Shadow Magic (22 page)

             
"Show yourself," he ordered.  "Cease this hiding and remove your hood."

             
Evincing no fear, the Maccus stepped forward, until he stopped a mere ten paces from them.  Behind him, the bonfire's angry orange glow made his hooded form appear an ominous silhouette.

             
Though Deirdre did not overtly move, Egann could feel her shrinking away from the evil this man emanated.  To his surprise, the older woman laid a knarled hand on Deirdre's leg, as if to comfort.   

             
The man on the ground reached up and slowly lowered his hood.

             
"So we meet again," he said, grinning slyly. 

             
`Twas the Maccus Egann had met before in the forest.  The one who called himself Monk, who might even be the one who led the Maccus.  Yet he did not carry the Amulet of Gwymyrr, for Egann would have sensed its presence.

             
Weylyn tossed his massive head and pawed the ground. 

             
Monk's grin widened.  "Your mount wishes to hunt."

             
Egann studied the other man.  This one, even though    he had been banished from Rune, still knew how to use his eyes to see beyond deceitful appearances.  Evidently he was able to discern, where mere humans did not, Weylyn's true form. 

             
"Have a care," Egann warned.  "Lest he decide to hunt you."

             
For some reason Monk seemed to find this amusing.  His mad chortles of glee had even his own followers muttering among themselves.

             
Then, abruptly, Monk went quiet.  Looking up at Egann, he gave a fierce shake of his head.  "Now is not the time, Prince of Rune.  We are not ready, not yet.  But we will be, and soon."

             
Before Egann could dispute his cryptic words, the air began to shimmer.  The bonfires roared, the flames leaping higher, sparks shooting into the night sky. 

With a flash like lightening, Monk and his men vanished.

Magic
.  Again.

             
Stunned, Egann stared at the empty place where the Maccus had stood only moments before.

             
With a fierce shake of his head, Weylyn uttered a futile challenge, a trumpet of sound that blared into the night.  Deirdre's kitten, startled by the noise, poked her head up from the folds of Deirdre's skirt and yowled.

             
"I would go with you," The gray-haired Shadow Dancer spoke, reminding him of her presence at Weylyn's side. 

             
Egann bit back his refusal when Deirdre glanced over her shoulder at him, a blatant look of entreaty in her exotic violet eyes. 

"Of course you will," he said instead.  "But we will need another mount.  Though Weylyn's back is strong, even he would balk at carrying three." 

              The horse nickered, rolling his eyes so that the whites of them showed.  Egann couldn't help but laugh.

             
Again, Deirdre's Cinnie mewed. 

             
"You would make a fine steed, little one." 

             
Deirdre made a sound of protest.

             
"Think on it, little dancer.  What better way to protect this small cat than to make her into a fine steed like Weylyn?"

             
Weylyn snorted his agreement.

             
"See?"  Egann grinned at Deirdre, knowing he was right.  "He will protect her." 

             
With a wordless nod, Deirdre handed him the kitten.  Unafraid, the small beast tilted her head and looked up at him with what he could have sworn was eager anticipation.

             
"Place her on the ground," he told Ula, who took Cinnie from him and did as he asked.

             
Weylyn nickered again. 

             
The spell was a simple one, ancient and familiar.  Quickly Egann spoke the words to it, using a simple gesture and a minimum of power.

             
One moment, a kitten sat beneath Weylyn's hooves, licking her small paw and purring.

             
The next, a spotted palfrey, coat gleaming with health, touched noses with Weylyn. 

             
Deirdre laughed out loud with delight. 

             
Ula took a step back.  "Much thanks to you," she murmured. With a spryness at odds with her advanced age, she went to the smaller horse, grasped the long mane, and pulled herself up on Cinnie's back. 

             
Once she was settled, they started forward.

             
"How are you named?"  Deirdre asked, sounding lightly cautious. 

             
"I am called Ula."  The older woman said.  "I am one of those that dance in the shadows."

             
Egann watched Deirdre's averted profile for a reaction, finding none.  Instead, she merely dipped her head politely.  "My name is Deirdre.  For what tribe did you dance?"

Ula sighed.  "Long have I danced in the Shadows, and for many tribes.  Thanks to the Maccus and their red and angry god, I have no home."

Egann thought of the fires in the cliff caves and his and Deirdre's furious ride to escape.  In front of him, Deirdre shuddered, and he knew that she remembered as well.

             
"The Maccus burned my home as well."  Deirdre's quiet voice held sadness.  "Though Prince Egann has promised to find me another home, after we find that which he seeks."  Staring straight ahead, she did not look at him as she spoke. 

             
That she used his title with such a formal tone gave him momentary pause, as did the fact that she did not name the amulet to the other woman. 

             
"I have heard of one who seeks a talisman."  Ula said slowly.  "All of the Northern tribes speak of it."

             
Inside himself, Egann felt a momentary sharpening, a drawing together of his intellect and spirit and body.  "Do they say," he asked, keeping his tone level, "where one might find this thing?"

             
"Nay."The older woman replied.  "Though it’s rumored that the Maccus have a magical amulet."

             
Deirdre half turned, glancing at Ula who rode beside them.  "How were you captured?"

             
Though Egann heard nothing but polite curiosity in her voice, he sensed an undercurrent of suspicion just the same.

             
"They came upon my people by stealth, and set fire to our village.  I tried to run." Ula made a rueful tsking sound, "but these old legs of mine are not so swift any more.  They caught me easily and I did not have the strength to fight them."

             
The same thing would have happened to Deirdre, if he had not been there to protect her. 

             
This knowledge infuriated Egann, as well as causing him unexpected pain.  The thought of a being so loving, so exquisite as Deirdre having her existence snuffed out by one as callous and cruel as the madman called Monk made him wish for only the second time in his life that he could touch iron and arm himself with a sword. 

             
"The Maccus must be stopped."  This declaration he uttered with contempt.  "No matter the cost, I will stop them, so that no more Shadow Dancers will die."

             
Deirdre lifted her face to his, violet eyes glowing.  "You would do this," she whispered, "for me and my kind?"

             
"Have a care what you promise," the old woman admonished.  "Though I am certain you already know this, to make such an oath becomes binding."

             
This he knew well, for he had always honored his word.  Except once, the most important time of all, when he had promised to protect Banan and failed.

             
He would not do so again.

             
Though now his vows had become numerous, he would keep each and every one.  He would find and return the Amulet of Gwymyrr to his people, keep Deirdre safe, and find a way to remove the curse that haunted her and her kind.

Dipping his head, he touched his lips to Deirdre's, sealing his latest promise.  Odd how he, who once had wanted no responsibilities at all, had just willingly taken on another.

CHAPTER TWELVE

              As they rode swiftly in the darkness, Deirdre shot covert looks at the older woman.  Never having met one of her own kind, Deirdre did not know what to make her.  Something about her mannerisms seemed familiar to her, in the way that dreams sometimes brought false memories of strange places. 

             
Occasionally the breeze carried the sharp scent of the sea, and she fancied she could hear a gull screech in the distance.  They rode north, she knew, and the dirt path did not stray too far from the cliffs. 

             
Clouds still blanketed the night sky, and when occasionally the moon revealed herself, she seemed to be nearly half full.

             
Soon, too soon, `twould be time for the dance.

             
Again she looked at Ula, wondering what it would be like to watch the Shadow Dance of another.  To her knowledge such a thing had never been done. 

Shadow Dancers were, according to legend, few in number.  Now, thanks to Fiallan, she knew why; they were the beleaguered survivors of one small group of wrongly cursed people, scattered like chaff on the wind among the various tribes.   And hunted always by the relentless Maccus.

              "Where did you dance, child?"  Ula asked, making Deirdre wonder if perhaps the older woman had read her mind.

             
"I lived South of here, by the sea and among cliff people." Though she tried, Deirdre could not keep her sorrow from resonating in her voice.  "I danced the harvest until The Maccus came with their evil and their sacrificial fires.  Egann – the Prince – helped me to escape.  I do not know how many of my people did not."

             
"The Maccus only wanted you," Egann pointed out from behind her, tightening his arms around her, his deep voice a soothing rumble.  "When they did not find you –"

             
"Think you that they massacred my people?" 
There
.  Deirdre closed her eyes, reliving the anguish.  She'd finally spoken her greatest fear out loud, the guilty worry that had haunted her ever since she'd fled her home. 

             
"I know not."  Egann said. "What think you, Ula?"

`Twas a reasonable question, and Deirdre waited to see if the older dancer would have something to say.

              Yet the older woman remained silent, the slight breeze ruffling her moon-colored hair. 

             
The clop of the horses' hooves was the only sound for awhile, as Deirdre stared blindly at the tall grasses that lined both sides of the dirt path.  Finally, she could bear the silence no longer. 

"Tell me old one, if you know.  What happened to your people when the Maccus came?"

              "If the Maccus harmed your people," Ula told her with a lift of her brows, circumventing the question. "there would be no way to know.  Though the Maccus hunt only us, sometimes they hurt others that get in their way.  There is nothing you can do to change that.  Our kind never asked to become so hated and hunted."

             
"There is much I did not ask for."  Deirdre shook her head, trying to clear from her mind the unwanted images of fire and screams and her people dying.  "But still I would have an answer.  Tell me what became of your tribe?"

             
"I do not know."  Reluctance colored Ula's tone.  "When the Maccus captured me I was beaten and rendered senseless.  When I next regained my mind, I was far from home and my people."

             
"I am sorry."  Deirdre bowed her head.  This senseless hatred had to stop.  The Maccus, instead of atoning for their crimes of long ago, tried to eradicate the very ones they'd abused.  Never would they stop, for they had created their red and angry god - a god who demanded the fiery sacrifices of her people.  Nay, never would they change.

             
Unless one such as Egann were able turn them from their evil ways.

             
To end an age-old enmity, to right the wrongs done by a forbidden curse, to bring unity and joy to two separate races – this would be a task for a great warrior King indeed.

             
Stunned, she stared unseeingly ahead, compelled by a vision of such magnitude and beauty that she wanted to weep.