WINDHEALER (14 page)

"I want as much land as possible to go to the Temple. The rest, what is of no use to us, may be given to those bumbling fools."

"The homeless."

"Whatever." Tohre fanned his hand in dismissal. "Make sure there is a designated area for that trash." He sniffed. "If huts must be built, build them cheaply."

"Anything else?"

"No."

Legion knew he had been dismissed. He stared at the man, hating him with every fiber of his being, and when Tohre looked at him, the King's face twisted with loathing.

"Get out before you join your brother in the Labyrinth!"

More gut-wrenching fear shot through Legion. Not fear for himself, but for Brelan. For one heart-stopping moment, he thought Tohre might well know what he and the others were about, but there was nothing but malice in the old priest's eyes. He turned on his heel and left the Arch-Prelate's office as quickly as he could.

Once the door was closed, Tohre sat back and stared into space. Plans had been made to keep Brelan Saur in the Labyrinth, for once the man arrived there, once he knew the secret, he could not be allowed to return to Serenia.

The cowl of her robe held tightly to her face, Liza stepped into the women's section of the Temple and walked silently down the aisle between the pews. Only two candlesticks lit the room, the flames of dancing along the wick as she passed. The scent of sandalwood filled the air and the temperature was cooler than was comfortable even with her heavy wool robe.

Genuflecting toward the Presence Light near the altar, the Queen of Serenia slipped gracefully into a pew and pulled down the kneeler. Sinking to her knees, she clasped her hands and lifted her eyes to the statue of Tethys, The Mother of all Mankind.

"Blessed One," Liza whispered, "Hear the pleading of Your Maidservant. I am sorely in need of Thy intervention. Look into my heart and see my loyalty to the Daughters of the Multitude. Search my soul and be assured I am worthy of Thy help. I leave my heart and soul open for Thee to judge."

Liza bowed her head. She could hear the tick of the wood beams overhead settling, a bell chiming in the men's side of the Temple, a door closing somewhere deep inside the complex. Her jaw trembled from the cold.

She waited for more than an hour, the time crawling past. She had almost given up on being visited by the deity when a soft blue light began to glow in one corner of the chancel. The faint scent of lavender filled the room.

"Your heart is troubled, Daughter," a gentle voice said.

Liza brushed back her cowl. "My son is in the hands of The Evil, Gracious Lady."

The blue light shimmered, then its rays solidified into the form of a beautiful woman with long dark hair. The Mother Goddess Tethys smiled sadly. "We know."

"He will be of the Age in a few months and they will take him to the Abbey unless…" Liza's vision wavered as tears gathered in her eyes. Her lips trembled more from emotion than the coldness.

"Did you not come to Iluvia and ask that Lady to grant you communion with your son?"

And I am grateful the Goddesses allowed me to speak with him."

"Thus you know he is well," the Mother Goddess said.

"But they are mistreating him," Liza sobbed, her tears flowing freely. "He knows pain…"

"That was his fate, Daughter. He is the son of Conar McGregor and as such was destined to know the same pain as his father before him."

"Had his father lived—"

"What is it you seek this morn, Daughter?"

Liza felt the unvoiced reprimand and hung her head. "I can not bear the thought of knowing he will be consecrated to The Evil."

"What will be, will be with your son, my child. Your prayers should be for the envoy you sent to bring home your loved ones."

"I do ask for their safety, Blessed One. I say prayers morning and night for their quick return." She looked up, surprised to see the Goddess standing directly before her.

"Your destiny lies with Brelan Saur. You know this, do you not?" Tethys asked.

"Aye."

"So you know he will return safely."

Tears clogged Liza's throat. She twisted her hands together, her heart aching.

"He will return when the Gods and Their Ladies decree it is his time. If it is before your son is taken to the Abbey, so be it. If not, you will have to live with Their decision. Until then, make entreaty for your husband and those who are silently fighting The Evil."

Chastised, Liza covered her face with her hands and broke into wretched sobbing. "I have lost Corbin as I have lost his father!"

"It is a woman's lot to bear the pain of what men do to one another. Such is the way of Life."

"I can not bear this."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself!" the Mother Goddess ordered. "You have been granted the ability to communicate with your son. That is more than Conar McGregor was allowed when he passed time at the Abbey! Speak with your son. He is but a few rooms away."

Liza jerked up her head. "Where?" she asked, knowing she would never be allowed to see her firstborn son even if she could get past the Temple guards.

"Commune with the young one. Reassure him you are with him even until the end of your life and beyond. His father had a brother to comfort him during his trails. Corbin has only you. Let him know he is not alone."

Liza swiped at the tears clouding her vision. "Won't they hear me?" she asked, referring to the Brothers of the Domination who ran the Temple.

"Your connection to Corbin is one of lifelines and bloodlines, Daughter. He is a part of your body and you of his. The communion could be heard only by another whose life is so entwined with yours and Corbin's, and that man is beyond hearing his son's cries."

At the reminder of her loss—and the loss of her son—Liza could feel the pain in her soul.

"Open your mind and your heart and speak to your child, Daughter. He needs his mother dearly this day."

A whimper escaped Liza's lips. "They are hurting him?"

"Call your child and he will feel only your love, Daughter. Bid him call you when The Evil is reaching out to him and he will know only the numbing embrace of your care."

Tethys' form dissolved in a pulse of azure light.

"Corbin!" Liza called.

"Mama?" was the immediate answer.

"My dearling," she whispered, and for more than an hour spoke silently to him, helping him through torments he could not or would not reveal. Their communion on the metaphysical plain was heard by no prying ears.

After Liza left the Temple, she took to her bed for four days.

* * *

The town of Jedry sat on the easternmost tip of Ionary. Vast sections of the land were utterly useless save for harvesting stone and fill dirt. What farmable land there was, Tohre had demanded for the Temple. The inhospitable acreage allotted to the homeless of Ionary was populated thickly with scorpions, vipers, and other poisonous denizens.

Sitting under the sweltering canvas of a dilapidated tent, the King of Serenia wiped sweat from his brow and listened to the complaints of the Ionarians queued up beneath a broiling sun to be assigned a secket of land.

"There be no water for nigh ten miles, King Legion," one fellow whined. "How are we to get water to that plot of land?"

Legion looked at Teal, who checked a map. "He's right, Your Grace," Teal said, his lips twitching at the title. The gypsy would never get used to the designation. "He and his family would have to truck in the water."

"Begging your pardon, Majesty," the man's wife spoke, "but we got no wagon to be hauling nothin' with."

"Silence, hag!" one of the Temple guards snarled and would have struck the old woman had Teal not stepped in his path.

The guard sneered at the King's Counselor and shoved away du Mer. Three other guards hooted with laughter, for none ever showed the half-breed respect. They nudged one another as the gypsy stumbled, having to reach out to one of the servants to keep from falling.

Legion ground his teeth, for he had no more authority here than did his friend. The real authority lay with the Temple guards—hand-picked by Kaileel Tohre—who had escorted Legion to Jedry.

"Be thankful you will have a plot of land on which to be buried," the guard sneered. "Next!"

Legion locked eyes with the old man. "I will see what can be done, Grandfather."

"That be all we can ask, Majesty." The man bowed, took his wife's arm and hobbled away.

Teal shook himself, retrieved the plot map, dusted sand from it and looked at his king.

"Make a note of the gentleman's name, Lord Teal," Legion said. "I believe it was McHatton."

Teal nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

For more than three hours, Legion met with the displaced inhabitants of Jedry. He assigned seckets of land that measured 100 by 100 feet while all the time wondering what manner of hovel could be erected on such a meager plot.

"It don't take much for them," one of the guards said. "They've been sleeping in alleyways and under viaducts for years. A roof over their head is a luxury they thought never to possess."

At the end of the day, Legion was weary and heartsick, his soul burdened by the plight of those to whom he could give no land. He looked into the eyes of those he'd had evicted from land the Temple desired and knew these people hated him as much as they hated the Domination.

"You can't blame them, Legion," Teal said softly when one woman spat at Legion's feet as her home was being torn down. "Some of them have lived in these places, hovels though they may be, for generations."

"I don't blame them. I blame me, you, and all the others who fought the rebellion and lost."

The two men were walking alone, the guards having trouped to a tavern to while away the remainder of the day. The inn where Legion and Teal were lodged was crowded with Temple guests and neither man wanted to be near the Domination's sycophants.

They had taken their evening meal at a small tavern whose inhabitants had fled as soon as they realized who the two men were.

"I think you scared them away, du Mer." Legion chuckled, but he was hurt deeply by the rejection. Many of those who had rushed from the tavern had cast him a murderous look.

"Nay, Sire," Teal grunted. "They must have heard you were planning on giving a concert this eve. That's enough to scare the bejimminy out of the staunchest warrior."

Legion snorted as he threw a leg over a chair and sat at one grimy table.

"What's it to be?" the tavern keeper asked. "Ale, mead, or a piece of advice?"

Legion thought to quell the man's rudeness, but the barkeep was leaning on the bar, his chin propped in his hand, smiling.

"Advice about getting the hell out of your tavern before we're poisoned?" Teal snapped, his hand on the dagger at his hip.

"Advice about a meeting I'm thinking Lord Legion should attend."

"It's King Legion, fool," Teal grated, "or haven't you heard the news out here in the sticks?"

"Ain't but one king of Serenia to my way of thinking, and I'm reckoning one day that one will be sitting on the throne at the Palace of the Winds."

"And who would that be, friend?" Legion inquired.

The barman shrugged. "Prince Coron, or Prince Dyllon. I never did know which was the oldest. The man lifted his apron to polish the top of the bar.

"Coron is the oldest," Legion said, getting up to walk to the bar. "Rumor has it the two young princes died during the rebellion. Do you know something I, as their uncle, do not?"

The barman chuckled. "You know as well as I them two be safe with their aunt in Chrystallus, Lord Legion." He locked eyes with Legion. "Just as you and I know there be men willing to fight to put a McGregor on the throne."

Legion quirked one brow. "And say you do put a McGregor on the throne, what then?"

The man lowered his voice. "Go to the crossroads to the north, Milord. Take the road to Edenson. Just a'fore you come to the cromlech marked Beliech Aschendaie, there is a pathway through the grass. Follow that path to the clearing. There'll be men there this evening."

"To cut our throats and take our purses," Teal scoffed. "Do you take us for bumpkins?"

Legion held up his hand. He searched the barman's eyes. "What's to keep your men from murdering us, friend? We're strangers to your town. We could be Tribunal spies for all you know."

The tavern keeper smiled. "You are his brother. His memory is as dear to those of us who were there that day in the courtyard as it was before the Tribunal took him from us." He gripped Legion's forearm. "You say his name, Lord Legion, and not a man at the meeting place will challenge you."

Legion looked at the hand on his arm. Slowly, his gaze lifted to the barman's. "That's the ancient symbol."

Teal came over to the bar and craned his neck to see what was on the barman's hand. His eyes widened and he turned to exchange a look with Legion.

"Aye, it is the mark of the Dark Overlord," the barman said quietly.

Teal grunted. "No one believes those old wives' tales."

"I do," Legion stated as his gaze returned to the twin crescents tattooed on the barman's hand. The two lines bisected so they resembled a bird in flight.

"Say his name when they ask who you be and I guarantee your safety. They'll be waiting for you, Lord Legion."

"You're a bigger fool than…" Teal began, but Legion grabbed Teal's arm and started pulling him toward the door.

"You aren't serious!" Teal gasped, stumbling along. He pulled his arm free. "We aren't going out to that—"

"Shut up," Legion snapped, venturing into the night.

"Legion, for the love of Alel! We're walking into a trap."

"I don't think so."

"Why the hell not?"

Legion turned to Teal. "Any man who would dare to have a tattoo of the Black Ascendancy on his hand where a Tribunal guard can see it is one helluva brave man."

"He could have had that tattoo since before the rebellion."

"He could have, but I don't think so." He lowered his voice. "I have heard rumblings of a resistance outside of Serenia. This could well be it."

"The Dark Overlord is a myth. You really don't think a godlike creature is going to hop down from the heavens and lead us out of bondage!"

"But we may one day have a man with the courage to do it."

Teal stared at his friend of so many years, almost plucking the thoughts from A'Lex's head. "If he'd lived," Teal said, finishing the thought.

"If he'd lived."

The two stood in Jedry's dusty street for a moment more, then turned toward the North. An hour later, they came upon the cromleck whose Ionarian name was translated into Black Ascendancy in Serenian High Speech. Without a word, they took the path cutting through the tall grass.

As they came to a clearing, an unseen speaker's voice broke the stillness. "Who be ye?"

"Legion A'Lex and Tealson du Mer," Legion answered.

"Who sent ye?"

Legion straightened his shoulders. "Conar McGregor."

From out of the tall grass, men ventured forth, most with pikes or rusty broadswords clutched in their fists. Scarves covered their faces, revealing only their eyes. One man came to stand before Legion and Teal. "It is in his memory we have gathered."

Legion smiled, recognizing the barman's voice. "And it is in his name we ask to join you."