WindFall Read online

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  Twilight Times Books

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  Copyright ©1999 by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  First published by Twilight Times Books, November 2002

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  Credits:

  Cover Artwork—Ardy M. Scott

  Managing Editor—Ardy M. Scott

  Publisher—Lida E. Quillen

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  WindFall

  Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Dedication

  To Patty Mele:

  Sister of my heart, a sprinkler of stardust;

  Always there when I need a friend.

  ...Charlee

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  CONTENTS

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  Chapter One

  It had been days since Nicholas Cree and his sister, Gillian, had eaten. Their bellies rumbled; their heads ached with hunger; their fingers and toes were numb with cold, their lips blue. The snows through which they were wading had turned their limbs stiff and they could no longer drag themselves through the building drifts.

  It had been foolish to try to escape in the dead of winter; they knew that now. The horses had run off the second day, frightened away by the snarling of timber wolves.

  Nicholas had lost his direction in the blowing snow and they had been wandering uselessly for several hours. In the whiteout that encased them, there was no glimmer of hope; no light toward which they could guide their tired bodies.

  Now, almost to the point of exhaustion, the two young people took refuge beneath a low rocky mountain overhang and sat shivering as they huddled together, trying desperately to blend the dwindling heats of their rapidly chilling bodies. All that was left was the heartless, icy death that awaited them during the long, frigid night.

  “I'm sorry, Gilly,” Nick croaked through cracked and bleeding lips.

  Gilly Cree used what was left of her strength to squeeze her brother's hand. “You did the best you could, Nick,” she answered him.

  Nick pressed his face against the wet wool of her coat and sobbed, his tears freezing on his chapped cheeks as he cried. He could not feel the trembling of his sister's cold fingers as she stroked his damp hair.

  “I don't blame you, Nicky.” she whispered. “You tried to help."

  The wind whipped past them, sending clumps of pristine white flakes, heavy and damp, cascading over the overhangs its protests to the world around them.

  “I didn't want it to end like this,” Nick sobbed. “Oh, God, Gilly! I didn't want it to end like this!"

  She began to hum to him, a lilting tune from their Chalean childhood, hugging him to her as best she could. Her voice broke now and again as happy memories of their growing up together flitted unbidden across her mind's eye. As she let the tune dwindle away, she imagined she could hear someone calling to them from out of the wind.

  But that was just a painful wish, she thought with bitter regret, for no one knew where they had gone. No one, not even their beloved sister, Adele, had been made privy to their hasty plans to spirit Gillian out of Hellstrom Point and away from the unwanted attentions of Rolf de Viennes.

  He'll not find us in Serenia,” Nick had sworn to her as he had helped her pack her small valise. “We'll find work in Boreas; change our names. Everything will be all right. You'll see!"

  They had left Virago on the night before her wedding to the man her father had decreed she spend the rest of her life with, despite the fact that he hated the de Viennes family almost as much as Gilly hated Rolf.

  “It's a matter of honor,” her father had shouted at her. “You'll take him to husband and not argue about it!"

  “The man is vile!” Gilly had argued with her father. “I can not walk the corridors of the Keep without him trying to paw me!"

  “It is past time you were married,” her stepmother had said icily. “The de Viennes family is important in the Realm. They are people of means. You could do worse than Rolf de Viennes."

  “How so?” Gilly had shouted at her stepmother. “He has asked for the hand of every eligible maiden at court and has been turned down. Can you not see the man is...."

  “IT IS SETTLED!” her father, the Duke of Warthenham, had hissed at her. “I owe the Hesar family a debt of honor and I will see that debt paid!"

  No amount of honor could force Gilly to accept Rolf de Viennes or make her even consider spending her life at his mercy. His reputation alone, one of cruelty and viciousness, had turned Gilly's heart to stone with fear; but every argument she had made to her father, every tear, every tantrum, every pleading, had been met with stony silence.

  “I won't let Papa give you to that lecher, Gilly,” Nick had pledged. “Not if my very life depends on it."

  As the guests began to assemble two months later at Tempest Keep, the mighty fortress of the Hesar family where members of the peerage had taken their marriage vows for generations, Nick and Gilly had made plans for her escape.

  Now, here in this godawful cold; in this desolate place where nothing stirred and warmth was just a fleeting memory, Nick's life might well end because he had loved his sister too much to see her shackled to a man she could not abide.

  Gilly lifted her head, hearing the phantom calling once more. she tensed, hoping against hope that it was not a posse sent to bring them back Praying as she hugged her brother closer to her breast that no trackers had been close on their heels when they had crossed over into Serenia.

  If they had crossed over into Serenia. Nick was not sure. For all he knew, they might well still be in Virago.

  “Do you hear that, Nicky?” she whispered to him, bending down so she could place her lips to his ear. Above the keening of the arctic wind, she doubted if he could hear her otherwise. “Do you hear it?"

  “What?” he asked tiredly, his eyes closing against the spreading warmth and lassitude that was beginning to envelop him.

  Again the ghostling voice came out of the wind and Gilly pushed her brother away, too tired and cold herself to notice the languor that was claiming her own body. “Listen, Nick!” she told him. “Do you hear someone calling for help?"

  “Trackers,” Nick stated in a flat, emotionless voice. “They've found us."

  “No,” Gilly disagreed. “I don't think so.” Easing her brother out of her arms, she wrapped her heavy coat closer around her shivering body and leaned out beyond the ov
erhang, ignoring the fat clumps of snow which fell heavily on her quivering shoulders. She squinted into the bright white swirl of snow that spun around her and imagined for a moment she saw an arcing light off to her right.

  “Come back, Gilly,” Nick pleading. His teeth were clicking together so hard he had to clamp his jaws shut to control them.

  “H..el..p m..e p..l..e..a..s..e!"

  “There! Did you hear it?” Gilly cried out. “Someone is in trouble, Nick!"

  “No more so than we are,” Nick mumbled as he pressed his back against the unbearably cold rock behind him.

  Once more Gilly saw the flare of light, closer now, and she reached back for Nick's arm. “We've got to try to help, Nicholas!” She dragged on her brother's sleeve. “Nicky, please!"

  A part of Nicholas Cree wanted to stay where he was; to close his eyes and sleep; to let the frigid wind lull him into the arms of the Gatherer and keep him there for eternity, but another part of him was touched by the pleading in his sister's voice and he stirred, coming to his knees in the snow, reaching out to restrain her from venturing out from under the overhang.

  “How do you know it isn't them, Gilly?” he asked, listening intently for the ghostly voice he, himself, had heard calling for help.

  “I just do,” Gilly said forcefully. “Whoever it is, he's in need of assistance, Nick, and so are we. Maybe he can lead us to safety."

  “He may well be just as lost as we are, Gilly,” Nick sighed, but he crawled out from under the overhang, stood, then held his hand out to his sister. “Come on, then. We might as well freeze out here as under there."

  Lowering their heads against the onslaught of the pummeling snow and biting wind, brother and sister began trudging their way toward the bobbing light.

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  Chapter Two

  Jasper Kullen lifted his lantern once more toward the thrashing sound coming from the frozen pond and then shrugged indifferently. He turned his head slightly to follow the bolting doe as it wove through the tall spruces and disappeared into the forest beyond, wishing he had his crossbow with him. The doe would have fed his family for several weeks, had he been able to bring her down in the force of the blizzard's wind.

  Kullen looked back toward the pond just in time to see the man's head disappear beneath the surface of the water. The broken chunks of ice around where the man had vanished, bobbed for a moment as a struggling hand pushed up from the water, clawing at the ice floe. The grasping fingers slid away from the slippery ice, grabbed frantically at the floe, missed, then disappeared beneath the churning waves.

  “Die, you sorry bastard,” Kullen spat. “Do us all a favor and die!"

  The crack of ice breaking away shot over the howling wind; the pond water heaved, splashing over the ice floe as the man tried desperately to claw himself out of the water once more. Unable to lever himself up, the man sank heavily beneath the waters, thrashing as he did, his hand grabbing feebly at the ice to keep himself from going under again. More ice broke off from the main floe and the struggling man disappeared one last time below the surface, his hand, descending slowly through the cold water, still clutching a jagged section of ice in its rigid fingers.

  For a long time, Kullen stood watching the waters subside. When at last the ice was still and the surface began glazing over, freezing solid once more, he let a vindictive smile slowly spread over his weathered face.

  “Good riddance,” Jasper Kullen said, nodding. “And may the Demons roast you o'er a slow spit."

  Hitching up his shoulders into the relative warmth of his great cape, the woodcutter turned and headed back up the path to his hut.

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  Chapter Three

  He had no idea in hell where he was. Beneath the surface of the frigid water, his world was pitch black and suffocating. It was all he could do to push his rapidly dying body through the murky wetness of the pond.

  Above him, the dark water slapped against the surface of the ice. Precious pockets of cold air had been trapped in the space between water and ice, and he strained to press his face into the space, gasping for breath, though the chill of the air he sucked in brought intense pain to his depleted lungs.

  “You're going to die for your sins,” he had heard the woodcutter shout to him, and he was terribly afraid that for once Jasper Kullen was telling the truth.

  The deer had been saved, he thought as he managed to arch his body away from the thick ice overhead and dive toward the bottom of the pond, his feet tangling in the reeds as he swam. Even if he died, the animal would see another day's light before some ruthless hunter brought her down. His sacrifice would have meant something to at least one living creature.

  A patch of a lighter hue hovered just beyond him and it was to this sanctuary he guided his frozen body, plowing through the darkness with the last of his fading strength. If he could only gather enough speed in the water, he might be able to push through the ice as he surfaced. He might even be able to beach himself on the floe, then claw his way onto the ice and drag himself out of the pond.

  Kicking out with every last bit of power in his long legs, he knifed through the slushy water and shot toward the lighter shade of dark gray above him.

  The ice broke with a resounding crack, the force of his upward momentum carrying him high into the air. Although the sharp edges tore through his sodden shirt and cut shallow furrows into the flesh of his forearms, he did not feel it. All he felt was the whipping wind that caught at his body and hurled him sideways, on to his side, atop a thicker, sturdier piece of ice.

  Scratching frantically at the floe, clawing, kicking, digging his booted feet forward on the ice, he scrambled up onto the solidly frozen pond and into the frozen reeds at the edge. Grabbing handfuls of the thick clumps, he dragged himself out onto the bank, coating his soaked clothing with layer after layer of wet snow until he lay gasping on solid ground. A hard shiver ran through his tired, numb body and he lay still, all the fight drained away.

  Gilly stumbled over a half-buried tree stump and went down heavily in the snow. Her teeth clicked together painfully and she tasted blood where she had bitten the inside of her right cheek. “The gods-be-damn it!” she grunted.

  “Are you all right?” Nick shouted at her over the skirling wind.

  “Aye!” she said with disgust, spitting away the salty taste in her mouth.

  “There's a pond over there!” Nick yelled. “Keep well away from it!"

  Gilly nodded as her brother helped her to her feet. She dusted the snow from her knees and slapped her arms around her chilled body. “Do you see the light?"

  Nick looked about them. “It's gone.” And with it all hope, Nick thought as he urged Gilly forward. There was a trail of sort, a shallower indentation in the snow that had to be a trail, and he hoped it led to the source of the light they had seen earlier.

  “This way!” he shouted.

  Beyond the place where they walked, the conical shapes of fir trees were shadowed against the bright glare of the snow. They were close enough to actually smell the tar scent of spruce and cedar. The lake was off to their left, a darker white against the pristine drifts.

  “Nick!” Gilly suddenly yelled, dragging on his arm, her own pointing north. “Is that a house?"

  Snow stung his eyes; the wind lashed against his face like shards of glass. It was hard to breathe in the polar air, harder still to talk for his lips were frozen hunks of meat. “I don't know,” Nick answered, narrowing his eyes to the much darker gray shape that had suddenly loomed out of the gathering darkness.

  A gusting gale of wind slapped against them, and with it came the unmistakable smell of wood smoke.

  “IT IS A HOUSE!” Gilly exclaimed, her grip tightening on Nick's arm. “NICKY, IT IS!"

  They were heading right into the teeth of the winds, being devoured by the biting cold that sank through their clothing and clamped down to their bones. Bent over to protect their faces, they struggled toward the s
quat black mass that might well mean life and death for them.

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  Chapter Four

  By the time they reached their destination, darkness had obliterated the front of the mansion, casting the twin oaken portals in shadows so sinister they resembled the yawning entrance way to hell. The wind which gusted over the courtyard and through the denuded shrubs and trees, skirted eerie, unholy music-shattering.

  Gilly glanced nervously about her, taking in the loneliness of the place, the darkness behind its windows, the unkempt courtyard where brambles and debris lay huddled against the fieldstone walls, and scraggly branches scraped at cracked and shattered window panes.

  “The place looks deserted!” Nick shouted as they pushed their way to the entrance.

  Far off to the south, a dog howled in frustration at being left out in the biting tempest, and a wolf answered in commiseration.

  “Nick....” Gilly began, unnerved by the deadly quiet which emanated from the mansion, but her brother was already pounding on the portal, wincing as his frozen fist struck the wood.

  “HELLO!” Nick yelled, pounding with all his strength. “WE'RE LOST! LET US IN!"

  No light came on behind the darkened windows. No answering cries of greeting, or warnings to go away, issued from the silence within.

  “HELLO!!” Nick kicked at the door and tried the handle only to find it locked. “DAMN!” he spat.

  “Maybe we should just leave, Nicky” Gilly said, growing more uneasy with every passing moment.

  “And freeze to death out here when there is shelter available?” her brother snapped. He wedged himself between a scraggly shrub and the mansion wall and cupped his hands to a dirty, glazed window pane.

  “Do you see anything?” Gilly asked, stamping her feet.