Assassin of the Heart: Book Two: The Temple Islands Series

by Richard Parker

  “If the Prince is in Massi, he is likely to flee to the Plateau,” Ja said. ‘It is what I would do.’

  “Pah! Don’t talk to me about the Prince until you find out where he is. Arden’s army stays here in Solarii. When I return from the audience with the High King, I will move to Cape, and then Manse if necessary,” the King answered with a growl, but he returned to his seat looking about for a bit more bread. “And find Navarra, I want him to kill Gwaynn once and for all. Weapons Master he calls himself,” Arsinol added then pointed his knife once again a Ja Brude.

  “Find Navarra!” he commanded.

  ǂ

  “You should have waited in Manse,” Sath said to Lonogan Bock as the two of them inspected the horses taken from the party of dead Executioners.

  “Yes, that was my first inclination as well,” Bock answered truthfully.

  “Well, why didn’t you? You put everything at risk by placing the Prince in danger as you did,” Sath continued.

  Bock smiled which made Sath frown and wonder just what his Captain was thinking. ‘A spy...a traitor!’ The thought appeared in Sath’s mind of its own accord but he could not truly embrace the notion.

  “Prince Gwaynn is a bit headstrong and not so easily controlled,” Bock replied.

  “He’s young, but he is the Prince and he needs to be protected, not led out onto the Plateau and into a fight with a group of Executioners.”

  “I agree,” Bock said and was surprised to find that he was not in the least bit perturbed by the dressing down he was receiving. It took him a moment to understand why. His allegiance had changed. Bock’s eyes widened as the realization took hold. Up until a week ago he was Sath’s man through and through and was completely in awe of the old Weapons Master. Now all that had changed. His respect for Sath was still present but his awe was now for a much younger man…as was his loyalty.

  “Master…” Bock said but was interrupted.

  “I trusted your judgment above all others,” Sath continued clearly angry. “I realize Gwaynn’s new Weapons Master must have great skill, but to allow him to lead the three of you into a fight with such long odds was irresponsible.”

  Bock smiled again making Sath’s temper flare even hotter, but before he could say anything Carmen rang a small bell.

  “Dinner!” She yelled.

  Sath looked over at Bock, again feeling for a brief moment like he was looking at a stranger.

  “We’ll talk some more about this,” Sath promised and led the way to the house.

  It took several moments to situate everyone. Nearly all of Sath’s men ate outside on a large sturdy table Rue and the boys carried out from the barn. Olney, Brace and Van joined the rowdy bunch outside, while his parents and the rest ate inside. Both tables were loaded with all varieties of food including boiled potatoes, onions, greens, several kinds of nuts and breads, pudding and centered by large amounts of venison cut fresh from the deer Bock killed the day before. The first few moments inside were chaotic as they all began to fill their plates at once. It took several minutes for everyone to be served and then the entire group ate in relative silence for a spell. The silence was occasionally interrupted by great whoops of laughter which filtered in through the open kitchen windows.

  Inside, Gwaynn was at one head, with Krys on his left and Afton Sath on the right, Rue sat at the other head with Carmen on his left and Lonogan Bock on his right. Samantha sat in the middle, facing the windows and the laughter, and Tanner, Sath’s third in command, sat across from her. Carmen smiled at the noises drifting in from the back lawn, though it seemed odd to her that such happiness could exist in a world so filled with pain.

  “Master Sath tells me that there is in fact no army,” Gwaynn commented to Krys, not out of spite or blame just out of the need to get started in the business of taking back his country.

  “No army?” Krys repeated loudly, clearly shocked. A hint of a smile came to Gwaynn’s lips. It was the reaction he anticipated.

  “Now just hold on…” Tanner started but stopped as he caught Sath’s eye. Tanner was a tall, fit man with broad shoulders and very rough hands. He sported a great shock of blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard to match. From what Gwaynn could gather he was an excellent leader, especially with horsemen and was said to have no equal with the lance on horseback. All of these traits made him highly prized in the young Prince’s estimation.

  “We have nowhere to hide an army at present,” Sath answered calmly, “but more importantly, no way to feed an army. Most of those who’ve come to the Plateau we’ve sent home or dispersed to wait for word. We planned to recall them when the time was right.”

  “I would say the time is right,” Gwaynn answered matching his master’s calm. He stared hard at Sath for a moment and then he glanced at Samantha, who caught his eye before looking away. “I’d like you to send out word that we’ll be forming an army and will take all volunteers.”

  “We do have nearly four hundred men and a few dozen horsemen hiding in the mountains west of Colchester,” Tanner offered, though Sath frowned at him.

  Gwaynn’s attention turned back to the cavalryman. “Trained men?” he asked.

  Tanner nodded, proud. “Yes, good strong men all…and some excellent horsemen.”

  “Good we’ll need them soon,” Gwaynn answered.

  Sath said nothing at first and Tanner just raised one eyebrow. Gwaynn caught the movement and stared coldly at the older man. Bock and Krys just exchanged looks knowingly.

  “Tanner,” he continued, “you were with my father, yes?”

  Tanner coughed and sat up straighter. “Not at the end. I was fighting near Graff,” he answered.

  Gwaynn nodded, closing his eyes for a brief moment. His father’s army was routed farther to the north near the small hamlet of Drake. ‘Drake,’ he thought. ‘That is where my father died…and my brothers.’ He said nothing while he drove away such thoughts.

  “You were far down the finger when I fled to Heron,” Gwaynn said vaguely.

  “Yes Sire,” Tanner answered wondering where this was heading.

  “How many men would we need to take and hold Manse?”

  “My Prince!” Sath exclaimed as silence fell across the table. Everyone sat stunned, with the exception of Krys and Bock. Samantha just smiled and nodded. Gwaynn caught her smile, which was radiant, and for a long moment had trouble pulling his gaze away.

  “We have no army,” Sath stated again.

  Gwaynn turned his cold eyes onto his old Master. “You will get me an army,” he stated flatly. “Three months…I will give you three months.”

  “Three…” Sath sputtered.

  “M’lord, even if we gathered the men in that amount of time. They would be ill trained and far from an army,” Tanner interjected.

  Gwaynn turned his eyes again on Sath’s Captain, who was a veteran of many battles. Up until now Tanner would have thought it impossible for one so young to unnerve him but he was growing increasingly uncomfortable under the Prince’s stare.

  “Tanner,” Gwaynn repeated. “How many men would we need to take and hold Manse?”

  Tanner swallowed and glanced briefly at Sath, who was bewildered. This boy next to him could not be Gwaynn. This was Arnot, Gwaynn’s father, and for the second time in the Prince’s presence Sath found himself out of time. Momentarily he was young again, back in his prime, and Arnot’s Weapons Master. Together they felt themselves untouchable.

  “The Deutzani have only a garrison there at present, no more than a couple hundred foot soldiers. We could take it now with my cavalry, but we could not hold it, not with the horsemen the Deutzani have on the Plateau.”

  “Do not forget that the enemy also has an army at Cape. An army nearly ten thousand strong,” Sath added, wondering how Gwaynn would handle this knowledge. The reaction was not what he expected.

  “You let me worry about the army at Cape,” Gwaynn answered with a dismissive wave. “How many?” he asked for the third time.

  Tan
ner took a sip of wine. “I would say two to three thousand at the very least…trained men if you want to hold it for any length of time.”

  “I do,” Gwaynn answered with a smile.

  “Good,” Samantha said briskly. “I grow sick of Deutzani rule.”

  Everyone looked at her, but she kept her head up…defiant and then briefly looked at Gwaynn. His eyes bore into her with such intensity that she was reminded of the Executioner. She repressed a shiver and her eyes fell to her plate.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Gwaynn added.

  “This will take time,” Sath said, but he was beginning to catch the fever spreading across the table. They would have to be careful. They would have to go undetected until they were ready to strike. If they were discovered too soon it would spell disaster.

  Gwaynn nodded. “I will give you time, but we will not dawdle. First we will take the Plateau and then we will take Manse,” he said with much more confidence than he felt. He had no experience with strategy or army building.

  He turned to his best friend and current Weapons Master. “Krys, how many men would it take to hold the pass at Lynndon?”

  Krys frowned, he too was not in his element and he’d not been to Lynndon in many, many years.

  “Not…not many…” he started but was interrupted.

  “Two hundred good men could hold it indefinitely,” Sam spoke up once more, “easily if they had an equal number of bowmen. It would take a large army to make their way up the trail if it was guarded by archers…it is very steep and very narrow.”

  Gwaynn looked toward her again, but she carefully avoided his eyes and looked to Krys instead.

  Lonogan nodded and barked a short laugh. “The girl is correct. Lynndon would be easy to hold as long as the attack is only coming from below.”

  “We will need to see that no attack could come from the Plateau first then Lynndon will be the least of our worries,” Sath added and turned to look directly at Samantha. “You say our men there are dead?”

  Samantha gave a small nod. “The Executioner killed them.”

  Sath frowned. “Killed them all?”

  “Yes, and Wake, the black smith.”

  “He killed Wake!” Krys said in surprise.

  “You knew Wake?” Samantha asked and Krys nodded.

  “He was a mighty fighter,” Bock added. “Not easy to kill.”

  “No,” Sath said, amazed. The Executioner Navarra had the reputation for being very, very skilled, and a cold-blooded killer, but to have killed five men alone…the man must have been uncommonly gifted. “Wake was a seasoned warrior and strong.”

  “The Executioner had dogs,” Samantha added and shivered…remembering.

  “How did you escape?” Gwaynn asked, his eyes never leaving the girl. He waited for her answer, thinking just how lovely she now looked.

  Samantha felt her face grow hot and knew she was flushed but she forced herself to look up and into Gwaynn’s face. “I jumped the Scar,” she said holding his gaze, enjoying his smile, if not his eyes.

  Tanner whistled and Krys gaped at her.

  “You…you jumped the Scar?” Sath asked, and Samantha nodded. Rue and Bock began to laugh.

  “I took one of his dogs with me, and killed it in the river below,” Samantha added pulling her eyes from Gwaynn’s to look at her Uncle.

  Now Tanner began to laugh. “That must have pissed him off.”

  Samantha grinned a little ruefully. “Not as much as waving to him from the river bank.”

  Now they all laughed except for Sath, who was still staring at her with incredulity.

  “I would like to hear the whole story sometime,” Gwaynn said to her, and she nodded, bowing her head once more, suddenly feeling shy.

  “He must have been a very dangerous man,” Sath said changing the subject and cutting a piece of venison. “Did you injure your leg killing him?” he asked, addressing Krys.

  Krys choked on his drink, sputtering and then smiled broadly. “Not me,” he said and then with a wag of his finger he pointed at Gwaynn. “He’s the killer.”

  Sath stared at the now smiling Gwaynn for a long, long moment. “You…” he said suddenly feeling like he was sitting between two children he no longer knew. ‘Samantha jumping from the Scar and Gwaynn a…a killer,’ he thought. “You killed the Executioner?”

  Gwaynn nodded.

  “He was wonderful,” Carmen said.

  “Yes,” Samantha added softly. “He was.”

  Gwaynn’s eyes tracked back to the girl, and found her staring at him curiously.

  “I would like to hear your whole story sometime,” she said to him, her eyes so large and green he could only nod. He began to eat to cover his nerves and when they were settled enough he turned to Lonogan Bock.

  “I would like you to ride to Cape,” Gwaynn began. “Take as many men as you deem necessary.”

  “Cape?” Bock asked, confused.

  Gwaynn nodded. “I want you to fetch the Speaker who’s said to be there.”

  “Zebo,” Tanner said loudly, “that’s his name.”

  Bock nodded. “I know him, but it won’t be easy getting him free of the Deutzani, not if they have an entire army within the city walls.”

  “I have confidence in you,” Gwaynn answered.

  Bock nodded.

  “Bring him. I’ll be waiting.”

  Gwaynn then turned to Sath, who was looking down into his plate and frowning.

  “Master,” he said quietly. “I need you to begin spreading the word. Tell the people their Prince has returned. We need men. We need supplies. We need all volunteers.”

  Sath nodded, stunned by the strength in the boy. This new Gwaynn did not coincide with the old man’s memories of the boy, memories of him sitting in the grass on warm days playing with flowers when he should have been practicing with his kali…flowers for god’s sake.

  “I volunteer,” Samantha said softly. Gwaynn looked up and stared at Samantha for a moment and she stared back fiercely, her expression daring him to reject her. But Gwaynn had no such thoughts, for in his mind’s eye he saw her, filthy and bloody, wildly cutting the head from the body of the dead Executioner.

  “Accepted,” he answered with only a touch of a grin on his face.

  ǂ

  High Tar Nacht watched as the two combatants fought in the arena below. The crowd clearly favored the young woman and cheered as she sliced into Tar Wazzner’s right shoulder. The old Tar stumbled away, just managing to block a killing blow aimed for his throat. This was the third challenge to Tar Wazzner’s title in the past two years. Through experience and guile he managed to defeat the previous two hopefuls, but this new challenger looked to be making quick work of the aging Executioner. Wazzner was now bleeding from three wounds, the one in his left side serious and he was having great difficulty keeping Cyn de Baard at bay.

  Tar Nacht smiled. Perhaps it was time for a new Tar, a new Executioner. Wazzner was growing weak and should be replaced. As if hearing the High Tar’s thoughts, Wazzner stumbled again and the point of a kali punctured his right bicep. An involuntary cry escaped him as he dropped his right kali in the dirt. He moved quickly backward to gain some distance between himself and his deadly opponent.

  ‘It would be easier if she wasn’t so lovely,’ Wazzner thought. The irony of losing his title and his life to a beautiful woman did not escape him; after all he’d built something of a reputation searching out attractive women, accusing them of a crime, and then privately executing them if they could not prove their innocence. To Wazzner, their guilt or innocence was truly of no consequence, for he enjoyed both parties with equal vigor, and if done properly, their executions could take days.

  He shuffled backward as Cyn attacked once more. This time he took a slash to the back of his left knee. He went down, holding up his remaining kali in defense but she easily knocked it aside and sliced through a third of his neck.

  Wazzner dropped his remaining weapon and clutched at his throat in a point
less attempt to stop the flow of blood, which was considerable. Cyn de Baard backed away without delivering another blow, opting to watch the spark of life flow out of her opponent slowly, rather than end it with one quick stroke.

  Tar Nacht smiled. She is worthy to take up the mantle of Tarina. Of course he’d known this since her return, when she brought in not just one ceremonial head…the head of her very first lover, but also that of his wife and child. He knew she had the mettle. Now, he knew she had the skill to be one of the thirty…and her skill chilled him.

  ‘She may be the one,’ he thought, wondering if she would truly be the Tarina to finally supplant him. Perhaps someday, but the High Tar was not ready to leave just yet. He would have to deal with this new threat from Massi…and soon.

  Wazzner sagged as more and more of his precious blood flowed out of him, but de Baard only watched until he was completely flat and prostate on the floor of the arena, the dirt around him turning black with blood. De Baard approached the dead Tar cautiously and checked to make sure that Wazzner was indeed of no threat and then she grabbed a handful of hair and sliced through the rest of his neck. She had to hack several times then twist to finally break the head free of the vertebrae. The crowd, which watched the end of the duel in relative silence, now exploded into cheers as she held up the head of the old Tar. Wazzner had been especially long lived for a Tar, having reached the fine old age of forty-six before meeting his doom. De Baard moved toward the front of the dais and High Tar Nacht. Several plebes rushed into the arena and hauled away the body and she handed the head to a third.

  “I want this mounted,” she said in a clear, strong voice, and the crowd broke into a new cheer.

  Nacht was on his feet, applauding with the others, but then moved to the isle and down a set of stairs to the arena floor.

  Cyn de Baard met him eye to eye for a moment before kneeling. The crowd hushed almost immediately.

  “Acolyte, you have met and defeated a Tar in the arena,” Tar Nacht said in a voice loud enough for all to hear. “You may now rise and become Tarina Cyn de Baard.”