WINDWEEPER (13 page)

Easing Liza out of his arms, knowing Brelan wanted to be alone with Liza and wanting that also, Grice stood. He jerked his head toward the door and was relieved when Chand nodded.

When the door closed behind the Wynth brothers, Brelan moved sat at the head of the bed, taking Liza in his arms and cradling her against his chest. One slim hand entwined its fingers with his and he rested his chin on her head.

"Thank you for finding her for me, Bre."

"I wish to the gods it had not been me," he said honestly.

"Where?" She had to know.

He saw no reason not to tell her. "At a place called the Hound and Stag Inn near Iomal. The innkeeper found her in the loft there."

Brelan could not have known how bitterly that knowledge hurt the woman he held, could not have known the significance of the babe being found where her parents had first met. He was stunned when Liza turned her head into his chest and wailed, sounding as if her heart shattered. Her body trembled with such violence Brelan became alarmed.

Unable to quiet her uncontrollable sobbing, her shudders of agony, afraid for her state of mind, he called for one of the guards to find Cayn.

When no answer came after the second and third calls, he cursed softly, easing her down to lie on the bed in a ball of grief, and stalked rapidly to the door, throwing open the portal with an angry snap.

Just as he opened his mouth to chastise the men for not paying better attention, all light suddenly disappeared from his world and he sank slowly to the floor in a heap.

Liza felt strong arms around her, closing her in, protecting her, and she pressed her body into their warmth. She heard the solid beat of his heart, smelled the sweet cinnamon odor of his body and her head came up, her tears ceasing on a hitch of breath.

Her eyes widened as she looked into the troubled blue gaze of her husband. Her world tilted back into prospective. She clutched him to her in a frenzy of need, burying her face against his shirt.

Conar knew it would be only a matter of minutes before Brelan's body would be found outside the door. It might take a little longer until Ward's and Drummond's unconscious bodies were found in the linen closet down the hall. He had locked his bedroom door behind him, but he knew the lock wouldn't keep anyone truly intent on gaining entrance out for long.

"Listen to me, love," Conar said urgently, raising her tear-stained face to meet his. "Will you leave with me?"

"Of course," she answered, her voice tiny and lost.

"We shall have to leave her behind."

There was only a slight hesitation. "Where you go, I go, Milord. It is you who is in danger here."

Standing, he pulled her to her feet, and gathered her robe from the chair. "There are clothes in the skiff. We must hurry."

A muffled curse came from outside the door, then a bump, another curse, a jiggle of the door handle. Brelan's angry voice demanded the portal be opened. Something hard hit the oaken panel and Brelan's voice raised in alarm.

"Elizabeth?" he shouted as the door shook with the force of his weight. "Open the door!"

Conar jerked his wife toward the armoire and shoved her clothes to one side. He ran his hand along the back of the cabinet, cursing.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, turning with fear to the door.

"A hidden passageway," he mumbled as he flipped up a lock and the back of the armoire opened into a dark hallway.

"What?" she gasped.

He swung her into the narrow corridor. He nudged her to one side, then moved the panel back in place, shutting out all light.

He slid his hand along the panel until he found the latch. He threw the bolt, then fumbled for her hand in the pitch-black darkness. "Trust me," he said and began to pull her down the corridor.

Behind them, a splintering noise echoed through the corridor. His bedroom had been breached. They faintly heard angry shouts and curses.

Pulling his wife down the long corridor, Conar felt sweat trickling down his back. Unable to see, feeling the air being driven out of his lungs from the suffocating grip of the enclosed space, he had to make himself keep walking. He was already gasping for air in the confines of the hallway. The claustrophobic agony of being squeezed to death left him weak and panting.

By the time Liza realized his plight, she put a steadying, calming arm around his waist. She could smell the fresh air ahead and pushed past him, wedging him to one side so she could lead the way. A faint halo of light beckoned to her and she guided him to an arrow slit.

Leaning his hot forehead against the cool sea breeze pouring in through the slit, Conar willed his knees not to buckle and his hands to stop shaking. He was quivering all over and his gasps for air were labored and painful to hear. With his face pressed to the slight strip of light, he took huge gulps of the fresh air and realized his heart was beating faster than he ever knew it could.

"Conar," Liza whispered and heard a slight whimper escape his throat. She took him in her arms, unable to understand the extent of his terror, but perceptive enough to know he was going through a hell on earth. She smoothed back a lock of damp hair that fell into his eyes. "I am here with you, Beloved."

Clutching her tightly to him, he drew on her strength until he was sure he could lead them out of the corridor. Knowing Brelan would remember the secret wall inside the armoire, he realized they didn't have that much time before someone crashed through the false back.

"I'm all right," he managed to say and drew out of her arms. He took a deep breath and walked on trembling legs to the next arrow slit, bent and pried open the trap door he left unlocked earlier that afternoon.

He stepped onto the stairs leading into the far reaches of the wine cellar. Cool drafts of musky air swirled around the stone steps as, with Liza's hand now gripped in his, he descended. Once he had his wife at the bottom, he hastily climbed the stairs and bolted the trapdoor.

"Where does this lead?" Liza asked as he joined her. She looked at wine casks and stone walls and a single door at the farthest end of the room that she assumed must lead to the kitchens.

"There's a secret passageway behind this cask. I hope to the gods I'm the only one who remembers how to get out of here." He gripped the round front of a three-foot-wide cask. It swung outward on rusty hinges. "It goes into the Grotto." He motioned her ahead of him.

Liza stepped into the opening and felt a chill wind lapping through the small antechamber. When he closed the hatchway behind him, she turned. "Who else knows about this passage?"

"Brelan, but we should have enough time to make it to the skiff before he gets here." He began leading her toward a milky light. "I came up through that way, leaving plenty of evidence of my passing. I would have come to you sooner, but the damned catch on the inside of the armoire was thrown and I couldn't pry it loose."

Her face blanched. "That was you? Chand thought there were mice in there and even opened the door to see. My god, Conar. He could have seen you!"

"I'd have worried if that had happened."

There was a flood of bright light. Cobwebs stretched across a low archway. Conar knocked them away before reaching his hand to Liza. Once she was through the archway, he shouldered what appeared to be a slab of heavy rock back into its niche.

"Almost there." He pulled her down a short tunnel and into a small section of a stalactite-laden chamber, and then into the vast opening of the Widow's Grotto. They crossed the cavern, but as they neared the archway that jutted back into the mountain, he realized his luck had run out.

In the tunnel, blocking his way, stood Legion and four palace guards.

Liza groaned and clutched his arm.

"It's all right," he said, smiling, reassuring her, before he eased her fingers from his arm. He gently pushed her away, put up a hand when she tried to clutch him again. "No, love."

"Let him go, Legion!" she begged, placing herself between her husband and the men. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

Legion's eyes were sad, wary, as he looked past her to Conar. "You shouldn't have run."

Conar could see the resolve on Legion's face and knew he would arrest him. He couldn't let that happen. He had one chance to make it back the way he had come and he meant to take it.

"Goodbye, dearling," he whispered and stepped back.

"Conar, no!" Liza cried, reaching for him, but he spun away and broke into a run.

"Get her out of here!" Legion snapped to one of the guards, rushing past Liza.

He heard her shriek of protest and glanced back to see the guard flinging Liza over his shoulder and hurrying past the others to take her to safety. Lgion turned to see Conar disappearing around the bend beyond the far wall of the Grotto.

Conar made it as far as the secret rock panel before he heard the scraping of another panel off to his right. He darted his eyes to the sound and knew it would be only a matter of seconds before men came pouring out of the wine cellar.

He dared not go back the way from which he had just come, for he knew Legion and his men were closing in behind. He reached out for the panel before him and the color drained from his face. The panel began to move toward him. He didn't even have time to think about what to do next. His only chance, his only hope, was the pool of water in the Grotto; his only way to reach it was to bulldoze past Legion who was no doubt barring the way.

He had never tried to plumb the depths of the bubbling pool, but he knew the water fed into the sea. How far down he had to dive, and how long he had to do so weren't a consideration. He pivoted and shot back through the small chamber. Knowing he might drown was the only drawback of that way to freedom, but he couldn't let himself think about it.

As he ran toward the water, he barreled past Legion, knocking the older man sideways into the cavern wall. When he reached the pool, he had a momentary glimpse of the other guards who had accompanied Legion hurrying forward. He arched his body toward the murky green depths.

Then something hit him from behind, something hard and sharp. He twisted in agony, his spine throbbing all the way to his tailbone.

As he twisted, he fell at the edge of the water, rolled, and half-tumbled into the pool. Hands caught his clothing before he could slide into the green depths. His shirt ripped from one shoulder; nails dug painfully into his flesh as someone clawed at him.

He winced, howled in pain, and lashed out with one foot, connecting with a soft midsection before another strong hand gripped his ankle and dragged him onto the bank. He kicked out again, caught another man in the groin, and managed to scramble up on all fours.

He had just gained his feet when someone shoved him. He stumbled to his knees in the shifting sand, badly twisting his ankle and yelping.

Despite the shooting agony in his spine and ankle, he managed to roll away and get to his feet. His hand went to the dagger that rested behind his back in the waistband of his breeches. He drew it out, palmed it until he clutched the deadly weapon in a fighting position, blade edge down.

"Don't be a fool, Conar," Legion called in an exasperated voice. He limped toward his brother. "Violence never settled anything. Put down the knife and let's talk."

"And then what, Legion?"

"You'll have to come with me."

"If I won't?"

"For the love of Alel! Don't make this any harder for me than it already is." He took a few steps forward, but Conar thrust the knife toward him. "Don't do that!"

"What choice have they given me? They won't listen to what I have to say. I've already been tried and convicted." A snide smile touched Conar's full lips. "Will I even get a trial?"

"The Tribunal will decide. It was out of Papa's hands the moment you ran."

A wry laugh left the finely chiseled lips. "What do you think the verdict was? Imprisonment? Exile? Hanging? Or just a prolonged stay with the Inquisitor until I have no mind left?"

Legion flinched, the choices too horrid to imagine. He eased to his right, aware of the nine men, men he didn't even know, who just joined the other three behind him. He looked for Brelan, didn't see him, didn't see anyone he knew, and turned back to Conar.

"Give yourself up, Conar. If you fight, there's going to be bloodshed."

Conar swung his gaze around the cavern, seeing hatred and bloodlust on the faces of the twelve men staring at him. He felt a stab of intense fear go through him and knew if these men got the chance they'd kill him anyway. He shook his head. "Not as long as there's a breath in my body and strength in my blade. I have done nothing wrong."

"You have no choice, Conar!"

"I am making my own choice."

"Not this time," Legion warned, shaking his head at the boy's stubbornness. Didn't he realize how dangerous his position was? "The choice was made for you when you ran."

There was pleading in Conar's eyes, pleading for understanding, but his voice was as steady as his dagger's sharp edge. "If you take me back, the Tribunal will see me in hell before they're finished with me. Kaileel and Tolkan will make sure of it. Is that what you want?"

"That isn't what I want, but you haven't given me an alternative! There's no way you can leave here, Conar. How long do you think you can hold out against us?"

"Until I am either free or dead."

"I don't want to see you hurt, Coni. I want no bloodshed, especially not yours."

"Then take your men and leave. Stay, and I promise, blood will flow. Mine and yours."

Legion took a deep breath. He headed straight for Conar. "You won't kill me."

"I'm warning you, A'Lex!" There was a note of pain in Conar's voice. "I swear to the gods I'll use this. Stay the hell away from me!"

"I can't."

Conar backed up, was startled when he encountered the stone wall, then glanced sideways, his knife held rigidly in his fist, searching for an exit. One of the guards lobbed a rock. It hit Conar on the collarbone, startling him, numbing his arm all the way down to his fingers, making him lose the dagger.

That was all Legion needed. He leapt across the distance between him and Conar. One mighty fist exploded into Conar's face, arching him sideways and sending him plummeting.

"
No!
" Legion yelled just before a savage kick landed solidly in the small of Conar's back and the young man cried out with pain. "
No, I said! Leave him alone!
" Legion rushed forward, yanked one man out of his way, backhanded a second, shoved a third away from his prone brother, and hit another who reached out to grasp a handful of Conar's hair. "
Get the hell away from him!"

Conar tried to scramble away from the men. He was barely aware of Legion struggling with two who had leapt forward to take hold of the older man. He saw a guard slam the hilt of his sword against the side of Legion's head, and watched as his brother fell. "Legion!"

Another booted foot caught Conar in his ribcage. Even before he could draw breath, another foot slammed into his other side and he felt a rib cave in. Gasping with pain, calling his brother's name, he drew up his knees to avoid a kick aimed at his crotch. The kick, instead, connected sharply with his thigh and he felt the searing agony all the way to the soles of his feet.

"
Get him up!
" the man who seemed to be in charge yelled. "
Get the bastard up!"

Two men pulled Conar to his feet, jammed his arms behind his back and pulled up fiercely on them. He didn't recognize a single man there.

"You remember me, Highness?" the leader sneered as he got in Conar's face. "My name be Kullen. That sound familiar to you?"