WindDeceiver (23 page)

“He has to be told!” Chase told her, looking down into her tearful face, seeing her fear.

“This is his decision to make, but I know my friend: he’ll bring that fortress down around Jaborn’s ears to get his men back, especially if his eldest boy is one of those held.”

“And his lady,” Meggie sobbed.

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Chase ground his teeth. “And his lady!”

“There is an Outer Kingdom ship in the harbor at Asaraba. I sent men there to tell them of what had happened. I asked that those they could spare come here to the farm and the rest return to St. Steffensberg to gather extra forces,” Kharis informed Chase. “I left my brother’s boy, Haji, there to lead them here.”

Montyne nodded. “Good idea. Once the Tzar finds out his daughter’s being held captive, he’ll send the entire might of the Outer Kingdom to help get her back.”

“It won’t do any good no matter if he sent a million men,” Sabrina sobbed, holding out her hands to her lover. “You’ve never seen that place, Montyne! It can not be taken!” She turned to Meggie, fusing her terrified gaze with the older woman’s. “It is a Gateway into the Abyss!”

At her words, Chase spun around and gawked at her. “What did you say?”

“Your power is no good here, Montyne,” she sobbed, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

“You can not sense here what those of us who are bound to the Magi can.”

Meggie wobbled on her feet. “You’re a sorceress?”

Sabrina didn’t look at the woman. Her gaze was riveted on Chase. “Norus Keep was one of the Gateways and it fell, Montyne. The monastery was another and it fell. But there are two more and they are the most aptly-defended of the entrances into the netherworld. Abbadon is by far the most protected by Raphian for it is His lair! There is no way to take it!”

Montyne shivered at her words, but his face did not lose its determination. He was stunned to learn that the woman he had been sleeping beside, making love to, falling in love with, was a magic-sayer, but somehow the news didn’t concern him all that much.

“I have to go to Conar,” he told her.

“Montyne!” Sabrina cried out, throwing herself at him, clinging to him. “I will not let you go!”

As surprised as she had been to learn this pretty black woman was a child of magic, Meggie shrugged away the knowledge and stepped forward to take her the Ionarian. She pulled on the woman’s arms, telling her to let go, demanding she not interfere.

“He knows what he has to do,” Meggie told her, struggling to keep the woman from escaping. “Let him be about it.”

Sabrina turned on the old woman and was about to scream at her, to berate her for daring to intrude, but the look in the Serenian woman’s face was one that stilled Sabrina in her tracks.

“This is men’s work,” Meggie said, locking her gaze with the black woman’s. “We let them do what has to be done.”

Somehow she found her tongue. “And if they fail?” Sabrina whispered.

Meggie drew her into her strong arms. “Then others will succeed where they fail,” she answered, patting the worried woman on the back.

Kharis looked back as he was about to follow Montyne from the room and his gaze met the old woman’s. There was an intent stare glaring back at him that made the hair stir on his arms.

Meggie Ruck’s face was hard, cold, and her eyes were steady as she looked at him.

“No one hurts my lad,” he heard her mumble. “No one and them get away with it!”

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King Shalu Taborn of Necroman exited the tavern and peered up at the lowering sun. He’d drank his fill of ale and was ready to go in search of the men. He hadn’t seen the Outer Kingdom ship in the harbor when he entered Asaraba, idly wondering why, but thinking maybe they’d returned to St. Steffensberg once they had deposited the men of the Wind Force on Rysalian soil.

Balizar had gone off to visit a lady of his acquaintance, promising to meet Shalu the next morning at the inn where Shalu would be staying.

“Nyja makes the best roast chicken in Rysalia,” Balizar had said, winking. “I’ve not met many who could satisfy my appetites like she can!”

The Necroman sighed, thinking maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some grub in his own rumbling belly before he sat out to find Roget and the others. There wasn’t to be another raid on any slave camps for several days and there was time to contact the others.

He looked about him, saw several places that looked interesting. He sniffed, then smiled.

The heavenly aroma of veal was wafting toward him on an errant breeze. “Ah,” Shalu grinned, rubbing his hands together. His purposeful stride took him toward the tavern from where the delightful smell was coming.

Azalon laid down a card and grinned at Yuri. “Twenty golden Senis, my friend,” he informed the Shadow-warrior.

Yuri snarled, throwing down his cards. “I don’t understand this game!” he grumbled.

“Who does?” Azalon chuckled. Scooping up his winnings, he looked about him. “Who wishes to try his luck this evening?”

Rupine shook his head. “Not me. I know better than to play Fost with a Hasdu.”

Sajin declined as well. “I’m not lucky at cards.”

Azalon, who had not been able to go on the day’s raid because of a sprained ankle, craned his neck back to look at Asher. “How about you?”

Asher smiled. “Thank you, but I don’t gamble.” He got up and stretched. “When are we to leave for the Lady Sabrina’s?”

Sajin stood up also. “Seven, I think.” He looked up at the dark heavens. “The meal is at nine.”

“We’ll have to spend the night there,” Azalon protested in a bored voice . When the others looked at him, he grinned mischievously. “Which is a shame, don’t you think, gentlemen?” At their snorts of humor, he turned an innocent look to Sajin. “Have you ever visited her establishment by the Nilus, Your Grace?”

Sajin blushed and looked away. “Once.”

“A grand place,” Azalon sighed. “A most worthy place.”

“A whorehouse,” Rupine said.

“But a grand whorehouse,” Azalon corrected.

Rachel couldn’t help but smile as she listened to the men outside her tent as they sat about, eagerly awaiting the time for them to leave for Sabrina’s farm. She wondered if Khamsin was just as eager to go and thought perhaps he was, but not for the same reason as the other men. It would be his friend, the Ionarian, whose company he sought, not the velvet arms of a prostitute. He had asked her to join them, but she had declined, citing her reluctance to visit such a place.

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“You will not be offended, Rachel,” Khamsin had promised her. “I will see to that.”

“Go and enjoy yourself, milord,” she had laughed. “Your men deserve such entertainment.

My presence will only hinder them from taking complete advantage of the feast.”

He had understood her meaning well enough and had had the grace to look embarrassed.

His high color had brought laughter to Rachel’s eyes and a stern look from him.

“Be careful, woman,” he’d warned her. “You want to be treated as one of the warriors and I will grant you that. Disrespect from you will be treated just as disrespect from one of the men.”

His sensuous lips had creased into a teasing smile. “I’ll turn you over my lap just as readily as I will them.”

Coming out of her tent, Rachel saw the man entering Khamsin’s tent. She didn’t recognize him, but that wasn’t so unusual. Since the Outlander had joined their group of freedom fighters, many strangers had come into camp bearing messages for their leader. Most were informers who, having heard there was a man worthy of leading the rebellion against slavery in Rysalia, had come to seek his help in freeing members of their families. Khamsin, much to his credit, had never turned even one of these seekers down.

She glanced toward the campfire and saw that no one had noticed the man going into Khamsin’s tent. That was strange, though, she thought. Normally, they were extra careful of the Outlander’s safety, going so far as to post guards at his tent during the late evening and early morn just in case an enemy try to harm him. Since no one had paid attention to the man who had slipped quietly into Khamsin’s quarters, he must already have passed inspection by the guards posted at the perimeter of the camp and be known to those gathered at the fire.

Going to the camp fire, she smiled at her brother, then sat down beside him. Her warm gaze fell on Sajin Ben-Alkazar and held. He was staring back at her with a gentle look on his fine features. Whenever the two of them chanced to meet, his look never failed to remind her that she was half in love with this tall Prince. The gaze was hot, steamy, and it was obvious he appreciated the way she looked for his bold stare would slowly travel the length of her before settling with unerring desire on her lips.

“It’s time we saddled up,” Rupine remarked, looking from the Prince to Rachel. He sensed the heady attraction between the two of them and wondered if the young Prince wouldn’t be happier with one of his own than with the Outer Kingdom Tzarevna Khamsin wished him to have.

Sajin tore his eyes from Rachel with great reluctance. He had been studying her all week, finding everything in her he had often desired of a mistress, admitting to himself that he found her remarkably receptive to his lustful glances. He had yet to make a move, but the time was only moments away, he thought. If he was to ever taste the lushness of her sultry lips, it would have to be before Conar finally gave Catherine into his keeping.

“Riders,” Asher said, coming to his feet.

The other men stood up, their hands going to their weapons. The sound of many hooves and harness was jingling through the night air.

“Get Conar,” Sajin told Yuri and the Shadow-warrior hurried away.

“It’s only Montyne,” Rupine said with heartfelt relief as he recognized the man leading the riders. “Come to escort us, I suppose.”

Rachel had headed for her tent, to get her bow, but at Rupine’s words, she had stopped and turned to face the men entering the camp. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two dark shapes melting into the darkness. Frowning, she walked around the tent.

“Where’s Conar?” was the first thing Chase shouted as he slid from his mount’s back.

“I’ve sent Yuri after him,” Sajin answered. “What’s happened?”

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“I’ll wait until Conar joins us to explain,” Chase answered. He looked about them.

“Where’s Shalu?”

“Gone back to Asaraba,” Sajin told him. When Montyne paled, he put out a hand to clasp the Ionarian’s shoulder. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

Yuri’s bellow of anger shook the entire camp. “He’s gone!”

“Who is?” Asher asked, knowing even before he asked.

“His sword is gone, too!” Yuri cursed, kicking at the sand. “As is his mount!”

Chase turned his eyes to Sajin. “Jaborn has his lady, Ben-Alkazar.” The Ionarian swallowed. “And eleven of the Wind Force, including his son, Wyn.”

Sajin’s breath caught in a painful clutch in his chest. “How?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Chase answered, “but we need to find Taborn. Alel, help us, if they’ve got him, too!”

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Conar risked a look at the man riding beside him. He had an uneasy feeling about the man who had come to tell him Sentian Heil wanted to meet secretly with him beyond the camp.

“He says to tell you there is treachery within your group, Your Grace,” the man had said as he had handed Sentian’s Wind Medal into Conar’s keeping. “He bides you come for he has information he knows you will want.”

The Serenian had looked down at the medal, recognizing it as one of twelve Occultus had had minted for the men of the Wind Force before they had left Chyrstallus many years before. The medal bore the Darkwind symbol on the front and the owner’s initials on the back. He had traced the S.Y.N. with his thumb, then looked at the messenger.

“Did he say who he distrusted?”

The messenger had shaken his head. “He did not tell me, Your Grace. I think he feared I would be detained and forced to tell should he give me the traitor’s name.”

So soon after learning of Storm Jale’s duplicity, Conar had accepted the man’s tale at face value. “Where does he want to meet?” The medal had been slipped into the pocket of his breeches.

“At the Dhurn wadi, Your Grace. We must hurry before it is time for you to leave for the Lady Sabrina’s.”

Conar hadn’t thought to question the man’s knowledge of the feast being held in his honor.

In his haste to reach Sentian, he had not been as overly cautious as he should have been and was at that moment regretting having come secretly out into the desert with a stranger. Not that the man had given him any reason not to trust him. On the contrary, he had appeared open and trustworthy, but there was still a niggling feeling creeping over Conar that he was going to regret his rash decision to venture out without telling anyone where he was going and why.

“Not much further!” the man yelled across to him as their mounts galloped at break-neck speed over the cool desert sands. There was a brief flash of white teeth as the man spoke and to Conar’s overactive imagination, the grin had been predatory.

Looking about him, he saw nothing but the lumps of dunes off to his right. The deeper into the desert they rode, the stronger the feeling of unease and Conar was about to rein in his steed when the attack came.

“There! It is him!”

He yanked back so hard on his mount’s reins, the horse reared up in high pitched protest, its front hooves digging into the air as it fought the tight bit in its sensitive mouth. As the horse’s legs came down, the violent impact sent Conar hurtling over the steed’s head. He hit the sand so hard his teeth clicked together and he tasted blood. The sword strapped to his back dug its point painfully into his left hip as he tumbled and gouged into his back as he came to a stop, staring with confused eyes at the twinkling stars overhead.