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

by Richard Parker

  Gwaynn’s eyes were closed and his brow was furrowed in concentration. Cyndar, was close enough to Gwaynn to touch him, to smell him, or to quickly draw and plunge a kali into his chest if she so wished, but she just watched the young man curiously as he moved his hands and arms about like a Traveler. His forces…his army, if you could call it that, was in dire trouble. She looked up at him, fascinated. He was young, though she felt he was probably only three or four years her junior. She would have been shocked to know it was more like six. But despite his youth, he was tall and well built for his age and standing where she was, she could just make out the first soft blonde hairs on his face which would one day become chin whiskers.

  ‘He’s just a boy,’ she thought when suddenly his arm movements came to a stop and his hands fell to his side. She had no idea what they were waiting for, but there was something about this Massi Prince that called to her, held her still, along with the others. She found herself filled with curiosity. ‘Could this boy truly have killed Tar Navarra?’

  She watched him as his face slackened and his eyes grew still beneath his lids, apparently lost in thought. ‘It would be easy to kill him now,’ she thought, but still she did not move. She was not so old an Executioner that she would throw away her life for a kill. She wanted to live yet. She took a half a step closer to the Prince, studying him closely, wondering at his blank expression, wondering at his thoughts, when suddenly he came alert and looked down directly into her face.

  “Travel!” he yelled, wanting everyone to hurry, though again he took precious seconds to notice just how lovely Cyndar Huntley was as he spoke. The soft skin of her cheeks was pale and smooth, like cat’s cream poured into a bowl, and her eyes were beautifully wide and dark. She was close enough that he could make out the slight smell of cherry blossoms that emanated from her body. He smiled inwardly at her feminine beauty.

  ‘I hope she can fight,’ he thought, as the first of the hunger cramps attacked his midsection. He ignored them, they were not so strong. The surprise on Cyndar’s face was shared by nearly all around him, only Krys and Lonogan Bock seemed nonplussed by the statement.

  “Move!” Bock yelled after a brief glance around for the bridge. It was large and solid, directly south of them. He strode forward, Brandt directly behind him and the others followed. Krys remained with Gwaynn as he fought to hold the bridge open as the others passed through.

  “Let’s move,” Gwaynn said, trembling. “I can’t hold it much longer,” and together they moved through the bridge and up into the chaos which was the Plateau.

  ǂ

  ‘He’s a Traveler!’ de Baard thought, her shock greater than at any time in her life, and amidst the battle, which raged all around her, she wondered if this was the reason for the High King’s foolish actions.

  ‘They’ve taught a Prince to Travel,’ her mind continued to churn as she neatly parried a spear thrust at her and with a minimum of effort stabbed her left kali through her assailants exposed neck. She shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts. She caught sight of Lee Brandt slightly to her left, swinging his huge sword with great effectiveness as he slashed his way into a group of surprised Deutzani. The man Lonogan Bock was close by, also fighting well. de Baard looked about for Gwaynn Massi, but before she found him she was once again forced to defend herself. Another Deutzani died, and two more after that before she finally caught sight of the Weapons Master, Krys Logan. She watched as he killed the one he was fighting; his style favored neither hand. He was good, very good.

  ‘He would bear watching,’ she thought as she scrutinized the young Weapons Master’s technique further. As far as she could tell it was flawless. He moved sure and very fast, killing without hesitation.

  Another Deutzani strayed into her vicinity. He was good, and it took her several attempts to get through his guard, but in the end he died just as all the others who possessed less talent. When the area around her was free of immediate threats she searched once again for the Prince. Huntley was nearby, grunting and straining against two of his fellow Deutzani soldiers. She thought to go help, but then decided against it. Robert had just about outlived his usefulness now that she’d embedded herself in with the Massi army. Then on the far side of Huntley, she saw him, the Massi Prince. He fought and moved like no other, fast, fearless, aggressive, and totally in control.

  His body moved about like magic. No motion was wasted, no unnecessary feints. His movements were beyond grace; fluid, like water on a mountain, always downhill, always by the path of least resistance. He fought like sunlight itself, fast but without apparent effort. Soldiers fell around him like grass before a scythe. He killed and killed and killed. Her heart pounded in her chest and she wondered momentarily if this was love. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t pull her eyes away from him…and she wanted him.

  ‘Yes,’ she thought. ‘This must be love.’ Then, still watching him fight, she realized she would need help in killing Gwaynn Massi. ‘He is beyond me,’ she thought simply and it shook her to her core. Up until this moment she truly believed she was the best with kali in all the land and until now had little cause to doubt her abilities.

  de Baard broke out of her reverie and into a run, heading toward Robert Huntley, who was about to fall to the two men he’d fought against for so long. She dropped down to avoid an arrow streaking toward her. It flew harmlessly overhead, and would have missed in any case, but she rolled neatly back to her feet and hardly lost any time. She arrived just in time as Huntley took a kali through the right shoulder.

  He cried out and fell. de Baard frowned, and quickly killed the man who’d wounded her “brother.” The remaining soldier turned to face her, his face ugly with death and anger, but it was expression that quickly turned to pain as she removed his left hand then sliced open his belly.

  The wounded soldier screamed as his innards began to slither from his body. He added his voice to the symphony of pain and death that swelled from the field of battle. He placed his right hand over the wound and waved the stump of his left arm about in the air as he fell. de Baard was about to finish him when Huntley cried out, pointing. She spun around, crouching just a little, as fifteen Deutzani soldiers moved to attack her, attracted by the screams of their Sergeant.

  de Baard stood her ground fearlessly, not backing down, not retreating from Huntley, and though she was not aware of it, she had a small smile on her face. If the soldiers moving on her coordinated their attack, she would not last more than a few moments, but thankfully they arrived and attacked in a staggered formation. Even so, she was aware of the need to kill as quickly as possible. The first pair to attack died as planned, but the others seeing the quick demise of their comrades slowed and approached more cautiously. They began to circle around and as they did de Baard realized she was lost, even an Executioner could not defeat a dozen soldiers when they worked together.

  She waited, spinning constantly to keep those behind her at bay, mindful of Huntley who lay wounded at her feet. The Deutzani soldiers feinted and played with her, only occasionally driving in to truly cross weapons. When they did she managed to wound another before the tip of a sword found her right thigh. She staggered and almost fell, but made no noise. The soldiers grew bolder and bolder. She knew the end was near, when all at once a whirlwind of blades sliced through the men on her right.

  Gwaynn Massi arrived, fighting and spinning, slicing and hacking.

  “Back away,” he cried to her, but revitalized by his presence, she did no such thing and launched herself at the nearest soldier. She stabbed him hard through the nose cavity, the sound of breaking bones and gristle loud in her ears. He fell and she went after another. As she moved she was very aware of Gwaynn moving and killing to her left. When he moved, she moved, when he thrust out, she did likewise, their movements melded into harmony with one another. They moved in concert, synchronized, and her heart kept time to the pounding rhythm, as together they made love with death.

  She smiled broadly, almost laughe
d for she was in love, deeply in love. She caught her next man in the right bicep and he dropped his sword, defenseless. She smiled happily at him then drove first one kali into his chest, then the other up through his chin and into his brain. Her excitement grew as a body fell headless at Gwaynn’s feet. Each time he killed she felt a rush of warmth spread up from between her legs, and he was killing at an unconscious rate. Her neck and face were flushed as she killed the remaining man, driving her kali into him, penetrating his chest and thrusting the blade hard up into his heart. As he fell, she struggled to remove her weapon and had to give a mighty pull to free it from the carcass. She tripped and fell backwards to the ground from the effort. She tried to rise, but pain shot through her leg and she gave the smallest of cries.

  Someone moved over her and she looked up and saw Gwaynn smiling down at her. de Baard’s legs twitched and trembled at the sight of him. Gwaynn took one look at the surrounding area, ignoring the hunger pains that threatened to overwhelm him, but by some miracle the area was clear. The Deutzani attack on the left flank had been repulsed. He dropped to his knees beside de Baard, exhausted. She gazed at him, eyes feasting on his blood and sweat covered face. His wet hair hung close to her nose and mouth, and as he checked her wound and she inhaled the scent of him deeply. Gently, he reached down and touched her wounded leg and she trembled. Thinking it was from the pain, he glanced at her with worry. Their eyes locked and unable to control herself any longer she pulled his face toward her and kissed him long and hard. They broke apart but she reached for him and wrapped her arms around him. She hugged him tightly to her, and Gwaynn, exhausted to the point of collapse, leaned against her and closed his eyes. She shuddered then groaned, biting her lips to keep from crying out as a massive orgasm coursed through her body. It was her first and its power was beyond anything she ever imagined. Happiness spread over her face as she held her new love and it was exactly then that Samantha saw them together.

  XII

  “She won’t talk to me,” Gwaynn complained later that evening and wondered if there was something wrong with him for caring more about the actions of a girl than their latest battle…a battle they’d nearly lost. If not for the Toranado holding the left flank, he was quite sure they would have lost the bridge and been entirely wiped out.

  Krys smiled sympathetically. “She’s just mad and jealous. She’ll come around.”

  “Mad and jealous,” Gwaynn repeated, flopping down on his bunk. He was sharing a tent with Krys now, since Samantha decided to share with na Gall again.

  “Well…you did kiss Cyndar.”

  “She kissed me,” Gwaynn corrected indignantly. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. She was afraid, would have died without me. Her emotions just got the better of her.” Krys looked at him a bit skeptical.

  “She kissed me!” Gwaynn repeated loudly.

  Krys held up his hands in surrender. “Alright,” he began then smiled. “Do you think Samantha would have cared so much if Cyndar was ugly?”

  Gwaynn grimaced.

  “She is beautiful you know,” Krys went on. “Surely you noticed.”

  Gwaynn nodded reluctantly. “I noticed. All Samantha would say is, ‘I saw her face,’ like I have control over the woman’s expression.”

  “Emm says she was raped by Deutzani soldiers, but she killed them after,” Krys commented and removed his boots. His right foot still had old blood caked on the toes from having it stepped on by a Deutzani horse. Luckily there were no broken bones.

  “I believe that,” Gwaynn replied and took another apple from his pack and began to eat it. He was still not quite caught up from his Traveling exertions, though he was no longer painfully hungry. “Did you see her fight? She did quite well…says it was her father that trained her. He must have been very good.”

  Krys shook his head. “I didn’t see her, but there is something about her. She doesn’t seem like someone you would want to underestimate.”

  “And you fought well,” Gwaynn added rubbing his eyes. “We lost so many. Somehow it doesn’t feel like victory.” In all they lost nearly two hundred horses and over a thousand archers and foot soldiers.

  Krys nodded. “We were lucky. If Sath had not gotten the Toranado back up on the Plateau, it would have been much, much worse.”

  Gwaynn was quiet for a long time. “I don’t think I can do this…I’m no leader of armies.”

  Krys, whose thoughts had drifted to Emm leaned up on one elbow and looked over at his friend. “Who is, until they have to be?” he asked and when Gwaynn glanced at him he added. “You have to be.”

  Gwaynn dropped back on his bunk without feeling any better. He lay awake for a long time listening to Krys’ steady, even breathing. He went over the battle again and again in his mind until finally his mind landed on Samantha, then Cyndar and her kiss. When he finally slept the two women fought night battles for his soul.

  ǂ

  Word of the defeat at Manse reached King Arsinol a day after his army finally broke through the Gap. The Deutzani were marching quickly toward Eno to join with the Temple Knights and the Palmerrio who already held the city under siege.

  “What did you say?” the King asked Rovena, an impossibly short female Speaker who’d served his family for decades. He ignored the murmur that erupted from his Captains at the bad news.

  Rovena shuffled her feet, finding the thought of giving ill tidings before such a large group, disconcerting.

  “Winton contacted me. Rethwan reports that Manse has fallen to the Massi,” she answered quietly, glancing briefly around the table then at Ja Brude for help, but he just stared at her blankly. Together they all watched Arsinol’s face pulse and begin to turn red, which was never a good sign.

  “He had over five thousand men,” Brude said quickly, knowing that to avoid a large explosion from his lord he must release the pressure immediately before it had time to build. In this case however, an eruption might be inevitable. It didn’t seem possible for the Massi Prince to gather that much strength in such a short amount of time.

  “Rethwan reports that there were Toranado heavy infantry involved,” Rovena added, also leery of the impending danger from her King.

  Everyone at the table sat silent for a long moment, all shocked by the implications.

  “If the Toranado have placed an army behind us…” Arsinol mused to no one in particular.

  “Their main army was defeated at the Mac,” Brude insisted, but was also alarmed by the possibility.

  Arsinol began to pace the tent, thinking. ‘If Manse has fallen, the young whelp would control the Plateau and have a central base to build his forces quickly. That must be stopped…and if he had help from the Toranado…’

  “What of our loses?” Brude asked.

  Rovena shuffled about to such an extent that Arsinol became impatient.

  “Speak up woman!” He shouted so loudly that she jumped. Tears sprang into her eyes as she fought for composure.

  “Rethwan states that he lost more than half his force,” she finally managed to say.

  “Half…” Arsinol sputtered.

  “Manse has been put to fire, and is gutted,” Rovena added quickly, involuntarily backing away a few feet. “Rethwan has relocated to Cape and requests support from Prince Arden.”

  “Relocated,” the King sneered, then began to pace once more, thinking.

  “We must return to Massi,” a voice spoke up from the table. Surprisingly it was Captain Jann Laboray. Arsinol frowned; rarely did any of his Captains offer advice without being asked. The situation, though not desperate, must at least be considered serious for any of his Captains to put their own judgment on the line.

  “And what would you have me tell the High King?” Arsinol asked and was disgusted to see Laboray shrink back into himself, clearly regretting speaking. After a moment of silence Arsinol moved closer to the Captain. He leaned over and placed his hands on the table before the man. The King bent down so that his face was a mere foot from the Captain.


  “Well?” he asked quietly.

  Laboray coughed and adjusted his seat. “The bulk of the Toranado army was defeated at the Mac. The Temple Knights no longer face any real threat. It does not take three armies to lay siege to Eno.”

  Arsinol raised an eyebrow. “Very good Captain, and if the Toranado are aiding the Massi, the real threat may well come from there.”

  Laboray nodded, relieved and happy, though he was very careful to show no emotion.

  “Should we contact Prince Arden?” Ja Brude asked, once the immediate threat of an explosion from the King had passed.

  Arsinol shook his head. Arden, his eldest son, manned an army of nearly seven thousand at Solarii, though he had only a couple of hundred heavy horse under him. Arsinol would not allow the Prince to have a larger force. Arden was becoming ambitious…too ambitious, and might be inclined to speed up the act of succession. No, Arsinol would only grant him a force large enough to control the Massi peninsula and no more. Even then, Arsinol selected Captain Fors to lead Arden’s army because he was very loyal and would always answer directly to the King.

  “Yes…to warn him, but I’d not move Arden south. We must control Solarii and the “finger of Massi,” Arsinol said to no one in particular. “The Massi rabble will now flock to their Prince…his power will grow quickly.”

  Arsinol then turned to his Captains. “Prepare your men. We march back to Massi at full speed tomorrow morning.”

  There was a rustle of movement as the men all stood and made their leave, Arsinol giving Captain Laboray an individual nod.

  “How many men does Laboray command?” the King asked Ja Brude after his men were gone.

  Ja had to check the books. “Four thousand, half archers and half heavy infantry.”