Gwaynn, however, was oblivious to the changes blasting their way through his fighting partner’s psyche. He was only cognizant of the fact that Tabernas was fighting well and protecting his right flank. And the longer he fought the more his confidence grew that no threat or danger would come from the Toranado Weapons Masters area. The knowledge allowed Gwaynn to fight with even more freedom and abandon.
They were actually in the midst of a small lull when Gwaynn first became aware of the acrid smell of burning wood and pitch. He glanced quickly back to the bridge and saw that it was burning in several places, but it was still very much intact. The bridge just to the north, however, was nearly engulfed in flames, and the men in the area were already backing up in retreat and they were being pressed closely by the Palmerrio, but were not yet in danger of being cut off.
Warning shouts suddenly sounded around him and Gwaynn quickly shifted his attention and caught sight of a large group of Palmerrio soldiers rounding some nearby buildings. Without hesitation they came charging directly at him.
“Hold your ground!” He ordered the Toranado men around him, but it was unnecessary for they were all hard fighting men and were not going anywhere until their duty was done. Gwaynn twirled his kali for balance and then gave a sly smile to Tabernas, who was watching him with an air of comradeship. They stepped forward together and engaged the first of the on rushing men. Beneath their blades the Palmerrio died in droves, though one did managed to slip past Gwaynn’s guard and superficially slice open a cut in his left side, just below the ribs. It was a painful reminder that anyone with a kali was potentially dangerous no matter what their skill level. Gwaynn stepped up his attack and killed the next few with more ruthlessness. The area was clearing once again and he was about to check on the bridge one more time when a volley of arrows suddenly fell all around the area. The Palmerrio archers had finally arrived, though their exact whereabouts was hidden from Gwaynn by the maze of buildings. Screams sounded as Toranado soldiers fell from arrow strikes near Gwaynn’s position. He backpedaled away from the threat, followed closely by Tabernas.
Gwaynn turned again and quickly checked the bridge as a new volley of arrows flew over his head, this time they came from the Toranado archers and flew into the direction of their enemy counterparts. An archer’s battle immediately erupted.
The bridge was burning readily, but still could be crossed with only a little danger. It was currently crowded with fleeing men, though enough were still holding their ground to allow for a semi-orderly retreat. Gwaynn took up position directly at the bridgehead, Tabernas still at his side, but of Krys he could see nothing. A few more soldiers charged his position and quickly died before shouts came from the far side, encouraging them all to retreat to safety. Gwaynn held his ground as the others moved off. The battle of the archers was still underway, so that only a few arrows now flew in his direction; occasionally however, one would streak by.
“Leave…now!” he shouted to Tabernas and killed a slow, fat soldier who had no business challenging anyone. The Weapons Master turned and ran off without another word. Gwaynn fought off another pair of attackers then turned and sprinted across the bridge which was now engulfed in flames. Twice arrows fell around him but missed and were lost in the smoke, but Gwaynn was only vaguely aware of the threat, the heat from the fire was garnering all his attention. Near the half way point, Gwaynn sheathed his kali and was forced to hold his arms up to protect his face from the heat emanating from the burning deck of the bridge. Even with his arms as protection he was still forced to close his eyes and hold his breath against the sting of smoke. He ran hard and fast, past the worst of the fire and was able to open his eyes slightly, though they were still watering heavily. He saw Tabernas rush across the far side safely. The Toranado swordsman immediately turned around to watch Gwaynn’s progress. Gwaynn motioned that he was all right when a plank suddenly gave way beneath him and his right leg plunged down into the opening. Pain shot through him as sharp wooden splinters pierced his leg just above the knee and for a moment Gwaynn remained motionless from the shock of the abrupt injury. He looked up, grimacing. Luckily the fire was not intense in his general vicinity, but the flames were growing at an alarming rate all around him.
Tabernas immediately began to move back out onto the bridge. Gwaynn braced himself with his hands, and could readily feel the heat coming off the planks beneath his palms as he tried to pull his leg from the hole. His leg moved slightly and a new explosive pain rocked through his body. Gwaynn cried out involuntarily and eased himself back down just as an arrow buried itself in the bridge with an ominous thunk. Moments later, arrows were raining down onto the bridge with regularity, though miraculously not one hit him. He tried again to pull himself out, gritting his teeth against the pain. This time he managed to move his leg back away from the jagged edge of the shattered plank and free himself from the wooden trap. He rolled over on his back just as an arrow slammed into the bridge, inches from his head. He flipped back over and hoisted himself to his feet, keeping his injured leg straight against the pain knifing through his knee. He hobbled a few steps before Tabernas reached him. The Toranado Master quickly hoisted the Prince higher and pulled Gwaynn’s left arm around his neck for support, then the two set off at a surprisingly quick pace. The flames were more intense now, but the smoke was being driven off to the south, allowing for a relatively clear view of the way ahead. Arrows continued to fall sporadically around them, but they both ignored the threat. Near the far side of the bridge, Gwaynn looked around for Krys but spotted Samantha on a slight ridge. She was running in his direction.
He smiled and raised his right arm, trying to signal that he was fine, when suddenly and arrow flew out of the smoke darkened sky and burrowed deep into her body. He could see the shaft clearly sticking from her, and time slowed for them both. He stared in shock as her expression went blank and she fell, disappearing on the far side of the grassy bank.
ǂ
Robert Huntley’s infection grew worse and his fever was raging out of control when Avery Brooks, the Toranado doctor, checked him near nightfall almost a week after the battle for Manse. The wounded man was covered in sweat and when the bandages were removed from his shoulder, the sickly sweet smell of corruption assailed the doctor’s nostrils.
‘This man is dead,’ Brooks thought, for there was little more he could do. He kept his face carefully composed, for the injured man’s sister sat not far away, clearly fretting over her brother’s life.
If the wound had been in the arm he could have amputated the limb before the corruption reached his heart, but here in the shoulder, it was already too late. He picked up a rag and applied gentle pressure to the wound, pus oozed out of it freely. He pressed harder and the wounded man’s eyes flashed open and he screamed.
“You must kill him!” Huntley yelled, clearly delirious, as he tried weakly to fight off the doctor’s ministrations. The doctor pulled back the rag and attempted to settle the man down, aware that the sister was up and moving toward them worriedly. He glanced at her and his eyes mutinously following the contours of her body which were readily visible through the thin nightdress she was wearing. He’d trained on the Isle of Helles, and though he did not attain the rank of Surgeon, he was still honored enough to become “doctor.” It was part of the basic teachings of the island that those who healed must not use their intimacy with their patients in a dishonorable way; such intimacy also pertained to the patient’s family. Still, he had a hard time keeping his eyes from the sister…Cyndar’s long lines and gentle curves were hard to resist. He knew he would not hold out long if she directed her charms at him, but as it was she had the air of impatience about her, as if he were a guest who’d outstayed his welcome.
“You must kill him!” Robert yelled again and this time he managed to pull himself up. He stared past the doctor and directly at his sister, and his eyes suddenly became clear.
“Kill him!” he repeated and for a brief moment the doctor thought the wounded man
meant him.
“Before his army grows too strong…before it grows too strong!” he yelled near the top of his lungs and collapsed on the bed. He mumbled a few more times and then drifted into unconsciousness.
The doctor, shaken by the outburst, quickly bandaged the wound again, then stood and faced the young woman. His eyes lingered on the swell of her breasts for a split second before finding her face.
‘A very lovely face,’ he thought, then cleared his throat.
“There is not much hope,” he said simply, wanting to reach for her, to take her in his arms, to kiss her, but such hopes were not for her comfort, so he resisted. “He may live out the night, maybe tomorrow night, but he will not last much longer.”
“Thank you doctor,” Cyndar said evenly, and the doctor was proud of her for being so brave. “I will do what I can to ease his passing.”
Doctor Avery smiled, and boldly reached out and patted her hand. Her skin was soft and warm and sent an electric current through his body. He tried not to shiver and failed, then smiled at his own weakness.
“Call me if it becomes too much and I will sit with him at the end,” the doctor said and turned to go. When he was half way out the door Robert mumbled loudly. “You must kill the Prince!” Avery paused and then continued on his way, troubled.
de Baard closed the door quickly behind him. She’d wondered if the lecherous man was ever going to leave. Here on the pretense of checking his patient but all the time ogling her body.
‘It’s a wonder he wasn’t sporting an erection,’ she thought as she glided silently toward the window. His desire may save her however, and it would not be the first time a man made such a mistake.
She put out the lantern and waited until she spotted the doctor’s horse and buggy moving up the road toward the center of camp, then she turned and moved back to Robert’s bedside. She gazed down at him in the semi-darkness. He was sleeping fitfully once more, but even in sleep she could hear him muttering about death.
‘Death!’ she thought. ‘If that is what he desires.’ She cocked her head, still looking down at her ‘brother.’ He’d become a danger, but no more. She grabbed one of his shirts from the bedpost then hiked up her nightshirt over her bare hips and with an easy motion dropped her weight down onto the sick man. He groaned but did not open his eyes as she placed her bare behind on his chest. His head was now cradled between her naked thighs and her crotch was inches from his face. She raised her fist and slammed it down on the bandage covering his wound. His eyes flew open, and he started to scream but it came out muffled as she stuffed a section of his shirt into his open mouth. She moved quickly now, stuffing more and more of the shirt in until it was far down his throat, then with a smile she reached her left hand up and pinched his nose closed. Ordinarily he would have had the strength to throw her off easily, but in his weakened condition she hardly had to fight to retain her balance.
“Isn’t this where you always wanted to be?” she crooned at him and gave his head a little squeeze with her legs. He fought a little harder then and she laughed, watching his upper lip quiver slightly. His eyes seemed to clear at the end, almost seeing her smile, before suddenly they went blank and stared lifelessly up at her.
‘What a disappointment,’ she thought. “Finally naked in your bed and that’s all the fight you could give me,” she whispered at his dead body, still holding his nose. She remained where she was for several more minutes, wanting to be sure, then eased off of him. She pulled the shirt from his mouth, surprised at how much of it she had managed to work down his throat then she hung it up neatly so that it would dry. She pulled the rumpled covers back up over Robert and tucked them in neatly and then she took off her nightshirt and slipped into her own bed. She pulled the covers up to her chin, smiling happily. She moved about briefly, snuggling deeper into the soft bed, then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, thinking of Gwaynn, unaware that the fingers of her right hand were gently stroking her own soft skin.
ǂ
“The Deutzani have nearly a thousand cavalry guarding the eastern side of the Scar Gap,” Bock informed Sath a little breathlessly, having just arrived in Manse after a hard ride back from the northwest.
The old Weapons Master shook his head at the news. “We could only hope Arsinol would be so foolish, but he is not stupid…rash and overzealous perhaps, but not stupid.”
“It was worth the ride,” Bock added pacing the tent, and drinking a large mug of water. “The plains appear to be free of Deutzani, and word of Gwaynn is everywhere and spreading.”
This time Sath smiled. “Yes, we will need your organizational skills here now. We’re getting two to three hundred men arriving everyday…many were soldiers under Arnot. When the Prince returns, he will be pleasantly surprised.”
“Still in Eno?”
Sath nodded not even bothering to hide his concern. “We’ve heard nothing yet, but he’s not due back until this evening.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Bock added finding it inconceivable that anything could happen to the young Prince.
“Anyone can die,” Sath reminded him as a warning.
Bock immediately sobered and couldn’t help but wonder how many new volunteers they would get without the help of Gwaynn’s royal blood. “What do you need of me?”
Sath smiled once more. “Food, to feed thousands and weapons, to kill thousands.”
Bock smiled back. “We have a plan?”
Sath nodded slowly. “We have a plan.”
“Then I’ll see what I can do.” Bock turned to leave. He wanted to find something to eat, then to clean up and possible get some sleep. Food he could count on, but sleep he knew was not likely.
He nearly bumped into Doctor Brooks as he exited the tent.
“So sorry,” the Toranado man said as he moved past Bock and poked his head into Afton Sath’s tent. He was a bit nervous about the coming encounter, after all the Massi Weapons Master was an old legend with the sword, having near Tar abilities it was said.
“Master Sath,” he said, but still did not enter the tent. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you.”
“Yes, yes,” Sath said looking up, trying desperately to remember the man’s name, but failing. “Come in…doctor.”
Avery stepped timidly into the tent and glanced around at the many weapons strewn about.
“What can I do for you?” Sath asked when it appeared the man was not going to explain his presence anytime soon.
“I went see Huntley, Robert Huntley. He’s out at the mill,” the doctor began. Sath fought hard to curb his impatience. He’d never heard of a Robert Huntley and couldn’t imagine why this would interest him.
“He’s dying from infection,” the doctor continued and Sath immediately regretted his earlier irritation. “Last night he was feverish and ranting, shouting at his sister to kill someone.”
“His sister?”
“Cyndar Huntley,” the doctor explained and wave of recognition rushed over Sath. Yes, he knew of Cyndar. She was the beauty who sometimes wandered the camp, effortlessly pulling every man’s attention her way…even his own. He might be old, but he wasn’t covered with dirt just yet.
“I know her,” Sath said and smiled as the doctor flushed.
“Yes…well at first I thought it was just the ravings of an infected mind as he yelled ‘Kill him! Kill him!’ I even thought he might mean me for a moment,” the doctor explained. Sath just nodded, encouraging the man to continue.
“But then he said something that bothered me through the night,” Avery added. “He said ‘Kill him before his army grows too strong,’ and then just as I was leaving he mumbled. ‘You must kill the Prince.’
Sath remained quiet for a moment, considering the possibilities. For his part, the doctor just waited patiently.
“It could just have been the fever talking,” Sath said, thinking aloud.
The doctor nodded. “That is a possibility,” he answered.
“And the other possib
ility?” Sath asked.
“That’s why I came to you,” Avery added.
“I’m glad you did. Have you spoken with the man this morning? Perhaps he is more lucid,” Sath suggested almost hopefully.
“My thoughts exactly, but it seems he died in the night.”
Both men remained silent for several minutes, contemplating what to do next.
‘One thing is for sure, I will be speaking with the lovely Cyndar Huntley,’ Sath thought.
“I thank you doctor,” he said by way of dismissal, but the doctor’s visit was on his mind well after the man had gone.
ǂ
The pain in his leg disappeared as Gwaynn and Tabernas struggled to the top of bank. Gwaynn’s stomach was doing flip after flip and he was afraid he was going to be sick.
‘Not her! Not her too!’ his mind screamed, but he held out little hope. He saw the shaft of the arrow sticking plainly from her body as she fell. All around them the battle still raged, the bridges still burned and arrows still fell from the sky, but Gwaynn was aware of none of this. As he limped forward Gwaynn’s only thought was of the girl he loved. He knew that after only a few more steps he would be looking down at the dead body of the person he cared most about but still he moved on with sick fascination. And as he climbed the bank, hate and anger began to swell in him uncontrollably.
But he was wrong. They staggered up the hill and as they made the summit, Gwaynn heard Samantha, still alive. Nothing had ever sounded quite so sweet to his ears, as her cries of pain. His eyes tracked to her body instantly and a wave of relief coursed through him. The arrow shaft was still there, sticking up from her body, but it was embedded in her upper thigh. In fact, it punched clear through the outer part of her right thigh so that the bloody arrowhead was clearly visible. Despite his own wound, Gwaynn was by her side within moments.
Assassin of the Heart: Book Two: The Temple Islands Series Page 29