The Black Horseman ti-1

by Richard D. Parker

  Samantha stared at Otter in horror before the dog’s growling brought her back to the reality of the situation. She knew she was about to die. Her bow was broken and the dog would be on her before she could even pull her knife from her waist. She waited, as the growling dog approached, its hackles raised menacingly.

  A low whistle sounded behind her and the dog went still. Sam turned to see the Executioner walking toward her, a slight smile on his face, and real fear flooded back into her. She turned and without another thought, rose and ran full tilt toward the dog. The dog flinched at first, surprised. Prey ran, never attacked. But when Samantha was close, the dog had recovered somewhat and reared up to meet her, but at the last moment she ducked, still running and hit the dog in the mid-section. Her feet continued to churn until to the surprise of the dog they were over the edge of the Scar and out into space.

  Furia yelped in fear and twisted free of the girl who was now falling feet first, her skirts bellowing up over her head, mercifully hiding her view of the plummet. She hit the cold water much sooner that she expected and plunged deep, deep into the muddy river and then finally, her feet struck the bottom. The force of her fall caused her knees to buckle slightly and it took an instant for her to realize that she was not dead or even injured, then she pushed upward with all her might and a moment later broke the surface. She sputtered for several seconds then wiped the water from her eyes. The dog also survived the fall and was swimming very slowly toward the far bank. Something in its movements told Sam that it had injured a leg, perhaps more than one, for it was having a hard time making head way against the slow current. Instinctively Samantha looked up, half expecting the Executioner to come falling down after her, but he was still up there, high on the edge of the Scar, gazing down at her. Her heart thumped harder just looking up at him, but after a moment she realized that he was not going to jump. Seeing the drop from below, she could hardly believe she’d done such a thing. She glanced over at the struggling dog, then back up at the Executioner who continued to glare down at her, and then with quiet determination she swam up behind the beast. She fumbled for her knife, which was somehow still in its sheath, drew it and with all her might tried to plunged it into the back of the dog. Swimming in the water made the task more difficult than she expected and the knife sliced through the dog’s hindquarters. The black beast gave a half yelp, swallowed some water and began to splash harder for the bank. Sam settled herself; this time swimming a bit closer and struck. The knife ran deep into the back of the dog’s neck. This time the dog did not yelp, just jerked spasmodically, went under, then rose again before finally disappearing all together beneath the water.

  Sam, breathing hard now, looked back up. The Executioner still stood on the very edge of the Scar, watching. She smiled at him and waved, before slowly making her way to the far bank. She climbed from the river, holding her skirts tightly as they tried to fall away from her hips, heavy with water. She looked back up the Scar, but the Executioner was gone. She struggled up the steep dirt bank, but it was not until she got to the top that she realized her shoes were gone. She did not pause to ponder this; instead she began to walk quickly back to the town. However, she did not head directly into Lynndon where there were soldiers, instead she skirted around the east side, keeping low and all the while wishing her clothes were dry. Thankfully it was still very early in the morning; the back alleys were deserted as she circled all the way to the far side of town and into the barn, which stood next to Wake’s smithy shop. There was only one horse inside, in the very last stall. “Bull” a sign said on the crossbeam above and inside was a very large draft horse, whose back came level with Samantha’s eyes. The horse watched her and then skittered about nervously as she entered, and Samantha forced herself to slow down.

  “Easy Bull…easy,” she said, and slowly approached one hand held out. Bull eyed her suspiciously, for she was obviously not Wake, but her kind words and soft scratches soon settled him down. The horse was immense, and Sam was not at all sure he was broken for riders until she spotted the saddle draped over one of the walls of the stall. “Wake” was carved into one side, and reading it she had to smile. Yes, this would be a horse Wake would own. She struggled with the saddle, it was large and heavy and it took all of her strength to lift it up over her head and onto Bull, but eventually she managed, and once in place the cinching was easy, she hardly had to bend over to do it. Bull waited patiently for her and then allowed the girl to lead him from the stall and out into the barn. He was excited, for Wake rarely saddled him anymore, only taking him out to pull the large heavy wagon that also sat in the back of the barn.

  Sam led Bull over close to a ladder that went up to the loft. There she had to climb two steps before she could place her foot into the stirrup and pull herself up onto the horses back.

  “Come on Bull,” she said softly and nudged the horse into a walk. Bull complied, as eager as she to be out of the barn. Once outside, Samantha was afraid she would see soldiers moving about but the streets were nearly empty. There was just one young boy on this side of town. He watched her as she turned her Bull to the west and together they left town at a fast pace. She would head northwest to Manse, the only other place to easily cross the Scar.

  ǂ

  Gwaynn and Krys entered Manse late the next afternoon. They made straight for the town even though they could have avoided it and crossed the Scar at any number of points within a thirty-mile span. Here, in and around Manse, the Scar appeared and disappeared into the earth, rising and falling much like a sea serpent arching in an out of the water. Even the river was wide and slow which made the crossing that much easier. But the two young men from Noble were not interested in crossing undetected, for they were hunting a party of Executioners.

  Manse was a thriving town of nearly forty thousand, making it the third largest metropolis in Massi, and the largest in the interior countryside. Only Cape and the capital Solarii surpassed it. It owed much of its prosperity to the massive amounts of trade goods that moved off the Scar Plateau and down to the plains, lumber being the chief commodity. But several precious metals were mined in the mountains, and animal furs were also traded, plus a fair portion of the horses in Massi were raised on the Plateau.

  Gwaynn and Krys rode into the town, surprised by the amount of activity going on at the relatively late hour. There were large numbers of wagons loaded with lumber, some were massive, with teams anywhere from six to ten horses and a few even had as many as twelve. Some of the shops were closed for the night, but many were still open. They passed several taverns on the way into town; all were doing a brisk business, filled with Deutzani soldiers and Massi citizens alike. Gwaynn paid close attention to the interaction of the two groups, and while there seemed to be very little mingling, there also did not seem to be any overt animosity. Gwaynn frowned a little at the apparent peaceful co-existence.

  “They’ve been here well over a year,” Krys said reading his friend’s thoughts by his gaze and the look on his face.

  Gwaynn nodded, but said nothing until they came across a particularly large wagon filled with trimmed logs. “We’re looking for Lonogan Bock,” he said to a man who was high up on the load, checking the ropes and adjusting them when necessary. The man was burly, with shagging hair and he wore a full dark beard that nearly covered his entire face so that only three holes appeared out of the coarse hair, two for his eyes and one for his nose. The hole at his mouth didn’t appear at first as he studied the two below.

  “South side of town, at the very edge along the river. Lonogan Lumber Mill, largest in Manse,” the man answered, his eyes still evaluating the pair before him. He thought they looked a might suspicious, plain clothes, but top notch mounts. The two didn’t usually go together. Horse thieves’ maybe, but these two didn’t have the look of horse thieves either. “You can’t miss it,” he added.

  Gwaynn and Krys nodded and moved off unaware that the bearded man continued to watch them curiously.

  Gwaynn led them far
ther into the large town, but eventually stopped at a two-story inn at the corner of two of the major roads. ‘Blackberry Inn,’ the sign said on the balcony above, inside at ground level, was a particularly busy tavern.

  “I was hoping we were going to stop soon,” Krys said with a rueful smile. “I’m not used to riding so much,” he added and massaged his backside. Gwaynn laughed and did likewise.

  “Lonogan can wait ‘til morning,” Gwaynn answered, still rubbing.

  “We can help with that,” a feminine voice said from above, followed by several giggles. They looked up; on the balcony to their right were a pair of middle-aged women, and a young girl. They were all dressed provocatively and if there were any questions about their occupation, their direct, lurid stares would have dispelled them. As it was, neither Gwaynn nor Krys had any questions.

  “Thank you miss,” Gwaynn said trying hard not to look up the woman’s skirts while she positioned herself so it would be hard for him not to.

  “Miss!” the woman repeated and nudged her friend. “They look a bit young for me.”

  “Yeah, but Emm could handle them,” the other woman said then pulled the girl forward to the very edge of the balcony. “Whatcha think Emm?”

  The girl was young; though at second glance she was probably older than Gwaynn’s first estimation, close to his age, if not a bit younger. She smiled down at them, a little shyly. Gwaynn guessed she was either very new at the trade, or very experienced, because her smile was full of innocence, either true or manufactured. They said nothing more, just smiled and walked into the tavern, but Krys turned to have another quick look at Emm and to his delight she was still looking down at him, smiling.

  They entered the noisy, crowded tavern and made their way with difficulty up to the bar. Like the tavern in Bern this one seemed completely devoid of Deutzani soldiers, though they had passed several large groups of them on their way to the center of town. But unlike the tavern in Bern, this one was packed with people, men, women and even some boys, who appeared to be doing most of the cleaning and picking up after the wide variety of patrons. Gwaynn guessed that most of the crowd consisted of either loggers or trappers from up on the Plateau. But there were also a few men dressed more like local merchants or businessmen, though from the shadier side of town to be sure. Nearly all the men present were either drinking, eating or gambling, or some combination of the three; while most of the women were of the working class variety, and seemed to be spending much of their time either serving the men, or sitting with them in an attempt to part them from their money, either with drink, food or sexual attention.

  When they reached the bar, they found it packed with a line of drinkers so serious about the endeavor that they didn’t want to be bothered with a table. The two young men paused to take in the wild atmosphere around them. Gwaynn looked over at Krys, who was smiling ear to ear, and Gwaynn had an idea that his face was a mirror image, and quickly sobered up. He nudged Krys, who turned to him still smiling.

  “Ever been in a busy tavern before?” he asked, and Krys looked at him quizzically.

  “That smile you’re wearing might attract a little attention. People will think we’re strangers to these parts,” he added then moved in to fill a hole at the bar as it unexpectedly opened up. Krys nodded and stopped smiling, but continued to gawk at all the activity around him.

  It took several moments before a woman at the bar finally made her way down to Gwaynn.

  “We need a room,” he informed her, having to raise his voice to be heard over the noise of the crowd.

  The woman gave him a knowing smile. “How long ya need, sweetheart?”

  Gwaynn smiled back. “For the night,” he answered and she made a shrugging motion, and then pointed to the door behind them and to the left.

  “Through there,” she shouted. “Go to the desk.”

  Gwaynn nodded, and they moved out of the tavern and into a relatively quiet back room. They crossed it and entered a hallway, which led to a quieter lounge area where only a few people were sitting about in large cushioned chairs. There was an elderly gentleman behind a large cherry wood desk, who helped them, took their money and even showed them to their room on the third floor, almost directly above the tavern.

  “See to our horses,” Gwaynn said frankly. “They are directly in front of the tavern, a black and a large gray.”

  “Of course, sir,” the old man nodded and kept his eyes averted, but they darted about taking in every detail of the two young men. Neither Gwaynn nor Krys noticed the covert looks of the old man as he kept a close eye on the coin purse tied at Gwaynn’s waist. The room was small, but with a solid door and even though there was a floor between the two, the noise of the tavern filtered clearly into the space above. Though the room was modest, it was clean, had two beds and a table with a pitcher of water, and between the beds was a single bedpan.

  There was no thought of not heading back down to the tavern, after all they were both young, hungry, and the possibility of sleep at this point was non-existent. So they left their packs with their kali inside, locked their door and made their way back down stairs. They passed the rooms on the second floor, which were reserved for shorter stays, with just a touch of curiosity and envy. But neither voiced such thoughts.

  Despite leaving their main weapon’s upstairs, each carried a pair of six-inch knives. Gwaynn placed one in a modest sheath at the small of his back and another in a specially made holder in his right boot. Unless he came across a particularly well-trained soldier he felt sure the knives along with his ability at hand-to-hand would suffice in protection.

  When they reentered the tavern, the noise was still just as loud, and though Gwaynn did not notice her, the first person Krys saw was Emm, near one corner. She was standing next to an empty table talking earnestly with the old man who had showed them their rooms. Krys kept an eye on her as they entered and it wasn’t long before the man left, skirting around them just as Emm caught Gwaynn’s eye and called them over. Gwaynn shook his head at her, and began to move toward the bar, when Krys caught his arm.

  “Come on,” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice. Gwaynn frowned at his friend, and then took another quick look at the girl. She was attractive in a mousy sort of way, very thin and petite, with light brown hair that was pulled back from her face and sprouting out of the back of her head in a pair of long braids. She also sported a small nose covered in light freckles and large brown eyes. She smiled at them and waved at them more emphatically.

  “She has a table,” Krys added without even wondering how a small young girl like her could have commandeered a table on her own in such a crowded place.

  “You know what she is?” Gwaynn asked.

  Krys scowled for a moment but then smiled sheepishly. “She’s company, and besides not all of us can attract the attention of Vio Valencia.”

  It was Gwaynn’s turn to scowl, but he did so as they moved over to the girl and the table.

  “I did not have Vio,” he demanded.

  “You could have,” Krys snapped back not even trying to hide the hint of jealousy and admiration in his voice.

  His tone caused Gwaynn to pause and considered his relation to his young girl friend on Noble. “Perhaps,” he answered, smiling as he remembered Vio’s attraction to him.

  “Perhaps,” Krys mimicked, but then fell quiet as they came up on the table and the girl.

  “I’m glad you came,” she said and Gwaynn rolled his eyes.

  They all sat, Emm moved in close to Krys, his attraction to her was obvious unlike his friend’s sullen demeanor.

  “Is this your first time to Manse?” She asked.

  “Does it show?” Krys asked in return and Gwaynn rolled his eyes again.

  The girl giggled on cue, then held out her hand. “I’m Emm,” she said, and Gwaynn had to give her credit; she was soft, smelled wonderful and her eyes sparkled at each of them.

  “Gwaynn,” he said, trying hard not to admit to himself that he enjoy the
way her hand felt in his.

  “Krys,” his friend added also taking her hand, and holding it far longer.

  They sat silently for a while, Gwaynn glancing about at those nearest him, feeling a bit uncomfortable with so many people behind him.

  “Here we are,” a woman said as she placed a pan of steaming meat and potatoes on the table, along with four plates. Gwaynn frowned at the number of plates, and was still frowning when the woman returned with four tankards containing a light brown, sour smelling, ale.

  “Name’s Dot,” the woman said sitting without being asked. She scooted in so close to Gwaynn that their legs could not help but touch. He moved away, but she appeared not to have noticed.

  “You boys look like you’ve traveled far,” she commented as she scooped out some meat and potatoes for the both of them.

  Gwaynn shrugged. The woman was older but far from old; she had yet to reach middle age, though Gwaynn could see a few small wrinkles around the corners of her mouth, and a few more at her eyes. He guessed she was nearing thirty, but could not be sure. He always had trouble with the age of women, especially those older than he.

  Dot moved closer to him so that their legs were touching again. “Where are you from stranger?” she asked leaning over to Gwaynn, holding her chin in her hand and giving him a good look down her low cut bodice.

  “Solarii,” he heard himself murmur, using all his will to keep his eyes from the breasts of the woman at his side. There was a lot to see, and though he tried not to stare, he found it impossible and after a fleeting look at her breasts, he glanced back up at Dot, who was smiling at him.

  “Like them?” she asked and placed a hand on his left leg. Gwaynn immediately stiffened, but didn’t move away; instead he began to eat his potatoes in earnest.

  Dot laughed. “You’re a long way from home,” she added and pecked at the food before her. Gwaynn was surprised that she ate like a lady, small bites and with her mouth closed. “I could keep you company,” she added and he felt her hand move farther up his leg.