That was the worst of it, that it all had been a blunder, an error in judgment. That knowledge sat like a lump in her stomach, heavy and sour.
Though, she reflected resentfully, she now had more reason to help Egann find the missing amulet. If by doing so, the powerful stones could help him lift an age-old curse, any danger she found herself in would be well worth the trouble.
And what of her? Could the small magic that she created when she shadow danced be of any use to her now? Somehow Deirdre doubted it, as she was but a human and the so-called magic produced by her dance was more of a good-luck charm than anything tangible. The people of the cliffs had used it to bless their crops and promise a fruitful harvest, nothing more.
Truly, she had little magic, not like the Fae. Egann had told her as much, once before. She was mortal, after all. What magic she was able to create with her Shadow Dance was used for blessings, good crops and fertile fields, nothing more. She had only her dreams and the visions of the amulet, that and the powerful attraction between her body and Egann’s. That would have to be enough, for now.
As long as she could avoid the Maccus, with the killing fires they made as they sacrificed to their red and angry god.
Now that she knew why they sought to kill Shadow Dancers and that they had their own sort of magic, they were a formidable threat indeed.
She peered at the winding road ahead, trying to see where they were going. As if the weather mocked her, clouds scuttled across the face of the moon, plunging them into sudden darkness.
She knew a moments disorientation, then the solid feel of Egann on the horse behind her gave her ease.
“If the Maccus have the amulet,” she asked, speaking her fears out loud, “What protection will I, and others that Dance in the Shadows, have from them?”
“I have thought of that,” his voice sounded as cool as the ice that sometimes crusted the winter sea. “When next I locate the Maccus who seeks to wear it, I will find a place to hide you.”
“You mean to face them alone?”
“Aye. `Tis me they have stolen from, and I cannot do battle with them and protect you all at the same time.” He spoke in the reasonable tone of one who knows he is right.
This so irked Deirdre that she found herself speechless.
But only for a moment. Incredulous, she shot him a glance and a stiff smile. “Have you not heard a single thing I have said? Have my dreams and the visions I have seen had no influence on your thoughts?”
“Few hours remain before the dawn. I have no wish to quarrel with you.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth when the wind began to howl. Above them, the clouds chose that moment to loose the rain. Icy needles of water stabbed her, as the wind continued its vicious assault. Deirdre began to shiver in earnest, unable to control the tremors that shook her.
Immediately Egann spurred Weylyn on.
“We must find shelter,” he shouted, “I like not how the air seems to crackle with energy.”
She felt it too – the sense of lurking danger, like lightening waited to strike them, not from the sky above, but from the ground below.
Even her little kitten, snuggled within the folds of her robe, seemed to sense something. Poking her tiny head up, she yowled at Deirdre, fur bristling.
Weylyn began to run, though the night was dark and the slashing rain made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.
With a hand on her shoulder, Egann pushed Deirdre down, so that she crouched low over the powerful horse's neck. Egann bent over her. This blocked some of the rain, though she could not control her violent shivering.
And so they charged ahead, headed north into the inky darkness, while the storm did its best to discourage them.
When morning came, would they even know it? Never had Deirdre been caught unaware by the advent of day, until she met this prince of Rune.
"We will find you shelter before daylight," Egann promised, making her wonder if he had somehow read her thoughts.
"I know." She took a deep breath, glad for once that he could not see her expression. "I worry more that Weylyn will stumble and hurt himself."
"He has the eyes of a cat." This explanation begged for questions, but Deirdre liked not the increasing feel of some sort of current that still flowed and swirled around them.
"It grows stronger," she said, knowing he would understand her words.
"Aye, it does. This storm," though Egann shouted, the screech of the wind carried his words away, "`tis not natural. Something else—"
Five riders, wind whipping their dark cloaks around them, materialized in the gloomy darkness around them.
Sliding to a bone-jarring halt, Weylyn tossed his head and let out a sound that none could mistake for any less than a warning.
Two blocked on the path behind them, three others barred their way in front. Five cloaked and hooded riders total, though she doubted this time they meant to disappear.
Maccus
. Deirdre knew it before Egann spoke the word into her ear. Her stomach clenched. Was this then how she would meet her end? Not by stepping into the hot light of the sun, but destroyed by these evil beings?
The tale Fiallan had told them came to mind.
"Egann," Deirdre leaned back, half-shouting at his face.
"If Fiallan spoke true, then these Maccus can carry no swords."
The savage smile Egann flashed her showed that he had already reached the same conclusion. If the Maccus were inherently of the same race as he, then the metal of a sword would be deadly to them as well. None could carry them, for to do so was to run the risk of becoming violently ill just by one touch of the deadly steel.
She remembered what Egann had told her earlier.
I can only act against them once they attack me. Magic to Magic.
As abruptly as it had begun, the storm died.
"Is your magic so powerful that you can control the weather?" Egann's tone was cold, that of a righteous King chastising his enemy.
One of the three riders, the one in the middle, rode forward. Still his dark cloak hid him, for he did not remove the hood so that they might see his face.
"We seek the secret of the gemstones." His voice, nasal and pitched low, sounded flat and somehow deadly.
Incredulous, Deirdre dared not look back at Egann. That they were so bold, making no secret that they were the thieves who had taken the amulet. These men did not want her, apparently they had no idea that a Shadow Dancer rode with Egann. Or they did not care.
"Fools." Egann's hawk like profile exuded authority and, as she had many times before, Deirdre knew in her heart that none but he could rightfully rule Rune. "You admit then that you have the amulet?"
Motionless, by their very silence they gave him an answer.
Egann's voice rang out with authority. "Then you have stolen that which belongs to me. I would have you return it. Now."
The Maccus, as cowardly villains always do when faced with something stronger than them, muttered uneasily among themselves. Except for the one who had ridden forward. He remained motionless, his shadowed face inside the black hole created by his hood revealing nothing.
This one, Deirdre sensed, was the most dangerous. The others were merely his henchmen.
The hooded one spoke. "I have nothing to return. I am not the one who wears the talisman. I was sent to retrieve only an answer."
"Sent by whom?"
Slowly, the Maccus shook his head. Still the hood did not fall away, still his features remained hidden from them.
When he next spoke, his words seemed to come with great reluctance. "The one who wears the jewel has sent us. He would know the truth about this trinket he treasures."
"Trinket?" Egann snarled the word. He urged Weylyn forward, fists clenched on the reins. "The amulet is treasured greatly by my people."
Though he remained motionless, Deirdre sensed in the hooded one a flinching, perhaps in fear of Egann, perhaps in dread of the reprisal he would suffer were he to fail in his appointed task.
"I must return with an answer," the Maccus said finally, echoing Deirdre's thoughts.
"Why would you think that one such as I would know this secret?" With his words and his tone, Egann mocked them. "Even more importantly, if I did know, why would you even begin to believe that I would tell you?"
As though it felt its rider's impatience, the Maccus's mount pawed the dirt in front of him.
"A new dawn will come soon." This time when the leader spoke, his raspy voice held a challenge. "I see no shelter where your Shadow Dancer might hide from the sun's burning rays. We will keep you here, keep her here, trapped in the open while you watch her slowly die!"
Incredulous, Deirdre watched as the Maccus backed his horse so that the three formed a solid line. The other two remained motionless on the road behind them.
"Fools," Egann said, his voice cold and hard. "You have left me two choices. We could simply ride past you, knowing that once you attempt to do me harm I can – and will – destroy you with a wave of my hand."
"And endanger the woman? She can die by our hands much more quickly than by the rays of the sun." The Maccus said, seemingly unperturbed by this notion.
But Deirdre, feeling the warmth of Egann's hand as he held hers, knew that Egann meant to use his second option, whatever that might be.
"You forget who and what I am." His extraordinary eyes blazed and glowed. He spoke again, nonsensical words that meant nothing and everything. Deirdre felt the now-familiar swooping pull at her insides, the disorientation as the landscape shifted. Before the Maccus could do more than mutter among themselves, Egann made himself, Deirdre, and Weylyn vanish.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
This time, since Egann did not attempt to take Deirdre into Rune, they both arrived on Weylyn's back at the same place, a fishing village many miles up the Northern Coast near Dunster.
They stood on a rocky bluff, in sand and stones and tall grass that waved in the wind, high above the dark sea.
`Twas still night, and clouds even here shrouded the waxing moon. The air smelled of salt, and the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below reminded him of the cliffs where he had first seen Deirdre dance.
Here near the sea, more than any other place, the veil that separated earth and Rune was the thinnest. He felt the presence of magic, the tingle of awareness it brought, even in the energy that rolled up from the water.
From the cry of appreciation Deirdre gave, and the joyous lift of her chin as she sniffed the air, she too felt something.
"The Maccus are gone," he said, unnecessarily.
Turning in the saddle, she flashed him a smile of such bemused joy that he couldn't help but chuckle.
"You brought me home."
Though he meant to touch her as little as possible, he could not seem to stop himself from cupping her chin with one hand and dipping his head to sample her curved mouth.
"Nay, not home," he murmured, wondering why the very taste of her made him hunger for more. "We have traveled North, up the coast. My instincts and Fiallan's tell me that the amulet will be found here."