Shadow Magic (34 page)

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 realized 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. 

"Our child," she murmured against him.  "Conceived by our love."

With her, moving, spinning, dancing, he rejoiced.

Now the amulet's song called another name, that of the woman whose life he shared. 

Deirdre
. 
Deirdre.

The musical sound of her name enthralled him.  The touch of her skin, silky and smooth, bewitched him.  Around each other they flowed and merged, until he no longer knew if the pulse that sounded in his ears was hers or his own. 

It seemed to go on forever, yet taking up but an instant in the fabric of time. 

Then, all at once, the dance ended. 

Deirdre's fatigue seemed a palpable thing as she sagged in his arms, sinking to her knees with a quiet moan.

Blinking, Egann realized with growing horror that the moon had disappeared and dawn rapidly approached.

Nay, more than approached, morning was
here
.  A fiery ball of orange, the sun burst over the Eastern horizon.

Deirdre lay, semi-conscious, half in his arms, fully exposed to the onslaught of the deadly rays.  He had always thought he would be the one to leave her, once his quest had been completed.  Instead, it was
she
who would leave first, for when the sunlight touched her skin she would die.

His chest constricted.  Nay, not if he could help it.

A laugh rang out, guttural and full of malice.  Stepping forward, Hearne lifted his hands to the sunrise in gleeful supplication.

The few Shadow Dancers who had been brave enough to venture beyond the protection of the stone, retreated in horror.

"Halt."  With one word Hearne stopped them.  Waving his hand quickly, he began to speak harsh words of a magic so wrong and so old that the sound of his voice sent a horrible chill down Egann's spine.

As if to counteract such darkness, the Amulet of Gwymyrr began to sing.  No lament this time, nor welcoming song of joy.  But a battle cry, pure and fierce and strong. 

Then Egann knew what he must do.

Through the intricate motions of the dance, he had felt another power began to build in him, familiar magic yet different, channeled through his Shadow Dancer and her dance, strengthened by the amulet.  In Deirdre too, some of the magic resided still.  This would aid her, give her strength to face the ordeal about to begin, so with a gentle tug on her hand he awakened her. 

Shakily she climbed to her feet, her serene expression showing no fear, only joy, even as the first golden rays of the dawning day touched the creamy skin of her upturned face.

Hearne's voice increased in volume, the black and suffocating energy his spell created rushing at them like a wave of swirling darkness.

Egann lifted his hand and Deirdre's.  He concentrated on the power inside of him, focusing it on the talisman that burned against his chest.