WINDDREAMER

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

"I'd better see to getting a fire started," Roget remarked, shivering. "It's gonna get colder once the rain stops."

  "If the rain stops," Tyne grumbled.

  "We'll leave for Boreas in the morning," Conar said. "We sure as hell can't stay here." His eyes swept the keep, slipped back to Liza, and saw his own sadness reflected in the emerald depths of her eyes. This was where their love had blossomed, where a young Prince had brought his lady-love to hide her from his father, the King's, wrath. This was where they had come to know one another so well. Where they had spent their honeymoon and the first six months of their marriage. Now, like their marriage, the keep was gone.

  "Let's get going before the sun sets," Duncan warned. "I've no desire to be tramping out there in those caves after dark."

  * * * *

  Storm had saddled Seachange, Conar's black steed, and Duncan's piebald was ready for him also. Riding out of the bailey, the two men had to skirt crumbled stone and stray timber before making their way to the road leading south beyond the keep.

  "How far is the cave?" Conar asked.

  "Two, maybe three miles."

  Conar looked at his brother. "Why didn't you just put the women on your horse and lead it to Ivor?"

  Duncan shook his head. "I wanted to see you first. The women could have been looking for someone not loyal to the Wind Force. I wanted to make sure before I brought a nest of vipers into the keep."

  The men traveled nearly thirty minutes in the buffeting rain and sleet. They were drenched, their hair plastered about their damp faces. The protection of oilskins had done precious little to keep them warm and both men shivered.

  Rounding a bend, Conar barely made out the figures of two women, trudging forward from out of the drenching rain.

  "That's them," Duncan said.

  One woman's head came up. She instantly put out a hand to stop the shorter woman at her side. Before either Duncan or Conar could call out, the women disappeared into the trees.

  "A bit skittish, they are," Duncan informed Conar. "The young one didn't say a solitary word." He put a finger to his ear and made circles in the air. "A bit of brain parts missing, I believe." He looked away from Conar and cupped his hands to his mouth. "Ho, there! It's Duncan! I've come with help, Miladies!"

  Conar saw a pale face peer out from behind a scrub oak tree. The woman studied them as they cantered toward her hiding place. Conar stilled his mount. Squinting, he realized she looked familiar.

  "Where were they heading, Duncan?"

  "Ivor." Duncan dismounted. "She was looking for her husband."

  Smiling, Conar swung his leg over his steed's head and slid to the ground. After tying Seachange's reins to a jutting low branch, he called out to the woman.

  "Mary van de Lar?" He felt Duncan's surprised glance. "It's me, Conar."

  The woman stepped cautiously out from behind the tree, putting up a hand to shield her eyes. "Your Grace? Is that you?"

  Conar laughed. "Aye, Milady. It's me."

  The woman beckoned her companion out of the trees.

  Duncan put his hands on his hips. "Is there a woman in Serenia you do not know, Conar?"

  "Very few." Conar hurried forward to meet the women.

  Following, Duncan snorted when the older woman sank gracefully to a deep curtsy, her head bowed.

  Conar gripped her arms and pulled her to her feet. "I'll have none of that." He hugged the woman. After kissing her cheek, he looked at the younger woman, cowering, head down, trembling with the cold and rain. "Jenny?"

  The girl lifted her head a fraction. A brilliant smile lit her face.

  "Do you remember him, Jenny?" Mary van de Lar asked.

  ----

  Jenny van de Lar was in her early twenties, a pretty blond lass with pale azure eyes and long hair twined in two thick braids that reached to her hips. She stood not more than five feet tall, and possessed dainty features, long golden-brown lashes and a pert, upturned nose. Her complexion in the rain appeared a creamy ivory with just a hint of rosy blush at her cheek from likely both the chill and the excitement touching her pretty eyes. This was a woman who turned heads wherever she went, but her innocent, child-like actions seemed those of the little girl.

  She came to her mother's side and stared at the smiling man, gazing back at her with such beautiful dark eyes. I know this man, Mama, she thought. I know him well. I have dreamed of him all my life.

  She scanned his face, her smile becoming tremulous at the sight of the vivid scars on the man's left cheek. In her child's mind, he was all there had been in life worth living for, and to see him before her after all these years, was like a miracle. She walked past her mother and stopped a foot from him, gazing into his face with shy regard.

  "You do remember me, don't you, mam'selle?" Conar asked, holding out his hand to her.

  Jenny took a partial step back from him, but the tender, gentle look in his warm eyes allayed any fears she might have had. Slowly, she stretched out her hand. As his strong fingers closed around hers, she ducked her head, feeling his touch to the bottom of her soul.

  "Should I be jealous?" the man named Duncan inquired, winking at Mary. "Here I was thinking I'd won the maiden's heart, and all it takes is one look from Conar's blue eyes and..." He stopped, craned his head, and looked into Conar's face. "What happened to your eyes?"

  Jenny had noticed the color change, too, but to her mind, the difference in color had done nothing more than make him seem sadder than when she had first met him. She remembered that day, his strong arms wrapped around her, his protection that she never questioned. When she squeezed his fingers, his smile widened.

  He brought her hand to his lips. "You have grown into a very beautiful woman, Jenny," he whispered. Letting go of her fingers, he turned to her mother. "Did Holm know you were coming?"

  Mary blushed. "No, Milord. I just missed him, that's all."

  "Then we'd better get you out of the rain and where it's warm." Conar put an arm around Mary's shoulder. "If you can ride behind Duncan, I'll take Jenny with me."

  "Ride?" Jenny asked.

  Mary gasped, a shocked expression on her face.

  Not once since Jenny's ordeal more than fifteen years earlier had she spoken a single word to her family. But now Jenny gazed at Conar with confidence and without her customary fear and wariness.

  "Would you like to ride with me, mam'selle?" Conar asked, offering his arm to her.

  "Aye," she said, smiling at her mother's second gasp. "My...pleasure...Highness."

  Jenny'd had this same conversation in her thoughts. This gallant man had ridden his big black destrier to her rescue countless times in daydreams and night ramblings. Many had been the time when he swooped down from a hard gallop to lift her into his saddle, to hold her against him as he rode the wind, his laughter ringing out through the forest. Many had been the night when Jenny had awakened, some unknown need pressing upon her, some nameless desire bringing an ache to her limbs, a lump to her throat.

  In every dream she'd had of this wonderful man, this Prince of the Wind, he'd been her champion, her protector. Now to have his hands lift her, to feel herself behind him on the black stallion, her arms around him, became a dream come true.

  "Then come with me, lady," he whispered. "We will ride the wind!"

  Chapter 9

  * * *

  Inside the stable, a fire blazed beneath a cauldron. People huddled around its warmth, hands extended over the smoldering wood. Another cauldron contained a boiling stew of potatoes, carrots, onions, and turnip roots. With Conar and Duncan's arrival came two rabbits and a squirrel.

  "Not much, but it'll do for tonight," the keep's cook proclaimed as she set down Thom and Bent to clean the animals. What a bit of flour and meal she'd found in Duncan's backpack, along with the spices now flavoring the stew, she'd made a thin bread that lay baking on a layer of flat stones.

  Though ecstatic to see his womenfolk, Holm frowned at their traveling in such weather. "It'll be a miracle if you don't catch your
death, Mary Margaret!" he scolded, drawing her into his embrace.

  "She spoke," Mary whispered in awe as he kissed her. "Our baby spoke to His Grace."

  Holm found Conar smiling at him. He answered the smile with one of his own, his heart aching with love for the man who looked back at him and gave a nonchalant shrug of his wide shoulders.

  ----

  When the two men had brought the ladies back to the keep, Teal du Mer had been rummaging about the rubble with Tyne and Roget. Liza was with them, poking about the fallen timbers for anything they could use. Upon entering the stable behind Roget and Tyne, Liza nearly bumped into Teal, for the gypsy had stopped in his tracks to stare at the lovely young woman sitting on a bale of hay near the fire.

  "Who is that?" he whispered to Sentian.

  "Holm's daughter," Heil answered.

  Teal mouth sagged open as she turned and saw him staring. He felt as though his world had begun to spin at a reckless whirl and he grabbed hold of a ceiling support. No other sounds filled his ear save his wildly thumping heart. He saw no one but her. He started strolling toward her, like a man in a state of sleepwalking. When she smiled at him, he felt as though he had been punched in the gut. He drew in his breath, holding it, struck dumb by the beauty and innocence in her glorious face.

  ----

  Jenny watched the handsome young man sauntering toward her. Beside this black-haired man with the velvet brown eyes, Prince Conar paled in comparison. Her smile deepened, and her heart began to beat so hard she could feel it push against her ribcage. A nervous flutter started in the pit of her stomach and crawled to her throat when his warm, friendly smile stretched over his fine mouth. She wanted nothing more than to have him hold her hand, to whisper of the dream-like things Prince Conar had often said.

  ----

  Holm fixed his gaze on his daughter as she stopped in front of the gypsy. Her face, alight with an inner glow, made him nod. Full of happiness, he turned to his wife. At her hesitant smile, he knew she felt the same--it was past time their daughter grew up. With Teal du Mer-- part child, himself--as her protector, the match seemed favorable.

  Du Mer was gentle, not given to temper tantrums, although sulking was one of his specialties. He had a problem with gambling, but a good woman could squelch that habit. He didn't flit around from woman to woman; his mistresses were clean, sober women, not given to filth or disease. Du Mer, himself, didn't drink to excess or have any foul habits that would not be acceptable. He was good-looking, playful, charming, a rogue that everyone seemed to like. All in all, a good catch.

  And besides, Holm thought with a grin, I'm bigger than him!

  ----

  Liza looked across the stable and saw Legion grinning at her. A pleasant feeling connected them as they observed Teal falling in love for the first time.

  She had always warned the gypsy that when he found that one woman he could not live without, he would fall hard. She also knew Legion had voiced his concern that Teal would never find the kind of woman who would tolerate his boyishness; but Conar had always maintained that when Teal found love, it would hit his old friend like a thunderbolt on a sunny day and stay with him forever.

  Seeing Conar's prediction happening made Liza smile.

  Chapter 10

  * * *

  Long into the night the jovial atmosphere in the stable brought those who had survived the destruction of Ivor Keep an evening of respite from the rainy gloom. Despite the occasional crack of distant thunder and the hammering of rain on the roof, the laughter and joking inside the warm stable had broken the fear of dying they had experienced earlier that day. There might not have been much of stew and bread, but the fare had been savory and as filling as could be expected. There was plenty of well water and a bushel of tart apples stored in the stable for the horses. No one was all that hungry as the night wore on.

  "Have you nothing to say to me?" Duncan asked Legion as he slid down beside his oldest brother. "Patriarch of the family that you are, aren't you suppose to admonish me for being away so long without letting the family know I was alive and well?"

  "It wouldn't do me any good to scold you," Legion said. "You have always had a mind of your own. I know you had reason for leaving."

  "Do you, now?"

  "You ran away from Kaileel Tohre, just as Conar did. You got away." Legion looked across the stable where Conar sat playing chess with Marsh. "He didn't."

  "I'd have taken him with me if I could have, but Papa would've had soldiers hunt us down like stags to ground." A deep look of pain crossed Duncan's features. "Besides, by then it was too late. The damage had already been done."

  "You knew?" Legion felt shock that Duncan had been privy to what had happened to Conar. He thought only Hern had known.

  "Let's just say I suspected." Duncan's black hair was platted in one long braid down the center of his wide shoulders. He shook his head, swung the braid over his right shoulder, and held it up. "Do you remember when you and Brelan tried to cut my hair when I was eight?"

  Legion's smiled. "A mistake such as that I don't think either one of us is likely to ever forget."

  "No man touches what is mine without my permission. Kaileel tried with me, and he failed." His gaze went to Conar. "But I wasn't the one he wanted, anyway."

  "That bastard has hurt a lot of people." Legion nodded toward Chase Montyne. "A lot of people."

  Duncan took up a piece of hay from the floor and twirled it in his fingers. "And he's hurt you in a way only I can see, I think."

  "He never laid a hand on me. I was too wise to what he was. Jah-Ma-El, Galen, Conar...they were not so lucky."

  "Nicholas, too."

  Legion stared at him. "I didn't know."

  Shrugging his massive shoulders, Duncan sighed. "It was not something we talked about. My only regret is that we never told Papa. If we had, maybe something could have been done and Nicky wouldn't have had that son-of-a-bitch's hands on him."

  "Tohre has a lot to answer for."

  "He meant for Conar to suffer the most. It was always Conar with him. His unholy love for our brother was like a spur under his saddle. Once he had the kingdom totally in his power, he'd have brought Conar back in chains, at the mercy of the Domination, and the people would have done anything they were told to do in order to keep Conar safe."

  "He would've held him as ransom for our good behavior and cooperation, you mean?"

  "Exactly. That's why he never allowed any man other than Conar's own kin to wed his woman. He knew the dissension Conar's return would cause. And what better way to hurt our brother than to have you, the man he loved best, wed his woman? Such a realization must have pierced Conar to his very soul."

  Legion looked away, hurt by the words. "I never meant to hurt him."

  "Of course not. But you've only to look into his strange eyes to know how badly the situation torments him." He laid a hand on Legion's thigh. "I'm glad it's not me who keeps him from his heart's desire."

  Legion frowned. "Why do you say that?"

  "You're an intelligent man, A'Lex. How long do you think you can keep them apart? They were destined to be together. No matter how much she loves you or you love her, that love will never equal the god-sent attraction that first brought them--and held them--together."

  Legion ground his teeth. "She is my wife. I will not give her up!"

  "She was his wife, too. Do you really think he has given her up?"

  * * * *

  Well past midnight, the rain stopped at last. The wind lessened and the stars shone down on a cold night. Somewhere far off, a lonely wolf bayed to the heavens in thanksgiving, and a spectral bird chirped in the downed branches of a chinaberry tree.

  Liza made her way around broken furniture and fallen wood, past shattered glass and sodden clothing, heading down to the dungeon. She had awakened to the snores of the men in the stable and had stared at the creaking ceiling beams overhead. Sighing, she had given up trying to sleep, needing solitude she could not find amid a roomful of
people.

  Drawing Legion's woolen great cape around her, she struggled with its bulk and weight, but grew thankful of the warmth. She took a lantern, but picking her way amid the destruction seemed easier than she had thought it would be--a lazy, bright moon shone down on the rubble like a beacon.

  As she stepped off the last riser to the dungeon floor, Liza tensed, hearing the crunch of a footstep behind her. Turning, she saw in the doorway a man silhouetted against the night sky, blotting out the moon's glow.

  "Milord?" she called, putting the lantern on the floor at her feet.

  The man started down the steps toward her, his heavier frame making the stairs creak. Liza recognized Legion in the glow of the candlelight, and hoped she could hide her disappointment. Her thoughts had not been on her husband, but on the one she thought would follow her. She felt shame that her willful mind had imagined Conar's arms around her, holding her in this secret place with tender care.

  Legion stepped off the stairs and faced his wife. "You were expecting him, weren't you? Was he supposed to meet you here?"

  "Legion, please, I don't want to fight."

  "And you don't want to be with me, either, do you? I saw your disappointment. You were sure it was Conar who had come to check on you." He grabbed her arm. "You can't deny it!"

  She wincing as his fingers dug into her arm. "I am with you."

  "But you'd rather be with my brother, wouldn't you?" He shook her, ignoring her gasp of pain.

  "Aye, I am with you."

  "I won't let him have you! I'll fight him to the death before I'll let him take you away from me!"

  "Do you hear what you're saying?" she shouted. "You are that jealous of your own kin?"

  "I have eyes," he snarled down into her face. "I see the way you look at him, the way he looks at you. Everyone sees it! I hear the words you say to each other, but I also hear the words you do not say."