WindDeceiver (32 page)

Rylan smiled crookedly at his friend. “Fancy meeting you here, McGregor.”

He would have gone to Rylan, but the guards whose weapons were drawn stepped in front of him, blocking his way. He didn’t fear dying for he didn’t think these swords could kill him, but he really didn’t know for sure. From the expressions on the guards’ faces, he knew they hoped he at least try to get past them.

“Don’t give ‘em an excuse, Conar,” Rylan warned as he was shoved toward the pool.

“What are you going to do to him?” Conar demanded.

“Good

morning,

McGregor.”

Conar’s head whipped around and he saw Jaleel Jaborn entering the chamber. Behind him was his lap dog, Guil. The two men were flanked by four guards whose loaded crossbows bore quarrels too similar to Conar’s own to be anything else.

“Storm retrieved these for me a long time ago,” Jaleel quipped as he reached out to lovingly stroke one of the black crystal shafts.

Grinding his teeth in anger, Conar asked again what Jaborn intended to do with his friend.

“If I remember correctly,” Jaborn commented, “you were taught to swim by this man, weren’t you, McGregor?”

Rylan turned his head and stared at the pool, not missing the iron rings set in the concrete.

He looked at _

Conar. He could see worry clouding his friend’s eyes just as he knew fear was clouding his own.

“Let him go, Jaborn,” he heard Conar ask. “You have me; you don’t need my friends.”

Jaleel Jaborn grinned nastily. “Neither do you.” He motioned to the men holding Rylan.

Conar’s heart bumped frantically in his chest and he stepped forward, afraid for Hesar.

“What do you want me to do, Jaborn?” he asked. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it if you’ll let him go.”

“Don’t beg him, Conar!” Rylan spat as the two guards who had brought Conar to the chamber stepped up to take hold him while the two who had brought Rylan in jumped down into the pool. He tried to twist away from the ones holding him as they picked him up between them and swung him into the water.

Conar shouted with fury as Rylan sank beneath the pool’s surface. His friend’s wrists were heavily manacled, as his own had been, and the weight of the iron dragged him down toward the pool’s bottom.

“Calm yourself, McGregor,” Jaleel laughed. “They’ll get him up.”

Rylan was jerked up by the two guards in the water and brought to the surface, flinging wet hair out of his angry eyes. He cursed at the guards who levered him up out of the water and slammed him down on the slab. He struggled, but they soon had his wrists and ankles secured firmly to the four iron rings.

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“This is a most ingenious device,” Jaleel said, walking over to the pool and looking down at Hesar. “My great-great grandfather devised it, himself.”

“Tell me what you want, Jaborn,” Conar grated out. “Whatever it is--“

“Don’t give the bastard the satisfaction, Conar!” Rylan shouted. “If I’ve got to die, I don’t want it to be hearing you grovel before shit like him!”

“You’re not going to die!” Conar shouted back. He lunged at the guards who held swords on him and tried to get to Jaborn, but fell as he was pushed from behind. He hit the floor hard, stunned, and felt himself being dragged to his feet.

“As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted,” Jaborn continued, “this form of execution was devised to test a man’s bravery, his strength, and his determination.”

Conar bucked against the men holding him, but he was no match for their brute strength.

They easily subdued him, leaving him snarling with frustration and fury.

“You see,” Jaleel explained, “the platform in the center of the pool is attached to a counter balance weight. The weight is controlled by a lever in the room beyond.” He indicated the wall to his right. “Once the lever is unhooked from its latch, the platform begins to descend through the water. The time it takes for the platform to reach the bottom of the pool varies with the weight of the man strapped down to it. It can take anywhere from five minutes to an hour.”

Conar understood what the bastard was going to do and he screamed in outrage. “You can’t do this!”

“Oh, but I can, McGregor,” Jaleel said reasonably. “As your friend is lowered into the water, you have, oh, I’d say fifteen to twenty minutes from the looks of him, to figure out how to unlock those bands around his wrists.”

“They can be unlocked,” Guil giggled. “I’ve seen it done only once, but it can be done.”

“If you don’t succeed,” Jaleel warned him, “the platform will go all the way to the bottom with your friend in tow.”

Rylan slowly closed his eyes and began to mutter the Prayer of Forgiveness.

Conar was panting for breath, his fear making the pulse in his neck throb so hard it was visible to the men holding him. He bucked, letting his full weight slump in their grasp, but they lifted him up, keeping tight control on his arms.

“Now, McGregor,” Jaleel told him, “if you can unlock his manacles before he drowns, I swear to you I will set him free. He’ll be taken outside these walls and allowed to go on his way.

If you don’t--“ He spread his hands. “Like I said, you don’t need friends when you have me!”

“You son-of-a-bitch!” Conar yelled at him. He struggled with his captors, seething with rage as Jaleel and Guil headed for the door. “Your fight is with me; not him. You want to kill someone, kill me!”

“I can’t do that, McGregor,” Jaleel assured him “I want you to live, especially so if you aren’t able to unlock Hesar’s manacles. I want you to live knowing you couldn’t save your friend’s life and was the cause of him dying in the first place!”

“Shut up!” Rylan screamed. “Shut the fuck up, you sniveling pog! He’s not to blame for anything!”

“If he doesn’t save you, Hesar,” Jaleel reasoned, “he will have been the cause of your death.

Why do you think I brought you and the other’s here?”

Rylan cursed him, laying all the revenge of hundreds of years of Viragonian warriors at Jaborn’s doorstep. The Hasdu laughter only added more fuel to his rage and he leveled one more epithet at Jaleel Jaborn.

“He’ll avenge me, nomad! Conar will avenge me!”

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Jaleel chortled with hilarity as he ushered Guil ahead of him from the room. He ignored Conar’s own shouts of anger and called all but the two guards holding his enemy from the room.

Rylan spat at the two men who climbed up out of the pool and left him chained to the slab.

“May your cocks fall off you sons-of-whoring bitches!”

“They have no tongues or cocks,” one of the men holding Conar laughed. “They are eunuchs!”

“Larn! Fedor! Come!” someone outside the chamber called and the two men shoved Conar away from them and laughed as he crashed heavily to the stone floor.

As the door slammed shut and the lock was thrown into place, Rylan lifted his head and watched Conar sit up.

“A fine mess I’ve got me into, huh, McGregor?” he quipped.

“Shut up, Hesar,” Conar groused as he crawled over to the pool and dropped down into the water. He sucked in his breath with the coldness.

“It’ll damned sure draw your balls up in your ass, won’t it?” Rylan joked.

“How are the others?” Conar asked as he waded over to Rylan and looked down at the band holding his left wrist.

“I don’t know about the others, but Brell was complaining to the heavens when I was so rudely awakened this morning.”

Conar pulled on the band.

“How’s it look?” Rylan asked, craning his head up to have a look for himself at the bands.

“I don’t--“ Conar started to say when the platform shifted, jerking an inch downward.

Rylan lowered his head and stared up at the chandelier. “Can you do it?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Conar felt like crying. He would try, he knew he would try; he knew he had to, but he also knew it would be nigh impossible to find a way to unlock the bands holding his friend to the concrete slab. He waded around to the other side.

The platform shifted downward again, lowering six inches in one plunge.

“If it’s all the same to you, McGregor,” Rylan told him in a breathless quiver, “I’d like to get up now.”

“Hush, Rylan,” Conar asked him. He fumbled with the lock and felt something give.

The platform dropped another six inches.

“That’s a pretty lady you have,” Rylan said and could hear the fear in his own voice.

“Sweet-tempered, too.”

Conar glanced at his friend’s sweating face. “Cat? Sweet-tempered?” He looked back down at the lock and twisted it. Something moved and the pin holding the manacle in place slid out half an inch. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same woman, Hesar?”

The platform shifted another six inches into the water.

“Pretty little thing,” Rylan answered, his breath coming in quick little pants of fear. “Big hazel eyes and light brown hair?”

The manacle lock’s pin slid another half inch out of the lock. Conar felt the band give way and nearly whooped with relief as Rylan pulled his hand free.

The platform slipped another six inches and water began to flood over the slab, wetting Rylan’s backside.

“Ah, McGregor,” he said, nervously. “I’d take it as a personal favor if you’d hurry!” He twisted until he was half out of the water, bracing himself with his right hand.

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Conar waded back around to his left side and took hold of the lock. He pinched the pin between his thumb and index finger and began to jiggle it as he had found he had to do to get the thing loose.

The platform seemed to drop out from under Rylan Hesar and the water lapped up his legs and waist to pool at his chest. He turned frightened eyes to Conar who had stilled, his own sapphire eyes wide with sudden alarm as he looked up at Rylan.

“Hurry,” Rylan whispered. “Conar, hurry.”

The Outlander could hear the trembling plea in his friend’s voice. Fear was already turning his normally ruddy face pale. Rylan’s pants were becoming painful to hear and there was a shudder in his chest every time he drew in a breath. Conar bent over the edge of the slab and plucked at the pin. He lost his tenuous grip on the pin and as he did, the platform lowered again.

“Conar!” Rylan gasped, the water up to his neck. He strained to push himself up as far as the restraint on his left wrist would allow.

“Be still, Rylan,” Conar begged. He almost had the pin out of the lock. He dug his fingernails into the metal and jerked. The band slipped open.

Rylan yanked his hand free, whimpering with relief. He pushed himself up, sitting and scrambling for the band which held his right leg to the slab, but unable to reach it. He watched Conar take in a deep breath and lower himself in the water.

The platform shifted.

“Conar!” Rylan screamed for with the platform’s descent, the water was just under his chin.

It lapped at his lips and he spat, bringing his hands up to wipe at his face.

He could see the pin. It was wedged deeper in the ankle band than either of the two pins in the wrist bands. He plucked at it with his nails and kept losing it. His air was running out, his lungs aching, but he tried twice more before shooting to the surface and gasping a mouthful of air.

Rylan had seen the look of desperation on Conar’s face when he had popped up out of the water. For just an instant, their gazes had met before Conar dropped back into the water. There had been no hope in that wild look. No hope at all.

The platform jerked, bringing the water up over Rylan’s lips. He moaned with fear, striving to stretch his neck in order to rid himself of the water. He sucked in deep drafts of air through his nostrils, wondering with each intake if it would be his last.

The pin wiggled and Conar strained harder to pull it partially out of the lock before he had to go up for more air. His lungs were hurting, his head throbbing for lack of oxygen, but still he stayed beneath the water, trying to make the pin slide out.

The platform lowered another fraction of an inch and the water lapped up Rylan’s nostrils.

“Oh, god!” Rylan cried out. “Please!”

Hesar knew he was going to die. He could feel it. Even as Conar lunged to the surface and gulped in enough air to sustain him for a few minutes, Rylan Hesar knew it was futile. He knew it because Conar had deliberately not looked at him. He knew it because with every breath he took now, a fine mist of water entered his nose. He knew it because this was to be part of a horrible punishment meant to destroy Conar McGregor.

“I’m sorry, Conar,” Rylan sobbed, tears dripping down his cheeks to ease into the water.

The pin came half-way out of the lock and Conar clenched his jaw, willing himself to stay beneath the water. He felt the platform shift and looked up quickly, still seeing only Rylan’s chin beneath the surface. He lowered his head, plucking at the pin feverishly.

The platform lowered two feet all at once and Rylan Hesar was submerged beneath the lapping waves.

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“No!” Conar thought he heard. He let go of the pin and pushed away from the bottom, shooting around Rylan’s back. He got beneath his friend and levered him, pushing him upward and shot up beside his head, relief washing over him as he saw Rylan gasping for air.

“It’s--no--good--“ Rylan told him.

“Breathe!” Conar told him. “Just breathe.”

“Conar--“ Rylan cried.

“Just breathe, Rylan!” Conar screamed. He sucked in a great breath and let go of Hesar, kicked out, and dove down to his friend’s left leg where he picked at the pin, wiggling it.

Rylan fell back into the water, holding the deep breath he had taken. He could feel Conar yanking at his left leg and wondered why the man just didn’t give up. There was no way to free him and it was only a matter of moment’s before he drowned. Conar with him if his friend didn’t soon stop.