Shadow Magic (21 page)

             
Her lovely eyes widened.  Violet now, they glowed with the color of some rare flower.  Fascinated, Egann felt he could easily drown in their depths if he were not careful.

Deliberately, he looked away. 

              "Your eyes have changed color again."  He kept his tone flat, feigning disinterest. 

             
She shrugged, the slight movement causing his body to stir.  "This does not surprise me.  I have never understood what it is that makes them change, or why."

             
"Most likely it is some residue of the magic inside you that manifests itself thusly when affected by mine."  Fixing his gaze on the dark horizon, Egann nudged Weylyn into a brisk walk.  To his relief, Deirdre turned around to face front again.

             
"Odd," she mused.  "Though we have ridden many hours, and this night has been long, I do not sense the arrival of morning on the breeze from the sea.  How can that be?"

             
"Time passes differently when one travels between worlds."

             
"Is that what we did?"

             
He detected a faint hint of confusion in her husky voice.  No wonder, for what mortal could possibly understand the intricate workings of magical travel? 

Lowering his gaze to the back of her head, he found himself breaking into a wry grin, knowing he would have to try to explain. 

              "We did not go to Rune," she told him, when he did not immediately answer.  "So tell me how it is that we have traveled between worlds."

             
With a mock sigh, he shifted in the saddle, knowing that she would no doubt feel the slight movement in much the same way he'd felt her shrug.

             
"There are many worlds that make up the fabric of time.  Many existences, many levels.  Since I cannot take you to Rune, we but dipped into another place before I brought us here."

             
As though agreeing, Weylyn nickered. 

             
"So this means that we might yet have many hours until morning?"  Though she asked her question in a weary voice, Egann could hear the undercurrent of excitement that she tried to hide from him.

             
He fought the urge to bend and place a kiss on the soft skin at the curve of her jaw.  "Aye," he sounded gruff he knew, but there was no help for it, "you may yet have hours before you must find a place to sleep."

Weylyn snorted a loud warning. 

              Immediately, Egann tensed.  Though a quick search of the area revealed nothing, he trusted the horse implicitly. 

             
"We must go," Egann said.

             
Weylyn needed no second urging.  Wheeling from the bluffs, he broke into a brisk trot.  Deirdre let out a soft cry as she bounced hard against Egann.

             
"I'm sorry," she muttered.  Half-turned, her words were a gasp as the jolt of the horse's gait brushed her full breasts against his arm. 

             
Egann clenched his jaw to stifle his groan.  Never before had he known a woman's innocent motions to cause him such torment.  Even the practiced wiles of the most beautiful women of Fae had not aroused him so easily. 

             
And, strangest of all, Deirdre did not even seem to realize what effect she had on him.  Or did she?

             
Through narrowed eyes he watched her, so caught up in trying to determine her attraction for him that her next question startled him.

             
"Egann?"  Still half-facing him, her expression seemed troubled.  "To where do we ride with such speed?"

             
It took him a moment to drag his attention away from her lush lips.  "I believe the Maccus make camp nearby.  If we make haste, I shall have the advantage of surprise."

             
"What of me?"  Though she sounded unperturbed as she asked the question, he knew from her involuntary shudder that she was afraid.  "What will you do with me when you ride on the Maccus?"

             
Now he touched her; he could not help himself.  With his arm he brought her close, so that her head rested against his chest.  "Do not worry, little dancer. You shall be in no danger. I will find a place where you shall be safe."

             
She shifted restlessly against him, causing her captive kitten to squirm.  "I would prefer to aid you."

     Smoothing down her silky black hair, this time he did place a kiss on the top of her head.  "I know you do.  And if these thieves were anything but Maccus, I would welcome your help.  But I have given you my vow that I shall protect you…" He let the words trail off, knowing Deirdre would understand how utterly important keeping his promise had become.

              What she did not know, could not know, was that his vow was not solely due to the necessity of honor.  Nay, he reflected with mocking amazement, had he not given his word to keep her safe, he would do so, even at great cost to himself and his quest.

             
The Shadow Dancer had come to mean something to him.

Had this feeling always existed, buried deep inside of him, since the moment he'd first beheld her lovely face?  Or had this feeling been steadily growing, quickening with each soft touch of her hand, until it now held a firm foothold in his heart?

              He could not say.  Indeed, the why and how of it did not matter, not really.  Not now.

             
Yet he could not help but wonder - would his feelings  matter when the time came to leave her?

             
As though she sensed his riotous thoughts, Deirdre began murmuring to her tiny pet in a soothing voice.  Egann listened as she sang a low-voiced lullaby, finding himself aroused and amused at the same time.

             
"What of my kitten?" Finishing her quiet song, Deirdre whispered hoarsely.  "What will become of her while I sleep?"

             
"You worry about the kitten?  Still stunned by the impact of her husky voice on him, he shook his head.

             
"Yes."  She answered in a firm tone.

             
Egann stared for a moment, his chest unaccountable tight.  Softness, stubbornness, both resided in this mortal woman in equal measure.  She cared not that she might look foolish, nay.  Rather she worried about her small pet, and he knew that she wanted him to promise to take care of it. 

             
What could he do but agree?  He opened his mouth to allay her fears, when Weylyn again snorted a loud warning. 

This time, it was a cross between the roar of a lion and the cry of a warhorse, charging into battle.  Without any urging from Egann, he broke into an all-out gallop.

              The back of Egann's neck began to tingle a warning.                All round them, the night seemed still and silent, except for the pounding of Weylyn's hooves.  Shrouded in darkness, the ghostly shapes of dwarfed trees whipped past as they ran.   Away from the sea, from the cliffs and the rocks, inland.  Where danger awaited.

             
Egann saw no safe place where he might leave Deirdre.  Furious with himself, he cursed out loud.

             
"What is it?"  Deirdre gasped.

             
"I know not."  Grim-voiced, he gave his answer, knowing that they would find out soon enough.

             
Rounding a curve in the road, ahead lay the glow of several small fires.  Cries and shouts echoed out over the darkened plains, and the shadows of many cloaked and hooded men could be dimly seen.  Several of them surrounded a woman, seemingly trying to drag her to a fiery death in the largest of the fires. 

             
Maccus.

             
With a savage curse, Egann reined Weylyn to a sliding stop.  He had no time.  No time nor place where he might safely leave Deirdre. 

             
"Let's go," she urged, understanding the reason for his hesitation.  "Or the Maccus will kill her."

             
"I will not take you among Maccus in a sacrificial frenzy."

             
"We have no choice."

             
Another quick look around them showed Egann the truth of her words.  The undulating landscape of fields contained no safe haven for Deirdre.  If he kept her with him, he would have a better chance of protecting her.

             
The captive woman screamed.

             
Egann touched his heels lightly to Weylyn's side.

             
Pawing the ground, the enormous beast snorted.  Then, tossing his massive head, reared up and leapt forward.

             
Into the midst of Maccus they charged.

The men scattered.

On the crackle and hiss of the flames broke the shocked silence that greeted them.  Those that held the woman captive did not release her, though she had ceased her struggles to stare in awe and wonder at them.

             
"Release her," Egann ordered.  Although he carried no sword, his authoritative tone left no doubt he would be obeyed.

             
Yet none moved.

             
Finally, their captive, an elderly woman with a mane of silver hair, spoke.  

             
"Help me," she said, her voice quavering yet strong.  She did not shout, nor beg, and an odd sort of resigned dignity seemed to cling to her.

             
Behind her, the golden flames leaped and sparked, an offering to the red and angry god of the Maccus. 

             
Shaking off her captor's hands, the gray-haired woman took a step forward.

             
Something about her reminded him of Deirdre
. 

             
"She is a Shadow Dancer."  One of the Maccus spoke, his defiant voice echoing in the night.  "Of darkness and evil.  It is our right to purge the earth of ones such as she."

             
Deirdre stiffened, clutching a handful of Weylyn's mane.  With a light touch to her shoulder, Egann forestalled her.  He did not want her to draw the Maccus's attention to herself. 

             
Instead, raised his voice in challenge.

             
"Who gives you such a right?  That you would stoop so low as to murder an elderly woman who cannot fight you nor defend herself?"

             
Instead of shaming them, Egann's words seemed to make them stand taller. 

             
"Our god gives us the right, this reason.  `Tis our divine purpose, our reason for being.  Have you not heard of the Shadow Dancer, and the curse they carry upon mankind?"

             
Since Egann could not lie, he did not answer directly.  Instead, he cocked his head and made a sound of dissent.  "I would hear this tale," he said.

             
The utter stillness of Deirdre in front of him told Egann that she too wanted to hear the story.

             
The elderly Shadow Dancer however, had other ideas.  While the two Maccus who still held her focused their attention on Egann, she used the opportunity to break loose from their hold.

             
Whirling with the speed of one who had much less years upon her, the aged one spun free and moved to stand near Weylyn's shoulder.

             
To Egann's amazement, the Maccus fell back rather than going after her.

             
Weylyn nickered a welcome. 

             
When one of the Maccus shook off his daze and made a move towards them, Egann held up his hand.

             
"Come no closer.  She is under my protection now."

             
"And who are you?"  The tallest of the Maccus, hidden in the dark folds of the ever-present black cloak, moved forward boldly.  "Think you that you can overcome six of us?"

             
"I am," piercing each man with a look that left no doubt as to his belief that indeed he could easily prevail, Egann spoke quietly, knowing his next words would be answer enough.

"Egann of Rune."

              To his immense satisfaction the Maccus fell back.  Except one, the tall, bold one who had first issued the challenge.

             
"This is a matter between Maccus and mortal. We but sacrifice to our god.  You of Rune have no reason nor right to interfere."

             
The back of Egann's neck began to tingle yet again.  This Maccus, whoever he might be, knew just enough of the lore of Rune to be dangerous.  But how?