The Emerald Dagger

  Daradawn Series

  Book Two

  The Emerald Dagger

  by

  Barbara M Hodges

  187 Alyssum Circle

  Nipomo, CA 93444

  ISBN-13:

  978-1545273425

  ISBN-10:

  1545273421

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher, Coastal Dunes Publishing.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons, living or dead, are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  Dedication

  When an author is writing a book, it seems as if they are alone in the world and no one can help them in their toil. When that masterpiece is finished and they lift their head, they realize that in truth scores of people have been involved in that creation. The Emerald Dagger is dedicated to all of those in my life who've made it possible.

  My mom, Jean Stites, who planted the love of words and stories in my head at an early age.

  For Jeff, my husband, who puts up with so much when I am in a writing frenzy.

  The Santa Maria, California Word Wizards, my local writers group, you help keep me sane. And the score of others who have supported me throughout the years, you are all so appreciated. Thank you.

  Barbara M Hodges

  Books by Barbara M. Hodges

  The Blue Flame

  The Emerald Dagger

  The Silver Angel;

  Return of the Ancients

  Aftermath

  In Jeopardy

  Shadow Worlds with Darrell Bain

  Ice with Randolph Tower

  One Last Sin with Randolph Tower

  A Spiral of Echoes with Maggie Pucillo

  A Forever home for Gracie-Lou with Cathleen Thompson

  Jack-the-Cat and Tanya-the-Toad with Maggie Puccillo

  Prologue

  A man stepped from the shadows and into the moon-dappled glade. His gaze found the cave and he wiped sweat slick palms along his thighs before whistling three short notes.

  A snort of laughter came from the cave's mouth.

  "Such nonsense is not needed. If I had not wanted you here, you would already be dead."

  Dirkk, ex-Baron of Cornith, sauntered from the dark entrance. A black half-mask covered his face, and he wore a jerkin of a burgundy so deep it seemed to absorb the light around him. Hose of the same hue covered his legs and a fur-lined cloak hung in a straight line from his shoulders to brush the toes of leather boots polished to a high sheen. A chain of gold links encircled his neck and trailed down across his chest to disappear inside the folds of the cloak.

  His eyes flicked over the figure that waddled toward him. A brown robe stretched tight over the man's rotund middle, and his pallid skin glowed white in the moon's light. Dirkk heard him wheeze as he neared. "How goes it, Thomas? Or should I say Healer Kerry Daemon?"

  Gray eyes, the only thing recognizable from the Thomas Dirkk had known from before, narrowed. "Don't call me such," he snapped.

  At his tone, two pale silver shapes leapt from the shadows. They were huge, the size of small ponies. The origins of the shaggy beasts could be seen in the shape of their heads and pointed ears, but those features were all that remained of the forest wolves they'd once been. Black lips drew back from four-inch fangs and a deep growl rumbled from their throats as they circled Thomas. He froze in place and grew paler still.

  "You fear my fenris-ena?"

  Thomas gulped and nodded.

  Dirkk laughed. "As you should, with but one flick of my finger they would shred you and then feed on your flesh."

  "Aye, Master," Thomas choked out.

  Dirkk looked beyond the trembling man. "You come empty-handed?"

  "They wait behind me with Talix."

  "Talix? What is the dear fairie prince doing here so soon after his last visit? Does he strive to lead his father to us?"

  "He has news."

  "Bring them forward." Dirkk turned and walked back toward the cave. He snapped his fingers and the fenris-ena leapt to follow.

  Thomas moved back into the trees. "Come."

  Ten small, naked figures, eight females and two males, flew into the glade. Nine of the fairies stared straight ahead out of dull, vacant eyes. The tenth flew to hover before Thomas. "Where is Dirkk?"

  "Inside."

  Talix darted toward the cave's opening and Thomas smiled. Snarls filled the air, followed by a high-pitched squeal.

  The fairie prince erupted from the cave. "Why did you not tell me?" he screamed at Thomas.

  "You did not ask."

  "I will... I will..."

  Thomas leaned toward Talix and smiled again. "You will what?"

  "Enough."

  The word sent both Thomas and Talix spinning to face the cave.

  Dirkk's gaze swept over the nine fairies. "This is all you have brought?"

  Talix flew to hover before him. "This is all I could chance," he whined. "Father grows suspicious. He has gone to Daradawn to demand help from the queen."

  "Tessa," Dirkk said, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "And?"

  "I don't know. He hadn't returned before—"

  "You came without finding what the harlot queen intends?"

  The fairie darted behind Thomas. "What can they do? No one knows where you are."

  "Have you forgotten Regan and her insipid mate Peter," Dirkk asked.

  They can do nothing against your glorious power, Master," Talix said.

  "The rift is open," Thomas interrupted.

  Dirkk turned toward him. "Has Kelsey come?"

  Thomas shrugged. "Patrick has not yet returned. I do not know."

  "Rourk's whelp remains beneath your thumb?"

  "Completely."

  Talix fluttered between them. "We do not need the human. I—"

  "Have brought not nearly enough fairies," Dirkk said. Talix cringed and darted again to hover behind Thomas.

  Dirkk walked to the group of silent fairies. "How long before they will be missed?"

  "They are from the deep woods. I took them all. It will be a while before any alarm is sounded."

  He turned on his heels. "Bring them."

  Inside the cave, mage globes hovered and cast a white glow into all but the left farthest corner. Bands of silver glistened in the magic-smoothed, stone, while woven rugs of scarlet, gold, and black covered the floor. Tapestries of ancient fairie kings and queens draped the walls.

  In the shadowed corner, runes carved into the stone floor curved outward. A char-coated brazier stood in their center. It was to this Dirkk led the group.

  Staring into the brazier's black concave bottom, he muttered beneath his breath. A sickly green ember formed and floated in the darkness.

  He leaned forward and breathed upon it, once, twice, three times. The ember flared and the flame spread until green fire danced on the air inside the brazier.

  Dirkk picked up a small bowl. Its insides stained a brackish-brown. He faced Thomas, waited.

  Thomas cringed, but extended his left hand. Dirkk pushed back the brown sleeve of Thomas' robe and exposed a forearm of white puckered scars. He flipped the edge of his cape to the side. At his waist, the gold chain around his neck separated into two strands; each was embedded into the edges of a hammered gold sheath. Inside the sheath could be seen the hilt of a blade and embedded within the hilt was an emerald the size of his thumb.

  Thomas drew in a sharp gasp an
d his arm began to tremble.

  Dirkk's breath came fast as his fingers caressed the dimpled gold of the sheath. Even in the dim light the scabbard glimmered. A flood of heat raced through his body. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. This is what it must feel like to summon the Power. There can be no finer ecstasy than this.

  A panicked squeak broke the silence and jerked him from his trance. Beyond Thomas, Talix hovered, eyes stretched wide in his small, pasty face. Dirkk smiled. "You have not yet seen the making, have you, my fine fairie prince?"

  Talix shook his head.

  Dirkk grasped the emerald-topped hilt and lifted it free. A blade, black as obsidian, slid from the scabbard. Dirkk turned his wrist from side to side. Light danced along the dagger's length. "Beautiful, isn't it? Formed by the demon Daraodh in the abyss before time, its power incinerates your soul, only to re-form it into a vessel to be filled. To grasp it such, once, is too much, and a thousand and one times, too little."

  "What?" Talix stammered, his gaze riveted on the dagger. "What will fill your soul?"

  Dirkk laughed. "Daraodh knows its holder's most secret desires, and provides, if the holder can withstand the cleansing purge of flames. If not, he ignites and burns, until nothing but ash remains." He thrust the dagger toward the fairie. "You wish to try?"

  "No," Talix squealed and darted up to hover just below the cave's ceiling.

  Dirkk slashed down with the dagger and Thomas screamed. Blood welled from his wrist. Dirkk shifted the wrist so Thomas's blood flowed into the waiting bowl. When the blood filled its bottom, Dirkk thrust Thomas' wrist back toward him. "Bind yourself."

  His lips drawn into a thin colorless line, Thomas fumbled with his right hand, pulled a length of bandage from the pocket of his robe and wrapped it around his wrist.

  Dirkk held the dagger toward Talix. "See the blade." Blood coated the knife and, as they watched, it flared the same sickly green as the still dancing flames and then melted into it. "The dagger has fed; now it will fulfill my wish."

  "You must give it blood?" Talix said.

  "It depends on what will be asked. For what I desire, yes, it must first drink of a mortal's blood." He pointed with the dagger's tip toward a female fairie. "Bring that one."

  Talix flew to her, grasped her hand and drew her forward.

  Dirkk slashed across the fairie's palm and pale-pink blood flowed. He turned her hand over and watched the blood drip into the bowl. Curling her fingers closed against her palm, he released her hand. She did not drop her arm, but held it before her until Talix forced it to her side.

  Dirkk inserted the dagger and slowly stirred the pink into the red. He closed his eyes, muttered guttural words long forbidden and thought dead. The blood smoked and bubbled and then calmed into a glassy surface. "Inside and drink."

  The female fairie flew to the bowl and lowered herself. For a moment she stood upon the still surface and then, inch by inch, her body sank into the blood. They watched in silence as her head disappeared beneath the surface.

  "She will drown," Talix squealed. He darted nearer and stared down into the bowl with silver eyes.

  "I think not." Dirkk reached and pulled the fairie free. The blood dripped from her tiny, naked frame as he sat her before him. "Now watch and listen."

  From the fairie came an anguished shriek. A popping, like whole eggs left too long on the fire, made the air vibrate.

  "What is happening?" Talix cried.

  "Watch," Dirkk said.

  The fairie's torso first lengthened and broadened, followed by the arms and the legs. The neck and head were the last. The neck stretched, growing upward, and the head swelled as if air was being blown into it. The shrieking and popping stopped, and a new four-foot being stood before them. A fine red pelt covered the still clearly female form. Wings sprouted from the fairie's back.

  Dirkk grabbed Thomas' hand and touched his finger to a wing's edge. Thomas screamed and Dirkk laughed as he showed Talix Thomas' finger. It had been sliced by the slight touch.

  "As sharp as the best honed blade," Dirkk said. "And look at this." He held the fairie's hand toward Talix. The fingers ended in two-inch, dagger-pointed nails. The fairie's slanted, pupil-less eyes stared outward, unblinking.

  "She does not see," Talix said.

  "She sees," Dirkk replied. "Get me another."

  The newly formed fairie creature sprang toward the remaining eight. She plucked one up by his wings and brought him forward.

  "You wish to eat him?" Dirkk asked, and she smiled, her elongated canines gleaming in the dimness.

  "You cannot. I have not enough to spare." The fairie's full, sensuous lips formed a pout and he caressed her furred shoulder. "You will feed. I will see to it." Dirkk faced Talix. "So what do you think of my etain'daman?"

  "Fairie demon," Talix said. "An apt name."

  "Indeed, and they do all I command without complaint."

  Thomas stepped between Talix and Dirkk. "But we need many more."

  Talix flapped his wings. "Perhaps humans would suit you better," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "You breed like rabbits. A few hundred or so of you would not be missed."

  Thomas reached out and clapped his hands in front of the fairie's nose.

  Shrieking curses, Talix darted upward.

  The etain'daman laughed.

  "Enough," Dirkk said. "You," he pointed toward Talix, "must return home. I want to know who Tessa sent to look into the missing fairies. And you," he said to Thomas, "see what Rourk's lad can tell us." He rubbed his temples with his fingertips. "I tire, but the forming must be completed. It will take many etain'daman to destroy the dragons, but with them gone Daradawn will be much easier to grind beneath my boot heel."

  Chapter One

  Kelsey Cafferty traced the calendar date with her fingertip. It and the next six were circled with red ink.

  The rift was open, although she hadn't needed the printed numbers to tell her so; the morning's pea-soup fog and the slight dusting of snow on the lawn had done that.

  She turned and stared at her reflection in the framed mirror on the kitchen wall. Blue eyes wide with uncertainty stared back. With a disgusted grimace, she raked fingers through her newly streaked blonde hair. "Damn, girl, get a grip. You made the decision last night, and you're sticking with it."

  The timer buzzed and she crossed to the range and stirred the simmering red clam sauce. She dipped a chunk of French bread into it and popped it in her mouth. Oregano and garlic flooded her senses. Perfect. Just like the crystal-laid table, the open bottle of Zinfandel wine, and her soon-to-be-fiancé, Duncan. She glanced at the clock. Six-thirty. He was due at seven, and he'd be here right at the stroke, not a minute before or after.

  She'd packed her backpack this morning, but only after hours of soul-searching had led her to the decision to accept Duncan's marriage proposal.

  Duncan was a journalist, perfect for her in every way. From the first time they'd worked together, there were sparks between them. Her photos and his words. They blended like peanut butter and chocolate and for the past six-and-a-half years the two of them had worked only with each other.

  Three days ago, he asked her to marry him. Tonight she would tell him yes, and tomorrow she would go to Mount Diablo and through the rift.

  Her stomach quivered, did a little jig, and goose bumps erupted on her arms.

  God, she missed all of them. Did Regan and Peter have any children? Was Queen Tessa married? And Ben and Margeaux, had their friendship blossomed into something more? And Angus? She smiled. Who had the gruff dwarf found to mother after she'd left? Maggie would be ten now. How long did a basset hound live? The smile faded. What about Dirkk and Thomas; had they been found and made to pay for the pain and heartache they'd inflicted?

  Kelsey poured a glass of the red wine and sat down at the kitchen table. This was her favorite room in the Victorian. The yellow-cream walls and bright rag rugs on the oak hardwood floor never failed to cheer her up. She'd taken down Regan's past
el prints and put up her own framed photos. Her two favorites were the print of the sun setting behind the Golden Gate Bridge, fog shrouding all but the uppermost part of the span; the other she'd taken atop Mount Diablo. To the casual observer it was nothing but a sun-washed field of tall brown grass surrounded by gnarled oak trees, but she knew exactly where the rift would open. For seven years, no matter the weather, she'd driven monthly to the area. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, she'd talked to Regan and Peter, telling them everything going on in her life, and asking about theirs.

  Kelsey closed her eyes. The memories of Rourk were there, begging for attention. She took a deep breath and let them come. It was easier now. She didn't cry as often. She could even smile, wish Rourk a good life, and mean it.

  Patrick would be fourteen. Was a teenager any easier to cope with in Daradawn than here? And Rourk's wife, Caitlan? Were they happy? Were there more children? Her stomach twisted and she drained the last of the wine, welcoming the acidic tartness in her throat. She stood, swayed, and reached for the back of a chair to steady herself. Whew, enough wine on an empty stomach. She wouldn't slip back into the trap again of needing two or three glasses before sleeping.

  She was happy and she wanted Rourk to be happy, too. She was moving on with her life. How could she not want him to do the same? She pressed her burning cheek against the cool glass of the enclosed porch. What would it be like to see him again? She reached for the bottle of wine and re-filled her glass. What the hell. It's a celebration. I'm getting engaged.

  The doorbell chimed. Kelsey glanced at the clock. It was six-forty-five. Duncan? Early? She smiled. "I guess he wants an answer." She set the glass down, smoothed her hair as she walked to the door.

  Kelsey looked through the square pane of glass. A young, coffee-skinned woman stood in the frosted sconce's light. She wore blue jeans and a brown leather fur-trimmed jacket. Her corn-rolled hair grazed her shoulders. A crystal bead decorated the end of each braided strand. The beads flashed like strobes when she moved. The girl's teeth tugged at her bottom lip. She reached to push the doorbell again, then drew her finger back.