“Who are you?” Gwaynn asked the lone survivor, as hunger cramps gripped his mid-section. He tried to ignore them, and forced himself not to bend at the waist. His legs were shaky and it felt as if all the strength had gone out of his arms. “Who are you?” he repeated, the menace plain in his voice.
The man did not answer. He was sweating and circling, clearly trying to get to the far side of Gwaynn, who apparently was standing between him and his supposed freedom.
“You have seconds to live,” Gwaynn stated, hoping the man would just surrender. He did not want to kill this man, but would not hesitate to do so. What he truly wanted was answers, plus he was reluctant to fight in his present state.
“If you do not speak, you die. Who are you?”
“My…my name is Valent,” the man said. “Valent Torbors.”
“And?”
The man did not answer instead he attacked, clumsily. Gwaynn blocked the thrust, and in real time, used the powerful wrists he had developed over the months of practice with the heavy wooden katas. He struck out as hard as he could and the man’s right kali flew from his hand. The man stood there stunned looking down at his empty hand. His will to fight flagged. He knew he had no hope of defeating this…this.. boy. He groaned in despair, but even so attacked yet again, but this time he charged for the girl. Gwaynn was expecting such a maneuver, but how he could not say. He sprang forward and stabbed the man just below the right collarbone. The man hissed with pain and swung with his left at his killer. Gwaynn blocked it with his right kali then yanked his left from the man’s chest. The man screamed and staggered. Gwaynn spun and lashed out; removing the man’s left hand at the wrist. Valent screamed again and lunged at Gwaynn, who drove one kali into his groin and the other back into the man’s chest. Valent slumped immediately and fell to the ground, and in this universe at least, was no more.
Gwaynn stood panting for a moment then he heard Elise whimper. He went to her and knelt down, hunger pangs making it hard to think. She was crying, and looking from him to the decapitated body in front of her and back again.
“There…there were five of them,” she said, disbelief in her voice.
“They were poorly trained,” Gwaynn gasped, the pain in his abdomen growing.
“They were not!” A voice declared from behind him. Gwaynn stood shakily to see Tar Nev walking briskly down the path, followed by Master Putal, Master Jann, and a gang of sleepy students. Nev arrived first and knelt to look at the first man he came to. He nodded mostly to himself and looked up at Gwaynn and smiled.
He pulled up a sleeve on the right arm of one of the dead men, and pointed out the distinctive tattoo. “They were Temple Knights,” he said simply and the crowd around them gasped. Temple Knights were the most seasoned, well-trained troops in the entire Kingdom…yet they were not Weapons Masters, and clearly not Tars.
“Temple Knights?” Gwaynn asked looking down at the carnage he had caused but then he shrugged.
“I think our time here has come to an end,” he said to Nev, clearly saddened by the fact.
ǂ
Samantha rode due south throughout the rest of the day, only coming out of her stupor when the daylight began to wane. She did not spur Bane into a run, though at times she wanted to, instead she let him pick the pace, saving his energy for when she might truly need it. The sun was still an hour from setting when she reached the spot where she planned to camp for the night. She knew the game trail she’d been following very well. It was a short cut to the town of Dunn. Her father could not take it with the wagon when he was carting ale, but they would often come this way on horseback. When she was younger, Wellman would take her out into the woods to camp, swim and fish. This path led to their favorite swimming hole. It was a familiar spot and she felt safer because of it. The game trail crossed the Clearwater creek some four hundred feet from a large rock fall, which created a deep clear pool. She crossed over the creek while it was still shallow and moved off the game trail, traveling along the south side of the rushing water. She passed the swimming hole then turned out into the woods but rode only about twenty-five more feet. She stopped when she came to a steep bluff. At the base there were a number of boulders strewn about, like toys left behind by a careless child. Samantha led the animals through the boulders until she came to a flat clear section of rock, which was hidden from both the creek and the game trail, by the spattering of boulders. In the center of the space was a well-used fire pit, and directly next to the bluff was a pair of boulders, upon which a large slate of flat rock rested creating a natural roof, protection from all but the most serious rain. Samantha started to cry, thinking of the many times she had camped here with her father, Wellman and Arabelle.
She fought back the tears and dismounted. She removed her belongings from Nancy and then the saddle from Bane, going through the motions in a mental fog, trying not to think because it brought only pain. When the animals were free, she led them carefully back to the creek and allowed them to drink their fill, and as they did she quickly stripped off her clothes. The air was chilly for the end of March, but the water was not iced over. She dipped a toe in to test it first; it was cold…very cold, but without any hesitation she jumped and went straight in over her head. The shock of the cold water was far greater than she had anticipated, and she almost yelled out under water. She broke the surface with a loud gasp that scared Nancy, who shied away momentarily before returning to drink again. Samantha’s first inclination was to head for the bank as quickly as possible and leave the frigid water behind. The cold attacked her skin and nerves like a thousand tiny knives, but it also felt wonderfully clean. She forced herself to stay and then rubbed her cold hands over her body, down her belly, and between her legs, wanting to wash away the feelings of sickness and guilt. Despite her efforts and the cleansing effects of the water, Samantha began to suspect that she would never feel truly clean again.
It wasn’t long before the cold began to numb her skin, and she made her way quickly to the bank and climbed out onto land. In all she was only in the water for a few minutes, but still the air felt strangely warm at first then she began to shiver uncontrollably. She picked up her clothes though she did not put them on while she was wet, instead she grabbed one of the blankets she had brought along and wrapped up in it. She seized Bane’s halter and led him back up into the safety of the boulders, then leaned against him for several moments for his warmth. Finally she hobbled him, and walked back down to the creek and did the same for Nancy. It was beginning to grow dark in the forest, but before it was completely black, she collected a good supply of dead wood, shivering all the while, and carried it to the shelter.
Samantha started a small fire just outside the overhang, and though she knew it was dangerous, that the fire could be spotted, she welcomed its warmth. She kept it small, however, and huddled close by. She snuggled in the warm wool blankets, pulling her feet up close and hugging her knees. She leaned against one of the large boulders and stared into the flames. She was sure she would not sleep, and was afraid even to close her eyes, terrified her mind would play out the day’s events over and over. But in the end, the exhaustion caused by the cold and the fear of the day’s events won out. As the fire and blankets warmed her, she grew drowsy and closed her eyes. She was asleep almost immediately. Just as she feared, her dreams were full of blood and killing, but mercifully she did not remember them.
ǂ
Tar Navarra woke just as she crossed the Clearwater creek. At first he was confused, not accustomed to waking up with his face in the dirt. He tried to move, but the pain in his head and shoulders convinced him to remain still for a moment. When he attempted to rise again he did so with much more care. His head was pounding as he reached up and gingerly touched his nose, which felt enormous. Blood was crusted in his nostrils and over his upper lip and mouth. Suddenly it came back to him and he looked over at the family stacked neatly beneath the oak. He glanced around the area. The girl was gone. Fury hit him like a wall of water and he
gritted his teeth, but immediately stopped because of the pain it caused. He carefully reached around and felt the back of his head and found a large knot near the base of his skull. Blood was dried behind his ear and on his neck also. The girl had beaten him hard, but she was a fool for not killing him when she had the chance.
He stood and a wave of nausea went through him. His knees were shaking slightly, but as he began to move around his strength came back rapidly. The sun was just kissing the horizon, which meant he had been unconscious for approximately five hours. He grunted, amazed that he could have been out so long; the girl had put a walloping on him. He moved carefully over to the water pump, and pumped out fresh water. He was very thirsty and drank in large gulping mouthfuls and then he used more water to gently clean his wounds. He felt along the bridge of his nose, quiet sure it was broken, but he did not mind. He imagined it would make him look even more imposing.
He made his way over to the block and saw that the girl had not taken any of his weapons. His axe was where he had dropped it and his kali were still at his waist. He looked about for Kronos, but did not see him. He whistled loudly, but the stallion did not respond. Navarra frowned and then walked around the house and barn, whistling several more times, but there was still no sign of the horse. He was sure the girl could not have taken him, for Kronos was a well trained warhorse and would have fought if need be. He checked the barn on the off chance she had somehow managed to corral him, but the barn was empty of animals.
He decided to leave his axe, placing it just inside the door of the house. The block would also have to stay. He would return and retrieve them at a later time. Without a mount he began walking down the lane. He took time to study the tracks on the road in the fading light, and was able to pick out the girl’s as they left the road and took off across a field. She was riding a large horse and pulling a smaller one behind.
Good, he thought. Two animals will make tracking her easier. He was feeling thoroughly embarrassed about his present situation and cursed inwardly. To have a slip of a girl best him like that was completely unthinkable and something he would definitely not let get around. He thought of Samantha and how good her body felt that afternoon. He was sure she’d been just as excited as he. Perhaps that was why she did not kill him, in any case, he had already decided to enjoy her once more before he killed her, and kill her he would. There was no help for that now. Still if she was anything like him, they could have fun before the end…
His mind stopped in mid-thought, because there along side the road was Kronos, lying on his side, clearly dead. Navarra seethed and moved closer to find out the cause. He saw the wound in the horse’s chest almost immediately, though because the arrow had broken off at some point and he had to dig into the flesh to find out the source of the wound. He found a length of shaft and the arrowhead lodged deep in the horse’s lungs.
‘Damn girl,’ he thought to himself and pounded his fist against his thigh. She would pay dearly for this, and as his anger grew he started off toward Millvale, this time walking much faster than customary. He was impatient to begin tracking her, but had already decided that after he commandeered a horse in Millvale, he would head first to Solarii. Though it would cost him time, he would fetch his dogs before continuing after the girl. He was sure she would fear his dogs, and after she was dead he would enjoy watching them eat her.
ǂ
Samantha woke with the sun already on her face. She went from a deep sleep to panic almost instantly, standing so fast she slammed her shoulder into the rock overhang. Wincing from the pain, she scanned the area, silently berating herself for her carelessness. For the moment, however, she seemed to be safe, but there was no telling just how close the Executioner could be by now, if he was even alive. Her spirit sank. In her heart she knew he still lived. She should have killed him; she should have made sure. Now she would have to run without truly knowing whether he was chasing or not. She felt sick and would have thrown up if she had anything in her stomach. She quickly rolled up her belongs, making sure to pack everything tightly. The fire was long out but she still grabbed up several handfuls of dirt and threw it on the coals. Bane snorted and she looked over at him.
“You could have woken me,” she scolded, but Bane just snorted again. Beth was always startled when he snorted, but then laughed; believing Bane was playing with her. Thinking of her smallest sister, Samantha began to cry, softly at first but then uncontrollably. She cried for nearly a quarter of an hour before final managing to pull herself into some semblance of control.
She saddled Bane and packed up Nancy as fast as she was able then led them on foot back to the game trail she had been following. She looked north first, afraid she might see the Executioner just yards away, but the forest was empty. She sighed with relief and began to head south once more, this time at a faster pace. The woods in this area were still familiar to her and she made good time, but through it all, in the back of her mind she kept wondering how close the Executioner was behind her. He could be close. He might even have passed her in the night. It was quite possible for she had only come about six miles from her home. She shook her head at her own foolishness, disgusted by her weakness. She rode at a trot for almost an hour, trying to make up for lost time until the path came to the edge of a clearing. The trail ran parallel to the clearing, just inside the tree line. She continued to follow it, but doing so made her feel exposed. She hated being so close to the open. She knew she must travel like Afton Sath, cross-country, away and out of sight of as many people as possible. Anyone she saw, or anyone who saw her was a potential informant, and she knew from personal experience how persuasive the man who followed her could be.
“Sam!” a voice yelled from deeper in the woods, up the hill to her left. She jerked out of her thoughts, cringing. She looked about, still riding, but now she heard the rustling of leaves.
“Sam!” she heard again behind her and turned to see Lonney Madres, the son of a farmer who regularly sold hops to her father. They lived about three quarters of the way to Dunn. He was younger by a few years, but even so he was aggressive in his advances toward her. But she had always found him more amusing than threatening. He was tall, very thin and a bit awkward. He had a slightly lopsided face, which he inherited from his father, and shaggy, straw colored hair that always looked as if it had never been combed, today was no exception.
“Sam stop!” He insisted for she had kept riding. Finally, knowing it was pointless now, she reined Bane to a halt. She remained silent, however, a little surprised to find that she could not make herself talk.
Lonney was on foot and ran the rest of the way down the hill, and then up along side of her. He patted Nancy as he passed, eyeing the pack on her back. “What are you doing way out here?” he asked, panting a bit from his exertion. He had a bow in his hand and a quarrel of arrows on his back.
Samantha felt her eyes begin to tear up, so she quickly turned her head away from him. “Just riding,” she answered and was proud of the fact that her voice barely wavered.
“What’s wrong?” Lonney asked sounding very concerned. Obviously her voice had wavered more than she thought.
“Nothing,” she answered growing angry with him and all his questions, “just riding.”
“With both Bane and Nancy?” Lonney asked, wondering if she thought he was an idiot like Hub, the man from Dunn who soiled his pants three times a week.
Sam nodded sheepishly, realizing how foolish she was being. She would need a better cover story in case she ran across anyone else.
“Does your father know?” Lonney finally asked, wondering what mischief she was up to now.
Sam jerked as if he had hit her. She stared at him then suddenly burst into tears. Lonney backed away quickly, like she was Hub, with soiled pants. She cried for a good minute before calming a bit. She looked at Lonney through tear-laden eyes and would have been amused at his expression but for the grief in her heart.
“My father is dead,” she whispered, flinching as she
spoke, as if saying it aloud somehow made it real.
Lonney gasped. “How?”
Sam ignored him for a moment. “And Arabelle…and Beth,” she added. “Plus they killed Wellman and Murl.”
“Who?” Lonney stammered, shocked.
“A Deutzani Executioner,” she answered drying her eyes, “yesterday.”
They both remained in stunned silence for a moment before Lonney looked up at her, sad excitement in his eyes. “My father will want to know about this,” he said. “You must come home with me and tell him what has happened.” He expected her to agree, but she just shook her head.
“No, I can’t come to your house,” she answered. “Afton Sath came to ours, and the Executioner followed. He’s after me. He will follow me, and I will not lead him to your family. He will kill them.”
Lonney frowned. He had not considered this but then suddenly his face brightened. “Are you running south?”
Sam shook her head again. “I can’t tell you,” she answered.
Lonney frowned again, feeling as if she didn’t trust him.
“You might be killed for such information,” she added, reading his face easily. He brightened again, happy that she was showing such concern for his well-being. Then he got an idea.
“Are you at least going south as far as Stanton falls?”
Sam took a moment to think. She would go past the falls as she turned southwest traveling along the Clearwater creek to where it joined the Scar at Lynndon. If she continued on this pace she would reach the falls sometime late tomorrow morning, possibly the early afternoon.
“Yes, I will be passing the falls,” she finally answered, shrugging to herself. If he guessed she would be going to the falls it wouldn’t be hard to guess she was going to Lynndon, after all it was the only place to easily ford the Scar River within thirty miles.
The Black Horseman Page 23