WINDWEEPER

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  Conar knew he had to get it over with. As much as it pained him to tell his father the whole of it, he could put it off no longer. He screwed up his dwindling courage and started his tale. "I have the Brotherhood of the Domination to thank for most of what happened. I have them to thank for what I did to Liza." He couldn't look into his father's eyes. "They caused it all."

  There was a long moment of silence as Conar's words sank like heavy weights into the room.

  A sudden chill came over the King. "What does that mean?" he asked, a tiny prickle of fear crawling down his taut spine. "What do those sorcerers have to do with anything you have done?"

  Conar blurted the truth while he still had a semblance of bravery. "I joined Them when—"

  The King slapped Conar full across the face, staggering him and splitting his lip. When Conar tried to put up a hand to wipe away the blood, Gerren knocked it away. His hands went to the front of Conar's shirt to draw him closer.

  "What the hell have you done?" He shook Conar. "Tell me!"

  "Let me explain…" He felt his feet actually leave the floor as Gerren yanked his shirt.

  "You had better do more than explain! You had gods-be-damned well better be able to make me understand!"

  "They have been after me a long time, Papa. They—" He felt his shirt front twisted beneath his chin, the constriction painful as he gasped. "Papa, please! Let me…"

  Gerren shuddered. "Have you let that filth put their hands on you?" He shook his son again. "Have you let those bastards touch you? Is that why you never wanted to marry? Answer me!"

  What was there for Conar to say? He couldn't lie to his father, his King. He couldn't explain either. His father was in no condition to hear the reasons.

  "Answer me!" the king shrieked. He drew back his right hand.

  Conar made his confession in a rush. "They initiated me during the time I was gone from here." His voice was low and throbbing with hurt. "After Norus."

  Gerren stepped back, stumbling into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. He gawked. "Damn you to the pit and beyond, Conar Aleksandro! Did you not know what you were doing? Have you lost your senses?"

  Conar flinched. He took a deep breath. "Aye, Papa. I knew."

  "You knew?"

  "Better than most."

  "How could you? What could have possessed you to do such a thing?"

  He could only shake his head. "If you will let me—"

  "Didn't you have enough power? Enough riches? Did you not have the woman you swore to the world you wanted? What more could you desire that you didn't already have?"

  "It had nothing to do with what I lacked, Papa."

  "Then, what?"

  "It's not what you think."

  "You were never ordained into the WindWarrior Society. Is that why?" Gerren's lip twisted. "You planned on allying yourself with that filthy bunch all along, didn't you?'

  "The Priesthood of the WindWarrior Society is controlled by the Tribunal, Papa."

  "I know! What has that to do with anything?"

  "And the Tribunal is controlled by Tolkan, and Tolkan is Arch-Prelate of the Domination." Conar could see the unreasoning fury in his father's eyes and knew the man wasn't really listening.

  "You tell me things I already suspected."

  "Think back, Papa. Think back to when you sent me to Corinth, to the Wind Temple to be trained. Who was it that encouraged my going? It wasn't you. It wasn't Hern; and it certainly wasn't Mama. She didn't want me to go. Do you remember who insisted I be sent there?"

  Gerren ground his teeth. "That is in the past. What difference does it make who—"

  "It was Kaileel Tohre, Papa. He wanted me there. It was him that took me, remember?" He took a steadying breath. "It was Tohre who trained me."

  "I see no correlation—"

  "Certain boys are chosen during their training in the priesthood for special teachings. Those teachings are not given at the Wind Temple. You have to travel to the Great Abbey of the Domination for such training."

  A nagging fear began to sprout in Gerren's mind. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear anymore.

  "Tohre took me to the Abbey when I was six years old. I would have been consecrated to the Domination when I was thirteen if I had not tried to kill myself to keep from being used by them."

  A dawning horror spread out its roots in the fertile soil of the King's nimble mind. He began to shake his head in denial.

  "They abused me then, Papa. I never told you because I didn't want you to feel guilt over what had been done to me."

  Disgust shot up, branching out with withered arms to drag the King's mind into a shameful mire of repulsive thoughts.

  "It took them over twenty years to do what they tried to do, to attempt to finish what they started when I was a boy."

  Unrestrained fury hit the King like a bolt of lightning into the sturdy tree of his ordered life. He leapt forward, grabbing a handful of Conar's hair, dragging back his head. "Why did you keep such things from me?" He could picture Conar as a boy of six, crying, begging not to be sent away. He could see his wife's face, tear-drenched and sad as her son was lifted in Kaileel Tohre's arm and carried from the keep. "Why didn't you tell me what they had done?"

  Straining against the vicious pull on his scalp, Conar tried to shake his head. "Would you have believed me?"

  The King had to admit he probably wouldn't have. A child's wild tale of such vile behavior would have been hard to accept. The boy would have been examined, but even if the evidence of molestation had been present, who would have collaborated the tale? Tohre? Unlikely if he had been the instigator of such horror.

  "That does not excuse what you have done now!" the King shouted.

  "It was the only way I could get Liza back. Tohre was behind her kidnapping, Papa. He promised he would put her beyond Galen's reach if I would…" He stopped, the look on his father's face more than he could bear.

  "If you did what?" Gerren's lips pulled back over his teeth. He pulled hard on Conar's hair.

  The pain grew intense, the humiliation even worse. Conar could see the loathing, could feel his father's wrath on his scalp. He let out a wavering breath. "If I would let him—take me."

  Gerren let go of Conar's hair. He stepped back and regarded his son with repugnance. "And did you?"

  "I was rescued before they could put me through the final ritual that would hand me over to Kaileel."

  "Rescued by whom?"

  "I can't tell you."

  The King fixed Conar with a hard gleam of promise. "There has never been a McGregor king to sit on the throne who did not deserve to do so. There has never been one who has allied himself with the evil of the Domination, no matter the reason." He spat on the carpet. "And there never will!"

  Conar felt as though he been kicked in the gut. "What are you saying, Papa?"

  "You will never sit on the throne of this land. I will have you declared unfit. I will disinherit you!"

  "You don't mean that. I didn't go to them because I wanted to, Papa. I did so to protect my wife. Can't you understand? I have broken away from—"

  His father's shout made the glass chandelier rattle on its chains. "I don't give a damn why you spread your legs! That you did is enough proof you do not deserve the crown."

  "I was a boy, Papa! Only six years old. I was—"

  "You could have stopped it from happening if you had tried. You could have run away; you could have told someone at the Temple. That you didn't tells me you must have liked what they did to you!"

  A look of pure horror flashed over Conar's face. He stared at the man with incredulity. Did his father really believe he could have prevented his childhood abuse?

  "And going to them once you were grown, knowing what they do, knowing what they had done already, you still embraced that…" The King flung a hand toward the heavens. "What that tells me is you are no better than any of those evil bastards and you let them rule you." White lines of fury circled the King's mouth. "I will not allow that fi
lth to dictate Serenia's future. I will make sure it does not happen by disclaiming you!" He left the room, his angry strides carrying him down the corridor, away from his son.

  Conar's blond head bent in guilt. At a movement in the opened doorway, he lifted his head.

  Kaileel Tohre smiled. It was a slow, steady stretch of the thin, colorless lips, a grimace of laughter in the skull-like face.

  He grinned. "So, it has begun, Conar. Your downfall. Your father will disown you; your family will desert you; your friends will turn their backs to you. And finally…" The grin turned malicious. "Finally, your wife will betray you. A fitting punishment, wouldn't you say?"

  Conar didn't answer. He knew Tohre didn't expect him to. He simply looked at the man, hating him with every fiber of his being. But the small boy who had so feared Kaileel Tohre still had a grip on Conar's bravery. That abused little boy backed down from the threat posed by the High Priest instead of allowing the grown man with his newfound powers to destroy the evil before him.

  "I'll see you in hell, my sweet Prince," Kaileel cooed. "And very soon, too."

  Chapter 8

  * * *

  Legion and Teal found their Prince sitting morosely on the stairs leading to the upper chamber. Conar hadn't slept all night, as his rumbled shirt and breeches could attest. There were dark circles under his eyes and his set expression only made him seem more formidable as the two men came to lean against the banister.

  Conar turned to them, none the better for several large mugs of ale Sadie, the keep's cook, had earlier provided. His only acknowledgment of their presence was an ugly snort.

  Legion sat beside him and draped a massive arm over his brother's slumped shoulders. "Back to being your normal ill-mannered, boorish self, are you?" He winked at Teal over Conar's head. "Did you and Papa fight last eve?"

  Conar shrugged away Legion's arm. His temper was near the boiling point and his head ached unmercifully. Nausea clogged his throat; his tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth. He had been sitting on the stairs, fully intending to see his father even if it took all morning, and he felt like a fool, worse for having done so. "I am in no mood for your barbs, A'Lex."

  Teal grabbed his heart. "Oh, 'tis worse than we thought, A'Lex!"

  Conar glared at Teal. "Have you nowhere else you need to be at this time of morning, du Mer?"

  Teal grinned. "No."

  "Can't you find somewhere to be?"

  "Nowhere that would interest me."

  "How does a night in my dungeon sound?"

  "Oh, so it's like that, is it?" Legion laughed. "You'd better scoot, du Mer, before His Royal Pain has you stretched on his rack! I can bother him just as well without you."

  Teal chortled. "He might ship you off to his jail, A'Lex!"

  "He wouldn't dare."

  Turning his head to look steadily at his brother, Conar's upper lip curled in scorn. "You think not?"

  "I know not, little boy," Legion scoffed. He glanced at Teal. "Run along, du Mer. I'll watch over him."

  "Careful of him, A'Lex," Teal warned, his eyes dancing like the fires in a gypsy camp. "His bark seems dangerously potent this morn."

  "His bite is worse!" Conar mumbled.

  Legion held out his arm. "Care to chomp off a little piece?"

  Conar let out an annoyed breath. "Careful what you say to me, A'Lex. 'Tis not a good time to play your asinine games."

  Something in Conar's face made his brother realize that some accursed thing had disrupted the joyous reunion. Conar was back to acting as he had before going to Oceania and his breath smelled heavily of ale.

  "What happened?" Legion sighed.

  "Leave me alone. Please. It's too complex to explain. I'm waiting to speak with Papa."

  "I suspected as much," Legion answered, folding his arms across his chest. "He won't appreciate you smelling like an ale house. You've been warned about how much liquor you drink."

  "That's none of your business. Or his!"

  Legion shrugged. "I wouldn't say that. I'm concerned for you."

  "Don't be."

  "Can't help it. Comes with the territory." Legion glanced up at the closed door leading into their father's suite of rooms. "Locked you out?"

  "He's angry at me."

  "He's always angry at you. The trouble is the pair of you are too much alike."

  Conar snorted. "He wouldn't agree with you."

  Legion was about to answer the cryptic remark when Sadie MacCorkingdale came waddling toward them, two mugs of hot buttered rum on a silver tray.

  "Thought you could use some refreshment." The old woman giggled and turned the tray so Legion would be forced to take the mug nearest her right hand.

  "I don't want any," Legion said, frowning at her, "and I don't think he needs…" He didn't get to finish, for Conar grabbed the other mug and brought it to his lips, taking a long draft, then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Legion's frown deepened. This early in the day? That wasn't a good sign. "Go easy on that, will you?"

  "I need it."

  "Why?"

  "He says he's going to disinherit me."

  Whistling softly, Legion stared at his brother. All too aware of Sadie's keen interest in the prince's words, he turned to her with reproach. "Is there something else?"

  The old woman grinned as she watched Conar drain the mug of rum. "I did what I came to do." She waddled back to the kitchen doorway.

  "What the hell did you do, now, Coni?" Legion asked as Sadie closed the door behind her.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, Conar leaned his head against the wall beside him. "In his eyes I have shamed him. I did what I thought best for my wife's welfare. He doesn't see it that way or else he does not want to see it. By the gods, Legion, I didn't think there was any other way."

  "But he damned well should have sought one nevertheless!" came a harsh voice. The King stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at his sons. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides. His face was mottled with anger, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen from what could only have been the result of hard crying.

  "Papa," Conar said, "let me try to explain—"

  "Legion, tell your brother I have heard more than enough to last me a lifetime!"

  Conar opened his mouth to speak, but Legion hushed him. "I have no idea what's happening here, but I'll speak with Papa. This can all be worked out. Go to your room and—"

  "That man is not welcome in my presence, Legion! You will see that his things are removed from this keep. Where he goes, I don't care, but I want him gone before the sun sets!"

  Legion shot to his feet, his mouth open in shock. "Papa!"

  "Do you disobey me as well?" the King shouted. "If you do, then you may join that man in exile." He came down the stairs at a hard pace and shoved Legion to the side. "Do as I say. Remove this foul son-of-a-bitch!"

  "You will regret this, Papa," Conar said so softly Legion had to strain to hear the words.

  King Gerren didn't look at Conar. "Legion, inform him that the only thing I regret is that I ever sired him!" Continuing on, the King waited for Hern Arbra to open the big double doors leading into the courtyard.

  The Master-at-Arms had only just come in through the oak portals and stood still, worried as he glanced past his King to the men standing on the stairs.

  "What's happened?" Hern asked.

  Before his father could clear the threshold, Conar came off the stairs and shouted, his words slurred from the effects of the rum and ale. "I will be King here!" He watched his father's retreating back. "It is my birthright. I will not allow you to take it away! I will see you dead before I will let that happen!"

  Legion stared at his brother, thankful their father had not heard the threat. "Conar, that's treason!"

  "Call it what you will. I will not be denied what is rightfully mine."

  * * *

  "I can't find him anywhere, Commander," Thom said gloomily. "My men have scoured the village and taverns. No one has seen him."

  "Is h
is horse in the stable?" Teal asked.

  Thom nodded. "I've already checked."

  "Have you found out what caused the rift between the King and Conar this time?" Marsh inquired. He, like the others, stood milling about the outside entrance to the keep.

  Legion shook his head. "Papa wouldn't discuss Conar with me. He said if I wanted to know, to ask my brother."

  Teal glanced at him. "It must have been bad."

  "Bad enough to warrant him being disinherited," Legion shot back.

  Sentian Heil was propped up against the wall beside the front entrance. He knew. He had known since the ship ride to Oceania a year earlier. Obviously, the King had taken the news as the prince expected, only with more retaliation and vengeance.

  Storm Jale came through the big double doors from the keep's interior. His face was white with shock. "Tell me it isn't true, Legion. Tell me His Grace hasn't joined the Domination."

  "Where the hell did you hear that?" Legion snarled.

  "I know it can't be true; but I heard it straight from His Majesty. He sent me to get High Priest Tohre and I heard them arguing. The King told Tohre he would see the priest in the Abyss for what His Grace had been forced to do. He said His Grace was being disinherited. Tohre told him that was just as well since His Grace would soon be leaving for the Great Abbey of the Domination to fulfill his obligations to them."

  Legion sat on the stone steps. "I don't believe this."

  "Makes sense," Teal remarked. "If Conar has joined that bunch, his father is well within his rights to take the throne from him."

  Sentian raised a thick dark brow. "He did what he had to do."

  "I disagree," Teal shot back. "There's no acceptable reason this side of the Pit."

  "There has to be more to it than what appears on the surface," Legion said.

  "There is," Sentian assured him. "He did it to protect his lady."

  "But still—" Marsh began.

  "Still what?" Sentian thundered. "Are you condemning him, too? What do you know of his motives, Edan? You were at Norus, weren't you? You saw how desperate he was to get back his lady. He felt he had no other choice. Those bastards didn't give him any other option! Where the hell do you think he ran off to that day?"