Moon Shadows (20 page)

“T
HE
prisoners, your Powerfulness!” The troop leader thrust Gwynna into the enchantress's private chamber. His second-in-command shoved Keir after her.

“On your knees,” Ondrea commanded, her eyes locking with Gwynna's.

Taut as a bowspring, Keir studied the tall woman standing before them, an icy smile curving her lips.

So this was Ondrea, the sorceress who had tricked and betrayed his brother—and who had brought death to his entire family.

Her beauty was staggering. Flame colored curls haloed a haughty, perfectly chiselled face. Her features were strong, yet delicate, the nose upturned just a bit, the eyes long, wide-set, their color a brilliant dazzling topaz.

Her body was tall, statuesque, that of a goddess, and the gown of shimmering silver she wore had golden circles embroidered across the skirt. Her gold necklace and armband shone with power and fire.

Yet her perfection was as chilling as the cruelty in those
brilliant eyes, and she carried herself with a haughtiness that reeked of self-importance.

He ought to have felt hatred toward her—for she had planned the demise of his kin—but instead he felt revulsion and fear, not for himself, but for the woman at his side, the loveliest and bravest woman he'd ever known.

The sight of Gwynna, her face pale, framed by disheveled dark curls, her hands bound, her magic stoppered, leaving her helpless, filled him with desperation and a terrible dread. Vengeance no longer mattered. Only Gwynna filled his mind.

No one must lay a hand on her
, Keir thought, as he assessed the gaunt man with pale hair and narrow shoulders seated on the couch with Ondrea. The guards were still behind them with their spears and swords.

He had to find a way to get Gwynna out of here alive.

“On your knees,” Ondrea repeated, rising from the couch. She stepped forward then and those magnificent eyes changed color, from topaz to purple—a deep, flashing, ominous purple.

Keir's stomach knotted as Gwynna knelt. He chafed at his bonds in frustration, enraged that she was forced to kneel before this murdering witch. Then two of the soldiers grabbed him and forced him to his knees. He grunted as one jabbed him in the side with a fist and the other yanked his head back by the hair.

“Obey the Queen Sorceress when she gives you an order,” the soldier barked.

“Kill me if you will.” Keir spoke through clenched teeth. “I'd rather die than obey this hag.”

The soldier struck him with the hilt of his sword and Keir fell forward. He was then dragged back to his knees. But even the soldier who'd struck him stepped back a pace at the expression of fury upon Ondrea's face.

“So. This is the gratitude I get for letting you crawl out of Org on your belly?” Her tone was silky and cool as new frost. “You”—she shot a glance at the troop—“may all leave. I'll summon you when it's time to collect the pieces of this scum after King Leopold and I are done with him.”

Leopold
.
At last, a stroke of luck
, Keir thought, his gaze fastening upon the warlock's smug face. From his knees, Keir
stared at the creature who'd destroyed his family. The Cruvian had a weak chin and a cruel mouth. Atop his velvet-trimmed purple tunic, he wore a heavy gold brooch in the shape of a dragon.

And on his finger glinted the emerald ring Keir had last seen upon his own father's hand.

“This day is fortunate for me,” Keir said softly. “But not for you. You die today.”

Leopold tossed back his head and laughed.

Through this all, Gwynna had remained silent. Keir glanced at her to see if she was afraid. No, she appeared calm and intent.

But she wasn't intent upon her enemy—she was gazing fixedly at the rat crouched beside Ondrea's slippered feet.

Its whiskers twitched as Gwynna continued to stare at it and Keir suddenly remembered her affinity with all wild creatures.

She was communicating with this rat!

And that's why she knelt,
he realized. Suddenly, he began to speak again, knowing it was crucial to keep Ondrea's attention focused upon himself.

“You killed my family, hag,” he said loudly. “You and this cowardly, swaggering creature murdered them. Did you think I wouldn't return and take my revenge?”

“I thought you'd have sense enough to keep your sniveling self away from me and my domain.” Ondrea shrugged, and a tiny smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Apparently you seek death, so I'll happily grant you your heart's desire. This time you won't get out of Org alive.”

“Or in one piece,” Leopold added in a silken tone, flashing Keir a maliciously crooked smile.

Keir had seen the rat scoot across the room, and now realized it had disappeared from sight.

What does Gwynna have in mind?
he wondered, then suddenly felt something brush against his hands which were bound behind his back.

He felt a small tug—and then he knew.

Hope surged through him. The rat was gnawing at his bonds.

“I am Gwynna of Callemore,” Gwynna spoke up composedly. She ignored Leopold and gazed directly into the sorceress's eyes. “I am here to take back everything you stole from my sister.”

Her words had the desired effect. They shifted Ondrea and Leopold's attention away from Keir. Both now eyed Gwynna with keen interest.

It was Ondrea who spoke with a sneer. “I know who you are, Moon Witch. Do you think you need to tell me something so simple? Your silly powers didn't even awaken you when my servants invaded your castle by the light of your moon and took what I wanted from your sister. You are pathetic. Feeble. And powerless before me. You cannot take back what I stole—it is now mine for a hundred years. You'd need to destroy me in order to get it back and that is no more likely than the moon ever shining in Org.”

Ondrea tilted her head to one side and tapped a finger against her cheek. “And for your affrontery in daring to enter my kingdom, you will now pay the price.”

“It is you who must pay a price.” Gwynna's eyes burned into Ondrea's, which changed from purple to angry storm-blue as Gwynna spoke. “You stole from my sister what you lack. Beauty. Life. Spirit. You are hundreds of years old, an ancient shriveled crone. And it's time you were stripped of all that is not yours and sent to a resting place as dark and deep and cold as you are.”

Even as she spoke the words, Gwynna felt the rat's feet resting on her wrist and knew that he was gnawing at her bonds. The poor creature had told her he was kept by Ondrea as a pet, but even he, a lowly rat, was revulsed by the evil rampant in the fortress. He had a family of his own, a family to return to—if ever he was released. And Gwynna had promised him that release in exchange for his help.

By now, Keir's bonds were severed, and in a moment hers would be, too. Her heart pounded with tension. Everything depended on what she did in the next few moments. Lise's life. Keir's life. And hers.

She braced herself as Ondrea's face darkened with anger
and the sorceress's hands clenched. Then Leopold touched a hand to Ondrea's arm, and murmured, “Perhaps our guest is thirsty? I'm sure she would enjoy a cupful of what brews on the cauldron.”

Ondrea laughed then, sly pleasure replacing the anger on her face. “Why not? She has survived a long and arduous journey. We must be hospitable after all.”

The warlock crooked a finger at the enormous cauldron bubbling over the fire. It lifted from its hook and drifted through the air, making its way toward him.

“Isn't that just like a warlock?” Keir managed a caustically mocking laugh, though fear for Gwynna punched through him. “I should have known you wouldn't fight like a real man.”

Leopold held up a hand and the cauldron paused in midair. The warlock advanced on Keir.

“You talk too much, human. Your words vex me. I don't need magic to quell the likes of you,” he growled and grabbed Keir by the hair, dragging him to his feet. As he pulled back an arm to strike the captured man, Keir suddenly whipped his arms from behind him and seized the warlock by the throat.

“You're now done with words, warlock. And with spells. Forever.”

It all happened so quickly Leopold didn't have time to mutter a spell or a curse. His hands latched onto Keir's bulging arms and tried to break the grip on his throat, but Keir was far stronger, and his fingers bit like spikes into the Cruvian king's flesh.

Ondrea lifted an arm, anger sputtering on her lips, but even as she tried to get the words out, Gwynna sprang at her, shoving her backwards onto the couch.

Gwynna whipped the half-moon talisman from her pocket and held it aloft before the sorceress could move or speak.

At the sight of it, Ondrea's now black eyes widened, fear crossing her face.

“By the magic of all the Sisters of the Moon and Seekers of the Good, I command you to freeze!” Gwynna cried.

But to her dismay, her words had no effect. Instead Ondrea
rose, swift and dangerous as a snake. “Your magic has no power here. Give that trifle to me.”

“This is no trifle and it does not belong to you, Evil One. It belongs to those who have pledged their lives to good.”

“
Wexyll-domsor-parsnopurm
!” Ondrea shouted, stretching forth her hand commandingly, but the half-moon stayed securely within Gwynna's grasp. It tingled with power and Gwynna thought frantically what to do next.

The talisman didn't work upon Ondrea—and Gwynna's own magic was still useless. But the talisman hadn't responded to Ondrea's command. So it must have another purpose, another power all its own.
What could it be
? she wondered, her mind racing.
What must I do?

She glanced over in time to see Keir release Leopold. The warlock sank to the ground, his face purple and still, his eyes staring blankly, and Keir wasted no time dragging the emerald ring from his finger and sliding it onto his own hand.

At the same instant, the cauldron thudded to the floor, released from its spell.

“Look out!” Keir shouted and she whirled back to see Ondrea advancing upon her, trying to snatch the talisman away.

But Gwynna jumped back out of reach and raced across the room to a round serving table, putting it between her and the sorceress.

“You will not touch this. It's going to destroy you!” she warned. “And then all that you stole will be returned to my sister!”

“That trinket cannot destroy me. Nothing made by those dedicated to good can destroy me. But I'll have it just the same. And then I'll have your head on a platter and let the rats and the vampires feast on it!” Ondrea screamed.

She spun toward Keir as he advanced on her and made a swift pattern with her fingers in the air. Keir stopped dead, clutching his throat. He began to gasp and choke, his skin darkening as Leopold's had.

“Keir! No!” But as she watched in horror he crashed to the floor, writhing and twitching upon the black and gold carpet—strangling to death before her eyes.

“Give it to me and I'll release him,” Ondrea said as Gwynna rushed to him, kneeling at his side in anguish. She summoned her most powerful spell-breaking charm and muttered it rapidly, but it had no effect.

The agony upon his face ripped her heart out. Somehow he managed to gasp out several words. “Don't . . . give it . . . to her. . . .”

“Stop—stop!” Gwynna cried. “Release him and I'll consider!”

“Give it to me and then I'll release him.” Ondrea's eyes shone triumphantly as she noted the grief in Gwynna's face, the need to save this man at any cost.

Suddenly the rat sprang onto Gwynna's shoulder as she knelt beside Keir.

Its whiskers twitched as it spoke to her, telling her the secret, telling her what she must do.

“Silence,
rat
!” Ondrea screeched. “Is this the thanks I get for keeping you? What are you doing?” she cried as Gwynna suddenly raced to the balcony doors, the rat leaping from her shoulder to scurry under the table.

“Don't—don't!” Ondrea's shout rang through the chamber as Gwynna flung the doors wide and burst onto the balcony high above the gray desolation of Org.

Even as Ondrea dashed out the doors after her, Gwynna drew back her arm and hurled the talisman high into the night as hard and as high as she could. Her heart filled her throat as she wondered if it would be high enough, powerful enough to do what must be done.

But the talisman took on a power of its own as it soared up. Like a comet it streaked, higher and higher, a brilliant glimmer, until suddenly it burst through, tearing a black hole in the thick gray sky, ripping it asunder.

As the black hole grew and grew, the grayness unraveled in tatters.

Ondrea screamed behind her, but Gwynna couldn't tear her gaze from the spectacular sight of the grayness dissipating and darkness filling the sky. Darkness and something else . . . the rich pearly glow of the moon.

The moon shone upon her face, her midnight hair. It shone
upon the desolation of Org and sent slender silver beams of light dancing across the sad and empty land, glittering like fairy dust.