“You know this for fact?”
Gwaynn shook his head positively. “Yes.”
Amon sighed. “Yes, the Temple Knights were among the Deutzani,” Amon admitted, again wondering why the High King would be so foolish.
“Why would the High King help the Zani?”
“Yes, why indeed,” Amon wondered once more. “The High King, of course, is not aware of our knowledge in his little deception….nor of yours.”
“Little deception?” Gwaynn asked, suddenly very angry.
Tar Amon bowed to him. “My apologies. I have misspoken.”
They walked for nearly a mile in silence then Amon led them to a large piece of driftwood well up on the beach away from the ever-pounding surf. He sat and invited Gwaynn to do likewise, but the boy stubbornly remained standing for a time, then he realized how tired he was and joined the older man.
“We are very interested in knowing just why the High King would jeopardize his rule and upset the delicate balance of the High Families,” Amon finally said, suddenly looking much older to Gwaynn than he had earlier.
Gwaynn had no answers for him.
“You have become a very great danger to not only the Deutzani, but to the High King himself,” Amon finally stated. “You are right to keep your identity close. Let no one else know. I would call you Karl if I could, but too many people here already know you as Gwaynn.”
Gwaynn cursed to himself. He should have thought to use a different name, but still Gwaynn was not all that uncommon, perhaps he could make it work.
“We have students from all the High Families, including I believe two from the Massi,” Amon explained, and Gwaynn’s heart fell. He had completely forgotten about the two Massi students here. Krys was the name of one. He was older, his studies near completion, Gwaynn thought. The other was a young girl, only eleven, in her first year, but he struggled to remember her name. The girl he had never met, but Krys had come to the castle several times in the last few years, and Gwaynn remembered him well. He was a fantastic swordsman, tall, blonde and very handsome. Gwynn was smitten with him, pretty as he was. Yes, Krys of the Massi was sure to recognize him.
Amon could easily read the dismay on the boy’s face, and smiled. He had a very quick mind, but he would have to learn to keep his thoughts from forming on his face so readily.
“Master Krys was one of those that found you on the beach. He’s told no one but me and I have given him strict instructions to hold his tongue, even though I think such instructions were unnecessary. Both he and Lady Bethany are dismayed by the turn of events, but as yet there has been no trouble between them and the three Deutzani students.”
“There are Deutzani here?” Gwaynn asked intensely, abruptly standing.
Tar Amon turned a hard look on the boy and Gwaynn suddenly realized that this man was Tar of all Tars, and he could now see why in the old man’s eyes. “If you are to stay, there will be no trouble. We, on the Noble Island, are from all families. The students here had nothing to do with the attack on your country, and will not be subject to any repercussions. Am I clear?”
Gwaynn held the High Tar’s eyes. “Yes Sir,” he answered.
“Good,” Amon said, somehow knowing he could believe the boy standing in front of him. “If you wish you may stay on the Island for a time. Becoming a student, of course, is out of the question, but I will set you up to serve Tar Kostek’s quarter.”
A great weight suddenly lifted from Gwaynn’s shoulders, and he could not help but smile at the Old Tar before him. Amon smiled back. “You will report to Leek. His family has been in charge of that quarter for nearly three hundred years. He is expecting you, a distant cousin of the family.”
“Thank you,” Gwaynn said, meaning it.
Amon nodded. “Keep to yourself, attract no attention and you should be able to live reasonably well.”
Gwaynn nodded.
“So, we should be getting back,” Amon said and started to rise. He stopped as Gwaynn stepped forward and took hold of his arm.
“I would like to know if you discover anything about the High King’s motives,” he said, the intense look back on his young face, and it was Amon’s turn to nod, wondering how they had overlooked this boy. Royalty rarely came to them on the islands, but Gwaynn was the youngest of three male children born to the Massi. The High King would have approved such a proposal Amon was sure. It was a shame.
They began their walk back in silence, but after a short way Gwaynn turned to him. “I was wondering if Executioners ever visit Noble Island.”
ǂ
Leek was an old man, a grandfather, and a quiet man. He took to Gwaynn almost immediately, and he was thankful for the help in his quarter. He had three sons himself, but only one, Lane, the eldest, had chosen to stay on the island. Another was aboard the trading vessel Ari Baan, which came to port nearly every year, and his youngest was a merchant in Caul, a port city in Cassinni. Leek’s lone daughter did not survive childhood, but Lane and his wife Shari gave him four granddaughters. Their ages ran between six and seventeen years old, so female help around the quarter was not a problem.
For his part, Gwaynn was surprised to find that he actually liked the physical labor, working around the quarter with Leek and Lane. Both were reserved men, but hard working and patiently showed Gwaynn how to perform all manner of odd jobs from replacing tiles on the roof of the dormitory, to fashioning a hinge for the broken shutter on one of the kitchen windows. He learned to tend the garden, and to feed the livestock under the families care. He found he loved to work outside, and felt a great sense of accomplishment at the end of nearly every day. He was especially proud of the hinge he helped to fashion, and even went so far as to work on several additional hinges in his spare time. So they would have spares, he told Leek, who agree it was a sensible course.
Gwaynn worked hard and spent nearly all of his free time exploring the island. Noble Island was nearly ten miles wide and just over fifty miles long. It was the second largest of the Temple Islands, second only to King’s Island. The island was distinctly shaped, low, flat, sandy land on the western side, but as you headed eastward the land rose higher and higher, became heavily forested and finally culminated in the magnificent Mount Erato, on the extreme eastern end. From a great distance, when the island was very near the horizon, it looked like a great boot sitting on the water, which explained why nearly all of the local fishermen and sailing merchant men referred to it as Boot Island, though never when they might be overheard by a Tar.
The flat sandy western side of the island housed the school, and was split into quarters, each overseen by a local family, and run independently by a single Tar. They were the Mele, Mneme, Aoede, and Clio quarters, but why they were named such was lost in the ancient history of the island. Leek and his family were assigned to the Mele quarter, and had been associated with the group for over ten generations now. Master Amon himself had come out of the Mele quarter, which was a great source of pride for Leek and his family.
Each quarter contained eight students with a new student arriving each year and another one graduating every year. The number of students was always the same, and had been for over four hundred years. The Mele were located on the extreme south of the island. The main hall, adjacent to where Leek and his family lived, was the gathering place for all the students at the end of the day. There they would eat, visit and entertain themselves. It was surrounded by numerous out buildings including four which constituted the students quarters, two students to a building. Gwaynn slept in the loft of the Leek family house, which had a small window that overlooked the walkway leading up to the main hall.
For nearly a month, Gwaynn was quite content, though never truly happy. His work distracted him sufficiently so that he did not dwell on his recent past, and he absolutely loved the isolation of exploring the island in his free time. He traipsed all over the western half of the island going from the southern port town of Hymnia to Euter, the northern port town and back in a single day, twenty
miles round trip. Both towns were small; just over a hundred inhabitants lived in each, and were kept small by the Island’s council who had to approve any and all new citizens. Most applicants were encouraged to find livelihood elsewhere, but the towns were necessary to the life of the school so were tolerated, but strictly segregated. Any violation of this separation by the students or the townspeople was dealt with harshly. Students could be expelled from the school and townspeople could be banished. Such rulings had occurred in the past, but they were extremely rare. Gwaynn, however, was not a student, but part of a serving family and thus could safely go from town to school without any repercussions. In fact, the only area of the island off limits to him was Erato, the extreme eastern side of the island, where the old Masters lived in meditative isolation on the surrounding slopes of the dormant volcano.
Of course his travels eventually led him deep into the forests of central Noble, but he never had the time to go any farther. But this was just as well, since to go any farther was forbidden. It was said that Tar Nev lived and practiced on the slopes of Mount Erato. Tar Nev was a legend both on and off Noble Island. He once was the Weapons Master to the High King himself; a Tar of exceptional ability, and it was claimed, the best swordsman the island had ever created. One day, without explanation Tar Nev left the service of the High King and returned to Noble Island. Such a thing had never happened before and it was thought that the King may unleash the Knights on the masters of Noble
Island in order to find and kill the disloyal Tar, but nothing of the kind happened, fueling Tar Nev’s legend even more.
Gwaynn had no desire to see the old Tar, or meet him; he just enjoyed the freedom and isolation of his long hikes. For many weeks he was satisfied with the arrangement he’d made with Tar Amon, but one windy afternoon, after his chores were completed, he happened across Vio, Krys, Tam and B’dall practicing with their katas on the beach. A kata was a baton about three feet in length and made of wood; each student wielded a pair, one in each hand, and used them with mind numbing skill.
The four students were down close to the water, where the sand was mostly level and wet. Gwaynn, coming from inland was above them, high on a grassy dune. He stopped immediately and watched them practice moves so intricate that it would take years to master just one. He dropped to his knees, fascinated. Vio worked with Tam, another girl, even younger, while Krys was paired off with B’dall. Each pair moved with grace, skill and speed, but for some reason Gwaynn’s attention kept returning to Vio. She moved like no one he knew, not even Master Sath could have matched her grace. She moved with such ease, such elegance, that it looked to Gwaynn as if she were made of liquid, flowing this way and then that to counter an attack or initiate one. For a while, Tam held her own, but then Vio moved past and through her defenses. Once Tam was touched, they would stop and Vio would talk to the younger student, Gwaynn guessed it was to give some instruction, and then they would return to their original positions and start over with their forms.
They practiced for several hours until the sun was low on the horizon, while Gwaynn remained riveted in place, watching every move the students made very closely. Back home, in Massi, Master Sath was in charge of his training, and until now Gwaynn thought he could match his own skill against anyone his age. Of course, he knew about the Temple Island Weapons Masters, but had never seen any his age at work. Master Sath was the only graduate Gwaynn had ever met from the islands. It was growing dark when the student finished their practice, but Gwaynn remained as the four students stripped and waded out into the sea to cool off.
Gwaynn frowned, not sure he ever wanted to swim in the sea again. But they didn’t swim long, and were soon out and dressed. They headed off in the direction of the hall, but Gwaynn stayed on the dune until late into the night, thinking.
By the next morning he had made up his mind to ask Tar Kostek if he could at least practice with the other students even if he could not formally train with them. He worked with Lane all morning in the bean fields south of the hall, but they finished up early in the afternoon, ate and when Gwaynn was done for the day he took a seat in the shade of the hall to wait for the students to return from their training.
Leek found him there soon after. “Come Lad, Prolly will need your help as well,” the old man said in his slow, relaxed style.
Gwaynn was annoyed for a moment but it past quickly. Reluctantly he climbed to his feet and followed Leek off toward the barns.
“Prolly?”
“Yep, her water broke not fifteen minutes ago. Karin is with her now, but may need some help with the birthin.”
Karin was Lane and Shari’s eldest daughter. Gwaynn still had no idea who Prolly might be, but he followed Leek into the barn and soon found out that it was one of the draft horses. Prolly was down, lying mostly on her side but her head was up and her tail swishing back and forth in an almost drowsy manner. Karin was kneeling at Prolly’s south end, her left hand hidden up inside the horse.
Gwaynn groaned when he saw her.
Karin grimaced at him. “You here to take over?”
He grinned at her sheepishly, and then gave a startled look over at Leek.
“Er…I hope not,” he answered, looking to the older man for rescue.
“You just watch, and fetch anything we need,” Leek told him, amused by the lad’s obvious relief.
“How’s the foal?” Leek asked his granddaughter. The girl moved her hand about inside the horse and then nodded.
“Coming head first and nearly here already,” she said, and glanced over at Gwaynn.
“Could you bring another lantern?” she asked. Gwaynn hurried to obey, surprised to find that he was fascinated by the impending birth…disgusted, but fascinated. He rushed back, but despite Karin’s prediction, the foal did not come for nearly three hours. And when it did it took the three of them to pull it, covered in slime and blood, out of Prolly. The sight of the blood gushing from the womb tempered Gwaynn’s mood, so that he did not smile with the others as the long legged colt took its first shaky steps to its mother.
“Would you like to name him?” Karin said, oblivious to the change in Gwaynn’s mood.
Gwaynn shook his head. “Him?” he asked, thinking for some reason the colt should have been female.
“Well, yes it’s a him,” Karin answered as if it was obvious. “Would you like to name him?” She asked again.
Leek cleared his throat but said nothing. He had noticed the stricken look on Gwaynn’s face as he tried to wipe the blood from his hands. The boy had been through something, that was plain, but he decided against saying anything. It was against the old man’s nature to push, knowing that everything would come around in time.
Gwaynn shook his head again, and started to walk out, wanting to head to the water pump and clean the blood from his hands.
“Ah, come on, name it,” Karin insisted. Gwaynn stopped at the stall door. At the moment he could only think of one name, Navarra, but if they named the colt that he might have to kill it.
“I can’t think of a name,” Gwaynn said and made to leave.
“Nothing, not one, comes to mind,” she asked, still playing, unable to understand the boy’s reticence. Gwaynn shook his head but still hesitated at the door of the stall and then a name came to him.
“I can think of one,” he finally said and smiled very briefly. Karin smiled back at him.
“I like it when you smile,” she said lightly. “You should do it more.”
The smile fell from his face, which was not what Karin had intended, and her face reddened.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted, not understanding all the emotions going through Gwaynn.
“Let the lad be,” Leek finally said, trying in his own way to come to her aid.
But Gwaynn waved him off. “I’m fine,” he said. “I think we should name him Karl,” he added and despite himself smiled again. He wondered what the big man would say if he knew a horse was named after him. Well, it was a draft horse, so Karl probably w
ould have thought the name a good one.
With all the excitement over the coming of the new colt, it wasn’t until late the next day that Gwaynn cornered Tar Kostek as he was leaving the hall for his own quarters.
“Leek tells me you helped deliver a new colt?” Kostek said as the boy rushed out to meet him.
Gwaynn nodded, brushing the question aside.
“He also tells me you’re working hard. That is good to hear,” the Tar added as he continued to walk.
“Master…” Gwaynn began haltingly, but then decided it was best just to get his question out in the open. “I was wondering if it might not be possible to practice with the students.”
Tar Kostek stopped walking and turned to stare at the boy. Gwaynn held up his hands. “I understand that I can not train with them, but what of practicing. It might do them good to have another person to work with, and I know I could benefit them in some ways,” he said hurriedly, trying to make his entire point before it was summarily rejected.
“Practice with them?” Kostek repeated his voice unconsciously harsh, but his mind played with the idea.
“Just practice…not training,” Gwaynn added, trying to create a distinction between the two with his voice alone, though most of his hope was already beginning to fade.
Tar Kostek stood where he was for what seemed a very long time to Gwaynn. The Tar said nothing, just stood frozen, looking off, out into the night. Finally he started, and looked back down at Gwaynn.
“I’m not sure,” he said slowly. “Let me put it to Tar Amon, and see what he thinks of the idea.”
Gwaynn couldn’t help but let out a loud sigh of relief; his dreams were still alive and intact. Kostek eyed the boy for another moment longer and then continued to his own cabin. “Practice must not interfere with your duties to Leek,” he shouted back without turning around.
ǂ
Tar Navarra spun and struck, bringing his wooden kata down upon the Deutzani soldier’s left forearm with enough force that the man dropped his weapon, which clattered on the stone floor. Navarra followed it up with a kick to the face for good measure then with practiced ease he turned on the other two soldiers who were his sparring partners by default rather than choice.
The Black Horseman ti-1 Page 6