WINDHEALER

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  "But he couldn't have been more than six or seven!"

  "But you have to remember, Brelan wasn't like the rest of us. He'd roam around the keep and the outbuildings as though he owned all of it. The little bugger got more whippings than you could shake a stick at, but that didn't keep him from mischief. If he wanted to do something, he always did it. He set out looking for Conar and, like he told me later, he knew he'd be the one to find him."

  "Were they at odds back at that age?"

  "They were at odds from the day Brelan sneaked into the nursery and crammed Conar's mouth full of cheese."

  "Cheese?"

  Legion chuckled. "Conar was just nine months old. He'd been crying all day, probably teething, and Brelan thought he was hungry, so he fed him." Legion's eyes misted with tears. "Nearly choked Conar to death! I can still see him running away from Conar's nanny, just as fast as his little legs would carry him."

  "What did your father do?" She was laughing.

  "Beat the shit out of Brelan. I think that's where all the trouble between Brelan and Conar started." He looked at her. "To this day, Brelan will tell you he was only trying to help his brother."

  "Did he get Conar down? From the timber?"

  "No. As a matter of fact, by the time Brelan found him, Conar was awake, and not at all happy. I guess Conar thought Brelan had been the one who'd strung him up and I'd wager he said a few things Brelan took exception to. So, Brelan made matters worse."

  "How?"

  Legion grinned. "He set Conar to swinging and ran off."

  Liza made an unladylike snort. "Oh, my. I can just see him doing it, too!"

  "By the time Hern found Conar, the brat was furious. He demanded Papa…" Legion held up his hand and began to tick off items on his fingers "…beat Brelan within an inch of his life, incarcerate him in the deepest part of the dungeon where all the beasties live, feed him on stagnant water and moldy bread, then behead him."

  "What did your Papa do?"

  "Again, beat the shit out of Brelan and then made him apologize to Conar. You can imagine how well that went over with Bre!"

  "I'm surprised Conar didn't go after him once he was able."

  "He went after the real culprit—Galen." A gleam entered Legion's eye. "Then Brelan went after Galen. And then…" He shrugged. "I went after Galen."

  "You bully!"

  "I was the oldest, and being the oldest, it was my responsibility to keep them all in line!"

  "Who told you that?"

  Legion blushed. "No one actually told me. I just assumed it was my duty."

  She smiled. "Thank you, Milord."

  "For what?"

  "For trying to take my mind off Brelan's mission."

  Legion cupped her face in his hands. "He'll be all right, dearling." He kissed her forehead, her nose. "And he'll bring them home safely. Just wait and see."

  Liza pressed her head against his chest, closing her eyes to the steady, comforting sound of his beating heart. "I pray you're right." Her eyes strayed to the seagate.

  It was Conar who told her of the legend of the garden, the tale of the Rose and the Thorn. In her mind, she had become the rose bereft, alone, her head drooping from the loss of the thorn's support. And he…he had become the thorn. Stripped of all he held dear; love, honor, even life.

  It seemed fitting that the winter chill had withered the thorn bush the year he died. It no longer grew in the garden, but she refused to allow the gardener to remove the dead bramble.

  "Sweeting?"

  "I'll be fine." She snuggled against his warmth. "You will be careful in Jedry, Milord?"

  "I will." He kissed the top of her head. "You will take care of yourself while I'm gone?"

  She nodded, missing him already. She scanned his dear face. His thick hair was gunmetal gray now, his blue eyes not as clear as they once had been, but then they had seen much sorrow. His beard was thick with gray, the laugh lines around his eyes deepening. His shoulders were still wide, proudly held, and his waist was as trim as ever, his belly as flat and hard, but there was a subtle aging to Legion A'Lex that time had not put upon him.

  He still made her knees weak and her belly quicken with longing when he gazed at her, as he was doing now. She blushed as one gunmetal gray brow rose in challenge.

  "Lady, you have this knack of looking at me in a way that scalds my soul." He lowered his lips to hers and tasted the sweetness lingering there. "Will you send your warrior off into the cold with no passion to warm his bones?"

  Liza smiled. "My warrior was well-warmed last eve, Milord."

  Legion shook his head. "I have not forgotten and well you know it." He kissed her again, letting his lips linger on hers, drawing heaven from the fullness of her coral mouth.

  She tossed her head, her long black braid of silken hair flipping behind her. The emerald green of her tilted eyes squinted with merriment. "Was that you in my bed last eve?"

  Legion chuckled, hugging her, breathing in the sweet smell of lavender that belonged entirely to Elizabeth A'Lex. "When I get back, I'll make you eat those words, lady."

  "Legion!" an exasperated voice shouted from the doorway into the library.

  Legion turned, looking at Teal du Mer with a lethal grimace. "That man is a veritable pest. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he's getting senile in his old age."

  "Legion!" du Mer called, "are you coming?"

  "I'm not even breathing hard, du Mer!" the King answered in a rush of spite.

  "What?"

  Sometimes, Legion thought with dismay, du Mer could be a bit dense. He gave his wife one last look of hopelessness and kissed her forehead. "Take care, Sweeting." He turned to go.

  "Legion? There's been no word from Brelan?" she asked.

  He turned back to her. "Not yet, love. Give him time."

  She nodded. Her heart was in her throat. "Don't let anything happen to you," she said in a hurt little voice. "If I lost you, too…"

  "I'll be back," he swore, wanting to take her in his arms again, but knowing neither of them could endure it.

  She smiled at him, her lips trembling. Beyond him, she could see Teal waiting. She lifted her hand. "Take care, Tealson. And take care of my husband."

  "With my life," the gypsy swore.

  * * *

  Arch-Prelate Kaileel Tohre looked up from his ledger. "What is it, Robert?"

  "The King is here to see you, Holiness."

  Tohre cursed. "What does that fool want now?"

  Robert MacCorkingdale folded his hands over his chest. "He's leaving for the negotiations. The Tribunal's sending him to Jedry for a month-long inspection of lands needed for new Temples."

  "I am the Tribunal, remember?"

  Long ago, Auxiliary Priest Robert MacCorkingdale would have been afraid of Tohre's scathing tongue. But that was in the past. "You told A'Lex to see you before he left, Holiness, so you could give instructions on the distribution of the conquered territories. Have you forgotten?"

  Tohre glared at his former pupil with loathing. "I have not!" He shuffled a stack of papers. "Don't just stand there, Robert! Send the bastard in to me!"

  Robert smiled. The old man was beginning to not only lose track of his senses, he was beginning to lose his ability to intimidate, as well. Tohre had become a pathetic, rambling old fool whose nightmares were spoken of in hushed tones by the Domination.

  "He dreams about the Prince," Robert's grandmother had remarked. "About what he done to the boy."

  Not only was Tohre losing his authority within the Tribunal and among the other members of the Domination, he was beginning to make brutal enemies among those in the two groups who had once been loyal only to him.

  "Tohre is dangerous," one of the Synod members had hinted. "He makes grave mistakes."

  "He should've never sanctioned Legion A'Lex to marry the Queen. A'Lex cannot be trusted."

  "And Brelan Saur should have been eliminated before he was allowed to journey to Tyber's Isle! What if by some quirk of fate that one return
s? And brings with him the destruction of all we have tried to accomplish?" one of the High Priests queried.

  "That one should have been executed and his body cast to the sea. To have allowed him to live was folly! Tolkan must be rolling in his grave for having granted Tohre's request!"

  "We don't know how long Tohre can be allowed to lead us," another Synod member agreed. "I think the man has gone as far as he can within the order. It is time for new blood."

  And Robert MacCorkingdale intended to be that new blood. With each passing day, he used what fledgling power he had to undermine Tohre's position. Misplacing important papers, sending letters meant for one man to another, ordering troop movements about like men on a chessboard and thus costing the Tribunal bags and bags of Temple gold…all in the name of Kaileel Tohre, whose signature Robbie could counterfeit to perfection.

  "Stop wool gathering!" Tohre shouted. "I do not have all day to wait on that fool!"

  Robert opened the door and ushered in the King. He pointed to the chair before the desk.

  Legion always felt as though he were being suffocated in Tohre's presence. The man's hateful stare never failed to make him sick. "I'm leaving within the hour. What was it you wanted?" His voice was clipped and hard, full of hate.

  Tohre's thin lips stretched with malice. "You never show me the respect I am due."

  "It's hard to show respect for someone you loathe. Someone who doesn't deserve respect."

  Tohre's eyes frosted; the smile froze on his bloodless lips. "There is a limit to how much I will tolerate from you."

  A rare smile, one hardly seen on Legion's mouth in the presence of Tohre, hovered on the his full lips. "You need me, Tohre. Without Liza and me, together, you would never be able to rule this kingdom or any other. The people have taken as much from you as they will."

  "No one, not even you or your precious whore, is irreplaceable." Long red nails tipped in gold plowed through thinning blond hair. "I can have you assassinated and give her to Saur."

  Legion's face hardened. "You can try."

  For a long moment, Tohre held the King's gaze. The atmosphere was thick with hatred and mistrust. Tohre's gaze was the first to lower. "Have you forgotten about the boy?"

  Legion's back stiffened. "I haven't."

  "That's good, for he will be one of us soon."

  Fear twisted in Legion's gut, but he kept his face immobile, his voice steady, unaffected by Tohre's spiteful grimace. "What exactly do you want me to do in Jedry?"

  "I want as much land as possible to go to the Temple. The rest, what is of no use to us, may be given to those bumbling fools."

  "The homeless."

  "Whatever." Tohre fanned his hand in dismissal. "Make sure there is a designated area for that trash." He sniffed. "If huts must be built, build them cheaply."

  "Anything else?"

  "No."

  Legion knew he had been dismissed. He stared at the man, hating him with every fiber of his being, and when Tohre looked at him, the King's face twisted with loathing.

  "Get out before you join your brother in the Labyrinth!"

  More gut-wrenching fear shot through Legion. Not fear for himself, but for Brelan. For one heart-stopping moment, he thought Tohre might well know what he and the others were about, but there was nothing but malice in the old priest's eyes. He turned on his heel and left the Arch-Prelate's office as quickly as he could.

  Once the door was closed, Tohre sat back and stared into space. Plans had been made to keep Brelan Saur in the Labyrinth, for once the man arrived there, once he knew the secret, he could not be allowed to return to Serenia.

  Chapter 2

  * * *

  The cowl of her robe held tightly to her face, Liza stepped into the women's section of the Temple and walked silently down the aisle between the pews. Only two candlesticks lit the room, the flames of dancing along the wick as she passed. The scent of sandalwood filled the air and the temperature was cooler than was comfortable even with her heavy wool robe.

  Genuflecting toward the Presence Light near the altar, the Queen of Serenia slipped gracefully into a pew and pulled down the kneeler. Sinking to her knees, she clasped her hands and lifted her eyes to the statue of Tethys, The Mother of all Mankind.

  "Blessed One," Liza whispered, "Hear the pleading of Your Maidservant. I am sorely in need of Thy intervention. Look into my heart and see my loyalty to the Daughters of the Multitude. Search my soul and be assured I am worthy of Thy help. I leave my heart and soul open for Thee to judge."

  Liza bowed her head. She could hear the tick of the wood beams overhead settling, a bell chiming in the men's side of the Temple, a door closing somewhere deep inside the complex. Her jaw trembled from the cold.

  She waited for more than an hour, the time crawling past. She had almost given up on being visited by the deity when a soft blue light began to glow in one corner of the chancel. The faint scent of lavender filled the room.

  "Your heart is troubled, Daughter," a gentle voice said.

  Liza brushed back her cowl. "My son is in the hands of The Evil, Gracious Lady."

  The blue light shimmered, then its rays solidified into the form of a beautiful woman with long dark hair. The Mother Goddess Tethys smiled sadly. "We know."

  "He will be of the Age in a few months and they will take him to the Abbey unless…" Liza's vision wavered as tears gathered in her eyes. Her lips trembled more from emotion than the coldness.

  "Did you not come to Iluvia and ask that Lady to grant you communion with your son?"

  And I am grateful the Goddesses allowed me to speak with him."

  "Thus you know he is well," the Mother Goddess said.

  "But they are mistreating him," Liza sobbed, her tears flowing freely. "He knows pain…"

  "That was his fate, Daughter. He is the son of Conar McGregor and as such was destined to know the same pain as his father before him."

  "Had his father lived—"

  "What is it you seek this morn, Daughter?"

  Liza felt the unvoiced reprimand and hung her head. "I can not bear the thought of knowing he will be consecrated to The Evil."

  "What will be, will be with your son, my child. Your prayers should be for the envoy you sent to bring home your loved ones."

  "I do ask for their safety, Blessed One. I say prayers morning and night for their quick return." She looked up, surprised to see the Goddess standing directly before her.

  "Your destiny lies with Brelan Saur. You know this, do you not?" Tethys asked.

  "Aye."

  "So you know he will return safely."

  Tears clogged Liza's throat. She twisted her hands together, her heart aching.

  "He will return when the Gods and Their Ladies decree it is his time. If it is before your son is taken to the Abbey, so be it. If not, you will have to live with Their decision. Until then, make entreaty for your husband and those who are silently fighting The Evil."

  Chastised, Liza covered her face with her hands and broke into wretched sobbing. "I have lost Corbin as I have lost his father!"

  "It is a woman's lot to bear the pain of what men do to one another. Such is the way of Life."

  "I can not bear this."

  "Stop feeling sorry for yourself!" the Mother Goddess ordered. "You have been granted the ability to communicate with your son. That is more than Conar McGregor was allowed when he passed time at the Abbey! Speak with your son. He is but a few rooms away."

  Liza jerked up her head. "Where?" she asked, knowing she would never be allowed to see her firstborn son even if she could get past the Temple guards.

  "Commune with the young one. Reassure him you are with him even until the end of your life and beyond. His father had a brother to comfort him during his trails. Corbin has only you. Let him know he is not alone."

  Liza swiped at the tears clouding her vision. "Won't they hear me?" she asked, referring to the Brothers of the Domination who ran the Temple.

  "Your connection to Corbin is one
of lifelines and bloodlines, Daughter. He is a part of your body and you of his. The communion could be heard only by another whose life is so entwined with yours and Corbin's, and that man is beyond hearing his son's cries."

  At the reminder of her loss—and the loss of her son—Liza could feel the pain in her soul.

  "Open your mind and your heart and speak to your child, Daughter. He needs his mother dearly this day."

  A whimper escaped Liza's lips. "They are hurting him?"

  "Call your child and he will feel only your love, Daughter. Bid him call you when The Evil is reaching out to him and he will know only the numbing embrace of your care."

  Tethys' form dissolved in a pulse of azure light.

  "Corbin!" Liza called.

  "Mama?" was the immediate answer.

  "My dearling," she whispered, and for more than an hour spoke silently to him, helping him through torments he could not or would not reveal. Their communion on the metaphysical plain was heard by no prying ears.

  After Liza left the Temple, she took to her bed for four days.

  * * *

  The town of Jedry sat on the easternmost tip of Ionary. Vast sections of the land were utterly useless save for harvesting stone and fill dirt. What farmable land there was, Tohre had demanded for the Temple. The inhospitable acreage allotted to the homeless of Ionary was populated thickly with scorpions, vipers, and other poisonous denizens.

  Sitting under the sweltering canvas of a dilapidated tent, the King of Serenia wiped sweat from his brow and listened to the complaints of the Ionarians queued up beneath a broiling sun to be assigned a secket of land.

  "There be no water for nigh ten miles, King Legion," one fellow whined. "How are we to get water to that plot of land?"

  Legion looked at Teal, who checked a map. "He's right, Your Grace," Teal said, his lips twitching at the title. The gypsy would never get used to the designation. "He and his family would have to truck in the water."