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

by Richard Parker

  “I don’t mind the rain…and I haven’t seen Cyndar all day,” she said teasingly. She had no real intention of going anywhere; she just wanted Krys to say that he wanted to be with her…and her alone.

  “You can see her tomorrow,” Krys said watching Emm closely. He liked the way she looked with her light brown hair pulled back. Her ears might be too big and her breasts might be a bit too small, but her eyes always seemed to sparkle. To Krys her smile was absolutely radiant. He cared nothing for her past and what she was forced to do. He could tell her innocence was intact at least. To him she was beautiful, and he found her entirely irresistible.

  “So what would you rather be doing?” She asked coyly, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

  Krys blushed. He did not have much experience with women, and she made him very nervous. He was afraid he would say or do something wrong, and it left him almost paralyzed. “Well…” he began, but quickly stopped as she turned to him, slowly walking closer.

  “Well…” she mocked, smiling. The smile fell into a frown as she wondered if perhaps he only wanted her for one thing.

  “Krys…do you like me? Why do you like me? You know what I was, what they made me do.” She hadn’t meant to bring it up, but didn’t think she could go where they were heading without some sort of explanation as to what Krys was thinking and feeling. She was dreadfully afraid that he only saw her as a whore, no matter what he did or said.

  Krys blushed again. “I…I don’t care about before. They made you do that…forced you to. I only care about now.”

  “And who am I now?”

  Krys smiled, gaining courage as Emm’s vulnerability surfaced. “You’re Emm, a beautiful, hardworking young woman of the Massi army,” he said standing up and going to her. He was a full head taller than she and could have rested his chin easily on the top of her head. She glanced up at him; her eyes wide open for either pain or love.

  “You think I’m beautiful?” she asked just to make him say it again, but he only nodded and bent slowly to kiss her, but she jumped into his arms before he actually reached her lips. He staggered and fell back onto the cot. She laughed, and wiggled about until she was on top and then she kissed him and he kissed her back. The rest of the night passed quickly and naturally, both of them happy and satisfied.

  ǂ

  The rain finally ended but it left behind a muddy, ashy mess all through the streets of Manse. Gwaynn knew that something was wrong the minute he stepped through the bridge and caught a glimpse of Krys’ face. He wanted to ask right then, but held his tongue, then turned back to watch as a pair of soldiers helped Samantha into Massi.

  “Let’s get you to the tent,” he said and signaled the closest squire to lead Samantha’s entourage away. After they’d gone, Gwaynn immediately looked from Krys, to Lonogan Bock and then at Prince Phillip and his Weapons Master Tabernas.

  “What is it?” he asked, dreading the answer.

  Krys took a step forward. “Sath is missing,” he said without preamble, “and the doctor is dead. His throat was cut.”

  “We have a traitor,” Bock said, his voice filled with menace and pain.

  Gwaynn stood silent for a moment, trying to take it all in.

  “We’ve had a full search on since early this afternoon, but we’ve no clue as to his whereabouts,” Bock added. “His bed was not slept in last night.”

  “When was the last time anyone saw him?”

  “Late evening yesterday, walking toward the Manse Bridge,” Krys explained. “But we’ve searched the town thoroughly, even the half burned out buildings just in case.”

  “He was old, my friend,” Phillip said putting a hand on Gwaynn’s shoulder. “Perhaps he just got disoriented in the storm and wandered out into the wild.”

  Gwaynn actually smiled. “Not likely.”

  “Or maybe he slipped, and fell into the river while he was crossing the bridge,” Tabernas suggested. It was a possibility they’d discussed before the Massi Prince’s arrival, but neither Krys nor Bock wished to bring up the old man’s growing frailties.

  To Gwaynn the idea of his old Master simply falling from a slick bridge and into the river to die did not seem very probable…but he had to admit it was possible. Sath was over seventy...and in the rain. Gwaynn’s shoulders slumped slightly and he dropped his head.

  Alba Tabernas moved quickly to his side and placed a gentle hand on his elbow.

  “Let us move to the central tent,” he said firmly. “We’ll discuss the preparations for the battle to come. Sath explained many of your ideas with us, and we’ve come up with a few of our own.

  “I can make it,” Gwaynn said as the Toranado Weapons Master made to help him walk. Gwaynn made the tent, but his knee still would not bend properly without pain so he limped badly. “It’ll heal,” he added to all those within earshot.

  Once inside the tent, Gwaynn immediately turned to na Gall. “You must return to Eno, the Queen has agreed to hold the fortress until the last possible moment, but I’d not have her trapped on our account.”

  na Gall bowed slightly and it suddenly came to her that so much was riding on someone so young. She wondered how Gwaynn managed to instill such confidence in those who were far older and more experienced. Perhaps he learned such skills from Tar Nev, and perhaps he was born with the ability. But for the Massi to win against the Deutzani and the Temple Knights he would have to live up to even the highest expectations.

  “I’ve contacted High Zarina Monde,” na Gall said. “She’ll be sending another doctor from Helles within days.”

  Gwaynn nodded his appreciation. Van, was a constant companion to the Toranado doctor and had learned a great deal about healing, but he was not Helles trained, and Gwaynn would feel much better with a true physician to care for those he put into harm’s way. And he knew that if he asked Van, the young Deutzani would concur.

  “Use Laynee as Speaker. She’s ready,” na Gall continued and was surprised at her own reluctance to leave.

  Finally though, the Traveler bowed once more, lower this time, and then excused herself from the tent.

  They spent the next several hours going over every detail of the defense of Manse. Bock was a wonder of organization and his memory for the smallest details served the meeting well. If the Deutzani were bold enough to meet them here, on this ground, they would pay a very heavy price. But such an engagement was still very much in question. Massi scouts reported that the Deutzani army had yet to exit the Gap into Massi lands. They were definitely not marching at speed.

  Far into the night Gwaynn and his Captains talked until one by one they began to take their leave. Phillip and Tabernas went to check with their own Captains as Bock headed to the mill. His crew was working lumber at an astonishing rate, rebuilding the town and the defenses around it. Finally only Krys and Gwaynn were left.

  Gwaynn let his air of command fall a little in the comfortable presence of his friend.

  “I’m afraid of the worst,” Gwaynn said and suddenly worry for his old Master welled up inside him. He was surprised by the power of the emotion. “If…if he is gone…that’s it. I’m alone, the last of my household. All the rest are dead.” The words stuck in his throat as he fought to keep his breathing steadily.

  “There may be hope yet,” Krys said, not truly believing it, and the words came out as a fools hope.

  “Then we must find him and soon,” Gwaynn added.

  Krys had no answer for that.

  “What’s different?” Gwaynn asked Krys, who seemed more at peace, more relaxed now than ever. Could it be that Sath’s presence had put so much pressure on him? Gwaynn could hardly account for it.

  Krys glanced almost shyly at his Prince.

  “What?” Gwaynn asked realizing that his first suspicion was far off base.

  Krys smiled. “I’m staying with Emm,” he said, suddenly nervous, wondering if Gwaynn would approve. But his fears were unfounded because Gwaynn’s face suddenly broke out into a wide, genuine grin.
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br />   “That’s good,” he said. “You’ve been pining over her long enough. You’ve great courage in battle, but the flick of a skirt seems to fill you with terror.”

  “And you’re different?” Krys responded with a laugh, relieved that Gwaynn had given his blessing.

  Gwaynn smiled again. “No…no, I’m terrified of skirts.” Gwaynn studied his friend closely. The happiness within him was now so readily apparent Gwaynn wondered why he did not recognize it before. “You’ve been with her then?”

  Krys blushed, affirming the question.

  “You should go…it’s late,” Gwaynn said.

  “Will you be all right?” Krys asked, briefly glancing at his knee.

  Gwaynn nodded. “I’ll limp my way to Samantha,” he said and then they glanced directly into each other’s eyes. They were both happy for the other, both proud of the other, and both very thankful for their friendship. Of this, of course, they said nothing.

  “Don’t be up all night,” Gwaynn quipped, Krys smiled and shrugged.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he answered then quickly, excitedly, left the tent.

  Gwaynn sat alone in the large tent for some time thinking, and was just about to struggle his way to his feet when the flap was suddenly pulled aside. He looked up and there in the doorway stood the beautiful Cyndar Huntley.

  ǂ

  The Deutzani army finally traversed the Gap four days after entering the forty-five mile long canyon. Though long, the canyon was just a quarter of a mile across at its widest point, and shrunk to only a little over fifty feet at its narrowest. During the best of times it would take an army of any size at least two days to traverse the length of the canyon, but heavy rain, and fatigue slowed the Deutzani even more, something which particularly irked King Arsinol. The entire army breathed a big sigh of relief when they reached the far side completely unmolested by the Massi. The recent battle with the Toranado was still fresh in everyone’s mind. It took them nearly three weeks to fight their way through the Scar Gap going west, so in retrospect the journey back seemed relatively quick. But Arsinol’s heart was telling him that speed was all-important, and every delay increased the pressure he felt in his chest. Every fiber in his being was telling him…screaming at him, to make haste, and the Deutzani King did not make a habit of ignoring such warnings.

  Ja Brude smiled widely when they finally linked up with their cavalry assigned to hold the eastern edge of the Gap.

  “Foolish of the Massi not to contest the Gap as the Toranado had done,” he said, though he was very happy that such foolishness existed in this world.

  Arsinol wanted to agree but the warning was still sounding throughout his body. He had a growing suspicion that they were all marching to their doom. It didn’t help when several hours later their scouts spotted a number of horsemen a few miles to the south watching the army’s progress from a hilltop.

  “Let’s get them moving faster,” the King said, though it was quickly heading toward late evening. “I want to be in Cape this time tomorrow.”

  Ja Brude frowned, to make Cape they would have to march the men hard…very hard. He said nothing however, and moved to the rear to see that the order for greater speed was past on.

  When Brude returned to ride next to the King, Arsinol glanced at him. He turned away before glancing back once more. “I can feel their army growing. It’s growing by the day, by the hour, by the minute. We must hit Manse and destroy this Prince. We must hit him hard and soon, within the week.”

  Ja Brude whistled. “Should we wait and bring Arden down from Solarii? Surely the Prince’s army could not have grown so large, so quickly. Even if it has, it’s just an army of peasants and rabble…not an army of true fighting men.”

  Arsinol immediately shook his head. “No…I’d not wait the week or more for Arden. We must hit soon. We will join with Rethwan and hear what he has to say about Manse.”

  They rode along again in silence for a spell, before Arsinol, who was clearly agitated, looked behind at the long column of men.

  “Can’t they hurry; can’t they feel it,” he grumbled loudly.

  Ja Brude had no answer for such a question, since he felt nothing.

  ǂ

  Cyndar stepped inside and pulled the tent flap closed behind her without ever taking her eyes from Gwaynn’s face. She wore a large, dark gray cape which was wrapped tightly about her. It covered her nearly twice over, hiding her body completely, though Gwaynn did notice that on her feet she wore tiny silk slippers, the type favored by dancers. They looked brand new and Gwaynn briefly wondered how she managed to walk through the mud and ash without getting them absolutely filthy. His heart sank and soared at the very same moment, for it was clear from the expression on her face why she was here.

  “He…Hello,” Gwaynn managed to stammer, though he wanted to say something far more forceful. She shouldn’t be here, not now, not with him. Her beauty and seductiveness were a great danger to his relationship with Samantha. He knew straight away that this was wrong, that Cyndar was a temptation too dangerous to be allowed to germinate. She was a rose with very sharp thorns. He had to kill this danger now before it grew out of control, like a weed. But as she stood gazing at him, her face fresh and lovely, he could feel the danger flowering quickly. He knew he should tell her to leave, but he couldn’t. His capacity for speech had somehow left him.

  “I’ve never thanked you for saving my life,” Cyndar said softly as she moved slowly into the tent and closer to him. She walked lightly, on the balls of her feet just like a dancer…just like an assassin of the heart.

  Gwaynn did not reply, but his eyes remained glued on the figure moving closer and closer. She stopped a few feet from him and pulled the hood from her head, her hair was down, cascading over her shoulders in dark, soft ringlets perfectly framing the delicate features of her face and accentuating the dark pools of her eyes. Already Gwaynn caught hints of the intoxicating, flowery smell of her skin and marveled at it. Then slowly, so as if not to frighten him, Cyndar opened her cape and let it slide to the floor. She wore nothing underneath. Only a week had passed since the last time he saw her nude, but seeing her from three feet away was far more powerful than from across the Scar.

  Gwaynn was completely unaware that his breathing picked up measurably. In fact, he was not aware of anything but the female form in front of him which rivaled perfection. His eyes moved slowly from her face, to her full breasts, to her flat stomach and toned legs. When they finally returned to her face, she smiled at him and did a perfect pirouette, slowly turning revealing all, before gracefully walking to his side and then behind him.

  ‘Cherries,’ he thought wildly. ‘She smells like cherries.’

  Standing behind him now, she let the tip of her fingers lightly brush the base of his neck. He struggled to control a delicious shiver and failed.

  ‘Tell her to leave!’ His mind screamed at him, but as she moved back around in front of him his eyes devoured her longingly. She bent her face close to his, her hair brushing his cheek. He could feel the heat emanating from her body and was shaking with the desire to reach out and touch her. He knew, however, if he did so he was lost…and then Samantha would be lost to him.

  “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear, her mouth so close to him that he could feel her soft breath as she spoke. She moved closer still, and her lips lightly grazed his ear.

  “Cyndar,” Gwaynn managed to croak, but could say nothing else. She took this as assent and smoothly spread her legs before him and carefully straddled his lap. Gwaynn stiffened but somehow he managed to keep his hands down at his side. Her body was like fire on his and the smell of her was lush and overpowering. He could feel the heat of her sex through his pants and his body instantly reacted with a powerful erection. Cyndar smiled and laughed softly, the sound like sugar and honey to his ears. Her weight was surprisingly light as she pressed her body closer to his. Gwaynn groaned as he fought his growing desire. She laughed again and placed her small hands on his sh
oulders and leaned her face within inches of his own. Her soft, dark hair fell all about him, but the sweet smell of it held only disaster for him.

  “Am I hurting your wound?” She asked softly, and placed a feather light kiss on his neck.

  Gwaynn blinked, surprised. His wound throbbed steadily all day, but at the moment he couldn’t feel it in the least.

  “Cyndar,” he said once more, this time his voice a bit clearer. He could feel the soft touch of her breasts as they pressed against his chest and a wave of dismay struck him, his resistance beginning to crumble.

  “Gwaynn,” she answered her voice playful. She shifted her position, pressing herself more firmly against him and another soft moan escaped his lips. Cyndar smiled again her eyes wide with excitement, and then she took his right hand and placed it directly on her breast.

  Gwaynn’s eyes widened, but his hand, traitor that it was, began to caress, to knead and to hold the warm pliable flesh in its grasp. Her breast was firm, very soft and heavy, and he was dimly aware of her nipple stiffening against the palm of his hand.

  ‘Larger than Samantha’s,’ he thought and suddenly the face of the auburn haired girl he loved filled his mind. ‘If she should find me here…’ Gwaynn took a deep breath and his hand fell from the breast of the woman in his lap. He did not have a great deal of experience fending off temptation, and he was yet just a teenager, but suddenly he realized that he would somehow overcome it.

  “Cyndar,” he said, more in control of his voice now, though he had to close his eyes briefly against the beauty of her bare shoulder, a soft pale stretch of velvet skin which stood out against her dark locks. She moved her crotch against his a bit harder and felt his desire. It clearly matched her own, but he reached up and took a hold of her warm, narrow shoulders pushed her slightly away. It took all of his self-control not pull her closer instead…Nev would have been proud.