WINDWEEPER (12 page)

"He
is
carrying something in his arms," Sentian said as he looked at Legion.

"It's Lord Saur, Commander," one of the tower guards called down to A'Lex.

"Aye," Legion answered, for he had recognized his brother Brelan Saur, too. His mind was on the rider, but his ears were all too aware of Liza's cries as she strove to break free of Grice's hold.

No one even thought to stop Conar as he crossed the inner drawbridge of the bailey and headed for the larger drawbridge that lay across a sea channel of the North Boreal. No one dared to speak to him as he left the drawbridge, crossed the moat, and stood at the foot of the earthworks, even though a dozen men followed.

Conar's entire body trembled as he stared up at Brelan's closed face. He couldn't bring himself to lower his gaze to the white bundle in his brother's arm. He knew what it was.

Brelan glanced up at the far battlements, and even though he couldn't see Liza from his place on the roadway, he could hear her shouts. Her cries, unintelligible from this distance, rent his already aching heart. He let his gaze slowly lower to his brother.

"Brelan?" Conar's voice broke.

Saur's hard stare made Conar flinch.

"Is it Nadia?" Legion asked.

Brelan shifted in the saddle, ignored Legion's question, and bent over, extended the bundle toward Conar. When Conar reached out his trembling arms, the amount of hatred he saw in Saur's dark eyes stunned him.

Never taking his glare from Conar, Brelan spoke. "If I thought I hated you before, I hate you even more now."

He kicked his horse. The steed bolted forward, digging its massive hind legs into the oyster-shell pathway, and left the men standing in a haze of dust.

Conar cradled the bundle to his chest and looked at Legion.

Legion would have taken the babe out of Conar's arms, but Conar clutched the white bunting tighter to him. Taking a deep breath, Legion made to lift away the material, but Conar pulled the babe out of his reach.

"She's sleeping. You'll wake her, Legion."

Legion glanced at Sentian, whose eyes were moist. Both men were aware of the stillness of the object in Conar's arms.

Legion held out his hands. "Let me have her, now."

"No." Conar planted a tender kiss on the bunting.

"We need to take her to her mama. Let me take her to Liza."

Conar shifted the bundle to his shoulder, and patted it as though he were soothing the babe. His hand slid up and down the material. "I'll take her to her mama."

Legion had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Papa's guards won't let you inside the keep. You know that. Let me have her, Conar. She probably needs feeding."

Conar shook his head.

"It's cold out here, Milord," Sentian said, tears falling down his cheeks. "Let your brother take the babe inside." Conar shifted his gaze to Sentian's. "She probably needs her diaper changed, too, and you know how you don't like doing that." Sentian tried to smile.

Conar's voice was soft. "I don't mind so much."

Legion could see the tremor in Conar's hands. The man was about to shatter. He put his hand on Conar's rigid arm and tugged. "Give her to me, little brother."

Conar brought the bundle higher, nuzzled it against his cheek, then lowered it toward Legion. "Be careful of her."

Legion could only nod as he took the wrapped bundle. As Conar handed his burden to his brother, the corner of the fabric covering the babe's face fell away. Legion stared at the small form of his niece. A silent
no
formed on his trembling lips; his gaze snapped up to Conar's.

The young Prince had kept close watch on Legion's face all the while, taking in every facial expression, every breath. Seeing the horror now stamped on Legion's face, Conar's brows drew together in confusion, he tightened his hold on the bundle, and he began to lower his gaze.

A keening whimper dredged up from the depths of his soul. His face began to crumble; his body shook uncontrollably; he thought his knees were going to buckle. Apparently Sentian did, too, for the man grabbed him under his arms.

"Take it away!" Sentian shouted, grunting as Conar's limp weight hung in his hands.

With his chin quivering, Conar felt a scream rising up within him. All sound was blocked out of his hearing; all sight, save for the grisly one that stared back at him, left his line of vision. The sky around him grew red, then dark, then a brilliant white glare, and he threw back his head and howled his anguish to the heavens and the merciless gods who dwelt there.

High on the crenellations, Liza lay unconscious in her brother's arms. At the exact moment Conar had beheld the sight of their dead child, she had slumped in Grice's arms.

Thom and Teal came running from the courtyard, closely followed by Hern Arbra and Chand Wynth. The men could see the struggle taking place in the dust of the roadway. Legion was trying desperately to take the babe from Conar, for the Prince's fingers were tangled in the fabric.

Teal was the first to reach them. "What's happened?" There was a catch in his voice. He knew already from the looks on their faces that the babe was dead.

"Help me take the child away, Teal!" Legion ground out. "He shouldn't be seeing this!"

Teal stepped forward, wresting the bundle from Conar's fierce grip as Hern and Sentian pulled away the Prince's hands, restrained his arms, kept him from coming at du Mer.

"Let go of me!" he shouted. "Let me have my daughter!"

Teal glanced at the bundle now resting in his own arms. He felt bile rising in his chest. "Oh, god!" he breathed, speaking without thinking. "Her throat's been cut!"

Hern jerked violently. He took Conar into his arms. The young man tried to pull free, but Hern gathered Conar to him and forced the head into the crook of his shoulder to blot out the sight.

"Take the babe inside, du Mer!" Hern shouted.

Teal started to back away, the tiny bundle held as far away from his body as he could get it. His face was filled with revulsion and he could feel hot, bitter fluid flooding his mouth.

Conar jerked his head from Hern's shoulders, took one look at Teal's face, at the way the man was holding his child, and his heart shattered into a million pieces. "For the love of Alel, du Mer! Don't take your hate for me out on my child!" Hard, wracking sobs shook his body and he slumped in Hern's grip. "Don't take it out on my baby!"

Hern looked at Sentian and nodded. They released Conar, who went to his knees in the dirt. He doubled over, his arms clutched around his middle. He sobbed, whimpering so heartbrokenly the others could only stand with bent heads and listen.

A cry went out from the guard tower. "The King has been attacked! He is sorely wounded!" Pointing a finger at Conar, the speaker shouted. " 'Twas his Elite that done it! Arrest him! He has bargained for the King's death!"

All around them, voices lifted in anger, in confusion. A cacophony of sound spun throughout the courtyard, over the drawbridge, drowning out Legion's call for quiet. A group of men, swords drawn, their faces filled with murderous intent, headed for Conar.

Conar pleaded with Legion. "I had no part in it," he sobbed. "I give you my word. I haven't…" His voice broke as he lifted his hands in supplication. "I haven't done anything."

The sight of the powerful warrior fallen to his knees, his face a mask of agony, his hands up in pleading, made some in the bailey question his guilt.

"Look at him, now! Does he look like he had a hand in this?" they cried, but the opposition voices were louder.

"Arrest him!" those loyal to the Tribunal shouted as they rushed headlong toward the Conar. "Don't let him get away!"

"Get up, Your Grace!" Thom warned, drawing his sword. "Get up, now!"

Conar came unsteadily to his feet, helped by Sentian's hands. He stood still, the news of his father's attack still ringing in his ears. The sight of his daughter lying in death clouded his vision of the men running toward him from the keep's outer bailey.

"Run, boy!" Hern whispered, his hand going to the dagger at his thigh. "Get away while you can!"

"No!" Legion shouted, fixing Hern with a fierce scowl. "If he does that…"

When the hard rumble of hoof beats echoed over the courtyard, Conar looked up, his face crinkled with confusion. He sucked in his breath, for a black streak of thundering horseflesh bolted toward him, careening past the running men, knocking some down, scattering the others. His warhorse, Seayearner, was racing toward him, riderless, without saddle or bridle. The massive forelegs dug deep into the planking of the drawbridge, the wood booming, silver sparks flying from 'Yearner's hooves as the steed flew at breakneck speed toward its master.

"
Go!
" Hern bellowed, pushing aside Legion.

Looking toward the men drawing near, Conar saw only one way out of his predicament. He cast one quick look at Sentian, who nodded, and then he sprinted away.

"Conar,
no
!" Legion yelled, trying to get past Hern and Sentian to stop his brother. "
Don't do this!"

Seayearner's hind legs locked. The beast skidded almost to a stop as it reached Conar. The horse's sides quivered, his black tail swished wildly in the breeze as it slowed. Conar grabbed a handful of its mane and swing himself on the steed's back. The horse reared high as Conar settled, then bolted forward, its hooves crashing on the ground with a mighty thud.

Conar heard the whistle of an arrow as it hit the ground behind him, felt another graze his left wrist. He kicked Seayearner into a faster gallop, and horse flew down the switchback road, leapt the auxiliary moat and disappeared around the bend leading into the high Serenian Mountains.

"Damn it," Legion hollered. "
Come back!"

"Do we follow him?" Thom asked, looking at Hern's smug face, not at all sure the Master-at-Arms had been right in sending the Prince fleeing. The Commander's next words echoed Thom's feelings exactly.

"Aye, we follow him, Loure!" Legion snarled. "And we find his ass before that angry mob does!" He turned his furious face to Hern Arbra. "What the hell were you thinking, man?"

"He isn't guilty of anything but a bad temper and a loud mouth!" Hern said, his thick chin raised. "If someone has attacked the King, it sure as hell wasn't done on the boy's orders and you damned well know it!"

"That's beside the point, Arbra!" Legion snapped. "His running away makes him look as guilty as sin!"

"Not to my way of thinking. Had he stayed, these bastards might well have skewered him!" Hern shot back as the men began arriving who had been running after Conar.

Legion threw up his hands. "You're a pigheaded fool, Arbra. I could have protected him."

"He'll hang," one of the new arrivals told Legion. "If the King dies, your brother will hang."

When Legion shot forward, taking exception to the man's words, Hern stepped between them. "Do you still think you could have protected him?" Hern quipped.

Storm Jale shouted from the barbican, his mouth cupped with his hands. "Legion!"

A'Lex looked up to Jale's strained face. "Aye?"

"He's alive, but unconscious. Lord Saur sent me to get you."

"Is he in with Papa?"

"Aye, along with a roomful of guards! The Healer is with him, too."

"I'll be right there." Legion gazed at Hern. "Find my brother, Arbra. Fetch him back before some fool puts an arrow in his back." Not giving the Master-at-Arms a chance to reply, he spun on his heels and hastened away, motioning for Sentian to follow.

Brelan was waiting at the stairs leading to the King's chambers. His worried face was tight with concern.

"How is he?" Legion asked.

"He's awake. He asked me to find Conar."

Legion glanced sideways at Brelan. "Do you think Papa believes Conar was responsible?"

Saur shrugged. "The men who attacked Papa wore black hoods over their faces, but they were wearing the tunics of Conar's Elite. There were six of them. Two stabbed him while the others stood watch. They left their ceremonial daggers behind. The daggers Conar gives his men on being accepted into the Elite."

"How seriously is he hurt?" Legion asked as he drew away from Brelan.

Annoyed that he could barely keep up with Legion's long stride down the corridor, Brelan hurried forward. He stepped in front of his brother, halting Legion's entry into their father's room. "Nothing vital was hit. Those bastards knew exactly where to stab. Don't you find that odd?"

"Tunics and daggers can be stolen, Saur," Legion growled. "Leaving behind the daggers, daggers such as those carried by an Elite, seems like planting evidence, don't you think?"

Brelan shook his head, his mind not on Legion's question, but on questions of his own. "When Papa awoke he looked for Conar. Called his name. Cayn told him to lie quietly, not to move. He tried to get up. He said he wanted Conar before it was too late. He was worried someone would put steel through Conar's gut before he had a chance to speak to him." Brelan looked hard at Legion. "His exact words were…find your brother, Brelan; find him before they make him pay for what I've done."

"So what does that tell you?" Legion snapped. "If Papa truly thought Conar was behind this, why did he send you to keep him safe?"

Brelan couldn't answer that. He watched in confused silence as Legion went in to their father. He leaned against the wall and asked himself the same question.

* * *

Hern swung into his saddle, his crossbow and quarrels in hand. He eyed the Tribunal Guards who were already streaking across the drawbridge. He looked to Ward Summerall and Lin Dixon, two of Conar's best Elite warriors. "Get your asses in those saddles!"

Lin glanced at the set, craggy face of the Master-at-Arms. "Do you think him guilty?"

"I do not! This is not the brat's way. If he had wanted his father dead, he would've done it himself. A man says a lot of things when he's hurt, and the brat was only lashing out at what had hurt him. He would never do such a thing as this." He turned his fierce glare to Lin. "Do
you
think he's guilty?"

Lin Dixon shook his head. "He wouldn't do this."

"You sure?"

Lin met the older man's gaze. "Aye, Sir Hern. I am sure."

"I turned my back on him, too," Roy Matheny said miserably.

"He'll understand and forgive you," Wesley Patrick said as he swung into his saddle.

Hern jerked on his horses reins. "No matter how many times the boy is hurt, he always forgives. That is his way. Conar, above any other man I know, understands hurt." He kicked his gelding hard in the ribs and the big black horse shot forward with a whinny of protest.

* * *

By the same time the next day, no one had been able to find Conar McGregor. The trail he had made up into the mountains had been lost by a streambed. There were hoof prints down one shallow bank and heavy indentations in the rock bed, but though they searched every inch of the stream's banks, no sign of where Conar exited could be found.

That evening, the King, once more unconscious and pale, lay in his bed with Legion and Brelan at his side. Brelan had not gone looking for Conar as his father requested. Instead, he had kept vigil along with Legion and both were tired and ill at ease with one another.

Legion frowned. Brelan was sitting with his hands tightly clasped between his knees, staring intently at their father's still face. His shirt was crusted with his niece's dried blood and his unshaven cheeks were dust-covered from his ride to Boreas.

"At least take a bath." Legion's nose quivered with Brelan's smell. "You need sleep, too."

"I'll sleep when Papa wakes up. If you don't like the way I smell, get the hell out of here!"

Legion met Brelan's hard stare. "What are you waiting for?"

"Nothing of any import!" Brelan practically shouted. "I have to know if he thinks Conar might have been responsible for this attack."

"And if he does?"

"I'll go after the bastard. There'll be no need to arrest him. I'll bring back his bloody corpse!"

Legion shook his head at his brother's stubbornness. "Even though you know damned well that isn't what Papa would want." He got up from his chair and stretched, then walked to the window and pushed aside the drapes. He caught sight of a milling throng of Temple Guards who had just ridden into the inner bailey. He looked over his shoulder. "Do you really think Conar is such a coward that he would have other men do his dirty work?"

"He's capable of anything."

"Is that your jealousy speaking?"

Brelan impaled Legion with a hot, angry look. "I'm not jealous of him!"

"We all are. Who do you think you're fooling?"

"I'm not jealous of him," Brelan mumbled.

Legion snorted and turned his attention back to the riders. "Why didn't you go after him?"

"I told you, I wanted to be near Papa—"

"Is that the only reason?"

"What other reason would I have had?"

Legion didn't need to turn around to know Brelan was glowering at him. He could feel the intent stare. "My guess is you don't want him found."

"I'm just giving the bastard the benefit of the doubt, else I'd be on his trail right now!"

"What I'm hearing from you is that you think Conar could very well be innocent."

"Those are your words," Brelan snapped.

"Aye, but they're your thoughts."

Brelan stood and hunched his shoulders as he dug his hands into the pockets of his breeches. "It must be nice to be so damned sure of what other people feel, A'Lex!"

Legion turned and smiled. "It's easy when the knowledge is blazing in their faces, Saur."

"One of us should check on Elizabeth." Brelan headed for the door.

"Be careful what you say to her."

Saur closed his father's door with more force than he had intended. He skipped down the short flight of stairs from the royal chambers to the second floor where Conar's room was located. He barely glanced at the guards flanking Liza's door, jumping as one of the men reached out a hand to stop him. He turned hostile eyes to the Elite who he thought was trying to bar his way.

"I am Ward Summerall, Lord Saur," the young man said. "I just wanted you to know that none of us has done this thing." He looked at the man standing guard beside him, who nodded. "Prince Conar would have never asked it of us nor would he have done it himself. There is not a man in this unit, including those arrested yesterday, who carries the burden of guilt."

Six men, all high-ranking members of Conar's guard, men whose daggers with their initials had been found in the King's chambers, had been dragged from their homes and questioned by the Tribunal's interrogators.

Screams of pain could be heard filtering up from the inquisition room that had not been used for nearly fifty years. Throughout the long night and into the next, the men had denied any part in the attack. When shown their daggers, each man had sworn on the lives of their families that he had never before used the ceremonial dagger. The black, rune-carved blades were not weapons of defense, but special insignias of honor, given to them on the day they were initiated into the Elite.

Brelan stared hard, his eyes boring into the young man's soul. "Then who's responsible?"

"Those who wish the Prince harm. He has many enemies, Lord Saur. I am told even you are numbered among them." His gaze didn't waver as Brelan sucked in a shocked breath.

"You think I had a hand in this?"

"No more so than the Prince."

Brelan shrugged. "You may be right."

"I
know
I am."

"I hope for Conar's sake you are."

"One other thing I know, Lord Saur. Whoever is responsible will pay dearly for having caused His Grace such pain."

Brelan inclined his head. Conar's men had always been loyal despite his moments of stupidity.

Grice glanced up as Brelan was admitted into the room. He nodded to his friend. Chand Wynth sat beside the fireplace, his ears intent on a scratching sound coming from the armoire. Getting up, he opened the door and poked among the dresses and shoes, a look of relief on his face when he found nothing inside the cabinet.

"What ails you, Chandling?" Brelan called.

"Sound like rats," he said, closing the door with a snap. "Better have someone check it out." He returned to his chair and his head jerked toward the armoire as the scratching sound came again.

Grice frowned. He'd never cared for rodents. His gaze swept the floor around the armoire, hoping against hope that nothing gray and bewhiskered came scuttling across the carpet. His arms tightened around his sister as Liza sat with her head on his shoulder, her hand clasped tightly in his.

She looked up as Brelan sat on the bed at her feet. "They won't let me see my baby, Bre," she protested in a flat, thin voice.

Brelan glanced at Grice. "You shouldn't just yet, Elizabeth."

"I want my baby," she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. "I want my husband."

Flinching, Brelan looked away from her tearful face and his gaze settled on Chand. "How about taking your brother out of here, Chandling, before something jumps out at him. I'll stay with your sister."