Shadows of the Keeper Read Free

now Broc’s
nightmare. Aurelia was left with no recourse but to face honoring her long ago
oath sworn to Xyn.  The Elder’s power was to never fall into Shadow’s
possession.
    “Power granted
long ago, I beg release from evil foe.  Slay by hand or bleed by rage,
take me now to my eternal grave.”
    No tears
fell.  There remained nothing of her life to mourn.  Elvin sword
slipped from limp fingers.  Breath rasped, her immortal spirit slipping
into the mortal sphere of pain and death.  Suddenly, wounds in her back
seared.  The pain brought her to her knees.
    How do the
wounded handle such agony ?  She felt power diminishing from her as if her
tunic slipped from her shoulders.
    A Lumynari’s
erratic behavior distracted her.  He shoved potential victims from his
path and stormed across slain bodies, his eyes fixated.
      A
Shadow Master foregoing maiming and slaying ?  Aurelia followed his
glare and gasped, hollering out when arrows in her back shifted.  She
shook her head, forcing down unconsciousness.
    Have to . .
. help . . . Maeve .
    Shadow Master
fast descended.  The old woman cradled Aedan’s head, her other hand
blindly clutching the bloodied tunic of his mortal foster-father.  Fey
powers would not help her husband this day, nor see her through the enemy
fervently bearing down on them.  Staggering to her feet, Aurelia grimaced
with pain.  There existed only one fear to the deadly Lumynari.  The
Fey.  Killing one would be a coup long prized by the Shadow Master. 
Wounded, grieving the death of her husband while begging for powers-that-be to
save her only son, Maeve was too anguished to shield herself.
    Fury galvanized
Aurelia.
    Maeve had been
one of the few offering kindness in this harsh world of Broc’s forest. 
Reclaiming the hilt of her discarded sword, Aurelia stumbled and called upon
weakening magic for strength; for reprieve against searing pain every labored
breath knifed through her.  Ancient power forced her numb legs forward,
but it was not enough to fully wield her sword in time.
    The merciless
warrior skewered Aurelia’s abdomen in place of the auld woman’s skull. 
The Lumynari’s laughter abruptly curdled as a blade forged by the High Elves
plunged into his throat—Aurelia’s final crusade.  His body dropped, eyes
bulging.
    Her life’s
blood rivered downward, saturating her beautiful white leggings, quenching the
thirsty, churned snow.  Collapsing, she found herself staring into cold
black eyes piercing her from afar.  Na’Dryn’s lifeless body lay
heaped.  And over the still-warm-corpse, Broc himself, sliding his sword
from a very dead Lumynari.
    Talons raked
Aurelia’s skull, yanking her upward until her booted toes skimmed the bloody
snow.  And from across the way, Broc’s contemptuous smirk stung more
profoundly than she thought possible.  Hissing snakes made her wince and
cower.  It was a guttural voice, not venomous creatures.
    “At last I find
you!”  Viciously, Aurelia was spun to face her nemesis.  The depraved
face thrust closer.  “Remember me?”
    “Aunsgar’s
traitorous . . . twin.”
    Another violent
shake.  “My name!”
    “I will not . .
. empower you.”  Aurelia tried averting her face, stench of Ardra’s
evilness nearly making her gag as the witch bragged and threatened.
    “My goddess
Shadow will be elated when I gift her with the much sought after Keeper. 
Worshipped, my own temple will be erected, my power enhanced—“
    “She is not
yours to offer,” a cold deep voice resonated from behind.
    Aurelia’s
throat closed.  If a thousand winters passed, she would never forget the
rich timbre of that male voice.  It haunted her dreams and echoed in her
mind throughout the day.  Ardra’s bravado faltered.  Aurelia noted
the witch’s eyes glazing before arrogance quickly returned.
    Ardra shook
Aurelia’s head as if freeing a quilt of nettles.  “She belongs to me!”
    The exiled
princess screamed, pain searing her back, the