WINDDREAMER (13 page)

"And that was when you made him deathly afraid of being in closed, tight places," Raja said in disgust.

"He didn't like the coffin." Kaileel's voice went low, soft, pained. "He woke inside, screaming, clawing at the wood. I could hear him pleading with me to get him out."

"That must have made you feel powerful," she grumbled.

He turned haunted eyes toward her, while tiny lines of grief creased his brow--the first sign of humanity she had ever seen displayed on his face.

"When he was brought back to me, there was such a piteous look on his face, and I used that feeling he was experiencing to put more holds on him. I told him he was a part of us, like us, and once he was on the outside, going about Domination business, he was to never reveal what had happened. If he did, he would be brought back to remain here for the rest of his life."

A tear fell from Raja's eye. She angrily brushed it away. Her heart, black as it was, ached for the innocent boy of so long ago. She knew now why he had never uttered a word to his father about what had been done to him. It was more than the shame of it; it was the terror that it might happen all over again.

"A year later, Jah-Ma-El was sent to Norus and Conar tried to kill himself." Tohre closed his eyes to the memory. "He managed to escape."

"How?"

"I don't know, but I suspect one of the priests allowed him to. He went home to Boreas. He arrived late that evening, surprising the guards. No one thought to wake his father to let him know Conar had returned. He had asked them not to, saying morning would be time enough to surprise the family. Who ever thought to question the Prince Regent? If one of the servant girls hadn't wondered at the look in his eyes, Conar might well have died that night. As it was, she woke Hern Arbra and that son-of-a-bitch did something right for the first time in his worthless life--he went to Conar's room. It was him who found Conar with his wrists slashed open by a dagger he had stolen from the armory. He sent the girl after Cayn, and the Healer was able to save Conar's life."

"No thanks to you. It's a wonder you didn't storm the keep and demand his return."

"The King would not allow him to come back to the monastery. We tried. Tolkan even suggested kidnapping him, but I warned against that. Gerren McGregor would've had every soldier within a thousand miles on our doorstep. The Tribunal feared that Conar would tell his father what had happened, but I had no such fear. I had taught him well."

"
Scarred
him well," Raja shot back. "And have kept on scarring him ever since!"

"I loved him! Don't you see that? And like any spurned lover, I sought revenge on him. The older he got, the more the revenge seemed impossible. He feared me, aye, but that fear was not the control I wanted over him. He balked at me at every turn, going so far as to fall in love with that bitch of Raphaella's! If she could have been taken from him, he would have eventually turned to me!"

Raja shook her head with wonder that the man could be so blind in his failings. He would never have had Conar under his total control. There would have always been the tugging of Conar's great, eternal love for Elizabeth Wynth that kept him back.

"You love him, too," Kaileel accused. "You wanted him and he denied you. How does that make
you
feel?"

"It doesn't make me insane with revenge."

"You want him nevertheless." Kaileel sidled closer to her. "Perhaps when the transmergence is accomplished, I will let you have his body."

Raja's felt her face drain of color. She stared at Kaileel with shocked, stunned eyes. "Transmergence?" she whispered, not believing what she had heard. "That isn't what you said--"

"It is what I will do!" Kaileel bellowed. "I will have him totally mine once that conjuring is done."

"You can't!"

"I can--and I will!"

Raja backed away from the insanity in the man's flaring eyes. She did not want to see Conar die--that was not part of either of their plans. To weaken him to the point of death and capture his soul as it began to leave his body, to chain it to them, to make him malleable to their suggestions--that had been the plan. Though that had not been accomplished, she wished with all her heart that Conar had truly died, for she did not want to see him enslaved to Kaileel Tohre in the way the madman planned.

Transmergence.

The evil word wound through her head, slithering like an oil slick. Nothing could ever have been planned as revenge so vile.

Kaileel laughed, his eyes glowing. "It's your choice. You can have his body if you like, such as it will be, but I shall have his immortal soul...merged with my own!"

Conar's wounds kept him convalescing for more than two weeks. The old fever returned to debilitate him, sending him into fits of bone-shattering chills and sweat-drenched delirium.

His anger at being laid low for so long, at having to wait to confront Kaileel Tohre, made his room off-limits for most. But Liza had all but moved into his room, gossip be damned, her pert chin lifted to anyone who tried to talk sense into her.

At the beginning of the third week, Conar got up, walking unsteadily but gaining strength. In the middle of the week, he ventured outside. And by the end of that week, he rested only when Liza insisted and gave no quarter. During one such afternoon "rest," Conar cried out in his sleep.

"Conar! Wake up! You're dreaming, little brother. Wake up, now!"

Brelan shook him until Conar's eyes leveled with his. Sweat drenched Conar's face, and his entire body shook as though the fever had returned yet again.

"God," he whispered, heaving, pushing himself up. He ran a quivering hand through his hair. "It seemed so real."

Brelan laid his hand on Conar's shoulder. "I was walking by and heard you screaming in your sleep. It's all right. It was just a dream."

Conar squeezed his eyes shut. His heart pounded, and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears like the roar of a mighty ocean. His mouth trembled and he moaned, a soft whisper of despair that echoed from deep within his throat.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Brelan asked.

"I've had the dream before," Conar answered in a ragged breath. "Many times before. It's always the same."

"The nightmare from the Labyrinth?"

"No, one I had long before I went there."

"Tell me about it. Sometimes it helps." Brelan pulled up a chair and sat down. "Is it about Tohre?"

For a few moments the silence stretched out while Conar gathered his thoughts. He willed his heart to stop its frantic beat and his body to stop quivering. He felt fear all the way to his gut, and it hurt. He took long, deep breaths until he decided he could talk in a normal, rational way that Brelan would understand. Finally, he looked at his brother.

"What?" Brelan asked, outwardly alarmed at something he must have seen in Conar's expression.

"The dream was about Elizabeth." Conar's eyes misted. "And you."

"There is nothing between us now. I'm going to marry Ammie."

"It isn't that."

"Then what?"

Conar paused, uncertain whether to continue, full of pain, despair--and terror. "Long ago, when I saw the two of you together at Ciona, I felt as though I could have killed you. When the dreams started, I thought it was a natural offspring from that jealousy and hatred. The dreams are always so real, so intense. It's almost as though I'm watching the future. Everything has such a sharp edge, so clear, so concise. It's too real not to be." He lowered his eyes. "I've awakened just like tonight, sweating, shaking, so sure that what was happening was real, I've often thought my heart would explode from the fear."

Brelan put his hand on his brother's. "Whatever it is, it's just a dream. Nothing more. There's no reason to be afraid."

"The dreams stopped when I was in the Labyrinth. I haven't had them until tonight. And the gods help me, Brelan, I don't want these dreams back again."

"We all have dreams. You remember the nightmare I had when I was little? That Hern was chasing me with a giant axe? The damned thing was ten times bigger than him. I could actually feel the air swooshing past me when he swung it. I was, what?--twenty-five, thirty?--when I finally realized what that dream was about." A wicked grin crossed his face. "After Papa gave me over to Hern for training when I was ten, the first thing he did was have me chop this big stack of wood. I was so offended, believing that a servant's job, not a warrior's, I paid one of the stableboys to do it. Hern was impressed with the job and he bragged on me, but I always felt guilty for not having chopped the wood myself." He laughed. "Usually that's what brings on our recurring dreams--memories and guilt."

"Damn it, Brelan!" Conar snapped. "This is no dream like that! This dream is almost like an insight into what's going to happen!"

"So now you're clairvoyant? Another gift from Occultus' bag of tricks? Just what happens in this dream? Do I take Elizabeth away from you at last?"

"Don't patronize me!" Conar flung back the covers. He swung his legs to the side of the bed and bent forward, burying his face in his hands. "It's serious, Brelan.
I'm
serious!"

"Tell me about the dream."

"I don't think--"

"
Tell me!
" Brelan hissed, taking Conar's arm and shaking him.

It took a moment for Conar to make up his mind, but the pressure on his arm, tight in his brother's grip, warned him that Brelan would not be put off. "I'm walking on a beach. Somewhere in Oceania, I think...I'm not sure. The sand is black like in Oceania, as black as the pit. Volcanic. But there are snow-capped mountains in the distance. I can see storm clouds brewing way out to sea, and the air is intense with heat. The waves are coming in so fast and so hard, they nearly sweep me off my feet. I see something lying ahead of me, on the sand in the breakwater. I walk toward it, even though I want to run away, but my feet carry me forward. I try to turn my head, and I can't. I try to close my eyes, and I can't. Something, or someone, is determined that I see what I don't wish to see..."

"Go on."

Conar looked into Brelan's eyes. "I move closer to what's lying there and I finally see it. I can hear myself moaning, crying. I want to scream, and I can't. I want to call out to ease the burning in my throat, and I can't. All I can do is watch what's happening in the waves." His lips trembled with emotion.

"What do you see?"

"You...you and Liza." The words felt as though they were being torn from him. "Lying in the waves. Making love."

"It never happened--"

"Her face is shining with her pleasure as you take her, and it tears through me like a knife. It hurts more than you can imagine, Brelan."

"You don't have to worry about that happening. Neither she nor I would let it."

Conar's head fell back and he stared at the ceiling. His voice became lethargic as he continued. "Suddenly the air turns frigid and the sky lowers. Lightning flashes and the thunder drowns out the soft sounds of pleasure coming from the two of you. I try to warn you to watch out for the storm, but I can't speak. And then, as though an unseen hand is turning my head, I look out at the ocean and see a giant tidal wave bearing down on you. I want to pull you out of the way, but my feet won't move."

Tears coursed down his cheeks, and his words broke. He sniffed.

"Somehow I understand that at the exact moment you claim her, the wave will break over and drown you both, but there isn't anything I can do to stop it. I stand and watch while you take her away from me, and then while the wave takes you both away." He doubled over, hugging himself with pain. "I lose her, Brelan. I lose her to the water! I lose you both to the water!"

Brelan gathered Conar into his arms, shushing his sobbing. "It won't happen," he said firmly. "None of what you dreamed will happen." He lifted Conar's chin and peered deeply into his eyes. "No one is going to take Elizabeth away from you, or separate you and me. Do you hear me?"

"I hope you're right."

"I know I am. It'll never happen."

"He stowed away!" Holm strode down the gangplank, Sentian Heil close on his heels. "We didn't have no idea he was on board until we got near to Matheny's Cay!" He turned and fixed Sentian with a rigid stare. "Now who's going be telling ConaR? Not me! No sirree!"

Sentian grimaced, following as closely behind Holm as he could. His gut told him there'd be hell to pay before the day was out.

"Me, just minding my own business," Holm fumed, his black boots thumping along the quay. He looked like a stampeding bull. "Making good time coming through the straits, I was. And what do I get? Tarnes, all gooey-eyed and mumbling, telling me that little bastard had stowed away!" He stopped suddenly, Sentian having to back-pedal to keep from plowing into him. "I should have keelhauled his ass! Should have made him walk the plank in shark-infested waters!"

Sentian released a long, aggravated sigh--Regan. The boy had somehow managed to escape his watchdogs in Chrystallus and hidden himself on
The Ravenwind,
burrowing in the cargo hold until he was sure the ship was well out to sea and incapable of turning back.

"Conar's goin' to cat-'o-nine us all!" Holm predicted. His big face set in a frown of hopelessness. "He's gonna take my ship away from me, he is!" Holm swallowed hard. "And I wouldn't blame him!"

"I don't think--"

"He's gonna have us tossed in the brig!" Holm jumped onto the steps leading to the keep. "Hold us in irons 'til we're old men! Not even the Emperor's gift will soften him up."

"Gift?"

Holm thought a moment. "He don't know it yet. Best maybe if I show him the gift first, don't you agree? Let him see that, then ease into telling him I done let his son come back to try and murder him again." The face crumbled with despair. "Oh, Alel! He's gonna keelhaul me!"

"Maybe if you tell--"

"I'll have them bring out that gift before they drag that son-of-a-bitch from the hold." He glanced back at Sentian. "I didn't chain up the little bugger, but I locked his conniving ass in a cabin. Took his butt down to the hold when we neared harbor." A shudder went through the man. "I ordered every tar on that ship--tell anyone we got that viper on board and I'll keelhaul your ass from here to Fealst!" He resumed his long strides, angrily thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his breeches. He hunched his massive shoulders. "Aye, that's what I'll do. I'll have the men bring him his gift. Let him see that. Tell him--maybe tomorrow--about the brat."

Sentian looked at the heavens, rolling his eyes.

Conar ran his hands over the withers of a sleek, black stallion. The animal side-stepped away, flinging his angular head and tossing his shiny midnight mane. One massive hoof pawed at the stable floor.

Lifting one of the steed's strong front legs, Conar whistled when he saw the bright silver horseshoe nailed to the hoof.

"The Emperor had 'em made special," Tarnes acknowledged, spitting tobacco juice into a pile of straw. "They're supposed to be stronger than regular silver. Special properties, they say."

"What do you think of him?" Holm asked.

"What's his name?" Conar countered.

"His Celestial Majesty named him Demonwind," Ching-Ching answered, "because when he runs, his hooves strike sparks of fire."

"Demonwind," Conar whispered, like a lover saying his woman's name. He patted the sleek nose and looked the horse in the eye as it lowered its head. Something tangible passed between man and beast; something preternatural and secret only the two of them understood.

"The Empress said this beastie was hell-spawned during one of the worst storms to hit there in a long time," Tarnes said. "His dam died giving birth to him. The father was an offspring of Seayearner's, one you sent there right after you married the lady."

"One of the them was a foal of 'Yearner's and 'Keeper's. Are you one of their progeny, boy?" Conar smiled when the horse whinnied. "I like him even more than I did when I first saw him. He's magnificent."

"We got another one that the Empress sent your lady," Holm said. "She's a milk-white beauty with a long, thick mane. Pretty as a picture. Her eyes are odd, though--pink. Never seen a horse with pink eyes before." Holm pointed at the stallion's hooves. "Shod with that silver just like him, too."

The ancient talespinner's stories of the Great Warrior and his Lady-wife throbbed through Conar's mind. He'd heard the legend since he had been old enough to understand about the black hell-steed and the albino mare, which were the lovers' mounts.

"When you're able to ride him, we'll give you that special saddle Pearl made for you," Holm said, obviously seeing the pleasure on Conar's face at the mention of the friend he'd made in Chrystallus. "Said to tell you the saddle will do this man-o'-war proud. No fripperies and such. Said you'd understand."

Conar grinned. Grabbing a handful of the horse's mane, he gently tugged, letting the stallion know he wanted it to exit its stall. Conar whispered in the steed's ear; the beast bobbed its head.

"What are you planning?" Ching-Ching asked.

Conar walked the horse into the fresh morning air. The coat shone blue-black in the sunlight As the animal tossed its head, flinging his mane, it nickered in reply to Conar's low whistle.

Gripping the horse's mane, Conar swung himself onto the steed's back. Though he felt a moment of pain, he also experienced intense pleasure at being astride the magnificent destrier.

"Don't you even think about riding that horse!" Ching-Ching demanded. "You aren't--"

Conar wagged his brows at Ching-Ching, then clucked his tongue and kicked his heels into the horse's side. With liquid ease, the animal shot forward into a fast canter.

Ching-Ching's eyes grew wide as saucers. A tight groan issued from his clenched teeth.

"Shit!" Holm shouted and looked toward the keep. "Shit and double shit! She's gonna have my hide for this!"

He ran after Conar as though he could catch horse and rider on foot. The animal stretched into a full run and took the corral fence in one long lunge.

Ching-Ching stood with arms folded over his squat chest, frowning. Horse and rider moved like one being across the meadow beyond which led to Lake Myria. Conar's black clothes blended into the horse's coat, and from a distance, they looked like a centaur of the old yarns. Shaking his head, Ching-Ching turned to go back to the keep.

Not more than two feet away, Liza blocked his path, her face livid with rage. One small foot tapped an angry rhythm on the hard-packed earth. Her green eyes narrowed, glowing with inner fury, while her hands clenched into fists at her side.

"You were suppose to be watching him," she accused, her vision sweeping over the men. She looked at Tarnes, who flinched, then her gaze leapt back to Ching-Ching. "Well?"

Though the Chrystallusian had never been afraid of anyone, this diminutive woman scared the hell out of him. He wanted no berating from her caustic tongue, no green-eyed glare from her lovely face. He ducked his head and wished with all his heart he was tending his garden in Chrystallus.

"Holm?" she asked, a brow arching. "What have you to say?"

"He got away," Holm said, swallowing.

"So he did! And why?" Her gaze swung to Sentian.

"We--uh--we weren't watching him close enough?"

"Precisely!" Turning, she began a not very lady-like stomp toward the keep. "Bring Regan to the keep, Holm," she ordered over her shoulder. "Take him to his old room, Sentian." She turned and stared at her Sentinel. "And see he stays there!"

The men stared at her, agape.

"How did she know about...?" Holm snapped his mouth shut. "Oh, Sweet Merciful Alel! We're gonna hang for sure!"

Standing at his window, Occultus smiled when he viewed Liza fling open the garden door, angrily screeching to the trees, shrubs, fountain, and seagate, frightening into flight a flock of martins lounging in the Temple tree.

"
Son of a bitch!
" she yelled, her head thrown back.

Occultus shook his head when he saw the racing rider and stallion in the meadow beyond.

"It's time to fly again, eh, fledgling?" he whispered against the window glass. His eyes lowered to the woman in the garden, and he chuckled. "Let's hope you don't get your wings clipped before you do!"