WINDREAPER

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  "So it's just one man leading you, then?"

  Roget grinned. "We all have worn the uniform of the Dark Overlord of the Wind. We did that to confuse Tohre's men and throw them into chaos." He chuckled. "It worked, too."

  "You know there's a stiff bounty on his head, don't you? Kaileel has declared the Darkwind a fugitive of the Tribunal."

  Roget's face split into a smug grin. "He's a burr under Tohre's saddle, that's for sure!"

  "But who is he? I mean, the leader."

  "I can't and I won't tell you. I will, however, tell you he's a nobleman. Someone, like me, who was cast out of his homeland and sent to the Labyrinth on trumped up charges just like the rest of us. He became our leader because he is the strongest. He's a man worth following, worth dying for. There's nothing we wouldn't do for him, Teal."

  "Do you think he would allow me to join him? To fight for him?"

  There was a quick shake of Roget's head. "Not to fight for him, brat, but maybe beside him."

  "Will you ask?"

  Roget got up from the straw bale. "We'll see." He made his way to the back of the stable and entered a dark stall.

  Teal's brows drew together. "What's back there?"

  "Come and find out!"

  Puzzled by his brother's odd behavior, Teal watched him fumble with one of the boards at the back of the stall. A click sounded and the back portion of the stall moved inward.

  "Secret passages!" Teal breathed, the little boy and the gypsy in him overjoyed with the prospect. He followed Roget through the low doorway.

  Two men stood just inside the door. In the faint light cast by a single taper on a table, their faces were hard, alert, and deadly. Teal felt them watching him for any sign of betrayal, and he shuddered. He sensed they would have gutted him for sure had he found this passage on his own.

  Once inside a room set into the mountain behind the stable, Roget took his brother's arm. The room beyond was in total darkness, but, near where they stood, a darker shadow seemed to hover lower.

  "We're not alone," Roget said.

  Teal couldn't see through the darkness, but he strained to do so. He became aware of a dim outline just off to one side, and in his heart he knew that darker shape was none other than the man he had been sent to find.

  "I will vouch for this man, Milord," Roget said. "He's my little brother, Teal."

  A scratchy, deadly, deep voice rasped from the darkness. "It's been a long time since you've seen him, Hawk. Do you trust him?"

  Roget's hand tensed on Teal's arm. "With my life."

  Again the rasping, expressionless voice. "Why have you come looking for me, du Mer?"

  Teal swallowed. That voice was as cold as the ice on Mount Serenia. "To see if what I have suspected was true."

  There was a slight pause. "That being?"

  Teal looked at Roget, saw his brother nod, and took courage from Roget's faith in the man sitting in the dark.

  "That you have been helping my people, Lord Darkwind. My brother tells me you and the others are fighting the Domination. I will help you any way I can." He would have taken a step closer, but Roget stopped him.

  Venom filled the rasping voice. "You have your brother back, du Mer. Why should you care about what happens now?"

  Teal flinched. That voice seemed to hate him, and he wondered why. "I do have my brother back, that's true. But that's not all the Domination took from me, Milord. It took the best part of my life. It stole from me my best friend, a man who meant more to me than anything in this life after Roget. If I can help destroy Kaileel Tohre, I will!"

  "What man was that?" the voice grated. "Surely Hawk has told you that all your friends were returned from the Labyrinth."

  "The man I speak of is long gone, Milord. There'll be no bringing him back. He died at the hands of the Tribunal. His death left a gaping wound in our land and his people still mourn him." Teal's chin rose in challenge. "I mourn him."

  Only a rasping breath through what sounded like thick cloth came across the room. Time stretched out, ticking away, then, the rasping stopped and a chilling gruffness shot forth. "Who was this man of whom you speak?"

  Teal felt Roget's fingers tightening on his arm. "Conar McGregor, Milord. The rightful heir to the Serenian throne. I know you've heard of him."

  A dark laugh came from the blackness. "Aye, I have heard of him."

  "He would not have allowed his people to suffer the way they have these last nine years. If he had lived, he would be fighting beside you."

  "You believe this?"

  "I do!"

  "And you have remained faithful to this man's memory after all this time?" There was scathing disbelief in the words.

  "That I have, Lord Darkwind."

  "Why?" The question was like a snap of lightning.

  "Because I loved him, sir," came the equally succinct answer. "I failed him once, I let him down, and I am atoning for that. But I will hold his memory sacred for the rest of my life!"

  Again the silence stretched out. Teal could feel the sweat running down his sides. He heard the scraping of a chair, and as the man stood up, the dark outline along the far wall grew.

  "You may tell A'Lex his friends from the Labyrinth are safe and well. He won't be able to recognize them or find them unless they wish for him to do so. Tell him if he tries, if he hinders us in any way, he will pay dearly. Tell him to send no more spies; we are doing what he should have been doing these past nine years!"

  Teal finally heard emotion in that scratchy voice. "He won't try, Milord. As long as he knows you're helping, he'll make sure his men leave you alone. He'll do everything he can to protect you and the others. He wants your success as much as you do."

  There was a harsh, mocking laugh. "I don't think so, du Mer!"

  Teal felt anger. "He won't hinder you, Milord."

  "I have no fear that he will. I'd kill him before I allowed him to get in our way. If even one of my men is compromised because of Legion A'Lex, I'll know where my blade will come calling!"

  A faint outline of light came as a second doorway opened. Two guards flanked the Darkwind and Teal knew the man was about to leave. He wanted to assure him of his loyalty, but Liza's words came to him instead.

  "Lord Darkwind!" Teal said.

  The shape turned and Teal saw two glowing eyes in the darkness. He shuddered, stepped back from the refracted light in those alien eyes.

  "Well?"

  "The Queen asked that I give you a message should I meet you."

  The dark outline stiffened, but the man did not speak.

  "What did she say?" Roget asked, his voice filled with an odd inflection.

  "She told me to give the Darkwind her best wishes; to tell him she wished him well."

  Harsh, contemptible laughter came from the Darkwind, laughter so hard and telling it flashed through Teal's soul. It was frightful to hear and somehow lethal in its intensity. The man was still laughing as the door closed behind him.

  "One word of warning, little brother," Roget said later as they made their way from the stable to where Teal's horse was hidden. "Don't ever mention Her Highness to him again."

  "Why not?" Teal asked, surprised.

  "If you value your life, just don't!"

  Chapter 4

  * * *

  His hands slid through her thick ebony hair and he brought her mouth to his. Her body molded to him, pressed intimately, knowledgeably, to the hard length of his and ground against him. His fingers tightened in her hair and his tongue flicked out with lightning raids at her parted lips, touched her own questing tongue.

  "Now," she begged, her throaty voice husky with desire. "Take me now."

  "Not yet," he mumbled against her lips.

  She was on fire for want of him. His shaft was like steel along her lower belly and she felt her knees going weak as his right hand molded itself over her naked breast.

  "Please!" Her voice was thick, full of need. She pushed herself against him and groaned when he pulled back, denying he
r sensitive pubic region access to his hard thigh.

  "You can wait," he told her. His fingers squeezed her breast, his thumb rubbing insistently across the swollen nipple.

  Her arms tightened around his neck for a moment before her hand slid upward to thread its fingers through his silky hair. She pressed her mouth against his and thrust her tongue deeply inside, enjoying the low chuckle that erupted from the back of his throat.

  He pulled his lips free. "Eager little slut, aren't you?"

  His voice was raspy, tinged with a strange accent she couldn't identify, for it was like none she could ever remember hearing. There was a hardness to his playful tone, an intended insult in his easy words, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to be lying beneath him, to have him thrusting into her eager body as he had done many times in the past.

  "Don't make me ache like this!" she pleaded, moving against him. "Why do you make me ache like this?"

  His laugh was almost evil, she thought, as his hands moved to her buttocks. He cupped the high-rounded mounds and lifted her with ease, pulling her up his body until her legs went around his hips. She pressed herself to his naked strength.

  "You want it?" he mumbled against her mouth.

  Her throat closed as she felt him prodding at the juncture of her thighs. "Yes!" she breathed, arching against him. "Yes!"

  He pushed her against the wall, bracing her clinging body so he could put one hand down to his shaft. She felt his fingers scorching her as he guided his steel manhood to her eager lips. When he thrust into her, hard and savagely, she screamed her pleasure and clamped the muscles of her vagina around the velvety invasion of his body.

  "I love you," she told him as he began to stroke deeply within her.

  "Sure you do," he answered, never breaking his rhythm. His hips arched upward, his strong legs giving push to the thrusts.

  "I do, Lord Darkwind," she whispered against his cheek. "I love you."

  A snort of laughter came from him. He turned her around with him, walked to the bed, and fell with her, his weight nearly crushing her as he came down hard. He never broke contact with her as he scooted their joined bodies up the bed. He positioned her so he could brace his feet against the footboard and he drove into her hard enough to cause real pain.

  She screamed, no longer in lust and need. His throbbing shaft truly hurt her, and she knew he meant to hurt her. He enjoyed it. He always did. When would she ever learn not to tell him she loved him, she thought, as she felt her body being pummeled.

  "You like that?" he snarled against her cheek as he made her whimper. "Is that what you want, whore?"

  She took his abuse, feeling his steel-like rod jamming as far as it would go inside her. She felt his body tensing, knew he was about to vent his rage inside her, and clasped him to her, pulling his magnificent body as close to her own as she could get it.

  Although she had never seen his face, she knew his lips would be drawn back over his teeth in a snarl. She somehow knew his eyes, those brilliant, piercing orbs of midnight blue, would be hard and deadly. That had been the only thing she had ever seen of his face—those deadly eyes. Neither had she seen the hard-muscled body that was slamming against her own. She had felt it, the gods knew she had felt it, time and time again, with her fingers, her lips, her own body, but not once in the year-and-a-half he had been coming to her hut had she ever seen the man, himself, nor his muscular body.

  "If he comes to you," one of his men had told her, "we'll have to blindfold you. If you take off that blindfold, we'll kill you. Do you understand?"

  She had nodded to the man they called Sparrow. She looked from the wagon where she had been chained with other women on their way to a nunnery in Fealst to the black-hooded man sitting astride the big black destrier. She felt him watching her, tried to smile at him, but found her lips frozen.

  "He wants you." Sparrow smirked. "You willing or not?"

  And she had been more than willing to become one of the many playthings of the Dark Overlord of the Wind. Her first night with him had been a lesson in degradation and abuse, but she had found pleasure in the rough treatment and in the way his body controlled hers. The only thing that had marred the night's passage was his obvious contempt for her.

  "Keep your whoring mouth shut and your dirty hands off me when I'm finished with you," he had snarled when he rolled away from her. "If I want you again, you'll be told!"

  And he had come to her again, many times over the months. Not nearly as much as she had wanted, or needed, but enough to fulfill the part of her that craved him. And still, not once in all that time had she seen his face.

  Now, he arched against her, shot hot semen deep within her, and held himself still, tense. From months of experience with her, he knew she'd follow close behind him, and when she did, he withdrew immediately and rolled to the opposite side of the bed. He never left her wanting, although she knew it wouldn't bother him if he did.

  "Did you do what I told you?" he asked, his voice tight.

  "Aye, Lord Raven. I made sure there'll be no babe born of our coupling." Her fingers reached up to scratch at the black silk blindfold covering her eyes.

  "Don't," he warned.

  "I wasn't taking it off," she hastened to say. "You know I wouldn't do that."

  "Whores will do anything," he growled. The bed move as he got up. She could hear him slipping back into his midnight clothes.

  "I am no whore, despite what you think." She gasped as his fingers closed around her throat and pressed her head into the pillow.

  "Were you a virgin when I first took you?"

  "No, but—"

  "How many men had you lain with before that?"

  "I don't—"

  "Aye, you do know, slut! How many?" His fingers tightened.

  "Four, five! I don't remember!" She could barely breathe.

  "And how many of them were married?" He shook her.

  "Two!" she gasped, reaching up to pry his fingers from her throat.

  He knocked away her hand. "One was your brother-in-law, right?"

  How he knew that, she had to wonder, but his fingers hurt her so badly, she was afraid he would kill her. "What do you want me to say?" she asked, her voice pressing from her throat.

  "I want you to tell me you fucked your husband's brother, that's what I want you to tell me, bitch!"

  She felt rage powering out of him, felt it in the strength of his fingers, and wondered what woman had hurt him so badly.

  "Tell me!"

  "Aye," she admitted. "It was my husband's oldest brother."

  The fingers relaxed, then moved away from her throat. His voice was a low rumble of hate. "Like I said…a whore will do anything!"

  She lay there after he was gone, crying, hurt, needing him just as much as ever. She knew he'd be back, just as he always came back. There were eight others like herself that she knew about, and there were probably more in Virago, Chale, the other kingdoms. She was not his only whore.

  They all had three things in common, she thought, as she stared into the darkness and heard the last echo of his horse's thundering hooves dying in the night.

  Each of the women he visited on a regular basis had shiny, long, black hair.

  Each had eyes the color of the grass in spring.

  And each had committed adultery at least once—with their husband's brother.

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  Brelan Saur ran a hand through his thick brown hair and cursed. His footsteps, as he walked up the steps to the tavern, were hard and angry.

  For months he had been trying to get into Boreas Keep, but every time he tried to gain access, he had found extra lookouts—Temple Guards, at that—surrounding the place. He had tried to get messages through to Legion on where to meet him, but spies in Rylan Hesar's network had failed. Finally, one of his men told him that Teal had brought news from the Dark Overlord, himself, that all the men were well and had joined forces to fight Tohre.

  "Damn it!" Brelan spat as he je
rked open the tavern door with a snap. "Damn it to hell and back!"

  He should have been in Boreas Keep at that moment, not trying to find Conar to tell him he had failed. Conar wasn't going to like it, and he wasn't going to allow Brelan to give him excuses about his failure. He could feel that scathing tongue lashing him even before he heard it.

  And hear it he did.

  What Brelan heard as he entered the Hound and Stag tavern was nothing compared to what he saw. The sight made his blood run cold.

  Conar stood on a table, a naked blade in his powerful hand, the tip pointed with unsteady aim at the throat of a menacing Temple Guard. Another guard lay dead on the floor in a pool of blood.

  Brelan groaned with despair. Around him stood Roget du Mer, Shalu Taborn, Sentian Heil and Thom Loure, men who usually stayed close to Conar's side, all dressed in the unkempt disguise of the Wind Force. Conar, however, his bearded face uncovered, his long braided hair swinging behind him, was toying with the man at his blade tip while his own men hovered by uneasily.

  "Repeat it, you scum!" Conar shouted in a slurred voice that made Brelan flinch.

  If he hadn't staggered, if he hadn't lost his footing on the ale-slick table, if he hadn't fallen backward into Roget's waiting arms, Conar more than likely would have severed the head of the Temple Guard—a man Brelan had been cultivating for months at Boreas Keep. The guard, who was likely trembling more with annoyance than fear, would no doubt have stood his ground until death, rather than strike out at the Darkwind, but that was beside the point. The next guard might not.

  Brelan was furious as he looked at Shalu. "How many in this room are ours?"

  "All, Wren," Shalu swore, using Brelan's cover name. "These guards came in only a moment before you did."

  Sentian and Thom had swords pointed at the surviving guard. Brelan strode forward to knock away the swords. "He's one of us, you bumbling idiots! Roget, you promised to protect him! Do you remember that, Hawk? Is this how you go about it?"