PRINCE OF THE WIND (15 page)

"True. But not evil ones at least."

"Argghh!" Christine exclaimed, furious with herself and worried sick about her child to make sense of her own virulent thoughts. She stalked down the corridor, Mariah close behind.

Just inside the women’s quarters of the palace lay the Temple of the Oracle, a place where the Daughters of the Multitude gathered to worship. There in the mist-shrouded sanctuary, a Daughter could make entreaty for day to day things of which she had a need. Though a trip to the Shadowlands was required for serious matters, the Temple of the Oracle was a safe, welcoming place for times when peace and solitude were needed.

Slipping to their knees before the statue of the goddess Aluvial, Christine and Mariah bowed their heads and prayed for the safety and health of their menfolk. Christine made an extra request that the seed of the seed of her husband not be corrupted by the encroaching power of the Windweaver who would birth him.

"I was foolish," Christine prayed, "and did not listen to the Oracle’s warning. Now, my son has paid the price for my stubbornness."

"All things come as they should, Daughter," the Oracle reminded her.

The voice in the Christine’s head was not condemning or angry, but neither did it hold warmth.

"Forgive me," Christine whispered and wiped tears from her eyes.

"Forgive yourself first, then I shall forgive you."

"What can I do, Great One?" she sobbed. "How can I help my child?"

"Do not interfere with what the gods have decreed. They know what is best for Riain."

"But the witch is making him suffer! She sent a demon after his mortal soul! She—"

"Will be dealt with in time. But in interfering with the schemes of the gods, you have made matters much worse for your son. Raphian will strive all the harder to take Riain’s soul. Keep your own counsel and remain neutral. Let the boy deal with the demons on his own. He will be the better man for it when all is said and done."

"Is there nothing at all I can do?"

"There is nothing anyone can do to save Riain Cree. Because you dared to interfere, because you took matters into your own hands when the Oracle bid you wait, his life is forfeit to the witch."

"No!" Christine covered her face with her hands.

"And because you dared go to our enemy, the Windweaver, not only your child will suffer, but the child of your friend will pay the ultimate price for your arrogance. Miyoshi Shimota will die."

Christine screamed and collapsed.

* * *

Riain woke to the sound of the wind skirling like a mad piper. There were no windows in the room, but the violence of the storm reached his ears. He lay still, feeling the ache in his collarbone, and hesitated to shift position. But his bladder throbbed with the need for relief. Cautiously, he turned his head and looked toward the door.

An aged monk sat dozing in a chair, his sandal-clad feet crossed at the ankle. His fingers were threaded together over his more than ample belly. The monk’s baldpate gleamed in the reflection of a candle on the table beside him.

Riain was reluctant to wake the man, but was acutely uncomfortable in his need to relieve himself. He tried to call out, but found his voice rusty with disuse. He tried again, cleaning his throat beforehand.

"Brother?" he croaked and winced at the sound of his voice. "Brother?"

The monk let out a ragged snore, then drew in a short, sucking breath before lifting his head. He rubbed at his eyes, yawned, and smacked his lips as though he’d just finished a tasty meal. When he found Riain’s attention on him, he smiled broadly.

"Ah, you are awake, young one!" The monk got awkwardly to his feet. His ponderous bulk made it difficult for him to stand, but he accomplished the task without too much panting and gasping. He waddled to the bed. "How do you feel?"

"I have to pee," Riain explained, embarrassed.

The monk chortled. "Such is life, eh?" He threw back the covers. "Can you stand, do you think?"

Riain doubted he could and said as much.

"Not to worry." With much grunting, wheezing, and the occasional moan, the monk squatted beside the bed and extracted a chamberpot.

Feeling heat in his face, Riain allowed the monk to help him. Unable to look at the rotund man, he kept his gaze locked on the far wall, where a trio of fat candles gleamed.

"How long have I been here?"

"More than a week now, young one."

"The storm," Riain said, listening to the timbers creaking. "How much damage has it done?"

"We are experiencing our…rainy season a bit earlier than usual. Not—"

"How much damage?" Riain repeated. He shifted his gaze to the monk’s somber eyes and held it there. He suspected the demon had taken Its frustrations out on the people of Chrystallus and this man had probably been warned not to say too much too soon.

The monk looked at the floor and said nothing.

"That bad?" Riain whispered. When the monk nodded, Riain closed his eyes. "How many hurt?"

"Thousands, young one."

"Dead?"

"Several hundred."

Riain flinched. Tears filled his eyes. "Because of me."

"Because of a mad woman’s obsession," a voice spoke from the doorway.

The rotund monk turned and bowed his head respectfully to the man who entered the room. "Your Worship."

"You may leave us, Hirosha," the newcomer said.

Hirosha turned to Riain, bowed his head again, then walked backward from the room. He closed the door quietly behind his departure.

"I am Atramentous," the man said as he came to Riain’s bedside. "I was a priest of the Domination until recently."

Riain blinked. "The Brotherhood of the Domination?" he asked with a gasp. The mere mention of the evil sect of sorcerers made the hair rise on Riain’s arms. "You are a magik-sayer?"

Atramentous graciously inclined his head. "Precisely." He drew up a chair and sat. His rigid posture left no doubt that the man was in total control of himself at all times.

Riain’s heart began to thud. Before him was a member of the most vile sect of sorcerers the world had ever known. Dedicated to the principle of completely controlling humankind, the men of the Brotherhood let nothing get in the way of achieving their goals. Murder, brutal rape, human sacrifice were only a touch of the perverted evil rumored to be used in their ceremonies.

And they were allied with Raphian, the Destroyer of Men’s Souls, the Bringer of Storms.

"Aye, but you have nothing to fear from me, Your Grace," Atramentous explained. "The Brotherhood cast me out."

Riain shuddered. If a sect of magi as perverted as the Brotherhood of the Domination had cast out one of their own, surely the man was an evil beyond knowing.

"Or a good they could not control?" Atramentous questioned.

A frown creased Riain’s forehead. "Why are you here?" he asked, not trusting the cadaver-thin face looking back at him.

"To help you, Your Grace." The priest smiled. "Why else?"

"To send me to Raphian?"

Atramentous’ smile widened, then he held up his hands, palms toward Riain. "What do you see?"

There was twin scars wavering across the priest’s palms. The blistered, puckered skin looked raw and painful.

"It is the brand of negation," Atramentous informed Riain. He looked at the scarred flesh and traced the raised tissue in the center of his left palm with the forefinger of his right hand. "A seal against the magik I could wield. A talisman to ward off any retaliation I might aim toward the Brotherhood."

"What did you do?"

Atramentous shrugged. "I disagreed with their dogma and went against their Arch-Prelate. That is something no man does and not be punished severely for it." He sighed deeply. "Had I not been a…" He looked up. "…a
friend
of the Arch-prelate, I would have paid for my disobedience with my life."

Riain’s face burned hot, and he had to look away from the telling look on Atramentous’ face. "Oh," was all he could say and felt queasy at knowing what manner of man he was dealing with. The Domination were perverted in their sexual preferences and Riain found their lifestyle distasteful.

"You need not worry," Atramentous said quietly. "You are not my type."

Riain winced, but said nothing.

"So," Atramentous stated, slapping his palms on his robed knees. "What shall we do about the witch?"

"Which one?"

"One does not matter—Rhiannon is a minor nuisance, rapist that she is. Her perfidy can easily be controlled. It is the other of whom I speak."

"Suzanna," Riain said, the word a curse on his lips. "What can I do? I’ve been told the Daughters are—"

"The Daughters are a flea on a hound’s ruff!" Atramentous said with a dismissive wave of his thin hand. "Their puny magik will get them into many disasters over the coming millennia!"

Riain smiled, despite his wariness. "Are you saying their magik is of little use?"

"I am saying their magik is not as strong as mine," Atramentous snapped.

Riain looked at the man’s hands. "But you said a seal was placed—"

"A seal I found a way to break." Atramentous grinned.

A ray of hope struck through Riain’s soul. "Is there something you can do to protect me against Suzanna de Viennes?"

Atramentous folded his arms over his chest. "Aye, but you might not like the notion of it."

"Can you get her off my tail?"

"Unfortunately not."

"Lessen her evil over me?"

"To some extent, aye."

Despite the potential pain in his broken collarbone, Riain pushed himself up. He winced at the sharpness, but was too concerned with the priest’s answer to his next question to be bothered.

"Can you give me a way to fight back?"

"Oh, aye, I can most certainly do that!"

Riain drew in a breath. "How?"

Atramentous leaned forward. "What if I were to tell you I could guarantee you would never have to worry about being forced to Suzanna de Viennes’ bed again?" He came closer, and as he did, his voice lowered to a seductive whisper. "What if I could give you a way to escape her time and again when she caught up with you?"

That wasn’t what Riain wanted to hear. He did not want to know she would continue to hound him. He wanted a way to keep her at bay.

"She cursed you, Riain Cree," Atramentous said, "and sealed the bargain with Raphian, Himself. You will forever be at her mercy."

"Then I might as well kill myself and be done with it! Rather than have that bitch lay hands to me again, I would rather lie moldering in my grave!"

" ’Tis true the only way to escape her is to die," Atramentous agreed, rubbing his chin, "but even then she will follow you into the Abyss."

"What?" Riain gasped, horrified. "There is no way to elude her?"

"No way to elude her, but a most effective way of keeping her from forcing you to her bed."

Hopelessness washed over Riain. He put his hands over his face. "What use is there to any of this?"

"What if I were to tell you that one day you would be with the woman you love?" Atramentous asked slyly.

Riain lifted his head and stared at the sorcerer. "Maeve?"

"You love her, do you not?"

"From the moment I sensed her at Vent du Nord."

"Very good. Then you would like to spend your eternity with her?"

"There is a way?" Riain asked, hope flashing once more in his soul.

Atramentous pulled a vial from inside his robe. "This is tenerse. Know you of it?"

Riain shrunk back from the vile stuff. "Only too well!"

"Ah, but do you know all it can do?"

"No, and I have no desire to know!"

Atramentous snaked out a hand to grab Riain’s arm. "Even should it be the means of one day ridding you of Suzanna de Viennes?"

Riain looked at the vial and shivered. "That stuff can kill!"

"Aye, but if you’d rather be dead anyway, what difference does it make?"

Tucking his lower lip between his teeth, Riain stared at the vial for a long while, then lifted his gaze to the priest. "How can it help me fight Suzanna?"

Atramentous grinned. "Mixed with a special substance, it can make you into that which she can not control nor bend to her bidding."

"And what is that?"

The priest’s grip on Riain’s arm tightened. "A Nightwind, my prince."

"What is a Nightwind?" Riain asked.

"In ancient times," Atramentous explained, "a chieftain of one of the WindRealm tribes greatly angered the tribe’s High Priestess. The man’s name is of little matter, but the priestess’ name was Uxumia Dul. She was a mighty magik-sayer with powers so vast, so limitless, those who knew her feared her. In a moment of mindless grief, the chieftain had slain Uxumia’s first-born daughter, and in the doing had garnered a punishment so exacting, not even the gods, Themselves, could interfere. ‘Take him!’ Uxumia had commanded the beast of the Abyss. ‘And confine him to the loathsome pit beneath the Abyss!’"

"Raphian," Riain stated.

"Aye. The beast of the Abyss is the Destroyer of Men’s Souls."

"I have seen him."

"As have I, young one. It is a sight most horrific."

"And this luckless warrior was cast into the Abyss with that foul beast?"

Atramentous nodded. "Well might you imagine the despair with which the chieftain looked upon himself when he was brought forth from the Abyss many centuries later and bore the look of Raphian on his own countenance."

"The gods be merciful to him," Riain said with a shudder.

The sorcerer shrugged. "I doubt me they have or ever will, for when he was thrown into the Abyss, he cursed all womankind for the evil done to him by Uxumia and her kin. The Ladies of the gods took umbrage at his disrespect and will never lift a hand to ease his torment."

"So he is lost."

"Aye, but not finished."

"He had his revenge?"

The sorcerer’s face turned hard. "In a matter of speaking, but it was not a sweet taste of revenge he found in his mouth."

"What did he do?"

"The Abyss is a stinking mire of all-encompassing darkness. There oozes the foulest deeds of mankind, and punishments are without end. The chieftain wished to escape the lightless cavern beneath the bowels of the Earth so he made entreaty to the One served by those whom he had offended. And that One heard and came. In order to live in the light again, the warrior made a foolhardy bargain with Raphian."