Shadow Magic (9 page)

             
"As I have said, she is safe."  The wise man cocked his grizzled head, peering up at Egann with an owlish gaze full of mischief.

             
"I would see her."  Crossing his arms in front of him, Egann waited, the pounding of his heart the only sign of his agitation.

             
"So you shall, once the sun has set."

             
"Nay.  Show her to me now."  If he used the tone of a King's command, so be it. Deirdre was his responsibility and as such, he meant to make certain she was safe.

             
A silken red fox, braver than most, crept out from under the brush to watch them.  Above, a crow cried raucously, once, twice, then a third time before flapping off into the forest. 

             
Time crept by while they waged a silent war.

             
"I cannot," Fiallan finally admitted.  "Think on it, my friend.  If you open her hiding place to look at her, you will also let the deadly sun harm her.  You must wait until the sun has traveled the sky and crossed the horizon."

             
Only years of ingrained manners kept Egann from swearing out loud.  The wise one was correct, in this at least.  Egann could not do such a thing.  If making certain she was safe would endanger her life, then he would simply have to wait.

             
Patience had never been one of his virtues.

             
Fiallan began walking again, this time into the very heart of the forest, where the trees grew so massive and intertwined that the dappling gold drops of sunlight came few and far between. 

             
"I will have need of Weylyn," Egann mused out loud. Lifting one hand casually, he began muttering the few words of the spell necessary to bring the beast to him, changed into a fierce steed.

             
"Nay."  Grabbing Egann's hand, Fiallan stopped him mid-spell.  "I have given him leave to hunt the plains of Morthar.  I do not think he enjoyed the time spent acting as your horse."

             
Egann shrugged.  "I could not ride around the mortal world on a wolf, even one as large as Weylyn.  But I will let him have his time to hunt, and will summon him back once I find the woman."

             
"Ah, the woman.”  Fiallan’s smile seemed smug and knowing.  “She is beautiful, is she not?  Too bad that the curse that haunts her is ancient and so powerful."

             
Though thinking of her loveliness was the last thing he wanted to do, Egann could not help but remember the supple feel of her limbs as he held her in his arms, or the sweet scent of her hair and smooth silk of her skin.  His body instantly responded, which infuriated him.

             
“Curse?” 

             
“Yes, this curse will not be an easy one to break,” Fiallan said.  “All who dance in the shadows labor under it.”

             
Focusing on the wise man, Egann slowly shook his head.  "Who made this curse, mortal or Faerie?  I would not think there could be any human wizard or witch so powerful to curse an entire race of people for so long."

             
"It originated in Rune."  Fiallan's voice sounded heavy.  "Long before the Hall of Legends was even built, or sealed.  I have found little on it, but know that your Deirdre and her kind were cursed by our own ancestors."

             
"Faeries?"

             
"Yes." 

             
At that they both fell silent.  A curse was something not done lightly, even by those few faeries inclined to follow the path of darkness. 

             
Despite his resolve not to get any more deeply involved than he had to, Egann's curiosity overrode his inclination to caution.  "Have you at least been able to find out why?"

             
"Nay.  The secret will most likely be found within the place where such knowledge is kept."

             
"Is the door to the Hall of Legends unlocked and open once again?"

             
"Not yet."  Fiallan sighed dramatically, reminding Egann that Fiallan had dreamt of entering the revered repository of records for most of his long life.

 
              "I am certain the answer will lie within.  Now all I need is the door to open and allow me to search for it."

             
Egann couldn't help but smile at the anticipation in the wise one's voice.  He had no doubt that any day now, the heavy oak door would swing wide open, allowing all seekers access to the ancient records.  This had been known to happen every so often, though not in Egann's lifetime.

             
"Think you it will be soon?"  Fiallan asked, as though he had plucked the thought from inside of Egann's head.

             
About to answer, the absolute cessation of sound from the wildlife alerted Egann a second before he heard the telltale rustle of leaves.  In the blink of an eye Fiallan vanished.

             
"You there, warrior."  A man stepped into the clearing, hands up to show he did not bear arms.  At first glance he appeared to be a monk or priest of some sort.  Clad all in black, his gaunt face and ascetic features belied the sharpness of his gaze.  A rough rope of some homespun cloth belted the robe that hung on his lanky frame.  All in all, he looked harmless, a human monk or priest.

             
But Egann knew better than to trust appearances.  He gave a mocking smile and inclined his head, wondering how long it would be before the stranger realized that he too wore no sword and was not in fact, a warrior of any kind.

             
Unarmed - it would seem that they were evenly matched, proving again that appearances could deceive. 

             
"I seek a woman in these woods," the stranger said, his tone cordial.

             
Immediately, Egann's senses sharpened.  Still, he maintained his expressionless stance and skirted as close to the edge of the truth as he dared.  "You would have better luck in a pub or tavern.  There are naught but wild creatures here."

             
"Nay."  Stepping closer, the man's intent gaze tried to peer inside Egann.  "I have heard that a lost female roamed the forest this very morn, crying out in some distress or agony.  It may be that I know her - and I only seek to see if I may help her. "

             
It may be that I know her
.

             
The back of his neck tingled. Absently, rubbing it with one hand, he kept his gaze on the stranger.  He lied, that much Egann knew, but to what end?

             
"Who are you?"  His tone sounded cold and blunt, but Egann did not care.

He had accepted the charge of protecting Deirdre and would do so no matter the cost.

              Blinking, the other spread his hands, palm up, holding them out before him like he sought benediction of some sort.  "I carry no weapon and have no wish to fight you.”

             
“Your name.”

             
“My name I give to no man.  Most call me Monk."

             
"But you are not."

             
"Nay, I am not." 

             
Monk sounded so agreeable that Egann nearly relaxed. 
Nearly
. 

             
"I have seen no woman here on this day."  Not a lie.  Since the sun had risen over the forest, he had seen no sign of the missing Deirdre. 

             
"How came you to these woods?"  Monk asked, still in that pleasant tone, which now began to irritate Egann like the screech of metal on metal. 

             
"I might ask you the same question."

             
With a look of infinite patience, the human tilted his head and studied Egann.    Slowly, he shook his close-shorn head.

             
"I am a seeker of lost souls," he declared.  "And I travel where my spirit leads me.  So have I come to these woods, directed to find this woman and bring her forth into the light.”

             
“Directed?  By whom?”

             
Smiling, Monk moved closer.  “By a purpose greater than the sum of this mortal life.”

             
Maccus
.  This man could be no other.  But how had he known that Deirdre was here?  Did he have some sort of magic of his own, used to aid him in his dark task of hunting hapless Shadow Dancers?

             
Quietly Egann reached out with his mind, searching for the vague tendrils created by magic, pretending to merely watch the other while he sought information.  Finding nothing, indeed less than nothing, for a blank wall of blackness blocked him, he pondered his next move.  He could not actually
harm
this Monk, but perhaps he could confuse and enchant him, sending him far from where Deirdre slept even now, hopefully protected in darkness.  His people often delighted in playing such tricks on humans, though he himself had never done so.

             
Under his breath he began to mutter the words to a simple spell.

             
Monk straightened, his gaze alertly sharp.  "What is this?"  He cried, no fear, only curiosity ringing in his sharp tone.  "I sense the shifting of the veil, so lightly does it part in this very place where we stand."

             
Stunned, Egann broke off his spell.  How did this mortal know of such things?  Mayhap this was no mortal who stood before him, but rather his own kind.

             
"Are you human or fae?"  Egann demanded.  If this Monk were actually some sort of renegade Faerie, there would be nothing to bar the use of magic to vanquish him.  Only against mortals was the use of magic forbidden, unless used in self-defense.

             
"What a curious question." The other man laughed.  "And one I might just as easily ask of you."

             
Twice now had Monk tried to turn the question back to Egann, and once more would Egann refuse to answer.  He did not know whether the Maccus hated
all
who had magic, or merely those that danced in shadow.

             
"Curious, mayhap.”  Egann fixed the other with an intent glare of his own.  “Yet you did not answer.  So I ask again, are you mortal or fae?"

             
Monk shook his head.  As he opened his mouth to speak, the sound of pounding hoof beats echoed through the forest.

             
Instantly alert, Egann looked away.  From the corner of his eye, he watched as Monk did the same.

             
A rider burst into the clearing, the dark coat of his horse lathered with sweat. Seeing them, he reined to a sliding halt.

             
"You must help me," he gasped.  A young human, his eyes were shadowed and exhaustion and pain had carved fresh lines in his young face. 

             
Stepping forward, Monk laid a hand on the horse's wet neck.  "What has happened?"

             
"My family - my village - we were attacked.  Riders of the Mist entered in darkness, and by the strength of some dark magic, killed many while we slept.  Woman, children, pets - it mattered not to these demons.  I know not how many still live - I rode away with the roar of the fires and the screams of the people echoing in my ears."

             
"Shadow Dancers," spat Monk.  "It had to be they, since the attack came with the darkness." 

             
But to Egann it sounded much more like the attack of the Maccus on the people of the cliffs.  In a moment the young human confirmed it.

             
"Nay, for they came to slay our own Shadow Dancer.   We know not why, but this seemed to be the reason for the invasion."

             
Eyes burning, Monk went utterly still.   "And did she live?"  His voice sounded malicious somehow, full of evil intent.

             
The sound of it sent a jolt of warning through Egann.  This one spoke with the voice of a madman or a fanatic.  Both, combined with bloodlust and rage, were extremely dangerous in fae and mortal alike.  He had no doubt that, if the answer were in the affirmative, Monk would travel to this village and attempt to slay the Shadow Dancer himself.

             
"Did she live?"  Monk hissed again, when the rider did not answer.

             
The horse sidestepped nervously and it took a moment for the young man to regain control.  Looking at the face of the rider, Egann saw that he too regarded Monk with a combination of horror and revulsion.