"This ain't a natural storm," Holm van De Lar remarked at the breaking of the fast that morning. "I've ridden out storms many a time in my travels, but this ain't natural."
"Hell-spawned," Jah-Ma-El murmured. "The weather is hell-born."
Conar glanced at his brother and shook his head. "If it were, I'd know it." He speared a thick slice of ham with his fork and laid it on his plate, then reached for the red-eye gravy. "I agree with the good Captain--it isn't natural, but then it isn't evil either."
"How do you explain it, then?" Brelan asked, flinching as thunder shook the keep.
Conar shrugged. "The gods were more than likely bored. I would imagine paradise gets tiresome after a while. So they sent us something to keep us on our toes."
Shalu gave his friend an annoyed look. "You think this weather is a test of our mettle, McGregor?"
"It's a test of something," Tyne snorted. "I sneezed so much yesterday cleaning that gods-be-damned conservatory, I couldn't sleep all night my nose was so stopped up." He cast a hateful look at Legion. "Bright idea, indeed, to clean this lump of stones."
Legion smiled around a mouthful of creamed peas. "You needed the entertainment, Brell."
Tyne snorted. "Entertainment my ass!"
Shalu chuckled. The Necroman wagged his brows at the Chalean Prince. "You white boys have it rough, don't you?"
Conar glanced at Brelan. The atmosphere at the table, despite the howling storm outside, was considerably better than the day before. He smiled, sliced a large portion of freshly baked bread from the platter, and buttered it. Chewing thoughtfully on the mouth-watering morsel, he looked down the table at Legion. "Is Liza better this morning?"
His brother looked up with a slight, annoyed look, but he nodded. "Corbin is with her. She didn't sleep much last night."
"I know." Conar could have kicked himself as soon as the words left his mouth. He saw Legion's mouth tighten, and he felt every man at the table staring at him. He swung his gaze to Brelan, saw the raised-brow stare, and looked down at his plate.
Silence settled at the table. The clink of silverware, the rattle of crystal, the scraping of food across china, filled the quiet. The moment had turned awkward and Conar felt it keenly.
A sharp crack sounded outside.
Every man jumped, turning toward the window. With a piercing shriek and rumble of falling timber, a large tree branch crashed through the pane, billowing the drapes. Shards of glass exploded into the room, scattering across the floor.
Rain poured in through the opening and the wind swept over the dining table. A mighty roar filled the room and the very timbers of the keep began to tremble. Upstairs, a wail of pure terror rose on a trill of prolonged sound.
"Liza!" Conar shouted, shoving aside his chair.
He came around the table at a near-run only to be brought up by Legion's snarl of rage.
A'Lex grabbed his arm, bringing him to a stop. "She's my wife. I'll go up to her!" He swung Conar away and headed for the stairs.
Outside, the air hummed with the mighty rumbling, all light fading from the windows. The wind blew with enough force to stagger the men.
"Tornado!" came the cry, and several rushed for the stairs to the dungeons.
Conar started to follow Legion up the stairs, but Brelan and Shalu both seized him.
"Let go!"
"No," Brelan snapped. "I said no!" he repeated to be heard over the noise. He jerked his brother toward the dungeon stairs.
"I'm going to my lady!" Conar howled, bucking against their hold.
"You got no business going up there," Shalu said in a fierce, booming voice. His hold tightened as Conar tried to jerk away his arm. "Be still, McGregor!"
The two men yanked Conar toward the stairs, ignoring his vile cursing.
"Damn it," Conar shouted, his face contorting with fear for the woman he loved. "Let me go to her!"
A sudden clatter down the other stairway made the men pause and turn. Brelan heaved a sigh of relief as Corbin ran past him, his hand pulling one of the young servant girls.
Behind them, Legion carried Liza in his arms, shouting for them to hurry. "The roof sounds like it's going!" he yelled, toting Liza down the narrow passageway and skipping heavily down the stairs.
Overhead, a wrenching, cracking vibration began. Ceiling plaster rained down.
"Get below!" Brelan yelled, shoving Conar in the small of his back, pushing Shalu along with him down the stairs. He stopped as the others fled to safety and shot the bolt on the door, turned, and skipped as fast as he could down the steps.
"Regan!" Corbin screamed.
"He's here!" Marsh Edan yelled.
Huddled in the depths of the cold and damp dungeon, they heard the crashing, shattering fall of the ancient structure above. The piercing scream of tortured timber and crumbling stone made speech impossible. Hands pressed tightly over ears, bodies huddled against other bodies, heads lowered as the keep's inhabitants sheltered themselves from the terror above. The violent moaning of the wind sent shivers down Conar's spine, and the rumble of the passing funnel shook the ground at his feet.
"Sweet Merciful Alel," Sentian prayed, his hands folded in prayer. "Don't let us die here like this."
Conar stared intently at Liza several feet away, his nerve-endings rubbed raw by her fear. He saw her clinging to Legion, trembling against him, and actually heard her whimpers of terror. His hands itched to take her to him; his heart ached to comfort her. He found Legion glaring at him, and returned the look.
----
Brelan glanced up as a tremendous crash sounded overhead, but the two men staring at one another drew his rapt attention. Conar's face was filled with worry, clouded with longing; Legion's face was set in hard lines of anger, as if he dared Conar to try and take what he would not be allowed to have.
Saur's gaze went down to Liza. He saw her lips moving, and knew she was praying. A part of him wanted to comfort her, too, just as he had many years earlier when, on a night such as this, he had sown his own seed in the belly of the woman they all loved more than life itself.
He laughed bitterly to himself. The four of them--Conar, Galen, Legion, himself--had each suffered untold agonies to have Elizabeth Wynth as their own. Conar had been tortured for his wanting; Galen had died for his. Watching Legion and Conar facing one another was painful to see, for Brelan knew the final wedge was being driven between his two brothers and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
As quickly as the disaster had been visited upon Ivor, it passed just as fast. The wind ceased; the rain stopped; the rumbling fled. Above the dungeon, the settling of broken timbers, destroyed walls and furnishings, ground to a halt. All went still, the dust floating down from the ceiling the last reminder of the storm's passing.
"Is everyone all right?" Brelan asked, coming to his feet to dust off his breeches. Around him, others began to stand, to look around with dazed, confused eyes. Here and there Brelan heard a muffled sob as one of the women gained her feet, supported by one of the men.
"Anyone hurt?" Chase asked, helping up Jah-Ma-El.
"I don't think so," Brelan answered, seeing a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing that looked like it needed immediate care. "We were gods-be-damned lucky."
----
Conar stared at the tableau before him. Legion unclenched his hand from Liza's hair, stroked the gleaming ebon tresses, and whispered to her. Gently he eased her from him, tilted up her head, and planted a soft kiss on her brow.
Every nerve in Conar's body screamed at him to jerk her from Legion's arms and hold her. He ached to assure himself that she was still intact. He had to clench his jaw to keep from shouting, had to dig his nails into his palms to keep them to himself.
"Conar."
He found Brelan close beside him. He stared at his brother, his hopelessness, his helplessness, his pain likely easy to see.
"I know." Brelan put his hand on Conar's shoulder.
Conar drew in a hitching breath and turned away, sh
aking his head to clear it of treacherous thoughts. "Let's see how it looks upstairs," he snapped, pushing past Grice and Chand Wynth, hugging each other in obvious relief that they had survived the tempest.
Something heavy had lodged against the door. Even with Bent straining with all his brute force, the wood wouldn't budge.
"You had to shut it, didn't you?" Conar snarled as Brelan added his shoulder to the planking.
"I didn't think," Brelan answered, heaving. He looked at the others. "Anyone have an idea how we're going to get out of here?"
"There's a light," Paegan remarked, pointing to the ceiling.
Everyone looked up and frowned. The light was a good seventy or eighty feet straight up the dungeon's air shaft, a tight, circular chamber of staggered brick.
"And how are we supposed to get up there?" Holm snapped.
Tyne sighed. "Since none of us can fly, we'll have to climb."
"No one can climb up there!" Legion growled. He drew Liza to her feet and brought her to where the others stood.
Conar craned his neck to see up the shaft. He gauged the distance, tested the hold of the brick, pulling on the stones. "I can."
"The hell you can!" Legion yelled. "You never could climb the trees by the training ground when you were a boy, so why do you think you can climb this? You'd fall and break your damned fool neck!"
"I can do it." Conar began to take off his boots.
"I don't know," Rylan said. "That's a pretty steep climb." He looked up the shaft. "It looks slick as shit."
"Stop trying to play hero!" Legion snorted. "We'll find another way out."
Conar ignored his brother. He took off his heavy woolen socks, began to roll up the cuffs of his breeches over his ankles.
"Damn it, listen to your brother!" Marsh grumbled. "No man can make that climb."
Conar looked back at Marsh with a steady stare. "Get out of my way."
Legion let go of Liza. He grabbed Conar's shoulder, spinning him around. "You're not doing this and that's all there is to it!"
Conar slapped away the hand and came nose to nose with Legion, sneering. "I can make the gods-be-damned climb, A'Lex! I was trained to make it. I don't give a damn whether you have any confidence in my doing so or not. Get the hell away from me and let me do my job!" He reached up for the archway of bricks and swung himself into the airway shaft before anyone could stop him.
Legion poked his head into the shaft. "Conar!"
Already a good six feet above his brother, Conar clung to the brick and attempted to wedge his bare toes into a section of crumbled mortar.
"Get your ass back down here!"
Conar continued upward. The sharp edges of the bricks cut into his toes. Blood from the cuts added additional slipperiness to the already slick stones. His nails dug into the loose mortar, his fingertips being gouged unmercifully by the crumbling sand and breakaway brick. Pulling himself up became more difficult than he had imagined. It hadn't been that long ago since he'd been bedridden, weak, unable to stand without assistance. He had been training before the rains, but the last week or so had seen precious little activity to keep him in shape. Panting, gritting his teeth to the pain in his fingertips and toes, he struggled to make it from one brick to another.
He stopped climbing to catch his breath. Leaning his head on the slimy brick, he winced at the moisture on his flesh. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mist forming. He swiveled his head to look at the illusion that began to waver in the darkness.
Ching-Ching's little monkey face came out of the black, grinning, mocking. "Little bird believes he can climb, does he?"
"Damned straight!" Conar bit out from between his teeth.
"One day, one cliff. Two day, two cliff. We see how little bird do. If teacher satisfied..."
"Leave," Conar mumbled, blinking to wash away the sweat dripping down his face. He drew in three heavy breaths before he started up again. By his reckoning, he was thirty feet from the top of the airshaft. He could already feel a cool wind flowing down the walls.
"Little bird not up to climb?" The sing-song voice grew malicious.
"I can do it!" Conar growled. He gripped the stone ledge before him and tried for purchase with his throbbing toe. His foot slipped, dragging his nail down the brick. He yelped, then heard his name cried from below, the sound reverberating off the stone. "Knock it off!" he whispered, again hearing the echo of his name spiraling up to him.
"Little bird not concentrate on task before him. Not wise of little bird to let mind wander."
Clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth until he could actually hear the sound inside his skull, Conar dug his fingernails into the mortar and gouged a handhold until he could get his bleeding foot up to another section of stable brick.
----
"How far up is he?" Legion asked, his arm around Liza's shoulder.
"Twenty-five, thirty feet, I think. It's starting to rain again." Roget drew in his head, his face wet with raindrops.
"That will make it harder to climb," Liza whispered. She felt Legion's arm tighten around her. "It'll make the mortar even more slimy, the bricks slippery."
"It's so close in there," Corbin said, looking at the diameter of the shaft. "How can he stand it?"
Up until that moment, no one including Liza had even thought of the danger of the confined space for Conar. Their main concern had been the treachery of the climb. With Corbin's innocuous question, Liza drew in a fearful breath, as did the others around her.
Legion pushed her into Brelan's arms and moved Roget out of the way. He craned his neck up the airshaft. "Be careful!"
----
There was no thought in Conar's own mind about the constriction of the tunnel. The tight space held no fear for him. The height bothered him a little, but his need to make the climb, to get out of the dungeon, to get out the others, remained his primary concern. That he bled from his fingers and toes, and from a vicious scrape on his left knee which had torn a hole in his breeches, didn't even register in his mind. He concentrated only on putting up one hand, followed by a foot, inching his way out of the shaft.
Conar, hurry...
He stopped, hearing Liza's voice in his mind, feeling her fear for him. Her love touched him like a caress. He closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth of her caring. He could see her in his mind, being held in Brelan's arms, her sweet face pale with worry, her slender body trembling.
It's all right, he told her, though his lips didn't move. I'm all right. I can do this, Sweeting.
Be careful, beloved...
"Little bird put mind on climb, not woman!" Ching-Ching ordered.
Conar shook his head to clear the vision. He gripped the brick with renewed strength and began to climb again. Soon he came within ten or so feet from the top, within sight of fallen timbers around the airshaft's opening. Idly, he wondered how much of the roof remained and how difficult it would be to get down to the jammed dungeon door.
"Little bird got up, little bird get down!" Ching-Ching mocked, his wizened monkey face crinkled with humor. "Little bird did not forget his lessons." The sound of spectral clapping echoed in the airshaft.
"You taught me well," Conar sighed as he gained the opening.
"You learned well, my son." Ching-Ching's apparition dissolved.
The roof was caved in all the way to the main floor. There was a twenty-foot drop down the side of the airshaft that could not be repelled. The sides of the tunnel were slick with no jutting brick, no dimpled mortar, while broken glass, jagged splinters of wood, and twisted iron ringed the base of the structure.
"Great," Conar snarled. "Just great."
Perched on the wide rim of the airshaft, he looked out over the destruction of Ivor Keep and felt a bitter arrow of hurt go through him. This had been the place where he had been conceived; where he and Liza had consummated their love night after night. Gone was nearly everything recognizable about the ancient keep. Left was a pile of tumbled stone, cracked timbers with their broken splinters of
aging wood jutting toward the heavens, crushed furniture, and scattered glass.
"Hello up there!"
With a start that almost propelled him backward into the shaft, Conar jerked his contemplation to the ground.
A stranger stood amid the rubble, his hand shielding his eyes from the pelting rain, his feet planted wide apart. "Going to sit up there all day, are you?"
"You gonna tell me how to get down?" Conar shot back.
"You need help?"
"It would be nice!" Conar shivered from the cold around him. The rain cascaded down the collar of his black shirt and plastered his hair to his scalp. His fingers and toes throbbed with agony. He wrapped his arms around himself to gain some warmth.
"How'd you get up there in the first place?" the man called, putting his hands on his hips.
"I climbed! How the hell do you think I got up here?"
"Had nothing better to do with your time, eh?"
Conar wished he had something he could throw at the bastard.
"Can't climb down though, can you?"
Confining the man, his ancestors, his horses, and his gonads to the Pit, Conar's lips drew back over his teeth. "You gonna help or not?"
The man shrugged. "I guess I could." He rummaged through the rubble. Finding nothing, he walked over the destroyed timbers of the great hall and ran down a mountain of piled stones to the outer bailey.
"Where the hell are you going?" Conar shouted.
"Looking for a ladder."
Conar's brow shot up. There had to be one about somewhere. He craned his neck, looking out over the bailey. He spied what he thought could well be a ladder and pointed, drawing the man's attention. "By the stable. To the left of the trough."
Nodding, the man waded through the debris. "I found it!" He hefted the ladder and began dragging it toward the airshaft.
"It isn't tall enough," Conar yelled.
The stranger gauged the ladder's height, then lay it down on the rubble. "I can pile up some wood, brace it until you get down." He began to stack fairly good lumber at the base of the shaft, then lifted the ladder once more.
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