WindSeeker (26 page)

tell you, you have to take me with you."

Sentian spat on the man. "You think we care what happens to you? They can gut you!"

"Take us there, then," Belvoir decided. "Take us there and I’ll see you go where Tohre can’t reach you."

A flare of hope momentarily lit Galen’s eyes until he realized there was nowhere safe from Tohre. "He’ll

find me."

"Not where I can send you," Belvoir said.

"Where?" It was a hopeful, mere breath of sound.

"World’s End."

Hern rolled his eyes to the heaven. "Not the brightest thing you’ve ever promised, Belvoir."

"You can do that?" Galen whispered.

"My lady can," Belvoir stated.

Sentian had never heard of the place, but obviously the others had. "Where’d you say this place was?"

"She knows the way?" Galen asked.

"Only she does," Belvoir answered.

"What kind of place is it?" Sentian asked.

"You don’t need to know," Hern snapped and turned his attention to Galen. "Then, what’ll it be? Do you

lead us or do we leave you here and look for someone else?"

Galen managed to push himself up the wall. He straightened his clothes. "Can you guarantee she will help

me? Can she protect me from Tohre and the Domination?" He licked his lips. "Can she keep me from

being killed?"

Belvoir nodded. "She’ll see you get what’s due you."

"If you’re telling me the truth, then I’ll take you to him, but it won’t be easy to get past the guards there."

He sidestepped the men, keeping well out of the younger man’s reach, for he didn’t like the fierce scowl

on the otherwise handsome face.

"Do you know the way?" Hern wanted clarification.

Galen nodded. "Kaileel has taken me there many times. He never thought to blindfold me." He shrugged

one thin shoulder. "He’s never considered me a threat."

"You aren’t," Sentian informed him. His hands itched to circle the conniving bastard’s throat and squeeze

until there wasn’t any life left in the face that bore such a strong resemblance to Conar’s.

Galen raised his chin, no longer afraid of these men, for he realized they needed him as much as he

needed them. "Despite what any of you think, I meant Conar no real harm. He’s not only my brother,

he’s my twin. There is a bond."

Sentian spat on the floor. "A bond of betrayal!"

Galen defiantly raised his chin. "I will do anything to save him from what Tolkan plans."

"That is?" growled Hern.

"They will consecrate him to the Domination tomorrow evening."

"And just what the hell does that mean?" Sentian demanded.

Galen looked away with shame. "They will take away his soul and make him One of Them."

He didn’t have time to duck before Sentian’s fist shot forward and brought the stars down from the

heavens.

* * *

Not a flicker of an eyelash, not a discernible movement of his chest as he breathed. He made no sound.

He stared straight ahead of him, past what was before his sight. There was an inner vision that kept him

so perfectly still, that made him ignore the agony subsiding in his body. That kept him so still and quiet.

He had not eaten; he had not slept. He had taken only watered wine during his four days inside the

oubliette.

They had untied his hands on the morning of the fourth day. Now, he sat with knees drawn up, his wrists

resting on them as he kept vigil. His body still ached in dozens of places; his manhood throbbed with a

fiery pain that brought tears when he relieved himself. His vision was still blurred and his throat was raw

from screams. His head ached horribly, but he ignored that pain; he was used to that. There were far too

many other hurts to warrant one lingering long on his mind.

He felt such detachment from his surroundings that he all but ignored the rodents scampering about on

the filthy rushes. Occasionally he would swat one as the flea-infested creature came too close, but most

of the time, he simply chose to disregard the squealing things. Once, he might have been terrified of them

coming so close. Once, he might have died within the confining walls of this closed in, darkened place.

But not now. Now, it didn’t matter.

There were dark circles under his eyes, bruises, cuts, welts over most of his flesh. A few deep abrasions

bothered him as his nerve-endings became aware of them, but he tried to overlook them. They were

nothing compared to the burns. Two interlocking oval marks had been burned deeply into the flesh of his

upper left thigh near the crease of his groin. They were Tolkan’s brands, brands of ownership. Tolkan

Coure’s personal ownership of him.

Those hurt him most of all.

His wrists and ankles were scraped raw, oozing pus, pus his jailers daily drained. He knew why. It was

the same reason they came to take away the chamberpot each morning.

His left wrist hung at an odd angle, since no one had bothered to set it. He didn’t even think they were

aware this wrist had also been broken before the other one had.

It didn’t matter. Nothing did. What did he care?

A sound overhead at the opening to his cell made his blue eyes flicker, but he didn’t move. Wasn’t even

curious to know what they were doing. What did it matter?

His ears took in the creak of the metal grating as it was scraped away from the opening. He heard the

slide of the hemp ladder, the first heavy pull on the rope as the visitor started climbing down toward him

from the twenty-foot height. Involuntarily, he lowered his head, for the fall of light hurt his eyes, but he

gave no outward sign that it made a difference.

Kaileel Tohre stepped down from the last rung of the hemp ladder. He held up his lantern to better see

the prince, and what he saw made him squint with concern. He felt something alien, something beyond his

belief. He felt something akin to contrition at what he had helped do to this man. "Conar?"

Conar turned his face. He had not heard that hated voice for nearly a week. He didn’t want to hear it

now. A sound that might have been a moan of despair escaped his compressed lips. What did Tohre

want?

Kaileel hunkered beside him and placed the lantern on the floor. "Look at me."

Though he tried not to, didn’t want to, Conar turned his head.

Kaileel flinched. The man’s face was devoid of life, of expression, of warmth, of vitality. He seemed to

take a long time before he finally focused on Tohre’s face.

"Leave me alone, Kaileel."

Kaileel raised his hand and a chalice appeared out of the darkness. "Drink this. It will help," he said

quietly, extending the chalice to Conar’s lips.

Conar looked at the goblet, then shook his head.

A stab of fear ran through Kaileel’s black heart. He tensed. "You must drink this, Conar. You must! I

insist."

With a defeated sigh, Conar allowed the rim of the chalice to be placed to his lips. He closed his eyes as

the foul-tasting elixir flowed into his mouth. He swallowed, grimacing as the taste flooded his senses. The

aftertaste rocked through him like a sledgehammer. He stiffened, his eyes going wide, his lips drawing

back in a rictus of agony.

"No!" Kaileel whispered, reaching out to grab Conar as the full impact of the brew gripped the prince.

"Kaileel!" he screamed, wrenching forward against the High Priest, horrible pain ripping through his

body. He doubled over, held stiffly against Kaileel’s chest. Sheer torment ricocheted through him at an

alarming speed. His gut cramped, his head spun, his throat felt raw and burned with the taste of acid.

"Here!" Kaileel shouted, another chalice suddenly appearing. "Drink this! Now!" He thrust the chalice to

Conar’s lips and poured the potion down the convulsing man’s throat.

"Kaileel, help!" Conar whimpered, bucking in the grasp of Kaileel’s arms. He struck out, felt himself

clasped tightly to Kaileel, and then slumped as his entire body went numb from head to toe. His eyes

rolled up in his head and he slipped into unconsciousness.

It took a full ten minutes before he woke, another ten before he could make his vocal chords work. His

ears buzzed, but he could hear Kaileel’s soothing voice, see the man’s hands moving over his face even

though he could feel nothing of the touch.

"You’ll be all right, now, Beloved," Kaileel told him, threading his fingers through Conar’s matted hair.

"What…what was that?" Conar managed to croak through lips that had blistered from the first elixir’s

touch.

"The potion was outlawed years ago. If Tolkan knew I had given it to you…" Kaileel shuddered.

"Why do you have to keep hurting me, Kaileel?" Conar pleaded, finding Kaileel’s eyes.

"Ah, Conar," Kaileel sighed, shaking his head. He let the man slide out of his arms, nodding at the

movement that had been restored to the prince’s body. "There was no way I could have known, else I

wouldn’t have given you the first potion."

"Known what?"

"There is still some good in you. Not even Raphian’s minions realized how deeply ingrained that good

resides within your soul. The Rite of Passage should have purged it from you, but it did not. Not all of it."

He let out a long, harsh breath. "You still have enough left in you to make you fight the Transmigration.

What hold we have gained over you is not complete. It has been blocked, no doubt, by the love you

bear that bitch. Now, the Rite of Consecration will be harder still."

"In the end you’ll win."

Kaileel, for the first time, wasn’t so sure. "I would have thought the prime evil within you at your birth

would have held sway at some point in your life. I have tried to make you see that part of your nature."

"I am not evil, Kaileel." The voice went soft as a whisper. "At least, I wasn’t."

"You resisted. I failed somewhere. You should have felt the need to be One with me."

"It wasn’t from lack of you trying." Conar shivered, remembering vividly his abusive childhood in this

ungodly place.

"The ancients say: As the twig is bent, so shall the tree grow." Kaileel’s pale eyes narrowed in

consideration. "You should have changed long ago. All the signs were there. All the right feelings were

instilled in you, but you resisted. I have no explanation."

"There is a greater power than evil, Kaileel." Conar’s head swirled. It grew difficult to speak and he was

very, very tired.

"And what power is that, Beloved?"

"You wouldn’t understand."

Kaileel stroked Conar’s dirty hair and became surprised when the man didn’t flinch or try to move

away. His face softened with love. "How do you feel otherwise?"

A hoarse, grating whisper. "I hurt, Kaileel."

The High Priest felt a catch in his throat. "I know, Beloved. That is why I brought the treacle in the first

place. It was to take away the poisons in your system. I would never have given it to you if I had known

your body could not tolerate it. I wished only to soothe you."

Conar turned to lie on his side. He drew his knees close to his chest, his left wrist cupped in his other

hand. He grimaced as the bones in his wrists scraped against one another.

"Is it broken?" Kaileel asked. He reached out, careful to hold the hand straight as he took it. "Conar,

why didn’t you say something to one of the guards?"

"It doesn’t matter."

"It does! I could have healed it."

With a voice strained raw from the horrors he had already endured, Conar answered him. "There is

nothing you can give me that will ever heal me."

"I could have saved you from—"

"From what? From Tolkan’s wrath? From his hands on me?" A hard shudder went through his body

before he looked over his shoulder. "Did you enjoy watching me suffer, Kaileel? Do you enjoy seeing it

now?"

"All this could have been avoided."

"Not once I gave myself up to you."

Kaileel had been ordered by the Tribunal to give the prince information he truly did not wish to deliver. If

there was any way he could avoid it, he would, but he knew They were listening.

"I must…" he began, then looked away from the torment stamped on Conar’s face, and cleared his

throat before looking back. "I must tell you…you did not have to come here to get your lady back. You

could have retrieved her on your own."

Conar’s forehead crinkled. "I don’t understand."

Kaileel drew in a deep breath before he delivered the coup de grace that would seal Conar’s fate. He

held the young man’s puzzled gaze. "You had the power within you to take her back of your own

accord. All you needed to do was use it. The gods would have snatched her away from us and returned

her to you. Had you but known the Incantations of Deliverance, she would now be safe in your arms and

you in hers. If you had completed your training in the Temple, you could have eaily rescued her and you

would not be here with us. But you have ever been stubborn, Conar, and your arrogance has been your

undoing. You have never listened else you would have remembered me telling you long ago that you had

such power."

For a long moment, Conar said nothing. He simply stared at his tormentor—this man who had caused

him such agony all his life—then smiled and a sad, bitter laugh escaped his cracked lips.

Kaileel blinked with surprise. "This knowledge does not anger you, Beloved?"

Conar shook his head, feeling even more listless and numb. "What difference would it have made if I had

known? I would never have used that ungodly power, and you know it."

He lay down. A slow rush of breath escaped the full lips and he was fast asleep, the drug having taken