WindDeceiver (42 page)

Catherine held her breath, seeing her husband lunge toward the blade in his opponent’s hand. Conar’s belly was only an inch from that lethal black crystal dagger as he thrust forward with his own.

Jaborn felt the blade enter his body, sliding in without the barest hint of obstruction. The pain wasn’t as bad as he had always thought it had to be, but it was bad enough to make him moan.

He stared into McGregor’s face, wishing he had enough strength left to plunge his own blade into his enemy, but even as the thought crossed his mind, he felt his dagger drop from his hand.

Guil had a clear view of Conar McGregor’s face as he pushed the blade further inside Jaborn. The dagger went in to the hilt and the blow lifted Jaleel slightly off the floor.

Conar pushed against the dagger again, feeling the warm, sticky blood gushing over his fist.

He held the blade there, staring into Jaborn’s suddenly pallid face.

Jaleel Jaborn thought fleetingly of McGregor’s baby daughter; of how the child’s blood had flowed crimson on the red clay; of how her strangled cry had been cut short by the slicing of his blade across her tiny throat. A hiss of sound pushed through the chamber as the Daughters intercepted that random thought and Jaborn somehow knew when McGregor was through with him, these women would tear him to pieces. He looked into McGregor’s eyes and knew that man knew it, as well. The alien stare that glared back at him bore an intensity so malignant it was palpable, beyond human comprehension.

“Die, you motherfucker,” Conar snarled. He twisted the blade in his enemy’s gut then jerked up on it, slicing through muscle and organ. He jerked again until the blade was lodged in Jaborn’s chest bone and could go no higher.

Guil collapsed to the floor and buried his face in his hands. The Serenian had shown no mercy to Jaleel; he could expect none from him, either.

Everything wavered around Jaleel Jaborn and sounds seemed to be coming from far, far away. He thought he heard applause as McGregor’s blade was yanked out of him with a gush of intestine. He slowly sank to his knees, coming down with a soft thump that spilled more of him onto the cavern’s floor. Curiously, he looked down at the red mass puddled in front of him, then slowly looked up into his killer’s face.

“I just want you to know,” he heard Conar McGregor telling him, “You did not destroy me, Jaborn. You did not take away my mind.” There was absolute quiet in the chamber as the Outlander stepped behind Jaborn and grabbed a handful of his hair. “Nor did you succeed in making me believe I was the one responsible for my friends’ deaths.”

Sajin Ben-Alkazar watched his friend pull Jaborn’s head back and place the blade of his dagger against the man’s exposed throat. Conar’s words chilled him to the marrow of his bones and he felt Sabrina jerk against him in shock.

“What you did,” Conar said as he began his cut across Jaborn’s throat, “was piss me off!”

Shalu flinched as what was left of Jaborn’s blood geyser out of the gaping wound in his throat. He stared with shock as Conar brought his knee up and slammed it into the side of Jaborn’s head before letting the man drop to the cavern floor.

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Conar stood there, blood covering his hands and dripping down his thighs, and stared at the body of Jaleel Jaborn. When he turned around and the crowd saw his face, there was a gasp, then the women among them began to drop to the ground.

Sajin stared at his friend, unable to accept what he was seeing. Even as the women continued to kneel before Conar McGregor, he had trouble understanding what was going on. If he had not seen the horrible red slit eyes and the fierce green glow from those strange, strange eyes, he would not have believed it possible. “The Black Ascendency,” he heard someone whisper and he shivered.

Tyne Brell’s sword slipped from Conar’s hand and a woman reached out to take it, bringing the blood-slick steel to her bosom as though the weapon were a holy relic. She kissed the hilt tenderly, closing her eyes as she began to mumble a rune of thanksgiving for what the blade had brought about.

Catherine would have gone to her husband as he stood beside Jaborn’s still body, but Meggie put out her hand to stop her.

“Not now, girl,” Meggie whispered.

The Serenia looked about him, seemingly in shock, but when his gaze settled on Shalu, he lifted his red-smeared hand and pointed at the Necroman. His voice was infinitely tired and drained of inflection.

“There are five of our men in the chamber beyond. I want them taken from this place, Shalu.”

Shalu nodded. “I will see to it.”

McGregor swung his attention about the group, assuring himself the men who had been imprisoned there were alive and reasonably well. Then he found Sajin Ben-Alkazar’s face among them and his face softened to a small degree before tightening again as he found Guil looking at him warily.

“That man was as much a part of what was done here as was Jaborn,” he said, pointing at the Hasdu. “I leave it up to the Daughters what they want done with him.”

“Kill him!” the women shouted as they came to their feet in a rush of thundering sound.

“Kill him!”

Guil dropped to his knees, his hands up in pleading to the Outlander. “McGregor, please! I beg you! They will listen to you. I--“

Conar shook his head. “It is not up to me to decide your fate, Ben-Gehdrin and even if it were, I would not interfere with these women.” His gaze went to Meggie Ruck and held. “Their Mistress is the one to whom you should make your entreaty, not me.”

Wyn pushed through the crowd and went to his father. His expression was filled with immediate concern as he saw Conar waver. “Papa?” he asked, putting out a hand.

“Conar?” Chase asked, stepping away from Sabrina at the same moment. “Are you all right?”

Catherine rushed forward, ignoring Meggie’s advice, but her husband put his hand up before she could touch him. “No, Catherine,” he said, shaking his head. “I am not fit to have you lay hands on me.”

“Do you think I care?” his lady asked, her eyes blazing with insult.

“Give me time,” he answered, his own eyes pleading with her to understand. “I feel dirty, Catherine. Unclean. And I will not touch you until I--“ He staggered again and felt Montyne and Wyn’s hands closing on his arms to keep him from falling.

“Milord, please!” Catherine begged him. “Your wounds need tending to and--“

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“He needs a bath and clean clothes more than anythin’ else, girl,” Meghan advised, easing Catherine aside as she and Meggie stepped forward. The two old women took their Overlord from Chase and Wyn’s hold, staring the men down as they made to protest. “We know what he needs, lad,” Meghan told Chase. “And we will see to him.”

He let the women lead him away, aware of the eyes that followed them to the steep stairs.

Only once did he stop, looking back over his shoulder, his gaze unfailingly going to his lady.

“Give me time, Catherine,” he asked. “All I ask is that you give me time.”

Shalu followed the trio’s progress up the stairs, his attention glued to Conar’s bent head and tired footsteps. There was much he would never understand about the Serenian and from the looks of those who knew him well, their feelings were much the same. The black man turned to look at Montyne.

Chase shrugged. “They meant to break him, but what they did was bring the Demon back.”

“The Demon?” Balizar asked, not sure what the Ionarian meant.

“He’s like a rattlesnake, you know?” Thom Loure asked quietly. “Those beasties just coil up and lay there, minding their own business until someone comes tramping along, disturbing ‘em.

Then those creatures start to shake their tails to warn the fool not to mess with ‘em, to leave ‘em the hell alone. You don’t head that warning, you’re gonna be bit.” He shifted his attention to the dead man on the floor. “Like that one got bit.” Thom nodded his bald pate sagely. “I’m standing here thinking our rattlesnake ain’t finished striking, yet.”

THE END