WINDWEEPER

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  * * *

  * * *

  THE WINDLEGENDS SAGA

  BOOK III

  WINDWEEPER

  by

  CHARLOTTE BOYETT-COMPO

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

  * * *

  * * *

  Windweeper

  An Amber Quill Press Book

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  P.O. Box 50251

  Bellevue, Washington 98015

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  Copyright © 2002 by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  ISBN 1-59279-030-5

  Cover Art © 2002 Trace Edward Zaber

  Rating: R

  Layout and Formatting

  Provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com

  Published in the United States of America

  Also by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  At Grandma's Knee

  BlackWind

  BloodWind

  DarkWind

  In the Heart of the Wind

  In the Teeth of the Wind

  In the Wind's Eye

  NightWind

  Prince of the Wind

  ShadowWind

  Shards Anthology

  WindChance

  WindFall

  The WindLegend's Saga

  Book I: Windkeeper

  Book II: Windseeker

  Book III: Windweeper

  Book IV: Windhealer

  Book V: Windreaper

  Book VI: Winddreamer

  Book VII: Windbeliever

  Book VIII: Winddeceiver

  Book IX: Windretriever

  Book X: Windschemer

  Dedication

  To Tamara McHatton:

  The bestest editor in the neighborhood.

  I couldn't have done it

  without you, Lady!

  PART I:

  Chapter 1

  * * *

  He was in the depths of a nightmare and the dream was hurting him.

  A moan came from deep within his throat; his eyes moved rapidly behind closed lids. His blond hair thrashed on the pillow; a fine, oozing, pebbled sweat drenched him. His hands gathered the coverlet in a tight grip, while his restless legs kicked at the covers weighing him down.

  Liza watched, her green gaze sweeping over the dear planes of his handsome face. Gently shaking him, she called her husband's name, but he didn't wake. She softly called him once more and he turned away from her, tightly hugging the pillow to his chest.

  There was an horrific clap of thunder. The window glowed as another loud boom shook the panes and rain began to pelt the keep. She moved closer to him, wedging herself behind his shoulder, putting an arm around his waist.

  "Conar?" she whimpered as another shriek of lightning speared the ground. Storms frightened her, and her heart raced beneath her ribcage. She called out to him again.

  He couldn't hear her. The sound of rain lashing the windows only added to his nightmare. He buried his face in the pillow and dreamed on:

  She was running to him, her face stricken with terror and vulnerability. Her white gown floated behind her in the draft of unseen wind, and the windows behind her—down the long corridor—flared with light and lit her body through the gown. Screaming as lightning streaked across the firmament, she held out her arms, rushed into his embrace, burying her face in the white silk of his shirt. His arms went about her as he whispered her name. Her hands raked at his waist as she plastered herself against him. He whispered her name, lifted her in his arms, then gently cradled her as he took her to his bed. In the tempest of the storm, he took her, soothed her, promised her his heart.

  "Conar, please!" Liza moaned as she tried to wake him. She trembled with fear; her lids squeezed shut to blot out the flares of lightning. "Conar, wake up! I'm afraid, Milord!"

  Rain swept against the window of the room in which they lay, but he heard their soft moans of pleasure as sexual release came and went. He saw their sweat-dampened faces, their smiles, heard her sweet words of trust and his fervent words of love, and he knew the exact moment she conceived his child.

  Conar groaned. He gripped the pillow so hard the seam split. He didn't feel the woman clinging to him, didn't hear her frightened pleading. He was lost in his nightmare, hearing another man's words of love to his wife, feeling that man's pleasure at knowing she would have his child. He groaned again and went deeper into the nightmare.

  He was alone this time. He could no longer see his wife and her lover as they strained against one another in the big bed at Ivor Keep. Now, he was walking along a black sand beach stretching for miles away from him. Beneath his feet, volcanic rock crunched; thunderclouds hovered over the tops of the distant snow-capped mountains and rumbled a warning. The sky was lowering to the metallic gray of the approaching storm and streaks of yellow washed across the horizon as the wind, wild and hot, blew over him, tousling his hair.

  He heard seagulls careening overhead. They seemed to be mocking him with taunting cries: "Come and see, Conar. Come and see!"

  Looking at them, he saw their beady black eyes regard him with contempt for intruding on their domain. They swooped over him, around him, landing in the crashing, angry waves that washed over his bare feet, soaking his breeches. He stumbled in the sucking draw of the water as the ground gave way. The gulls chorlted at his solitude and loneliness as the undertow sought to drag him into the swirling, churning ocean depths.

  Ahead of him, in the breakwater, he saw a dark mass lying in the waves. The closer he came, the harder it was for him to move his feet. A chill shot through him and he walked like a condemned man toward what lay before him.

  "Come and see, Conar. Come and see!" the gulls taunted once more. He flinched at the evil he saw in their feathered faces.

  When at last he could see what formed the dark mass in the breaking waves, his heart felt as though it would break. He tried to turn away, but found he could not; nor could he blink or close his eyes to blot out what he was seeing. A moan of unbearable hurt made its way out of his very soul. He stood helpless in the churning waves and watched the scene unfold.

  "Conar, please, wake up!" Liza cried, her hands shaking his shoulders. She heard him moan, felt him tense, but he did not answer. She plastered her body as close to his as she could, but still he did not wake.

  It was Brelan Saur lying with Liza in the sweep of the breaking waves, his lean, taut body completely covering hers. Her long black hair undulated in the moving water as it washed over her and her lover. One long, wet tress curled lovingly about Brelan's right forearm as though holding him to her forever. Her slim, white arms were around his bare back, pulling him ever closer. Saur's mouth had captured hers in a never-ending, longing caress full of promise and dark passion. They did not look up at the man who gazed at them with such deep pain. They were oblivious to him and to the world. It was as though nothing, and no one, existed but them.

  Conar wanted to run from this material source of his pain, but couldn't. He felt cold and he wrapped his arms around him, but the cold was in his heart and nothing, ever, would warm him again.

  "Do you see?" the gulls screamed. "Do you see, Conar?"

  The storm grew darker, heavier, and lightning slashed in the distance behind the mountains, turning the sky a deathly gray. Chill air swept over t
he beach, blowing the layers of lighter sand on the dunes into high spirals of blinding, stinging pain. The waves became stronger, the water moved higher as it lapped with increasing force at the lovers, pushing them closer together; rocking their bodies in a wild parody of lovemaking, blending together their wet bodies in abandon.

  "She is his, now," the gulls taunted. "She is lost to you! Gone, forever!"

  A terrible crashing sound shot out. Conar lifted his gaze to the ocean. A dark, rolling wave was forming, boiling, lurching, sweeping high within the churning green depths. Heaving itself closer to the lovers, the tidal wave was bearing down with ever-increasing speed, its black crest looming above the fiercely churning white caps. Evil laughter echoed down from the vault of the darkening sky and sank into the heaving waves.

  "She is his, now!"

  Conar tried to call out to the lovers, to warn them against the danger of the giant wave speeding toward them. His mouth could make no sound. There was a black silk gag wound across his lips; his hands and feet were shackled, bound to a tall post behind him. He forced his head away, looked at a tall ridge of mountain behind him, and saw Kaileel Tohre standing there, an evil smile on his thin lips.

  "I've taken you away from her, Conar," the High Priest whispered in the flash of killing lightning. "She is in my hands now!"

  The tidal wave swept ever closer to the beach, unchallenged, unrestrained, unnoticed by the lovers. Tearing his eyes from the high wall of water, Conar looked at his wife and her lover and felt his soul lurch with hopelessness.

  There was nothing he could do to stop the waves from breaking over them, nothing he could do to keep the lovers apart, nothing he could do to keep Liza from being destroyed along with Brelan Saur. He was bound to the post, his hands burning with pain, his lips silenced.

  Suddenly, he was standing on the highest dune with Chandling and Grice Wynth, Liza's brothers. He heard Chand quietly sobbing. With horror, he watched as the wave spread over the lovers, recede, leaving nothing behind but an empty beach.

  The sea stilled, the sky cleared, the mocking gulls moved onto the higher dunes to keep their death vigil of the beach.

  "The Maelstrom claimed her," Grice said.

  "Aye, but she will return," Chand sighed.

  Kaileel's sinister voice flitted down to them from the tall peaks of Mount Serenia. "No, she will not. All that is left of her is Brelan Saur's girl-child."

  Conar felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him, but he jerked away. He fell to his knees and a scream of pure animal torment burst from his lungs—"No!!!"

  Jerking upright, Conar cringed away from the woman who tried to gather him in her arms. His breathing came in gasps, making it difficult to swallow. Sweat covered his body. He trembled from the force of his nightmare.

  "Conar," Liza called, stroking damp hair from his forehead. " 'Twas a dream, Milord."

  Prince Conar McGregor swung his startled attention toward his wife. Her lovely face shone in the sudden flash of lightning. He wiped the back of his trembling hand over his mouth and tried to still his thundering heart. "What?" he whispered, his voice shaking.

  "Only a dream, love," she repeated and drew him to her, patting his head as he buried his face in her shoulder.

  Conar closed his eyes and gave himself over to her care. He knew he should be comforting her, for he could finally hear the thunderous storm beating at their windows, but he needed her touch, her comfort, her closeness.

  "I dreamt you left me. Promise me you will never leave me, Milady."

  Liza brought him closer to her. She looked into the brilliant flashes of lightning washing the windowpanes. "Hush, now," she cooed, lowering her lips to the gleaming gold of his hair. "Hush. 'Twas just a dream."

  "I would die if I lost you."

  "Hush," she said, her voice more firm. "Think of our going home tomorrow."

  Against her breast, Conar smiled. "Home."

  "Aye. Tomorrow we leave for Boreas."

  "I love you," he said, lifting his head to look at her.

  Liza returned his gaze and smiled. "And I love you, Milord. Now go back to sleep. The storm is ending."

  When he was once more asleep beside her, Liza remained awake, staring into the darkness.

  Promise me you will never leave me, he had begged.

  A single tear fell heedlessly down Liza McGregor's smooth cheek. That was one promise she could never make.

  Chapter 2

  * * *

  Liza was seated at her dressing table the next morning when somebody knocked at her door. "Come," she bid and turned. A smile of welcome lit her lovely face.

  "Tampering with perfection again, Milady?" Lord Brelan Saur teased, nodding at the powder puff in her hand.

  She smiled as he came up to her. She saw him in the mirror as she tapped the powder across her shiny nose. "You do wonders for a lady's ego, Brelan Saur!"

  Placing his hands on her shoulders, he lightly kneaded the smooth muscles. "I only remark upon what I see, Milady."

  She sent him a wicked look of reproach. "What are you after, Bre?"

  "Me?" he asked, brows raised in mock innocence.

  She laughed. "You only compliment ladies when you want something from them."

  "True," he said as he hunkered beside her and began to pat her dog, Brown Stuff. "You're a pretty girl, too, huh, Brownie?"

  Liza looked down at him. All humor had gone from her face. "I hear you are leaving today."

  He shrugged and his wide shoulders stretched the fine lawn of his shirt. "It's time. I haven't run into that idiot husband of yours today, but the longer I stay, the better the odds that I will. I have done all I can here. You are in good health again and I am broken-hearted." He grinned as Brownie rolled on her back and begged for attention; he began to scratch her wide belly.

  "Brazen hussy." Liza laughed at her little dog.

  "She's jealous, Stuffen," Brelan whispered to the dog. He looked at Liza. "Run away with me and forget that ill-tempered brother of mine."

  "I must go home with my husband." Her lips twitched. "That ill-tempered person of whom you speak."

  "So, I've heard." He sighed melodramatically. "You do have your problems."

  Liza smiled at his woebegone expression. "But I do have your friendship, do I not, Lord Saur?" She held out her hand.

  He placed a soft kiss on her upturned wrist. "If you should ever need me, you need but ask; you know where I can be found. Call on me and I shall be there for you, sweeting."

  "I shall miss you, Brelan Saur," she whispered as she put a hand on his wavy brown hair.

  He forced a sad smile to his lips. "As I shall miss you." A wicked grin replaced the forced smile. "But, if he gets out of line again, let me know. I'll hang the fool from the highest tree and leave him there to rot!"

  She regarded him with solemn eyes. "You truly don't mean that." When he made to protest, she laid the tips of her fingers across his lips. "You would never deliberately or intentionally harm him."

  Brelan gazed at her for a long time, pondering the wisdom of retelling her how he truly felt about her. He placed her fingers against his chest, over his pounding heart.

  "Make no mistake, Elizabeth. If it came down to me and Conar, just the two of us, and I knew you were mine for the taking, I'd not hesitate to sweep him from your life forever."

  "But you wouldn't kill him, Bre. I know you. You couldn't. He is your flesh and blood."

  "Unfortunately, we can't choose our relatives," he growled. He stood, reaching down to touch her cheek. "Take care, Milady." He turned, his heart breaking as he strode to the door.

  "Bre?"

  He stopped, standing still, his hand on the doorknob, but he didn't look back at her. He didn't want her to see the tears brimming in his dark eyes.

  "Be careful, Milord. I would be very sad if anything ever happened to you."

  He could only nod as he opened her door and walked through.

  * * *

  Conar placed the mug of ale on the table
and sighed. He hadn't slept well last night; he certainly didn't have an appetite for breaking his fast today. His dreams soured his stomach this morning. Now, as he sat at the table, one of his men refilled his mug.

  The Elite chuckled. "Drink up, Commander. You look like death warmed over!"

  He took a sip of the spiced ale, but the taste bothered him and he set down the mug again.

  "Is it not to your liking?"

  Conar shook his head. "I seem to have lost my desire for ale."

  A worried frown crossed the Elite's face. Somehow, he had to make Conar drink the ale. It was imperative. A sound from the stairway leading up to the main sleeping chambers caught the man's attention. Lord Brelan Saur came down the staircase.

  A wicked grin of purpose settled over the Elite's face. "Lord Saur seems none too chipper this morn, Coni. He went to say his goodbye to our lady."

  Conar saw Brelan poised on the stairs, speaking with Grice Wynth—his best friend and Liza's eldest brother. An immediate frown formed on Conar's chiseled lips.

  "One of the servants says he was in there with her a long time. He waited until you'd come down and then snuck into her room. I hope for your sake he isn't going to cause any further trouble for you."

  "I thought Saur left the keep three days ago."

  The man shrugged. "I heard him tell one of Prince Grice's men that he had no intention of going until he was satisfied there was no chance the lady would leave you."

  Anger hardened Conar's jaw. "Is that so?"

  "I don't want you to worry, Conar," the Elite said conspiratorially, "but it was my understanding that he means to make his way to Boreas so he'll be close to Her Grace if you should…" The Elite shook his head. "Well, you know…mistreat her, again."