WindWarrior

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  Jules nodded. “Aye, but the bell has not pealed and the servants look as dour as I feel. There is no rejoicing over the matter."

  Dek stood. With his hands on his hips, he released a long, tired breath and lowered his head. He could not remember a time in the history of Tarryn when the steeple bell had not welcomed the happy news of the impending birth of a royal Yn Baase heir. It boded ill for the child and he would need to rectify the situation with his people. He might loathe the babe's mother but his son or daughter was innocent of her perfidy and did not deserve to be slighted or thought of in a bad light.

  "I will need to speak to our people when I return,” the Baron said.

  "They will love him or her as they love you, milord."

  Both men turned to see Maire at the top of the stairs. She was dressed simply with her hair hanging loose about her shoulders. She came down the stairs with the regal grace of a queen—even though she was barefoot.

  "Prince Nathan was assassinated,” Dek said. “I'll need to go back to Geddyn."

  "May his soul find peace in the Otherworld,” Maire said. She smiled at Jules. “You will be going as well, milord?"

  "Someone needs to look after this poggleheaded boy,” Jules said. “Guy will be going along to help me keep Dek in line."

  "No, Guy won't be going along,” Dek said, his face stern. “I want a guard around the perimeter of this estate twenty-four hours a day and the entrance to the sea stairs sealed for now. There is to be two guards at the front of the house and two at the rear at all times and a watch team every hour on the hour to patrol the grounds. No one—and I mean no one—is to be allowed access to Maire and that includes representatives of the Tribunal or the Patriarch."

  "Isn't that overdoing it, milord?” Maire asked.

  "No,” Dek said. He reached for her hand. “I don't trust Ynez. While I am gone, I want to make gods-be-damned sure you are safe.” He brought her hand to his lips, kissed it then drew her into his embrace. “Nothing is going to happen to you, tarrishagh."

  Maire met Jules’ eye and smiled sadly at him. “You will guard him for me, Jules?"

  "On my life,” Jules swore.

  Dek kissed her passionately then released her, turned his back to leave. He hated goodbyes but especially so from this woman.

  "He walked here, Jules,” Maire said as she trailed behind them to the door. “You'd best take one of the horses from the stable."

  "Walked here?” Jules asked, his eyebrows aloft. “You walked here, Deklyn? In that storm?"

  "Leave off, Jules,” Dek said. He continued on through the kitchen. Nodding to Hank, he bid the man to see to Maire.

  "I'll guard her with my life, milord!” Hank pledged.

  Maire stood on the porch while the man she loved went into the stable to saddle a mount, having waved aside Hank's offer to do the deed for him. When Dek led the horse out of the stable and swung up into the saddle, she lifted her hand in farewell.

  "Be careful, my love,” she whispered.

  She watched the two men until nothing could be seen of their passing save the plume of dust left behind on the oyster shell road.

  * * * *

  Dek was relieved Ynez did not show herself when he arrived back at the keep. After ordering a bag packed with the ceremonial uniform of his station and rank included, he went to his office to give a few orders to his castellan. His flagship the Céirseach was being hastily provisioned and would not sail for another hour or two. In the interim he remained in his office and it was there a messenger arrived with a summons from Lord Assyl Fyrryn, the Senior Judge of the Tarryn Tribunal requesting the Baron's presence before the Tribunal. Knowing perfectly well what that meant, he strode angrily from the office to the chambers of the Tribunal.

  "Their worships are awaiting you, Your Grace,” the wizened little man who served as the gatekeeper of the chamber informed Dek with a low bow.

  Upon seeing the men decked out in the robes of their position, a muscle flexed in Dek's lean jaw. There was no chair awaiting him so this was—as he knew it would be—a formal meeting. In no mood for politics, he spoke before Fyrryn had a chance to.

  "Make this quick,” he snapped. “I have more important matters to which to attend."

  Lord Assyl's left eyebrow crooked upward. “More important than the announcement of an heir's conception, Your Grace?"

  Having walked straight up to the Tribunal bench, Dek glared into the other man's shifty eyes.

  "You know as well as I do that this conception of which you speak was not something I either expected or wanted, Assyl,” he said, deliberately refraining from giving the man his rightful title. “This is not a situation to be celebrated else you would hear rejoicing in the courtyards and the bell would be tolling. All I'm hearing is a strained silence that tells me the people of Tarryn are no happier than am I."

  "The child is innocent in...."

  "I know the child is innocent, and I will address the situation when I return,” Dek stated. He turned to go.

  "A moment longer, Your Grace!” Assyl called out.

  When Dek swiveled around to face the three-judge panel, he could tell from the look on Assyl's face that the bastard was about to say something Dek knew he wasn't going to like. “Well?” he demanded.

  Assyl cleared his throat, shifted the papers before him, cut his eyes to each of his fellow judges, and then spoke in a voice that held no small amount of trepidation.

  "Your lady-wife, the Baroness, has requested our intervention in a matter she considers of grave consequence."

  Dek narrowed his eyes. “That being what exactly?” he growled.

  "The Baroness is concerned the exact letter of the law regarding marriage contract has been violated,” Lord Gael spoke up.

  Eyes narrowed now to dangerous slits, Dek came back to the bench. “Does she now? In what regard?"

  Gael exchanged a worried look with Assyl before he replied. “She says you are in direct violation of the tenets of the contract."

  "She does, does she?” Dek queried, the muscle in his jaw bunching repeatedly.

  "It is the matter of you keeping a concubine,” Lord Gael stated, sweat pouring from his high forehead. She has asked t ... the woman in question b ... be arrested for adultery, b ... branded a whore then d ... deported back to her c ... country.” He wiped a linen handkerchief over his damp face.

  Dek went completely still, his gaze boring into Gael. He put his hands on the curved edge of the judge's bench and speared the man with a look so enraged, so lethal it made Gael whimper.

  "You touch my woman at peril to your own lady-wives being taken from you and treated in the same manner,” Dek said, his voice as steely as his eyes were cold.

  "Your Grace...!” Assyl started to protest.

  "Had I, as a warrior, tromped about the Geddyn countryside screwing as many women as I desired, you would not have said one word to me of it. Such action would be sanctioned by the laws of Tarryn as a warrior's privilege, a conqueror's right. You would have turned a blind eye and said nothing of it."

  "But this is different, Your Grace,” Lord Gael asserted. “Whoring is one thing, adultery is quite another."

  "You're gods-be-damned right it is different!” Dek roared. “The difference lies in that I lay with a woman who was meant by the gods to be my Cochianglt. She was proclaimed so by the Patriarch, himself! There is no adultery involved."

  "That isn't true, Your Grace. You...."

  "The bitch I was forced to marry against my will has made my life a living hell since the day we Joined. She doesn't want me—never has—but now she will attempt to move heaven and earth to see me kept from the woman I love just to spite me?"

  "There is more involved here than just the loss of affection between you and the Baroness,” Lord Assyl said.

  "Loss of what affection?” Dek thundered, pounding a fist on the bench's mahogany top. “There has never been any affection between me and Ynez Arabach to lose! I hate her—nay, I despise her—as much as she de
spises me!"

  "That is beside the point, Your Grace,” Lord Assyl said. “The Baroness has every right to request your concubine...."

  "Don't you dare to call her that again!” Dek hissed, eyes flashing green fire.

  "You must adhere to the letter of the law with regards to the contract, Your Grace,” Lord Gael said. He was sweating even more profusely. “Now that the Baroness has conceived you cannot be with any other woman. You must...."

  "Let me make something clear to you, Gael,” Dek said. “I am leaving this day to represent our country in a peace accord that has taken generations to see come into being. We are finally going to be able to bring our troops home and end the death and destruction. My mind should be entirely on that, seeing that to completion and not worrying about what you feeble idjuts might be attempting to do at the request of a deranged woman who should have been put out of my misery a long time ago!"

  "Your Grace, please be reasonable,” Lord Assyl said. “The Baroness has a valid point here. She is requesting the temptation you must not indulge in be taken from you so you might...."

  "Make no mistake about it, Fyrryn,” Dek snapped. “If you or your duo of lickspittles go after my woman while I am gone, before the gods and all that is holy I swear to you that you will live to regret it.” His hands clenched into fists on the bench's smooth top. “Not only will I retaliate against your wives, I will come after you with everything I have and completely destroy you and whatever wealth you have managed to acquire over the years. I will take everything you own and turn it over to the people."

  Lord Assyl's face bleached of color. “Your Grace, I beg you not to make threats...."

  "It wasn't a threat, Assyl. It was a solemn vow I just made,” Dek interrupted. “And not only will I destroy you and everyone you hold dear, I will bring Ynez up before the people on charges of consorting with witches and sexual perversion. I will drag that muff-eating cunt of a lover of hers back here from Galrath and have the bitch drawn and quartered before Ynez's very eyes before I order Ynez burned at the stake for heresy!” He pointed a finger at Assyl. “You tell that to your conniving Baroness, and you had best stay the fuck away from my woman!"

  That said, he pivoted and stomped from the room, his face set in such deadly lines of fury no one dared to speak to him as he stormed from the keep.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Seventeen

  What should have taken no less than a few weeks stretched into a month. A month stretched into two and then into three. Just before the start of the fourth month, Deklyn Yn Baase, the Laird of Drogh-gheay was beginning to growl at everyone who crossed paths with him. He was being forced to travel with the new provisional government representatives of Geddyn to every single province to give his stamp of approval on the men chosen to lead the newly formed democratic people's party. With every new county seat, every lonely inn room and silent meal he took, his homesickness for Tarryn—but more importantly for the woman he loved—grew until it was a chore for anyone to be in his company for any length of time. Though he sent daily letters to Maire and received a weeks’ worth back by mail packet every Monday, it was not the same as being with her and hearing her voice—things of which he was in desperate need.

  Sitting at a desk in still another cold, empty inn room with pen in hand and paper lying before him, he gazed out the window as rain ran in sheets down the pane. It had been raining for three days straight, and he was trapped in a quagmire of mud that prohibited traveling on to the next city where another boring rite of celebration awaited his arrival.

  "The Geddyn people have come to respect you for your generosity toward us, a defeated enemy,” Baron Wynth Ralston—the newly elected president of the democracy—assured him. “That you have not made excessive demands on our treasury and have returned our men to us from your jails has gone a long way in altering the way they have always viewed you. The celebrations are their way of thanking you for making our defeat more palatable."

  But Dek knew if he spent another week in Geddyn, he would likely go out of his mind. Although Maire's letters to him were upbeat and filled with love, he dissected them looking for even a hint of trouble. She—as well as Guy in his letters to both Dek and Jules—had sworn no trouble had shown up on Sheidaghan's doorstep, he was still worried sick about her safety. He feared what Ynez might do and remained in a constant state of uneasiness that he knew would not pass until he was home with Maire in his arms.

  A light knock at the door before it opened signaled to Dek that Jules had arrived to escort him downstairs to break the fast.

  "If this fucking rain doesn't stop, we're all going to be covered in mildew,” Jules complained. Dek's cousin had a blazing cold and wicked sore throat and had been out of sorts for a few days now. He came to perch on the bed beside Dek. “Writing the wench?"

  "Nay, I'm making my Çhenney list,” Dek drawled, referring to the late autumn festival of fire during which good little boys and girls received gifts from the Fire King. He shot Jules an irritated look. “Of course I'm writing Maire."

  "Tell her your men are seriously considering revolting against you, tarring and feathering you before we drag you home in chains,” Jules grumbled. “Your attitude is beginning to wear thin."

  Dek tossed his pen to the desk top and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “You're no less antsy to return home than I am, Yn Baase,” he reminded his cousin.

  "Then why not just tell Ralston we've done enough public relations for him and strike out for Norvus Harbor come first light?” Jules questioned. “We've done enough good deeds for the people of Geddyn."

  "Why not strike out this morn? The carriages couldn't make it through the mud but our mounts could,” Dek countered. He glanced at the pouring rain. “I'd rather be riding in this muck and getting soaking wet rather than spend another excruciating day of campaigning for Ralston's party.” He snorted with disgust. “And make no mistake that is precisely what we've been forced to do."

  "That would work for me,” Jules told him. “If I have to shake hands with one more tribal chieftain, I might lose what little mind I have left."

  "Then see to acquiring horses, and we'll shake the Geddyn mud from our boots,” Dek ordered.

  "You mean it?” Jules asked, perking up.

  "Aye, I mean it,” Dek said. He unfolded his arms and pushed his chair back from the desk, stood to stretch his back. “Send word to Larson that we're on our way, and that he's to sail out as soon as we get there."

  "Aye, Your Grace!” Jules agreed and rushed to the door. He was out of the room before his cousin could change his mind.

  * * * *

  It was two in the morning several days later when the Céirseach sailed past Sheidaghan. Because it was so late, no lights shown in the windows but torches sputtered on the front porch and the sight of two armed guards standing watch eased Dek's mind as the ship sailed past. As he had been once before, he was tempted to jump overboard and swim to his love's cottage but Jules no doubt had thought of that and was standing with his cousin at the rail.

  "It's not going to be easy, Dek,” Jules said quietly. “Ynez is going to raise holy hell every time you go to Maire's."

  "Let her,” Dek said. “I'm not giving up the only happiness I'm ever to know."

  "Aye, but Ynez could make life worse for you than she already has."

  Dek shrugged, keeping sight of Sheidaghan as the ship rounded the cliff. He would watch the cottage until he no longer could, his gaze locked on the room where he knew his love lay sleeping.

  "Let her do her worst,” he told Jules. “I can survive anything as long as I know Maire is waiting for me."

  "At least you have the people of Tarryn on your side,” Jules said. He was leaning with his elbows on the rail, watching the silvery phosphorescence that undulated along the hull of the ship. “That will help."

  "I know it isn't going to be a cakewalk,” Dek said. “The only good thing that will come of this entire sordid m
ess will be the babe, and I intend to see he or she doesn't regret coming into this mad world of ours."

  Jules turned his head to Dek. “What will you tell him or her about Maire?"

  "I'll tell him the truth,” he said. “That Maire is my Cochianglt, and that even though I cannot claim her as my lawful wife, I love her with all my heart and always will."

  "And what will you tell him about his mother?"

  Dek sighed. “That I haven't decided on as yet. I suppose it depends on how Ynez treats the child. If she shows any love at all, I'll never speak ill of her to him. Nevertheless, if she treats him as I suspect she will, I'll let him know there is no love lost between his mother and me.” Now that Sheidaghan was out of sight, he turned to lean his back against the rail. “If it's a girl child, I suspect she'll treat her very differently than she would a son. Chances are she'll dote on a female and ignore a male. Only time will tell."

  "Motherhood has a way of changing women,” Jules said. He grinned. “I should know."

  "Aye, I suppose you should."

  "Mayhap it will be for the better with the Baroness."

  "Mayhaps pigs will learn to fly, as well,” Dek mumbled. “That's far more likely to happen that Ynez becoming a warm and fuzzy bear mama."

  Jules laughed then began telling his cousin a tale of how Seannie's mother had become a fiercely loyal mama bear once the boy was born. They were still discussing Seannie and his mother when the harbor at Drogh-gheay came into view and caught sight of the big red ship lying at anchor there.

  Dek groaned. “That's all the hell I need,” he snarled. “Why the hell can't that man mind his own business and leave me to mine?"

  "He believes you are his business,” Jules replied. “You knew he would show up sooner or later once he received news the Baroness was expecting."

  "Aye, well if it is his intent to take Maire from me, he'd best be prepared for a battle the likes of which his feeble mind can't even consider!” Dek warned. He saw the AnÉilvéis guards at the pier and knew they had already recognized his flag ship. One was pointing at the Céirseach and he groaned.