Shadow Magic (7 page)

             
"Those that hunt you - from where do they come?"  The tautness of the question told her he thought attack might be imminent.

             
This she could answer, though her response would no doubt frustrate him.  "From everywhere and nowhere.   The Maccus move from village to village in their never-ending search for those that dance in the shadows."

             
"Why?"

             
"I do not know why."  Her voice sounded small as she considered his question.  "All my life have I known of them, and feared them, and lived in dread of the day they would find me.  Tis their entire reason for existence, this hunting and killing of Shadow Dancers.  The legend speaks of some sort of revenge, though for what imagined sin I know not."

             
"How many have they killed?"

             
"I know not," she told him, feeling both at ease and uncomfortable in the deepening gloom.  "I know only this - they are never satisfied by the taking of only one."

             
Egann cocked his head, as though he pondered this.  But then she wondered, as the owl cried again, whether he merely listened for the taunting of the bird. 

             
"How much farther do we go?" he muttered, his step never faltering. "When will this creature reveal itself, and tell what payment is required?"

             
Payment?  Did he think the owl held his amulet hostage?

             
They came to a place where the undergrowth did not seem as dense.  Finally, Egann stopped in a clearing, turning to search the perimeter in a few abrupt motions.

             
"Wait here," he told her, handing her the reins to his horse.

             
Automatically Deirdre took them, trying to calm her unease by backing until she stood shoulder blade to the horse's withers, and could feel every breath taken by the massive animal.

             
The owl gave another cry, a long, mournful ooow-ooow.

             
Egann touched her hand lightly, as if to make certain she understood that she was to wait. 

             
Deirdre nodded, her heart in her throat, as he turned away.

             
Pushing back the underbrush, he disappeared silently in the direction of the bird's cry.  She noticed that he, a Faerie Prince by his own account, did not even carry a sword for protection.  Perhaps he used magic instead. 

             
He vanished into the woods and she waited, alone and unprotected, with the feeling of dread intensifying.

             
The night air felt heavy, charged.  Something was amiss, and she liked it not.

             
"Greetings." 

             
With a gasp she spun to the left, then to the right, seeing nothing and no one.

             
"What sort of enchantment is this?" she murmured.  The horse turned his head to look at her and snorted.

             
"Up here."  Laced with amusement, the voice sounded full of mischief.

             
Perched on the lowest branch of the tree was a large owl, its yellow eyes winking merrily.

             
"He's gone looking for you."  Helplessly, Deirdre glanced off in the direction Egann had gone.  "What sort of jest do you play?"

             
"I?"  Sounding insulted, the bird preened, ruffling its muddy-colored feathers.  "I play at nothing.  Rather I like to think of it as helping things along."

             
She supposed if she could believe in a talking owl, then she could believe those words as well.  Still, she kept her back against the solid horse, feeling more safe that way. 

             
"Helping what things along?"

             
"Egann, of course."  The bird chuckled.  "I am Fiallan of Rune."

             
The air shimmered, a thousand tiny stars twinkling.  When the glittering brightness faded, instead of an owl, a silver-haired man stood in front of the tree, clad in a robe of some rich material that seemed to cast its own light into the gloom.

             
"You are the one who gave him the amulet."  As soon as she'd spoken, Deirdre regretted it.  What if Fiallan asked about it?   Surely Egann did not wish this man to know of the amulet's disappearance.

             
"Ah yes.  The amulet."  Stroking a long beard as white as new snow, the ancient one smiled.  "You have seen it then?  Felt the power pulse in your hand as you held it?"

             
She could not lie.  "Nay, I have never seen the thing.  Only have I heard Egann speak of it."

             
"With great reverence?"  Fiallan's tone sounded sharp.

             
"Yes."  She hurried to add.  "He values the thing highly."

             
"So highly then, that he suffered when he lost it?"

             
He knew
.  Letting her shoulders sag, Deirdre glanced once more in the direction Egann had gone.  It was time he returned, and found his own answers for Fiallan's questions.

             
"It seems that he does." She chose her words carefully.  "He came to the cliffs by the sea believing that I had stolen it."

             
"And did you?"

             
"Of course not.  Of what use would such a trinket be to a Shadow Dancer?"

             
Cocking his head, the ancient man considered her.  "Shadow Dancer, eh?  Yet one such as you, who feels the ancestral tug of magic in your blood, would recognize the power of the Amulet of Gwymyrr were you to hold it in your palm.  And once having done so, perhaps you might covet it?"

             
Straightening herself, so that she stood tall and true, Deirdre met his gaze steadily.  "I have no doubt that I would recognize this thing, wise man of Rune, if it resonates with magic as you say. But I have never coveted anything my entire life long."

             
His smile, though compassionate, seemed edged with mockery.  "What of your longing to see the sun?"

             
She clenched her hands.  "See you so deeply into my very soul, that you know every secret that resides there?  I have told no one of my longing, not even your Egann, who seeks you - or the owl - as we speak."

             
"I know much.  I can tell you of your people's history, if you wish."

             
"The history of my people is known to me."

             
"Know you then, how the curse came to be?"

             
Deirdre went still.  "No one knows that.  You speak of something so far back in the mists of time that it has been forgotten."

             
"By some.  Not by all."

             
Though she wanted to believe him, she could not.  The history of the Shadow Dancers had been told to her by her mother, passed down from generation to generation, sacred and unchanged.  How could this Fiallan, even if he truly were the Wise man of Rune, know things her own people did not?

             
"I do not wish to speak of it," she said firmly.  "Now tell me, do you seek to hinder or help Egann in his search for this charm of yours?"

             
Fiallan's yellow eyes twinkled.  "You are wiser than you appear."

             
She supposed she should take offense, but she could not.  "Is that so?"

             
He chuckled.  "I find you a worthy adversary for Prince Egann."

             
"Adversary?"  Shaking her head, she began to pray silently that Egann would come back.  "You are wrong.  We are allies.  I travel with him to help him search for the amulet."

             
"To what end?"

             
She didn't have a ready answer, so she said nothing.

             
He coughed, hiding what looked to be a smile behind his hand.  "Tell me - for what purpose does Egann seek the Amulet of Gwymyrr?"

             
That
was one thing he hadn't told her.  "I think he means to return it to the rightful owner, the one you name as King in your Faerie land of Rune."

             
The horse snorted.

             
"Steady, Weylyn," Fiallan said, reaching out with one long-fingered hand to rub the huge beast's nose.  "He will soon return, have no fear."

             
"Weylyn."  The idea that the horse could be so named intrigued her.  In the time she had known him, never had she heard Egann refer to the horse as such.

             
"It means Son of the Wolf in our tongue."

             
Shocked, Deirdre could only stare.  She looked at the huge horse, so solid, so steady, and at the wizened little man so full of life he seemed to vibrate with it.

             
How much of what he said was truth, how much lie?

             
Seeing the indecision flicker across her face, Fiallan laughed, a cackle of sound that startled a rabbit from its nest in the underbrush.  Though the beast seemed to explode from the forest right in front of the horse, Weylyn only shifted his feel and nickered.

             
"I cannot lie."  His voice, though softly spoken, rang with authority.  "Like you."

             
"Another secret of mine that you seem to know."

             
"None of us is what we seem," he warned.  "Especially you."

             
Impatience made her shift her feet, causing the horse behind her to move sideways.

             
"Tell me how we may find the amulet," she asked, knowing the answer would be of the most importance to Egann. 

             
"You will find the amulet when it wishes to be found."

             
"But that--"             

             
"Go to Rune."  With a mocking laugh, he changed back into the owl, flapping his mighty wings and disappearing into the night.

             
A heartbeat later Egann returned to the clearing.  He frowned when he saw that Deirdre stood staring at nothing.

             
"What is wrong?"

             
Slowly she shook her head. "Your Fiallan was here."

             
He froze, lifting his shaggy head as if scenting the wind.  "Fiallan?  When?"

             
"Soon after you left.  He had become the owl that so taunted us."  Crossing her arms, she waited for the disbelief that such a statement was sure to bring.

             
"I do not understand."  Instead of disbelieving, he sounded bewildered.  "Why would Fiallan appear to you instead of me?"

             
She swallowed, knowing he wouldn't like what she next had to say.  "He knows the amulet is missing."

             
Egann glared at her.  "Why did you tell him?"

             
"I did not.  He already knew.  Did you not say to me that he is called the Wise One of Rune?"

             
Bowing his head, Egann groaned.  "He is a very powerful mage."

             
Since Fiallan had been somehow able to see inside of her, to the secrets she had always kept so deeply hidden, Deirdre was inclined to agree.

             
"What else did he speak of?"

             
"The history of my people, the name of your horse--"

             
"Does he know where the amulet has been taken?"

             
"If he does, he did not tell me.  Indeed, when I asked him that very question, he said the amulet will be found when it wants to be found."

             
"That makes no sense," Egann exploded, pacing in the small clearing.  "Forever does Fiallan speak in cryptic riddles."

             
"He also said we must go to Rune."

             
"Impossible.  I cannot return until I have recovered the amulet of Gwymyrr.  And until they have chosen another king."

             
Wisely, Deirdre kept her silence.

             
"Why would I go to Rune?"  Halting in front of her, he crossed his muscular arms and glared at her.  "What purpose would it serve?"