WindSeeker (27 page)

full control of his mind.

"Sleep, Beloved," Kaileel whispered, putting a trembling hand on Conar’s dirty blond hair, stroking his

head. "Sleep, and when you wake, the wrist will be healed." He placed a soft kiss on Conar’s brow. "I

love you." His thin lips touched Conar’s, gently, then looked into the prince’s sleeping face. "And you will

come to love me."

Chapter 14

"If you’re going to ride with us, brat," Hern snapped, his voice tight with pique, "you’d damned well

better learn to curb that quick temper!" He jerked on his horse’s reins and sent the beast into a light trot.

He glanced over his shoulder at Sentian. "It can damned well get a man killed!"

The four men were on the curving trail that led into the mountains. The pathway was only wide enough

for one horse at a time and the sheer drop down the incline was dizzying to behold in the pale gleam of

moonlight peeking from behind high clouds.

Belvoir was in the lead, his black stallion almost invisible as it moved steadily upwards. Next came

Galen, nursing a throbbing, swollen jaw, his face burning with humiliation and anger. His hands were

crossed in front of him and he was tethered to a long leash held by Belvoir. A rough kerchief had been

wedged tightly between his teeth, putting a tremendous strain on his jaws. Hern rode behind the prince

with Sentian bringing up the rear.

Upon raiding the stables of the Temple of the Winds, Hern and Belvoir had come back with two huge

black destriers for Sentian and Galen. Refusing to leave his own horse at the Temple, Sentian had been

allowed to bring the steed with them as far as the crossroads and then turned it loose on the road back to

Boreas. "I have trained him since he was a pony." He pouted, watching his horse canter off.

"Live with it," Belvoir snapped. He eyed Sentian’s big black and grinned. "That’s a better steed for a

Sentinel."

"Aye," Hern agreed. He looked at the black tunic and breeches Sentian wore. "You just might make the

lady proud of you, yet."

Galen followed their conversation with avid interest, although he had no idea what a sentinel was. He

did, however, suspect it had something to do with Liza. They had forced him into a set of black clothing

they had brought along for their informant, and he felt a part of their group, even if they treated him like

the outsider he was.

Not a single sheen of metal could be seen to catch the moon’s light on harness or bit or spur. The

daggers strapped to the three warrior’s thighs were black crystal and ebony ironwood. The crossbow

slung over Belvoir’s saddle was made of the same materials. Reins, bits and bridles, pommels, stirrups

and cinches, had been either painted black or wrapped tightly with black material to keep the clink of

metal from sounding as they rode. Even the horses’ hoofs had been wrapped with black burlap to muffle

the echo of hoof beats on the rocky mountain road.

They rode for nearly an hour at a steady, easy pace, moving ever upward into the frigid air of the

Serenian Alps. Mount Serenia rose like a beacon before them, its snow-covered zenith and sides shining

brightly in the moon’s bright beams. A cold breeze shifted over them, but the three able to speak made

no comment, afraid even the slightest whisper would echo on the winding path and alert the Abbey of

their arrival.

Just before three A.M., Belvoir brought his horse to a gentle stop. He held up his hand in warning. He

had sighted the flare of torchlight around the next turning.

Hern slid silently from his horse and patted the sleek nose, cautioning the animal. He jerked his chin at

Sentian, and saw the lad dismount with equal caution.

"What now?" Hern asked Belvoir, his voice as soft as the night breeze, as he walked to Belvoir’s side.

Belvoir nodded to where Galen sat his horse. "Do you trust him?"

"Do you?"

The two men turned in unison as Sentian joined them. Neither had heard his approach. They looked at

one another and smiled.

Hern grinned. "He’s learning."

"Get him down, brat," Belvoir quipped to Sentian, nudging his square chin toward Galen.

Sentian smiled."You trust me to touch the bastard?"

"Aye, I trust you."

Galen felt the sharp tip of a dagger at his jugular as Sentian pulled him from his horse.

"Make one sound, one false move, give me reason to think you pose a threat to His Grace, and it will be

your last. Understand?" Sentian pressed the tip into Galen’s flesh; a thin trickle of blood oozed down the

prince’s neck.

Galen swallowed and nodded only a fraction for fear the dagger would sever his throat. He let out a

hard breath through his nose as Sentian took away the weapon. He heard Belvoir instruct the young Elite

to remove the gag. With the constriction gone, Galen moved his aching jaw in a circle and glared his

defiance at Sentian. "You’ll regret the way you’ve treated me, serf. You’ll end your days in the

Labyrinth!"

Sentian took a step closer to Galen. "You’re mine, McGregor." His dagger was a blur as it slipped

through the hemp binding Galen’s wrists.

Hern winked at Belvoir. Here was, indeed, one of their own. Neither of them had to worry about this

brat. The lady’s sentinel had been wisely chosen.

"Where to from here?" Sentian demanded.

"There is a passageway into the Abbey that only a few men know about," Galen said, ignoring Sentian’s

glower. "I can show you the way. Even the horses can be hidden inside."

"How do you know of it?" Belvoir questioned.

"Kaileel showed me. He comes here on occasion to inspect the Abbey and doesn’t want Tolkan to

know he’s here."

"Why?" Hern snapped. "I thought they was as close as shit in a constipated man’s bowels."

"Kaileel hates Tolkan. I don’t know why, but I think it has something to do with Conar."

"Then lead us in," Belvoir decided, "but if you’re playing a game, McGregor, you will spend eternity in

the fires of hell."

Galen nodded. He had no intention of playing these men false. They were his only hope at getting Conar

out of the place. He walked a few feet down the pathway and stopped, running his hand over an

indention in the rockface of the mountain. He shoved against the stone and a low, grating sound broke

the silence as the rockface moved in on itself, revealing a wide passageway large enough to

accommodate the steeds one at a time. Belvoir peered inside the gaping doorway. The place was as

black as the grave.

"There’s a flint and bundle of rushes just to the right of the doorway, shoulder height." Galen eased

through. He plucked something from the wall as he entered, and the flare of flint to flint and the swish of a

fire being ignited let the men know he had told the truth.

Sentian led both his and Hern’s stallions into the large opening and was surprised at the cavern’s size. It

could house ten such horses. He looked about, spying several dark corridors.

"All but one of these is a dead end," Galen explained as Hern hurried forward and looked into one long

tunnel. "Most have drop-offs that will kill you if you don’t know they’re there."

"Which one is the right one?" Belvoir asked, lighting another two torches to thoroughly illuminate the

cavern. He didn’t care much for dark places.

"I’ll lead you in," Galen told him.

"No," Hern snarled. "I’ll lead with you at my side." He drew a length of hemp from his belt and retied the

prince’s hands, then looped the belt around his own waist. "If I fall, so will you!"

Hern moved into the tunnel at which Galen pointed. He placed his back to the wall, sliding forward

cautiously, drawing Galen with him. Belvoir brought up the rear. Sentian moved in close to Galen with his

dagger drawn and within striking range of Galen’s back.

"I promise," he told the prince as they slipped down the dark tunnel, "I will kill you if anything has

happened to His Grace. Count on that."

"Leave off," Hern hissed. He glanced at Sentian’s hard face. "If anything has happened to my boy, I’ll be

the one to take out this little shit. That’s my right!"

Galen glared at Sentian. "I don’t give a damn whether you believe me or not, serf, but I don’t want

anything to happen to Conar, either."

Sentian put his face up close to Galen’s. "You took his woman. You are the reason he is in this vile

place. Did you think that would make him feel good?"

"I don’t have to answer to a village gruel! My reasons for what I do are my own!"

"Hush!" Hern cautioned, coming to a stop and pushing Galen out of the way to grab a handful of

Sentian’s tunic. "I told you to leave off, Heil! We’ve got work to do. There’ll be time enough to test your

manhood when we have His Grace out of here!" He shoved Sentian away and then jerked on Galen’s

tether. "Keep your mouth shut, too! This is not a pissing contest!" He jerked again on Galen’s tether just

for the hell of it, then eased down the corridor.

Sentian felt Belvoir’s hand on his shoulder. He turned hostile eyes to the older man.

"Easy, brat. It might be best if you remember one of the greatest teachings of the WindWarrior Society.

There is a fine line between love and hate, and oftentimes they are one and the same." He jerked his chin

toward Galen’s retreating back. "He’s a scheming bastard. But right now, he’s our only hope. Watch

yourself and watch that big mouth of yours. If ’tis you who causes our Overlord to come to harm, I’ll gut

you. Do I make myself clear, Sentian Heil?"

Sentian nodded. "But I will settle it with him when we get back to Boreas Keep."

Belvoir shook his head. "We’re going to leave his ass here."

Sentian’s brows shot up. "I thought you told him you would send him to…"

A dry, mirthless chuckle issued from Belvoir’s thin lips. "Even if I knew how to get to World’s End, I

wouldn’t take him. I told him the lady would see he got his due, and she will. Galen McGregor has much

for which to atone. And he’ll atone for it right here…where it started!"

* * *

"Your Grace?" Belvoir called softly, his hand gently shaking Conar’s shoulder. He shook the prince

again and was rewarded with a slight groan.

"They’ve got him drugged," Hern spat and eased around in the small, oval cell so that he could help

Belvoir bring the man to a sitting position. From the lantern light Heil was holding overhead as he sat on

the grating’s edge, Hern saw the bruises and cuts on his young protégé’s face and drew in a lethal breath

of fury. "Sons-of-bitches! Look what they’ve done to him!"

"That’s nothing compared to what they will do if we don’t get him out of here!" Galen hissed from his

position halfway down the rope ladder. "You’ll have to carry him up, Belvoir. He’ll never wake in time to

climb this ladder himself."

"Don’t be telling them their business!" Sentian snarled and struck Galen on the shoulder with his booted

foot.

"You want to be caught?" Galen shot back as he turned furious eyes to the servant who had kicked him.

"They’ll be coming for him by dawn’s light. He has to be prepared for tonight."

"Your Grace!" Hern said, propping Conar against him and lifting the sagging head. "Wake up, brat."

There was another groan and the blue eyes fluttered once, opened, and tried to focus before again

closing. Conar’s head sagged downward.

"We’ve come to take you home, Your Grace," Belvoir said. He peered into the mauled face. "Your lady

sent us, Highness."

Conar couldn’t focus on the blurring, shadow-crossed face before him. He couldn’t understand the

words, either, for they seemed to be coming from some place far, far away.

Hern cupped Conar’s chin, turning the battered face toward him. "It’s me, brat. It’s Hern. You have to

help us. We’ve got to get you out of here. Can you walk?"

He strained to make sense of the buzzing, incoherent phrases, but couldn’t. He felt numb—disembodied.

Who were these men and why were they tormenting him? He closed his eyes.

"Highness!" Belvoir warned. "Stay with us, Highness!"

"You have to carry him," Galen repeated, his whisper carrying up to Sentian.

"They can’t, fool! They’re too big to make it up the shaft with His Grace!" Sentian would have kicked

the bastard down the ladder if he could, but he wasn’t prepared for the fierceness with which Galen shot

up the ladder and literally pushed himself up and over Sentian.

"Get out of my way, and give me that!" Galen growled, yanking the lantern from Sentian’s hands. "Get

down the ladder and bring him up!" He pointed at a piece of rope lying by the hole. "Tie his hands and

then loop his arms around your neck. You can bring him up that way."

"Do you think I’m as addled as you?" Sentian shouted, ignoring Hern’s command to be silent.

Nevertheless, he lowered his furious voice. "I take one step down that ladder and you’ll shut the grating!"

"Hern!" Galen hissed, pushing Sentian out of his face. "This ill-conceived serf will have to bring Conar up

the ladder! You and Belvoir are too heavy. One of you come up here and keep me company. This little

bastard doesn’t trust me."

"Damned right, I don’t!" Sentian agreed.

Belvoir’s head popped up from the oubliette’s opening, his face livid with rage. "If the two of you don’t

knock it off, I’m going to whack off your nuts!" He pulled himself onto the floor and spun Sentian around

in a hard grip. "Get your lily white ass down there and get His Grace before I put my foot up it!"

Sentian wasted no time in lowering himself into the shaft. He glanced sheepishly at Hern’s angry face and