Shadows of the Keeper (35 page)

“It would seem you are in need of
a rescuing.”

“I should hit you.  My head
hurts too much.”

His hold tightened.

“Please, please do not leave
me.  Please don’t let me go.”  Heat radiating from his neck acted
like a blessed heating pad against her agonizing head.

“Shhhh.  You are with
me.”  Unintelligibly, he muttered, then blew softly across her face. 
Pain ceased. 

“I think my lips hurt too. 
Badly.”

“Imp,” he growled low for her ears
only.  “I am
not
blowing on your mouth.”

“Could you blow on my—“

“
Keer’dra
!”

She muffled her girly laugh against
his neck.  His growl of fake annoyance curled her toes.

“I ruined your dinner party.” 
She dared a peek.  “They’re looking at me as if I’ve introduced them to
the wonders of fire.”

“It is our way.”

“If I’d known that, I’d have killed
the lot of you.  I’d be praised and statues made to forever honor me.”

“Indeed.”

Her nose twitched.  She held
her breath for as long as she could, her eyes closed to block out the
carnage.  “Why does this keep happening?”  she muttered to no
one.  Chairs scraped.  “Everyone’s standing again?”

“Yes.”

“You should re-enter every ten
minutes so they have to keep standing just as they get comfortable.”

“You enjoy antagonizing.”

Emily opened her eyes.  “You
Lumynari
are
entertaining when pissed.”

“
Keer’dra
.”

“I know, I know,” she changed her
voice to imitate his deep accented baritone.  “Lumynari are not to be
toyed with.”

“I should beat you.”

“Will you be naked?”

He arched a brow down at her,
stared pointedly at her overly exposed cleavage, then slowly crawled back up to
her amber eyes.  “I’m sure we can arrange something.”

“Perv.”

“You tremble with desire.”

“Well, maybe if you’d dress like a
normal guy—“

“I am a Shadow Master.  I will
never be this
normal guy
.”

“Thank God for small favors.”

They shared a grin, Emily waggling
her brows up at him.  “I can walk.”

“I am carrying you just fine.”

“An excuse to look chivalrous.”

His grin widened.  “An excuse
to keep you leashed.”

“Now it will be
me
beating
you
for that comment.  Dick.”

Dezenial chuckled.  “Hush, I
must look stern and deadly.”

“I’ll play the part of the helpless
damsel in distress.”  Her head fell against his chest, a heavy sigh
escaping her.  For added measure, her arm flailed then hung limp.

“Scarlett would be impressed.”

The heavy lashes that shadowed her
cheeks flew up.  “How do you know—“

“Inzyr.”

“I can’t even fathom.”

“Nor can I, now, hush.”

She let him nearly clear the dining
hall before giving voice to her fear.  “I’ll be hunted even more
vigorously now.”

“Not how things are done down here,
Emily.”

“I couldn’t help it.  She
pissed me off.”

He vibrated with laughter.

“I just killed someone, and you
laugh?”

“She challenged you.  Her
objective was your death.  You merely met her challenge
and
called
her bluff.  You made a few very rich tonight and several others regret
they’d sided with the priestess and not the human.”

“Jeeze, at least try to act like it
was a terrible thing I did.”

“I will never fake anything with
you, Keer’dra.  You will be hailed a champion until your next challenge.”

She reared.  “There’ll be
more?”

“No.  Inzyr will decapitate
the next fool thinking to even come close to disrespecting you—“

“Is that what happened to the
Lumynari sitting next to me?”

Dezenial’s expression turned
mercurial.  “He dared look at your leg.”

Emily did everything she could not
to burst out laughing. 

She failed miserably.  “Good
thing I didn’t flash him a tit.”

“I’d have . . . “

“Yes?”

“It doesn’t bare putting into words
what I would have been capable of.”

Emily nuzzled his warm neck. 
“Now you know how I feel about Ms. Perfect Tits flirting with you.  Next
bitch that thinks to slink up next to you and purr, I’m going to cut out her
tongue, hang her by her long hair, and—“

Dezenial’s rumbling laughter caused
her to silence her threat, her own giggles mingling with his joy.  “You
belong to me, Keer’dra.”

She deflated.  “I’m so tired.”

“Too much excitement for a tiny
human.”

“This tiny human has wreaked havoc
in your life.”

“There is that.  We will need
to consider an appropriate punishment.”

She sighed, overly content to be
carried as they began down a barely lit cavernous walkway.  He was so
strong.  He strode through various caverns at a remarkable pace,
effortlessly carrying her.  Never in her life had she felt this
safe.  What would it feel like to be loved by this majestic being?  A
warrior.  A
real
warrior, not some paperback cover to drool
over.  Possessed, that’s what it would feel like.  With him, there
would be a true sense of belonging.  His long white hair, brushed free of
its usual thin braids, swept her arm like a silk shawl as she clasped him even
tighter.  She felt giddy.  Silly.  Girly.  Being carried
allowed her to hold this hot, lickable Lumynari close, inhaling the very
essence of him.

Her deep inhale and brazen
musings—she failed to remember—were being mentally heard by Dezenial with
tortuous clarity.  Hot?  Lickable?  Little did she realize, she
entrenched herself deeper into his heart.

And his lust.

“A trap,” Aunsgar warned.

“A way in,” Broc argued.

“Took your time getting here,
Outlander
!”

“Seems your Elders had other ideas
regarding your care.”

“And you do obey orders so well.”

Broc lunged at Blade, Aunsgar, fast
as wind, tackled the incensed Forest Lord.  “To grasp his hilt is assured
death,” the prince hissed, holding down the powerful laird with strength
belying his lithe form.

The weapon quivered.  “Yes,
yes, take my hilt—“

“You will cease,” a deep voice
resonated.  Dark robes flapped in the chilling wind of descending
night.  The Elder moved closer to the weapon protruding from the
snow.  Broc tolerated Aunsgar assisting him back to his feet all the
while, glaring at the cursed sword. 

A beacon.  A mockery. 
But from Lumynari, or Blade?  Why had the Shadow Masters not kept the
weapon?  Something like Blade would be considered invaluable loot. 
How was it Blade didn’t currently adorn Shadow’s hip?  Or find himself being
studied in hopes of figuring out the magicks placing the spirit within the
blade to begin with?  The horizon to their backs earned his
scrutiny.  MacLarrin Castle remained cloaked in mist.  Yet
something
had known it was there, looking out at the world like an invisibly sentry.

Blade
.

The treacherous sword had known the
castle would be there.  So too, he’d known lookouts would be posted,
observing anything amiss in hopes it would lead to Emily.  “Where is
she?”  Broc demanded.  “You led her to them, didn’t you?”

“If you had not conceded to my
being buried, I would have never been parted from her.”

Broc shrugged free of Aunsgar’s
grip, moving closer to the sword.

“You were to guard her, Blade,” the
grizzled Elder stated.  Silence ensued.  After a strange standoff,
the ancient faced Broc.  “I am Xyn.”  He nodded, Broc doing
likewise.  “You will take the sword.  He will guide you to The
Keeper.”

Broc stared, complete surprise on
his face.  “He will slice my throat first chance given.”

Xyn raised his hand.  “He has
been . . . shall we say,
redirected
?”  Xyn’s odd violet eyes
twinkled, much like Aunsgar’s when up to one of his Elf pranks under the guise
of ‘For Broc’s Own Good’.  The laird snorted in disbelief and turned
away.  Breath billowed in front of him, frigid air warning of more
snow.  He owed nothing to these men, regardless their power, their
position.  How could they have not intervened, preventing Emily from
becoming prisoner of Lumynari?  A memory rocked him.  He swung his
head back around, glaring at Xyn from over his shoulder.  Where were they
when Emily was but a small child and came under attack, her parents executed in
full witness?

“Everything is for a reason,” Xyn
stated.

“You read minds.”  Broc was
tempted to whip up one of Emily’s retorts, but declined.

Xyn spoke in an odd, but gentle
voice.  “Paths are created by Lady Destiny—vicious goddess—pawns placed
upon these paths, then given choices.  Whichever path these pawns choose,
not even we dare cross Destiny, nor her sister, Lady Fate.”

Broc took a menacing step towards
the old man. “I care not
which
god, Emily is no pawn!”  Aunsgar
grabbed Broc’s arm, staying the ancient Forest Lord from power best not
crossed. He was helpless to stop the laird from speaking.  “My people were
no’ pawns, nor was Aurelia!”

“Emily was observed, as were others
. . . as were you.”

Broc snorted his
indifference.  “I far surpass caring about the opinions of those content
ta’ observe, too cowardly to intervene.  Nay, ye’ cower and hide from
battle, then swoop down from yer’ lofty pedestal, and dole out judgment and
punishments.”

Aunsgar squeezed his
shoulder.  “Careful, my friend.”

“Or what?  I’m turned into
some hideous creature?”  Hair whipping wildly in the increasing wind, Broc
shot Blade a glare of pure loathing.  “Perhaps welded into a weapon tha’
fer’ all its supposed glory, could no’ even keep a wee lass from harm, aye?”

“A difficult woman in this
time.  I cannot help I’ve awakened into an age where women have been so
neglected by man as to no longer have an affinity for their counsel.”

“
Counsel
?” Broc’s eyes
burned onyx.  “You had no business calling to her—oh, aye, Blade, I ken it
‘twas by the call of yer’ voice she’d even ken ta’ look fer’ ye’.  Ye’
ne’er dared call ta’ me!”  Stealthily, the laird advanced upon the
weapon.  “Why is that?  Three thousand years, and ye’ ne’er made a
sound.  Difficult woman?  She is a modern. 
Aurelia
was a
difficult woman! 
She
wielded the power over ye’.  What power
could a modern possibly ‘ave that ye’ could no’ control?”  Broc now loomed
over the sword, its hilt standing tall and proud in the snow, level with Broc’s
chest.  “Ne’er ‘ave Lumynari entered Aunsgar’s domain.  No trails
could be found, no’ even by the Elves and their uncanny eyesight.  Why is
that?”  He spun, glaring at Xyn.  “Perhaps, Blade, ye’ ‘ad help in
Emily’s abduction.”

“Broc, curb your temper; be wary
your accusations,” Aunsgar warned.

“Perhaps the
Outlander
needs
to save face, so places blame elsewhere,” Blade snarled.

“Ye’ say Outlander like ‘tis a
dirty word—“

“I come from a time it was.”

Broc growled, rage erupting. 
Yanking Blade from the snow, seething fury course through him.

Aunsgar sprinted towards his friend
. . . and slammed against an invisible barrier.

“Now, Kintharin!” Xyn commanded.

Blade illuminated.  Chanting
commenced.  Broc’s arm forcibly yanked high above his head, brandishing
the fiery sword.  Arcs of lightning flashed down from the weapon into
Broc, his head thrown back, howling.

Roaring their ancient battle cries,
Forest Lords charged.  Aunsgar stepped away from the shield.  An eye
command from him, and his elite guards joined him, placing themselves in front
of the lethal ancient warriors.

“He forges Broc and the blade as
one . . . as it was for Emily and Aurelia.”

“I will no’ stand by, Elf, and
allow him to be killed under the guise of good magic.”  Garreck pointed
his claymore at Aunsgar.  “We are victims of such sorcery already.”

“Broc is not being killed.” 
Aunsgar sidestepped Garreck’s blade, and lowered his voice.  “Trust me in
this.  I too would not allow anything to happen to him.”

Garreck studied the Elf for brief
seconds and saw no lie in his words.  Nodding his ascent, he lowered his
weapon.  Surrounding Forest Lords did likewise. 

“But, Aunsgar,” Garreck whispered
in Elvish, “if our laird dies, this
forging
nothing more than treachery,
you
will be the first to join him on his journey to meet our ancestors.”

*   *   *   *   *

“I hate my hair pulled back,
pinned, coifed, braided.”

“You will be grateful.  Down
here, long, loose flowing hair enables enemies an advantage, should any take
temporary leave of their minds and actually attack.”

“I don’t think I need to weapons
train.”  Emily waggled her fingers to emphasize her point. 

“There are weapons far surpassing
fire from your hands.”

“My head is killing me.  Just
what was in that little drink you gave me last night?”  Neon green, and in
a decadent reed thin crystal flute, Dezenial set it atop a flame before passing
it to her.

“I explained it was to make you
relax and sleep.  My body stretched out next to yours would have kept you
too . . .
distracted
.”  He waved his hand, dismissing the
subject.  The night had been worse than the whips slicing into his
flesh.  Her body had been molten with desire.  An untouched maiden,
she’d made his blood boil, but he was determined The Claiming would only
commence when she fully understood its consequences.  He would not have
her screaming in sheer terror when witnessing his true form during the ritual
of merging her soul with his.

The she-devil started snapping her
fingers at him.  By Hades, she tried his patience today.

“Hello?  Anybody home? 
Earth to Dezenial. Ah, have your attention now, eh?  Red glowing eyes
don’t impress me, you’re wasting the effort.  As I was saying, we will
find other sleeping arrangements.  Sleeping with a man is unacceptable.”

“But then, I am not a man, am I?”
he hissed, teeth clenched.  “Furthermore, your vows are of no consequence
when you are powerless  to see them through.  You will continue
slumbering next to me.”  His gaze narrowed.  “Until you breathe your
last.  But, never fear,” he folded his arms, “your precious virginity is
safe.”

“Why I share the details of my life
is beyond me.  Don’t you have prisoners to torment?  Heads to lop
off?”

“Are there pins in your chair?”

“No . . . I don’t think so.” 
Emily twisted, searching the velvet stool she sat upon as her hair was plaited
into hundreds of thin braids.  The women had been pulling at her scalp for
hours.

Dezenial yawned.  “You seem to
be prickly this day.  I was curious if—“

“
Prickly
?”  Waving
wildly as if shooing flies, Emily succeeded in scattering her stylists. 
She charged Dezenial.  “You dare begin my day practicing incantations and
telepathy with that evil incarnate puppet of yours, Inzyr, then you enhance my
mood by having my hair yanked and tugged.”  She jabbed his chest with each
word.  “I.need.
coffee
. I cannot start my day any other way.  I
need caffeine.  I need dark and sweet—“

Erotic grin smeared his face.

She backhanded his chest. 
“Not
that
, perv!  Please, I’ll do anything . . . coffee.”  She
clenched her temples.  “I’m going to shave my head.  These are
torturing me.  No wonder Shadow Masters are always pissed off.  I’d
be in a killing mood too—let go!”  She smacked Dezenial’s bared chest as
he dipped towards her, effortlessly tossing her across his shoulder.  She
resumed pelting his backside.

WHACK
!

Emily arched.  Bloodcurdling
scream echoed.  “You
hit
me!”

“You were not spanked enough as a
child.”  He vacated his solar and entered a wide corridor.

“That hurt.”  She sniffed,
eyes watering. 

“It was meant to.  I grow
weary of your complaints.”

“You meant to hurt me?”  She
began rubbing her hands.

“Once spark of heat felt upon my
legs and I will teach you the true meaning of torture, Keer’dra.”

Emily diffused her hands.  His
chuckled ignited something dark deep within her.

“Put me down.  This is
degrading.”

“Exactly.”

Teeth sank viciously into his
flesh.

Howling male rage ricocheted
throughout carved-from-granite tunnel.  Another whack resonated followed
by a scream of pain.  “Dick!”  She collapsed against him, tears of
pain streaming down her forehead, saturating her hair. She would
never
spank a child. God damn, but spankings were painful!

And then, she spied it.

Whipping dagger from his thigh
scabbard, her hand reared to plunge lethal blade into his leg.  Dezenial
tossed her to the ground, his hand clasping her throat.  “Decide quickly,
Princess Emily.  Forfeiture of your life, should that weapon touch my
flesh.”

She swiped across his midsection,
forcing him to release her neck and jump back, lest he be sliced in two. 
Tamping down Lumynari rage, blue eyes became glacier.  “None take weapon—“

“I warned you, numb-nuts, I need
coffee!”  Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, crouched and ready. 
“Would you care to tempt fate again?”  Emily’s voice lowered.  “This
time, there
will
remain scars across your belly.”

His eyes morphed into red flames.

“Ahhhh, getting a little angry?”
she cajoled.  “You will learn, spanking me isn’t going to be something you
repeat. 
Ev-er
!”

He muttered something in his
language. 

“Cast your spells.  Too afraid
to fight fairly?”

“No, I warn mercenaries, should you
draw blood, not to kill you.”

Emily whipped her head around.

Dezenial pounced, grabbing her
tightly around her waist, squeezing the dagger from her fingers.  Yowling
with pain, the blade clattered loudly against the ground.  “It is time you
understand I can be pushed only so far,” he hissed behind her ear.

Her skull smashed his face. 
Abruptly released, she fell painfully onto her knees and rolled away.  It
was very satisfying to see his blood dripping on the ground.  She lunged, retrieved
the dagger and resumed her crouch.  Sardonic amusement lit her face as she
watched her opponent swipe blood from his mouth.

“Think again before offering
lessons, oh teacher,” she mocked.

“I will not continue this game you
play.  Your skill is amateur.”

“Yet you bleed.”

“You think to battle me?”

“You spanked me.  You started
it.  I plan on finishing it.”  She began swaying, alternating her
weight between each foot. 
Only thing missing from this stance is a
tennis racket
.

Hysteria threatened.

“You are spoiled and in need of
discipline.”

Her humor vanished. 
“Discipline?”  She stood upright, and statue-still.

Deep hurt from his words was not
lost on him.  “A beating if you are not careful,” he teased, attempting to
lighten her already fragile emotions.

She tossed the knife aside. 
“Perhaps you should consult with Peter on just how to accomplish that. 
Come near me anytime soon,
Lumynari
, I’ll rip you limb from limb.” 
She spun around, and charged towards an armed garrison.  “Get out of my
way,” she hissed, throwing up her arm.  Shock nearly halted her when they
hastened to obey.  Rapid footfalls from behind, her neck prickling with
apprehension.