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.
Both King Arsinol and his advisor Ja Brude watched with interest, Arsinol from the former throne chair of the Massi, and Ja, one level lower and in a much less ornate chair. Arsinol loved the throne room. It was large, nearly fifty paces across and double that in length, and the ceiling was a full three stories above them. There were three enormous fireplaces, the largest directly behind the King and one on each of the longer walls. Hanging on the walls, covering nearly every inch of space, were large intricately woven tapestries that were both beautiful and functional, as insulation. It was a room fit for a King…a King of two countries.
Navarra moved between the two remaining soldiers, a wolf among lambs. He toyed with them, showing off his skill and though his King believed he could control the man, Navarra made Ja very nervous. The man was too deadly and enjoyed dealing out death a little too readily for Ja’s peace of mind. He watched as Navarra quickly dispatched his other two opponents. It was neatly done, though the Executioner still grimaced a few times when he had to block strong blows with his right arm. He was still feeling pain and not yet fully recovered from his recent injury.
With two of the soldiers still unconscious on the floor, Navarra wiped his brow and joined the King on the platform. He sat without being asked, without a bow of respect. Ja caught the slight but said nothing. King Arsinol, however, appeared not to have noticed.
“Your health is improving rapidly,” Arsinol commented. “I will want you to begin hunting for the prince soon.”
Navarra shrugged. “He is dead. Where do you suggest I search the bottom of the Inland Sea?”
The King frowned, disliking the man’s tone, but knowing the Executioner was still needed, and still deadly. Arsinol would never forget how easily Navarra had killed his former Weapons Master a few years prior. The Executioner had played with the man before finally slicing open his lower abdomen.
“I want to see a body. I want proof,” Arsinol finally answered.
“The people of Massi would be easier to control if there was proof to the end of the royal line,” Ja chimed in.
“I control them easily enough,” Navarra answered as if bored, and slung one leg over the arm of the chair in which he now rested. “Speaking of royal line, I suppose congratulations are in order.”
“Killing them is different from controlling them,” the King retorted, but smiled, thinking of his daughter’s upcoming nuptials to the High King. It was finally coming to pass, after years of planning. And though he had many strong, ambitious sons, it was ironic that it would be his youngest daughter who would lead him to the highest throne in the land. Ironic maybe, but not surprising, Audra was such a beauty. The High King Mastoc was smitten with her from the first time he set eyes on her, though the girl had not yet reach the age of twelve at the time. Ja Brude was the first to notice the lust in the old King’s eyes, and together they had played it very shrewdly. The two of them had dangled Audra before the King at every opportunity, and like a large fat pike, they had finally landed him, earning the Kingdom of Massi in the process. Even now it was hard to believe that the old King finally agreed, and that he, Arsinol Deutzani, would soon be “father” to the High King and then, in time, grandfather to the future High King. It mattered not to either of them that Audra who was now fourteen was nearly thirty years junior to her betrothed. She would be queen of the land, and that was indeed a fair trade for happiness. Arsinol turned his attention back to Navarra who was sipping wine and eyeing one of the men on the ground as he slowly came around.
“Let your spies find the boy then, and if they do I will crush all hope in the Massi people,” the Executioner said with a smile, “meanwhile I will begin to hunt the Weapons Master who helped him escape, this Afton Sath. He will be worth hunting, and killing.”
Arsinol had only a minor interest in catching the former Massi Weapons Master, who was an old man and would not live long in any case. But it was true that the man could become a rally point for the people and thus a threat, however slight.
“You hunt your Weapons Master then,” the King muttered. “You will be free until I return from the marriage festivities. But when my spies find the boy…who is alive… you will come and finish the job.”
Navarra smiled, rising from his chair “But of course M’lord,” he answered and left the room without being dismissed.
V
“It’s your quarter, so the final decision belongs to you,” Tar Amon told Kostek early the next morning. The day was starting off near perfect, not a cloud in the sky, warm but with a nice westerly breeze blowing in from the sea. Mornings were by far the best time of the day, Amon thought to himself as his colleague wrestled with the problem before them.
“But you agree that it is a good idea?” Kostek asked looking for help.
Amon shrugged. “Good for the boy, certainly. He will need all the help he can get if he is to survive. Good for your students may be another matter.”
“How so?”
“Gwaynn is at least fifteen, and while he’s sure to have had some training he will be no better than another first year, probably worse. Tam has only been here three months and she may have already surpassed him in skill,” Amon asserted. “Will practicing with someone so beneath their skill level truly improve your other students, or will it just distract them?”
“Yes, but remember he has been trained by Afton Sath,” Kostek argued, knowing that the old Massi Weapons Master was seriously considered for Tar rank upon his graduation.
“Hmm, yes. In his time, Master Sath was certainly the best of the families Weapons Masters,” Amon answered. “But remember he is now well passed his prime.”
“I see your point,” Kostek commented. “I would like to work with Gwaynn, late in the evenings after the day is over, just to see his skill level and then decide.”
Amon smiled. “That’s cutting a fine line. We are only supposed to train students sanctioned by the High King.”
Now it was Kostek’s turn to smile. “Well, in a way it was the High King who put Gwaynn here. Without his involvement with the Deutzani the boy would undoubtedly still be home in Solarii in his bed.”
Amon laughed. “Yes, that is most definitely true. All right, work with the boy. Test the level of his skill. I am sure he will be determined, but whether he has talent or not, we shall have to see.”
Tar Kostek bowed and as he left he couldn’t help wondering just what he had gotten himself into.
Two days went by before Kostek was able to pull the boy aside, but he caught up with Gwaynn one evening while he was finishing his dinner with Lane, Shari, and their four daughters. Kostek knocked and waited but when no one came to the door he let himself in; the entire family was talking and laughing loudly and they were unaware of his presence in the far room. The family chatter was animated and cheerful though Gwaynn, as always, was reserved. It was obvious to the Tar though, that the boy was enjoying the banter of his foster family and they seemed to be at ease with his presence. Kostek was gratified that Gwaynn appeared to be fitting in so well.
“I do not,” Mille protested loudly, turning red as she did so. She was the third daughter. She sported long blonde hair and deep indigo eyes, eyes which she kept riveted on Gwaynn as much as possible. A habit two of her sisters noticed. At the moment they were giving Mille grief for it, much to her and Gwaynn’s discomfort. The entire family fell silent the moment Tar Kostek entered the kitchen.
“I beg your pardon for the interruption,” Kostek said, aware of the anxiety he was causing. He was the master of the quarter, and this family served him and his students. Natural lines were drawn. It was as rare for him to visit
as it was for anyone of the Leek family to present themselves in his drawing room in the evening. They were at different social levels and each in their own way respected the other’s privacy.
Lane jumped to his feet. “Not at all, join us,” he said motioning for Kostek to take a seat. Clearly everyone was uncomfortable with this idea, but good manners insisted on the invitation.
“No, no,” Kostek said holding up a hand and gesturing for the women to remain seated. “Gwaynn, I would like to have a word with you.”
Gwaynn looked about as he slowly rose to his feet. All the girls were smiling at him, especially Mille, as was her mother Shari. Lane and Leek just nodded to him. Kostek led him out of the room and into the night.
“Forgive me for interrupting your dinner,” Kostek began as they slowly walked toward his own quarters.
Gwaynn shrugged. “We were finished with the meal,” he explained, not daring to hope that this was about his practicing with the other students. He didn’t have long to find out.
“Tar Amon has agreed to let you “practice” with the other students,” Kostek explained and immediately Gwaynn’s heart soared, and his face broke into a wide smile. Kostek held up a hand in an attempt to curb the boy’s enthusiasm.
“However, it is my responsibility to train these students,” he began and Gwaynn’s smile began to falter. “Training to be a Master of Arms is demanding enough without any distractions, and I will not have their training impeded by anyone…even you Gwaynn.”
The boy sagged before Kostek’s eyes, and his head was down so that he could not see the smile on the Tar’s face. “If I allow someone of limited ability to work with my students do you think that person would enhance their training or impede it?”
Gwaynn made no reply.
“Therefore you will practice with me, until I deem you proficient enough to work with some of the others.” Kostek watched as the statement sunk in. The boy’s head suddenly came up, his eyes bright. Kostek smiled. “Your first lesson will be tomorrow, seven in the evening. Meet me at my quarters.”
For Gwaynn, the next day seemed to drag on for an eternity, even though Leek kept him busy most of the morning collecting honey from the beehives located maybe a quarter of a mile from the hall. There were twenty hives in all, which constituted all of the bees on the island. Leek was very proud of them and was happy to share the honey with the other quarters, and was all the more popular for it.
While gathering the honey, Leek himself wore no protection at all, but he allowed Gwaynn to don a protective mask and pair of thick gloves. He showed Gwaynn how to calm the bees with a smoker and then gently remove the slats on which the bees formed their combs. The older man stressed slow, even movements, so as not to alarm the bees. Gwaynn watched as Leek extracted the first batch of honey with practiced ease.
“Most importantly, don’t panic,” Leek said as he watched Gwaynn remove a slat. “They’ll not sting you if you don’t panic…well mostly they won’t, every now and then you may get a rascal that will sting ya for no good reason, but mostly they’re as gentle as a lamb.”
Gwaynn was a bit nervous, especially the first time a number of bees landed on his unprotected arms, but they soon flew off without hurting him and his confidence grew. By the time they finished collecting Gwaynn was sure they would have enough honey to last them the entire month. That evening at supper, however, they all had honey on fresh made biscuits. Gwaynn ate more than his fair share, but no one seemed to mind and Leek even winked at him, proud of his honey. Finally, though, supper was over and Gwaynn excused himself, then without another word headed outside and over to Tar Kostek’s residence.
Gwaynn knocked softly but Kostek opened the door almost immediately and then motioned for Gwaynn to enter. Gwaynn moved past him, but Kostek paused at the door for a moment, checking to see if they were being observed. He spotted no obvious onlookers, and so he quickly closed the door.
Gwaynn moved inside a few feet, surprised at the large open space that dominated the interior. In fact, the entire dwelling was visible from the door and only consisted of three distinct areas. The largest area was obviously open for sparring, the floor was well padded and the walls around the room bristled with many different kinds of weapons. There were no windows, but a large fireplace did run along the north wall. There was another, smaller fireplace on the south wall, in what was obviously the kitchen. There were two chairs and an undersized table near the smaller fireplace, and a number of pots and pans hung from the low ceiling and walls. Directly above the kitchen was a loft, where Gwaynn could just make out a bed, with one lantern perched on a bedside table. Except for the many weapons, the place was very sparse.
Without a word Kostek moved from the door and from the wall took down two practice katas and tossed them to his new student. Gwaynn snatched them out of the air and checked them for weight and balance. Tar Kostek moved farther into the room and collected his own katas where they hung next to the fireplace.
“Master Sath taught you to use these I presume?” Kostek asked, and took up the “on guard” position.
“Yes, though I was not the most driven student at the time,” Gwaynn admitted and took up his place across from his new teacher.
“Well, let us see…” Kostek began, but stopped as Gwaynn attacked. It was a basic attack move that the Tar countered easily, but Gwaynn was nonplussed and smoothly moved into another attack, this one only a bit more sophisticated. Kostek turned it away also. Gwaynn kept coming however, and Kostek decided to let him. Effortlessly he blocked every move, never attacking himself, wanting instead to see just how far the boy could go. To his credit, Gwaynn never seemed to become impatient or frustrated, he just continued to attack relentlessly, even copying a move he had witnessed while watching Vio spar. This move did surprise Kostek, though he still blocked it with relative ease. Kostek waited until Gwaynn began repeating attacks before going on the offensive. Kostek quickly scored a number of hits but Gwaynn still showed no sign of becoming frustrated. The boy took the hits silently, but on the following attack Gwaynn copied the Tar’s moves with surprising skill. Kostek blocked the attack and used another even more intricate counter move that left Gwaynn sprawled on the ground. Without a word, Gwaynn jumped to his feet and once again took up the attack, and used a fair likeness of Kostek’s most recent counter attack. Only a slightly raised eyebrow showed the Tar’s surprise. The boy learned amazingly fast, and as far as Kostek could tell favored neither hand, which was impressive; most amateurs tended to favor one hand over another, however slightly.
Kostek repeated the counter attack, and was gratified that the boy managed to block it this time using nearly the same counter moves he had employed when Gwaynn had tried the move back on him.
“Excellent!” Kostek said, holding up his hands to pause the action. “For not being a driven student, Master Sath appears to have taught you at least the…” Gwaynn dove in to attack once more, this time using the counter he just learn with at least two variations, one of them quite subtle, and Kostek was sure that it would have worked on a student, but Kostek was a Tar, and blocked it and countered with another move both hard and fast. Gwaynn caught the right kata, but the left caught him in the back of the head and he pitched forward, but at the last minute he tucked into a roll, and was on his feet in an instant.
‘Youth’, Kostek thought with admiration, then had to move quickly to blunt another attack, this time an almost perfect imitation of the one he had just performed. Kostek was astounded! Then, on a whim decided to really see what the boy could learn. First he drove Gwaynn back with a flurry of moves, and then Kostek retreated to the far side of the practice area. But before Gwaynn could mount another attack, he launched one of his own, a master attack, using not only katas, he also incorporated several kicks which clearly surprised the boy, who took a hard heel to the chin. The kick launched Gwaynn into the air and he slid on his back half way to the kitchen. He got to his feet a little slower this time and Kostek smiled to himself, though ou
twardly he was careful to remain stoic. Through many years of teaching on the Temple Islands he’d observed early on that it was very hard to teach anything to an angry pupil, and smiles in combat, even mock combat, rarely induced anything but anger.
Gwaynn stood for a moment shaking his head, clearly stunned, then he took a deep breath and to Kostek’s utter amazement came at him with a flurry, kicks included almost exactly as they were used a moment before. The kicks were crude however, and did not connect with the master, but while Kostek was ducking from a kick, a well-aimed kata struck him in the shins. Kostek danced back, not injured, but well aware that the boy had scored a hit on him, and a planned hit at that.
“Very good,” Kostek said, astonished. Gwaynn should not have been able to score upon him…few students below third year ever scored a hit on a Tar, and it was very rare even for third year students.
They continued to practice for nearly an hour, Gwaynn attacking, Kostek blocking and counter attacking. Over and over Gwaynn mimicked the attacks and defensive moves Kostek demonstrated. The boy had remarkable body control, although it was his mental discipline and calm that utterly impressed the Tar. Kostek dropped the boy nearly a dozen times and did not take another hit himself, but there were a few more close calls which told him the first was no fluke. With time and hard work he now believed Gwaynn may be able to score against him regularly. Finally he called a halt to the session, Gwaynn was sweating profusely and his arms hung at his sides, betraying what the work out had cost him, and even Kostek, who was very fit, was beginning to feel the effects of fatigue.
“We must get your stamina up,” Kostek commented and Gwaynn nodded, having no trouble admitting he was exhausted. “You will run with us in the morning,” the Tar added and watched as Gwaynn broke into a grin.
The Black Horseman (The Temple Islands Series) Page 7