WINDDREAMER (18 page)

Legion held out his hand to Brelan. "Take care. See that you come back nonetheless for wear, will you?"

Brelan laughed. "I intend to. There's a certain young woman who would have Conar's hide, otherwise."

"When does the ship sail?" Chase asked.

"As soon as I get there. They should already be on board by now. It won't take long to get there on the sloop if I leave within the hour." Brelan pointed his finger at Teal. "Make sure my nag is taken care of until I get back, du Mer."

"I'd be afraid the bugger would wager it away," Chase quipped, laughing at Teal's snort of disdain.

"I wish you were going with us, Montyne," Brelan said.

"He is," Legion answered, surprising both men.

Chase raised a brow. "It's the first I've heard of it. I thought Conar wanted me here in case there was trouble."

Legion shook his head. "Wait here for me. I'll see Brelan to the sea gate, then you can join him on board the
Mystic Wind.
"

"Does Conar know?" Brelan asked, a worry crease in his forehead.

"He told me to do what I thought best in his absence," Legion answered, "and I am. Now, go on ahead, Bre, and Chase will join you shortly."

Brelan sighed. "I'm not sure Conar's going to like this." He eyed Legion. "I'm not sure
I
like it."

"It doesn't matter whether either of you do. This is one decision I feel compelled to make." Legion opened the library door and started along the flagstone path, his steps heavy as he walked toward the sea gate.

Brelan had to walk fast to keep up with his brother. "There was a reason Conar wanted Chase to remain here. Our brother does nothing without a good reason. You know that."

Legion didn't answer until his hand gripped the wrought iron ring that opened the tall gate. He looked down the curving stone steps, bordered on either side with thick clumps of prickly briars. He could just see the harbor from where he stood, the dredging operation that had prevented
The Ravenwind
from docking at Boreas in full swing.

"I feel this great weight on my chest, Brelan," he said, turning to face his brother. "I want to go with you. I feel a need to be there."

"We all do, but there are more precious things to protect here than on
The Ravenwind.
Elizabeth's counting on you to keep watch over the children. She'd skewered us all if one scratch touched her babies."

Legion's lips trembled. "See that no harm comes to our lady, Bre," he whispered, his heart in his voice.

"You know I'd give my life for her."

Something dark and painful stirred in Legion's soul. He wanted to shout to the guards to keep Brelan there, to send every available soldier at Boreas to bring back Conar and Liza. It was all he could do to pull his brother into his arms. He brought him to his chest in a hard, protective pull. "Be careful, Brelan. Be very careful."

Brelan hugged Legion, slapped him heartily on the back, then slipped out of his arms and shook his head. "You sounded just like Papa." He smiled. "The older you get, the more like him you become, big brother."

Legion lifted his eyes to the heavens. "The gods forbid!" He gripped his brother's wrist, and before Brelan could see the tears gathering in his eyes, he hurried up the flagstone path.

"Conar told me why he didn't want you at the Monastery, Chase" Legion began when he returned to the library. "He feels you would not deal well with being there again." When Chase started to speak, Legion held up his hand. "And I know I should not ask, but I have no one else I can turn to that I trust."

"What is it you want me to do?" Chase asked.

Legion could barely answer. He had never felt so much agony, so much worry. It was as though his very heart was being torn out. "If, by some wild fancy of the gods, Conar or Liza, or both, should fall prey to Kaileel Tohre, I want your solemn and sacred vow you will find a way to free them."

Chase drew in a long breath. "And if it means their very lives?"

Legion held his friend's gaze for a long time. Everyone knew Chase Montyne had powers he seldom used. As a young man, he had trained with one of the best--Tolkan Coure. He had, like Conar after him, been installed at the Abbey of the Wind, and had become one of the greatest sorcerers Ionary had ever known.

During the time of the Great Upheaval, when Domination-led troops invaded all the Seven Kingdoms, Chase had gone to Tolkan for help, but the old man refused him, reminding Montyne that he had never joined the Domination. Upon the death of his family at Tribunal hands, Chase had renounced his magic, vowing that using it would have been a slur to his lost family's honor.

"Answer me, Legion," Chase said. "What if it means their lives?"

"If Tohre captures them, he will kill Liza. Only you know what he might do to Conar. I will not see my lady slain nor my brother destroyed. Protect Liza as best you can. If it comes down to it, if there is no other way to save Conar, take his life. I could not ask it of the others, for I doubt any of them can do what you can."

"Shalu could," Chase replied. "So could Jah-Ma-El. Both are capable of taking a life."

"But would they take Conar's?"

Chase didn't say anything for a long time. "No, they would not."

"Then it rests with you, old friend. Would you have him once more in Tohre's hands?"

"Never again."

"Then you will do it?"

Chase nodded. "I will see to it, Legion."

After slipping the black crystal dagger from the sheath at his thigh, Legion flipped over the blade and extended the grip to his friend. "It's the one Regan used on him. Occultus tells me this is the only weapon that can"--he swallowed hard--"kill my brother."

Montyne stared at the deadly looking dagger, as if loathe to touch the thing.

Legion saw the uncertainty and dread in his friend's face. "There's no other way. I'm told he can be hurt, but not killed, by other weapons. This is the only device that will see the deed done..."

"Aye, it is." Chase took the dagger, then quickly slid it into the waistband of his breeches. "You have discussed this with Occultus?"

"He sees no threat to Conar, but we would be sure. He said, if the need arose, you would be the only man in the Force who loved Conar enough to kill him." Legion put his hand on Montyne's shoulder. "He said you were the only one who understood just how terrible Conar's life would become if Tohre should win."

Shivering, Chase covered Legion's hand with his own. "I swear on my family's honor, should it come down to it, I will make sure Conar never falls into Tohre's clutches ever again!"

Legion drew Montyne into a fierce embrace. "Do it quickly, Chase." His voice broke. "Please, Alel, don't let him suffer..."

Conar held his beloved's hand as they walked the length of the quay at Marengo harbor. Gathered along the shore, at the top of the hill overlooking the harbor, standing in every available spot, their people kept silent vigil as the Wind Force boarded
The Ravenwind,
the sleek black schooner straining at anchor. The people made no sound, as if a single voice might break the magic circle of protection their love had encircled around the ship. Lips mumbled silent prayers to Alel for the safety of the journey.

Brelan passed his brother and Liza, smiling at them, and went up the gangplank. He glanced back at them as he stepped onto the teak deck, looked at the people gathered, and apparently marveled at their displayed devotion.

When Chase Montyne passed the couple, however, something broke Conar's composure. He stared after the Ionarian Prince, a heavy frown of concern on his face.

"Don't scowl," Liza said. "You knew he wouldn't stay behind."

Conar sighed. "I thought for once he'd do as I asked." He helped Liza up the gangplank and onto the deck, then searched Chase's eyes. "You knew I didn't want you to come."

"So, sue me," Montyne quipped.

Holm's voice blared, and the great anchor began to rise, its chain squealing in protest. In cadence with the noise came a low chant, staggered here and there among the crowd, gathering in volume and voice, soft and barely audible at first, then growing in depth and tone until the words could be distinctly heard.

Everywhere Conar looked, people went to their knees, their right hands over their hearts.

He had heard this cry before. Many times. The last time being in Chrystallus, five years before. It always brought a lump to his throat. It had become the battle cry for freedom in his land.

"You have your people's love, little brother," Brelan said, slipping his arm around Conar's shoulder.

"I know it well," Conar answered. "As they have mine."

The great sails filled with the freshening breeze and it tacked toward the north, the chant ringing across the sea.

"The Wind be at your back, Lord Raven!" someone shouted above the chants. The young man struck his arm straight out in front of him, fist clenched, thumb and little forefinger crooked in the sign of the Raven.

Conar returned the salute. "And the Wind be at your back!" he called.

Chase Montyne turned away from the love and adoration he saw on the faces of the people of Serenia. He needed to be alone, to think over the horrible promise he had made to Legion A'Lex.

"Sweet Merciful Alel," he prayed to the heavens. "Please don't let me have to kill him."

Waves crashed into the craggy slope of the mountain and sent spumes of iced white foam high up the rockface. A dull gray sky hung heavily above and blended into the gunmetal color of the onrushing waves. A sharp chill hovered in the early morning air where no gull or tern flew in the harsh North Boreal sea wind.

Below, in the cresting, heaving sea, the black ship rode at uneasy anchor, pitching and tossing, heeling over to the starboard side with every advancing wave. Even the high winds and high seas could not capsize
The Ravenwind,
but its shrouds dipped ever closer to the murky gray water.

"Damn this wind," Holm van de Lar growled as he squinted into the teeth of the chill blow. "Why the hell couldn't he just have gone up that mountain pass and invaded the place like any ordinary warrior."

"Because there'd be no way to get in without being slaughtered," Paegan answered. "Conar said there's no room to maneuver on that mountainside."

"What if Tohre has men waiting atop that mountain?" Mister Tarnes asked. "The bastards could just push our boys over the side and be done with it."

"Conar knows what he's doing," Paegan admonished. He staggered against the push of the howling storm. "The wind's supposed to help us, not hinder us."

Dropping a jolly boat over the side of the ship, Holm and Paegan had twice rowed across the span between
The Ravenwind
and the jutting rocks at the base of the mountain. Twelve members of the Wind Force were offloaded, each soaked wet long before stepping foot on the barren reef from whence their journey would begin.

Now, Holm lifted his spyglass to the rugged cliffs and tried to keep sight of the climbers. The ship pitched and rolled beneath him like a bucking horse. "Give me that damned rope, brat!" he ordered Paegan. After lashing himself to the railing to avoid being thrown overboard, he brought the spyglass up once more.

"Can you see them?" Paegan shouted. The wind flung him heavily against the captain. He skidded across the deck and grabbed the rail.

Holm's fingers clutched his hand. "Why ain't you below like I told you to be?" Holm bellowed. Sea foam and droplets of rain speckled his face. His oilcloth poncho shone like polished steel in the fading light.

"I wanted to see how they were!"

"Here!" Holm ordered, handing the spyglass to his second in command. "Look your fill!" He held Paegan's arm to brace him.

Though Paegan's fingers were numb from the cold, he took the glass. He scanned the cliffs and focused in on a climber, struggling to advance up the rock face, the high winds buffeting him against the stone surface. Paegan moved the glass a few inches and saw two others, staggered along the rock face, clinging desperately to the handholds and footholds carved by the wind and sea. The climb would have been hard even in good weather, but with the storm's punishing waves, the trek proved more difficult than anyone had expected.

"He's at the top!" Holm shouted, pointing up the cliff. "If he hadn't gotten up there first and thrown lines down to the others, there wouldn't be a damned soul on that mountain!"

Paegan lifted the glass and sighted the solitary figure, who seemed to be waiting for the others to catch up. A guideline hung down from him to the next climber. "He's a good climber," Paegan yelled. "We'd all still be sitting in Ivor Keep's dungeon if he weren't."

"If he hadn't gotten up there so fast,
they'd
have all drowned!" Holm pointed to the reef where they had landed, now entirely under water. "He got that line going and they're doing fair up the cliff."

The gale-force wind pushing against the ship seemed nothing compared to the slap of the oncoming water that plastered the men to the rock face. The watery fingers that clawed and dragged at their clothing threatened to pluck them from the mountain and fling them crashing into the surf far below. It numbed their bleeding fingers and brought shivers of teeth-chattering cold to their lips.

High above the others, Conar watched as first Brelan, then Roget climbed closer to his position at the edge of the promontory. He had lashed himself securely to a large rock behind him, but the hemp bit painfully into his midsection, causing him to grunt from the pain. Having scaled to the top with little difficulty, he gave silent thanks to Ching-Ching, the man who had made him climb time after time, day after day, cliff after cliff. In those days he hadn't known why it was so vitally important that he become an expert climber. Then, he had questioned the training; now, he was glad he had passed the monkey-man's tests of endurance.

"Little bird doing exceedingly well," an amused voice whispered in his ear.

"Little bird knew he'd better." Conar chuckled.

He looked past Grice, who seemed to be having more difficulty than the others, then glanced at the low-flying clouds. He blinked against the painful stab of the rain in his eyes before returning his attention to Grice.

"Watch yourself, Wynth," he mumbled, his heart lurching every time Grice's foot slipped. He looked past Grice for Storm and Chase. He couldn't see them for the rock ledges, but he caught sight of Tyne, spider-walking his way along one deep crevice.

Conar located Liza, being lifted on a swinging chair secured to four strong ropes. He smiled, sensing his lover's nervous anger, yet his stomach rolled every time the chair moved. Making sure he had a firm grip on the pulley line, he tugged the chair upward inch by inch. With his right foot wedged into a crack in the rock, he used all his strength to heave the dead weight of his lady's body up the mountain.

"Thank you, Grice," he mumbled, recalling all the weights he had lifted through the years.

Still, Liza had another twenty feet to go before she reached the relative safety of Conar's position on the mountain. Her hair, blown free of the braid she had wrapped around her head, billowed in the sharp wind, obscuring her pale cheeks and lips. Conar felt her fear. Every now and again he would mentally send a word of encouragement to her before turning his attention to the other climbers.

"Nice day for a climb, eh, Saur?" he quipped when Brelan gained the top.

"Get stuffed!" Brelan grumbled, shaking from the cold wetness and his intense fear of heights. He swung his right leg onto the promontory and rolled away from the edge. Gasping for breath, he stared at the leaden sky, teeth chattering.

Grice followed, rolling into Brelan as he came over the top. The two men looked at one another and grinned.

Wynth climbed to his feet first, reaching down a hand to his old friend. "Up and at 'em, Saur! We don't have all day!"

"Your baby brother is a determined man!" Conar shouted, now seeing Chand struggling to get his foot in a crevice, a look of defiance on his face.

Grice looked down the cliff and nodded. "Hurry it up, Chandling!"

"Go to hell, Griceland!" came the faint shout.

"Been there!"

Conar chuckled. Everything and everyone would be all right. Somehow he knew that to be true.

"Let's get that little lady up here!" Brelan shouted, moving to help Conar work the pulley. He got a grip on the hemp, than stepped back so Grice, the stronger of the two, could also grasp the rope.

In one movement, the chair surged upward another five feet, then again, bringing Liza only about ten feet from the top.

Soon, Storm, Chase, and Tyne gained the apex. They helped the other men lift Liza all the way onto the promontory. Untying his lady from the chair, Conar assured himself she was none the worse for the trip. He quickly kissed Liza, then told Brelan to take her into a cave he had found earlier. Knowing his brother would see to her comfort, he temporarily put his lady from his mind and once more turned his attention to the last climbers.

Chand barreled his way over the top, cursing and spitting like a cat. "Sorry, no-good, worthless piece of shit!" he snarled, pounding his bleeding fist against the stone. "I hate climbing!"

Following closely on Chand's heels, a white-faced Ja-Ma-El labored up the rock face, viciously prodded from behind by Shalu, whose anger was stamped across his fierce countenance. With his eyes nearly popping with stark terror from his head, the warlock stopped moving and clung to the hemp, plastering himself as tightly as lichen to the rock, his face pressed hard into the surface.

"Shit!" Shalu swore from his position a few feet below.

Looking out at the rolling sea, Conar sensed the storm growing worse. In a matter of minutes, the wind would increase, too, making it even more difficult to scale the slippery rocks. Jah-Ma-El, blocking the easiest area of the cliff to climb, subsequently delayed Shalu's ascent. The Necroman threw back his head and howled.

Conar cursed and reached for the second rope he had carried to the top. Draped around both shoulders, the pulley system, three ropes, and a safety harness had proven more than a hindrance when he climbed. His shoulders throbbed with pain; his hands felt raw beneath his gloves; but again he silently thanked Ching-Ching for the training that had allowed him to get nine people to safety. Now, anchoring the second rope around a boulder, Conar tossed the coiled hemp to Shalu.

Nodding with satisfaction when Shalu caught the falling rope, Conar waited to see if the others at the top had taken note of his intent. Satisfied they had, he shouted in Roget's ear. "I'm going after Jah-Ma-El!"

Conar swung his legs over the ledge and scaled down the taut rope, more than conscious that his descent swung Jah-Ma-El away from the rock each time he pushed himself off the mountainside. In his mind he heard Jah-Ma-El's whimpers of fear and prayed the older man would hold tight.

"Hang on, big brother," he whispered through the Veil. "I'm coming."

Jah-Ma-El's head jerked upward, the terror in his eyes a pitiful sight. Yet Conar managed to smile at the man.

"Fancy meeting you here!" he called. He slid the remaining distance to Jah-Ma-El. "Hang out here often, do you?"

"I'm going to fall!" Jah-Ma-El shouted, his knuckles white.

Conar braced himself next to his brother. "I won't let you." He hooked the safety line onto Jah-Ma-El's harness. "We're going to finish the climb, Jamie."

Jah-Ma-El furiously shook his head, fright making his entire body tremble. "I can't do it, Coni! I can't!"

"You can!" Conar put an arm around his brother's waist. "You're a strong man, Jah-Ma-El McGregor." He felt the man flinch. "Aye, I said McGregor! You're as good as any of Papa's sons and you damned well know it. Let go of the rope and put one hand around me. We'll move to the top together."

"I can't, Conar. Before Alel, I can't!"

"Aye, you can!" Conar said in a stern voice. He willed his brother to do exactly as he had said, but only Jah-Ma-El's lips, blue from the cold and quivering with his intense terror, moved.

Shalu crab-walked up the cliff on the second rope. As he moved into position on the other side of Jah-Ma-El, he winked at Conar. He mouthed words Conar couldn't hear, but his meaning seemed clear--It's gonna take more than talk, fledgling, to get this turkey off the roost.

Jah-Ma-El started to look down.

"Don't do that!" Conar bellowed. "Let go of the gods-be-damned rope!"

The wizard looked hopelessly at Conar. "I can't..."

Conar knew every precious moment they wasted brought the storm closer to them. He decided the only way they could get Jah-Ma-El to the top was if the man was unconscious.

Sighing, he snaked up the dangling rope beneath him until he had the end of it. Reaching around Jah-Ma-El, he wound the hemp around his brother's lean waist, then tied it in a secure knot under the man's underarms. Looking at Shalu, he shrugged, then deftly struck Jah-Ma-El's neck with the side of his hand. With one quick chop, the man slumped forward.

Before long, the men finished the climb. Roget and Grice hauled up the unconscious warlock and safely brought him over the edge.

"Everyone else is in the cave!" Grice shouted. "They've got a fire going."

Conar lifted Jah-Ma-El into his arms, while the others pulled the ropes over the top and coiled them into loose circles.

"Had a helluva time getting the fire started," Brelan snapped as the men entered the cave. "The tinder was soaked."

"What happened to Jah-Ma-El?" Liza asked anxiously, getting to her feet and throwing off a blanket.

"He fainted," Conar explained and laid the unconscious man before the fire. "The climb was too strenuous for him."

Each man had a oilcloth pack strapped to his back. The pack contained a few necessities--a blanket, extra shirt, and breeches--and other items they knew they'd need after the climb, such as several squares of peat moss from which the fire had obviously been laid. Their weapons, swords, bows, arrows, and the like had been hauled up behind Conar before the others had begun climbing. Among the "weapons" was a fat bottle of brandy.

"You better force a bit of this down Jah-Ma-El's gullet," Grice said, retrieving the bottle.

Conar bent over Jah-Ma-El, stripping the cold clothing from his body. The man began to come around. Conar took the brandy and brought the bottle to Jah-Ma-El's blue lips. "Here, Jamie. Drink." He held the bottle as Jah-Ma-El slurped, sputtering.

Shalu threaded the warlock's cold, blue-tinted arms through the dry clothing from Jah-Ma-El's pack.

"Never let it be said that we
ever
do anything the easy way!" Eyes turned to the cave's entrance. "Surprise!" Thom said and grinned, looking at the astonished faces.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Conar asked, his brows raised. "I thought you were going to stay on the ship?"

"How the hell did he get up here?" Roget snapped. "Grice and I brought in the ropes!"

Thom's grin widened. "You aren't the only ones who can climb, my dear fellow. Besides, Holm thought it best if I joined you. We got a message that will certainly make your day."

A frown of disquiet settled on Conar's face. "From whom?"

"Tohre."

"He sent a message to the ship?" Shalu hissed.

"By mirror signal. We thought it best you knew--they're aware you've arrived."

"Damn it!" Roget spat. "We made that stupid climb for nothing!"