The Shadows Read online

  If Garran died without a trained replacement—

  The Orb of Aithne. As long as the new king had the orb and was trained in its use…

  “And what might the saving grace be?” He cleared his nearly closed-off throat. “Should I use the gift all three times.”

  Another sigh of a breeze ruffled tree leaves and the hem of the Guardian’s long gown. “This knowledge could prevent you from attaining it if you know in advance.”

  For a long moment Garran weighed his decision. Always he based his choices on what benefited the Drow. When he had at one time sided with Darkwolf, he had done so because of the very same promise—only through Darkwolf, Balor had promised the full light of day with no conditions.

  Garran studied the Great Guardian as he considered his decision. She waited, patient and unmoving.

  To sacrifice his own life—was that act in the best interest of the Dark Elves?

  And for his daughter and her people?

  Yes.

  Finally he spoke, and when he did his words and tone rang with authority. “I accept.”

  The Guardian did not acknowledge him with a word or a movement. Instead, her glow expanded into a sudden brilliant flash that encompassed him.

  He ground his teeth as such incredible power flooded him that pain shot to his very soul. Every muscle in his body tightened and he felt as if his bones might snap, one by one.

  He bore the pain without a sound. Confidence in his decision gave him strength and he combined that strength with the magic filling him.

  When the bright light finally faded, until only the Great Guardian wore a silver glow, sweat coated Garran’s body and his muscles ached. His eyes were so dry they felt gritty when he blinked.

  “You alone, King Garran, now have the ability to walk in the sunlight,” she said quietly. “At all times of the day.”

  Shock coursed through him at the unexpected divulgement. To again feel full sunlight on his face? The thought caused a different kind of warmth to flow through him as he imagined such a blessing placed upon him.

  But what of his people? What right did he have to such a gift if his people were not awarded the same?

  “Once you have used the powerful endowment I have given you, should you survive, you shall again return to live amongst your people as one of the Dark Elves,” she added. “You will then only be able to enjoy the light in the early morning and early evening. Your senses will tell you and your people when it is time to return to the Drow realm.”

  Garran had no words of his own as the Great Guardian’s avowal settled on him like a cloak.

  The Guardian continued, “You must always keep the D’Anu witch, Hannah, at your side. Do not think to separate yourself from her. The magical bond you create when you and she work as one will award you each with more power.”

  Strange that Hannah was the one who answered his demand that one of the companions remain in the Drow realm as part of his own condition. Apparently it had been the Guardian’s magic already at work.

  But to keep her with him at all times?

  He clenched his sword hilt. “I would not put the witch in danger.”

  The Guardian’s expression remained firm. “As I said, you must keep her by your side if you wish to turn the tide of this war.”

  A long moment passed before Garran could answer. “Thank you, my lady.” He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “We will aid the D’Anu, D’Danann, and humans in their battles against the Underworld evils inhabiting their world.”

  “Prepare at once.” The great Elvin woman spread her hands out, palms up. “Once you have informed the D’Anu and D’Danann of your decision, it shall be time to travel to the San Francisco Otherworld.”

  Still stunned by all of the Guardian’s revelations, Garran bowed from his shoulders.

  “One more thing you must heed.”

  Garran sucked in his breath as his eyes met hers. Not another godsdamn condition.

  Her sapphire eyes darkened. “You must tell no one beforehand of your ability to transfer the Fomorii to Underworld.”

  Garran let the thought roll through his mind. Hers was not an unreasonable request. As a leader himself, he well understood the jealousies and conflicts that could arise if people perceived their ruler to be playing favorites.

  He inclined his head again. “Yes, my lady.”

  She smiled and it was as if the stars shone from the sky above to light her features. “I wish you well.”

  Garran watched as the Great Guardian turned away, crossed the small bridge, and vanished.

  The ramifications of what he’d just agreed to hit him like the slam of a troll’s club against his chest. He would need to ensure Vidar would be a good and just ruler in Garran’s stead.

  With Garran having no time to do it.

  After the deaths of his brother, Naal, and his Second and Third in Command during the opening of the door to Underworld, Garran had made Vidar his First in Command.

  Weeks ago, Garran had begun to groom Vidar to take his place should anything happen to him. He respected the sharp-witted, sharp-tongued warrior, but his gut told him that Vidar was not prepared to take on such a great responsibility for any length of time. Not yet.

  Godsdamn, but he should have spent more time with Vidar’s training, no matter that it had been just weeks.

  Garran stood at the center of the transference stone, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. It had been so long since the Elders had changed his skin tone and hair. He almost did not remember what he looked like before he and his people had been banished.

  What would it be like to walk in daylight again? To feel the sun’s yellow heat on his skin?

  A twist in his gut followed vivid images of himself and his people as they once were. Longing flowed through him, and he was not entirely sure why. They had made good lives for themselves belowground and had existed in their realm for centuries.

  Had he made the right decision? Was it enough for his people to enjoy what sunlight they could before being sent belowground again?

  No time for such thoughts as those. Garran shook his head. He had work to accomplish before he delivered his decision to his daughter and her companions.

  He closed his eyes and visualized the meadow over the Drow realm and his body shimmered and vanished from the transference stone.

  After traveling through the dark void, he returned—it took but a few moments to appear a step away from the door above his home. He opened his eyes and paused to study the dark place he had not seen bathed in sunlight for centuries.

  The gifts the Great Guardian had given him—was he doing the right thing?

  Yes. He had made the right decision. He would be able to not only help his people, but his daughter and her people as well. The thought warmed his chest and he smiled.

  After he made his way down the stone stairs to the great hall, Garran ordered one of his guards to summon Vidar. The warrior was to return from the training cavern where he worked with their army, to meet with Garran in the throne/strategy chamber.

  Garran settled himself on his throne, rested one elbow on an armrest and stroked his chin.

  Once he discussed his plans with his Directorate and those in his command, he would go to the D’Danann village.

  When he traveled to the San Francisco Otherworld, he would meet with the D’Danann and D’Anu to discuss tactics.

  Without telling the witches or warriors of his ability, he had to find a way to get the Fomorii gathered in one place at the same time. He would transfer them all at once and not use the power thrice. Certainly, he would determine how to accomplish this and not leave his people without an experienced leader.

  Vidar strode into the throne room and bowed. Garran acknowledged his First in Command with a slight nod, then pushed himself off his throne and stepped down from the dais and faced Vidar.

  The warrior had black hair and blacker eyes, and his skin was slightly bluer in hue than Garran’s. Physically, Vidar’s strength
nearly matched Garran’s, but not his magic. Vidar also did not have the powerful yet diplomatic presence a ruler of the Drow needed. At times Vidar was easy to anger and that anger could disrupt his magic.

  “I will be leaving soon.” Garran studied Vidar’s expression. “While I am gone you will serve as Steward in my place.”

  Vidar’s dark eyes narrowed as he met Garran’s. “May I ask, my king, where you are going and how long you will be away?”

  “It is an acceptable question.” Garran turned from Vidar, his hands behind his back as he eyed the obsidian door. “To the San Francisco Otherworld to aid in the battle against Ceithlenn and the Fomorii.”

  “Your Highness.” Vidar’s tone held a hard edge to it. “You cannot put yourself in harm’s way. I will lead the army and do as you bid.”

  Vidar insisting he should lead the army in Garran’s stead was an excellent quality in a First in Command. Garran expected no less.

  Still, Garran faced Vidar again and stated, “I go alone. No questions. No answers will be given.”

  Vidar raised his chin. “My king, we cannot afford the chance that you might lose your life. As your First, I insist.”

  Garran held up his hand, halting Vidar’s speech. Despite his approval of Vidar’s desire to protect his king, Garran did not have time to waste on futile arguments.

  “As I said, you will serve as Steward.” Finality rang in Garran’s tone.

  Vidar set his jaw but he bowed in acknowledgment before meeting Garran’s gaze again. “I will gather the Directorate so that we might make arrangements.”

  Vidar’s expression was harder than Garran believed it should have been when one was speaking to his king. “They will not approve.”

  “Your place is to do as I command.” Garran tightened his jaw. “As you well know, I need no approval. I am king and my word is law. But yes, summon the Directorate.”

  “It will be done, my king.” The harsh look on Vidar’s features did not lessen, but he bowed from the shoulders once again before rising, turning away, and striding out the door.

  Garran narrowed his gaze as he watched Vidar retreat. When he had the opportunity to work with his First alone, Garran would discuss Vidar’s impertinence. That was unacceptable.

  For the sake of the guards standing inside the doorway, Garran did not let his frustration show. He kept his head high, his hands behind his back, as he waited for the Directorate to convene at the strategy table.

  As he paced, his thoughts churned over what he must do before he left Otherworld. Vidar’s training. Ensuring the preparation of his warriors for battle.

  One by one, the wisest and eldest of the Dark Elves entered the chamber. As was true of all Elves, whether dark or light, each man looked to be the same age as Garran despite being centuries or many millennia older. As usual, the members of the Directorate wore simple black tunics, breeches, and boots.

  When they were all assembled and seated, including Vidar, Garran remained standing. He moved his gaze from one Directorate member to the next, meeting each man’s eyes.

  “Shortly, after I have visited the D’Danann village, I will travel to the San Francisco Otherworld.” Garran kept his expression firm, hard. “Alone.”

  The reactions to his announcement were immediate—stunned expressions to a one.

  But before anyone could respond, Garran continued, “I cannot give you my reasons—not yet. I will join the D’Anu and D’Danann in their battle against Ceithlenn.”

  Garran raised his voice over the angry words that began to spill from the Directorate members’ lips. “Vidar shall serve as Steward in my absence, and Carden will be his First in Command. Carden will assemble an army prepared to go to war against Ceithlenn and the Fomorii when I give the order.”

  Sepan, the second in line to be Head of the Order of the Directorates stood, his chair rumbling over the granite floor as he pushed it back. His gray eyes flashed and his silver hair glinted in the light refracting from the chamber’s crystal walls and ceiling.

  Sepan banged his fist on the table. “We cannot allow this. It is wrong, as wrong as when you endangered yourself fighting the demons when the door to Underworld was opened. Even then you had an army at your back. To go alone to this San Francisco Otherworld is preposterous.”

  “You forget yourself.” Garran’s temper rose, heating him as he met Sepan’s unflinching gaze. “I am king. I have made a choice for the good of my people and I will not waver from that decision.”

  “What choice is that?” Hark, the Head of the Order, maintained his placid expression where Sepan’s was filled with fury.

  “I cannot tell you at this time.” Garran looked from one member of the Directorate to another. “This is how it will be. Again, as I have said, Vidar shall serve as Steward while I am gone.”

  His gaze rested on Vidar. “And if my life should end, Vidar will no longer be Steward. He shall become king of the Dark Elves.”

  Shock registered on every man’s face, including Vidar’s, who said, “I must refuse this—this—”

  “Command.” Garran folded his arms across his chest. “I will again remind you, Vidar, that as your king my word is law. You will be a just and honorable king should I die.”

  The silence in the room was so deafening that Garran’s ears rang. He faced his Directorates. Most members of the Directorate managed to school their expressions.

  Sepan was not one of those. He broke the silence, his gray eyes dark with undisguised fury. He bent where he stood and placed his palms on the table. “You have made this decision without our counsel.”

  “I find your disrespectfulness intolerable.” Garran steeled his own gaze. “I am king. It is best you remember this.” He looked at Vidar, who now had a shrewd gleam in his eyes that made Garran pause.

  He didn’t have time to second-guess himself, but he intended to have a stern and frank talk with Vidar before he left for the San Francisco Otherworld.

  “Have Carden prepare the army,” Garran continued. “I will give word when it is time for battle.”

  “Yes, my king,” Vidar said, this time without as much heat in his voice.

  After looking to the members of the Directorate and holding each member’s gaze for a firm moment, Garran said, “I must rest as I have much to attend to before I leave.”

  His mind already churning over what needed to be accomplished prior to his departure, Garran turned and strode out the door.

  7

  Hannah woke to the feeling that someone was watching her. For a moment she lay still and kept her eyes shut and her breathing steady. The drum of the waterfall was all she heard, but a presence nearby caused her to shiver.

  “You are awake,” came a man’s smooth, rich voice. “It is time for us to go.” With a laugh, he added, “Unless you prefer I join you in bed?”

  Garran.

  She opened her eyes to see him standing over her, his usual teasing smile on his face.

  “In your dreams.” Hannah pushed herself to a sitting position on the bed.

  She’d lain down moments after Garran had left her. The bed was so comfortable it had drawn her into sleep as soon as she settled on the mattress and she felt as if she’d slept forever.

  “Go where?” she added, holding back a yawn.

  He extended his hand. “To see my daughter and her people—your people.”

  Rumpled, irritated, and in need of a bath, Hannah ignored his hand. Even though she’d been tired, she hated that she’d fallen asleep in her clothing. Ugh.

  It didn’t matter to her the warrior gear was Fae made and all she had to do was think the Fae word for “clean” and it would be as good as new again. She preferred to sleep in something soft and silky and bathe first thing in the morning.

  She sighed. Soft and silky was what she wanted. Otherworld sorely lacked a Victoria’s Secret.

  Goddess, what she would give to be in her own bed and take a shower in her own bathroom. Then perhaps, putting on a Chloe blouse and her Jean-Pau
l Gaultier pinstriped jacket and slacks.

  “Well?” Garran’s lips were still quirked into a smile. “Must I carry you out of your chamber so that we might make our way to the village?”

  She glared at him before she cast a glance to the corner where the waterfall tumbled from a rock shelf into a pool. Two fat pottery containers sat on a flat stone to the side, probably some kind of bathing gel. The slight tang of sulfur hung in the room and she assumed the water was from an underground hot spring.

  Thank the Ancestors.

  Hannah pushed the covers aside and was just about to climb out of bed when it occurred to her. She met Garran’s gaze. “You didn’t tell me what your decision is.”

  “You didn’t ask.” His expression grew serious. “But yes, my people will join yours in the battle against Ceithlenn and the Fomorii.”

  Relief swept through Hannah. “Thank the goddess.”

  “Now we go to your people,” he said.

  “Before I go anywhere”—she swung her legs over the side of the bed—“I’m taking a shower.”

  His teasing smile returned. “Would you like—”

  “No.” Hannah got to her feet and ignored his sexy grin. “I don’t need your help. I need you to get out of the room, let me take my shower, and then we can go.”

  “As you wish.” Garran winked before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

  Hannah rolled her eyes. Goddess help me. Why did I agree to be his liaison?

  She had no blessed clue.

  Okay, she did.

  If she had left it up to Eavan, they might be going to war, all right. But it would be the Dark Elves against the D’Danann and D’Anu instead of Ceithlenn and the Fomorii.

  With a shake of her head, Hannah started stripping out of her clothing, really looking forward to that shower.

  Garran waited beside Hannah’s doorway, his back against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

  Still smiling from enjoyment at teasing Hannah’s prickly outer shell, he shook his head. His senses told him there was far more to Hannah Wentworth than she wanted anyone to see.

  His skin felt drawn tight over his muscles as he turned his thoughts to traveling to the D’Danann village. Elves going into the thick of the Fae warriors was not done.