Wind Demon Triology: Book II: Evil Wind (15 page)

"Kamerone Cree!” the Prophetess-Mother spoke up. “You are our prisoner!"

The right side of the Reaper's mouth quirked upward but he made no comment to her unnecessary statement. Though he was in shackles, about to be thrown into a cage that—to him—still smelled of burning flesh, he gave no indication that he was the beaten man Cyle Acet had hoped to see.

"You will be remanded to yon cage and there you will spend the remainder of your days,” Acet snarled.

Cree's attention slid to the leader of the Multitude and held. The coldness in his eyes was so penetrating the temperature in the plaza seemed to drop a degree or two. His gaze crawled over the woman then he looked away, dismissing her.

Digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands, Acet wanted nothing more than to slap the arrogant look from the Reaper's face. She longed to hear him screaming in pain as he was tortured at the hands of the Council but that was not to be. She had to accept the fact that he had escaped the retribution that had been reserved for him. She reminded herself there was the matter of his bloodsons and the vile offspring of his loathsome kin awaiting execution.

Waiting until Sern and Tyrian had walked him down the steps of the ship and onto the plaza before she fell in behind, Acet was angered that women stepped aside for him, the crowd as silent as the tomb as they parted, spreading back in a wedge from the platform to the cage.

Cree felt the weight of the women's eyes upon him. Though they melted back as he drew close, they were staring openly at him—something he was not accustomed to from the women of Rysalia—and it made him nervous. Where before the rebellion women would hide from him behind locked doors, men would pretend they did not see him, he was the center of attention and he found the sensation uncomfortable. A niggling tingle had developed between his shoulders.

The door to the cage was standing open and as he walked toward it, he had an overpowering urge to break free of the women holding his arms and run. He could see the dark stain upon the concrete where men he knew had met their fiery deaths. That he would be forced to stay in that hellish place set his teeth on edge.

"We will refuel the ship as quickly and quietly as possible,” Kahmal had told him. “We will ready it for the return trip to Terra. Trust us to do as you have instructed."

Even one hour spent the cage would be a torment he knew he'd remember all his days. He had to believe everything would go according to the plans he and the Major had made. If not, he would go mad watching his bloodsons being incinerated before his eyes.

The posts where the evil would take place stood upon a platform and were lined up in a semicircle just beyond the cage to which he was being remanded. Heavy shackles hung down from each of the eleven steel uprights. From what Kahmal had told him of the three other such executions since the rebellion, the prisoners would be brought forth—their ankles shackled to the men in front and behind them—heavily sedated with neuroleptors that would keep them from struggling but which would enhance the pain they would feel when their bodies were set on fire.

"It was something developed by Hael Sejm,” Kahmal had explained to him. “It is called
céasadh.
In Chalean it means..."

"Agony,” Cree had translated. “By the gods that woman must have been Raphian's spawn instead of my grandsire's."

"Her being the seed of the Destroyer of Men's Souls wouldn't surprise me in the least,” Kahmal had responded. “She took great delight in hurting the men sent to her lab."

He had turned wounded eyes to her. “What men?"

Kahmal had not wanted to answer and when she did, he was sorry he'd asked though it was important he know the entire scope of Sejm's perfidy.

"They were very young Reaper cadets upon whom she tested her witch's brews. Many did not survive to make it to the posts."

The closer he got to the cage, the harder it was for Cree to maintain his composure. He did not like being confined—no Reaper did—even if the bars of the cage were open on all sides and top to the elements. He could no longer feel his hands and his arms were beginning to ache.

"The circulation has stopped in my arms, Kahmal,"
he sent telepathically to the Major. From the corner of his eye, he saw her slight nod.

They had reached the entrance to the cage and to Cree the stench of burnt flesh permeated the air. The ground surrounding the cage seemed to be coated with the ashes of the men he had known.

"Remove his fetters,” Kahmal commanded Sern.

"No!” the Prophetess-Mother shouted, pushing her way past Kahmal and Tyrian. Her eyes were blazing as she stood in front of Cree. “He is to be given no comforts!"

Kahmal had long suspected Cyle Acet was as crazy—if not more so—than Sejm. She started to protest but Cree spoke before she had the chance.

"Do you fear me that much, wench?” he asked in a tone that suggested he was amused. “Think you I would mind-fuck you if my hands were free? I assure you I wouldn't touch your filthy cunt with a ten foot pole."

The slap that slammed against the Reaper's cheek was delivered with a great deal of power—so much so he staggered beneath the blow. But the hit did not seem to faze Kamerone Cree for he simply smiled, his amber eyes twinkling, white teeth sparkling.

Sern and Tyrian exchanged a look. They feared not even the Act of Attribution would save Cree if he pushed the Prophetess-Mother too far.

"I will take great delight in watching you mourn the loss of your sons, Reaper,” Acet snarled. “I will have the executrix douse the fire consuming them many times before I will allow them to finally die. Their agony is on your head!"

A fatalistic shrug was the only sign Cree had heard her threat. He was staring into her eyes, certain of the insanity that was raging within her shriveled breast. Idly, he wondered what man had hurt her so deeply that she had lost all reason. When he slipped into her mind, he recoiled from the putrefaction roiling there. Delving deeper he found the name of the one who had betrayed her—Briton Keal. The name meant nothing to him but he suspected it had meant much to her. He made a mental note to ask Kahmal who the man had been.

The speculation in the Reaper's gaze unnerved Acet and she rightfully surmised he had invaded her thoughts. She backed away from him, her chest heaving. “There is to be no comfort for this man. He is a beast. Let him live like a beast!"

"So much for that soft pillow and downy mattress I was expecting. Don't I even get a blankie to keep me warm?” Cree inquired and the women who heard him laughed.

Acet's face turned livid with rage. She swung her angry glower amongst the women. “Do you dare encourage this sorry excuse for a humanoid?” she challenged them.

"Your Eminence,” LeJong Kym said as she appeared beside the Multitude's leader. “Please remember your blood pressure. This is not good for your heart."

Cree turned his head to look at the Chrystallusian woman for just a moment before directing his attention to the inside of the cage. He had known there would be no comforts for him inside his prison. The Council of Elders would make it as unpleasant for him as they could.

"Get him in that cage!” Acet shouted. “Let him know who his mistress is!"

Kahmal had hoped the Reaper would let that pass but he didn't. She cringed when he laughed at the Prophetess-Mother's remark.

"They'll all be mine before it is over and done with, bitch,” he said in a voice just low enough that only the Prophetess-Mother heard his words.

Shrieking like a banshee, Acet would have physically attacked him but Kahmal stepped between them, grabbing the flailing woman's arms and holding her as easily as if she were a child.

"Enough, Your Eminence! Remember your health!"

Acet jerked in that powerful grasp but she was not strong enough to break the Amazeen warrioress’ hold. She contented herself with screaming at the top of her lungs.

The women gathered in the plaza watched the spectacle of their leader being led away by Dr. Kym and several orderlies the Chrystallusian scientist had motioned over. Struggling in Kahmal's firm hold, the woman was bucking like a wild animal under restraint. Her curses were the only sound in the plazas and when she was led away by the orderlies—one powerful woman to each side—she continued to wail and thrash about.

"That woman is insane,” Cree said quietly.

"Aye,” Sern replied. “We've known that for some time now."

"Remove his shackles,” Kahmal said when she returned from leaving the Prophetess-Mother in LeJong Kym's very capable hands. “There is no need for him to be bound."

There were murmurs of agreement among the women in the plaza and when Cree's wrists were unbound, he surprised them all by calmly walking into the cage without being told. He turned just inside the door and swept his gaze over the assembled women. When he spoke, every ear turned to him.

"I have but one mistress and that is my lady-wife, Bridget. For her and for her alone would I give my life. Denying her to me is a torture you can not begin to comprehend. The pain she suffers at my loss is on your heads."

They watched as he went to the center of the confine then sat down, his knees raised and locked within the perimeter of his arms. He stared at the Titaness, the fortress where he knew his bloodsons were being held. He appeared not to notice when the cage door was locked behind him.

"He is not what we expected,” one of the women remarked to Kahmal. “He looks nothing like the Reapers who died in that cage."

"Aye, the young ones are easy on the eye but the Iceman's cousins were an ugly bunch,” another said, shivering.

"I had seen him before,” still another woman commented. “I have long thought him a very comely man though frightening to be near."

"He loves his lady,” another said.

"And she loved him,” someone else injected.

Kahmal sensed these women bore Cree no particular hatred and thought to gain their help. “He is suffering greatly for the loss of his lady, Bridget,” she whispered to them. “It would not surprise me if he lay down and willed himself to die for love of her."

The women gasped. “He cares that deeply for the Terran?"

"A Reaper?” another inquired.

"He risked all for her,” Kahmal reminded them. “He had power, authority, all he could want on FSK-14 yet he threw it all away to be with the woman he loved.” She lowered her voice. “And look at the treachery that was his reward. They gave his woman to his enemy."

"You forget your sister was on board the ship he destroyed when he took the life of that enemy,” the eldest of the women snapped.

Kahmal lifted her head. “He knew had he left my Sisters alive, they would have come after him. He could not risk his lady being hurt or killed. He apologized to me and has asked for my forgiveness for what he was forced to do."

Shocked, the women looked away from Kahmal to stare at the solitary man who sat so still in the cage. “A Reaper said such?"

"On my honor as an Amazeen warrioress, I pledge to you he did. You ask if I have forgotten my sister. No, I have not forgotten, but I have forgiven him for what he did."

Cree could hear the words being spoken as clearly as though he were standing beside Kahmal and the women. He was hard pressed not to smile for he knew damned well what his Amazeen was doing. That he now thought of her as belonging to him made him sigh. It seemed he was developing a pack of women supporters. Thoughts of a pack sent his mind into the ship. Lightly he touched the old weretiger's mind and asked if he was comfortable.

"I am to get meat,"
came back to him
. “And milk!"

” ‘Lia will take good care of you, my brother,"
Cree told the beast.

"I'll take care of you, too, Reaper,"
Cirolia Sern sent to him.

Shocked by the Amazeen's ability to speak mind to mind to him, Cree looked about him, searching for the woman but Sern was nowhere in sight. Frowning, he reminded himself once more to be careful of his thoughts around that one. If she were capable of intercepting his thoughts, there might well be others who could do the same.

LeJong Kym was not in a good mood by the time she had sedated the Prophetess-Mother. The woman's screeches and howls had given her a vicious headache. There was also the matter of the scratches down the small Chrystallusian woman's arm that stung from the raking Acet had given her. As Kym walked toward the chamber of the Council of Elders her mind was a seething nest of coiled vipers ready to strike out at any of the hierarchy of older women who thought they controlled Rysalia and its satellite moons. Barely glancing at the two Amazeen guards who stood to either side of the tall bronze doors that led into the Council Chamber, Kym's jaw was clenched tightly.

"I have business with the Elders,” Kym stated.

The Amazeen on the right quickly opened the door for the Auxiliary Prophetess, bowing respectfully as Kym swept past.

"Ah, LeJong,” the Grand Maitresse greeted her. “You have news for us of Her Eminence?"

Kym inclined her head. When Acet met her end—in whichever way her lifeline ceased to flow—Kym would be the Heir Apparent to her position. Already she had authority among the Elders for hers was a cooler head than Acet's.

"Her Eminence had to be sedated. She put great strain upon her heart this morn,” Kym reported. “She will sleep for most of the day and perhaps through the evening hours."

The Grand Maitresse shook her head. “Such behavior does not speak well for her longevity."

"Her behavior alienated many among the women,” the Législateur, the lawgiver spoke up. Among the nine Elderly women of the Council, she was the oldest—and presumably the wisest. “Her Eminence did not help her cause in the matter of Kamerone Cree."

"I was embarrassed for Her Eminence,” the Médicine, the newest member of the Elders spoke up. She had taken Hael Sejm's position on the Council.

Kym nodded. “As were many of us, Your Grace."

"So, his life is not to be taken,” the Grand Maitresse stated. “I cannot say I am pleased he will not pay for his crimes against us."

"And what crimes are those, Your Grace?” Kym inquired.