Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - WindTales 02 (52 page)

of a mind to.

Behind him, Weir and Tiernan, who had dismounted as well, flanked Syn-Jern. Their weapons were

lowered, but it would not take much for either of them to bring those deadly blades into play. Weir was

looking at Genny, half-amused at the gag clenched between his sister's teeth. Tiernan was looking at the

sky, his forehead creased with concern as lightning began crawling across the firmament.

“Syn-Jern,” Tiernan said uneasily. “Have him hurry up. I don't like the looks of the sky."

“I've no great desire to be toasted, either,” Anson said, having heard the Serenian nobleman. He

stopped his horse a few feet from Syn-Jern, dismounted, then walked to Genny's horse. With great care,

he helped her down, fished in his pocket for the key to her shackles, unlocked them, them stepped back

as his prisoner jerked the gag from her mouth. “Lady, I am sorry I hit you,” he said earnestly, “but it was

a necessity."

Genny did not reply to his apology. She ran to her husband, grateful to feel his arms enclose her.

Grice Rynen was as loyal to the Tribunal as a man could be, but he made no move to stop the prisoner

from running across the border and throwing herself into the arms of the Outlaw. He was not a stupid

man and realized what the situation was.

He also knew what the stench wafting around them meant. He turned the head of his mount, put heels to

the steed's ribs and galloped away, never looking behind him.

“He'll protect his arse, I'm thinking,” Angie remarked as she went to her husband.

“Aye,” Anson allowed. “He'll tell them he didn't know what I was about.” He shrugged. “That is true.”

He enfolded his lady within the protection of his strong arms and looked over her head, straight into the

eyes of the Outlaw.

“He only did it to get her back, Anson,” Angie said quietly.

“I know why he did it, Angie, but that doesn't matter. I'm the one who'll have to pay for it."

Syn-Jern heard the remark. He eased Genny from him and pushed her toward Weir. “Come with us,

then,” he said. “Unless you're so enamored of the Tribunal you can see no other way of life."

Anson shook his head. “My life is in Virago, Sorn. I'll stand my punishment for allowing her to escape."

“They could well hang you,” Syn-Jern warned.

Angie tightened her grip around her husband's waist. She looked up into his worried eyes. “He is an

honorable man, husband. We could do no better than to go with him."

“You trust him?” Anson asked. At her nod, he demanded to know what of their children.

“I can send word to have them brought to us,” Syn-Jern told him. He shielded his eyes from the harsh

wind that had suddenly sprung to life around them.

“And have them be fugitives all their lives?” Anson queried. “What life is that for a child?"

“What life is it where a woman can be discarded like so much trash?” Genny asked.

Angie dug her hands into her husband's shirt. “She's right, Anson. We've two daughters to think of.

What if a nobleman wanted them as concubines? We would not be able to stop them."

“There is no such dishonor in Chrystallus,” Genny called out. “Come with us! Find a better way to live."

The wind began to roar so loudly, it was impossible to hear Anson Loure's reply. Around them, the

leaves were being whipped into frenzy and the tree branches overhead clicked together with a

vengeance.

Genny was shivering with the chill that had swept down from the Serenian Alps and was grateful for the

cloak her brother laid over her shoulders. She turned to thank him and as she did, her attention went to

the Western horizon.

She screamed and those gathered turned to see what had frightened her.

It was eel-like, Its elongated neck plated with ebon scales. Two glowing red eyes filled the sky as the

demon squirted across the heavens toward them.

“Raphian,” someone named the demon slithering out of the clouds.

The horses screamed with terror and began to twist and buck beneath their riders until all but a few of

the men had been thrown to the ground. The frightened animals bolted, turning tail and running back the

way they had come, the remaining riders hanging on for dear life.

“Syn-Jern!” Genny screamed, trying to walk against the wind to get to her husband. She put out her

hand; he put out his; and just as their fingertips touched, the sky split open with a vicious stab of lightning.

The wind pushed against Syn-Jern and he stumbled to the ground as a vortex swept past him, caught

Genny within its grip, and swirled her to the other side of the Gate.

Anson Loure was thrown against a tree and knocked unconscious, unaware that his wife was hovering

over him, shielding him from the flying debris being pitched about in the gale force winds.

“Genny!” Syn-Jern bellowed. He scrambled to his feet only to be tossed aside like a child's toy. He

rolled along the ground, barely missing the stampeding hooves of the fleeing horses of his men.

Weir and Tiernan had been forced to the ground; their arms over their eyes as stinging missiles of tree

limb and sand spiraled about them. The overpowering odor of sulfur and the punishing sand made it

difficult to breathe. Neither man was able to move in the crush of the devastating wind.

Lin Su, buffeted by a solid sheet of sand, was trying to reach his mistress, but the wind kept him back,

pushing him farther and farther from her with every step he tried to take.

Kerm Gill and his little brother had managed to bury their faces in the protection of their coats, but the

lashing wind whipped about their unprotected hands and left savage cuts on the flesh.

On the Viragonian side of the Gate, Genny was swept up into the funnel of the wind. Her hair was

whipping about her face, cutting her. She screamed with terror as the wind took her higher and higher.

Syn-Jern shielded his eyes from the stinging intrusion of the sand, but could not see his wife. He was on

the Serenian side of the border. “Genny!” he called.

“Sorn!"

With the calling of the name, the wind died completely. The sand fell from the air and pooled at the feet

of the men. Leaves and branches fell into heaps at the side of the road, and the air—though still saturated

with the stench of sulfur—grew still.

Weir was the first to notice the priest. He grabbed Tiernan's arm. “Demonicus!” he gasped.

Syn-Jern got to his feet, turning, searching for Genny. He yelled her name and would have crossed the

border into Virago had Tiernan not reached out to keep him from doing so. He glared at the priest.

“Where is my woman?” he shouted.

“Look!” the priest shouted and pointed toward the heavens.

Syn-Jern groaned with fear and fell to his knees, his head back as he stared at the sight above him.

Genny was suspended in mid-air as though she lay in the arms of an invisible giant. Hovering over her

was Raphian, the demon Destroyer of Men's Souls. The vile beast's maw was open, Its glistening teeth

sharp and dripping venom.

“You want her to die such a death, Sorn?” Demonicus asked.

“Genny,” Syn-Jern whispered as though his heart would break.

“Cross over,” Demonicus ordered and as he spoke a dozen or more horsemen rode into the clearing.

The priest had no need to turn to the Tribunal guards who had come to do his bidding.

“Syn-Jern, don't,” Tiernan warned. “He'll kill her anyway."

Weir was as white as the snow atop Mount Serenia. He stared at his sister's inert body and wondered if

she still lived.

“Aye, she lives,” Demonicus intoned and waved his hand. Genny lifted her head, realized where she was

and screamed again.

“Don't hurt her,” Syn-Jern pleaded.

“Cross over into Virago,” Demonicus told him.

Syn-Jern looked away from his wife, turning his full attention to Demonicus. “Don't hurt her."

“She is of no use to me and Raphian does not particularly care for the taste of female flesh,” Demonicus

answered, laughing at the stricken look on Syn-Jern's face. “Cross over, allow my men to bind you, and I

will place that whore as gently in her brother's arms as a feather falling to ground from a duckling's molt.”

He shrugged hatefully. “I'll even allow your men to go their own way. I want you, Sorn, not them."

“No, Syn-Jern,” Tiernan told him. “The bastard can't be trusted."

“What choice does he have?” Demonicus asked. “Either he surrenders to me or his precious wife will be

Raphian's next meal and I'll order the lot of you hunted down like the dogs you are!” He pointed to the

demon. “You can escape the Tribunal, but you will not be able to escape the retribution of the

Destroyer!"

Above them, the demon roared in anticipation of such a treat, its vile breath bringing instant nausea to

those gathered. Even the Arch-Prelate turned his head in disgust.

There was no choice, Syn-Jern knew. Genny, as well as his men, would be cast to the demon if he did

not obey Demonicus’ wishes. What was one life compared to all the others? Without giving himself time

to think of the agony in store for him, he stepped over the invisible line that separated Serenia—and

safety—from Virago. As soon as he was out of reach of his men, the Tribunal guards rushed toward him,

intent on subduing him, but neither they, nor the priest, counted on the awesome power Sorn could wield.

Before the first guard reached him, all six were flung backwards with the wave of the Outlaw's arm.

“Bring her down!” Syn-Jern shouted. When Demonicus did not move quickly enough for him, Syn-Jern

waved his arm again, and the Tribunal guards still mounted flew from their horses.

“Stop!” Demonicus ordered. In his haste to arrest the Outlaw, he had completely forgotten the man's

own magical abilities.

“Bring her down and I will allow your men to bind me. Until then...” Syn-Jern pointed a rigid arm at the

priest and Demonicus rose into the air and hung there, four feet from the ground.

The priest's thin mouth twisted with outrage and he turned his attention to Genny. With a sweep of his

red-clad arm, Syn-Jern's wife plummeted from the sky like a rock.

Lin Su gasped, his eyes popping from his head as he rushed forward. He caught his mistress, staggering

beneath her weight as she landed heavily in his arms, and went to one knee in the sand to keep from

dropping her.

“Take him!” Demonicus snarled.

With his men safely on the Serenian side of the board, his wife unharmed in the arms of her protector,

Syn-Jern made no attempt to escape as the Tribunal guards rushed him once more. He flinched as his

arms were dragged behind his back and the heavy manacles were clamped savagely around his wrists.

The weight of the chains pulled his shoulders back and the discomfort was immediate.

“Use your power, Syni,” Weir called out. “Use your power!"

“Aye,” Demonicus laughed. “Use your power, my sweet thief, and break free!"

Syn-Jern knew he could not. He hung his head as the guards put rough hands on his upper arms to lead

him to the horses.

“Syn-Jern, use your power!” Weir shouted. “Genny's safe. Use your power!"

“He can't,” Tiernan said quietly.

“Why not?” Weir demanded.

“The shackles are made of lead,” Demonicus answered for the McGregor. “No sorcerer can defeat that

element!"

Weir would have rushed across the border, some of his men with him, but Tiernan stepped directly into

Saur's path. “No,” he said. “Don't. You'll only end up as fodder for the demon."

Saur turned his attention skyward and groaned with frustration. Raphian was still lurking in the black

boiling sky, its forked tongue lapping hapless birds into its giant maw. Its crimson eyes glowed with

anticipation; the wicked fangs glinted with promise.

“We've lost him,” Tiernan said and his voice was filled with grief. “We can't fight a creature such as this

one."

“I will not accept that!” Weir hissed. He looked about them, searching for the only other man he knew

would risk life and limb to gain Syn-Jern's freedom. “Where is Patrick?"

No one knew. Kasella had not been with them when they had ridden from Ciona.

“Has no one seen him this morn?” Weir demanded, realizing that he had not seen Patrick since around

midnight.

The men shook their heads. Kasella's whereabouts were a mystery.

A moan from Genny as she began to regain consciousness brought her brother's immediate concern to

her. He ran to her and took her forcibly from Lin Su's arms. Cradling her against his chest, he smoothed

her hair and cooed to her.

“Syn-Jern?” she questioned.

Weir glanced at his brother-in-law as Syn-Jern's was placed astride one of the Tribunal horses. “We'll

get him back, Dearling. I promise you we will,” he told his sister.

Genny gasped, realizing what must have happened and began to struggle to break free of her brother's

hold. “Syn-Jern!” she yelled, scrambling to her feet. When she saw the predicament into which her

husband had fallen, she ran toward the Gate, intending to join him.

“Tiernan, stop her!” Syn-Jern shouted.

The McGregor leapt after the running woman and managed to grab her wrist just as she reached the

archway of the Gate. He jerked her backward and spun her into the hard imprisonment of his arms.

Although she fought him, twisting, and turning to break free of his grasp, he held her even tighter, refusing

to allow her to do so. She cursed him, scratched his arms, and kicked his shins with her bare feet, but her

struggles were in vain. Tiernan McGregor had no intention of allowing Syn-Jern's wife to join him in his