Shadows of the Keeper (13 page)

“Hang on—“

Garreck waved away Emily’s next
question.  “Another story, another time, Lady Emily.  Aurelia was
chosen to become The Keeper.  Trained in weaponry, educated, and
conditioned for a life of immortality, for thirteen years, she was kept from
everything she knew.  And then, she returned to her kingdom.” 
Garreck’s face became bleak with sorrow.  “So much deceit.”

“Garreck?” Emily whispered. 
“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

“No, Emily.  If one of us had
been courageous enough to speak up to Aurelia, mayhaps much would have been
very different.  Aurelia’s half-brother had poisoned her father,
accelerating his aging process until, within hours of her celebrated return,
Aurelia was setting fire to his burial pyre.”

Emily covered her mouth.

“By nightfall, her kingdom had been
whisked away into a hidden realm for the rest of time this earth shall exist.
Everything she knew, her way of life, culture, friends, forests, mountains, and
sea, all her familiar, gone.”

“Why?  I mean,” Emily was
aghast. “To what end?”

“Her half-brother was Lumynari.”

“Well, shit.”

“Aye,
shit.
”  They
shared a smile before Garreck resumed his tale.

“Drakar, her half-brother, coveted
Aurelia’s throne, but his goddess, Shadow, coveted Aurelia.”

“Aurelia? Why?”

“As the Keeper, she was now
beholden to power Shadow wanted for herself.”

“A goddess would already be pretty
damn powerful.”

Garreck shook his head. 
“Shadow has her own myths and legends, much of it faded from the retelling, but
one thing always stood out: she’d been stripped of much of her power, when
above ground.  Lumynari were to swarm the kingdom, imprison the much
sought after humans—slaves used for practice in their hideous rituals.”

Emily swallowed thickly.  “How
did Aurelia come to be with Broc, and not her kingdom?”

“She was half Lumynari.”

 “Exiled.  Racism.” 
Emily spat out the words contemptuously.

“Her mother was Lady Dulinia, a
beautiful widow, and her father, King Breton, a besotted fool.  He took in
the widow, not realizing she was Ardra’s daughter.”

“Ardra?”  The name from her
dream-vision.  “Aunsgar’s twin.”

Garreck looked to her, and smiled
gently when she shrugged.  “Drinking scotch seems to awaken memories not quite
my own.”

“Unsettling, I am sure.”

Emily nodded.  “To say the least.  Okay,
so marry Aurelia to Urkani—“

“Urkani was—is—high commander of
Aunsgar’s elite.  He possesses magicks studied and learned for a thousand
years.  His first duty is to his liege.  His position required he
remain with Prince Aunsgar, who was to rule Quemori until Aurelia could return
safely, Drakar having been exterminated.”

“Okay, but how was Aunsgar gonna
know if Drakar was now out of the way, if he was in another realm with Broc and
the gang—sorry, not gang, but, well . . .”

Garreck laughed.  “I ken yer’
meaning. An event none of us foresaw:  Aunsgar refused to leave Aurelia
with Outlanders—us, at that time, as we were known.  Though we were the
guardians of Brwenwind Forest, we were rather barbaric.  Personally, I’ve
always suspected Urkani had desired to watch over the princess as well.”

“Your kindness towards Aurelia, and
now me, makes you unpopular with your laird.”

“I am his half-brother.  We
quarrel often, but I alone guard his back.”

“I thought that was Reignsfeugh’s
job.”

“The Celt places himself wherever
he sees fit.”

“He’s a real Celt? 
Wow.”  She pointed to her head.  “The designs?”

“Initiation into our tribe after
he’d lost all.”

“Lumynari?”

“No.  A tribe of people no
longer existing, not even history has yet ta’ discover.  Doubt they left
anything behind for archaeologists.  They were nomads.  Poisoned most
of his village, stealing possessions, then moved out before morning mists
cleared.  Reignsfeugh had been hunting alone, the passage of a boy into
manhood.  Returning, after several weeks of his isolated journey with the
prize of all kills, a bear, and with nothing more than a knife, strategy, and
his wits,”  Garreck sighed, exasperated with himself.  “I’m tangling
details.  Reignsfeugh’s people believed the closer you achieved a kill
with your bare hands, the higher your rank into manhood.  The larger the
carcass, the more value you showed yourself to be to the tribe.”

“In the meantime, his tribe is
being wiped out.”

Garreck nodded.  “By the time
he turned for home, he smelled the stench of death and saw the circle of
buzzards in the sky long before the village came into sight.”

Emily grimaced.  “That poor
man—
kid
, wasn’t he just a boy?”

“Aye.  Even if he hadn’t
succeeded the hunt, on that day, he became a man in the worst possible
way.  Not even a dog was left to bark.  None survived.”

“Who were these people?”

“You won’t be able to pronounce the
word in our language, but loose translation means ‘Bleeders’.”

“Helluva name.”

“Few surviving their savage
foraging have told hair raising tales of how, during the night, as villagers
lay dying from poisoned ale and food, Bleeders would cut their own shoulders
allowing blood to river down their arms as they danced around bonfires, and the
dying.”

Emily’s amber eyes darkened. 
“Scatter ash, that they not smell our trail.  Be wary smoke, they forever
assail.  Sister Wind by day, my mother by night, protect us from
Whuulgnah, our enemy of might.”

Garreck’s jaw dropped.  “Mi’
lady, ye’ speak spells handed down—how could you ken such words?  Ancient,
milady.”

“I . . . don’t know.  I see
out someone’s eyes, and I see a woman, young, very young, and with dark skin,
exotic, her hair is like black ink, long, long and glossy.  She’s looking
to me, nods as I repeat after her the spells you just heard.  Many people
walk towards us.  She’s dropping ash as we walk.  A caravan of
people.  There aren’t many of us left.  We’re being followed.” 
Emily’s eyes rounded.  “I see you and Reignsfeugh!  All of you. 
I see us . . . hiking.  It’s so cold.”  Emily shuddered, folding her
arms, huddling.  “Hard to breathe.  Rain.  So much rain. 
It washes the ash away.  We’re stopping.  We’re being followed. 
Why are we stopping?”  Emily shook her head, cobwebs clearing. 
“What’s happening to me, Garreck?”

“I will take you to Aunsgar. 
He has mandated you will weapons train with him.  It is his knowledge you
seek for your answers.”

“I fail to understand why I must
suffer partial stories and hidden truths.”  Emily surged from the chaise,
brushing past Garreck.  She did not notice the shock on his face, nor his
reflexive grasp tightening around the hilt of his ancient sword, regardless his
attire, that he was never without.

Lady Emily’s tirade had been spoken
in the Balkorian . . . the language of Lumynari.

Strangers to him, these oaks, pine
and elm.  Alive and humming, yet not as ancient as his beloved trees of
Mt. Grwenwood, nor Brwenwind Forest.  Still, he could not refrain from
placing his hands upon their bark, enthralled by their stories.  And they
were plentiful.  Never had a forest encountered someone possessing ability
to hear them, communicate in return, or laugh at their stiff humor. 
Stories vibrated and hummed, all speaking on cue, interjecting their bit of the
tale like scenes read for a play.  Their scratchy voices spoke of warriors
he’d viewed in Allen’s books, their coppery bodies painted, these warriors much
like Elvenkind, kindred with all creatures of the forest; respectful of nature
and all she had to offer.  Pine, oak and ash told of catastrophic storms,
brethren they’d lost to flames, and humans, the way squirrels tickled when
racing—collectively, they silenced.

She burst into the glen, a ray of
light in an otherwise darkened copse.  Her hair, an unusual silvery
mixture, almost glowed like moonbeams. 

He was spellbound. 

A nymph? 
Here
? 
But, they had vacated from these lands, long before humans had arrived. 
Unaware of his presence, she made her way to a flat-topped boulder he’d not
been aware of seconds earlier.  The rock was large enough in diameter that
many men could pull up chairs and conduct council meetings, its top a makeshift
table of sorts.  He’d also seen the likes used for laying battle maps
upon.  He shook himself from memories of bloodshed.  The woman made
swirling motions on the massive rock’s top with her index finger, then placed
her palm in its center.  Even from here, the Elven prince could hear the
boulder begin to hum.

She vanished!

Startled, he could only stand
there, and try very hard not to have his jaw drop down in a very un-Elven like
manner, because . . . for mere seconds, before she’d disappeared, he could have
sworn he saw the inside of Castle MacLarrin’s great hall.  What sorcery
played here?  And how was it, Lumynari were seated at a trestle table,
breaking their fast with Forest Lords and Lady Emily?

About to move closer towards where
she’d been standing, sudden thrashing of brush and cursing forced him to
quickly press back in the shadows of spruce.  

Two males burst into the
clearing.  Human.  Mortal.  Aunsgar had never seen such a
gargantuan sized man before, his girth easily the size of three men, his legs
more like tree stumps than flesh and bone.  The other was slight in frame,
almost bent with his thinness, and sniffling.  Coughing.  More
sniffling, gasping for breath.  He pulled something from his pocket, put
it into his mouth and inhaled deeply.  Replacing the odd contraption into
his pocket, Aunsgar watched the man’s color revive as his breathing
eased. 

The woman shimmered.

The giant lurched, fisted her hair,
and yanked back.

The woman screamed, struggled and
was thrown to the ground.  The thin man aimed his peculiar weapon at her
face.  She cowered as the giant put a white stick of sorts in his mouth,
then lit it with fire from a small device.  Smoke emanated from nostrils
large enough to be classified as a snout.  Stench of smoke wafted closer
to Aunsgar.  Almost, the Elven prince gagged.  Trees whimpered. 
His hand still upon the oak, he received hasty visions of these white
contraptions causing immense blazes.

Aunsgar was in a vision.  A
dream-vision.  Yet, unlike before,
this
time his flesh puckered in
the chill winter air, he could smell dank forest debris,
and
male
humans’ sweat, both pungent enough to taste.  Her racing heart pulsated in
his ears as if it were his own.  If closer, he knew he could reach out and
touch her just as certainly as he touched these various trees. 

For reasons he’d examine later,
he’d been brought here to save her.  Muttering incantations he’d not
needed in nearly three millennia, his sword suddenly appeared in his hand;
around him, air tightened and then released.  The ancient war horn of his
people sounded, blown from his long dead ancestors.  He heard her quick
intake of breath.  The largest of her enemies spun, nearly toppling from
his weight.

“Who the hell are you?”

“You will release my betrothed.” 
Aunsgar had no idea what possessed him to make such a claim.  Visions
weren’t always something one could control.

The man aimed his weapon. 
Clicking ensued.  Aunsgar was pretty sure something had gone terribly
wrong, judging by the startled look on the man’s face.  Thin man
charged.  He too suffered difficulty managing his weapon.  As he
closed in on Aunsgar, he flipped the long stick around, wielding it as a
club.  Aunsgar leapt into the air.  Spun.  Swiped his
sword.  Descended.  His nameless enemy stared, stupefied.  Blood
seeped from his neck.  Aunsgar watched the man fall to his knees, dead
before his torso thudded against the ground.  Elven prince wasted no time
with the enemy still to his back.  In one fluid motion, he was airborne,
turned, swiped his sword across the enemy, and descended, his own body now a
barrier between the woman and the giant, though he knew the male would never
again torment this woman.

The man’s head toppled forward,
rolled down his robust frame, and cradle-rocked upon forest debris.

Behind him, the woman retched.

Kit
, Sister Wind whispered.
Kit,
Kit, Kit
.  Laughter faded from the elemental as she gusted upwards
towards the canopy.  Aunsgar slowly turned and looked down at the
woman.  Up close, her hair was even more glorious, her bone structure
tiny, her fear palpable.

“Kit?”

She looked up at him and both froze,
stunned.  “H-how do you know my name?”

He stepped back.  “How is it
your eyes glitter like that of the Lumynari, yet, clearly, you are human?”

Shaken roughly, Aunsgar opened his
eyes. 

Urkani towered over him. 
Wildly, Aunsgar scanned his surroundings.  His private solar. 
Alba.  He’d been napping in front of the hearth . . .

His commander glowered down at
him.  Uncharacteristic.

“Kit,” Aunsgar said, surprised by
the weakness of his voice.

“Still, you seek meaning?”

“I have, at long last, found the
answer to the riddle.  She will need me.”  Aunsgar swept his long
legs over the side of the chaise, sitting up.  About to rub his face free
of vision-cobwebs, Urkani grabbed his hands.  Questioningly, Aunsgar
looked up—

“How are my hands covered with
blood?”

“Perhaps she has already made use
of you?”

“We must prepare.  Her peril
is not over.  She will not have time.”

“So, this strange word,
Kit
,
is a place where we will find ourselves doing battle?”

Aunsgar crossed the length of his
large private chamber and poured soothing warm water over his hands from an
ancient urn.  “I sensed Maira’s soul.  In this life, she is called
Kit.  And she will be my wife.”  Aunsgar paused his task and lifted
his head, staring off.  “Her eyes glowed.”

“Lumynari?”

Aunsgar made of face of confusion
and shrugged his shoulders.

Urkani passed his liege a drying
cloth.  “A thousand years, you have searched for meaning. 
Wife? 
Lumynari
?”

“For the first
time
in a
thousand years, I feel alive.” Aunsgar dried his face, laughed, and just as
abruptly, sobered.  “I hope I did not cry out?”

“No, I had just arrived to tell you
Dezenial mentally communicates with Princess Emily.”

Aunsgar closed his eyes.  “I
will not allow Forest Lords, nor Pendaran, to once again cause her death. 
Nor will I allow them to keep her from her one true mate.  Not this time.”

“We will forsake ourselves.”

Aunsgar grinned.  “You hardly
seem alarmed by such a notion.”

“We have awaited the return of our
true queen far longer than any of us expected.  In such time, we have seen
neither Pendaran, nor the Elders.  May they all be damned for what they
have wrought upon us; what they will wrought upon Emily, should they return.”

“Tell me more about Dezenial having
communicated with our spirited Emily.”

“As you will do likewise, and
reveal more, this vision of a human possessing Lumynari traits.”