The Black Horseman ti-1

by Richard D. Parker

  The old Weapons Master raised one hand, as if in greeting and then drew his kali, and with the same grace he always displayed, he struck the Traveler across the neck. The bubble instantly disappeared with a loud pop.

  “Master!” Gwaynn yelled and tried to rise.

  “Was his idea,” Karl said softly. “Couldn’t be havin’ the Zani follow us that closely. As it is, we’ll be lucky to get away.”

  Gwaynn tried to rise to his feet, but failed. “Master!” he yelled again, unable to listen to what was being said, unable to comprehend another loss.

  “Master,” he said again, this time just above a whisper.

  “My Prince,” Karl said kneeling before the young man. He leaned down so their heads were nearly the same height. Gwaynn did not listen; his eyes were still focused on the spot where the bubble used to be. Karl took him by the shoulders and shook him just a bit.

  “My Prince, it was necessary. Master Sath knows the back passages of the keep better than anyone. If it is possible to elude the Zani and find us, he will. He knows we go to the Toranado, and he will follow if it is safe. The Traveler had to die, or we would have been pursued and they would have us before we could escape this land.”

  It was not a long speech, unless you knew Karl, but it served its purpose. At that moment something died within Gwaynn, but also something was born, the need to strike back, the need for revenge, the need to kill Zani.

  “You are not to call me ‘My Prince’ anymore,” he told Karl. “Now I am just Gwaynn to you,” he said, clenching his fists.

  “Yes,” Karl agreed, then stood and gingerly helped Gwaynn to his feet.

  Gwaynn turned carefully around and studied the small village. “Where are we?”

  “Heron,” Karl answered. “Can you walk?”

  Gwaynn thought about it a moment then nodded. “Yes. Why here?”

  “Your father’s plan, just in case everything went wrong,” Karl said as they began to walk slowly toward the town. “We have a house set up with everything we will need, and a trireme is waiting to take us to the Toranado, the only family your father ever trusted.”

  “My father’s plan,” Gwaynn said with enough venom that Karl looked up at him. “What of the plan to protect Solarii and the Massi?” he asked simply. “How could the Zani have defeated us so easily?”

  Karl shook his head. “No boy, do not think badly of your father. Was not his fault and was not only the doing of the Zani. The High King’s Temple Knights had a hand in it.”

  “The Temple Knights?” Gwaynn asked, shocked.

  “Yes, at least three cohorts of them,” Karl answered with a look of disgust on his face.

  “But why?”

  Karl shrugged. “You’ll have to put that question to the High King.”

  Gwaynn thought about his father, his brothers, his sister and mother and a great wave of sadness threatened to overwhelm him, but another feeling crept around the edges of his consciousness, a feeling of relief, relief that he had survived. He shuddered and then looked up at Karl. “Come, let us go,” he said shaking his head in an attempt to drive away unwanted thoughts. They moved off, Karl in the lead. He took them directly into the town, which was open to any and all travelers. The sun was below the horizon now, and it was quickly growing dark, which was advantageous, especially since Gwaynn was wearing nothing more than a shirt and a cape. Attention was one thing they did not want.

  Karl soon moved off the main track and they circled around to the east before heading back northwest where they entered the grounds of a wealthy merchant’s house situated close to the wharves. Karl knocked three times, waited then knocked four times, waited then knocked once. A large, severe looking, middle-aged woman opened the door. She studied them both for an instant then ushered them quickly in.

  “Ooooh….ooooh. It is true then, Solarii has fallen,” she stated as she led them to the back of the house toward the kitchens. A tall, thin man met them on the way. There were two more men waiting in the kitchen, obviously soldiers. All of them looked very serious, very sad.

  “It’s true then?” the thin man asked. Karl nodded.

  “We need something to eat,” he added and sat at the large wooden table that dominated the center of the room. He motioned for Gwaynn to do likewise. Gwaynn hesitated for a moment then sat.

  “Sire…” the woman said and moved off to fetch stew for the two of them.

  “There will be no more of that,” Karl said. “For his safety his name is Gwaynn, nothing more.”

  The woman sobbed, but shook her head.

  “The King then…and the others?” one of the soldiers asked. Gwaynn looked down at the table and then began to pick at his fingernails.

  Karl again nodded. “Contact Captain Tul. We leave at first light,” he added and the soldier stood and left without a word.

  The woman returned with two bowls of warm stew and placed it before them. Gwaynn’s stomach growled loudly and he immediately started on it. “Thanks Karla…I’m starving,” Karl said and nodded as Gwaynn looked up.

  “Me sister,” he said sheepishly, “and her husband Paulo.” The thin man nodded but said nothing. Gwaynn paused in mid bite, remembering his own sister, now dead…for how long? He could not say for sure, and then he thought of his mother and her bowels, and gagged. He slowly put down his spoon, sat still for a moment then pushed the bowl toward the middle of the table.

  “The stew is not to your taste?” Karla asked. Gwaynn just shook his head.

  “What is it?” Karl asked, but Karla moved behind the boy and softly gripped his shoulders.

  ‘He looks so like the King,’ she thought.

  “He’s had a day,” she said for Gwaynn. “Come…Gwaynn, I’ll take you up to your room.”

  Gwaynn, afraid if he had to explain he might start to cry, agreed. He rose and followed her from the kitchen without a word.

  “Try and sleep,” Karl said after him. “If everything is set we will leave just before sunrise.”

  Gwaynn heard him, but did not respond; instead he followed Karla up a flight of stairs and down a narrow hall, and into one of the far rooms. The room was small, dominated by a large bed. There was a table with a pitcher of water, a chair that sat before a window, and a fireplace, which was presently cold. Karla led him to the bed, and gently removed his cape.

  “I’ll fetch you a nightshirt,” she said, but Gwaynn grabbed her hand before she could leave.

  “My…my father’s shirt will be fine,” he whispered. “Don’t go.”

  Karla hesitated for a moment and then they both sat down. He went willingly and then without a word leaned into Karla until she put her arms around his shoulders.

  He sat quietly for a moment, and then started to cry, gently at first, but then harder as his grief overwhelmed him. He wept but made no noise. He cried for nearly a quarter of an hour, and all the while his mind taunted him with one word. ‘Coward.’

  ǂ

  While Gwaynn was crying, many miles away to the east and south, Afton Sath, moved carefully through the small dark tunnel that led from the kitchens of the keep, deep underground and then to the south. It ran underground for just over five miles. He was not sure how far he had come through the dark, damp tunnel, but the cold was beginning to seep into his bones, and he knew if he was to survive he needed to find the exit before his strength gave out. He was sure his old body would betray him if he had to spend the entire night underground. But his torch had sputtered and gone out over an hour ago, and he was forced to go very slowly through the pitch black, feeling his way carefully through the loose rocks that littered the tunnel floor. A fall at this point could very well prove fatal, and he, in his sorrow and hatred, would not allow himself to die before he had one more opportunity to strike a blow against the treacherous Deutzani. Unfortunately his thoughts continued to dwell on the day just past. It had been a disaster beyond anything imaginable, not only had a trusted ally attacked, but the defenses of the country had crumbled far too easily. Also the
re was strong evidence that the High King’s Temple Knights had aided the enemy. Why, Sath did not know, but he wanted to live to find out.

  He stumbled slightly and put his face and hand through a thick web, which bracketed the tunnel. He didn’t flinch and even felt a small wave of hope, thinking perhaps he was nearing the end of the tunnel. Earlier in the journey he had heard the sounds of many small scurrying feet, but those had diminished the farther he made his way from the castle. His right shoulder was aching from having to hold his hand up and out in front of him in an attempt to keep from slamming his head against a rocky outcropping. His left hand glided along the wall of the tunnel.

  He actually moved out of the tunnel and entered the large cavernous area without realizing it until he kicked a rock and the sound echoed in the chamber. He felt a wave of relief, but did not increase his speed as he continued to feel his way carefully forward, one hand still out in front and one hand on the rock wall. It was not long before he felt a puff of fresh air. In it he could smell the forest and the ocean beyond, and within moments he was at the cave mouth; He stepped out to see the stars and the quarter moon above as tears welled in his eyes.

  He breathed a sigh of relief, but he was not yet safe. He was still only five miles from Solarii, the capital of the country, with enemy troops all around and he suspected a good portion of them were dedicated to finding him or his body. He moved out of the cave and headed down a steep wooded hill. He still moved carefully, but just as fast as his seventy-year-old body could safely carry him.

  When he made it to the bottom of the hill it took him nearly a quarter of an hour to find the thin game path he knew was there, but in the dark it was not easy to locate. Once he had found it, he immediately began to march away from the northern town which had been his home for nearly fifty years. He would make his way south, avoiding the many small hamlets along the way, which would be obvious targets for the Zani invaders, instead he would go cross country and head for the southern outskirts of a the large town of Millvale. Yes, he would head to the Fultan’s, a mid-range noble family, which specialized in brewing ale. But they were also relatives, cousins of his late wife. The two of them had visited the estates of Thomas Fultan several times in the last few years before his wife died. She enjoyed the heated springs situated not far from the main house and Sath enjoyed the ale. If the Fultan’s managed to survive the invasion, which Sath thought likely given the remote location of the estate and their obvious lack of influence, it would be a perfect launching point to wherever he finally decided on heading permanently. Now the only problem was getting to Millvale undetected.

  II

  Karl woke Gwaynn very early the next morning. The boy was confused for a moment, and then the memories of the day before struck him like a hammer blow.

  ‘Gwynn is dead,’ he thought listlessly. Not that he had ever truly forgotten the fact. All through the night, dreams haunted and reminded him of the previous day’s horror. Through most of the night visions Gwynn was being raped. She implored and begged Gwaynn to save her, but he did not. He just watched, remaining quiet to save himself. He made no move to help her even when she turned to him, her intestines hanging from her naked midsection, and pleaded.

  ‘Keep the dogs away. Please, keep the dogs away.”

  But in his dreams he had done nothing, nothing at all.

  “Karl,” Gwaynn said, softly rubbing his forehead, trying his best to dispel the horrible visions running through his mind.

  “Come lad,” the big man said laying a hand on Gwaynn’s shoulder. “The mornings will be the worst for a while now,” he added and set clothes on the foot of the bed.

  Gwaynn sat up and looked about the room, but thankfully Karla was gone. He was surprised he had slept at all.

  “Last night was no picnic,” the boy answered sitting up and dressing, wincing from his sunburn as he pulled on a shirt.

  Karl chuckled despite the emotional pain. “No, no picnic,” he replied as Karla moved into the room. Gwaynn made a move to cover up, but then shrugged and stood, pulling his pants on. Karla appeared not to notice his nudity.

  “I’ve packed you two some food, a lot of food ‘cause I know how much Karl eats,” she said as Gwaynn added a leather vest. He was pulling on some old worn boots when she knelt before him. He stopped and looked at her, smiling ruefully.

  Karla smiled back, tears in her eyes. “Come back to us soon, my King.”

  Gwaynn could not speak, so he just nodded, shifted his feet inside the boots. They were big but fit reasonably well. He stood and tried not to look at Karla, but found that he could not help himself.

  “Thank you,” he said choking up slightly, but he somehow maintained control and she seemed to sense that he wanted to keep his composure.

  “You need to get moving,” she said to help cover his emotions. “The Zani will soon spread all throughout the land, and it will be easier to come here by sea. We may not have much time.”

  “She’s right,” Karl said and they moved one after another down the hall and then the stairs. They paused at the front door for only a moment and then without saying good-bye stepped out into the cool morning air. The sky to the east was a deep purple-black, the sun not yet above the horizon. One of the soldiers from the night before ran to meet them.

  “Sir,” the man said to Karl. “The Zani are coming.”

  Karl cursed and stopped walking. “By sea?”

  The soldier shook his head and Karl started walking again. “No, by land. About fifty foot soldiers.”

  “How long?” Gwaynn asked, nearly jogging to keep up with Karl’s long strides, but he noticed that the soldier was moving his legs rapidly also, which made him feel better.

  “About an hour away, Sire,” the soldier added and bowed his head slightly. Karl let the lapse go. They had time, and habits that spanned generations were hard to break. They continued to the docks in silence, all of them moving very rapidly. The soldier led them to a trireme that was bustling with activity, preparing to caste off. There was a man with long black hair waiting for them.

  “Sire,” he said as they approached, then bowed low from the waist. “The Londalay is at your service.”

  Karl said nothing.

  Gwaynn bowed his head slightly. “I thank you Captain. Please inform your crew that they must address me as a regular traveler. For whatever reason, the Zani have targeted the royal family. If you continue to treat me as royalty it will be noticed and put everyone in danger.”

  Captain Tul stared at the boy for a moment and then smiled. “You, and your party may board, young Master.”

  Gwaynn bowed and moved past the Captain. Karl turned to the soldier before following. “Gather what men you can and head for Koshka, it’s a small southern village along the Scar mountain range. If Afton Sath lives he will make for the town. Stay hidden; stay safe. Let the people know our King still lives. Let the people know to stay quiet. He will return when he can, but for now we must go into hiding.”

  “Luck,” the soldier said with a salute.

  “Luck,” Karl answered then turned and followed his King up the gangway and onto the ship that hopefully would take them to freedom.

  The Londalay was an average sized trireme as the ships go, but you could not convince Gwaynn of that fact. It was about a hundred and forty feet long, had four decks, including two decks devoted only to oarsmen of which there were about a hundred, all of them free men paid from the profits of the trading ship. The oarsmen occupied the middle two decks with the lower hold for the trade goods. The upper deck was used as quarters, and to move additional cargo if it was needed. On this trip there would be no trade goods.

  In addition to the oarsman, there was one large mast placed directly in the center of the deck, it supported a single large rectangular sail. Gwaynn and Karl waited near the mast until Captain Tul boarded and motioned for them to join him. They moved toward the back of ship where an awning was set up near the tiller to keep them out of the sun during their voyage.


  The Captain gave an order, which was barked out by one of his lieutenants, and the oars from the lower deck were dropped down in the water. A steady beat boomed from a drum below and they slowly began to get underway. Gwaynn could not help himself and stood, then moved to the side of the ship. He immediately noticed that only one level of oars was working at the moment, the lower deck. Gwaynn concentration was such that he failed to hear Captain Tul come up beside him.

  “Only half the oarsmen are working,” Gwaynn commented.

  “Yes,” the Captain answered. “It is how most merchant ships operate. Half on, half off, for rest. It would appear strange if we bolted out of the harbor with all oarsmen pulling.”

  They stood silently for a time until the ship reached the middle of the harbor, then the Captain turned.

  “Full sail,” he said and his order was repeated. The sail was quickly hoisted, catching the first rays of the rising sun. The sail immediately billowed out, catching the wind. Their speed increased dramatically. Gwaynn turned to look at the Captain.

  “No sense in dallying about the harbor, however,” he said with a smile, but Gwaynn did not smile back as he continued to watch the activities of the ship closely. All went smoothly, but as they cleared the harbor three additional triremes were spotted coming up from the northeast. The Captain moved to the far side of the ship to get a closer look. Karl and Gwaynn joined him.