WINDWEEPER

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  In the tunnel, blocking his way, stood Legion and four palace guards.

  Liza groaned and clutched his arm.

  "It's all right," he said, smiling, reassuring her, before he eased her fingers from his arm. He gently pushed her away, put up a hand when she tried to clutch him again. "No, love."

  "Let him go, Legion!" she begged, placing herself between her husband and the men. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

  Legion's eyes were sad, wary, as he looked past her to Conar. "You shouldn't have run."

  Conar could see the resolve on Legion's face and knew he would arrest him. He couldn't let that happen. He had one chance to make it back the way he had come and he meant to take it.

  "Goodbye, dearling," he whispered and stepped back.

  "Conar, no!" Liza cried, reaching for him, but he spun away and broke into a run.

  "Get her out of here!" Legion snapped to one of the guards, rushing past Liza.

  He heard her shriek of protest and glanced back to see the guard flinging Liza over his shoulder and hurrying past the others to take her to safety. Lgion turned to see Conar disappearing around the bend beyond the far wall of the Grotto.

  Conar made it as far as the secret rock panel before he heard the scraping of another panel off to his right. He darted his eyes to the sound and knew it would be only a matter of seconds before men came pouring out of the wine cellar.

  He dared not go back the way from which he had just come, for he knew Legion and his men were closing in behind. He reached out for the panel before him and the color drained from his face. The panel began to move toward him. He didn't even have time to think about what to do next. His only chance, his only hope, was the pool of water in the Grotto; his only way to reach it was to bulldoze past Legion who was no doubt barring the way.

  He had never tried to plumb the depths of the bubbling pool, but he knew the water fed into the sea. How far down he had to dive, and how long he had to do so weren't a consideration. He pivoted and shot back through the small chamber. Knowing he might drown was the only drawback of that way to freedom, but he couldn't let himself think about it.

  As he ran toward the water, he barreled past Legion, knocking the older man sideways into the cavern wall. When he reached the pool, he had a momentary glimpse of the other guards who had accompanied Legion hurrying forward. He arched his body toward the murky green depths.

  Then something hit him from behind, something hard and sharp. He twisted in agony, his spine throbbing all the way to his tailbone.

  As he twisted, he fell at the edge of the water, rolled, and half-tumbled into the pool. Hands caught his clothing before he could slide into the green depths. His shirt ripped from one shoulder; nails dug painfully into his flesh as someone clawed at him.

  He winced, howled in pain, and lashed out with one foot, connecting with a soft midsection before another strong hand gripped his ankle and dragged him onto the bank. He kicked out again, caught another man in the groin, and managed to scramble up on all fours.

  He had just gained his feet when someone shoved him. He stumbled to his knees in the shifting sand, badly twisting his ankle and yelping.

  Despite the shooting agony in his spine and ankle, he managed to roll away and get to his feet. His hand went to the dagger that rested behind his back in the waistband of his breeches. He drew it out, palmed it until he clutched the deadly weapon in a fighting position, blade edge down.

  "Don't be a fool, Conar," Legion called in an exasperated voice. He limped toward his brother. "Violence never settled anything. Put down the knife and let's talk."

  "And then what, Legion?"

  "You'll have to come with me."

  "If I won't?"

  "For the love of Alel! Don't make this any harder for me than it already is." He took a few steps forward, but Conar thrust the knife toward him. "Don't do that!"

  "What choice have they given me? They won't listen to what I have to say. I've already been tried and convicted." A snide smile touched Conar's full lips. "Will I even get a trial?"

  "The Tribunal will decide. It was out of Papa's hands the moment you ran."

  A wry laugh left the finely chiseled lips. "What do you think the verdict was? Imprisonment? Exile? Hanging? Or just a prolonged stay with the Inquisitor until I have no mind left?"

  Legion flinched, the choices too horrid to imagine. He eased to his right, aware of the nine men, men he didn't even know, who just joined the other three behind him. He looked for Brelan, didn't see him, didn't see anyone he knew, and turned back to Conar.

  "Give yourself up, Conar. If you fight, there's going to be bloodshed."

  Conar swung his gaze around the cavern, seeing hatred and bloodlust on the faces of the twelve men staring at him. He felt a stab of intense fear go through him and knew if these men got the chance they'd kill him anyway. He shook his head. "Not as long as there's a breath in my body and strength in my blade. I have done nothing wrong."

  "You have no choice, Conar!"

  "I am making my own choice."

  "Not this time," Legion warned, shaking his head at the boy's stubbornness. Didn't he realize how dangerous his position was? "The choice was made for you when you ran."

  There was pleading in Conar's eyes, pleading for understanding, but his voice was as steady as his dagger's sharp edge. "If you take me back, the Tribunal will see me in hell before they're finished with me. Kaileel and Tolkan will make sure of it. Is that what you want?"

  "That isn't what I want, but you haven't given me an alternative! There's no way you can leave here, Conar. How long do you think you can hold out against us?"

  "Until I am either free or dead."

  "I don't want to see you hurt, Coni. I want no bloodshed, especially not yours."

  "Then take your men and leave. Stay, and I promise, blood will flow. Mine and yours."

  Legion took a deep breath. He headed straight for Conar. "You won't kill me."

  "I'm warning you, A'Lex!" There was a note of pain in Conar's voice. "I swear to the gods I'll use this. Stay the hell away from me!"

  "I can't."

  Conar backed up, was startled when he encountered the stone wall, then glanced sideways, his knife held rigidly in his fist, searching for an exit. One of the guards lobbed a rock. It hit Conar on the collarbone, startling him, numbing his arm all the way down to his fingers, making him lose the dagger.

  That was all Legion needed. He leapt across the distance between him and Conar. One mighty fist exploded into Conar's face, arching him sideways and sending him plummeting.

  "No!" Legion yelled just before a savage kick landed solidly in the small of Conar's back and the young man cried out with pain. "No, I said! Leave him alone!" Legion rushed forward, yanked one man out of his way, backhanded a second, shoved a third away from his prone brother, and hit another who reached out to grasp a handful of Conar's hair. "Get the hell away from him!"

  Conar tried to scramble away from the men. He was barely aware of Legion struggling with two who had leapt forward to take hold of the older man. He saw a guard slam the hilt of his sword against the side of Legion's head, and watched as his brother fell. "Legion!"

  Another booted foot caught Conar in his ribcage. Even before he could draw breath, another foot slammed into his other side and he felt a rib cave in. Gasping with pain, calling his brother's name, he drew up his knees to avoid a kick aimed at his crotch. The kick, instead, connected sharply with his thigh and he felt the searing agony all the way to the soles of his feet.

  "Get him up!" the man who seemed to be in charge yelled. "Get the bastard up!"

  Two men pulled Conar to his feet, jammed his arms behind his back and pulled up fiercely on them. He didn't recognize a single man there.

  "You remember me, Highness?" the leader sneered as he got in Conar's face. "My name be Kullen. That sound familiar to you?"

  "I don't know you."

  "You will remember me, you little fuck!" the man screamed and spittle flew in
to Conar's face while a heavy fist jammed into Conar's gut. He doubled over the pain, his breath leaving him in a loud whoosh. "Remember me, now?"

  Conar shook his head, his knees weak as pain in his spine, ribs, and belly coursed through him.

  "You don't?" came the sing-song whisper. Looking at his companions, the man threw back his greasy head and laughed. "But we've met before, Your Royal Little Shit. You recall where?" When Conar again shook his head, the man grabbed a handful of Conar's hair and jerked back his head. He placed his other heavily callused hand up to span Conar's arching, straining neck. "Think!"

  Conar looked into the guard's vicious eyes and vaguely remembered, but he couldn't recall where or when or under what circumstances.

  "Take a good look, Highness!" the man spat. His grip around Conar's throat tightened, his thumb and forefinger pressing hard into the windpipe.

  Conar tried to swallow but the constriction on his throat prevented him.

  "Look at me, I told you!"

  He saw a battered, hooked nose tipped slightly to one side. He estimated the man to be in his seventies, but the bullish strength in the man's hands contradicted that. Slick fading red hair covered the man's large skull and dipped down into muttonchop sideburns that curled under the chin, but didn't quite meet.

  "I don't remember," he gasped, feeling the pressure tighten painfully on his windpipe.

  "The hell you don't! That bitch wife of yours killed two good men that day at the Hound and Stag and you wanted me sent to the Labyrinth, but the Tribunal sent me to Ghurn, instead. Remember that, Highness?" he screeched. "I asked for mercy and you showed me none!" The fingers crushed his windpipe. "You fucked with me, and now you're gonna pay!"

  "Beat him, Kullen!" one man yelled.

  "Aye! Work him over good!"

  "Mess up that pretty face of his!"

  Kullen glanced behind him. He saw a man standing in the archway of the tunnel leading to the outside.

  "Milord?" Kullen asked. "What'll it be?"

  Thin lips raised into a vicious, retaliatory smile before soft, lovely words came to Kullen's ear. "Hurt him."

  Kullen turned back to Conar. "My pleasure, Your Grace."

  From his place in the archway, Prince Galen McGregor, Conar's twin, the man employing this group of bullies, stood with his arms folded over his chest and watched.

  * * *

  "Where the hell have you been?" Legion growled as he glared at Brelan.

  Saur, Chand Wynth, and Sentian Heil had just entered the cavern.

  "I got cold-cocked in Conar's bedroom," Brelan snapped.

  From his place beside Legion A'Lex, Teal du Mer, glanced at Brelan's furious face. "Someone hit you?"

  Brelan's lip curled. "I didn't knock myself out, asshole!"

  Legion struggled to his feet, wincing as pain lashed through his head. "Where's Conar?"

  "How the hell should I know? Didn't you catch him?" Brelan saw Legion wobble. "What's wrong with you?"

  Du Mer stood, also. He had been sitting on a rock beside Legion. "I found him lying here. They must have found Conar while he was unconscious."

  Chandling Wynth, youngest Prince of Oceania and brother-in-law to Conar McGregor, glanced at the ground near the Grotto's pool where the sand was swirled. He bent down and his face turned white.

  "There's blood everywhere!" He looked at Brelan. "What did they do to him?"

  "Beat the shit out of him," Legion snapped and had to sit down, for his head was spinning.

  Sentian turned vicious eyes at Legion. "If you hadn't sent me off on a wild goose chase—"

  "You couldn't have stood up to twelve men, Heil," Legion said, wearily.

  "Maybe not, but I'd have died trying!"

  "Where'd they take him?" Chand asked.

  "To the Interrogation Facility of the Tribunal Hall," Hern Arbra snapped as he thundered through the outside tunnel. "You were supposed to be protecting his back, A'Lex! What happened?"

  Legion's head snapped up. A groan parted his lips, but he quelled the pain and nausea. "We've got to get him out of there."

  Brelan shook his head. "They never let anyone in to see prisoners."

  "I'll see him," Legion shot back.

  "You won't," Hern shouted. "I've already tried!"

  "And?"

  "No one is allowed in there." His blunt features turned hard as stone. "Not even the King, they told me."

  "Why not?" Sentian asked. "What don't they want us to know?"

  "It's what they don't want you to see," Brelan countered.

  "What do you mean?" Chand asked. "What are they doing?"

  Brelan turned an exasperated expression to the young Prince. "What do you think they do to prisoners in there, Wynth?"

  "They can't torture Conar," Teal reminded him. "He's royalty."

  Brelan spat. "He's been disinherited! Or did you conveniently forget that?"

  "But they have no reason to torture Conar!" Chand cried.

  "They don't need a reason," Brelan snarled.

  "But why?"

  "For his confession, fool!"

  "He's innocent. He won't sign a confession to something he didn't do," Sentian corrected.

  "A lot of innocent men have swung from the scaffolding, Heil," Brelan reminded him.

  "They could hang Conar?" Chand whispered.

  "They could," Brelan answered.

  "No, they can't!" Teal took a step toward Saur and glared into the man's face. "I may not know much of anything else, but I do know Serenian law! I've had to learn it over the years. They can't hang royalty or they would have hung my brother, Roget!"

  "He's been disinherited!" Brelan bellowed.

  "It doesn't matter! He was born royalty; he was christened royalty; he was raised royalty! You and me"—Teal pointed to himself and Brelan Saur—"we can be hanged, and probably will be one day! But they can't hang Conar!" Dark lines of fury mottled his gypsy complexion. "But they can tie him to the whipping post and you can bet your last copper piece they will!"

  "That's enough!" Legion yelled. "Arguing about this won't help Conar."

  "What do we do now?" Sentian inquired as he looked at Legion A'Lex, the man he blamed for Conar's predicament.

  Legion shook his head, and wished he hadn't. "What do you think, Brelan?"

  Saur was staring at several splatters of blood on the wall beside him. The sight of it turned his stomach. It also made him furious, furious with Conar, with himself, at the fates that brought them all to this sorry pass.

  "Brelan?"

  Saur winced. A shiny white object lay on the glistening sand. He bent over, ignoring his name a second time, and picked up a shattered tooth.

  "Brelan?" Legion asked for the third time.

  Against the dark tan of his flesh, the enamel was very white, although the broken edge was tinted with a bit of pale yellow dentin. It was a front tooth, perhaps an incisor. There wasn't much of it, but there was enough.

  "Damn it, Brelan! Are you listening?"

  He raised his head and stared into Legion's face. He tossed the tooth in the air, caught it and closed his fingers around it. "We can't do a damned thing to help him."

  Hern's voice was sharp, filled with hatred for the man who had just spoken. "So we just let them have him, is that it? Let them torture the boy?"

  Brelan swung toward the man. "What do you suggest, Arbra?"

  "We could gather some men, storm the Tribunal Hall," Sentian suggested. "We could take him out and…"

  Saur pointed his finger at Heil. "Aye, you do that, Sentian! And while you're at it, you'd better have someone building his casket. Because before you and your men get even a third of the way inside the Interrogation Facilities, the guards will have looped a noose around his neck and hung him in his cell. They'll swear before gods and men that Conar killed himself rather than be brought before the Tribunal to be condemned as a traitor!"

  Sentian took Hern's arm. "We can use the stones to…" Sentian began.

  "Shut your mouth, Heil!"
Brelan narrowed his eyes in warning. "You got away with that once, but you can bet they know who you are now. They will be expecting you."

  Hern blinked. "How the hell do you know what we did?"

  "Elizabeth told me!"

  Hern exchanged a look with Sentian. "He may be right."

  "There has to be something we can do!" Chand shouted, his hands in his hair. "We just can't leave him there!"

  Brelan pocketed the tooth. "What choice do we have? Conar can't be touched, now!"

  Chapter 13

  * * *

  Kaileel Tohre's hands were folded inside the sleeves of his blood-red robe. He sat with his bare feet crossed at the ankles, a pleasant smile on his thin lips, his pale blue eyes twinkling with humor. He waited patiently for the members of the Synod of Justice to grant him an audience.

  He looked around the opulent reception room, taking in the gilt furniture, the plush carpets, the silken tapestries, the heavy oak paneling and satin-covered chairs. He glanced with distaste at the royal coat of arms hanging over the marble fireplace at the far end of the room and his nostrils quivered with loathing. By all that was right, he should have been born to the purple.

  If King Thiels had but only recognized him as his son…

  The door into the Tribunal Hall of Justice opened.

  "The Synod will see you now, Your Eminence," one of the acolytes said in a hushed, respectful voice, bowing as Tohre stood.

  Inclining his head to the men sitting at the black, crescent-shaped table, Tohre took his place in the chair before the Synod. Adjusting the folds of his robe around him, he laid calm hands on the chair arms and waited until the guards and acolytes closed the door behind them, leaving the five members of the Synod and Tohre alone.

  Kaileel smiled.

  "At long last," Tolkan Coure breathed.

  "But nevertheless, done, Your Holiness," Tohre answered.

  "You have not questioned him, as yet?" one of the Synod members politely inquired.

  "No, Your Honor. Not without your official sanction."

  One of the four men who flanked Tolkan stood and offered a rolled parchment to Tohre. "We believe you will find this all the authority you will need, Brother Tohre."