WINDREAPER

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  Bent nodded. "He forgave me before the first lash ever struck him, Duke du Mer. That was his way." He tugged the kerchief from Conar's bright blond hair. A gentle smile touched his huge mouth. He laid down the kerchief, then stroked the gleaming head of hair. His large head cocked to one side. "I never forgave myself, though."

  "You know he's the Darkwind?"

  Another smile, this one warm and secret. "Only he could have been. I thought the Dark Overlord might well be one of his brothers, Prince Dyllon, maybe, or Prince Coron. No one knows where they are." He peered intently at Roget. "Are they safe, Milord?"

  Roget nodded, not sure just how much he could trust this man.

  Bent seemed to understand. His massive shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath. "I care not who he is now except that he is alive, Duke du Mer. All I care about is him. His secret is safe with me, but if you think I pose a threat, that I can't be trusted, kill me, Milord. I will not be the reason he is harmed again. Through no fault of mine will I ever let that happen!" The man's voice was strong, full of honesty. He shook his lank brown, shoulder-length hair. "No, I will not see him harmed ever again."

  Roget regarded Bent for a long time, then an idea struck him. He stood, thinking his slightly shorter than six-foot stature looked child-like beside the eight-foot Bent Fontaine. "How good are you at protecting yourself?"

  His smile obviously confused Bent. A deep frown appeared on the broad, wrinkled face. "I do well enough."

  "And do you think you could protect this poggle-headed boy?" Roget asked, thrusting his chin toward a sleeping, snoring Conar.

  Understanding lit up Bent's hooded eyes. "He needs a bodyguard?"

  "What do you think? Tonight is not the first time he's done something so patently stupid. With you as his bodyguard, I wouldn't worry about him." He put out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

  Bent's giant paw completely covered Roget's hand. "Consider him safe, Duke du Mer." He vigorously pumped Roget's hand.

  Roget cringed. The man's strength was torture. When he recovered his hand, he flexed it, opening and closing his fingers. "If you're going to be one with us, Bent, you'd better learn to call me by my code name: Hawk. Duke Roget du Mer exists no longer."

  Bent grinned. "It will be my pleasure, Lord Hawk!"

  * * *

  "Make that colossus leave me the hell alone, Hawk!" Conar glowered up at the man hovering near him. "He thinks he's my damned twin!"

  Roget shook his head. Conar's temper was worse than usual this morning, due to the vast amount of ale he had consumed the day before. Twice Conar had tried to leave the room and twice Bent blocked his way.

  "You're staying until it's time to leave for the keep." Roget didn't even look up when the snort of rage blew from his friend's mouth.

  "I will not be dictated to!" came the thunderous reply. A tumbler of water sailed across the room, landing with a resounding crash against the hearth.

  Roget smiled. Conar was like a little boy when thwarted. In a reasonable voice, Roget explained the situation. "In less than an hour we leave for Boreas Keep. You can't go into Boreas with a fogged brain. Bent will see that no liquor makes it way to your empty belly. Not this morning. Not this evening. Not tomorrow. Or the next day. Not until we have accomplished what we go to Boreas to accomplish."

  "I don't need this ugly bastard guarding my every move!"

  Roget shrugged and looked at the book in his lap. He scanned the page, ignoring the angry hiss of warning from Conar. "He'll stand guard over you whether you like it or not. You can't be trusted to look after yourself, so you have acquired a nanny."

  "A nanny!" The shout made the windowpanes rattle. Another object flew across the room and hit the wood paneling. "I'll not have it, Hawk!"

  "You have no choice."

  "I want this over-grown troll gone! Do you hear me, Roget?"

  Roget glanced up with a frown of warning. It was the first time in a long time that Conar had called him by his given name. To lapse into such a dangerous mistake was a measure of how mad he truly was. "Lower your voice or, so help me, I'll have Bent gag you!"

  Conar growled, his teeth actually bared. "Don't you even try something like that!"

  "Then act reasonably and I won't." Roget closed his book with a snap and stood, facing Conar's anger with calm purpose. "Bent is here to guard your back. It doesn't matter what you want. You are more important to the cause alive than dead, skewered on the end of some Tribunal Guard's sword. Where you go, Bent goes. Live with it!"

  Conar slammed his fist against the wall. "Hawk, but I will not be followed about like some irrational child. I can handle myself." He glanced at Bent's benevolent face. "I can take care of myself!"

  "Bent will see that remains the case. He stays."

  Conar glared at the giant. Short of skewering the man, he likely saw no way of getting away from him. He spat out vulgarities pertaining to Bent's maternal parentage, then slumped heavily onto the bed. He folded his arms across his chest, crossed his bare ankles over one another, and simply stared with red-hot fury at Bent's pleasant, smiling face.

  "I'll try to be as unobtrusive as possible, Milord," Bent said sheepishly.

  A snort of contempt came from Conar. Roget believed, if it had been possible, steam would have shot from Conar's nostrils and ears.

  "Ignore him, Bent. Sometimes I think he gets on the rag like a female." Roget chuckled at Conar's answering grunt of hated. He glanced at his friend's set face and sobered. "It's for your own good. If we didn't love you, we wouldn't care."

  * * *

  As dusk settled on the land, Conar led the two men through a winding pathway of forest close to the western foothills of Mount Serenia. He had refused to speak to either of them as they saddled up and kept silent on the journey to Boreas Keep. Finally, while leading them past stunted trees beside the beach and into the overgrown scrub that grew low along the foot of the sheer cliff of mountain behind the palace, he spoke in a voice thick with nerves.

  "The grotto is through here." He motioned with his hand at a twisted overgrowth of brambles.

  "Can we get through?" Roget eyed the sharp thorns with obvious alarm.

  "Of course." Conar dismounted and started easily slipping through the twisted growth. He turned toward them.

  Roget glanced uneasily at Bent's bulk. "Well?"

  Bent shook his head. "Where he goes, I go, Milord Hawk." He landed with a thud on the ground as he slid from his massive mount, a Viragon stallion. Bent took a deep breath and followed Conor with no little grace through the sharp thorns, drawing in his breath as his hands and face were scratched.

  Conar's heart slammed in his chest. The passageway into the deeper part of the underground lake was confining, but it was not the close quarters of the now-unused grotto that caused his hands to itch, his breath to come in thick gasps. It was not his fear of tight, closed-in places that made him want to scream. It was the past causing him pain.

  He leaned against the rock wall and could feel treacherous sweat running down his face. He wiped angrily at the telltale sign of weakness. This once-beautiful place now held a store of memories that made his heart ache, his throat close with emotion.

  It had been here that Kaileel's men had taken him. Here where he had lost his freedom, his identity, his every precious possession. Here, men hired by his twin brother, Galen, had nearly beaten him to death. In this place he had been separated from the living.

  And where he had last held Liza.

  He tore his mind from the memory and, with a trembling hand, felt along the wall for support. He sucked in his breath as a jagged stone grazed the tender flesh of his palm. More pain in this place. More hurt. He felt as though he would scream. He must not remember. He would not remember. In remembering, he set in motion the agony that threatened to rip him wide apart.

  "Milord?" Bent called, nearly plowed into Conar. The giant stumbled through the entranceway, ducking his head to clear the low ceiling of rock.

  "Damn it!" Conar hi
ssed, shoving his shoulder into the giant's midsection. "Get the hell off me, you over-sized gnome!" He forced his emotions deep inside the empty vessel that was now his heart, ignoring Bent's apology.

  They heard the rush of water beneath them and the lapping of waves from the beach. A whisper of air moaned low along the iridescent walls, muffling their footsteps. Once in the grotto, the eerily glowing green water gave better illumination. The air smelled of salt and limestone.

  Moving yellowish light played over the hanging rock formations around them. The white sand surrounding the grotto seemed to sparkle as though sprinkled lavishly with thousands of diamonds and fiery opals. The ceiling appeared to be alive with a green wave of light and a thick fog spread itself over the water. It was a peaceful place, deceptively calm and serene.

  Motioning the men into a nearly hidden crevice, Conar wedged his body through the crack and made his way to the secret door which he knew opened to the keep's wine cellar. He ran his hand along the rock wall until he found a rusted ring that served as a door handle, then pulled. Obviously someone had oiled it well, for it slid silently open.

  "Brelan," he whispered to Roget and Bent. He led them into the wine cellar, not surprised when he found no cobwebs spread over the entry. Thanking his brother for his forethought, Conar pulled the door closed behind them. He became aware of meager light in the musty-smelling room. He glanced around until he found the single burning taper. He picked it up and shielded the wavering flame with his free palm.

  It took less than ten minutes for him to lead them to the secret door that led into the passageway outside the master bedroom suite. It would be there that Brelan, his second oldest brother, would have gathered the King and Queen of Serenia for the meeting. He stopped before a panel, a hidden door into the back of a special armoire, and waited for Bent and Roget to catch up with him. He heard the muffled sound of voices from behind the panel.

  Roget seemed to sense Conar's hesitation, to feel the uncertainty, probably even hear the wild beat of Conar's heart. "Are you all right?"

  Conar could only nod.

  "Then put on your mask."

  Without thought, he pulled the black silk kerchief from the pocket of his breeches and wound it around his head to hide everything except his eyes.

  Conar heard a feminine chime of laughter from behind the panel and nearly bolted. He drew in a ragged breath, his lids snapping shut with pain.

  Roget put a hand on his shoulder. "If you're not ready, we'll go back." Roget's voice was like a ray of hope in a desperate storm of destruction.

  Conar shook his head. "I can't let my past destroy my future."

  "And you can't let yourself be destroyed, either."

  "I would rather be in Labyrinth colony than here, right now."

  "I know." Roget gently folded Conar into his arms, stroking his tense back. "If I could do this for you, I would."

  Conar took heart from Roget's warmth and love. He eased himself out of his friend's arms, made certain his mask was in place, then motioned for Roget to open the door before he could change his mind.

  Also masked, Roget walked through the door. Bent followed, pushed into the room by Conar's impatient grunt.

  "Bent?" a sweet voice asked in amazement. "We have missed you, old friend!' The light, lilting feminine laughter, rich with beauty and thick with the sultry appeal of womanhood, was like a flash of lightning through the darkened secret passageway. Her voice lit the dark like a million fireflies in summer. "I am so happy to see you again."

  Though Bent answered in a deep rumble, Conar couldn't hear the words with blood pounding hard in his ears. He took a deep breath, willed his heart to cease its bursting beat, and entered the bedchamber. Squinting against the brightness of the gaily lit room, a room he remembered all too well, he raised his head and it was into her eyes his vision took him.

  The breath in his lungs stopped, and he stiffened with fear. And pain. And memory. And rage.

  But it was the other female in the room who took him completely by surprise as she rushed to him with a whimper of greeting.

  Chapter 10

  * * *

  "Brownie, no!" Liza gasped as her little dog jumped on the Darkwind, whimpering excitedly as she tried to gain his attention.

  Legion started forward, as if intent on shooing away the elderly dog, but the masked man had stooped to pet the animal and held up a hand to stay him.

  "He, ah…loves animals," Brelan said. None of them had even thought of Brown Stuff and her reaction to seeing her beloved master once more.

  "And without a doubt, they love him," Liza said, laughing.

  From his position on the floor, the masked man regarded her for a long moment, then after ruffling the little dog's floppy ears, stood and folded his arms across his chest, staring intently at Liza.

  The dog rolled on to her back and continued to stare at the black-clad man, her tail wagging furiously in an attempt to have him pet her again.

  "I'll put her outside," Teal said, taking a step toward the animal.

  "Let her stay," came the rasping demand from behind the mask when the dog laid her head on his boot and seemed content to remain there.

  As he looked with worry at Conar, terrified the man would reveal his true identity, Brelan was as unsure of himself as he had ever been in his thirty-three years of life. Unaccustomed to fear, not on close terms with nervousness, Brelan felt an anxiety he didn't like, for he felt as though he could not control it. He had to clear his throat twice before he could find his voice.

  "King Legion, Queen Elizabeth, may I present Lord Darkwind?" He was suddenly sure that Elizabeth would recognize Conar. He glanced nervously at Roget and their gazes held.

  King Legion A'Lex stepped forward, obviously wary of the masked stranger, but his lips lifted in a welcoming smile. After all, had not Brelan vouched for the man? Had not Brelan told him this man could be trusted? He reluctantly extended his hand. "We are happy you have come." When Conar made no move to accept his hand, Legion let it drop, seemingly embarrassed and a little more than annoyed. "My lady-wife thought you could help us to regain our son."

  Roget du Mer's brother, Teal, stepped forward, embracing his sibling, patting him heartily on the back. His twin dimples, so like Roget's, indented his face in welcome. He had been warned not to reveal Roget's identity as yet, but his likely relief at seeing Roget had made him forget. "How are you?"

  Roget sighed, glancing toward Legion. He removed the mask from around his face. "Teal was ever an impatient one, eh, Legion?"

  Legion A'Lex flinched in surprise. "Roget?" He enveloped the man in a bear hug. "When did you get home? How long have you been here?"

  "A little while," Roget answered. He smiled at his Queen's laughter.

  "Perhaps you can keep this gypsy lord in line now that you're home, Duke du Mer," she teased.

  "Doubtful, Milady." Roget grinned as he took her offered hand, bringing it to his lips. At Conar's snort of anger, Roget released her hand. He swept Conar a quick glance, then moved away. "I can try, though."

  Legion turned his happy gaze back to the masked man. "I'd heard rumors that there were many men with you from the Labyrinth." He glanced at his brother, Brelan, then turned his full attention back to the Raven. "Bre tells us my wife's brothers are somewhere nearby. Would it be possible for us to see them?"

  Conar looked away from Legion's avid blue gaze and stared once more at Liza. He closed his hands, forming tight fists, but he didn't answer A'Lex's question.

  * * *

  Anya Elizabeth A'Lex could not seem to look away from the man who glaring at her. There was something compelling about him, something that mesmerized her and keep her rooted to the spot. She had wanted to greet him, to thank him for coming to hear them out, but could not force her lips apart. She felt sweat lining her palms and the vein in her right temple pounded for no reason she could fathom. She felt the babe in her womb stir and covered her belly with her hand.

  The look of pure hatred that s
hot from the man's eyes made her blush with shame. Annoyed she should dare to feel that way about a babe of Legion's made her capable of tearing her gaze from him. Nervous, she sat in a wingback chair beside the unlit fireplace.

  Legion put his hands on his hips and cleared his throat. "Brelan has told you why we asked you here. I know it was dangerous for you and we greatly appreciate it. There is no one else we can turn to for help. It is imperative that Prince Corbin be taken from the temple before he can be consecrated to the Domination. I don't know how much you know about them, but…"

  The Raven's gloved hand move in contemptuous haste. "I know enough!" The rasping, oddly accented voice through the black silk scarf seemed hard, deadly, impatient.

  Somehow Liza found her voice. "Then you know why we want our son back. Kaileel Tohre has had him for three years, since he was only five." Tears formed, and her lips trembled. She had an uncanny notion the sight of her tears enraged him further. "I must have my son back, Milord."

  "Why?" came the scratchy voice.

  Legion looked hard at the man. "What do you mean why?"

  "Why do you want him back?"

  "That's a foolish question!"

  "Not so foolish when you consider how long you have let the boy remain with Tohre." The man's scorn was obvious.

  "There has been no way to get him back. Don't you think we've tried?" Legion's anger was escalating. "Every man we've sent there has disappeared."

  The Darkwind swung his impaling stare once more to Liza who sat nervously on the edge of her chair. "I have been told your wife belongs to the Multitude. Why has she done nothing?"

  Liza felt shock. Only a handful of people knew about her connection with the outlawed society. She glanced at Brelan, who nodded. Obviously, Brelan had told the man. She returned her regard to the Darkwind. "If I could have done something, Milord, I would have. I have little power left to me since…since my first husband died." She lowered her head. "What power the Oracle granted me was channeled only through him." A tear ran down her cheek. His memories still hurt. "When he left," she said softly, her voice breaking, "all my strength went with him."