WINDDREAMER

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  "Then send Regan the signal. Now! What must be done must be done before Conar is so powerful neither of us will be useful against him. You can feel the power growing, can't you? Did you not tell me you knew the exact moment in which he and that slut were reunited?"

  Kaileel's face blanched. He turned from the Webspinner. Aye, he had known. He had felt the passion flowing from Conar to the bitch, a passion that should have come to him, to Kaileel. The moment had been one of the most heartbreaking in his long life.

  "Tohre, will you dally while he gains power we can only guess at? They are together again--his power to hers, hers to his. Not only have they mated--"

  "Shut up!" Kaileel put his hands over his ears. "I will not hear of it!"

  "It hurts, doesn't it?" Raja cooed, sauntering close. "To know that after all you did, he still wants her instead of you. You hurt him, Tohre. You humiliated him. Did that not satisfy your lust for him?"

  Kaileel spun around, fixing her with a glare that should have reduced her to cinders. "You couldn't tempt him, either, could you, bitch? You could not tempt him to your bed, so you drugged him to have your way with him. You stole a child from his loins. Why wasn't that enough for you?" Tohre grinned maliciously at the blush that stained her high cheekbones.

  "No man turns me down, Kaileel Tohre!" she spat, her blue eyes flashing fire. "I will see him on his knees for casting me aside for that whore in Boreas!"

  "You murdered his plaything, or have you so conveniently forgotten that little matter?" Kaileel smirked. "Perhaps if you had told him of his wife's betrayal in a more--shall we say, delicate way--he might have come to you for comfort. Had you slain the Chrystallusian bitch in such a way that he did not know you were the cause of it, Conar might well have aligned himself with you. But then again, he never cared much for your wiles, either, did he, Raja?"

  She clenched her teeth and lifted her chin, staring down her nose at the sorcerer. "I could have had him if you had not warped him when he was but a babe!"

  "It was you who corrupted him, bitch!" Kaileel pointed a finger at her. "Why is it he had such a low opinion of women before meeting that whore he calls his beloved?"

  The Webspinner's beautiful face hardened, took on the gleam of deadly steel. "What I want, I always get, Tohre. It might take me a while, but I am closer to having Conar McGregor in the palm of my hand than you will ever be!"

  "How? Will you ply him with your potions again?" Tohre hands itched to grip the white column of her throat and squeeze until no life remained in the witch's body. He loathed the very sight of her.

  "Will you?" Raja cooed. "In order to have him, you resorted to drugs and lies and deceit, as well as murder. What difference is there in the way we each tried to take him?"

  "I did no murder," Kaileel snapped, waving a hand in dismissal.

  "What of his daughter? What of Nadia?"

  Kaileel snorted. "That was not my doing."

  Raja blinked. "It wasn't?"

  "Why would I lie? The babe was of no concern to me!"

  "Then who was responsible?"

  "I do not know, nor do I care."

  She shook her head. "But you drugged him, nevertheless. When he balked at joining you, you had him falsely charged with sedition. You had him flogged, even took the whip yourself when he had not suffered as greatly as you wanted him to." She sneered. "You were the one who scarred his once-handsome face!"

  "He deserved punishment."

  "Just as he deserved being exiled to that hell-hole?"

  "It taught him humility," Tohre reasoned. "It taught him that he was not above the law as he thought."

  "Yet after all you have made the man suffer, is your vengeance satisfied?"

  "Is yours?"

  Raja's face filled with disgust. "Do you think I would be here if my thirst for him had been quenched?"

  Kaileel glowered at her. With the insight he had into the darkness of other people's souls, he saw the similarity between this woman and himself. They both wanted the same thing: Conar McGregor. And neither of them could obtain him through normal means. Each had used magic and evil to bring the young prince to them, and each had failed abysmally. Each had pushed Conar farther away in trying to bring him closer.

  Raja lowered her voice to a soft croon. "Neither of us will ever have him other than with the combined use of our powers to fight his. You want him humbled as much as I do. You want his soul, I want his body. We both want his defeat, his ultimate destruction. We have the means in our hands." She held up a fist. "We can crush him, Tohre. We can have him groveling at our feet before we drain the stubbornness from him. Tell me that is not what you want."

  Tohre felt astonishment. "You want him dead?"

  Raja shook her head, outwardly exasperated. "Not in the sense you mean, but dead to those around him. Once you have taken his soul, what is left will be mine to command. I can make him docile, accepting of his plight. You will have what you want, I will have what I desire."

  For a moment, Tohre continued to stare at her, seeing past the smiling, seductive beauty into the pitch-black soul deep within her. He saw her evil as surely as he felt his own. Given other circumstances, he supposed, the two of them might well have been allies, lovers even, had she been a male. He could sense her overpowering desire to destroy the essence of their common enemy, their common love.

  "Will you let him win, Tohre?"

  "No."

  "They have invested that milksop wife of his with the powers of the Wind Force. Her powers--"

  "Bah! No woman is a worthy adversary for the might of the Domination!"

  "Do not say I didn't warn you, Kaileel! You refuse to see the possibilities of Elizabeth A'Lex's power. It's a failing that could spell disaster and might be your undoing! But if you will not guard yourself against the bitch, that is your business. I will not make the same mistake!"

  "Do what you will. Joust at ghostlings, if you must, but I will save my energy for Conar, alone!"

  "Then send the message to Regan! The time is at hand." With a coy lowering of her lashes, she jabbed home the final dagger. "Or are you afraid Conar has become too powerful for you to handle?"

  "I am afraid of no man!"

  "Then be done with it!" Raja yelled, spittle flying in Tohre's astonished face. "Bring him to his knees! Destroy him. Now!"

  Warning voices inside Tohre's brain told him to ignore the challenge, cautioned him to restrain and delay, shouted a denial of what he was setting, too soon, in motion. The thought kept tumbling before him that the time was not right, the day not yet come in which to do battle with Conar McGregor.

  But the smirk on Raja's face needled him.

  "So be it," he spat from between clenched teeth. "I will send the message!"

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  The rain had not stopped. If anything, it had grown worse. The entire countryside surrounding Ivor Keep turned into a virtual quagmire. Rivulets of muddy water seeped through the old stones of the keep; the entire place stank of mold and mildew. As gloomy and overcast as the sky, so, too, seemed the temperaments of the keep's inhabitants. Many a fight had lashed out among the men, and even among the few serving women. Insults grew commonplace, and since tempers ran so short, words became few.

  Alone in his room, with only his thoughts to keep him comfortable, Conar would stare out the window at the falling rain. He had moved from his tower prison to the room he had used as a child when visiting Ivor Keep. In this room, he felt safe.

  Often he would go to where Corbin now slept by himself. Since learning of the cruelties Regan had practiced on his older half-brother, Conar placed his youngest boy in a room near Marsh, giving his old friend orders to act as sole guardian to the angry child. When told he could no longer have access to Corbin's room and would be accountable to Edan for his actions, Regan fought and spat like a were-tiger.

  "You want to get rid of me, but you can't!" Regan screamed at his father. "You are the reason I am here!"

  "And what reason w
ould that be?" Sentian asked.

  Regan turned on the warrior, Elizabeth A'Lex's Sentinel. "Go to hell! I don't have to answer to a servant!"

  But Conar held firm and exiled the boy to the servant's wing, ordering all access to the keep proper "off limits" to Regan. The boy had been taken, kicking and screaming, to the back of the keep where servants gave him a wide berth. As for Corbin, Conar spent at least an hour of the day with him, getting to know him.

  Liza would often find their blond heads bent over a game of chess or dominoes, their laughter ringing out in a keep where laughter had mildewed along with the walls. It was not uncommon to hear them whispering, telling jokes to one another, recounting secrets. Neither seemed to notice the gloom that had settled around the ancient keep like fallen leaves.

  * * * *

  Well into the second week of his forced isolation, Regan tried unsuccessfully to gain access to the upper rooms where his brother stayed. Caught sneaking up the stairs, Regan threw a tantrum that resulted in having Conar come to see him.

  "Don't try that again," Conar warned, putting his hand on the belt at his waist. "You've been told you can not see your brother."

  "Go ahead," Regan taunted. "Beat me. It won't be the first time I've been whipped."

  Conar's lids flickered, but he said nothing. When Regan clamped his lips shut and turned his back, Conar sighed. "Just because Tohre tried to make you into one of his own, doesn't mean you have to stay one of his own."

  Regan turned, glaring at Conar, hating the way his father looked at him. Seeing the pity on Conar's face hardened Regan's heart. He lifted his chin. "I'd rather be one of Tohre's than be here with you!"

  Conar nodded. "Before the actual battle begins, I might well send you back to Tohre, if that's what you want. You have no place here with that attitude."

  Regan saw distrust and revilement in his father's face, which added fuel to his hatred. His father would keep that lily-livered Corbin with him and send his other son away. "Whatever," Regan snapped, turning from the look of annoyance on his father's face.

  * * * *

  Two days later, the Elite who did Tohre's bidding, who had long ago and through devious magic been installed to keep tabs on Conar for the Domination, handed a small slip of paper to Regan.

  "How did you come by this?" Regan asked suspiciously, recognizing Tohre's personal seal.

  "The Master has his way and I have mine," the Elite answered.

  Regan stared hard into the face of the messenger, a man he knew all too well. "You are one of his most trusted."

  "Aye, but sometimes all is not as it seems, eh?"

  Regan nodded his understanding. "You have reason to hate him, too."

  "Be careful, little prince. The Master is counting on you."

  Regan took the paper to the window, broke the seal, and stared at the symbol scrawled across its surface. It was the sign for which he had been waiting--a black bird with an arrow through its breast.

  Chapter 6

  * * *

  Legion sat watching Conar. Little had really changed in his brother's appearance over the years. His hair might have silver strands running through the thick gold, but it was still lustrous and healthy-looking. He was more muscular, with a wiry strength that set well on his six-foot frame. The eyes, however, had changed. No longer the color of a warm summer's day, the dark blue orbs spoke more about the changes in the man than did his words or actions.

  They were hard eyes, cold at times, much like the man--stubborn. There was rigidity about Conar, an arrogance that was no longer the insolent self-importance of a young prince destined to rule his people. The arrogance now had been honed from adversity.

  "Conar expects to be obeyed," Brelan had remarked that morning when Tyne balked at doing a particular chore. "There isn't ever a doubt in his mind that those around him will do exactly as he wills."

  "Aye," Jah-Ma-El agreed. "Sometimes wrong, but never in doubt."

  Now, Legion let out a ragged breath and turned away from his secret scrutiny of his brother, trying to clear his mind. He admitted that Conar was still handsome, despite the livid scars on his left cheek. If anything, those scars seemed to add to the man's mystery, to bespeak his suffering and, in doing so, give the observer the notion that this man had earned the right to be respected. The very dangerousness about him, the sensual, I-don't-give-a-damn-whether-you-like-me-or-not attitude served only to make Conar more noticeable. Of course, few people didn't notice him first when they entered a room. If he wasn't noticed, it was because the looker just didn't want to see him. Conar stood out in a crowd whether he chose to or not.

  "How do I compete with that?" Legion once asked Roget. "I don't have his power or presence. Why would Liza choose me over a man such as he?"

  "Because she loves you," Roget had answered.

  "It's getting worse out there," Jah-Ma-El remarked, startling Legion out of his revelry.

  Legion looked at his brother. "How's the sky look?"

  Jah-Ma-El shook his head. "Black as night and the wind's kicking up. Tornado weather."

  "I'd better go up to Liza." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Conar watching him and turned to look. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Bad weather coming."

  Conar nodded.

  "I'll get the windows shuttered," Jah-Ma-El said.

  Just as the last window was locked, its shutters in place, the full force of the storm hit them like an avalanche of stones. The sky had turned an ugly purple, darkened to black, and was now an eerie green-tinged ebon. Howling gusts of wind shrieked around the keep and turned the air inside frigid. The rap of hailstones hitting the windows and roof grew loud and battering. As lightning spat toward the earth with its fiery tongues of death, the rooms flared with filtered white light through the slats of the shutters. Heavy booms of thunder shook the windows and rattled the chandeliers.

  Conar stood with his forearm along the mantle and gazed into the leaping flames that sputtered with the fall of rain down the flue. His thoughts dwelled on the woman upstairs. He knew what this kind of violent tempest could do to her nerves. He could feel her fear radiating down to him in waves of pure terror. His body trembled with each quake of her own and he ached to go to her, to take her in his arms and comfort her, to hide her from the storm she so feared. He had to grind his teeth to keep from screaming out his frustration that he could do none of those things.

  Brelan glanced up from his chair. "Are you all right?"

  Conar nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He prodded a log with the toe of his boot.

  "She's not alone," Brelan gently reminded him. "She'll be all right."

  Conar turned away, his hands doubled into fists. A sharp rip of lightning sang through the air outside. Conar jumped, his attention going to the shuttered window. In a moment, hard thunder rolled overhead and he could take the strain no longer. He pushed away from the mantle.

  "Don't," Brelan warned.

  "She's nearly out of her mind with terror, Brelan."

  "I'll go."

  "You went once before, didn't you?" came the sarcastic reply.

  "She needed me that night," Brelan said in his defense, although guilt stained his lean cheeks.

  Conar nodded, ashamed he'd brought up the past. "I'm sorry, I didn't--"

  Brelan got up. "I'll go check on her."

  "Don't you trust me?"

  "Do you trust yourself?"

  Conar looked away. His shoulders slumped as he walked to Brelan's abandoned chair and sat. He laid his head along the velvet and stared at the ceiling. "Check on Corbin, too, will you?"

  * * * *

  In their bedroom, Legion held his trembling wife, pressing her head close to his chest so she could not see lightning through the shutters. His arms locked her against his massive chest, his hand buried in her hair as he crooned meaningless words to shut out the terrible noise spewing from the heavens. He heard her frantic breathing and felt the heavy thud of her hammering heart against his ribcage as she plastered her
body to his with every clap of thunder. Her flesh felt clammy.

  When the discreet knock came at the door, Legion warily looked up. His clipped "Enter" left no doubt he expected the intruder to be Conar. His face relaxed only a small bit when he saw Brelan instead.

  "I just wanted her to know I checked on Corbi. He's sleeping like a baby." Brelan smiled. "Wish I could."

  Legion relaxed. He bent his head down to his wife. "Did you hear that? Didn't I tell you Corbi could sleep through an earthquake?"

  Liza nodded against his chest, flinching as another sinister burst of lightning cracked outside. She whimpered and gripped him tighter.

  "Thanks," Legion told Brelan.

  Brelan nodded and quietly closed the door behind him.

  * * * *

  Conar jumped when Brelan touched his arm. Deep in thought, he had not heard his brother return. "How is she?"

  Brelan squeezed Conar's arm. "Legion's doing everything that can be done for her right now."

  Lowering his head, Conar used the heels of his palms to rub at his tired eyes.

  "Can't you sleep?"

  Conar sighed. "Not as long as she's like this. I feel every tremor in her body, Bre."

  "I almost suggested Legion sing to her." Brelan smiled when Conar scowled at him. "Like I said, I almost suggested he sing to her!"

  "It's a good thing you didn't." Conar grinned and laid his head on the chair. "We want the lady calm, not driven mad. Thanks."

  "For what?"

  "For giving me something to smile about." The smile on his face tightened as another sharp bolt of lightning hit somewhere close, but the thought of Legion singing to Liza to soothe her softened it again.

  Chapter 7

  * * *

  The storm still raged at morning time. The wind had not ceased its incessant howling, nor had the lightning forking down from the heavens lessened in intensity. The entire keep awoke edgy and gruff, everyone continuously watching the darkened skies.