WINDDREAMER (4 page)

Legion sat watching Conar. Little had really changed in his brother's appearance over the years. His hair might have silver strands running through the thick gold, but it was still lustrous and healthy-looking. He was more muscular, with a wiry strength that set well on his six-foot frame. The eyes, however, had changed. No longer the color of a warm summer's day, the dark blue orbs spoke more about the changes in the man than did his words or actions.

They were hard eyes, cold at times, much like the man--stubborn. There was rigidity about Conar, an arrogance that was no longer the insolent self-importance of a young prince destined to rule his people. The arrogance now had been honed from adversity.

"Conar expects to be obeyed," Brelan had remarked that morning when Tyne balked at doing a particular chore. "There isn't ever a doubt in his mind that those around him will do exactly as he wills."

"Aye," Jah-Ma-El agreed. "Sometimes wrong, but never in doubt."

Now, Legion let out a ragged breath and turned away from his secret scrutiny of his brother, trying to clear his mind. He admitted that Conar was still handsome, despite the livid scars on his left cheek. If anything, those scars seemed to add to the man's mystery, to bespeak his suffering and, in doing so, give the observer the notion that this man had earned the right to be respected. The very dangerousness about him, the sensual, I-don't-give-a-damn-whether-you-like-me-or-not attitude served only to make Conar more noticeable. Of course, few people didn't notice him first when they entered a room. If he wasn't noticed, it was because the looker just didn't want to see him. Conar stood out in a crowd whether he chose to or not.

"How do I compete with that?" Legion once asked Roget. "I don't have his power or presence. Why would Liza choose me over a man such as he?"

"Because she loves you," Roget had answered.

"It's getting worse out there," Jah-Ma-El remarked, startling Legion out of his revelry.

Legion looked at his brother. "How's the sky look?"

Jah-Ma-El shook his head. "Black as night and the wind's kicking up. Tornado weather."

"I'd better go up to Liza." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Conar watching him and turned to look. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Bad weather coming."

Conar nodded.

"I'll get the windows shuttered," Jah-Ma-El said.

Just as the last window was locked, its shutters in place, the full force of the storm hit them like an avalanche of stones. The sky had turned an ugly purple, darkened to black, and was now an eerie green-tinged ebon. Howling gusts of wind shrieked around the keep and turned the air inside frigid. The rap of hailstones hitting the windows and roof grew loud and battering. As lightning spat toward the earth with its fiery tongues of death, the rooms flared with filtered white light through the slats of the shutters. Heavy booms of thunder shook the windows and rattled the chandeliers.

Conar stood with his forearm along the mantle and gazed into the leaping flames that sputtered with the fall of rain down the flue. His thoughts dwelled on the woman upstairs. He knew what this kind of violent tempest could do to her nerves. He could feel her fear radiating down to him in waves of pure terror. His body trembled with each quake of her own and he ached to go to her, to take her in his arms and comfort her, to hide her from the storm she so feared. He had to grind his teeth to keep from screaming out his frustration that he could do none of those things.

Brelan glanced up from his chair. "Are you all right?"

Conar nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He prodded a log with the toe of his boot.

"She's not alone," Brelan gently reminded him. "She'll be all right."

Conar turned away, his hands doubled into fists. A sharp rip of lightning sang through the air outside. Conar jumped, his attention going to the shuttered window. In a moment, hard thunder rolled overhead and he could take the strain no longer. He pushed away from the mantle.

"Don't," Brelan warned.

"She's nearly out of her mind with terror, Brelan."

"I'll go."

"You went once before, didn't you?" came the sarcastic reply.

"She needed me that night," Brelan said in his defense, although guilt stained his lean cheeks.

Conar nodded, ashamed he'd brought up the past. "I'm sorry, I didn't--"

Brelan got up. "I'll go check on her."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Do you trust yourself?"

Conar looked away. His shoulders slumped as he walked to Brelan's abandoned chair and sat. He laid his head along the velvet and stared at the ceiling. "Check on Corbin, too, will you?"

In their bedroom, Legion held his trembling wife, pressing her head close to his chest so she could not see lightning through the shutters. His arms locked her against his massive chest, his hand buried in her hair as he crooned meaningless words to shut out the terrible noise spewing from the heavens. He heard her frantic breathing and felt the heavy thud of her hammering heart against his ribcage as she plastered her body to his with every clap of thunder. Her flesh felt clammy.

When the discreet knock came at the door, Legion warily looked up. His clipped "Enter" left no doubt he expected the intruder to be Conar. His face relaxed only a small bit when he saw Brelan instead.

"I just wanted her to know I checked on Corbi. He's sleeping like a baby." Brelan smiled. "Wish I could."

Legion relaxed. He bent his head down to his wife. "Did you hear that? Didn't I tell you Corbi could sleep through an earthquake?"

Liza nodded against his chest, flinching as another sinister burst of lightning cracked outside. She whimpered and gripped him tighter.

"Thanks," Legion told Brelan.

Brelan nodded and quietly closed the door behind him.

Conar jumped when Brelan touched his arm. Deep in thought, he had not heard his brother return. "How is she?"

Brelan squeezed Conar's arm. "Legion's doing everything that can be done for her right now."

Lowering his head, Conar used the heels of his palms to rub at his tired eyes.

"Can't you sleep?"

Conar sighed. "Not as long as she's like this. I feel every tremor in her body, Bre."

"I almost suggested Legion sing to her." Brelan smiled when Conar scowled at him. "Like I said, I
almost
suggested he sing to her!"

"It's a good thing you didn't." Conar grinned and laid his head on the chair. "We want the lady calm, not driven mad. Thanks."

"For what?"

"For giving me something to smile about." The smile on his face tightened as another sharp bolt of lightning hit somewhere close, but the thought of Legion singing to Liza to soothe her softened it again.

The storm still raged at morning time. The wind had not ceased its incessant howling, nor had the lightning forking down from the heavens lessened in intensity. The entire keep awoke edgy and gruff, everyone continuously watching the darkened skies.

"This ain't a natural storm," Holm van De Lar remarked at the breaking of the fast that morning. "I've ridden out storms many a time in my travels, but this ain't natural."

"Hell-spawned," Jah-Ma-El murmured. "The weather is hell-born."

Conar glanced at his brother and shook his head. "If it were, I'd know it." He speared a thick slice of ham with his fork and laid it on his plate, then reached for the red-eye gravy. "I agree with the good Captain--it isn't natural, but then it isn't evil either."

"How do you explain it, then?" Brelan asked, flinching as thunder shook the keep.

Conar shrugged. "The gods were more than likely bored. I would imagine paradise gets tiresome after a while. So they sent us something to keep us on our toes."

Shalu gave his friend an annoyed look. "You think this weather is a test of our mettle, McGregor?"

"It's a test of something," Tyne snorted. "I sneezed so much yesterday cleaning that gods-be-damned conservatory, I couldn't sleep all night my nose was so stopped up." He cast a hateful look at Legion. "Bright idea, indeed, to clean this lump of stones."

Legion smiled around a mouthful of creamed peas. "You needed the entertainment, Brell."

Tyne snorted. "Entertainment my ass!"

Shalu chuckled. The Necroman wagged his brows at the Chalean Prince. "You white boys have it rough, don't you?"

Conar glanced at Brelan. The atmosphere at the table, despite the howling storm outside, was considerably better than the day before. He smiled, sliced a large portion of freshly baked bread from the platter, and buttered it. Chewing thoughtfully on the mouth-watering morsel, he looked down the table at Legion. "Is Liza better this morning?"

His brother looked up with a slight, annoyed look, but he nodded. "Corbin is with her. She didn't sleep much last night."

"I know." Conar could have kicked himself as soon as the words left his mouth. He saw Legion's mouth tighten, and he felt every man at the table staring at him. He swung his gaze to Brelan, saw the raised-brow stare, and looked down at his plate.

Silence settled at the table. The clink of silverware, the rattle of crystal, the scraping of food across china, filled the quiet. The moment had turned awkward and Conar felt it keenly.

A sharp crack sounded outside.

Every man jumped, turning toward the window. With a piercing shriek and rumble of falling timber, a large tree branch crashed through the pane, billowing the drapes. Shards of glass exploded into the room, scattering across the floor.

Rain poured in through the opening and the wind swept over the dining table. A mighty roar filled the room and the very timbers of the keep began to tremble. Upstairs, a wail of pure terror rose on a trill of prolonged sound.

"
Liza!
" Conar shouted, shoving aside his chair.

He came around the table at a near-run only to be brought up by Legion's snarl of rage.

A'Lex grabbed his arm, bringing him to a stop. "She's
my
wife. I'll go up to her!" He swung Conar away and headed for the stairs.

Outside, the air hummed with the mighty rumbling, all light fading from the windows. The wind blew with enough force to stagger the men.

"
Tornado!
" came the cry, and several rushed for the stairs to the dungeons.

Conar started to follow Legion up the stairs, but Brelan and Shalu both seized him.

"Let go!"

"No," Brelan snapped. "I said no!" he repeated to be heard over the noise. He jerked his brother toward the dungeon stairs.

"I'm going to my lady!" Conar howled, bucking against their hold.

"You got no business going up there," Shalu said in a fierce, booming voice. His hold tightened as Conar tried to jerk away his arm. "Be still, McGregor!"

The two men yanked Conar toward the stairs, ignoring his vile cursing.

"Damn it," Conar shouted, his face contorting with fear for the woman he loved. "Let me go to her!"

A sudden clatter down the other stairway made the men pause and turn. Brelan heaved a sigh of relief as Corbin ran past him, his hand pulling one of the young servant girls.

Behind them, Legion carried Liza in his arms, shouting for them to hurry. "The roof sounds like it's going!" he yelled, toting Liza down the narrow passageway and skipping heavily down the stairs.

Overhead, a wrenching, cracking vibration began. Ceiling plaster rained down.

"Get below!" Brelan yelled, shoving Conar in the small of his back, pushing Shalu along with him down the stairs. He stopped as the others fled to safety and shot the bolt on the door, turned, and skipped as fast as he could down the steps.

"Regan!" Corbin screamed.

"He's here!" Marsh Edan yelled.

Huddled in the depths of the cold and damp dungeon, they heard the crashing, shattering fall of the ancient structure above. The piercing scream of tortured timber and crumbling stone made speech impossible. Hands pressed tightly over ears, bodies huddled against other bodies, heads lowered as the keep's inhabitants sheltered themselves from the terror above. The violent moaning of the wind sent shivers down Conar's spine, and the rumble of the passing funnel shook the ground at his feet.

"Sweet Merciful Alel," Sentian prayed, his hands folded in prayer. "Don't let us die here like this."

Conar stared intently at Liza several feet away, his nerve-endings rubbed raw by her fear. He saw her clinging to Legion, trembling against him, and actually heard her whimpers of terror. His hands itched to take her to him; his heart ached to comfort her. He found Legion glaring at him, and returned the look.

Brelan glanced up as a tremendous crash sounded overhead, but the two men staring at one another drew his rapt attention. Conar's face was filled with worry, clouded with longing; Legion's face was set in hard lines of anger, as if he dared Conar to try and take what he would not be allowed to have.

Saur's gaze went down to Liza. He saw her lips moving, and knew she was praying. A part of him wanted to comfort her, too, just as he had many years earlier when, on a night such as this, he had sown his own seed in the belly of the woman they all loved more than life itself.

He laughed bitterly to himself. The four of them--Conar, Galen, Legion, himself--had each suffered untold agonies to have Elizabeth Wynth as their own. Conar had been tortured for his wanting; Galen had died for his. Watching Legion and Conar facing one another was painful to see, for Brelan knew the final wedge was being driven between his two brothers and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

As quickly as the disaster had been visited upon Ivor, it passed just as fast. The wind ceased; the rain stopped; the rumbling fled. Above the dungeon, the settling of broken timbers, destroyed walls and furnishings, ground to a halt. All went still, the dust floating down from the ceiling the last reminder of the storm's passing.

"Is everyone all right?" Brelan asked, coming to his feet to dust off his breeches. Around him, others began to stand, to look around with dazed, confused eyes. Here and there Brelan heard a muffled sob as one of the women gained her feet, supported by one of the men.

"Anyone hurt?" Chase asked, helping up Jah-Ma-El.

"I don't think so," Brelan answered, seeing a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing that looked like it needed immediate care. "We were gods-be-damned lucky."

Conar stared at the tableau before him. Legion unclenched his hand from Liza's hair, stroked the gleaming ebon tresses, and whispered to her. Gently he eased her from him, tilted up her head, and planted a soft kiss on her brow.

Every nerve in Conar's body screamed at him to jerk her from Legion's arms and hold her. He ached to assure himself that she was still intact. He had to clench his jaw to keep from shouting, had to dig his nails into his palms to keep them to himself.

"Conar."

He found Brelan close beside him. He stared at his brother, his hopelessness, his helplessness, his pain likely easy to see.

"I know." Brelan put his hand on Conar's shoulder.

Conar drew in a hitching breath and turned away, shaking his head to clear it of treacherous thoughts. "Let's see how it looks upstairs," he snapped, pushing past Grice and Chand Wynth, hugging each other in obvious relief that they had survived the tempest.

Something heavy had lodged against the door. Even with Bent straining with all his brute force, the wood wouldn't budge.

"You had to shut it, didn't you?" Conar snarled as Brelan added his shoulder to the planking.

"I didn't think," Brelan answered, heaving. He looked at the others. "Anyone have an idea how we're going to get out of here?"

"There's a light," Paegan remarked, pointing to the ceiling.

Everyone looked up and frowned. The light was a good seventy or eighty feet straight up the dungeon's air shaft, a tight, circular chamber of staggered brick.

"And how are we supposed to get up there?" Holm snapped.

Tyne sighed. "Since none of us can fly, we'll have to climb."

"No one can climb up there!" Legion growled. He drew Liza to her feet and brought her to where the others stood.

Conar craned his neck to see up the shaft. He gauged the distance, tested the hold of the brick, pulling on the stones. "I can."

"The hell you can!" Legion yelled. "You never could climb the trees by the training ground when you were a boy, so why do you think you can climb this? You'd fall and break your damned fool neck!"

"I can do it." Conar began to take off his boots.

"I don't know," Rylan said. "That's a pretty steep climb." He looked up the shaft. "It looks slick as shit."

"Stop trying to play hero!" Legion snorted. "We'll find another way out."

Conar ignored his brother. He took off his heavy woolen socks, began to roll up the cuffs of his breeches over his ankles.

"Damn it, listen to your brother!" Marsh grumbled. "No man can make that climb."

Conar looked back at Marsh with a steady stare. "Get out of my way."

Legion let go of Liza. He grabbed Conar's shoulder, spinning him around. "You're not doing this and that's all there is to it!"

Conar slapped away the hand and came nose to nose with Legion, sneering. "I can make the gods-be-damned climb, A'Lex! I was trained to make it. I don't give a damn whether you have any confidence in my doing so or not. Get the hell away from me and let me do my job!" He reached up for the archway of bricks and swung himself into the airway shaft before anyone could stop him.

Legion poked his head into the shaft. "Conar!"

Already a good six feet above his brother, Conar clung to the brick and attempted to wedge his bare toes into a section of crumbled mortar.

"
Get your ass back down here!
"

Conar continued upward. The sharp edges of the bricks cut into his toes. Blood from the cuts added additional slipperiness to the already slick stones. His nails dug into the loose mortar, his fingertips being gouged unmercifully by the crumbling sand and breakaway brick. Pulling himself up became more difficult than he had imagined. It hadn't been that long ago since he'd been bedridden, weak, unable to stand without assistance. He had been training before the rains, but the last week or so had seen precious little activity to keep him in shape. Panting, gritting his teeth to the pain in his fingertips and toes, he struggled to make it from one brick to another.

He stopped climbing to catch his breath. Leaning his head on the slimy brick, he winced at the moisture on his flesh. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mist forming. He swiveled his head to look at the illusion that began to waver in the darkness.

Ching-Ching's little monkey face came out of the black, grinning, mocking. "Little bird believes he can climb, does he?"

"Damned straight!" Conar bit out from between his teeth.

"One day, one cliff. Two day, two cliff. We see how little bird do. If teacher satisfied..."

"Leave," Conar mumbled, blinking to wash away the sweat dripping down his face. He drew in three heavy breaths before he started up again. By his reckoning, he was thirty feet from the top of the airshaft. He could already feel a cool wind flowing down the walls.

"Little bird not up to climb?" The sing-song voice grew malicious.

"I can do it!" Conar growled. He gripped the stone ledge before him and tried for purchase with his throbbing toe. His foot slipped, dragging his nail down the brick. He yelped, then heard his name cried from below, the sound reverberating off the stone. "Knock it off!" he whispered, again hearing the echo of his name spiraling up to him.

"Little bird not concentrate on task before him. Not wise of little bird to let mind wander."

Clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth until he could actually hear the sound inside his skull, Conar dug his fingernails into the mortar and gouged a handhold until he could get his bleeding foot up to another section of stable brick.

"How far up is he?" Legion asked, his arm around Liza's shoulder.

"Twenty-five, thirty feet, I think. It's starting to rain again." Roget drew in his head, his face wet with raindrops.

"That will make it harder to climb," Liza whispered. She felt Legion's arm tighten around her. "It'll make the mortar even more slimy, the bricks slippery."

"It's so close in there," Corbin said, looking at the diameter of the shaft. "How can he stand it?"

Up until that moment, no one including Liza had even thought of the danger of the confined space for Conar. Their main concern had been the treachery of the climb. With Corbin's innocuous question, Liza drew in a fearful breath, as did the others around her.

Legion pushed her into Brelan's arms and moved Roget out of the way. He craned his neck up the airshaft. "Be careful!"

There was no thought in Conar's own mind about the constriction of the tunnel. The tight space held no fear for him. The height bothered him a little, but his need to make the climb, to get out of the dungeon, to get out the others, remained his primary concern. That he bled from his fingers and toes, and from a vicious scrape on his left knee which had torn a hole in his breeches, didn't even register in his mind. He concentrated only on putting up one hand, followed by a foot, inching his way out of the shaft.