Still he could not shake the sense of impending danger.
A profound silence seemed to come over the day as the sun continued its brassy rise in the sapphire sky. The air grew warm and humid and, except for the drone of an occasional insect, he detected no obvious threat. As the perfect spring morning waned into afternoon, he ate one of the apples he'd taken from the orchard with a bit of bread and cheese. He took water to Weylyn and Cinnie, and then continued his restless vigil. No longer could he sit; instead he found himself pacing the exterior of the squat stone building, alert for signs of danger.
Nothing disturbed the peace of the abandoned farm. He saw no wildlife, not even a sparrow. Though he found this odd, he was grateful, as magic could take many forms. Still, he had lived long enough to trusts his instincts, and every nerve ending screamed silently that he'd better beware.
Only when the sun's amber orb dipped below the darkening horizon and the crickets began to chirp again, only then did he allow himself to relax. With dusk, he ventured inside the shadowy confines of the farmhouse.
His purpose was simple, yet so profound that his mind skittered away from the implications of it.
He wanted to be at Deirdre's side when she awoke
.
From one room to another he went, finding each successively empty. The third room, one that had been added to the back of the farmhouse at a later date, had a tattered curtain hanging in the entrance. This makeshift door separated this room from the others, as well as keeping any light from penetrating its murky depth, which lay a few feet below the rest of the house.
This place then, must be the room where Deirdre and Ula slept.
The back of his neck, only tingling before, began to prickle.
Taking a deep breath, Egann pushed aside the torn blanket with a rising sense of urgency and went in. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. He could make out the shape of a crude straw mattress, saw too the dark cloak that perhaps had covered them while they slept.
But that was all. No sign remained of the two Shadow Dancers. `Twas as if they'd disappeared into thin air.
For a moment he could not breathe. He could hear the loud thump of his heart, the blood roaring in his ears. His vision blurred as rage filled him, rage and an awful, certain fear.
They were gone. But how?
Chest tight, Egann searched the closed room, shoving against the walls with his hands, seeking a hidden doorway, a window, even some sort of storage room, large enough to hide two women.
He found nothing. Then how had they gone? They had not vanished by normal means. He himself had not left his post, not even once had he relaxed his vigilance beside the only door to the cottage.
Robbed
. He slammed his fist against the wood that framed the doorway, feeling it splinter beneath his knuckles, welcoming the pain. Once again, some elusive thief had stolen something precious from him. Once more, he had failed.
Magic? It had to be, though he had not sensed the tell-tale ripple in the air that always before had warned him of its presence.
The fact remained – Deirdre and Ula were missing. If the Maccus had taken them, their lives were in grave danger.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Awakening from a sound slumber, Deirdre sensed immediately the
wrongness
in the air. She rubbed her eyes and looked around, her head beginning to ache. The straw mattress in the cramped little room had vanished, the abandoned farmhouse as well. The place she now awoke in was dark, as it should be. But, scrabbling to her feet, she realized she stood on rough rock that had a slippery feel, and around her she saw naught but stone walls. Indeed, it appeared that she'd been transported by ethereal means, to a dank place that had no sky.
She could see little, except the distant glow of a fire. The air smelled of sulpher and smoke, stale air, stirred by no breeze. Once when she had been only a small girl, a Christian friar had traveled to her village and told vivid stories of demons and their home. This place reminded her of that; deep within the bowels of the earth, in the pits of the Christian Hell they seemed to be.
"Take my hand," Ula appeared before her and commanded, her voice no longer sounding quite so weak, nor so old.
Deirdre did not move. Instead, she regarded the older woman thoughtfully, tamping down her anger. This could wait, at least until she had some answers.
"Where are we?"
The other shadow dancer gave a mocking laugh. "In a place where neither the moon or the sun, nor the whims of others can affect us. Come with me and I will show you a place the likes of which you could only have dreamed.
"No." Keeping her voice flat and unemotional, Deirdre stood her ground. "I want to go back to the farmhouse. Egann will be looking for us there."
"The Prince of Fae?" Ula's expression soured. "What do you want with him? He is the opposite of all our kind."
"I value him, as he does me."
"You delude yourself, child." The older woman spun in slow circle, her silver hair fanning behind her. "His kind belong to the light and the sun. Once he finds that which he seeks, you will never see him again."
"You cannot know this."
"Ah, you need to think on it, young one. What would one such as he want with a woman like you, beautiful or no? You are mortal and can only move about in the darkness, while he must have the bright light of day to survive."
That Egann had promised to remove the curse, Deirdre dared not say. The hope of a cure, however remote, would be far too cruel of a thing to dangle without reason.
"Let me go back," she stubbornly said.
The other woman's smile turned sly. Eyes glowing in the dim light, she moved closer. "Do you wish to help this Egann of yours?"
Deirdre stiffened, but held her tongue.
"I know where the talisman is hidden." Ula held out a hand, her voice wheedling. "Come with me and I will show it to you. How wonderful would be your welcome, were you to return to your Egann with the amulet he seeks?"
Though she knew giving in might be foolish, such a powerful lure she could not resist. Ignoring the other woman's outstretched hand, Deirdre inclined her head briefly.
"I will go with you then," she said, letting some of the icy contempt she felt show in her tone. "Goddess help you if you have spoken falsely…" she let her threat trail off. She did not trust this woman, even if Ula was of her own kind. But if there were even a chance, however slight, that Deirdre could help Egann in his quest for the amulet, she would have to take it.
"Take my hand. We cannot go down the path unless together."
Deirdre did as the older woman asked, noticing immediately that the hand she took was not knarled and coarse now, but soft and smooth, the hand of a much younger woman.
Magic
.
If the light were better, she would have liked to see what the silver haired woman looked like now.
"Was it you who did brought us here?" Low voiced, Deirdre squinted into the all-encompassing darkness, trying to make out the features of the landscape they passed. She might need to remember the way if escape were necessary. Unfortunately, lit by flickering torches, all she saw were dark stone walls, rough with the passage of time and wet from some unknown source.
"Nay, not I." With a tug on Deirdre's hand, Ula pulled her forward, moving in the darkness as if by memory. "You know as well as I do that our kind does not have that kind of magic."
"If not you, then who?"
The other woman ignored her and simply increased her pace.
Deirdre dug in her heels, trying futilely to yank her hand free of the Ula's surprisingly strong grip. When she finally succeeded, stumbling backward, she folded her arms across her chest. "I would have answers, first."
"And you will get them." Frustration sounded in the older woman's tone. "But you must come with me to get them."
"No. I will not follow you blindly."
"Even if doing so means you will get the amulet?"
Ah, again the lure, again the tone of utter insincerity. Still, she could not help but think of Egann and how pleased he would be if she were able to retrieve the talisman.
"How can I be certain that the amulet is even here?"
Ula spread her hands, palm up. "How else do you think we were brought here? `Twas only with the power of this talisman to aid him that gave him strength to work such a spell."
"Him?"
"He who wears the amulet."
"Who is he?"
Her question brought only silence, while the older dancer smiled, an expression of utter serenity on her pale face.
"I have given you my real name, and the truth of what I am. You and I are the same, Shadow Dancer. Have you spent much time with others of our kind?"
Reluctantly, Deirdre shook her head. "You are the only other I have met."
"Many of us have assembled here, to follow one who would unite our people."
Deirdre narrowed her eyes. "Who is this man?"
"No man, nor even mortal. He who wears the amulet awaits us. Come with me to meet him and see for yourself."
Now she began to see. "He would be king?"
"Enough of this." Fingers like claws, Ula grabbed Deirdre's arm. "Come with me now and meet him. You will have your answers soon enough."
Truly curious, this time Deirdre went, allowing the other woman to lead at a brisk pace.
It appeared they walked along a stone path, for that which sounded beneath her feet had the feel of the cliff ledges of her former home. After a moment, they rounded a corner and Deirdre could see that they indeed walked along a mountainous pass of some sort. Steep walls of smooth stone rose on either side. Below lay utter blackness, a deep pit. Ahead the ginger glow from the fires grew brighter, the air grew heavier with smoke.
Fire. Always would the leaping flames remind her of the Maccus, as they served their red and angry god.
She tamped down her rising panic. Ula had mentioned other Shadow Dancers. Surely no Maccus would have been allowed to infiltrate their home.
The dancing fires brought more light. Now she could better see. The woman who pulled her along looked both the same and yet different than the elderly Shadow Dancer Egann had rescued. Her hair was still the color of milk, startling in this dim light because it seemed to glow. Many lines remained and deepened the skin around her mouth and eyes, proud symbols of her advanced age.
`Twas in the way she carried herself that had changed. Where once she had walked with stooped shoulders and bowed back, she now moved with her head held high and her shoulders straight. Her stride no longer seemed little more than a painful shuffle; rather she walked with the determined gait of a much younger woman. A woman with a purpose.