WindSeeker (9 page)

He seemed to become aware that he was crying, and he angrily reached up to wipe away the signs of his

weakness. "I wanted to die rather than have them keep on hurting me. I couldn’t take anymore."

She put out a trembling hand, wanting to hold him, needing to let him know how much she loved him, but

he stood and walked away.

Conar could hear her crying behind him, but he couldn’t go to her. His memories of the abuse rose up to

render him immobile, immune to the wretched sounds of his wife’s tears. Some detached part of him

listened, but it didn’t really seem to matter. He was lost in the past and his body was feeling every hand

that had ever touched it.

"Is that how you came by the scars on your back?" she asked. "Was it Kaileel Tohre who did those

things to you? Is that why you bear the scars of his belt on your back?"

His voice was flat, devoid of inflection. "Sweeting, he was only one among many."

She was on her feet, grabbing at his arms. "What did they do to you?" she shouted, unaware that Storm

and Marsh had both risen at the sound of her raised voice.

A self-pitying laugh was forced from him. "It would be easier to say what they
didn’t
do."

Although the two Elite could not hear what was being said, they knew something was wrong. Both men

stooped, withdrew their crossbows from the ground, and stood facing the young Prince and his wife.

"Beatings and mental abuse were all part of their strategy, Liza. They use it to control you. To break

down your defenses, to make you vulnerable. Sex was secondary. It was almost like a reward, a reward

for those who had broken a boy’s will. Being able to control a young mind, to strip it of its natural

inclinations, to numb it to ordinary moral concepts, to cripple it, to twist it was what they most enjoyed.

So the sex was like a dessert to them. They would find your one weakness and pray on that weakness,

Liza. They would enhance it. They would hurt you with it."

"I don’t…" She was trying to control the scream welling up inside her.

He looked at her. "I am terrified of closed-in places, Liza. I have been ever since I was three and nearly

died when one of my brothers locked me in Mama’s armoire. Kaileel knew about my fear and used that

to control me. If the beatings didn’t work, or the starvation, or the mental abuse, being locked inside a

stone crypt would."

Remembered terror haunted his eyes. "I nearly died every time they forced me into that thing. It was the

sort of torture that can do more harm than all the physical and mental abuse a child can undergo. You get

a clear, close look at your own mortality and your inability to control your life. When they do something

like that enough times, you will do anything to keep them from doing it again." He lowered his head, tears

falling down his face, his shoulders shaking violently. "Even go willingly to some man’s bed to keep it

from happening."

"I’ll kill him!" she spat, her hands clenching into fists. "I’ll slit Kaileel Tohre’s throat!"

Storm and Marsh looked at one another and decided to walk toward the couple.

She started past Conar, but he took her struggling body into his arms, trying to stop her sobbing.

"Liza, shush," he whispered. "It was a long time ago and is best forgotten."

"No one harms the man I love! No one! I’ll kill that worthless bastard!"

"His day will come, Liza," Conar said, pulling her head to his chest, a little amused at her language.

"There are others who will be hurt if Tohre is reported now. Let me handle it. I made myself a promise a

long time ago to see him cast out of this kingdom." He put his hand on her chin and raised her face to his,

gazing down with pride into her avenging face. "Together, we will destroy the Domination, Liza. I can feel

that."

"We will destroy the entire Temple and all those deranged—" His fingers silenced her.

"Not all of them are that way, Liza. There are some whose sexual preferences run to other men, but they

would never dream of forcing those preferences on another, especially a child. Only those of the

Domination, those consecrated to that vile entity, Raphian, force children into having sex with them." He

could feel her trembling with rage.

"They must be stopped, Conar!"

"And we will stop them, beloved. There are men within the Temple who are resisting the Brotherhood of

the Domination every day of their lives, but they can do no more against that evil than I could as a child."

"I will not see you hurt ever again by their evil!"

"With you at my side, I’m not worried, little one."

"Your Grace!" Thom shouted.

Conar felt the sting of the viper’s fangs as it flung itself at him from its place of concealment at the

fountain’s base. He looked down at his punctured thigh and saw the reptile coiling itself to strike again.

He went for the dagger at his thigh and the venomous creature struck again, snagging the back of his

hand. He cried in pain and lurched backwards, dragging his wife with him, spinning her sideways, shoving

her as far behind him as he could, protecting her with his own body, making sure she was out of the

range of the striking viper. He felt the hit come again and again in his calf and he flinched, spinning around

to confront the snake, wondering how the reptile could strike so many times, so fast, and so unerringly.

An arrow sang through the air, burying itself almost to the flèche in the soft ground, severing the viper’s

head from its writhing body.

"Conar!" Liza screamed.

He glanced up briefly to see Storm’s anxious face as he held a struggling Liza in his arms.

It was the last thing Conar McGregor saw before darkness opened its gaping jaws and swallowed him.

"He took four hits before Marsh killed the damned thing," Legion told his father as they took the stairs

to the sleeping chambers two at a time.

"How the hell did a viper get in the garden?" Gerren snarled. He barely broke his stride as two Elite

Guards snapped to attention, one throwing the door to Conar’s room open for his King. "There are no

vipers in Serenia!"

Thom glanced up from his place beside the unlit fireplace. "Highness, I am sorry." Shame filled his face.

Gerren shook his head. "Not your fault." He glanced at Cayn, the Healer, whose hands were gently

wrapping medicated linens around the fang marks on Conar’s thigh. "How is he?"

Cayn sent him a look of concern. "He’s a strong, healthy man, Majesty, but four hits?" He shrugged. "I

truly don’t know." His eyes went to Liza, who sat on the opposite side of the bed. "Others will do what is

needed beyond the help I can give."

Liza stared at the Healer. She gave a slight nod of understanding and her fingers tightened around her

husband’s limp hand.

Cayn stepped back from the bed. "Du Mer has been kind enough to let me use his room. Watch the

Prince closely and, if there is any change, call me." He bowed to his King, let his gaze rest momentarily

on Liza, and then left.

Gerren turned to Thom. "The viper was placed in the garden?"

Thom let out a long breath. "We think so."

The King looked at Legion. "Hasdu?"

"Aye, Papa, it would seem so."

Thom cleared his throat, gaining everyone’s attention. "I’m to blame. If I hadn’t left him—"

"Nothing would have changed," Liza told him. "You didn’t see the serpent; Conar didn’t see it; I didn’t

see it." Her troubled eyes locked with Thom’s. "And if anyone should have seen it, Thommy, it should

have been me."

* * *

He stood on a hill overlooking the village of Iomal where he had first come to meet his beloved. He

observed the meadowland ablaze with spring colors, the grasses swaying in the soft breeze, changing

colors as they moved. Beyond, he could see the wavering heat of the desert sands wafting up to the

heavens, and beyond that, the giant cottonwood trees of the forest that rimmed the high sand dunes. If he

listened hard, he could hear the call of sea gulls over the dunes, even though Iomal was more than sixty

miles from the ocean. He thought he might even be smelling the lavender-scented flowers that dotted the

dunes, but wasn’t sure; the tang of the sea filled his nostrils.

Nearby, the meandering stream that ran by the old ruined abbey near Rommitrich Point gurgled and

slipped over the shallow rock bed. It was a pleasant sound, peaceful and calm. The air was cool, the

stream inviting, the wind soft, the sun bright with the promise of life.

He sat on the scented tufts of new-grown grass and pulled up his knees, circling them in the perimeter of

his arms.

He smiled.

He was at peace.

"Conar?" a deep, cheerful voice called to him.

He turned his head and saw the old man sitting on a rock a few feet away. The man smiled at him and he

answered the gentle, sweet smile.

"Are you happy, Conar?" His wrinkled face was warm with welcome.

"I am, Grandfather," Conar answered, "but I miss my lady."

"You love her very much, don’t you, son?"

"Very much."

"What would you do if you were to lose her, Conar?"

The smile left Conar’s face. "Are you going to take her from me, Grandfather? Is that what you will ask

of me for the happiness I’ve had these past three years?"

"I think not. But you know nothing is forever, Conar."

Conar looked away. "I know."

Stretching his aching back, the old man stood and gazed toward the setting sun. "You called me. What is

it you need, Conar?"

"My life, Grandfather. Is that possible?"

"Will you fulfill your bargain to me if I grant it?"

"You know I will, Grandfather. I always keep my word." His face went still with worry.

"Even if what I ask is hard to accept?" The kindly eyes seemed to bore to the center of Conar’s soul.

"Nothing would be as hard as losing the woman I love, Grandfather."

The old man shook His head. "There are some things far more painful, child. Would physical agony

deter you from wanting to go back?"

Conar wiped at the tears on his cheek. "Not if it meant we could be together. I have suffered before.

Physical pain can be endured, but life without Liza would be a torture I could not bear."

"How much are you willing to sacrifice to keep her, Conar?"

"I would give up everything I own."

The old man put a gnarled hand on the prince’s shoulder. "You may go back whenever it pleases you."

"What do I do in return, Grandfather?" He was suddenly very afraid of the answer.

"You will know in time, but let me warn you, child: Beware of false claims made in my name, Conar.

When I seek something of you, you, and you alone, will know of it. No others."

Conar’s lids closed.

When he opened his eyes, Liza’s smiling face was beaming with love.

"Good morn, Milord," she said, her voice tight with emotion.

Conar smiled, felt her lips on his, and closed his eyes again.

* * *

"Do Diabolusians stink?" another snorted.

Conar looked around as he came fully awake. People filled the room. He looked at his wife and grinned.

"I’m starving."

Liza ran her fingers down his stubbled cheek. "I knew you would be."

"How do you feel?" his father asked, coming into his line of vision.

"About as bad as a Diabolusian smells, I would imagine!" Hern Arbra, the Boreas Master-at-Arms,

snorted again. He folded his thick arms over an equally thick chest and lowered his blue gaze to Conar.

"How do you feel, brat?"

"Full."

"Full?" The King’s forehead wrinkled in concern.

"Gotta pee," Conar said.

Laughter rang out, relieved laughter that took some edge off the tension. Legion and Teal nodded at their

bedridden friend and headed for the door that Thom opened, leaving with them. The King kissed his

son’s forehead and laughed.

"See to him, Marsh." King Gerren winked and motioned Hern out of the room with him.

Conar craned his head over the bed as his wife knelt to retrieve the chamber pot. He looked at Marsh.

"I can pee by myself."

"I hope so, Commander," Marsh answered, but stayed where he was.

Conar glanced at Liza. "Are you going to stay, too?" He threw back the covers and eased his legs to the

floor. His head swam a little but he felt reasonably well.

"Do you want me to hold your hand?" she teased. His look made her blush to the roots of her hair. "You

can hold
that
, Milord!" she whispered and walked primly toward the door.

Holding on to the bedpost, Conar slowly stood. He smiled at his wife. "In the pot, Elizabeth. In the

gods-be-damned pot."

Liza nodded. There had been many times when that had not always been the case.

Conar could feel Marsh Edan and Storm Jale smirking as they stood sentinel by the door. He heard one

of the men stifle a laugh and looked up at them with murder in his eyes. "It splatters sometimes, you

know!"

"Of course, Your Grace," Marsh said with a serious expression.

Conar’s lips thinned with intent. When he was finished, he called to Marsh. "Would you get this before I

spill it?" He held out the pot.

Marsh, casting a quick, nervous look to Storm Jale’s amused face, frowned. He knew that too-sweet

tone. Jale looked quickly away, his lips pressed tightly together. Marsh let out a sigh.

"Marsh?" Conar prodded with an innocent expression.

"Aye, Commander." Marsh looked at the chamber pot and back up into his prince’s expressionless