WINDKEEPER (35 page)

"Liza," he whimpered to the silent morning.

Deep in his soul, he knew he’d never see her again. She had taken his heart as she fled. The thought of never being with her was more than he could bear.

Life without Liza would be a living hell.

Legion and the other men entered the picket area behind him. The wretchedness of his sobbing tore at their hearts, brought tears to their own eyes.

Legion bent to put his arms around Conar. "She’s gone?"

Conar turned fierce eyes on his brother, daring Legion to touch him. One look at the hard and cold face was enough to make Legion back away.

Conar didn’t hear them leave. His head was bent, his heart breaking. He felt such intense hurt within him, could barely breath for it. "Oh, Alel, why?" he asked his god. "Why?"

He felt so alone. He was alone. He would forever be alone, now. There was nothing left, no future to cling to. In her arms, the world had been held at bay. Nothing could hurt him as long as he had her. Now, that peace, so fleeting in his life, like his innocence, his trust, and his future, was gone. Life would forever be filled with memories he would never let die.

"What did I ever do to deserve what You’ve done to me, Alel? Have I been so wicked You must punish me?" He turned his head to one side in anguish and the tears flowed down his cheek. "What did I do?"

He felt broken; shattered beyond repair, the pieces of his heart bleeding and torn. Shaking his head to clear it of confusion, he looked around, trying to find the reason, any reason, any explanation, for it all, but only the soft soughing of the wind and the miserable sound of a mourning dove answered his silent questions.

He listened, thinking the mourning dove’s cry the loneliest sound he had ever heard. It, like him, called for its mate.

"Gone," it seemed to say. "Ever gone."

A cold blast of frigid air came hurtling down from the high peaks of Mount Serenia and the trees swayed with the force. Branches rustled overhead, dropping leaves about him. His golden hair blew about his face, the cold wind freezing the tears on his cheeks, chilling him to the very marrow of his bones.

"I have nothing," he whispered to the mourning dove. "Nothing at all."

And the knowledge cut him deeply.

In despair, he arched back his head and an unearthly animal cry of torment burst from his throat.

Legion’s head snapped up at the sound. It was an eerie sound, long, and echoing as it hovered on the morning breeze. There was defeat in the cry, soul-wrenching agony, abandonment; it had been a sound meant to be silent. Never heard. Never felt.

"Should you go to him?" Teal asked. With his gypsy instinct, he could feel Conar’s great pain.

Legion couldn’t answer. He didn’t know how to answer. He wanted to go to his brother. Felt that he should, but he couldn’t move. Conar’s cry had paralyzed him. The sound, shattering the morning silence, had come from the very pit of his brother’s bleak soul and it had deeply hurt Legion. There was nothing he, nor the other men, could do for Conar McGregor.

What hundreds of his enemies had tried to accomplish had easily been done to Conar by the carelessness of one small hand. Nothing had ever before brought the man to his knees. Not punishments when he was growing up, nor disappointments as a man. He had always seemed to be able to withstand all the loss and pain, hurt and disillusionment thrown at him over the years.

But this had been too much to ask.

Legion swiped angrily at his tears. "She knew this would happen," he said, his face blazing with resentment. He ground his teeth together. "I knew this would happen."

"She won’t be back, will she?" Thom asked his twin.

Rayle shook his head and blanched as another heart-rending cry came from the forest. "I think not."

"The gods help him," Teal whispered. Another pitiful cry rent the air and Teal turned on Legion. "For the love of Alel, do something, A’Lex!"

The fall air had turned as cold as the darkest winter night, and a wind now shifted among the trees; chilling, freezing; killing. Snow wasn’t long in coming, for the smell of it was in the air. Legion went to his brother, carrying a blanket and a flagon of hot mulled wine from Thom’s saddlebags.

Conar sat beside the horses, his knees tightly drawn up and clasped within the perimeter of his arms. He was shivering badly, his lips blue, his cheeks a bright red, but he didn’t seem to notice the cold. He didn’t look up at Legion or acknowledge in any way that his brother had joined him. He stared straight ahead to the empty space beside Seayearner.

Legion placed the blanket around Conar’s shoulders and sat the flagon of wine beside him on the ground. Hunkering down, he put his hand on the tousled blond hair and stroked back a heavy, wind-dampened lock that had fallen across Conar’s forehead.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

Conar heard him. He didn’t answer, but he had heard. He couldn’t seem to do anything but stare at the horses.

Legion stood, his face tight with emotion. Looking at the defeated slump of his brother’s shoulders, he felt a great pain enter his heart.

"I love you, Conar," he whispered, then abruptly turned, and headed back to the fire.

Conar’s lips trembled and a single tear crept down his right cheek. He turned his head and watched his brother walk away. He wanted to thank him. He wanted to tell him he returned that love, but it took too much effort. He was too tired. Too heartsick. Too devoid of feeling, now. He was numb to the core of his being. All the fight had been drained from him and it had left him hollow. There was such a vast emptiness inside his chest where his heart had been, he felt used up, discarded.

His head sagged to his knees as fresh sobs shook his body.

"How is he?" Rayle asked.

"Is he all right?" Teal wanted to know.

"No," Legion snapped, "he isn’t all right. There isn’t anything any of us can do to help right now."

"Should we keep watch over him?" Teal asked.

"Surely you don’t think he’d do harm to himself!" Thom gasped.

Legion leveled a steady gaze at the man. "He tried once before," he said quietly.

Rayle shook his head in protest. "But he was young then. What was he, twelve? Thirteen?" He glanced at Thom. "It was why he was sent home from the temple. He nearly died."

"I didn’t know," Thom mumbled, lowering his head. Surely the Prince wouldn’t do such a thing now.

"We don’t know what to expect. You never truly know what he’s thinking." Teal pulled his cape closer. "I’ve seen him down, but never like this. Not when he came home from the Temple or when his mama died."

"It galls me to spy on him," Rayle remarked.

"You didn’t see the look in his eyes," Legion reminded him.

"How did he try to do hurt to himself as a boy?" Thom asked.

"He cut his wrists. You have to look closely to see the scars. Healer Cayn carefully stitched the wounds."

"But why?"

"No one knows, Thommy. He has never talked to anyone about his reasons."

"Except maybe Hern," Teal corrected.

"I wish Hern was here now. He’d know how to handle him," Legion sighed.

"Do you think we ride for Serenia tomorrow?" Thom asked.

"No," came a firm voice from the trees.

The men looked up to see Conar standing behind them. His mouth was a thin, straight line and his hands were clenched into fists by his side. There was a hardness and a brittleness in his voice, a foreign firmness to the set of his jaw that brooked no argument. He turned his fierce gaze on his brother.

"We ride for Serenia within the hour, A’Lex," Conar snapped. "I have a surprise for the Princess Anya Wynth!" He headed back toward the picket line.

"I like not the gleam in his eye, Legion," Teal remarked as Conar strode away, his head erect, his spine straight.

Standing up slowly, Legion ran a weary hand through his graying hair. "You’d best get used to it, du Mer. Something tells me it’s going to be there for a long time!"

"Damn you," Conar snarled, jerking cruelly on Seayearner’s cinch, making the animal sidestep in surprise. He cursed his horse, hitting it with the flat of his hand on the high flanks. "And damn you, too, you black piece of shit!" he spat as he took a firm grasp of the pommel and swung himself into the saddle. He put spurs to his horse, something he had never done before to any animal.

The steed shied, arching high into the air in stunned protest. But as its heavy hooves struck the ground, Conar urged it forward. The horse dug deep into the frost-laden grass and shot toward the roadway at a fast gallop. Seayearner cleared a small clump of bushes in one smooth leap before thundering down the dirt pathway.

As the wind rushed past, blowing his hair wildly about his head, Conar knew in his heart he held no blame against Liza. She had fulfilled her bargain to him ten times over. She had loved him, and loved him well; giving him all of her, holding nothing back. And she had kept her promise to leave him when the time came; and leave him, she had. She had never once denied her going. It had always been there between them. He had just never taken her seriously.

No, the blame did not lie with Liza.

"Damn you, Anya Wynth, to the deepest crag in the Abyss," he ground out between tightly clenched teeth.

The blame lay squarely on the deformed shoulders of the bitch crouched at Boreas Keep, ready to slurp him under her wretched body and devour what was left of his life. He could feel the wet, slick, hideous feel of her hands on his flesh and he shuddered. He would be at the bitch’s mercy unless he put her in her vile place as soon as he reached the keep. And he intended to do just that. He would not let her paw at him, slither over him, trailing slime in her wake. He would make her pay, and pay dearly, for the loss of the woman he loved.

In his mind, he could see Liza, smiling, laughing, teasing him. The thought of her in the arms of another man, laughing, smiling, teasing, drove him nearly insane with a jealous rage. It made him want to scream.

It was almost an hour before he slowed his pace enough for the others to catch up. Seayearner could not keep up the pace Conar demanded, and horse and rider had fought for the bit. Seayearner had won in the end, doing nothing to improve his master’s mood.

As the others joined him, the young Prince didn’t speak in greeting or acknowledge them in any way. Legion was close on his right side; Teal on his left. The twins rode slightly behind, and to the flanks of du Mer and A’Lex.

"Are you planning on riding all night?" Legion inquired, turning his head to gaze at his brother.

Conar’s stony profile let the man know he was in no mood for idle chitchat. His frosty stare was colder than the air around them as he glared at the road. He moved out ahead of Legion and Teal, for the track was just wide enough to accommodate one horse at the time as they came to the bend in the roadway.

With no warning, and coming with blinding speed, Thom was knocked unconscious from a sharp blow to his head. A wickedly aimed caltrop opened a long gash along the back of the man’s skull. Thom tilted sideways off his big roan stallion and toppled to the ground in a heap.

Rayle opened his dark eyes wide, and gasped, his hands going to his throat where a quarrel buried itself in his windpipe. The Elite Captain gurgled and a stream of bright crimson bubbled from his lips. He pitched to the ground beneath the hooves of his own steed. Rayle Loure was dead in a pool of his own blood.

"Take the bastard alive!" one of the murderers shouted as they rode down from the high dunes bordering the roadway. "They want the Prince alive!"

Conar’s head snapped around at the shout and he saw two of his men down. He glanced up at the eight men who were skidding down the dunes, sand tumbling away from the flying hooves of their massive mounts. In a flash, he was able to make out three men carrying crossbows already drawn; two others brandished maces. The other three waved heavy broadswords as they drew down on the Prince and his men.

"Conar!" Legion shouted, spinning his horse around. "Ride out!" He leaned forward over his horse and started back toward the place where Thom and Rayle Loure lay on the ground.

Teal jerked on his horse’s reins, forcing it up the sandy incline. The horse lost its footing in the soft grass along the base of the smaller dune as the gypsy fought to get his steed out of A’Lex’s way.

"Guard his back, du Mer!" Legion yelled as he shot past Teal and his floundering horse.

Du Mer kicked his stallion in the ribs and blocked the roadway between his Prince and the eight men bent on taking him. He looked back at Conar once, saw the wild gleam of battle in the young man’s face, and groaned.

"Get out of my way, Teal!" the young Prince shouted as he urged his horse toward du Mer.

"Get out of here!" Teal yelled, his attention on Conar. "Get out of here!"

The men attacking them were desert nomads from one of the Hasdu tribes. Their flowing white garments and turbans claimed them as such. Their weapons gleamed in the mid-morning sunlight, and their thick-bodied horses had been bred for speed and endurance. As fighters, the Hasdu were a formidable force.

"Teal, watch out!" Conar screamed.

The nomad had his weapon looped to his left wrist and his arm came up, the mace snapping forward on its tarnished link of chain. Teal took the blow high on his right arm, yelping with the agony. Conar saw him tumbling backwards from his horse, but there was nothing he could do.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Conar yelled. With a savage snarl, he yanked his sword from the scabbard slung over his back and bent low in the saddle, kicking Seayearner forward with his heels. He rode down on the first man, drawing back his arm and, with a mighty sweep of his weapon, lopped the head from his foe’s body. The backward swing of the heavy sword took a mortal bite out of the mace-wielder before the man could leap off his horse and out of Conar’s way.

Legion was having difficulty getting his sword free of the chest of the man he had just impaled so he didn’t see the blow coming that knocked him off his horse. He hit the ground hard enough to crack his teeth together and he spat a mouthful of blood as he rolled to his feet.