“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she said lying on her side, holding up a hand to him as he gingerly dropped to the ground. Her hand was bloody from exploring her wound. He didn’t notice, not even when she caressed his face.
“Don’t,” he said and began to check her wound. It looked bad, painful. Tabernas knelt next to him and gently straightened her leg. She bit her lip against the pain the movement caused her. The older man’s fingers then explored the entry then exit wound before finally exhaling with relief.
“I believe it missed the artery,” he said, then glanced about at the chaos that surrounded them.
“We need to get both of you out of here,” the Toranado Weapons Master said as a bloody, sweaty Krys Logan ran up to them, taking in first Samantha’s wound then Gwaynn’s.
Krys mumbled something under his breath. “We haven’t much time. The bridges are down but there are Temple Knights here now. They’re attacking the entire length of the creek.”
Tabernas nodded, knowing that the high steep banks of the creek would not hold the Knights up for long.
“We have to get moving,” Tabernas said and put an arm around Samantha and began to hoist her to her feet. He stopped as she screamed loudly in his ear. He lowered her gently back to the ground.
“Get him up,” he said to Krys, indicating Gwaynn. “Come Samantha we have to start moving now. The creek will not hold them back.”
Krys reached down and helped his friend to his feet and started to move toward the keep but Gwaynn stopped him.
“Wait,” he said simply, then closed his eyes. His left arm was still around Krys for support, but he closed his eyes and concentrated on going through the twenty-nine steps mentally. For several minutes nothing happened and Tabernas fidgeted uncomfortably.
“We must…”
“Quiet!” Krys hissed at him, knowing what Gwaynn was attempting, but having no idea how he was doing it.
‘He’s a Traveler!’ he thought to himself feeling pride and awe for his King.
Tabernas stood up assessing the situation around them. What he saw was not encouraging and he was about to say so when suddenly a bridge popped up soundlessly in front of him. Inside the bubble, the Queen looked at them in surprise, but the Traveler na Gall quickly moved forward until she filled the space. She turned her head and was moving her lips; obviously speaking to someone, then all at once four armed men came running across and onto the bank. One helped Krys support Gwaynn, while the other three lifted Samantha with as much care as they could muster. She still cried out as her leg was moved, but they ignored her and without any hesitation moved her through the bridge. When the man supporting him made to follow, Gwaynn stiffened.
“No, I need to be last,” he said as other wounded men shuffled rapidly toward him and the bridge.
“I can hold,” he said to Krys and the Weapons Master nodded.
“Get them through!” Krys shouted, his voice pulling Tabernas out of his shocked stupor. He signaled the closest men, who needed no further encouragement, then more appeared until there was a growing line of wounded limping, climbing or crawling their way toward the safety of the bridge and hope.
Gwaynn concentrated on holding the way to safety open, but he could feel it becoming shaky, then the power of na Gall joined him and he felt the bridge strengthen. More and more men struggled past and into the relative safety of the keep before Gwaynn finally felt his concentration waning.
“Let’s go,” he told Krys. “Tabernas!” he yelled and the Toranado Weapons Master instantly streaked by them and through the bridge with Gwaynn and his supporting cast at his side.
Gwaynn’s relief at having his two halves rejoined was tempered by the necessity of leaving wounded men behind. He glanced about for Samantha but she was nowhere to be found; he did however, find na Gall and was surprised that she was holding another bridge open. Within moments more and more Toranado wounded poured through it.
“Get him to the physician,” the Queen said bending down to inspect Gwaynn’s wound as he was gently moved to a stretcher.
“Did we hold long enough?” he asked as he was being carried away.
Ramona actually laughed. “More than enough…nearly three hours. You made the Palmerrio pay dearly.”
‘Three hours,’ Gwaynn thought and dropped his head back as the men carrying him moved off the balcony and into the inner keep. As he rode the stretcher through the halls he wondered if he would see Samantha soon.
XIV
Afton Sath was a bit surprised when the bridge appeared and only Krys, Prince Phillip and Alba Tabernas walked through it, but the young Massi Weapons Master quickly explained that both Gwaynn and Samantha would be joining them in Manse the next day. Gwaynn’s wound would heal rapidly and Samantha, though in pain, would most likely make a complete recovery. Gwaynn remained at her side during the entire procedure to remove the arrow. It came out quickly though Samantha had to bite down on an old piece of rawhide to keep from crying out. It looked bad and oozed thick red blood but after a thorough cleaning the Toranado physician believed there was little chance of infection. He did caution however, that the arrow passed through a good deal of muscle and it would take time and patience for her former mobility to be restored.
“I’ll remain in Eno until the Prince returns,” na Gall informed Master Sath, who was clearly worried but he realized that the Queen’s surgeon could undoubtedly give them the best care for their injuries.
“They’ll be fine Afton,” Ramona promised. She could clearly see the worry etched on the old man’s face.
Master Sath nodded but made no reply and moments later the bridge closed.
“I’ve a surprise for you Master Sath,” Prince Phillip said a little bitterly, once the connection was severed.
Sath raised an eyebrow as they moved into the main command tent.
“My mother is sending seven thousand marines to Massi, along with half the Toranado fleet,” he continued and Sath could sense that the young man did not agree with the decision.
“Seven thousand…” Sath repeated, truly surprised. Phillip turned and smiled at him despite his own misgivings.
“Yes,” he said nodding. “The city itself has fallen, and it will take far fewer troops to hold the fortress. Mother feels the extra marines could be put to better use here in Massi.”
“How long can the fortress hold?”
Phillip shrugged. “The city fell much sooner than expected, but Mother and Admiral Cantu are positive they can hold the fortress indefinitely. I just wish she’d keep the entire fleet close…just in case.”
“na Gall will get her out if it comes to that,” Tabernas spoke up from where he was sitting, legs stretched out, perfectly at home. “I see your preparations for dealing with the Deutzani are moving along well.”
“Umm…yes,” Sath said glancing at his Toranado counterpart. He was not sure he liked the lean, effeminate Weapons Master all that well…but the man could fight, there was no denying that. “Seven thousand marines…” he repeated and then turned back to Prince Phillip.
“Where will they land?”
Phillip shrugged. “Northeast of Cape is the plan, then cross country to link with us.”
“I may have a different idea for them,” Sath said thoughtfully, then called for a messenger. He handed her a packet of papers and said. “I need Zebo to return from Lynndon at all speed.” The slight woman nodded that she understood. Sath recognized her as one of the fastest riders in camp. “We’ll have need of him soon I think,” he added absently. The woman bowed and quickly left. He knew she would start out directly though the evening was beginning to grow dark
“Your marines may just be the perfect lid for the trap I’m planning,” he said and proceeded to fill them in. Later, after they’d gone, he sighed, resting for a moment then stood. He’d been putting the Huntley business off for too long. It was time to confront the woman about the information supplied by the good doctor.
Sath poked his head from the tent and was sur
prised to find that it was raining heavily, and though the sound of the downpour could be clearly heard on the stretched canvas, up until this very moment, he’d been completely unaware of it.
Sath frowned and pulled his thick woolen cape tighter around his body. The damp was beginning to bother him more severely of late, but he took a deep breath and moved out into the wet, muddy landscape.
The walk was easy despite rain which let up slightly, although the bridge over the Scar was wet and slick. He crossed with a great deal of caution and was relieved when he made it safely to the other side.
‘I must make this quick,’ he thought, ‘and be back indoors, this weather is too dangerous for my old bones.’
He walked near the Scar, watching as the shower caused hundreds of ripples in the water below and wondered if the rain was not a blessing. The Deutzani would have to travel through it if they were to attack their position.
‘Tomorrow we need to put out more scouts. If the Zani traveled at speed they could arrive within the next two or three days,’ he thought, but did not expect it. The Deutzani army had already marched many miles and fought their way once through the Gap. They would be tired and he did not think Arsinol would be so short sighted as to rush a tired army into battle no matter how sure he was of victory.
Sath heard the mill’s large water wheels turning well before he could see the building through the rain. When he finally spotted the building only a dozen yards away he sighed and tried to increase his pace. He didn’t think he succeeded and was relieved when he walked into the relatively warm space of the main floor…at least it was dry.
Sath shuffled quickly into the interior, feeling better, warmer with every step. He looked about for Bock and Lee Brandt, but did not see either. There were only a few men working on this side of the mill, and Sath considered moving deeper inside to look for his friend, but in the end decided against it. He’d have to explain what he was doing, and if the Huntley girl was innocent…then her name would still go untarnished. So instead he headed directly for the stairs and up toward the main apartments. He knew his way around the mill having stayed in these very rooms many times over the years, especially within the last few.
He checked Bock’s room first, but it was empty and then moved quietly down the hall to the far end where he suspected the Huntley’s would be staying. There was no lock on the door and after a quick knock went unanswered, Sath gently opened it and stepped inside. It was dark, but he soon found a small lantern and lit it. The room was neat and tidy with no evident belongings in plain sight. There were two small beds, both of them made up tight. He moved farther into the room and placed the lantern on a small chest of drawers positioned against the far wall next to the window. He took a moment and glanced around. Nothing amiss. He turned back and opened the top drawer but only found a few things which were obviously Robert’s, two shirts and single pair of pants, plus a couple of pairs of thick woolen socks.
The next drawer was completely empty, and the third was nearly full of more feminine clothing, including several shirts, black pants and a few silken undergarments. The soft smell of flowers drifted up from the contents, making Sath smile.
‘Cyndar is lovely,’ he thought and partially closed the drawer. He stood and looked about the room once more. Again nothing caught his eye. He knelt slowly and looked under each bed, but again came up empty, but before standing, he noticed a thin black case on the floor behind the chest of drawers. Sath stood up slowly and moved around to the side of the chest, reached out and pulled the case from where it rested. His breathing was coming a bit faster as he moved across the room and placed it on the closest bed. He fumbled with the straps for moment before releasing them and then pulled the case open. Inside he saw a pair of black robes trimmed in red; the signature robes of an Executioner. He stood up slowly, holding the robes up before him.
“You’ve been going through my under things,” a soft voice said from the door, surprising the old Weapons Master.
Sath instantly recognized the voice, but even before he could look up to see that it was Cyndar, a needle knife was racing across the room. It sliced neatly through the robe he was holding and plunged through his chest and into his heart. He swayed slightly for what seemed like minutes.
‘Executioner!’ he thought and opened his mouth to scream out a warning, but his muscles did not want to work properly.
“Poison,” de Baard said softly and moved slowly into the room. She even turned her back on the Weapons Master to ensure that the door latch was completely closed; something the old man had neglected to do.
Sath continued to sway a moment longer then fell to his knees. Cyndar knelt down next to him, though she was very careful to remain out of arm’s reach…just in case.
“I see the doctor has been a bit glib with his information,” she crooned at the dying man.
Sath’s eyes widened involuntarily.
de Baard smiled. “So much for a patient’s confidentiality,” she playfully reproached, then leaned in a bit closer. It would not be long now and the old man would be dead.
“I’m going to have the young Prince of yours,” she promised softly, “in more ways than one.”
Anger surged through Sath and with it, adrenaline. With a mighty effort he managed to clear one kali from its sheath, but then he pitched forward, dead.
“Impressive,” de Baard said to the corpse, but did not approach any closer. She would wait until she was sure, instead she stood and moved to the chest and gently closed all the drawers tightly.
She sauntered over to the far bed, away from the Weapons Master and sat looking down at the man on the floor. He was the first Weapons Master she’d faced and killed and she was surprised that she did not feel any satisfaction from his demise. After a moment of reflection however, she decided that it was probably because of Sath’s old age. There was no real challenge in killing a man that could barely walk…legend or not.
She shrugged to herself and stood up and moved noiselessly closer to the body. When she was within range she quickly planted a foot on the wrist which still held the kali and pressed down hard, then with utmost care bent and checked the pulse at the neck. It was absent, so she removed the kali and flipped the body over. Sath stared vacantly up at her as de Baard cursed softly. The needle knife had ripped a whole in her clothes, and though the wound had not bled freely, all of it was now located on her robes. She reached down and jerked them from the dead man’s hands, then shook her head.
‘There’s nothing to do for it now,’ she thought and carefully refolded the robes and placed them back inside the case which she returned to its place behind the chest of drawers.
“This would be mine,” she whispered to the dead Weapons Master and jerked out the needle knife. “Thank you. I’ve been looking all over for it.” She cleaned the blade on the dead man’s shirt, blew out the lantern, then walked to the window and threw it open, invigorated by the fresh clean air. She loved the smell of rain in the summer.
The sun was down, but it was not yet completely dark. de Baard looked out and then down. Off to the left and slightly down river was a large water wheel, one that powered several of the heavy wood saws that these days were in constant use in the lumber mill below. The wheel was spinning around leisurely and making a good deal of noise. Noise was good, and would no doubt hide the sound of Sath’s body as it splashed into the river. The only drawback was that the wheel was located down river. de Baard was slightly concerned that the body may become entangled in the wheel and be discovered before she could finish the rest of her work. She would have to risk it since there was absolutely no chance that she could haul the corpse through the mill without being discovered.
de Baard closed the window, and then sat on the far bed…her bed, in the semi-darkness and waited. It was unlikely anyone would see the body fall from the window in the rain, but it was best to be cautious. In any case, it was not a long wait. Once it was completely dark, she grabbed the dead man by the shoulders and pulled hi
m to the wall. She flung the window open once more and then with surprisingly little difficulty hoisted the old man up. His head flopped loosely out the window as she rested his body on the sill.
‘The old man was just skin and bones,’ she thought and a bit more of the pride she felt for killing a Weapons Master faded away. It was now completely dark and she could not see more than a few feet in either direction. She pulled her head back in and without another thought quickly lifted Afton Sath’s feet and unceremoniously pushed him out the window and let him drop into the river below. The splash was hardly audible next to the creaking of the water wheel.
de Baard hung out the window for a moment trying to spot the body, but failed to do so. She thought she might have heard a faint thump from the wheel but it could have been her imagination, finally she pulled her head back into the room and closed the window. She relit the lantern and closely inspected the room, including the floor for any evidence of blood or gore. She only found a few specks of blood, which miraculously failed to land on her robes. She wiped them clean with one of Robert’s old shirts. When she was satisfied, she bundled her cape around her, pulled her hood up tight and stepped back out of the room.
She would pay the doctor a short visit before anyone noticed that Afton Sath was missing.
ǂ
“I want to go visit her,” Emm said, pretending to pout. It was dark already and the rain was once again coming down heavy.
“On a night like this?” Krys asked excited by the way the young woman was flirting with him. They’d spent precious little time together though when they were thrown in close proximity their interest in each other was unmistakable. Gwaynn, and the war, kept Krys very busy. Tonight was the first time they’d been alone together since the burning of Manse and though Krys would never wish for an injury to his friend and Prince, he was going to take full advantage of his absence.
Assassin of the Heart: Book Two: The Temple Islands Series Page 30