Boyett-Compo Charlotte - Wind Tales 01 (32 page)

town was almost on that imaginary line that dissected Serenia and Virago. Once the Cree siblings were

on Serenian soil, it would take nothing short of an act of war to get them back, for Nick planned upon

seeing the town council immediately they arrived to ask for political sanctuary.

“You want to risk going to war with Drayton McGregor?” Kaelan asked.

Duncan's mouth became a thin line before he calmed himself enough to speak. “It will not be the first

time our two families have shed blood over a foolish man's obsession with a pretty woman!"

“I'd think long and hard before engaging the McGregors in this, Your Majesty,” came a steely voice.

Kaelan and his brother looked toward the creaking of heavy steps coming down the stairs and found

Duke Dakin Cree.

The Duke paused at the last step. “My king is best friend to King Drayton McGregor,” he stressed “and

would take sides with Serenia if war came.” He came off the last step. “As would Montyne of Ionary and

Wynth of Oceania.” The Duke's chin came up. “It is my guess Virago would find herself alone against the

might of the other six kingdoms."

“A position we have been in before!” Duncan threw at him.

“Aye, Majesty, you were and was it not then that your mighty Jarl, Innis Hesar, lost Ciona to Prince

Doran McGregor?” The Duke smiled hatefully. “Another war might even lose you the keep at Colsaurus.

Norus, is it? It sits at a strategic point there close to Diabolusia. I would imagine the McGregors could

make good use of it, don't you?"

“That keep is a baronial estate of my family!” Duncan spat. “Four generations of Jarls were born there!

Kaelan and I were born there!” His eyes widened. “The Outlaw was born there!”

“Then it would be a shame to lose it, would it not, Sire?” the Duke pressed.

“Calm yourself, Duncan,” Kaelan warned, alarmed at his brother's impassioned face, “else you'll have a

stroke."

“YOU SHUT UP!” Duncan spun around and pointed a rigid finger. “ELSE I'LL SIGN ORDERS FOR

YOU TO BE EXILED!” he thundered.

Kaelan shrugged as though the threat was of no consequence at all. “Where the hell do you think I've

been these past five years, Duncan, if not in exile?"

Duncan moved quicker than any man there would have thought it possible for him to move. In a flash, he

was in front of Kaelan, fiercely gripping the arms of the chair in which the younger man sat, leaning over

so that he was almost nose to nose with his brother.

“YOU THINK THIS IS EXILE, LITTLE BROTHER?” he bellowed like an enraged bull, spittle flying

from his mouth. “WHAT WOULD TRANSPORT TO TYBER'S ISLE BE TO YOU, THEN?"

Lars Utley exchanged a quick glance with Landers. Hadn't the king-just three months past-signed the

orders that sent five men from the Tribunal cells of Tempest Keep aboard the Borstal, bound for Tyber's

Isle and the infamous penal colony known as the Labyrinth? The trackers shivered, wishing they could

cross themselves to ward off the danger of such a thing happening to them.

Kaelan stared up into his brother's enraged face and knew this was no idle threat. Their father had sent

many men to that particular hell-hole; had taken great delight in signing the transport orders, if truth were

known. To Landis Hesar, it was a mark of power to be able to wield such authority over other men;

Duncan was of the same bent, it seemed.

“What?” Duncan smirked. “No smart answer this time, Kaelan?"

Finally able to swallow the lump of fear that had shot up his throat, Kaelan put as much respect and

calmness into his voice as he could. “Is that what you want to do, milord?” he asked, searching his

king's—not his brother's—eyes. “Send your only brother to the Labyrinth?"

Duncan held that gaze, allowing Kaelan to see the very real threat of an unbearable future for himself.

After awhile, he watched as Kaelan lowered his eyes.

“You would,” was all the younger man said.

“In a heartbeat,” Duncan declared. Pushing himself up from the chair, Duncan took a cleansing breath,

turned and called for Rolf de Viennes to join them.

As though he had been primed to race down the stairs at a moment's notice, the twenty-four year old

Duke of Galeforce came rushing down to the cellar. His face was positively alive with excitement for he

had heard the threat of transport Duncan had made. “Will you be sending him to prison, then, Your

Majesty?” he asked, eagerness filling his youthful voice.

Duncan grunted with annoyance. “Of course not!” he huffed. “At the moment, he happens to be second

in line to the throne of your homeland, de Viennes, should that ogress to whom I'm married not produce

a living heir for me!"

Disappointment flitted over de Viennes’ face like a cloud passing across the sun, blotting out the light.

An instant pout came to Rolf's full lips and he glared spitefully at Kaelan, who was looking back at him

with silent contempt.

“But he raped my bride!” de Viennes protested, his hand going to the dagger at his thigh. “I demand

satisfaction!"

“In order to rape a woman, Rolfy-boy, she has to fight going under you,” Kaelan drawled. “With Gilly, it

was the other way around. She practically tore my clothes off."

Duncan groaned, threw up his hands and eyes to the heavens, but was forced to step quickly to the

Duke of Galeforce and grab him, for the boy had reacted very badly to Kaelan's insult.

“LIAR!!” de Viennes roared, snatching his twin-edged blade from the sheath at his thigh.

Had it not been for his king's arms around his upper shoulders, he would have leaped forward and

plunged the dagger into Kaelan's breast.

“Still yourself, man!” Duncan snapped, squeezing as hard as he could.

“He besmirched my Gillian's good name!” Rolf shrieked. “I will cut out his lying tongue for that!"

“Your Gillian?” Kaelan questioned, amused. “Hardly. I made her mine and mine she'll stay, boy."

“I demand satisfaction!” de Viennes roared.

Rolf de Viennes’ near ear-splitting scream of outrage stunned everyone in the room, even Kaelan. They

all stared at him, watching with bulging eyes as his struggles with his king became more violent and

insane; listening with unbelieving ears to the utter filth and mad senselessness spewing from his twisted

mouth.

“And you would let this demented fool have my daughter, Hesar?” Duke Cree's voice broke through the

shrieks and curses coming from Rolf's straining throat.

“Take him!” Duncan ordered Utley and immediately three men fell upon the wildly gyrating young

warrior and bore him away from the king's person. It took all three burly men to subdue and quiet de

Viennes enough to get him up the stairs and out of their monarch's sight.

When there was relative quiet coming from above stairs, Duncan turned to look steadily at his brother.

“He has asked for satisfaction and that is his right; I have no choice but to allow him to call you out. You

have made sure of that with you infernal insults, Kaelan."

“He can not defend himself from de Viennes!” Dakin protested. “Look at him, Your Grace! How can he

do battle with a man who has gone insane!"

“I can fight,” Kaelan lied, knowing he'd die at Rolf de Viennes’ hands if it came to hand-to-hand

combat. His leg would make it impossible for him to move with necessary fluidity; speed and endurance

were out of the question. “I can fight,” he repeated.

“If that nasty tongue of yours were a blade, you surely could inflict numerous mortal wounds!” Duncan

snorted.

“Is there honor in allowing a man in his prime to murder a cripple, Your Grace?” Dakin sneered.

“I am not a cripple,” Kaelan replied.

Dakin looked at his daughters’ lover. “Even I could take you, Hesar, and I am well-nigh fifty."

“You could try,” Kaelan said and smiled despite himself.

The Duke of Warthenham guffawed then turned to plead with Duncan. “In my country, it would be a

cowardly thing to do to turn lose that...” He pointed up. “Person upstairs to engage in combat with a man

both crippled and many years away from battle practice."

Duncan knew an insult when he heard one, but he chose to ignore it. “I did not say I was going to turn

Rolf loose to fight hand to hand combat with Kaelan. In my brother's present condition, he's liable to trip

and fall and impale himself on his own sword! There's other ways to settle this."

Dakin didn't like the sound of that. “What other means of satisfaction is there?” A horrified expression

raced across his face. “Surely you don't mean to send this helpless man to Tyber's Isle? That would be

like signing his death warrant!"

“I am not helpless!” Kaelan snapped, then sneezed so hard he had to put a hand to his ribs.

“That was a threat I am sorely beginning to wish I had not made,” Duncan fumed. “Although, should I

take my bumbling fool of a brother back with me to the Keep, the Tribunal might well send him there

anyway for all the trouble he's caused!"

“And I'm not a bumbling fool,” Kaelan stated.

“Then what do you intend to do?” Dakin demanded, feeling compelled to come to Kaelan's aid. “Lash

him?"

Kaelan started to speak, but stopped, looking to his brother for an answer to that.

Duncan sighed. “He says a priest Joined him and your daughter, legally. He thought he was wed to her.

That being the case, t'is not adultery he committed,” the king replied. “Lashing is not called for here."

“Castration?” Dakin voiced, keeping his gaze well away from the young man in question. “You'd let de

Viennes mutilate your own flesh and blood?"

“I think not!” Kaelan was quick to say. “Maybe my pecker, but certainly not his own, huh, Duncan?"

“For the love of Alel, Kaelan,” Duncan said, wearily, “do please be quiet while I think what to do with

you."

“You could just leave me alone,” Kaelan reminded him and was rewarded with a glare of irritation.

“No, I can't,” Duncan denied. “You've seen to that with your thievery of, and complicity in the running

away, of Rolf de Viennes’ lady-wife. Not to mention her debauchery."

Dakin winced at the word, but held out a hand to the king. “May I make a suggestion, Sire?"

“Anything that would be of help, would be most appreciated, Your Grace,” Duncan said, slumping

down to the last cellar step and burying his head in his hands. “The embarrassment to the throne once all

this gets out is going to make us a laughingstock throughout the Seven Kingdoms."

“It would be my suggestion,” Dakin began after casting a quick glance at Kaelan, “that you allow your

brother to quietly escape through the tunnel. Let him join my daughter in Serenia. Did I not hear that a

horse had been left there for him?"

Duncan's voice was muffled as he sat hunched over. “I can't be a party to him escaping. I am

honor-bound to uphold the law whether he does or not."

“I could knock you out,” Kaelan suggested cheerfully. “Tie up the Duke."

“You could try,” the Duke snorted, not without humor.

“At least let me knock you out, Duncan,” Kaelan suggested.

Lifting his head, the king gave his brother a nasty look. “Keep on baiting me, why don't you? Castration

is starting to sound more and more to my liking, Kaelan."

“What alternative is there if you don't allow him to escape?” Dakin asked.

With a tired sigh, Duncan pulled himself wearily from the stairs. He stood there for a moment—hands on

his hips, head down—thinking. At last, he sighed again, looked over at Kaelan. “I will take Rolf's

weapons from him,” he said. “He's never been that much of a fist fighter, you know that, but with your leg

the way it is, I'd say the two of you would be just about even."

“A fist fight?” Dakin asked, his brows drawn together over the thought. “Would that suffice?"

“It will if it's the only choice I give de Viennes.” Duncan shrugged as though the weight of the world were

on his shoulders. “After all: Kaelan is a prince of the royal house of Virago; Rolf is a lowly Duke of a

province that gives me mostly trouble rather than riches."

“That is the gentleman's way in Chale,” Dakin announced. “The settling of disputes by fisticuffs."

“Disputes, aye,” Duncan quipped, “but not mortal insults like the one my foolish brother has thrown at

the house of de Viennes. Those would be handled with blades, would they not?"

“True,” Dakin acknowledged. He looked at Kaelan. “Unless one of the men were lame."

“I am not lame, either!” Kaelan whispered with outrage.

“That is my decision, then,” Duncan stated, lifting his head and squaring his shoulders. “They can knock

each other senseless.” He started to climb the stairs.

Dakin watched until the king was out of sight then turned to see Kaelan pushing himself painfully from the

chair. “Can you take him?” he asked, almost feeling the stiffness that was apparent in the younger man's

leg.

“Who knows?” Kaelan replied. “I could once."

“But now?"

There was a fatalistic shrug. “Now, it's anybody's guess."

“Do I need to be worrying any more than I already am?"

Kaelan smiled. “What you really mean is, do I think he might well beat me to death?"

Dakin nodded.

“Let's hope not."

“But you're not sure?"

“No,” Kaelan answered. “I'm not sure."

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Ciona was a beautiful seaside town whose inhabitants waved hospitably as the trio of riders-minus the

good Brother Herbert Welmeyer, who had gone back to his rectory at Colridge-came cantering across