Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - WindTales 02 (55 page)

Maiden's Briar had paralyzed his vocal chords.

There would be no priest to give him absolution.

There would be no hood to block out the sight of the crowd as his neck snapped.

The rope was draped over his head and the noose tightened.

Patrick surveyed the crowd one last time and finally found the one face he'd been looking for.

On the balcony of the tax house, Lin Su lifted his hands and spoke to Patrick Kasella.

Patrick smiled.

What he had wanted to know, needed to ‘hear', had been said.

He could die happy.

And he did as the trapdoor sprang and his body dropped through the opening.

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EPILOGUE

He stood with his hands on the railing of the ship he called his own and stared out to sea. His midnight

blue eyes were glazed with an inner pain that kept all but the companion at his side from disturbing him.

The brisk sea wind tousled his long blond hair, whipping it around his face, but he did not seem to notice.

His entire being was concentrated on the landmass falling away behind them. He barely noticed the other

ship trailing in the wake of the Revenant.

Genny Sorn kept the silence with her husband. She did not reach out to touch him nor did she impose in

any way upon the grief that had engulfed him. Though she did not intrude on his self-imposed solitude,

she knew he did not wish for her to leave his side. The one time she had tried, he had reached out a

gentle hand to stay her. So she kept vigil with him as the last faint smudge of Virago's coastline

disappeared beneath the rim of the horizon.

“We will return, Patrick,” Syn-Jern whispered. “On my honor, I swear we will return and bury you

properly.” He reached for his wife's hand, needing the comfort only she could give.

Genny threaded her fingers through Syn-Jern's and leaned against his arm, sensing he was ready to

acknowledge her presence.

“I will bring you home, Patrick,” she heard her husband say. “Home to Holy Dale."

He turned from the rail and looked up into the clear blue of the heavens, then hung his head and began to

cry.

At the helm of the Revenge, Weir looked away from the sight of his sister comforting her husband. He,

too, was feeling the awful grief of having lost his best friend. Many on board the Revenge were going

about with reddened eyes this day.

Save for the lone woman at the rail who was as silent as the Chrystallusian aboard the Revenant.

“She ain't gonna have an easy time of it, is she, Weir?” Sara asked as she huddled beneath the warmth

of her new husband's great cape.

Weir cast another look at Rosa-Lynn Sorn and shrugged. “She'll make the most of whatever's sent her

way. Her kind always do."

Tiernan nodded his agreement. “But I think just narrowly escaping with her head intact has put the fear

of the gods in that one,” he said, begrudgingly admiring the beauty of Rosa-Lynn.

“She helped him, though,” Kerm put in. “Weren't for her, that plan of Kasella's wouldn't have worked."

“Lucky for Syni you went back to Holy Dale to make sure Sara and Drae was gone,” Bryce Heil

quipped.

Kerm nodded. “Aye, well she ain't paid me my twenty gold pieces yet!"

Heil grinned. “Since she come onboard the Revenge with nothin’ but the clothes on her back, don't hold

your breath in getting them twenty gold pieces, Gill!"

Angie Loure smiled at her husband and wiggled closer against him as the brisk wind churned the sea

around them. “Best go check on the bantlings,” she told him and Anson gave her a gentle kiss on the

nose.

“Everybody's got a woman, but me,” Tiernan complained and his eyes went once more to Rosa-Lynn

Sorn.

Kerm started laughing and the others turned to look at him. He shook his head. “I was just remembering

what the lad says to me when he comes awake on the Revenant."

Anson was the only one not privy to the remark and when the others laughed, he asked to be let in on

the joke.

“Well, he was right comical, really,” Kerm chuckled. “At first he was all groggy and didn't know where

he was. When he realized what Kasella had done, he got all miffed and said he was getting tired of

people drugging him all the time."

The others laughed, then sobered as Kerm's face lost its smile.

“But then he understood just what Kasella had done and he was real upset."

“Took four of us to hold him down,” Weir said quietly.

“And drug him,” Sara put in, her remark bringing uneasy laughter.

“It was a touching thing Patrick did,” Tiernan said. “And I hope one day Syni will understand why

Patrick had to do it."

“He knows,” Rosa-Lynn said, turning to face the others. She pulled her wrapper closer around her

shoulders. “Patrick could not have lived if they had hanged Syn-Jern. He would not have wanted to and

would have taken his own life.” She shuddered with the chill and with the emotions running rampant

through her. “I believe that as surely as I believe Syn-Jern Sorn will return to Holy Dale one day as her

master. I'll sign the papers over to his firstborn and on the day Demonicus dies, that child can inherit what

is rightfully his.” She shivered again, her lips trembling.

“Are you cold, Milady?” Tiernan asked and flung the great cape from his shoulders. He went to her and

draped the heavy wool around Rosa-Lynn.

Sara Saur frowned. “Damn me if I don't believe he ain't gonna get him a woman ‘fore this trip is out!"

Weir sighed. “The gods help him,” he replied.

* * * *

The elderly couple walked hand in hand to the glade beside the pond and stood there in silence for a long

while. Just as the sun began to set, the old woman laid a blood red rose atop a grassy mound marked

with a single stone. Together, they said the prayers for the dead, then sat down on a fallen tree trunk to

watch their grandchildren splashing in the pond.

The old man lowered his head and began to mumble. To his grandchildren, it was a sign of his advancing

senility, but the old woman sitting beside him knew the truth of it. He was talking to an old friend, telling

news of mutual acquaintances and asking for a forgiveness she knew wasn't necessary.

To the casual passersby who might be on their way to Wixenstead Village, the family who lived at Holy

Dale manor was an enigma.

The wealthy old couple had purchased the manse ten years before, but no one knew from whence

they'd come. They kept to themselves, yet never turned a needy person from their door. It was common

knowledge in the village that if you needed help, Patrick Kasella and his wife Genevieve were the ones to

ask.

Only a very select few knew the old man was really the Outlaw, Syn-Jern Sorn, and the old woman was

Genny, the love of his life.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Charlee is the author of thirteen books, the first nine of which are the WindLegend Saga. She is a

member of the Romance Writers of America, the HTML Writer's Guild, and Beta Sigma Phi Sorority.

Married thirty-two years to her high school sweetheart, Tom, she is the mother of two grown sons, Pete

and Mike, and the proud grandmother of Preston Alexander and Victoria Ashlee.

A native of Sarasota, Florida, she grew up in Colquitt and Albany, Georgia and now lives in the

Midwest. Currently, she is at work on a new book.

Visit Charlee's web site: http://www.windlegends.com/

Visit www.twilighttimesbooks.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.