Shadow Magic (9 page)

Read Shadow Magic Online

Authors: Cheyenne McCray

BOOK: Shadow Magic
5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Had he made the right decision? Was it enough for his people to enjoy what sunlight they could before being sent belowground again?
No time for those thoughts. Garran shook his head. He had work to accomplish before he delivered his decision to his daughter and her companions.
He closed his eyes and visualized the meadow over the Drow realm and his body shimmered and vanished from the transference stone.
After traveling through the dark void, he returned in moments a step away from the door above his home. He opened his eyes and paused to study the dark place he had not seen bathed in sunlight for centuries.
The gifts the Great Guardian had given him …
Yes. He had made the right decision. He would be able to not only help
his
people, but his daughter and
her
people as well. The thought warmed his chest and he smiled.
After he made his way down the stone stairs to the great hall, Garran ordered one of his guards to summon Vidar. The warrior was to return from the training cavern where he worked with their army, to meet with Garran in the throne/ strategy chamber.
Garran settled himself on his throne, rested one elbow on an armrest and stroked his chin.
Once he discussed his plans with his Directorate and those in his command, he would go to the D'Danann village.
When he traveled to the San Francisco Otherworld, he would meet with the D'Danann and D'Anu to discuss tactics. Without telling the witches or warriors of his ability, he had to find a way to get the Fomorii gathered in one place at the same time. He would transfer them all at once and not use the power thrice. Certainly, he would determine how to accomplish this and not leave his people without an experienced leader.
Vidar strode into the throne room and bowed. Garran
acknowledged his First in Command with a slight nod, then pushed himself off his throne and stepped down from the dais and faced Vidar.
The warrior had black hair and blacker eyes, and his skin was slightly bluer in hue than Garran's. Physically, Vidar's strength nearly matched Garran's. But not his magic. Vidar also did not have the powerful yet diplomatic presence a ruler of the Drow needed. At times Vidar was easy to anger and that anger could disrupt his magic.
“I will be leaving soon.” Garran studied Vidar's expression. “While I am gone you will serve as Steward in my place.”
Vidar's dark eyes narrowed as he met Garran's. “May I ask, my king, where you are going and how long you will be away?”
“It is an acceptable question.” Garran turned from Vidar, his hands behind his back as he eyed the obsidian door. “To the San Francisco Otherworld to aid in the battle against Ceithlenn and the Fomorii.”
“Your Highness.” Vidar's tone held a hard edge to it. “You cannot put yourself in harm's way.
I
will lead the army and do as you bid.” Vidar insisting he should lead the army in Garran's stead was an excellent quality in a First in Command. Garran expected no less.
Still, Garran faced Vidar again and stated, “I go alone. No questions. No answers will be given.”
Vidar raised his chin. “My king, we cannot afford the chance that you might lose your life. As your First, I insist—”
Garran held up his hand, halting Vidar's speech. Despite his approval of Vidar's desire to protect his king, Garran did not have time to waste on futile arguments. “As I said, you will serve as Steward.”
Vidar set his jaw but he bowed in acknowledgment before meeting Garran's gaze again. “I will gather the Directorate so that we might make arrangements.” Vidar's expression was harder than Garran believed it should have been when one was speaking to his king. “They will not approve.”
“Your place is to do as I command.” Garran tightened his
jaw. “As you well know, I need no approval. I am king and my word is law. But yes, summon the Directorate.”
“It will be done, my king.” The harsh look on Vidar's features did not lessen, but he bowed from the shoulders once again before rising, turning away, and striding out the door.
Garran narrowed his gaze as he watched Vidar retreat. When he had the opportunity to work with his First alone, Garran would discuss Vidar's impertinence.
That
was unacceptable.
For the sake of the guards standing inside the doorway, Garran did not let his frustration show. He kept his head high, his hands behind his back, as he waited for the Directorate to convene at the strategy table.
As he paced, his thoughts churned over what he must do before he left Otherworld. Vidar's training. Ensuring the preparation of his warriors for battle.
One by one, the wisest and eldest of the Dark Elves entered the chamber. As was true of all Elves, whether dark or light, each man looked to be the same age as Garran despite being centuries or many millennia older. As usual, the members of the Directorate wore simple black tunics, breeches, and boots.
When they were all assembled and seated, including Vidar, Garran remained standing. He moved his gaze from one Directorate member to the next, meeting each man's eyes.
“Shortly, after I have visited the D'Danann village, I will travel to the San Francisco Otherworld.” Garran kept his expression firm, hard. “Alone.”
The reactions to his announcement were immediate—stunned expressions to a one.
But before anyone could respond, Garran continued, “I cannot give you my reasons—not yet. I will join the D'Anu and D'Danann in their battle against Ceithlenn.”
Garran raised his voice over the angry words that began to spill from the Directorate members' lips. “Vidar shall serve as Steward in my absence, and Carden will be his First in Command. Carden will assemble an army prepared to
go to war against Ceithlenn and the Fomorii when I give the order.”
Sepan, the second in line to be Head of the Order of the Directorates, stood, his chair rumbling over the granite floor as he pushed it back. His gray eyes flashed and his silver hair glinted in the light refracting from the chamber's crystal walls and ceiling.
Sepan banged his fist on the table. “We cannot allow it. It is wrong, as wrong as when you endangered yourself fighting the demons when the door to Underworld was opened. Even then you had an army at your back. To go alone to this San Francisco Otherworld is preposterous!”
“You forget yourself.” Garran's temper rose, heating him as he met Sepan's unflinching gaze. “I am king. I have made a choice for the good of my people and I will not waver from that decision.”
“What choice is that?” Hark, the Head of the Order, maintained his placid expression where Sepan's was filled with fury.
“I cannot tell you at this time.” Garran looked from one member of the Directorate to another. “This is how it will be. Again, as I have said, Vidar shall serve as Steward while I am gone.” His gaze rested on Vidar. “And if my life should end, Vidar will no longer be Steward. He shall become king of the Dark Elves.”
Shock registered on every man's face, including Vidar's, who said, “I must refuse this—this—”
“Command.” Garran folded his arms across his chest. “I will again remind you, Vidar, that as your king my word is law. You will be a just and honorable king should I die.”
The silence in the room was so deafening that Garran's ears rang. He faced his Directorates. Most members of the Directorate managed to school their expressions.
Sepan was not one of those. He broke the silence, his gray eyes dark with undisguised fury. He bent where he stood and placed his palms on the table. “You have made this decision without our counsel.”
“I find your disrespectfulness intolerable.” Garran steeled his own gaze. “I am king. It is best you all remember this.” He looked at Vidar, who now had a shrewd gleam in his eyes that made Garran pause.
He didn't have time to second-guess himself, but he intended to have a stern and frank talk with Vidar before he left for the San Francisco Otherworld. “Have Carden prepare the army,” Garran continued. “I will give word when it is time for battle.”
“Yes, my king,” Vidar said, this time without as much heat in his voice.
After looking to the members of the Directorate and holding each member's gaze for a firm moment, Garran said, “I must rest as I have much to attend to before I leave.”
His mind already churning over what needed to be accomplished prior to his departure, Garran turned and strode out the door.
HANNAH WOKE TO THE feeling that someone was watching her. For a moment she lay still and kept her eyes shut and her breathing steady. The drum of the waterfall was all she heard, but a presence nearby caused her to shiver.
“You are awake,” came a man's smooth, rich voice. “It is time for us to go.” A laugh, then he added, “Unless you prefer I join you in bed?”
Garran.
She opened her eyes to see him standing over her, his usual teasing smile on his face.
“In your dreams, blue boy.” Hannah pushed herself to a sitting position on the bed. She'd lain down moments after Garran had left her. The bed was so comfortable it had drawn her into sleep as soon as she settled on the mattress and she felt as if she'd slept forever.
“Go where?” she asked, holding back a yawn.
He extended his hand. “To see my daughter and her people. Your people.”
Rumpled, irritated, and in need of a bath, Hannah ignored his hand. Even though she'd been tired, she hated that she'd fallen asleep in her clothing. Ugh. It didn't matter to her the warrior gear was Fae made and all she had to do was think the Fae word for “clean” and it would be as good as new again. She preferred to sleep in something soft and silky and bathe first thing in the morning.
She sighed. Soft and silky. Otherworld was sorely lacking a Victoria's Secret.
Goddess, what she would give to be in her own bed and take a shower in her own bathroom. Then perhaps putting on a Chloé blouse and her Jean-Paul Gaultier pinstriped jacket and slacks.
“Well?” Garran's lips were still quirked into a smile. “Must I carry you out of your chamber so that we might make our way to the village?”
She glared at him before she cast a glance to the corner where the waterfall tumbled from a rock shelf into a pool. Two fat pottery containers sat on a flat stone to the side, probably some kind of bathing gel. The slight tang of sulfur hung in the room and she assumed the water was from an underground hot spring.
Thank the Ancestors.
Hannah pushed the covers aside and was just about to climb out of bed when it occurred to her. She met Garran's gaze. “You didn't tell me what your decision is.”
“You didn't ask.” His expression grew serious. “But yes, my people will join yours in the battle against Ceithlenn and the Fomorii.
Relief swept through Hannah. “Thank the goddess.”
“Now we go to your people,” he said.
“Before I go
anywhere
”—she swung her legs over the side of the bed—“I'm taking a shower.”
His teasing smile returned. “Would you like—”
“No.” Hannah got to her feet and ignored his sexy grin. “I don't need your ‘help.' I need you to get out of the room, let me take my shower, and then we can go.”
“As you wish.” Garran winked before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
Hannah rolled her eyes.
Goddess help me. Why did I agree to be his liaison?
She had no blessed clue.
Okay, she did.
If she had left it up to Eavan, they might be going to war,
all right. But it would be the Dark Elves against the D'Danann and D'Anu instead of Ceithlenn and the Fomorii.
With a shake of her head, Hannah started stripping out of her clothing,
really
looking forward to that shower.
GARRAN WAITED BESIDE HANNAH'S doorway, his back against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.
Still smiling from enjoyment at teasing Hannah's prickly outer shell, he shook his head. His senses told him there was far more to Hannah Wentworth than she wanted anyone to see.
His skin felt drawn tight over his muscles as he turned his thoughts to traveling to the D'Danann village. Elves going into the thick of the Fae warriors was not done.
Regardless, Garran had gone to the home of the D'Danann to see his daughter take the D'Danann warrior Keir as her mate.
Today he would go to tell the D'Danann and D'Anu his decision.
It was not long before the door opened, the scents of Elvin-made bathing gel preceding her into the hallway. The same gel was always kept by the bathing pools and waterfalls, but it smelled different on each person who used it.
He inhaled the perfume of moonlight and cherry blossoms that now scented Hannah's soft skin.
She had her leather bag over one shoulder. “I feel
so
much better.” She pulled her dark hair out of the collar of her shirt so that it flowed freely about her shoulders. The unusual blond lock edging one side of her face against her dark hair added to her loveliness. “Now what?”
Garran had to focus his thoughts, tearing them away from Hannah's beauty to consider what he needed to accomplish before they left for the D'Danann village. “First I must visit my troops.”
Hannah fell into step beside him as they walked through the maze of passageways leading to Drow homes and sleeping quarters, and farther on to the village.
“I'll get to see Banshee sooner than I thought.” Hannah sounded pleased and he glanced down to catch the first glimpse of happiness he had seen on her face since she arrived. From the way she immediately calmed her expression, he had a feeling she kept her emotions well schooled. And that true joy was not something she had often experienced.
Why?
Then Garran realized what Hannah had said and thoughts of a quite ugly and more difficult race of Fae beings came to mind. Not only were Banshees formidable opponents, but they had a screech loud enough to render a man unconscious. Many a male had woken hanging upside down in a tree, bound from head to foot.
He almost shuddered. Thank the gods he had been spared that fate.
“Why are you so anxious to see a Banshee?” Garran watched Hannah's face and saw pleasure play over her features before it vanished again.
“Banshee is my familiar.” She glanced up at him. “He's a peregrine falcon.”
“Ah.” Garran nodded his understanding and smiled at the irony. In Otherworld, Banshees had familiars, too. “You named him?”
Hannah shook her head. “He told me his name—sort of. I scried it in my mirror when he first came to me.”
She appeared somewhat more animated as she answered his questions about how long the falcon had been with her and how she used a mirror to scry, and she mentioned that Dragon Elementals helped her visions and enhanced her magic. She paused though, and her features paled as if something suddenly bothered her that she wasn't sharing with him.
She shook her head and said, “I don't know why in the world I'm telling you all of this.”
He raised his brows. “Why not?”
Hannah gave a not-so-casual shrug. “I don't talk to anyone about my relationship with Banshee or my scrying talent.”
She cocked her head as her gaze met his. “Are you using some kind of Drow magic to drag this all out of me?”
Garran laughed. “No, sweet one.” His words grew serious as he continued, “I believe it is merely a connection you and I share.”
This time she looked up at the ceiling of the passageway and said, “Goddess, help me. The man is delusional.”
He snorted back another laugh. The witch was definitely amusing at times.
They entered the Drow village.
Garran inclined his head to those whose paths he crossed, acknowledging every individual with a slightly shuttered expression. As king, he was accessible to his people, but he maintained an appropriate amount of emotional and physical distance.
Hannah was as regal as any queen with her bearing and her polite responses to all of his people who greeted them. Like him, she kept a certain distance from most of the world, quite naturally.
Some people could never adjust to the rigors of ruling a kingdom. Others were born to it.
Garran liked what he saw in her.
As they strode through the village, he found himself lingering over thoughts of having the opportunity to spend more time with Hannah. His attraction to the human witch was beyond the physical. It was as though his soul recognized her in ways he could not fathom.
Clean air constantly swirled through the cavern, blown in through natural vents in the rock ceiling. Occasionally, he would catch the scents of pine and wildflowers, and it would send a hollow ache through his belly, reminding him of Rhiannon's mother and his love for her. That love had not waned, and never would.
With Hannah's entrance into his life, he wondered for the first time in many years if it was possible to love another as much as he had loved Rhiannon's mother.
Garran blew his breath out in a rush. He barely knew Hannah. It was certainly a mystery why his thoughts traveled in such directions.
Yet not,
his own voice echoed inside his mind.
He shook his head as they continued through the village and into another honeycomb of passageways that led to the training cavern.
Swords clanging, arrows whistling through the air, light banter, and shouted orders bounced off passageway walls as Garran and Hannah neared the cavern. When they reached the location his army used to hone their skills, he paused in the great archway and folded his arms. Hannah came up short beside him.
As usual, before he had the opportunity to watch unobserved, the sentries recognized his presence.
“King Garran,” one of the men pronounced, and every warrior in the cavern stopped what he was doing. Each gave a bow as absolute silence fell on Garran's ears.
He held back a sigh. Just once he would like to arrive unnoticed.
Garran raised his hand in acknowledgment. “Resume.” The chamber amplified his voice as he gave the order.
The men immediately returned to their activities, but without the previous raillery.
Sometimes being king … was not easy.
Garran's brother, Naal, had been his closest friend. After Naal was murdered, Garran found it difficult to interact socially with his men. He had lost his only true friend when Naal died, and the person he most trusted as go-between with his warriors and other subjects.
Garran raised his chin and placed his hands behind his back as he waited for Vidar to approach.
Vidar bowed from his shoulders before rising. “Yes, my king?”
“I leave now for the D'Danann village.” Garran met Vidar's dark gaze. “I will return before dawn.”
Vidar gestured to the warriors practicing with swords and bows. “One of our men should accompany you.”
“No.” Garran gave a nod toward Hannah. “Only the D'Anu witch shall go with me.”
Something flickered in Vidar's black eyes when he looked at Hannah that caused Garran to narrow his gaze. He did not like the shadows that darkened Vidar's expression.
Godsdamn
. Garran ground his teeth. When he returned from the D'Danann village, he had much to discuss with his First.
After taking a moment to speak with Vidar, Garran chose to converse with Carden, his Second in Command, as well as two other legion leaders.
Carden was perhaps five centuries younger than Garran while Vidar was older than Garran by a few decades.
Garran had been watching Carden and Vidar since his brother had passed on to Summerland. When Naal, in addition to Garran's Second and Third Commanders, died in the battle at the door to Underworld, both Carden and Vidar had moved up in rank. Vidar from Fourth to become Garran's First and Carden from Fifth to Garran's Second.
Vidar was a shrewd opponent—Garran's best swordsman. The First in Command led his legion with a firm hand and his men served him with dedication and loyalty.
Carden excelled with both the sword and at archery, was sharp-witted, and commanded his legion with authority and fairness.
With his brother's death so recent, Garran had not had the opportunity to truly work with each man to analyze their strengths and weaknesses.
Garran sucked in his breath as he fought back hot waves of anger at himself.
Arrogance. Fucking arrogance
. He had thought himself to have much time to make decisions.
Now he was left with no time.
No time at all.
When finished with Carden and the other two men, Garran
escorted Hannah from the training cavern into a passageway that led to the great hall. She had remained silently at his side as he had given instructions on battle preparation and discussed strategy with his men.
“That Vidar.” Hannah's brow furrowed when Garran glanced down at her. “He sure didn't seem to like me. And the others weren't so friendly, either.”

Other books

The Principal Cause of Death by Mark Richard Zubro
The Green-Eyed Doll by Jerrie Alexander
Vinyl Cafe Unplugged by Stuart McLean
Kingmaker by Rob Preece
Ice Rift by Ben Hammott
El palomo cojo by Eduardo Mendicutti
The White Oak by Kim White
Inevitable Detour by S.R. Grey
Stuff Hipsters Hate by Ehrlich, Brenna, Bartz, Andrea