sat up, swung her legs off the couch. His daughter had not been born with the knowledge all Lumynari are born to. She did not know their language in the least.

  “They move closer, you know. They seek to take me, using the priestess at the door as their way in.” Emily rubbed her temples. “Tell him before he thinks to slice and dice me, forcing me to rip his throat out.”

  Inzyr snorted, his weapon vanishing. “Only my vaifyr would dare such impudence.”

  “She has been granted ability of our language and that of the Mountain Elves. She has been gifted with power . . . yet, not quite. It is . . . odd.” Dezenial hesitated but a moment before proud continence resumed. His stance was both regal and dominant. “You will look at me,” he commanded, satisfied with her quick compliance. “I will have you tell me.”

  “I simply know things now.” Her head tilted. “Does it disturb you that I will understand your conversations with my father?”

  He hunkered down in front of her, his long white hair shrouding his wide shoulders. “It is more comfortable to speak in my language. It fails to have consequences you assume.” He searched her eyes.

  Inzyr sauntered back to his post, satisfied Emily remained his daughter. He refused to dwell on the fact that Aurelia’s spirit had thrown both he and Dezenial around as if they were nothing more than sticks.

  Emily stared back at her husband. “What is it you seek, Dezenial? Ah. I see.” She caressed the strong tendons at the back of his neck and pulled him close. “Perhaps this will convince you my feelings haven’t changed.” She licked his sensuous lips before probing for entrance. Grabbing fistfuls of her hair, he yanked her off the couch, allowing her to receive what she requested. She was the first to pull away, easing down to stand on her own feet. “Don’t worry, Killer, you’re still in command.” A playful shove, delighting in the hesitant grin she was able to steal from him before his scowl returned. “Dez?” It was her turn to search his eyes. “Don’t leave me, now that I’ve changed, okay?”

  “I have told you, Keer’dra, you belong to me.”

  He stepped back and briskly rejoined her father; to leash emotions he’d never experienced. And none too soon. Drakar’s boldness grew. The perpetrator’s spies were passing themselves off as vendors. Tonight’s arena was about to acquire more participants.

  “She lacks awareness of her power,” Dezenial whispered.

  “It is as before, equating your own?”

  “Yes, but I can conjure mine at will, her temper ignites hers.”

  “Then, at all costs, keep her humored.” The assassin laughed outright at his liege’s annoyance.

  Emily smiled, hearing both males chuckling like conspiring little boys. She assumed another arena recruiting incident unfolded in the market-square, and being males, it was likened to a boxing match for them. They probably had already placed bets.

  She leaned back, sighed loudly, and missed the visual caress Dezenial gave her. Sinking into the down-filled pillows amassed on her dad’s couch, she stole a few minutes to mentally rest. What a day! Too many revelations. Overload of knowledge. Nice, cold glass of white wine—

  “Dezenial!”

  Suddenly, he was next to her. Shakily, she pointed at the frosty glass of wine. “I was thinking how thirsty . . . how nice wine . . .” She started shaking.

  “Inzyr, my elite are here to eradicate the offenders, but for now, your daughter and I return to the palace.”

  “As you say, so it will be done. I will enjoy this bloodbath.”

  “Yes, I knew you would. Come to me, Keer’dra.”

  Bounding away from the mocking goblet that had out-of-nowhere appeared, she crashed into his solidness. Encircled in powerful arms, she heard his heartbeat, its cadence soothing her. “I’m scared. This is more . . .” she buried her head into him.

  “This is nothing; however, if you imagine something like an ogre,” he chuckled. “Then we have problems.”

  She hit him.

  “A great battle is beyond avoidance. We must prepare you to be in more control of whatever power you’ve been deigned to have. My palace will offer safety.”

  “From Drakar?”

  “Yes, Keer’dra.”

  “Can’t you just turn into that demon—“

  “Daemon.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  “One protects mortals, the other rather enjoys feasting on them.”

  “Gee, thanks for that. Turn into a Daemon-thingy and zap him into brimstone.”

  Inzyr chortled.

  “My mother protects him, though I’ve a suspicion her graciousness is coming to an end.”

  “I don’t want to keep looking over my shoulder. I don’t want to be part of this battle.”

  “The Outlander is part of this as well.”

  “I won’t return to him, Dezenial. I will not! I won’t let you send me away—“ she yanked from him. His strength far outweighed her
puny attempt.

  “It no longer remains a choice for you to be privileged with. As I have stated, you belong to me.” He held her tight. “I will kill your Forest Lord, if he thinks to ever again harm you with words. For you, for your human side, I grant him this one reprieve. I will not play the humanitarian a second time.” His hand moved to the back of her head, fisting her hair. “Tell me.”

  “I am yours.”

  “No battle?”

  “Not very effective, since we’re both standing here clothed.”

  “Ha!” Inzyr snickered. “My chambers are no longer graciously given. Out. Both of you.” A cutlass appeared in one hand, a serrated dagger in another. “A bloodbath is about to unfold.” His smile caused Emily’s heart to hiccup. “And right outside my door. I do appreciate the convenience, my liege.”

  Dezenial’s mouth twitched with amusement. “As always, I aim to please.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “Is there pain?”

  A cursory glance at his captain, and Broc resumed staring into Elvish fire. He absorbed none of its warmth, this blackest of nights. “Nay.”

  “The fire has captivated ye’ for long hours, brother.” Garreck settled next to his laird, clutching furs closer around himself. “Damn, but it’s cold. No’ used ta’ long nights out in the open. We’ve become coddled, what with our hearths, roofs, and bedding.” He watched his breath billow away before speaking again. “We assumed after the bonding wi’ Blade, ye’ needed time alone.” He leaned closer, conspiratorially. “ ‘Twas helluva sight ta’ witness. Ye’ve no’ spoken of it, these past days.”

  “She eavesdropped. My words of anger were the last she heard before her abduction.”

  “ ‘S’blood! I warned ye’, have I not? Yer’ temper and its bite.” Garreck eyed the dark void just beyond the bonfire where light of flame yielded nothing. Thank Danu for the accompaniment of Elves and their uncanny eyesight. Otherwise, they could be surrounded by Lumynari, and remain none the wiser—‘til their heads were rolling around in the snow. Garreck poked a log, sparks showering. He watched them for a time, reminded of fireflies in Quemori. A home, no longer his. He’d been in this strange land far longer than the other. He knew not whether he would bother to ever return, should such a time come upon them to make the journey to Quemori. He gave his brother a sidelong glance. Aye, words of anger indeed! The Celt had shared with him, Broc’s words of hate; words of filthy accusations. Another reason he knew his time, as part of Clan MacLarrin, was coming to an end. He had no desire to be laird; he had even less desire to continue as captain for Broc. The mohn’s temper had crossed lines he could no longer stomach. Remain and eventually lift a sword against his brother, or embark on a journey into the modern’s realm, for, aye, tha’ was where he would make his way. Edinburgh called to him, its ancient stones comingling with modern comforts. But, for now, he would see through his duty to his brother, their present circumstances no’ a time fer’ personal endeavors.