WINDKEEPER (34 page)

Liza suddenly looked off into the forest as though she’d heard her name called. Her face paled.

"Look at me, Liza!" he demanded. "Liza. Look at me!"

"Oh, Conar," she mourned. "I hear…"

His eyes filled with a hardness she had never before seen, made even more effective by the tears now unheeded down his cheeks.

"By all that is holy, Liza," he swore, "you will always be mine. It is my voice you will heed!"

"Do you hear it?" she asked, listening intently for the softly sighed name wafting through the trees. "Do you hear Them calling?"

"I hear
me
speaking to you," Conar snarled, his face screwed into a line of unforgivable pain. "I am here. Here with you. You need no other!"

Liza’s lips trembled, her body shuddered beneath his, for the voice was closer now, more insistent. "Conar, I must—"

"No man will ever take you from me. I’d butcher any man foolish enough to try." His hands came from around her to bury themselves in the thickness of her long, jet-black hair. He held her face and locked his gaze with hers. "Do you hear me, Liza? You will listen to my voice and no other!"

She blocked out the calling; would not heed the summons. She gave herself up to this man’s passion, to his need, to his hunger. "I hear you, my love," she whispered as his body began to claim hers.

When it was over, when his lust was spent inside her and her arms cradled him as he slept, Liza lay awake, listening to the faint call that was her name, over and over again. "Awhile longer," she whispered to the still night. "Only awhile longer."

"Liza," came the call, intense and prolonged on the night wind.

She lay with him in her arms, gazing down at the tousled blond hair. In sleep, he looked so vulnerable, so like a lost little boy. His long lashes fanned the blush of lovemaking still on his high cheekbones.

Now and again, he would smile, making her wonder what dreams made him do so. She stroked his bright hair and placed a feather-soft kiss on the top of his head.

"Forgive me, my love," she whispered. "Please, please forgive me."

* * *

Teal and Legion sat staring into the campfire Rayle was stoking. The men had not spoken to one another for well over two hours, lost in their private thoughts. It was close to dawn, and Conar and Liza had not returned. The men had kept vigil all night and were tired and bleary-eyed, cold from the damp, chill fall air. They huddled closer to the fire, warming their hands, and listened to the eerie trill of a mourning dove.

"That damn bird’s been at it all night," Teal snapped, hating the sound even more than usual. It was a spine-tingling cry that set his teeth on edge.

"Ignore it," Legion remarked. He hunched his shoulders inside his great cape and blew on his cupped hands. "By the gods, but it’s cold."

"I’ve been thinking," Rayle told them. "I think we should leave them alone. The wedding is in a few weeks, and if no postponement comes, they’ll want all the time they have can together."

Teal stood and stretched. "I think that would be wise. He’s angry with us as it is. Our presence may only serve to further irritate him."

"You just don’t like discord, du Mer," Legion snapped.

"True, but I think Conar would like this time alone with Liza."

"Maybe so," Legion concurred. "He’s hurting so bad. I can feel it."

"Liza’s with him. She knows how to handle him," Teal remarked. "This is nothing new for her."

"My heart aches for him," Legion admitted. "I see nothing but pain, and more pain, ahead for him."

Rayle stood and gazed off into the distant, his soldier’s ear cocked for a sound he had heard as the men talked. The mourning dove had stopped its infernal trill, a sign something had disturbed the bird’s songfest. His hand came up to still the conversation and when he knew the others were heeding his warning, he stooped and drew his sword from the scabbard by his bedroll. "Rider coming."

Legion and Teal took up their own weapons. Out in the middle of nowhere, as they were, precaution kept one alive. The threat of some blackguard holding the heir to the throne of Serenia hostage for ransom was not something Conar’s friends took lightly. Despite their playing around with Conar and Liza, the three men took their responsibilities to their Overlord seriously.

As one, the men moved out of the clearing and through the thick foliage leading to the roadway, careful to make as little noise as possible. Crouching low beneath the branches, they blended in with the silent, still-dark forest and made their way to the strip of roadway beyond.

The sound of hooves on the pre-dawn air was easily heard now, the rider not bothering to silence his steed’s snorting and jingling harness.

Coming onto the road, the three men waited for the rider to approach.

Rayle grimaced, then let out a sigh. "I think it’s my brother," he said, relief in his voice.

"What’s he doing out here?" Teal inquired.

"Ho, there!" Thom Loure called as he spied the men. "Been looking for you!"

"What are you doing out of bed so early, Thommy?" Rayle snapped as his brother drew near.

"Wasn’t by choice!" came the merry reply. He reined in his huge palfrey and came down from the saddle with a heavy thud of big feet. "Good morn."

Thom Loure was only a few minutes younger than Rayle, looked exactly like him except for one minor difference. His hair—or what there was of it, for he kept most of it shaved—was jet black where Rayle’s was flaming red. One long pigtail hung down from a three-inch-wide section of hair from brow to base of skull. The rest of his skull was blue-black with stubble. Both men had a wicked sense of humor, a disposition that remained hidden by their scowling faces, and comical expressions that made children love them dearly. Rayle doted on Thom, and Thom idolized Rayle.

"Why were you looking for us?" Legion asked.

The smile left Thom’s congenial face. "Things are in a mighty uproar, Commander. The King sent me to bring back his son. Is he with you?"

"Aye, he is." Legion turned to Teal. "You’d better go get him."

"Me?" Teal gasped. "Why me?"

"Just go, damn it!" Legion snarled.

Teal glanced at Thom. "Is there some hurry?" He sensed he wasn’t going to like Thom’s answer.

Thom glanced at his twin. "The wedding party has arrived and they are wanting to move up the wedding."

Legion cursed beneath his breath and turned his back on the men so they could not see the look on his face.

"Is
she
there, too, this time?" Teal asked, now more hesitant than ever to go after Conar. As far as Teal knew, the Princess Anya had not, as yet, stepped foot inside Serenia. Not once during all the times the marriage had been postponed for first one reason and then another. If she was here now, that was trouble.

"Aye," Thom said, causing Teal to groan.

"Did you see her?" Rayle asked.

"I saw this little woman in a veil hobble up the steps to the keep."

"You saw her," Rayle mumbled. "Then it is this time," he said to no one in particular.

There was a moment’s silence as the men digested this news before Legion turned on Teal and snapped at him. "Go fetch him, now, du Mer!"

"Is our lady with him?" Thom asked his brother.

"Aye," Rayle said and put an arm around his twin, "and this ain’t gonna be a pleasant journey home."

Legion watched Teal disappearing through the trees. His heart was filling with a hot pain. He knew there was going to be trouble and also knew he would be the one expected to handle it. "How soon is the wedding going to be moved up?" he asked Thom.

"This weekend," Thom answered, making Legion flinch.

"That’s only three days away!" Rayle muttered. "How do they expect him there by then?"

"They knew where you were," Thom told him.

"How?" There was disbelief in Rayle’s voice.

"I don’t know. They just did."

Legion tuned out Rayle and Thom’s conversation and wondered at the new feeling creeping into him, something alien he had never before experienced. He poked at it as one would an aching tooth, worrying the pain, marveling at it. He shook his head. Was it relief he was feeling? Relief that it would soon be over and done with.

Turning away from the twins, he crossed near the picket line where their horses were and thought he saw movement in the trees, but when he stopped and looked closer, there was nothing there. He listened hard, but nothing moved. Sighing at his own nerves, he hunched before the fire and stared into the flames.

He now realized what he had felt was more than relief that the marriage was about to take place. He also felt guilty. He was experiencing an unnerving happiness that made him giddy. He was too afraid to examine that feeling closely for he feared it had everything in the world to do with Liza’s upcoming availability.

He began to steel himself for the battle of wills between himself and his brother that he knew was coming.

* * *

He turned over in his sleep and reached out for Liza. When his hand encountered only empty space, he opened his eyes and looked beside him. He raised his head and peered around, softly calling her name, but there was no answer. He heard footsteps coming through the trees and laid down his head, waiting for her to return. He listened as leaves crunched and bushes were pushed aside. Frowning, he realized the footsteps were too heavy for a woman’s and he sat up again, listening more intently.

At Teal’s summons, he ground his teeth together and stood, dragging on his breeches.

"Conar?" Teal called and nearly jumped out of his skin as Conar answered.

"I’m here, du Mer," Conar snapped. He had emerged out of the forest like a specter.

"Your father sent Thom Loure after you," Teal blurted, wanting to get this over with.

Conar was beginning to feel a cold dark finger of dread tracing its way down his spine through his shirt. "Why?"

"You won’t like it."

Rapidly losing what little patience he had, Conar squinted at his friend. "Get on with it! What does Papa want?" The cold finger had slipped down to claw at his spine.

Taking a deep breath, Teal answered in a rush. "They are here. They’ve brought The Toad this time, Conar, and are demanding the wedding be moved up." He took one look at the horror stamped on his friend’s face and had to look away.

"Moved up to when?" Conar asked quietly, wondering what was taking Liza so long.

"I think Thom said this weekend."

Conar stared at him with a sudden understanding that made his face turn white. "Liza," he whispered.

"You can’t take her back with us," Teal protested, gathering courage from Conar’s quietness. "Maybe Thom can take her to Ivor."

"Is she with the others?" he asked, his heart hammering painfully.

Teal stared at him. "Isn’t she with you?"

The wound down his spine gaped open and Conar wanted to groan with the agony of it. Breaking into a run, he skirted the clearing where they had camped, rushing past the three men who looked up in alarm at his flight. He heard Legion call to him, but he was incapable of answering. His total concentration was on the picket line where their horses had been tethered just outside the clearing.

He knew even before he got there what he would find, but still his throat constricted as he lurched to a stop. Reaching out for a nearby tree to keep from falling in his headlong rush, his eyes swept the horses. There had been five last evening.

Now, there were four.

His breath was ragged as he gasped in air and a trembling hand went up to push the hair from his eyes.

"Liza?" he asked so softly he could barely hear himself. He could feel the wound along his spine dripping away his life’s blood. He shook his head to clear it of the agony throbbing there, but the pain only intensified. He stared straight ahead at the empty place beside Seayearner where her mare had been tied. Her saddle and bridle were gone as well.

She was gone.

Somehow with her witch’s sight, she had seen this coming last evening. She had asked him had he heard Them calling to her.

Who? he thought. Who had called to her? Who had made her leave him? He feared it was the Multitude, and a cold horror flooded his body as his father’s words came back to him: "No man marries a Daughter of the Multitude and sleeps with another woman."

Had They taken Liza from him? Was The Toad more than she appeared? Was she like his mother, a Daughter of the sect?

Liza could not stay. She had tried to tell him as much. She had known that, if she stayed, he would have tried to prevent her from leaving him. She had given him no choice. She had taken the decision out of his hands.

Or had she?

Who was responsible for Liza bringing his world to a grinding halt?

Not since his mother died had he felt this kind of pain. He had put his tears aside then, as he had put his childhood aside, but now hot tears of sorrow slowly ran down his flushed cheeks to scald him. His hand trembled as he reached to brush away the treacherous signs of weakness. He gazed in confusion at the wetness that clung to his fingertips, staring at it for a long time before he let his hand fall to his side, and he gave way to the tears.

Then he raised his hand again and stared with surprised eyes to see a thin braid circling his wrist. He touched the gleaming black strands with the tip of one finger and knew she had tied the lock of her hair around his wrist while he slept.

Before she left him.

"Liza?" he questioned softly.

"
To remember me by, Milord
," flitted through his mind.

His proud shoulders sagged as his entire body shook from the effort to hold back the wrenching sobs. He tried desperately to stop from whimpering with the pain, but his tears grasped him with unsheathed claws, tearing at his vital organs, eating away at him with a vengeance.

With his fists tightly clenched, he sank to his knees on the cold ground and his head fell forward to his chest. Unstoppable tears burst from him and a piteous moan came from his very depths. Wrapping his arms around himself, he began to rock back and forth with the rhythm of his pain, gripping himself so tightly the flesh along his ribcage began to bruise, but the agony of losing Liza cut too deep for him to feel physical discomfort.