Parker Richard D.

Elsewhere

Elsewhere

Temple Islands [3]

Richard D. Parker

(2012)

The Temple Islands Series

Book One: The Black Horseman

Book Two: Assassin of the Heart

Book Three: Elsewhere

Book Four: The Best of all Possible Worlds

For my daughter Alex, who’s still a teenager

and therefore doesn’t give a crap about dedications.

Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Parker

All right reserved

Elsewhere is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

I

“She’s a traitor Nacht!” the High King bellowed through one of the two silvery Speaker bubbles that floated in midair near the center of the room. “That pretty little Executioner of yours has gone and changed sides. She’s fighting with the Massi now!”

Tar Nacht, High Executioner of Sinis Island blanched, though luckily no one was in the room to witness his loss of composure. Of course the Speaker Waters was only a few feet away, but his eyes were closed and his brow furrowed in concentration. Beads of sweat stood out on his high balding forehead as the little man struggled to keep two Speaker connections open simultaneously.

Nacht knew creating multiple connections was very difficult and rarely done. According to Waters there were only a few Speakers powerful enough to perform such a feat and those who could, would soon constitute the pinnacle of the Isle of Light’s power. Waters and the rest of the Family’s personal Speakers should count themselves lucky to have escaped the High King’s wrath. They were only spared because they did not have the power to Travel and thus were not a true threat.

“Never!” Nacht spouted in reflex, without thinking. No Executioner in the last three hundred years had turned their back on Sinis. Of course in the distant past such betrayal was not unheard of, but that was long ago, before the old Tars developed the training necessary to forge ultimate commitments. There must be a mistake. de Baard would never join the Massi. It didn’t seem possible.

“It’s a mistake,” Nacht protested. “She must be trying to embed herself deeply in with the Massi before the kill,” he explained. It was a favored tactic used by older, more experienced Tars. True, it was rare for one as young as de Baard to play such a sophisticated role, but it must be so, for betrayal was unthinkable.

“She’s gone over. She’s Massi now,” the High King insisted, his anger coming through clearly despite the distance his voice was traveling.

Nacht shook his head, though again there was no one to see. “It must be a tactic. Killing a man surrounded by an army is no easy task.” he argued.

“She killed my father!” Another voice sounded out of the void.

Nacht frowned. “Whose father?” He demanded.

“She killed Arsinol,” Mastoc clarified impatiently.

“Arsinol…” Nacht mumbled, confused. Even he had to admit killing one of the clients, and a King no less, would be taking the embedding practice to extremes.

“Tar Nacht,” said another voice, more respectful. “This is Ja Brude. I was there when she killed the King. It’s no mistake.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment.

“You have a new target,” Nacht heard the High King say. “de Baard must die as well as the Massi Prince and they must die quickly. Eno is about to fall and I don’t want them in the way when we make our final move on Massi.”

“Massi is mine!”

“Arden,” the High King spoke again. “We’ll discuss that at your upcoming coronation. Be on the King’s Island in seven days and I will crown you King of the Deutzani. You must hurry.” Mastoc would indeed crown Arden the Deutzani King. The rumors coming out of that country were disturbing. The two younger Deutzani Princes, Avaal and Antioc, were already gathering men and arms. They would challenge Arden if they had the opportunity. If Arden was not crowned soon, the country could break down into civil war and then Audra would be very displeased. Mastoc found he liked it very much when his young wife was happy and compliant. One thing was sure however, Mastoc was not about to sail to Malche, not with the Toranado in control of the sea and once again the High King cursed his own lack of control for destroying the Travelers.

Nacht sat silent, shocked by the news, still unable to believe. de Baard a traitor! It was not possible. She must be embedding. Arsinol, the fool, must have challenged her during the battle, or wandered too close while she was in the grip of bloodlust. Hell, any fool knew not to grab a mad dog by the tail.

“Nacht…she must die!” The High King insisted.

Nacht grimaced but quickly accepted the inevitable. Yes, there was nothing he could do about it now. de Baard must die, even though she was now in the perfect position to kill the Massi Prince. Nacht only hoped she would accomplish her task before she came face to face with the Black horseman.

“Very well, she will die,” he finally agreed.

“Do it quickly Nacht!” The High King commanded and when the bubbles were completely dissolved Waters opened his eyes and looked to his master.

“Summon Tar Lacombe,” was all Nacht said. The Speaker nodded and left the room.

Twenty minutes later Lacombe entered.

“You are Massi are you not?” Nacht asked.

Lacombe nodded suspiciously. “Born in Solarii.”

Nacht smiled. “Good. I have a target for you.”

ǂ

Admiral Cantu woke early, well before sunrise, on the day the siege of Eno entered its sixth week. Over that time there’d been little change, the massive inner keep still remained in Toranado hands but most of the city proper was now razed to the ground. The invaders, however, left enough buildings intact for their highest-ranking officers to sleep indoors on soft beds and have an occasional bath, just a touch of civilization while the business of death and destruction was carried to its final conclusion.

Over the weeks, the siege turned into a waiting game as the Palmerrio attempted to dig beneath the keep. For over a month now they dug and chipped their way through the hard, rocky ground in the hopes of creating a weak spot beneath the mighty fortress that would undermine and topple the massive stone walls. Tunneling was a long, time-consuming endeavor; however, in certain cases it could also be a highly effective tactic. The Palmerrio’s progress was predictably slow since the ground beneath the capital city was nearly solid rock; the enormous stone keep could not have been built on a less stable foundation. Up until now the Toranado viewed the tunneling as a fool’s errand. Most believed the ground beneath the city to be solid bedrock, hard enough to keep the Palmerrio digging for years, Cantu included. But they were all wrong. Late last night Queen Ramona reported that the digging was clearly audible through the walls of the keep at its very lowest levels. The tunneling was proceeding much faster than any believed possible. Cantu was worried, worried for his country, worried for his Queen, and worried for his lover, who also happened to be the reigning monarch.

But his greatest worry was not for the safety of Queen Ramona. He was confident she could escape well before the inner keep actually fell; after all she had the Traveler na Gall with her. Plus if that option somehow failed, she had over half the Toranado fleet guarding the harbor of her fair city, ready to whisk her to safety if need be. No, his greatest worry was that Eno would not hold out long enough for their allies, the Massi, to assemble an army large enough to challenge their enemies. It was a daunting task for the young Prince Gwaynn no matter what his skills and popularity. No, Eno must hold the Palmerrio captive for many more months if the young Massi Prince was to have any chance…unless somehow, the Cassinni could be swayed to join the fray against the High King…but for now Gwaynn was their only hope.

Cantu realized however, that it was undoubtedly a vain hope. Even if they somehow managed to gain years for the Massi, their enemies were strong and many, and included the vaunted Temple Knights of the High King. Over the past thousand years, no country, no army, no force in all the Inland Sea had prevailed against the well-trained cavalry knights from the King’s Island. Even with the ten thousand Toranado soldiers already in Massi aiding Prince Gwaynn, Cantu felt they were just delaying the inevitable. Foot soldiers were just so much fodder against a powerful force of cavalry. Unless…unless somehow the Tars of Noble could be persuaded to join the fight against the High King.

Cantu frowned and struck his fist lightly against the wooden bulkhead. They had far too many potential allies sitting on the sidelines for his tastes. Something must be done about that, but he was no diplomat able to convince nations and men to join the cause. Yes, a master diplomat is what they needed if the Tars were going to be convinced to move against the High King.

It was a slim hope, but not completely a fool’s hope, after all, Prince Gwaynn studied on the island of the Tars, studied with the greatest Tar of them all. In a way he was one of their own. Perhaps in the end, the Tars could be persuaded to fight for justice once more.

The Admiral climbed the ladder from his cabin up to the main deck and out into the early morning darkness, while thoughts and possibilities darted about his brain. They banged and buzzed against his skull like a fly on a windowpane. And like the fly, Cantu feared they were already caught, for even though the window offered the promise of paradise beyond, it was all a cruel illusion and there was truly no escape. Cantu shook his head, trying to dispel these negative thoughts as he finally reached the main deck. It was not good for morale to wander the ship like a sour puss.

“Sir,” Ensign Billings said, snapping to attention while stifling a yawn. As the youngest officer on the flagship, Billings was forced to endure the black shift, through the deepest, darkest part of the night, but he prided himself on never resting while at his post. Tonight was no different, but such diligence to duty did not temper his relief when his shift finally came to an end and he could go below and crawl into his hammock.

“All quiet?” Cantu asked, taking a steaming cup of tea from the steward. Billings nodded.

“All quiet…sir,” he replied.

“Very well,” Cantu said briskly, “I have the deck.” The young lieutenant nodded but remained up top for a few minutes more watching with his Admiral as the sky slowly lightened until finally the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon. The morning was beautiful; the sky was clear, not a single blemish marred the dark blue canvas. But low on the northern horizon, the early light also revealed a multitude of sails. A large fleet of ships was rounding the western point of the Bay of Eno. They were coming fast, pulling all oars. The sheer numbers approaching ruled out the possibility that they were Toranado ships. It also did not bode well that they were arriving from the northwest. The rest of the Toranado fleet was positioned at Cape and to the east.

Cantu stared at the approaching ships in disbelief for a moment, but then calmly turned to Ensign Billings.

“Sound the horn,” the Admiral ordered quietly, staring transfixed as more and more ships rounded the point and came into view. “Raise anchors and get us underway. All oars.”

Moments after the horn sounded the ship was alive with activity. The Admiral’s crew was well trained, the best, and he gave their preparation little attention. Warning horns sounded from other nearby Toranado ships but Cantu ignored them as well; his eyes and mind were completely riveted on the threat racing toward them. In the distance, ship after ship continued to round the point. Cantu held his breath, waiting for the last of them.

‘The High King is coming for us,’ he thought, eyes raking the flags flying over the enemy warships as they advanced ever nearer. At first, in the dim light of the early morning, he could make out no colors, but then he recognized the signal flags of the Palmerrio, then those of the High King and finally to his dismay, the flags of the Rhondono. The only positive was that fact that the powerful Cassinni fleet remained blatantly absent. But looking out at the vast armada sailing into Eno harbor, he was little comforted by the fact that the High King did not have the support of all the great families in his war against the Toranado. The fleet now sailing against them was daunting enough. It was also surprising that as yet no Deutzani ships were sighted in the approaching armada. But as the sun completely cleared the hills to the east, he spotted a separate group of warships on the opposite side of the bay, guarding the eastern channel…the Deutzani.

Cantu frowned. ‘At least we will not have to fight the fleets of all the Families of the Inland Sea,’ he thought wryly, and silently blessed the Cassinni.

Once the anchors were aboard and they were making head way, Cantu turned and spotted Captain Denard standing just behind him, fastening the last button on his overcoat.

“Captain,” the Admiral said, “ten degrees starboard. Signal the fleet. Let’s aim for the far channel. We’ll smash our way through the Deutzani if necessary.”

As the ships slowly turned, Cantu and Denard moved forward to assess the strength of the enemy.

“We’re outnumbered,” Denard said, a bit surprised even though they were missing nearly a quarter of their own fleet, which was off guarding the harbor at Cape and the flanks of the Toranado army in Massi.

‘The High King must have promised the Rhondono bastards the world,’ Denard thought as the combined enemy fleet grew closer. He was not overly concerned. The Toranado navy was the supreme power on the Inland Sea and even at their reduced strength the Captain felt they were more than a match for any other force on the water.

“Yes,” Cantu agreed, “but we’re not outnumbered in heavy warships just galleys. The High King may only be here to drive us away from Eno…we shall see in a moment.”

Signal flags were raised, communicating the Admiral’s intention instantly to the entire fleet and with practiced precision, the mass of oar bearing ships turned as one. They only made a hundred yards however, before the fleets of the High King and the Palmerrio turned in pursuit.

“So much for just driving us from the bay,” Denard said with a touch of anticipation in his voice. The Captain was not accustomed to running from enemy ships, nor did he want to become comfortable with such actions. If the enemy was turning to fight, so much the better, Denard had complete confidence in his ship, his fleet and his Admiral. In his mind, no one could touch Cantu for tactics at sea.

“Continue on the present course,” the Admiral said calmly, “half oars…rest half.”

Denard bark a repeating order and the fleet moved easily out into the bay and toward the coming battle.

Cantu moved the fleet slowly to the northeast and calmly watched as the enemy fleet pulled all oars in pursuit. As Captain Denard observed, they were outnumbered, but the enemy was short in heavy triremes by about a dozen. Most of the ships in pursuit were of the galley class; light, maneuverable and quick in the water, but lacking the ramming punch of the larger triremes. Although galleys, in sufficient numbers, could be a danger, Cantu knew that it would take three to four galleys to even have a prayer of sinking a heavy trireme. Nagging at him was the fact that the leaders of the enemy fleet would also be aware of this, but still they came on. Aggressive they were…too aggressive.

Captain Denard fidgeted slightly at the Admiral’s side as they moved out of the safety of the inner harbor and the wind at the point struck them. Both men raised their faces into the wind, smelling the air, tasting the weather, and pervading everything was the smell of the sea, salty and slightly fishy, but even so they gloried in it. “This is it,” the Captain finally said, “the largest sea battle of our time.” And Cantu could hear the eagerness in the young man’s voice.

The Admiral glanced over at his second in command and hoped the eagerness was warranted. He considered tempering the young man’s excitement but then thought better of it. Hell, he was excited too…and confident. The Toranado were the masters of the sea, and for good reason. His fleet, his men, and his ships were simply the best, and like the Temple Knights they dominated their chosen arena for centuries.

“Stay on course,” the Admiral said ten minutes later as Captain Denard looked to him expectantly. The enemy fleet was now within a quarter of a mile, still pulling hard. The Captain glanced at his Admiral then at the enemy fleet, and then back once more.

“A few more minutes.” Cantu replied calmly, his thick legs spread against the rocking of the ship. “They will be tired when we turn into them. They seem in a hurry to die.”

Three minutes later the Admiral gave the order to turn into the enemy.

“All oars!” Denard shouted, and their pace picked up dramatically. Cantu stood near wheel, confident now. The enemy ships were still racing toward them, and he doubted that many of their oarsmen would have much strength left to maneuver, even if they managed to survive the first pass. The enemy commander was a fool…and reckless.

Cantu’s flagship, the Deirdre Bay was an older, heavy trireme and she took a bit of coaxing to turn and get underway, but once moving, anything she struck with her large steel pointed ram was going to the bottom…quickly. The Admiral had complete confidence in the Deirdre Bay and with luck he felt she would get her fourth kill today. It wasn’t until they were within a hundred yards that Cantu noticed something strange about the enemy bearing down on them. On the sides of all the approaching ships hung great white bundles, like protective bumpers only much, much larger. He wondered if the Palmerrio were foolish enough to actually think they could use the bundles as protection, but then the enemy ships were among them.

As they neared, a galley foolishly darted directly in front of the Deirdre Bay, a near perfect target but just before they smashed into the smaller ship Cantu heard a great crash from starboard and risked a glance. He immediately saw, with satisfaction, that one of his sister ships, the Hermes, had plowed into another unfortunate enemy galley. The Admiral watched, briefly noting that the enemy ship had managed to pull its oars inside just in time, but still the ship was doomed. The heavy ram of the trireme smashed into the aft section of the smaller galley, splitting the timbered side easily and driving deep into the ship’s interior. Cantu knew that any sailors or oarsman in the immediate area of impact would have been killed almost instantly.

The Admiral quickly turned back to watch the Deirdre Bay’s progress into the enemy, feeling for the unfortunates on the stricken enemy vessel who would not have the pleasure of another day on this earth. As his ship plowed through the waves Cantu watched as the galley directly in their path nimbly swung hard to port and out of harm’s way. The Admiral knew they would be hard pressed to ram the agile smaller ship on this pass, but ahead there were many, many other targets.

“Admiral!” Denard yelled out in alarm and Cantu turned. Denard’s attention was starboard and when the Admiral glanced that way he saw that the Hermes was in the process of being boarded by a host of enemy sailors and the stricken vessel had somehow become anchored with its killer.

Cantu raced to the rail trying to get a better view.

“Port oars!” he heard a cry and swiftly turned his attention back to the Deirdre Bay.

The galley they attempted to ram was sliding along the port side of the ship and arrows were now flying back and forth, though strangely flaming arrows were only flying away from the Deirdre Bay.

Cantu took three steps toward the center of the deck, blatantly ignoring the flying sticks of death that filled the air. Men went down around him as others screamed out warnings, but the Admiral had a mind only for the galley that was riding the waves dangerously close to his hull. Then, all at once, the bundles tied to the side of the enemy ship plunged into the water like anchors, and to Cantu’s horror he understood their sinister purpose.

“Hard starboard!” he yelled, but knew it was hopeless since the port oars were disengaged. The white bundles were attached to three large, thick planks and Cantu stared in alarm as they swung high up into the air. His eye caught the twinkling of metal coming from the very ends of each plank, and looking up he spotted dozens of sharp steel spikes, glistening in the morning light like poison dew. The planks were made of heavy timbers, easily eight to ten inches thick and were tied together to make a gangway nearly three feet wide. As the weight of the anchors pulled at them, the planks pivoted on massive iron hinges. They rode up impossibly high before gracefully arching down and smashing through the railing of the Deirdre Bay and jamming their steel spikes deep into the deck. Almost immediately both vessels shuddered with the joining, like two virgins tasting love for the first time. Running in opposite directions the strain on both ships was considerable, but the steel tips stubbornly held them together and the ships immediately began to swing around one another in a tight circle.

Cries of alarm sounded all over the Deirdre Bay even as the first of the enemy started the perilous sprint from one ship to the other. To Cantu’s horror he saw that the enemy ship was packed with men, far more than a normal galley crew, and those making the crossing all appeared to be seasoned soldiers rather than sailors. Most of the attackers nimbly made the crossing, but a few lost their balance in the pitching and rocking of the sea and were thrown down between the ships. Cantu stared in disbelief as the enemy streamed across; arrows flew between the ships now with angry consistency. The Admiral risked a glance out at the rest of his fleet and was dismayed to see that many more Toranado ships were in the same predicament, the enemy at times even sacrificing a vessel in order to slow and trap the more experienced Toranado sailors.

“Admiral!” Captain Denard yelled, his kali already drawn and ready. Cantu turned and saw a sight which chilled him. Enemy bearing the uniform of the Temple Knights were now crossing to the Deirdre Bay, and on the galley’s deck waiting to cross, stood a man dressed all in black, his cape and pants trimmed in red. The man stared briefly at Cantu, a wide smile on his face. He gave a slight nod before turning his full attention to the crossing.

‘Executioner!’ Cantu thought and pulled his own kali from his waist, though he knew he was no swordsman. He absently wished Tabernas was here. But despite his lack of skill, the admiral did not hesitate and waded into the battle for his ship, Denard at his side. The fighting was very heavy and going against the Toranado in an ugly way. Almost immediately Cantu caught a kali in the right bicep, he cried out and dropped one of his weapons. He did not try to retrieve it knowing his wounded arm was now useless. Instead he frantically tried to block the powerful swipe of a long sword. He managed but barely, and was only dimly aware of being spun about by the force of the blow. He gazed in horror out at his stricken fleet for just a second and before he could swing back around he felt a hammer blow in his lower back. The admiral fell to his knees as his pants grew heavy and wet. He thought for a moment his bladder had gone, but then saw the blood running smoothly from the bottom of his trousers. Cantu was breathing hard and fast, but felt no real pain. He saw Denard, already lying on the deck; his throat was slashed open, the only movement coming from the twitching of his eyes. Cantu somehow managed to gain his feet but his legs, which had never failed him at sea, would not work properly and he stumbled hard into the railing. With great effort Cantu turned back to face the fighting, wanting to defend his ship and his men, but just as he did an enemy soldier caught him in the chest with a pike and flipped him backward over the rail and into the water.

Cantu almost smiled. ‘Yes, let the sea have me,’ he thought and then he was under, the salt, briny taste of the water filling his mouth and nose. He held his breath and worked his way to the surface with his good arm. He fought to tread for a moment as his eyes searched back toward his homeland. He saw Eno and the keep on the distant shore, thought once of his love Ramona, and then quietly sank to his death.

ǂ

Cyn de Baard rode along at a good clip, wanting to put as much distance between herself and Manse as possible. She needed time to think and to plan, but most importantly to kill. She needed to kill someone, anyone…badly. She knew if she’d stayed around the headquarters of the Massi much longer, Lee Brandt was going to die. And while that might cure the itch and provide her with a great deal of satisfaction, it would also raise far too many questions, questions she did not want to deal with at the moment. So she asked Bock for a few days leave, ostensibly to finally get her head together after her brother’s death. Bock agreed readily enough and within the hour she was packed, saddled and riding away from the pressures of being proper.

She spent no ‘goodbyes’ on Brandt.

de Baard had no real destination in mind, just away. She needed to be alone to get her priorities in order. Events were not going as planned. She’d neither killed Gwaynn Massi as the High King ordered, nor seduced him as she desired, and now word was filtering down from the finger that the Fultan slut was pregnant. If true, it complicated things greatly. Even though she hated the very idea, de Baard had little doubt that the rumors were true. After all, pregnancy was the snare all peasant girls sought when they wished to raise their station. The red headed whore was no different. Who knew if the sniveling, slimy seed growing in her belly was even the Prince’s? No doubt the bitch had lured countless men to her honeyed crotch before Gwaynn, attracting them like flies no doubt. Hell, she’d probably even rutted with the dullard that always hung around…Cobb, yes that was his name. de Baard was surprised that Gwaynn could not see through such an old and worn out deception.

Unconsciously de Baard began to grind her pelvic region against the pommel of the saddle as she imagined what it would be like having the Prince’s seed inside her, impregnating her, his heir growing in her body. She felt the familiar warmth spread outward from deep in her belly. It was the feeling that almost always accompanied thoughts of Gwaynn Massi, and she was growing accustomed to them.

‘I cannot be tied to the slut’s death…not now,’ de Baard thought, almost in a panic. She rode along vaguely to the northeast though she was largely unaware of her surroundings. She was heading toward the sea, but angling away from Cape. She thought perhaps that the sight and smell of the familiar Inland Sea would help her concentrate, but she wanted to be as far away from any crowds as she could get.

She rode along in the fog of thoughts until suddenly she noticed that the day was growing to a close. Baal, her mount, was beginning to show serious signs of tiring, strong though he was. A thick film of sweat was casting a sheen on his glossy black hide. She pulled him to a walk and for the first time since leaving Manse looked about at the countryside. She was in a long, shallow valley with no town or farmhouse in sight. She had no idea where she was. She must have passed through a town, perhaps several at the speed she was riding, but she did not remember even one. She let Baal slowly walk to the top of a low hill just as the sun kissed the horizon. The vantage point was little better since it was a very low hill, but farther to the north and maybe a half a mile off the main road she spotted a lone farmhouse in the distance.

She climbed from Baal’s back and walked, letting him rest for a time, but she would mount once again as she got closer to her destination in order to make herself appear more imposing. Call it an Executioner’s instinct.

When she was within a quarter of a mile of the house she climbed back onto Baal’s back, but as she moved closer she realized it was a useless gesture. No one was in sight; no one was waiting. She rode up to the open front door just as it was getting dark and leaned over to look inside, but the hall and part of the one room that was visible was empty. She did not call out but instead coaxed Baal toward the barn behind the house. Its wide door was also open. She pulled to a stop in front of the open door and once again climbed from the horse. She pulled on Baal’s reins, leading him to the dim interior.

“Hallo there miss,” a voice came from above and de Baard glanced up to see an elderly man leaning out from the hayloft above.

“I’m a Captain in the King’s army and need a place to stay for the night,” de Baard announced in a commanding tone.

“King?” The old man asked. “King? What King?”

“King Gwaynn of course,” de Baard said simply and led Baal farther into the dark interior of the barn without asking. She heard the old man hobbling along above her head.

“Well why didn’t ya say so,” the man said, now all smiles as he moved to the ladder which descended from the loft. “Thought ya meant the other fellow. Never cared for him much.”

de Baard smiled and wondered what the old man would say if he knew he was standing in the presence of the person who’d killed ‘the other fellow.’ There were five open stalls all together and a mule in the sixth. She guided Baal into the farthest one on the right, away from the mule and began to unsaddle him.

“Allow me miss,” the old man said and hung the lantern he was carrying on a nearby hook. “Name’s Jasper, Jasper Fenn.” He introduced himself and held out a hand. de Baard looked at it but did not take his hand, so Fenn eventually dropped it.

“A Captain ya say,” he said, talking over the slight and pulling the heavy saddle from the horse’s back. “Master Gwaynn sure put a hurtin’ on the Deutzani I’d say.”

“King…King Gwaynn,” de Baard corrected.

“Yes miss,” Fenn answered bobbing his head. “You’ve been riding hard,” he said noticing the slick coat of Baal.

“Yes,” de Baard answered. “Is there a place where I can clean up as well?”

“Of course miss,” Fenn said and led her back to the door of the barn,

“Cyndee!” he yelled and for a brief moment de Baard thought he was yelling her name. When she turned rapidly toward him, he smiled and shied from her a bit. “My Missus,” he explained as he walked closer to the house.

“Cyndee!” he yelled once more and an extremely large, harsh looking woman appeared in the light at the back door. She eyed de Baard suspiciously.

“I heard ya the first time ya old fool,” the woman spat loudly and Fenn stopped walking toward the house.

“This is…this is…” the old man started, looking to de Baard for help.

“Captain de Baard,” she said softly, in sharp contrast to the hulking woman at the door. For some reason she did not want them to know she shared a name with the beast of the house.

“Captain?” Cyndee asked, eyeing de Baard with open hostility.

“Captain,” Fenn said quickly, taking a few steps forward. “In Lord Gwaynn’s army,” he explained.

Cyndee eyed de Baard a moment longer.

“She needs a room,” Fenn said in her defense.

“Well of course she does fool, it’s already dark out,” Cyndee yelled then shook her head. “Idgit,” she repeated with no attempt to even lower her voice. “Follow me.”

de Baard followed the large woman into a spacious kitchen that was full of delicious smells.  de Baard’s stomach growled as she realized she had not eaten since very early that morning. Food would be good and from the look of her Cyndee was undoubtedly a very good cook. The woman led her through the kitchen and up a set of stairs. Cyndee was so large in her lower half that her hips nearly brushed both walls of the narrow staircase that led up to the second floor. When Cyndee reached the top she was breathing heavily from the strain. She opened the first door and de Baard squeezed past her, not expecting much. Her instincts were as sharp as ever. The room was small and contained a narrow bed and a large chamber pot in the far corner. There was no fireplace and no chest of drawers. de Baard stared at the chamber pot, wondering why on earth it was so large. The old woman, who was following de Baard’s gaze, sniffed.

“You’ll be emptying that yorself,” she said gruffly and lit the lone candle in the room. “I’m not runnin’ an inn here.”

de Baard smiled slightly and her eyes actually twinkled. “Of course,” she replied in her silkiest voice and then set her small bag on the foot of the bed.

“There’s water in the trough out back,” the woman added already descending the stairs, “and if ya be wantin’ to eat, you’ll be helpin’ with the cookin’.”

Anger flared in de Baard’s chest and she was near the point of drawing her kali and sprinting down after the fat woman when she realized just how hungry she was, perhaps she would let the woman cook before she died. The aroma wafting up from the kitchen below was near paradise and her stomach growled loudly. de Baard took a deep breath then closed the door, again a slight smile on her face. She was going to kill someone today.

As she changed out of her riding clothes, de Baard could hear the old couple arguing downstairs but she had no interest whatsoever in their conversation. She no longer cared what they thought and a great pressure lifted from her shoulders. This trip was exactly what she needed. She was satisfying a craving for a need she hadn’t realized was empty.

Once changed, de Baard moved downstairs fully intending to let the old woman cook before killing anyone. Her kali were still strapped at her side however, and she was making no promises.

Cyndee, who was standing over the sink, glanced back and frowned when she noticed the weapons hanging from the woman’s waist. “Fenn thinks I ought not to make ya work, you being a Captain in the army and all,” the large woman began, turning just enough for de Baard to see she was stirring a large pot of boiling vegetables. On a spit over the fire was what looked to be a freshly plucked chicken. It was browning nicely and smelled divine.

“You a Captain in Prince Gwaynn’s army?” Cyndee asked.

de Baard nodded. “King Gwaynn’s army,” she corrected softly.

“Hmmmph. Well I’ll be lettin’ you decide then,” Cyndee said turning an intimidating glare on the tall beautiful woman relaxing in her kitchen. “You can help or not.”

de Baard took a seat and smiled sweetly at the large woman. “Alright then, I guess…not.” She answered and lifted one leg and rested her foot on the chair opposite her.

Cyndee’s brows furrowed in disapproval.

de Baard laughed, light and joyous, and for the next half hour she made no move to help at all. She just sat as the fat woman made a mixture of boiled potatoes, carrots and onions, baked a small loaf of bread and periodically turned the chicken as it cooked. As she worked de Baard ran over the many ways she could kill the Fultan slut without being discovered. Poison and miscarriage might be the best, though de Baard loathed the idea of not slicing into the bitch with her kali. Finally the heavenly smells of the food coaxed de Baard to rise. She moved past Cyndee to the stove where the vegetables were simmering. The old woman eyed her scornfully as de Baard picked up a spoon and stirred the boiling mixture, raising a piece of carrot and a potato to inspect them.

“Smells delicious,” de Baard said and meant it.

Cyndee frowned deeper, though the compliment pleased her. “It’s the chicken broth. Brings out the vegetables.”

Fenn pulled open the back door and walked in and caught de Baard with the spoon in her hand. He smiled.

“Smells wonderful…both of you,” he said. Cyndee glared at him.

“Shut it ya old numbskull.”

de Baard smiled but said nothing and both she and Fenn sat down and discussed the war news as Cyndee set the table and served the food. They all ate quietly for a time. The food was very, very good and de Baard ate heartily.

“So the old Deutzani King is dead?” Fenn asked obviously delighted, taking a large bite of bread.

“Hmmmph,” Cyndee said.

“Oh yes. He’s very dead,” de Baard answered with a slight smile for the nice old man and he beamed back at her, slightly dazed by her beauty.

“And ya say Pr…King Gwaynn is a fighter?”

“Yes…he’s very good,” she answered as she finished her chicken. It was every bit as good as it smelled. The vegetables were also excellent, but the bread was a bit undercooked.

“Hmmmph,” Cyndee mumbled again. de Baard glanced her way. The old woman was finished eating and was leaning back slightly, her arms crossed over her ample bosoms, clearly unimpressed.

“I see your kali,” Fenn said hastily, trying to cover his wife’s rudeness. Cyndee, sweet as she was, could be a bear at times, though when ya came to know her ya realized she didn’t mean nothin’ by it. “You a Captain of arms?”

de Baard nodded, a bit confused by the question.

“That’s something,” Fenn added with another wide smile. “I reckoned most woman fighters to be workin’ with the bow.”

“It ain’t proper for any woman to be a fightin’,” Cyndee finally said, confident her opinion was the only one that truly mattered. They were her first true words since supper was served.

de Baard sat utterly still, her thoughts drifting dangerously toward the bitch Samantha, at the mention of women fighting with the bow. She smiled sweetly at Cyndee.

“What was that?”

“She don’t mean nothing’.” Fenn said hastily. He was very practiced at smoothing over his wife’s rough edges with folk.

“Do too mean somethin’,” Cyndee retorted. “I mean it ain’t proper for woman to be fightin’. Tis man’s work.”

“Not proper?” de Baard asked, her right hand quivering ever so slightly, the itch beginning to build. She placed it lightly on the hilt of her kali to steady it.

“Not proper!” Cyndee repeated.

“Now ladies,” Fenn said.

“Not proper,” Cyndee insisted with a scowl. She didn’t much like the beautiful young woman who sat meekly at her table. “I’m surprised Prince Gwaynn didn’t just send ya away…not much better than a harlot.”

de Baard’s eyes widened slightly.

“Now Cyndee…” Jasper started, but his wife interrupted.

“No proper woman would…” Cyndee fumed but stopped in mid-sentenced as de Baard drew her sword and lashed out, hard and fast. A bright red smile appeared suddenly in Cyndee’s neck; blood ran freely over her numerous chins and flowed down the cavity between her large breasts. The woman’s head remained in place for a long moment, but then slid off to the left and fell to the floor with a loud thud. It bounced once and then rolled to a stop against the oven. Once free of its head her neck sprayed blood for several long moments but luckily it missed the table. Fenn just sat very still and stared at his wife, his mouth hanging open, her death not yet registering. Cyndee was so large and wide around the hips and buttocks that her body slumped but remained upright, sitting headless in the chair.

“It’s hard to think without a head,” de Baard whispered, staring at the decapitated corpse at the table, “and it’s not proper getting blood everywhere like that,” she finished then her eyes shifted to Fenn.

“Sorry Jasper,” she said softly and began to stand. She was surprised by the speed of the old man as he launched himself out of his chair and toward the back door. Quick as he was, de Baard was faster and sliced open his back from shoulders to hips. The old man spun with a scream and de Baard plunged her left kali through his open mouth and out the back of his neck, the force of the blow driving the sharp weapon deep into the heavy wooden door. Fenn hung pinned. He struggled and waved his arms about for longer than de Baard would have thought possible. She stood back and giggled softly at the man’s antics, watching as blood and drool dripped from his ruined mouth. His movements finally grew feeble but he was still alive when de Baard moved close and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Your wife was horrible,” she whispered. Jasper, close to death, wanted to object; he loved his wife despite her faults, but his mouth wouldn’t work and he died thinking of her. de Baard sighed, happy and then yanked the weapon free. Jasper slid down along the door, leaving a bright trail of red behind.

de Baard looked about at the carnage in the small kitchen and smiled. ‘Now I’ll have to get my own bath,’ she thought, not truly minding. She felt better than she had in months as she wiped her kali clean on Cyndee Fenn’s floral dress, the body still sitting neatly at the table.

“No please, don’t get up,” de Baard whispered and then giggled as she left the kitchen.

ǂ

Gwaynn returned to Manse nearly six weeks from the day of his departure, and the change was utterly astounding.

“Incredible!” Krys uttered as they rode closer and closer to the outer defenses of the rapidly growing city. Manse itself was not yet visible in the distance, but all along the entrance to the oxbow new fortifications were taking shape and hundreds of men and women were busy building and adding to them.

“Bock’s amazing,” Samantha whispered and Gwaynn found that he agreed completely. The transformation was dramatic. The main thoroughfare leading out of the oxbow was wide and slightly elevated; the banks of the road near the city were reinforced with large thick timbers to help keep it from washing away. At the moment the way was packed with carts and wagons, all loaded with goods being transported between the Plateau and the busy port city of Cape. A large levee now blocked most of the opening in the oxbow and the road was the only way in and out unless you wanted to get wet and wade across the Scar River.

Bock waited patiently for them just outside the newly erected city gates. He was mounted on a chestnut mare named McGurk. He gently scratched her neck as his King and his army approached closer. Gwaynn and Samantha led the long column of men, and flapping in the wind above them was the banner of Massi, a white eagle on a dark blue field. Bock’s heart soared just seeing the image, he’d almost forgotten. Gwaynn studied the defenses closely as he rode up. The first thing that struck him was the massive gates which now towered over the flat plains below. They were anchored on either side to the high levee that made up the first line of the city’s new defenses. The gates were wide open at the moment and Gwaynn could see that they were very thick. They soared high above the road and were very impressive. Across the entire oxbow, Bock and his men excavated a large trench that was nearly twenty feet wide. Gwaynn could see that it joined with the Scar River to the west but the eastern end was lost from view. There was no telling how deep the trench was since at the moment it was filled with water diverted from the river. The water was a muddy brown and filled with fresh sediment and flowed slowly past the gates to the east.

On the far side of the trench, obviously made from the excavated dirt and rock, was a solid mound of earth, a protective berm nearly fifteen feet high. Work was still continuing on the earthen mound but near the gates it was already complete. To the east, Gwaynn could see that the levee was being erected over a strong latticework of thick timbers, ostensibly to reinforce the earthen wall. Protruding out of the thick wooden braces were long, sharpened iron spikes positioned at regular intervals. The spikes were angled downward and sticking wickedly out of the earthen works for at least a foot and a half. They would pose a nasty problem, threatening anyone attempting to climb up to the top of the mound from the watery trench below. From the looks of it, the protective levee was almost halfway completed.

Bock waited patiently on the lone bridge that now spanned the trench at the gates. He waited with Captain Marcum on one side and the formidable Lee Brandt on the other. As Gwaynn and his troop approached, a slight smile appeared on the General’s face.

“Welcome home, M’lord,” he said as Gwaynn came to a stop before him.

“I see you’ve been busy,” Gwaynn commented, understating the obvious. As they spoke hundreds of men and women continued to work, setting spikes deep into the ground, while others were tending to the new earthen walls. Now that he was closer Gwaynn could see new sprouts of grass growing from the sides of the dirt levee close to the gates.

“Wild grass,” Krys commented with an amused smile, “it will make a lovely little obstacle for the Temple Knights.”

Brandt laughed, but Bock only nodded. “Can’t have all our work eroding with the next heavy rain,” he explained then pointed farther to the west. “We’ve already begun to build the double wall atop the levee where it meets the Scar River. It’ll make up the main line of our defense. It’ll be saw-toothed, ten feet high and anchored to the timbers built into the ground,” he added and held his hands out in a “V” formation to show exactly what he meant, “mainly for archer protection.” Bock continued and smiled as Samantha’s eyes lit up.

“A double wall?” Gwaynn asked.

Bock nodded. “Two wooden walls about a foot and a half apart. We’re filling the gap with rock and dirt for strength and for protection against fire. It won’t be as substantial as stone walls but sturdy enough. As the hill stabilizes the construction will go much faster. The mill is running day and night cutting the planks and braces.”

“Who thought of the design?” Samantha asked excitedly.

“Was Hahn’s idea,” Bock told her, “should afford us at least a little protection.”

“You’re walling us in,” Krys said, voicing Gwaynn’s own thoughts.

Bock shrugged. “As long as we’re not attacked from the plains and the Plateau at the same time we should have an avenue of escape if things go wrong.”

“What’s to keep the enemy from pinning us up on the Plateau and starving our army?”

Bock smiled. “Travelers,” he said simply and Gwaynn frowned, thinking perhaps his General was overestimating the power of na Gall. He said nothing however, as Bock led him and his army through the gates and into the now teeming oxbow; Manse was expanding rapidly.  Everyone fell quiet as they got their first glimpse of the new city. The road they were on held straight and true all the way through the heart of the city, but the oxbow was now broken up into uniformed grids. There were buildings going up everywhere but not in the haphazard fashion of old. This would be a city of right angles.

“Unbelievable,” Krys said then whistled.

“I want to be able to move men rapidly from the Plateau to the wall,” Bock explained, “and I don’t want winding roads and poor planning slowing them down.”

Gwaynn smiled and wished Master Sath was here to see this. He felt sure his old mentor would be proud. In Gwaynn’s estimation Bock was the most indispensible man in Massi.

“This is perfect,” Gwaynn said and didn’t bother to keep the awe from his voice.

Lonogan nodded his head. “I hoped you’d like it.”

Gwaynn grinned. “I do, I do, but I’m still worried about being hemmed in. Even with my help, na Gall won’t be able to move enough men and horses around to keep our army from being neutralized.”

Bock smiled. “Zarina Monde arrived this morning,” he explained. “It seems the High Council on Noble was growing uneasy about her continued presence on their Island.”

“Monde?” Gwaynn asked, slightly puzzled and began to wonder at the motives of his old adopted home. The Tars of Noble never acted lightly or without reason. He would like to talk with Tar Kostek and find out just how the Tars were viewing the continued conflict. Well, maybe now he would have his chance.

“Why here?” Krys asked, the worry on his face mirroring Gwaynn’s thoughts.

Bock chuckled loudly, drawing the attention of a group of nearby soldiers who were at the moment erecting a wall to a new barracks. The men nearest Gwaynn stopped their work and bowed their heads respectfully, a few shouted out greetings which Gwaynn returned.

“She’s quite honest about her decision,” Bock continued. “She claims to have had several offers for sanctuary…Lato and the Cassinni to name a few, but she’d not put them in danger. Monde believes the Massi are the only people in more danger than the Travelers at the moment, so her choice was obvious. But I’m glad she came. She brought nine Speakers with her, along with some of her older students…the youngest she sent back to their homelands.”

“Where is she now?” Gwaynn asked.

“She’s moved down to the Gap,” Bock answered, “it seems little Laynee has recently joined the ranks of the Travelers. Monde has gone to work more closely with her but she plans to be back tonight.”

Gwaynn smiled thinking of Laynee. ‘A Traveler…that’s good. We may have need of her before the end. Nine Speakers!”

They moved through the city proper, which was rebuilding rapidly from the fire, though now in a much more orderly design. The main road was nearly twice as wide as before and arrow straight. But again, like on Gwaynn’s very first visit to Manse, lumber wagons completely filled the large thoroughfare. Bock caught his look.

“Business is good,” Lonogan said with another smile but then became serious once more. “We are sealing up the gaps in the Scar, if the Toranado can hold out for another few weeks we should be in good enough shape to repel any attack from the plains.”

They crossed the bridge over the Scar River and moved up to the Plateau, Gwaynn saw another mass of men working on a set of impressive fortifications. Now guarding the road to the Plateau were two circular motte and bailey style fortresses with only a thirty-foot gap between them. The lower holds of the two baileys were nearly finished but work was still being done on the upper levels.

“Your castles Sire, just as you requested,” Bock stated a little mockingly. “It will have to do for a while until we can proceed with stone.”

“What of Lynndon, General?” Gwaynn teased back, “and the Aleria Passage?”

The smile fell from Lonogan’s face.

“Preparations at Lynndon are underway and are of no real concern. The Aleria Pass will be the danger,” Bock answered as they moved up and between the two baileys. Gwaynn was surprised to find that he was happy to be back on the Plateau.

“We have no way to fortify the pass,” Bock continued. “It’s much larger than the Gap and would take a sizeable force to seal it off. If the Temple Knights decide to enter through that route we will be hard pressed not to lose the Plateau.”

“Great,” Krys mumbled mostly to himself. “How many men would it take to hold the pass?”

Bock shook his head. “Fifteen thousand.”

Krys and Samantha whistled in unison then smiled at each other.

“But against the Temple Knights the figure may have to be doubled,” the General amended.

Gwaynn frowned, that was nearly the size of his entire army. It was definitely a worry. Perhaps instead of a fortress here at Manse, Bock was building a diversion. The beginning of an idea flittered about Gwaynn’s mind, teasingly close, but then they broke away from the new construction and caught sight of the vast, flat lands of the Plateau. An enormous area around them was currently filled with groups of men training for combat. Gwaynn spotted Hahn in the distance working with several thousand archers, and closer in there were large groups of soldiers working with pikes, swords and a few smaller groups with katas. They all watched for several moments, each impressed by the sheer scale of the training.

“Holy…how many?” Krys asked, thoroughly amazed.

“Seven thousand…give or take,” Bock answered. “They’ve been pouring in from all over the plains.”

“Ha!” Samantha yelled and spurred Maggie off toward the archers, but not before she shot a dazzling smile back at Gwaynn.

Bock laughed again. “I’m glad to have all of you back; Tanner needs to work hard with the new cavalry. They’ll be essential.”

Gwaynn and Krys watched the men closest to them work with katas.

“Are they heavy?” Gwaynn asked.

Bock nodded, following the King’s gaze. “All of them, katas, pikes, swords, everything but the bows, double the weight of their counterparts.

Krys whistled again, watching the men. “They’re improving.”

Bock agreed with the assessment. “Yes and growing stronger. Some are now veterans of two major battles, but we still need you and Gwaynn to begin working with them. Cyndar is a nasty little fighter, full of tricks, but she’s uncomfortable training anyone, let alone large groups…” His voice trailed off when he noticed Gwaynn’s attention was fixed on a pair of nearby soldiers working with katas. Bock wondered at it as Gwaynn rode slowly forward.

“Hold your left kata higher, Jake of Bern,” Gwaynn said interrupting the two men, but then motioned for them to continue. Jake looked up and caught sight of Gwaynn and Krys.

“Jake, the protector of Bern,” Krys interjected with a smile of his own. “Do as the King commands, hold your left higher. You’ll get knots on the side of your head if ignore such prudent advice.”

Jake smiled in greeting and pulled his left hand higher. But he was nearly exhausted and the heavy kata felt as if it were made of lead. Nevertheless he faced his opponent, ready to spar, but before they could begin Gwaynn was off his horse and approaching. Both men bowed slightly, but Gwaynn just shook his head.

“Continue,” he said softly and studied the two as they moved through a few forms before he stopped them once again. “Katas,” he yelled and another pair almost magically appeared.

“You’re tired,” Gwaynn said to both of them, “but if you keep your guard too low you’ll waist time and energy. A low guard complicates everything. It’s much harder to deflect an attack coming from the shoulders up, and you’ll likely lose your head. Keep your guard high; it’s much easier and more fluid to move downward. The entire earth is behind such a move. Use her to your advantage. Look…here,” he said and assumed the basic form, right kata chest high, left kata shoulder high, both points facing outward away from his body. “From this point your entire body is well defended and you can attack and defend at speed. Krys.”

His Weapons Master jumped from his horse, eager for a bit of exercise. Another set of katas appeared and they were now surrounded by a group of excited young men; most were newcomers and had yet to see their new King fight…but they’d all heard stories.

The two did not spar long, just a few quick bursts of speed and energy to demonstrate the wisdom behind the teaching. But they moved with such swiftness and exhibited such skill that even Lonogan was left a little breathless. Yes, he was very happy the King and his army had returned home. The soldiers, who’d gathered around to watch the sparring gasped at some of the more impressive moves and then applauded heartily, Jake of Bern the loudest of them all.

Gwaynn worked a while longer with them all, adjusting certain inadequacies but generally just encouraged the men.

“It’s good to have you with us,” he finally said to Jake, patting him on the shoulder before mounting up once more. “We’ll begin your true training tomorrow,” he added and glanced out in Samantha’s direction. She was busy working with Hahn and he knew there would be no luring her away, so he turned with Lonogan and headed back to most famous lumber mill in all of Massi.

Over a dozen men gathered around Jake as the King’s party road back off the Plateau. They jostled him playfully, though they all showed him a new respect.

“In tight with the King…” one older soldier ribbed Jake as if he were teasing the younger man about a girl.

Jake smiled. “They tried to pick a fight with me a while back, but they backed down. Lucky for them I guess...”

Laughter erupted loud enough for Gwaynn to hear but he did not turn back to look, instead he just rode on smiling.

II

The Executioner Ira Lacombe landed in Heron without any feeling of homecoming at all. He was Massi, but this land was never really his home. This was only the second time he’d returned since leaving more than two decades ago at the age of twelve. His last visit to Massi was nearly five years previous, when he was hired to kill a wealthy merchant who’d been greedy and foolish enough to steal from the wrong people. Lacombe returned to the land of his birth to execute the man and his family.

Standing on the bustling dock, the memory of the kill brought a smile to Lacombe’s face, for though the merchant was old, his wife was much younger. Young and firm she was, and though she was not a true beauty, she made up for it with robust enthusiasm in bed. Of course it was feigned enthusiasm brought on by the threat of death…but it was enjoyable enthusiasm nonetheless. Lacombe could not recall the woman’s name but he clearly remembered how eager she was to please, eager in many, many ways, and even though she showed great promise and a genuine talent in the carnal pleasures, Lacombe still took her life in the end. She squirmed with true enthusiasm as he strangled her slowly. He remembered how her eyes bulged and pleaded for mercy right up until the moment she died. She received none of course and when it was over he hung her naked body in front of her manor home as a warning to others. Yes, he remembered the woman well, even if he could not remember her name.

And now he was “home” once more, ironically to kill another woman, but this target was far deadlier than his last Massi victim. Lacombe was absent when the Tarina de Baard challenged and killed Tar Wazzner, but his spies spoke of her uncanny speed and skill. They also mentioned her beauty, but Lacombe doubted he would be able to coerce any sexual satisfaction from the Tarina before her death. No, he could not let his attention wander. He would have to be satisfied with the kill. He did not deceive himself. de Baard must be good, very good for it was not often that the High Tar of the Sinis warned of being mindful after issuing the kill order. Lacombe knew he would have to be careful, cunning and quick. There was little doubt that de Baard would recognize him for what and who he was, so the kill must come very fast and at the very first opportunity.

Lacombe looked about the dock in the early morning light as he waited for Sunwind, his large brown mare to be off-loaded. She was not his favorite, but she would draw no unwanted attention. He was playing the part of a warrior now; at least until de Baard was in his sights. He was dimly aware of the crowd moving about him. Those nearest the man from Sinis unconsciously gave him a wide berth without fully knowing why. Instinctively, in the deepest recesses of their minds, they labeled Lacombe as dangerous and skipped past as quickly as possible and when they were by, nearly all felt an odd form of relief. For his part Lacombe ignored the people around him…just so much clutter.

“I’m heading for Manse to join with Prince Gwaynn,” Lacombe said to the man leading Sunwind from the belly of the trireme. “Is there a contact in Heron?”

The man shrugged and turned away. Lacombe fought down the urge to kill him for such insolence.

“Essain…he’s a dock rat and a gambler,” the man spoke without turning around. “You’ll find him at the Suckling Pig. He should know.”

Lacombe frowned. “The Suckling Pig?”

The man stopped at the very top of the gangway, half turned and pointed to the south. “Tavern, just up the dock a ways.”

The man did not wait but continued up onto the boat, but it was just as well, Lacombe would not have thanked him in any case.

The Executioner climbed up on Sunwind and made his way quickly in the direction indicated. He found the Suckling Pig with little difficulty, and from the smell, the tavern was aptly named.

As a stranger and a lone traveler, Lacombe garnered a few lengthy stares as he entered and made his way up to the bar. Surprisingly, the place was noisy and crowded. The Executioner cringed at the mixture of offensive smells, the strongest of which were currently battling for supremacy. When Lacombe found an opening at the bar he was still debating if the victor was the fetid smell of unwashed bodies or the pungent odor of frying fish. An enormous barmaid with a pair of tits each the size of her head leaned over and smiled a welcome at him. Lacombe decided then and there that the smell of unwashed bodies was champion.

“What kin’ I do ya for?” the woman asked, her breasts nearly falling from the top of her bodice and her sour breath added to the aroma of unpleasantness.

“I’m looking for Essain,” Lacombe said, very careful not to touch her or the bar with his bare hands.

The woman’s eyes darted over his left shoulder and then back. “Care for a room?” She asked still smiling, “and maybe a bit of exercise?”

Lacombe’s right hand twitched toward his kali, but he fought off the desire. “Just Essain for now, but if my luck holds…who knows.”

The woman smiled wider, showing a mouthful of yellowing teeth. “He’s in the far corner…games already started.”

Lacombe nodded and began to move away but stopped as the woman reached out and grabbed his left forearm. The Executioner turned back quickly and the smiling woman saw something lethal in his eyes. She jerked her hand back as if scalded. Lacombe fixed his gaze on her for another moment, holding her captive with fear, before turning away again. He moved through the crowded bar without hurry, though he wanted nothing more than to be done with his time here.

The game was loud and crowded with shouting men and squealing whores.

‘The Suckling Pig indeed,’ Lacombe thought as he forced his way to the front.

“Essain,” he said loudly and a slim man with long dark hair and a sharp dark beard looked up and met his eyes.

The crowd was involved in some kind of dice game and seemed annoyed at the interruption.

“A word,” Lacombe requested then held up a few gold pieces between his thumb and forefinger. At the sight of real coin, the frown fell from Essain’s face. He motioned to a few of his comrades, one of which slid neatly into his place as the gambler rose.

“Come,” Essain, said smiling. “We will talk in the back…it’s more private,” he added and led the way passed the bar; missing the wary look the barmaid was sporting. Lacombe followed, as did two of Essain’s larger associates. The group moved through the kitchen which was also full of offensive smells and into a large private room which was furnished well and surprisingly spotless. Essain moved quickly behind a large oak desk and sat in an expensive looking plush chair. He motioned for Lacombe to be seated but the Executioner merely stood and tossed the gold pieces to the gambler, who snatched both pieces deftly out of the air with one hand and then seemed very pleased with the accomplishment.

“I’m heading to Manse to join with Prince Gwaynn. I thought perhaps you might know of others traveling in the direction,” Lacombe said. He was aware of the two large men who stood at his back, directly inside the door to the room, but he felt no real apprehension.

Essain eyed the stranger before him quietly for a moment. The man was armed with kali and had the look of a fighting soldier, but that was of little concern to Essain. He’d prospered under Deutzani rule and his strength and power were continuing to build under the lawless rule of…Prince Gwaynn.

“You mean King Gwaynn,” Essain said finally speaking, wondering if the man before him was a gifted warrior or just another fool in the search of glory.

Lacombe smiled for a brief instant. “King Gwaynn…I’d not heard.”

Essain shrugged. “It’s what the rabble call him. Are you good with those?” He asked nodding toward the swords that hung at the waist of the Executioner.

Lacombe smiled once more. “Adequate,” he answered.

“I’m always looking for good men,” Essain said then frowned as Lacombe immediately shook his head.

“Sorry,” he answered, though he was not.

“Well then,” Essain answered suddenly angry and Lacombe felt the men at his back tense, though he remained quietly relaxed. “Paulo is the man you need to see. Paulo Carnnetti, merchant in the Garden district. Personal friend of the King, so I’m told.”

Lacombe nodded ever so slightly and turned to go.

“Your purse,” Essain said lightly. “If you’re going to war you’ll not be needin’ it.”

Without turning back Lacombe drew his kali so swiftly that the two men at the door barely had time to lay a hand on their own weapons and they lost their heads in unison, their blood spraying about the lavishly furnished room. Lacombe spun again and was once more facing Essain before the two bodyguards even realized they were dead. The dead men fell into one another, did a slow pirouette like a pair of drunken dancers, and then dropped to the floor with a single thud.

The gambler’s eyes were wide with fear and surprise, but he was quick and managed to throw the knife he kept hidden in his waistcoat and though Essain was very good with his knives, he rushed his throw a bit in his panic. The man before him did not move or even flinch as the knife flew past his left ear and buried itself in the doorframe beyond.

Lacombe smiled. “Chance is a dangerous, fickle partner,” he whispered drawing closer, watching intently for any overt move the man before him might try.

“You, being what you are, should know that better than anyone. For years good fortune may walk hand in hand beside you, docile and submissive, like a sweet young lover, but then one day, without word or warning, you‘re abandoned and all alone, naked and without a friend…such is chance.”

“He…here,” Essain said trying to sink further back into his chair while holding out the two gold coins and wondering if his luck had truly run out.

Lacombe smiled and shook his head. “Keep them,” he answered, “but I will take your right hand in exchange.”

“Wha…what?”

“Your right hand or your life,” Lacombe said and slashed a kali through the air close enough that Essain felt it’s passing on his cheek.

The gambler thought about crying out, but knew the shout would be lost in the noise of the tavern. He doubted anyone could reach him in time at any rate. “I have money.”

Lacombe shook his head and stared directly into the gambler’s eyes. “Your hand or your neck. You decide now. Hold out your hand or die.”

Essain stared back, caught. The eyes of the man before him showed no feeling at all, and certainly no pity. Essain whimpered as Lacombe pulled back his kali for the killing stroke but at the last minute the gambler thrust out his right hand and closed his eyes. Lacombe smiled, sheathed his left kali and clasped the hand in his. Essain opened his eyes, relieved, at least until the right kali sliced neatly through his wrist. He screamed and was still screaming as Lacombe opened the door and strode through the kitchen and the tavern beyond. He moved slowly through the bar, Essain’s hand still clutched in his own; the severed wrist dripping a bloody trail behind him.

The Executioner stepped outside the tavern and took a deep breath of fresh salty air. It was late and the afternoon sunshine had given way to clouds and the promise of a late summer rain. He stepped out into the muddy street and up to Sunwind, who snorted at the smell of blood. Lacombe smiled and dropped Essain’s right hand and then kicked it under the porch of the Suckling Pig.

“Let us find more suitable lodgings shall we,” he said to his horse and they headed off in the direction of the Garden district.

ǂ

Traveler Jess na Gall came awake not to the clanging of alarm bells, but to the sounds of shouting, running feet and the banging of doors. At first she thought little of it; after all during a siege in wartime, such noises were common. But gradually she became aware that her bed and the floor beneath it were shaking, and then the roar began. The sound was soft at first, like a newborn’s sigh, but then it grew in volume until na Gall was sure her section of the keep would collapse at any moment. She lay utterly still; terrified as the floor began to shake harder, the roar growing so loud it was as if the Black Horseman himself was thundering her way, excited and anxious to finish a job long overdue. The Traveler could almost feel the pounding of horse hooves shaking the soft downy mattress beneath her and she bolted upright in the dark of her room, eyes wide with dawning horror.

‘The Palmerrio tunnel,’ she thought, finally coming fully awake. She jumped from her bed and dressed in rapid fashion, then sprinted into the hallway. Chaos surrounded her. The hallway was filled with dust, smoke and soldiers running in every direction. na Gall picked her way carefully down the hallway, stepping over debris and holding her hand over her nose in an attempt to filter out some of the dust. She struggled against the press of bodies, trying to reach the Queen’s private quarters. Luckily she didn’t have far to go.

“What’s happened?” She asked the pair of sentries standing outside and guarding the way to the Queen. Both shook their heads in unison and shrugged.

“Not sure yet Ma’am,” one of them answered, clearly excited and a little afraid. na Gall moved past them and they made no move to stop her. She entered to find the Queen already awake and dressed.

Captain Trammel, head of the castle guard, was at the window. They both looked up as the Traveler entered.

“You must take her now!” Trammel shouted loudly.

na Gall glanced at Ramona as Sanja, her old valet, came from the back rooms dragging several large trunks behind him.

“What’s happened?” na Gall asked.

“They fired the tunnel beneath the keep,” the Queen explained. “When it collapsed it took the entire southwest corner. We’re exposed.”

“You must Travel now!” Trammel insisted, but Ramona just shook her head. “I will wait for my guard,” she answered calmly.

“Sanja, go and collect Jory and the others. Meet us on the upper veranda,” the Queen added. Sanja bowed low and with only a slightly quickened pace, left the room.

“Come Captain let us go and see for ourselves,” Ramona added and moved out of the main room, passed her bedroom and along a hall which eventually led to a narrow stone staircase. They ascended quickly and came out at the very top of the northern most tower. Without prompting they all headed directly toward the southwest corner of the balcony.

The scene was one of utter destruction; a full three-quarters of the south wall had collapsed taking a quarter of the western wall with it. Though they could not see anything because of the darkness and dust, they could hear the roar of enemy troops as they finally entered the last stronghold of Toranado resistance.

“It’s over M’lady,” Trammel whispered softly. “We must get you out.” He glanced at na Gall, who nodded, then glided to the center of the veranda and began to weave a bridge to Manse. She knew it would have to be large and strong in order to save as many brave Toranadians as possible. She shook her head slightly thinking that this was all she was able to do anymore, create bridges for innocents to escape certain death. It was becoming a sad pattern; it was becoming a way of life. But before the bridge was even complete, she felt the presence of the young Prince Gwaynn Massi. She smiled to herself, comforted. He was ready; he would assist. The bridge rapidly coalesced into existence.

“No M’lady. We will hold them at the base of the tower for as long as we are able,” na Gall heard the Captain say as she once again became aware of her surroundings. The veranda was now crowded with people, with more emerging from the stairwell every second. na Gall glanced at the Queen, who had tears running down her face.

“Travel,” she told them all. “Prince Gwaynn is waiting.”

ǂ

Tarina Cyn de Baard returned to Manse three hours after Gwaynn and the army arrived. She felt refreshed, renewed, more herself. She was in control again. Gwaynn’s long absence allowed her enough time to come to her senses regarding her present situation. Despite her lapse, her weakness, she now knew she was in a near perfect position to complete her assignment and kill the young Massi Prince. And kill him she would, no matter the growing army that surrounded him, no matter his breathtaking fighting skill, no matter her love. He had to die; she knew that now. It was the only way to be free of the yoke he’d hatefully placed around her heart. She was an Executioner, a Tarina, and no one; not even the Prince of Massi was going to enslave her like some mindless beast of burden. Oh, she was going to kill Gwaynn Massi all right, and if things went to plan she might even be able to plant a kiss on his lips as his life ran away from him. If she couldn’t share his life, well then she would be happy to share death with him, after all it was the most intimate of human moments. She felt the familiar warmth spread up from her crotch as she thought of the Massi Prince. Thinking of his death, the heady feeling became even more intense and de Baard smiled to herself. She would almost be happy to see Brandt once again. She needed him on top of her.

Satisfied she was in control once more; she greeted several workers with a dazzlingly false smile as she passed through the newly constructed gates. The defenses were coming along fast and she knew the Temple Knights would be hard pressed to fight their way through them, Palmerrio allies or no. She actually felt a little pride for the people around her, they were working hard and training harder, but that would not keep her from using all her skill to bring about their destruction. She moved through the rapidly growing town and headed directly toward Lonogan’s lumber mill where she still kept a room. It had become her sanctuary, a place where she could relax after a grueling day of smiling, acting pleasant and training the peasants of this land. She shivered just thinking about it, but put on her most congenial face as she moved by people who considered her a friend. She would have liked nothing better than to gather them all up and burn them in a single fire. They could all burn, feeling of pride or not.

Despite her new found balance, de Baard felt her heartbeat accelerating as she moved closer and closer to the mill and was slightly disgusted with herself.

‘Perhaps the Prince will be there,’ she thought then grimaced, so appalled she had to spit, as if the thought had somehow become trapped in the saliva she expelled. She fought to get control once more, then she spotted Eve and her stomach did a little flip.

‘He must die! He must die! He must die!’ She chanted to herself over and over again as she dismounted. She climbed from her horse, and found the feeling of the ground beneath her feet very satisfying. She stretched a moment, reluctant to go inside, afraid her new found resolve would be blown away like so much dust. She was about to start forward when suddenly he was there, walking toward her through the large doors of the mill. Their eyes met and for the briefest moment de Baard was sure she saw pleasure shining from his face and something more, something like desire. He smiled and she found herself smiling back at him like an idiot, but then the bitch followed him out and the illusion collapsed.

‘He must die!’ She thought stubbornly to herself. Her resolve intensified when the lumbering Lee Brandt exited the mill and took what seemed like two strides before he was upon her. He lifted her effortlessly from the ground and she forced herself to smile at him as he twirled her around.

‘You must die first,’ she thought as he set her down and took her small hand in his.

“This is just great,” he said excitedly. “Have you heard the news?”

de Baard frowned slightly and shook her head.

“Samantha’s pregnant,” he said and with a laugh lifted her easily from her feet once more. “We have an heir to protect!”

de Baard suddenly felt sick and it took all of her training to keep the false smile on her face as she congratulated both Prince and bitch, then claiming to be tired from her travels she moved inside to attempt to compose herself. Brandt insisted on following her, hoping no doubt to help with the removal of her pants. She might just let him, but his presence did nothing to calm the roaring symphony of anger and hate playing in her mind.

ǂ

Gwaynn stood in the background as Zarina Monde arrived from the Gap. Accompanying her was Prince Phillip, his Weapons Master Alba Tabernas and Laynee. They reached the growing city of Manse only twenty minutes after Jess na Gall and Queen Ramona appeared along with one hundred and fifty-four additional survivors from the fall of Eno.

The loss of the Toranado city was devastating and put the Massi people in great danger, but when Gwaynn caught sight of the Toranado Queen he felt nothing but compassion and gratitude for her and her people. The siege had obviously been very hard on her. Ramona looked tired and haggard; the strain on her nerves aging her to such an extent that both Gwaynn and Samantha were shocked by her appearance.

“You’re safe for the moment,” Gwaynn said embracing her. It was still dark; sunrise would not come for several more hours.

“Cousin,” was all she managed as she allowed herself to be led away to rest and regain her strength.

Phillip on the other hand smiled widely as he stepped through the Traveler bridge. He rushed up to Gwaynn and clapped him on the back with youthful exuberance. He was happy to be back in Manse, though the sight of a few of the soldiers from Eno quickly tempered his mood.

“Mother?” he asked.

“Sleeping, I hope,” na Gall answered. She too looked tired but stayed to welcome the High Zarina to Manse, plus she wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to show off Gwaynn.

“Is mother well?” Phillip asked, clearly concerned, the news of Eno’s fall etched on his face.

na Gall nodded. “As well as could be hoped for. The loss of the fleet…and Admiral Cantu dealt her a hard blow.”

Gwaynn winced at the mention of the lost fleet. They would face the Temple Knights soon now. There was nothing for it, no one to stop them.

“We’ve made contact with Captain Wicks, the Speaker Tearrio is with her now,” Phillip stated, his face tinged slightly red from the shame of the defeat. “She’s making alterations to the remainder of the…the fleet, the King will not surprise us again. But we no longer have enough ships to guard the entire northern coast of Massi…there may be enough to keep the harbor at Cape safe, but little more.”

“The Toranado fleet dealt an equal blow to the High King and the Palmerrio,” na Gall said.

“Hmmmph,” was all Prince Phillip managed then turned to Gwaynn once more. “I’d like to see her,” he added, and Gwaynn motioned for one of his aides to show the Toranado Prince to his mother.

As they left, the Toranado Weapons Master smiled briefly. “You’ve spent your time well,” he said in his high, sing-song voice, noticing the change in the immediate surroundings despite the dark hour.

“Wait until sunrise,” Gwaynn replied. “The change is astounding.”

“You are to be commended,” Tabernas added.

“Lonogan gets the credit. I’ve been on something of a joy ride through my country.”

“Your country…yes,” Tabernas answered, feeling happy for the young man despite the recent loss of his own country.

“Gwaynn!” Laynee yelled dancing from one foot to the other, ignoring the look of exasperation she was getting from the High Zarina at her side. The young girl was geared up and excited about something despite the lateness of the hour. “I’m a Traveler Gwaynn! I did it! Just like you,” she said and hugged him at the waist then stepped back, blushing a bit.

“I knew you would be a Traveler,” Gwaynn said smiling slightly at the girl’s obvious embarrassment before raising his gaze to the High Zarina, who stood just behind Laynee. Gwaynn was surprised at the Zarina’s small stature, but he could see strength in her eyes.

“A Traveler,” she said, one eyebrow raised slightly.

Gwaynn bowed. “High Zarina.”

“Our enemies are growing strong,” she said and returned his bow with a slight one of her own.

“We still have a few friends,” he answered, choosing to ignore her pessimism, and the older woman was surprised at the young man’s calm manner. She glanced briefly at na Gall, who was wearing a smug expression. “Do you need to rest?” Gwaynn asked thinking of his own warm bed with Samantha already in it. “I can show you to your rooms.”

Monde shook her head. “It’s too late for that now. I’m wide awake from the excitement, perhaps later,” she answered. “If I could, I would like to have a word in private with you.”

Gwaynn nodded, suddenly wary. “Of course,” he said, curious, then turned to Marcum, who was becoming one of his chief aides as well as a trusted advisor. Gwaynn would miss him when he sent the Captain on to Lynndon to command the town’s defenses. But they must be ever vigilant with the eastern border, the Deutzani were not to be trusted. “Could you see to the others?”

“Of course M’lord,” Marcum answered.

“This way then,” Gwaynn added and indicated that Monde should follow.

“Jess,” was all the High Traveler said and the three of them headed inside one of the newly built bailey fortresses. It was not quite finished but would be within the week; however the lower courtyard was completely done and held a large barracks, a stable, and a center keep with a great hall for dining plus a few private rooms. Gwaynn was currently quartered in the largest private room, but he led the Travelers to the dining hall where a small fire was burning in the central fireplace. Everything still smelled strongly of newly cut timber. The large room was dominated by two long, plain but sturdy tables, accompanied by four equally long benches. Near the central fire was a group of perhaps half dozen simple wooden chairs otherwise the room was empty and unadorned; after all it was a fighting fortress and needed few luxuries. Such things may come in time, but for now, function was far more important than form.

Gwaynn led them to a small cluster of chairs and they took their seats without a word.

“Tar Nev trained you,” Monde said, though because it was not framed as a question, Gwaynn simply sat quietly and made no answer.

Monde pursed her lips and glanced once more at na Gall.

“I can assume he is also a Traveler,” she added, needing to know, needing to be sure. If Nev could Travel, he might be the explanation to the High King’s sudden and deadly attack on the inhabitants of the Isle of Light.

Gwaynn shrugged.

“I would like to know,” Monde insisted.

“He never Traveled in my presence, nor trained me in the art of Traveling during my time with him. What I know of Traveling I learned from Zarina na Gall,” Gwaynn answered.

Monde frowned. “The High King tried to wipe out the Travelers. He killed many of us including the High Zarina Aleecia. I need to know why. If Tar Nev can Travel…”

Gwaynn remained silent for a time and cursed his moment of weakness with na Gall all those weeks ago.

“Jess tells me you’ve admitted that Tar Nev can Travel, perhaps other Tars from Noble can as well,” Monde continued. “It would explain why they never allowed any Travelers to stay on their island until…”

Gwaynn grimaced, not wanting to lie outright to the High Zarina, but he promised Nev that he would keep this secret close. “Tar Nev never Traveled in front of me.”

“But he can Travel?”

Gwaynn shrugged once more. “You will have to ask him that question.”

Monde frowned once more and drummed her fingers on the table.

“I would like you to Travel for me,” she stated, shocking Gwaynn, and he thought for a moment to simply Travel by means of the twenty-nine steps of concentration. She would be able to garner no information by that.

“Please,” Monde finally said going soft. It was the perfect tactic with Gwaynn, who groaned inwardly, feeling suddenly shameful. If not for Jess na Gall’s help, Samantha might not be alive today. He felt a great deal of loyalty to Tar Nev but he also wanted to help the High Zarina.

“We have helped you and Massi,” the Zarina continued as if reading his mind. “We will continue to help you and Massi.”

Gwaynn smiled ruefully and nodded. “We appreciate and honor your aid,” he said, meaning it. “If you wish, I will Travel,” he added, deciding on the spot to manipulate time to give this woman a true measure of his ability…and therefore Tar Nev’s. “But if I do, I would like you to do something for me as well.”

Monde smiled for the first time, then laughed and touched Jess na Gall’s hand which was resting on the table. “You are right about him,” was all she said and made no attempt to explain the statement to Gwaynn.

“What is it you wish?” the High Zarina asked.

“I would like you to take me to Noble Island.”

Monde blinked in surprise and gave another nervous laugh.

“I think we need a few more allies on our side,” Gwaynn explained, “and I think it’s past time.”

This time na Gall laughed, and Gwaynn turned his eyes on her. “I would like you to go to Parma. I need the Cassinni as well.”

Jess’ mouth popped open for a moment then she snapped it shut and looked to her High Zarina. “I warned you…I told you,” she insisted.

Monde chuckled softly. “Come Gwaynn. We will trust you with the strategy. Please show me how you Travel.”

Gwaynn smiled and stood up, but as he did so his mind accelerated and his concentration focused on slowing time. In the moment it took for him to fully rise up and stand before the two Travelers, time was already beginning to shift. The women’s movements were becoming sluggish, seconds later all was quiet and still. Gwaynn took a moment to admire Jess na Gall in the firelight. She was truly a beautiful woman, made even more so by the soft light. He smiled and then went to work. He raised his hand and began the twenty-nine steps to create a bridge, but this time, only to the other side of the room. When all was ready he released time, popped open the bridge and moved through.

The two women gasped loudly in astonishment, Gwaynn could hear their shocked breathing clearly though he was now on the far side of the room. He began to walk back toward them, ignoring the pangs of hunger rumbling in his mid-section and was acutely aware of the wild look of wonder in their eyes. To the two Travelers, the entire process was instantaneous. One moment Gwaynn stood before them and then he was across the room. The bridge appeared the split second after he stood; there was no delay and no twenty-nine steps. He was with them and then he was through the bridge and gone.

“You never said…”

“I never knew,” Jess insisted.

“She never knew,” Gwaynn repeated and sat back down at the table. Monde looked at him, still breathing rapidly.

“And yes, Tar Nev can Travel,” he admitted softly, finally tired of evading her questions. Nev would just have to forgive him.

“I’m hungry,” Gwaynn added and looked about for food.

ǂ

“We cannot give them time to build greater strength!” Arden, the newly crowned King of the Deutzani said. “We have to attack…soon.”

High King Mastoc smiled slightly and glanced at Low Hothgaard, Captain of the Temple Knights. “So attack,” Mastoc said simply.

Arden glared at the High King for a moment, but kept his cool and sat down.

“I was not jesting,” the High King added after a moment. “Take back Solarii and then move down the finger of Massi and threaten Lynndon.”

Arden frowned and looked to Ja Brude, whose face remained infuriatingly blank.

“We do not have the men,” Arden finally said, looking away from his chief advisor. Perhaps it was time to replace the man. Brude had a tendency to disappear when truly tough decisions had to be made.

Mastoc shrugged. Hothgaard and King Weldon of the Palmerrio smiled at Arden’s discomfort, only King Donnish Rhondono showed the slightest sympathy for the young Deutzani King’s position. “You will attack Lynndon in two weeks time,” the High King commanded. “If you do not have the strength to take the town, you obviously do not have the strength to rule the Massi.”

Arden was about to speak when Ja Brude reached out and placed a hand on his forearm. “To what end do we attack?” he asked and nodded for his young King to be seated. After a moment Arden complied and looked to Mastoc for an answer.

“We’ll attempt to draw Prince Gwaynn out of Manse,” Mastoc said. “My spies tell me the Scar city will not be easy to take. We’ll need to outthink the Massi, force them out onto the plains, or better yet face them on the flats of the Plateau.”

“And if he comes for me,” Arden asked boldly. “Where will you be?”

Ja Brude held his breath at such recklessness. Arsinol was never so, not even when he was young. The High King however, laughed and moved to a large map showing all the lands of the Inland Sea. The map dominated the western wall of the great hall and everyone in the room stood and moved with the King to study it closer.

“I will be here,” the King said and pointed to the King’s Island. He laughed again, nothing it seemed could touch his good mood now that the majority of the Toranado fleet was at the bottom of the sea, “but Captain Hothgaard and my Temple Knights will be on troopships…here,” Mastoc explained, “ready to land on the plains northeast of Cape and move against the Massi rear if they are foolish enough to move against Lynndon.”

“We must not underestimate the Toranado navy at Cape,” Admiral Blakely of the Palmerrio cautioned while studying the map. He did not relish the thought of trying to get nearly a hundred troop ships passed the enemy triremes. Diminished or not, surprised or not, the Toranado navy was yet a threat. For centuries the Toranado were the finest, most well trained sailors on the Inland Sea and such a distinction did not disappear with one defeat.

Mastoc turned to the Admiral annoyed. “You have two weeks to deal with them.”

The Admiral frowned slightly. “They’ll not be surprised again.”

The High King suddenly turned an angry red. “You captured three dozen Toranado Triremes and sent double that to the bottom of their harbor. They are beaten. You will finish them quickly before they have time to regroup and cause us trouble.”

Blakely nodded, thinking perhaps he was being superstitious. The planning for the Battle of Eno had been his after all, and the victory though not decisive, was somewhat unexpected. The Toranado had not lost a sea battle in nearly two hundred years. And though the combined navies of the Palmerrio, the Rhondono and the High King lost more ships than they captured or sunk, they still came out of the battle in a much better position than the Toranado.

“You must not underestimate the Massi Prince or his army,” Ja Brude suddenly interjected.

All eyes turned to him, but for a moment the room was quiet.

“The Deutzani army he destroyed was seasoned and outnumbered the Massi by more than two to one,” Brude continued.

The High King smiled and nodded at the Deutzani advisor. “We will not allow the Massi brat to become comfortable in his hole at Manse. We’ll draw him out, even if the feint on Lynndon does not do the trick. Weldon will attack the Gap with several thousand men, but move the bulk of his force up to the Aleria Pass. He will threaten the Plateau from the south. With the Deutzani threatening Lynndon to the east, and the Palmerrio the Plateau from the south, Gwaynn will be forced to make a choice. If he goes for Lynndon, the Knights will be waiting on the plains to pounce, and if he chooses the Aleria Pass, I’ve full confidence in the Palmerrio to crush him on the open flats of the Massi Plateau. And while the Massi are engaged on the Plateau, the Knights will move against Manse and eliminate their sanctuary. Prince Gwaynn will not be able to just sit and hide in his new fortress city; if he does we will hit him from three sides. The young prince is trapped already, though he does not yet know it. Whatever decision he makes it will be the wrong one, and lead to the destruction of the Massi people.”

Arden smiled, as did Ja Brude. It was a thoughtful plan, designed to put pressure on the Massi from all sides, unlike the lumbering attack of Arsinol’s method of warfare. It could work. Ja’s disquiet eased some, but he still remembered the tenacity of the Massi fighters. Even in victory he felt sure the High King and his allies would pay dearly for the land of Massi.

III

The Executioner Lacombe left the home of Paulo Carnetti eager to be on his way. In his breast pocket he had a letter of recommendation signed by Paulo himself. It only took two days to convince the man of his Massi heritage and his good name.

‘Fools,’ Lacombe thought, but he could not truly blame them. The Massi army would need every strong-armed young man on their side if they were to face the Temple Knights, even then most would be slaughtered. Lacombe felt no sorrow or disappointment at the thought of so many Massi dead. He’d never been loyal to this country or its people, still for some odd reason he hoped the young ‘Prince’ gave the High King a challenge. If the Temple Knights were severely weakened it would put the Executioners of Sinis in a much greater position of power. After the naval engagement at Eno, the High King should realize what a powerful force the Executioners could be in battle, on land or at sea. The Tars of Sinis were a huge asset to the Palmerrio and Rhondono fleets. It would be good for Sinis if the High King grew ever more reliant on the special skills of the Executioners.

Paulo tried to persuade Lacombe to wait a bit longer before moving on to Manse. For some reason the merchant wanted to send large groups of men to the new city all at once, rather than have them trickle in one at a time. The merchant claimed to have nearly a dozen men waiting and the number should climb to about twenty if a few days time, but Lacombe would not be delayed and begged out, eager to get to Manse and kill the traitor. de Baard was giving Executioners a bad name and that was something he could not abide, after all it would only be a few short years before he was the High Tar of Sinis Island. He would challenge Nacht soon…perhaps when he was finished with this beautiful turncoat.

Though it was still hours before midday, Lacombe was already twenty miles down the finger of Massi and traveling at an easy but steady pace. He was happy with his choice of Sunwind, she might not be much to look at, but she was strong and had great stamina. If the weather held, he was positive he could make Manse in perhaps three more days, four at the most and five if he ran into trouble and was forced to kill someone slowly. Lacombe smiled at the thought, killing was always such a pleasant diversion.

‘Yes,’ he thought as Sunwind followed along the road on her own accord, ‘once de Baard is dead at my feet, I’ll have free reign over the country. Maybe I’ll take some time and see a bit of the countryside. Let King Mastoc have his war, I’ll enjoy the rest of the Massi country folk…country lasses. Yes, there were always plenty of lonely, unprotected women in times of war.’

Lacombe laughed aloud, startling Sunwind who jumped forward, causing the Executioner to struggle to retain his seat. His temper flared and Lacombe spurred the mare to greater speed and then forced her to hold to it as punishment.

‘Three days,’ he thought to himself.

ǂ

“How long will you be gone?” Samantha asked sleepily, unconsciously rubbing her stomach as she watched Gwaynn dress. The bulge of pregnancy was just becoming noticeable, but so far only to herself and Gwaynn. She vowed it wouldn’t stop her from fighting and continued to work with Captain Hahn and Olney Hawser training both new archers and the seasoned veterans. They all split the training time between archery practice and working with developing new spear formations. Currently everyone was excited about a large formation Olney had come up with which contained more than three hundred men.  It was a simple diamond formation and around the perimeter were a full two hundred and fifty men presenting a line of bristling spear points. Some of the men were kneeling and some standing in order to present a solid wall of sharp metal. Inside the formation were another fifty men, all archers, and they would attack any threat with arrow fire. Olney’s plan called for a great number of multiple formations placed at wide intervals and separated by open ground. In practice they found that the separate formations gave the men a surprisingly large amount of protection against cavalry.

The design was very radical and went against all military tactics of the day. Conventional wisdom held that infantry should mass in a solid line, forming a shield wall against attacking cavalry. But Olney Hawser knew horses, and realized that most animals, even those trained in battle, would not charge into a formation of spear points no matter how hard their deranged riders tried to coax them. This was especially true when the horses had a clear avenue around the obstacle. Olney believed the horses would instinctively veer around the immediate danger and become targets for the bowmen within. So far in practice, his ideas were being proven correct.

Of course the formation would be less effective against a charge of heavy infantry and might completely fall apart if faced with another strong force of archers…but they were working on that little problem. Olney was turning into quite a tactician and he was an excellent bowman, but Samantha was afraid she would soon lose him to the cavalry. He was becoming fascinated with the art of mounted warfare and hung about Jeffery Gaston during most of his spare time, which was precious little for any of them.

Gwaynn glanced at Samantha as she rubbed on her midsection, and smiled. He did not want to leave her…did not want her here in the midst of war, but she refused to leave and as yet her pregnancy did little to hamper her ability to lead and train men.

“No more than a week,” Gwaynn answered. He’d wanted to take her with him, to show her off to Tar Nev and perhaps Kostek, maybe even cajole her into staying on Noble for safety, but she refused, knowing that her time with her archers was running out.

“Zarina Monde believes she’ll be strong enough to return in only a day, but I doubt Nev will be that easy to convince.”

“You really think you can convince him?” She asked and moved to Gwaynn. She put her arms around his neck while he reached down and took over the duty of stroking her growing belly.

“He’s growing bigger,” Gwaynn said as Samantha moved away to put on her own clothes. Gwaynn stood attentive as she did so.

“She,” Samantha insisted.

“Nev likes his solitude, but he did tell me to call if ever I needed his help,” Gwaynn added, returning to the subject at hand. He chaffed at the thought of leaving Samantha, and worried about his growing cowardice. Over the past month his fear was growing steadily and there were times, in the darkest hours of the night that he would come awake with a jolt, his heart pounding to the rhythm of some unremembered terror. It mattered little to him that his fear was for someone other than himself. It was still cowardice; still weakness, and it worried him. He could feel it growing inside like a poison, mirroring the bulge in Samantha’s midsection. The very thought of the newborn baby terrified him in many different ways.

“I’ll be fine,” Samantha whispered coming closer and nuzzling his neck. “You go get some Tars to fight on our side and then we will have no worries at all.”

“I wish,” Gwaynn said rolling his eyes. He gently pulled away from her but still kept hold of her hand. He led her from the room and out into the main hall of their new home.  It was quiet, empty and still in the hall itself, but sounds of construction filled their private rooms as men erected platforms along the interior of the main wall of the fortress.

They stepped out into the day. It was bright and sunny, though it had rained sometime over night and the ground was wet and muddy in spots. All the men working looked up and nodded. They were a popular couple and the warriors of Massi were becoming fiercely loyal to them both. A few workmen shouted out greetings, some of them smiling and briefly forgetting for a moment that they were working on the very walls designed to hold out an army, an enemy army that was moving inexorably closer.

As they zigzagged their way around the muddy spots, Gwaynn could feel the pressure of the approaching army; feel the pressure of the High King.

‘He means to kill me and kill Samantha and kill the baby growing inside her,’ he thought and another wave of concern and cowardice flowed over him. The thought of running, hiding in the hills and leaving all the danger and warfare behind, flitted briefly through his brain but then he grew angry.

Samantha’s hand returned the squeeze he hadn’t realized he was giving and Gwaynn glanced at her. She was watching him as they moved together through the main gates and into the square that separated the two motte and baileys. Krys, Emm, Cyndar and Lee Brandt were waiting with the Zarina Monde. Along one side of the Traveler stood Queen Ramona, who was currently residing in the sister fortress, her son had already returned to the Gap to guard against the imminent attack they all felt was coming.

Waiting on the opposite side of Monde was the Weapons Master Tabernas, who would be joining Phillip at the Gap shortly, and the Speaker Zebo Sorbello. Traveler Jess na Gall departed two days ago on horseback, bound for Heron. From there she would Travel to Parma, the large port city and Capital of the Cassinni. Lonogan Bock and five other handpicked men went along with her as escort, just in case King Marc Cassinni attempted to make any claim on the Traveler’s freedom. na Gall believed such “protection” was not necessary but Gwaynn insisted, and Bock seemed more than eager to get away from Manse for a while and accompany the beautiful Traveler to an exotic and distant land for a few days. It was Gwaynn’s hope that King Marc would judge all of Massi against Lonogan and thus feel more confident in supporting their cause.

“Anything from our High King?” Gwaynn asked Lee Brandt, who would be assuming Bock’s duties in his boss’s absence. Gwaynn had offered to elevate Brandt to Captain, but the big man just shrugged. He cared nothing for titles and had little trouble motivating those who worked under him. Gwaynn nodded slightly to Cyndar, who appeared nervous and was standing slightly behind the big man, as if for protection. Gwaynn wondered briefly at her behavior, but did not guess she was using Brandt’s large body to shield herself from the eyes of Zarina Monde. The two of them had met briefly over a year ago and in fact there was a scar on the Zarina’s right shoulder given to her by Cyn de Baard. How she had not recognized her immediately, Cyndar could not have said, but she knew it might be only a matter of time before Monde made the connection.

‘Samantha and Gwaynn would have to die soon,’ Cyndar thought, ‘the bitch immediately, while her beloved prince was away.’ It was a happy thought and Cyndar had to suppress a smile.

Brandt shook his head at Gwaynn’s inquiry, but it was Ramona who answered.

“My son reports no activity along the Gap and as of an hour ago Captain Wicks claims the waters around Cape to be free of enemy vessels,” the Queen said wanting to do more than just report on the front. She knew her people were doing their share to prepare for the upcoming battle, but she felt useless and impotent in the face of approaching battle. What advice could she give when it was her decisions that led to the loss of her own country? Her confidence was shaken, but she was still Queen and so must carry on with pretense.

“I will be here to await word if anything menacing develops,” she added bitterly but smiled faintly as Tabernas put a hand gently on her shoulder.

Gwaynn nodded, catching the older woman’s mood. “We’ll be able to return immediately if it comes to that,” he said then stepped forward and embraced the Toranado Queen.

“You have given us valuable time,” he whispered into her ear. “No one could have stood against such a force. My father couldn’t and I no longer blame him.”

“But you did,” Ramona whispered back and hugged the young man fiercely.

“I was the fool, not my father,” Gwaynn replied and pulled away but gave an extra squeeze with his hands before completely disengaging and turning to Krys and Samantha.

“We’ll stay in close contact,” he said in a louder voice. “This may take a week or a day. There is no way to tell.”

Gwaynn glanced at Krys, suddenly nervous. “Contact me if anything unexpected arises,” he told his Weapons Master.

Krys nodded and smiled. “Emm and I will keep things under control,” he replied and squeezed the hand of the woman he loved. “We won’t be surprised.”

Gwaynn nodded, completely confident in his young friend. War had aged and matured them both.

And with that the High Zarina Monde began working on the bridge to Noble as Gwaynn hugged and kissed Samantha goodbye, neither feeling even a trace of embarrassment over their display of affection. Within moments the bridge was solid and with a last look at Samantha, Gwaynn stepped through and was quickly followed by Monde.

Samantha never took her eyes him as he moved from Massi to Noble, but when the bubble suddenly popped out of sight she found herself staring into the hard eyes of Cyndar Huntley. The Captain held her gaze for a long moment before lifting her chin and sauntering off toward the practice fields.

ǂ

The High King stood at the edge of the rampart and watched as the tail end of the fleet glided swiftly over the horizon. The morning was very windy and unseasonably cool. But the sky was generally clear with just a few large, white clouds that streaked across the blue as if racing his ships to the distance shores of Massi.

Mastoc frowned with nervousness, uncomfortable with the fact that his Temple Knights were now all aboard ship, ships that would soon be moving through enemy waters guarded by what was left of the Toranado fleet. He was no fool and realized all too well that his rule depended greatly on the dominance of the Knights; without them he would be at the mercy of his enemies. He just hoped Admiral Blakely of the Palmerrio knew what he was doing. The Toranado navy…they were still a concern, and would be until their ships were utterly destroyed.

‘Damn the Cassinni anyway,’ he thought spitefully.

“Arden will keep the Toranado at bay if necessary,” Audra said bouncing the growing baby boy in her arms. “He’s placed Admiral Braunwain and the Deutzani fleet at the very tip of the finger.”

The baby, Aiden, yammered something unintelligible and reached up and tried his best to pluck his mother’s left eye from its socket. She leaned back, smiling and the youth became distracted by her hair, which was well within reach.

The High King looked down at his heir and couldn’t help but smile at the baby’s antics. Then he glanced into his wife’s face, who at sixteen was little more than a child herself. He felt a wave of love and confidence. They would get passed this threat, and when they did he promised himself to put away intrigue for the time being and enjoy his family, which was growing quickly. Audra was already large with child again though young Aiden was not yet eight months old.

“The Cassinni will have to be made to pay for their lack of cooperation,” he finally said as if ignoring his own thoughts.

“But not yet,” Audra said simply, and leaned down to kiss the wiggling fingers of her baby.

“No not yet,” the High King agreed, suddenly happy to be here, happy to be with his wife and son. “And we will not have to move against them by sea,” he added and raised his face wistfully to gaze back out toward the fleet, but the last of the ships were gone, driven away by the strong morning wind.

ǂ

Tar Ira Lacombe was still nearly fifteen miles from the city of Manse when he came across the first Massi patrol. There were nearly twenty horsemen and they were all riding swiftly in his direction by the time he spotted them in the distance. It unnerved him a little that they were apparently aware of his presence before he was aware of theirs, but then they were soldiers on patrol, searching for any sign of the enemy they all knew was coming.

Lacombe turned Sunwind and rode directly toward the approaching riders. They were on him quickly, some riding in close while the rest flanked out and surrounded him at a relatively safe distance. To the Tar, they all looked to be hard, well-trained men, which served as a healthy reminder for caution.

“Your name please,” a young soldier barked loudly pulling his horse to a stop only a half dozen feet from Lacombe.

“Ira Banks,” the Executioner lied. “I have papers of recommendation from Paulo Carnetti,” he added and reached into his breast pocket to remove them. Immediately a dozen lances were lowered and aimed directly at his chest. Lacombe stopped moving, his hand frozen in place.

The soldier before him smiled and then nodded. “Slowly,” he said simply.

Lacombe did as he was told, for though he was confident he could take any two of the soldiers before him, he knew he would die quickly against all twenty and their long, deadly weapons. He slowly pulled the papers from his pocket, eased forward and handed them to the soldier who was in charge of the patrol. Lacombe studied the man as he read and quickly decided that if the Massi had many such men on patrol the High King would be very hard pressed to surprise them.

“Why alone?” the young soldier asked when he finished reading the recommendation. “Paulo usually sends out small parties of new men together.”

Lacombe shrugged. “Impatient to kill Temple Knights I guess,” he answered and several men around him smiled in response. The young soldier just grunted, and his demeanor once again impressed the Executioner.

‘Yes, the High King may be in for a nasty surprise,’ he thought but kept his face carefully neutral as the soldier took to inspecting his mount. From his expression it was clear that the animal did not impress him.

“Horseman?”

Lacombe shrugged. “I ride well enough but I fight better on the ground.”

The soldier nodded and ran his eyes once more over Sunwind, still evaluating. Finally he handed the papers back to Lacombe.

“My name’s Gaston. Captain Jeffery Gaston. Ride straight along this road and do not deviate. You will pass through several more check points, just show your papers and tell them you’ve talked to me. When you arrive in Manse check in with a Lee Brandt.”

Lacombe nodded and was about to speak his thanks but Captain Gaston had already wheeled his mount and signaled his men to move away and continue on their patrol.

Lacombe was pleased and concerned at the same time. It would be well if the Temple Knights were severely weakened, but a well-trained, disciplined army would also present some challenges during his eventual escape following the death of the traitor. In the end he just sighed and spurred Sunwind into a fast trot, suddenly anxious to arrive in Manse and get a lay of the land. He just hoped the young Tarina would not recognize him before he was ready to make his move.

ǂ

They appeared outside the main walls of the city amidst the dirt and squalor of the Parma poor, much to na Gall’s dismay. To Travel from Massi to Cassinni was not an easy task even from the very tip of the finger. The distance to cover was great, almost as far as the trip from Koshka to Light, and so her accuracy suffered. na Gall followed the men through the bridge and would have collapsed in the mud if not for Bock, who stepped forward to support her.

“Eh now!” a loud voice shouted to their left and in a flash Lonogan’s right kali was out and though he was still hampered by the weakened Traveler, he spun about to see who was challenging them. na Gall glanced weakly around and noticed that all five of her bodyguards were now armed and ready to protect her. She smiled inwardly. Gwaynn’s training was beginning to show dramatic results.

The mud rat that yelled quickly realized the danger and disappeared down an alley without uttering another sound.

“I need food and rest,” na Gall said just above a whisper.

“Your home is near?” Lonogan asked, glancing about, his expression slightly alarmed. They were currently in an area which appeared to be best avoided by any but a well trained army.

na Gall laughed lightly. “No, I’ve missed my mark. Let’s head northeast.”

Bock nodded. “Let’s move quickly. I’m not a fan of the smell.”

They made their way rapidly through the muddy streets, keeping a watchful eye on the many locals who curiously peered in their direction. But they needn’t have worried. Though they’d arrived in a very unsavory quarter of Parma, the Massi soldier’s demeanor as well as their weapons signaled to any bent on robbery that it might be best to avoid the group and look elsewhere. Despite na Gall’s weakness they moved along quickly and within a quarter of an hour they were beyond the worst of the ragged poor. They came upon the main road that led from the lower wharves to the heart of the city, and na Gall, who continued to lean heavily on Lonogan as they walked, pointed to the north. They weaved their way through a warehouse district and into the center of Parma where Lonogan managed to hire a carriage. Twenty minutes later they came to a large, solid looking house that was surrounded by a high brick wall and protected by a thick iron gate. The latch was locked but a man appeared on the porch before Bock could become too impatient.

“Elbert,” na Gall said quietly then sagged against Lonogan, who effortlessly hoisted her into his arms and watched as the old man slowly approached the gate.

“Hurry man!” he yelled and the old man paused. “Get a move on Elbert,” Bock added, “Jess needs rest and food.”

At the sound of his name, the man moved forward once more and stopped just out of reach on the far side of the gate. He eyed Lonogan and the rest of the men, soldiers obviously, but then his gaze moved to na Gall.

“Jessie? Little Jessie,” he said suddenly concerned and quickly moved forward and opened the way.

“Come, come,” he said and noticed the worry on Lonogan’s face.

Bock carried the Traveler up the wide stairway in front of the house and onto the large open-air porch before angling her body and entering the house. There, a tall woman with a narrow but handsome face, watched his progress nervously.

“Set up a perimeter,” Lonogan ordered his men and then turned to face the woman who stood waiting. “She needs food,” he told the woman, but she just smiled and nodded.

“Bring her in here and place her on the settee,” she instructed. Bock did as he was told and placed na Gall gently down. Despite her height, Lonogan was surprised to find that the Traveler seemed very light, and it was hardly an effort to carry her. He even felt a twinge of regret as he pulled away from the warmth of her body.

na Gall, who was awake and still alert, smiled widely up at him.

“Mama,” she said softly. “This is Lonogan Bock…General Bock of the Massi.”

Bock straightened up, surprised and half turned to the older woman. He bowed slightly. “Ma’am.”

“Miranda. I’m…” she began but stopped as a servant brought in a large drink filled with a thin pale liquid.

na Gall drank without hesitation and when it was gone she handed the glass back to her mother.

“Apple juice,” she said to Bock and then smiled. “Any peach juice mother?”

Her mother smiled at her before looking quizzically toward the maid, who shrugged and left the room once more. Another servant, a tall, painfully thin man, brought in a tray of bread and cheeses. He set it before the Traveler and na Gall immediately began to eat without comment.

“Welcome home Jessie,” Miranda na Gall said and patted her daughter softly on the shoulder.

“Miranda…” Bock said mostly to himself. “Miranda na Gall…the cellist?” Miranda nodded and Jess beamed. Lonogan looked down at Jess as the Traveler stuffed food into her mouth at an alarming rate.

“Your mother is Miranda na Gall, the cellist?”

Jess nodded, but did not answer because her mouth was full of bread, so Lonogan turned back to Miranda.

“I had the pleasure of hearing you perform in Solarii…four years ago now I guess it was. You were wonderful,” he added and then his eyes went wide and he turned back to Jess. “Your father is General Clark na Gall?”

“Retired,” Miranda corrected, frowning at her daughter who continued only to nod and eat. “Although you would never know it by the amount he travels these days. He’s in the west, reviewing the Palmerrio borders with General Keadle. Our neutrality in the conflict is creating a lot of tension with our neighbors.”

“Mother,” Jess began and swallowed the bite of cheese she still had in her mouth. “Where’s Owen?”

Miranda shrugged. “He’s around,” she answered then turned to Lonogan. “Her brother. I apologize. I believed I raised her to have better manners.”

Bock smiled and Jess huffed. “Mother!” she spouted, but then went back to her eating.

“Slow down child,” Miranda said but lowered herself gently and sat by her daughter’s side.

Jess continued to eat rapidly, her every instinct telling her that her body needed nourishment…and fast. She only paused to deliver one-word answers to a comment or question and looked up relieved when Katty, the maid, returned with large glass of a thick yellow juice.

“Peach?” Jess asked between bites and Katty nodded. The Traveler took it and quickly guzzled the full contents.

“I have more,” Katty, who was young, maybe a few years younger than Jess, said with a laugh. “I’d not wanna be around when all of this decides to exit your other end.”

“Katty!” Miranda shouted but Katty just raised her eyebrows and smiled then turned and departed quickly. Jess laughed and Bock tried to stifle a grin in an attempt to spare the feelings of the elder na Gall as she turned pink in the cheeks.

“I apologize again…what you must think of us,” she muttered.

“Oh mother,” Jess stated, “we’re at war. We’ve been living in the dirt and mud with danger and death all around, a little joke is hardly going to offend either of us.”

“War…” Miranda said very solemnly. “We somehow managed to get your father through his entire career without a major conflict…but now you…” her voice trailed off, and then her brows creased.

“Jessie why are you here?”

“Mother,” Jess began but stopped as another glass of peach juice arrived, this time by Lamont, the thin man, and Bock surmised that Katty must have decided to make herself scarce.

“And you’ve brought a General,” Miranda added, glancing up at Bock.

“Mother we’ve come to talk to King Marc…” Jess began again.

“He won’t see you,” her mother interrupted.

“I think he will,” Lonogan disagreed. “There are only two Travelers left alive,” he continued, purposefully neglecting to mention either Gwaynn or Laynee. That makes your daughter a very important person.”

Miranda sat very still, breathing heavily. “Well, she’s always been an important person, but Marc is very…well he’s timid. He’ll not hold an audience with you if he suspects it will send the wrong message to the High King…he’s very loyal to Mastoc.”

“Not loyal enough to fight at his side,” Jess interjected.

Miranda shrugged. “As I said, he’s very timid.”

“Perhaps your father…” Lonogan began before Miranda rounded on him, standing quickly to face him on equal terms.

“You will not involve Clark!” she demanded hotly, just short of yelling.

“Mother!” Jess shouted back but then the front door crashed open. Bock spun and drew his kali instinctively. The move was very smooth and very fast. Gwaynn was teaching his General well.

The intruder was a young man of about twenty who gazed at the crouching sword bearing man before him with wide eyes.

“Owen,” Jess said quickly as one of Bock’s men followed the young man inside, “my brother.”

Bock immediately straightened up, and signaled to the man at the door that all was well. The soldier retreated as Bock smoothly replaced his kali.

“Sorry about that Owen,” Lonogan said as the young man cautiously navigated around him. Once passed Bock he broke into a smile and fell upon his sister. They hugged, kissed and tickled just a little before Owen stood and faced Bock once more.

“Owen, this is Lonogan Bock, the Massi General,” Jess said from the couch.

“Excellent!” Owen answered and stuck out his hand.

They shook hands heartily and Jess took a moment to study Lonogan closely. Not surprisingly she found that she completely agreed with her brother’s assessment.

ǂ

Zarina Monde was good, very good. They appeared in the clearing just below the cabin and there, sitting on the porch sipping tea was Tar Nev, smiling down at them. Gwaynn smiled back and waved as they made their way up the hill, but the High Zarina did not share his enthusiasm.

“He’s a bit creepy,” she whispered, “sitting there like he’s waiting for us.”

“He probably is,” Gwaynn whispered back.

“I’ve been expecting you,” Nev said to Gwaynn as they came within speaking distance, then Nev glanced at Monde. “I’ve food ready in the cabin,” he told her and with a slight bow led them both inside.

The table was already set…for three. It held the usual; meat, cheese, fruit, but also on the table was a large bowl of sugar cubes and in the middle a pitcher of liquid that, after a quick inspection, Gwaynn realized was peach juice. He smiled at Nev as Monde again whispered under her breath.

“Creepy.”

“I see your war preparations are going well,” Nev said and they all sat down. The High Zarina did not wait to be invited but immediately began to fill her plate and eat, taking more than her share of sugar cubes.

“Try the juice,” Gwaynn told her and she did without a word. “The High King is coming,” he said to Nev, while picking at the food, eating very little. “There’s no way we can stop him now.”

Nev nodded. “Yes, I heard about the Toranado fleet. Without the help of the Cassinni I don’t think you’ll be able to keep out an invasion by sea. Massi has far too much shoreline to cover.”

Monde raised her eyebrows. “You know about our trip to the Cassinni.”

Nev shook his head negatively. “No, but it is what I would do. Any answer?”

“Not yet,” Gwaynn answered. “But we need all the allies we can get,” he added and it took him a moment to realize that the High Zarina was no longer moving, and the air had become silent.

Nev smiled. “Come,” he said and reached into the bowl for a large handful of sugar cubes. He led Gwaynn outside and away from the frozen Traveler. They moved around to the side of the cabin and without a word Nev bent down and picked up two logs from the stack placed against the cabin wall. Gwaynn followed suit, searching briefly for the two smallest logs he could find.

Nev chuckled. “You’re growing fast,” he said and then fell silent as they both began to climb Mount Erato. Thirty minutes later they were at the cave. Nev dropped his logs just inside and Gwaynn did likewise, then they moved out and sat down on the ledge overlooking the island and the Inland Sea.

Once sitting, Gwaynn gazed out over the island he’d grown to love and realized that for the rest of the world time was still moving very, very slowly. It was eerily quiet and the wind was utterly still. In the distance Gwaynn could make out the white tops of waves, but there was no movement and flow to the water; it was as if someone had placed a giant still painting in front of the true world.

They sat for a moment looking out at the spectacular view and Gwaynn was surprised how much he missed this place.

“I’ll not help you with the High King,” Tar Nev said before Gwaynn even put forth the proposal. “That’s something you will have to do on your own, but have courage. I believe you’re up to it.”

Gwaynn jerked around and looked at his former Master, anger flashing across his face. “You’ll not help?” he asked, suddenly incredulous.

Tar Nev shook his head. “I’m not much longer in this world, and if I was to help it would just make matters worse.”

Gwaynn frowned, shocked then studied his old Master carefully. The Tar did not appear ill; in fact he seemed in a fine state of health. “Not much longer in…” Gwaynn began but stopped as Nev chuckled again.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he answered. “I’ll be leaving, but not in the usual sense. I’ve had enough. I’m moving on to where I can truly be a Solitary.”

Gwaynn shook his head, confused. “But where will you go?”

Again Nev chuckled. “Earth of course, just not this one.”

Gwaynn’s eyes flew wide. “You can travel between worlds like…like Galen Dawkins?”

Nev shrugged and it was his turn to frown. He sat silent for a moment, pondering the question. “I’ve not done it before, but I believe I can. In any case I’m going to try…soon.”

Gwaynn looked out over the island and said nothing for a very long time as he considered this new possibility. The idea definitely had a certain air of attraction. “Where…which one will you…?”

Nev laughed. “I’m not sure and will be surprised if I have much control over the choice. I’ll go to the first attractive place which presents itself…somewhere with no people…or very few, would be ideal…just somewhere else. Of course it may not happen as I’d like the first time, but if not; I’ll keep at it until I’m satisfied with the result.”

“But then…Galen says if you leave there is no coming back.”

“That’s what’s said, though he also teaches that there are an infinite amount of worlds nearly identical to this very one. Who knows, I may get lonely.”

They again sat in silence for a time, before Tar Nev patted Gwaynn on the shoulder. “Come I’m getting tired and hungry. Not even I can slow time indefinitely.”

Gwaynn stood. “The High King?”

Nev shrugged. “This is your world now. You must do what you think is necessary,” the Tar answered then smiled. “But just because I have failed you, doesn’t mean you will not find allies on Noble Island. While you’re here you should pay a visit to Herra.”

They moved down the mountain quickly, Gwaynn watching his old master closely as time continued to crawl along. Nev showed no real sign of weakening, but Gwaynn noticed that beads of sweat were beginning to form on the back of his neck. When they stepped back into the cabin, Nev staggered a little but then made his way to the table and sat down. Gwaynn noticed his hands were shaking slightly and once they were both in position time instantly began to flow around them once more.

Tar Nev immediately began to eat ravenously as Gwaynn poured him a big glass of juice. Tarina Monde frowned still eating heartily herself, and gave Gwaynn a questioning look.

Gwaynn shrugged. “After we eat we’ll be moving down to Herra.” He told her. Monde was old enough and wise enough not to say anything more.

IV

The Executioner Ira Lacombe passed through the final checkpoint into Manse thoroughly impressed by the preparations the Massi people were making to face down the Temple Knights. He smiled.

‘Good King Mastoc is in for a very rude surprise,’ Lacombe thought with immense satisfaction. He waited patiently as the fourth sergeant of the day reviewed his recommendation from Paolo Carnetti. He’d managed to cross a bridge over the Scar River and climb to the Plateau before coming to another checkpoint between two newly constructed fortresses. The design of the two baileys was simple but would be very effective, especially when taken together and at the very rim of the Scar.

The man before him was of average height but with large broad shoulders, thick forearms and massive hands. He studied Lacombe’s papers thoroughly before looking up directly into the Executioner’s eyes.

“Horseman?” he asked, and again the Executioner shook his head. The Massi were apparently desperate for men skilled on a horse, and there was little doubt as to why.

The Sergeant shrugged. “Leave your horse with the stable master. He’ll give you a certificate of ownership but the beast will be utilized how Captain Tanner sees fit.”

Lacombe nodded, expecting such a move; still it did nothing to alter his growing stress level. He realized that after he killed de Baard escaping Manse would be far from easy. And he had to act quickly, before the High King arrived. Once the battle ensued, escape across the plains would be nigh impossible.

“I was told to ask for Lee Brandt,” Lacombe said outwardly calm, and the Sergeant nodded.

“He’s farther up on the Plateau to the east observing the battalion drills,” the Sergeant informed him then waved at a young man who quickly ran over.

“Markow, take…Mr. Banks over to the stables then out to Captain Brandt.” The young man nodded and smiled at the Executioner, who returned it. They immediately started off and moments later Lacombe was short one horse with only a small chit of paper to show for his trouble. He was still shaking his head as Markow led him around the last of the new buildings and out onto the normally empty expanse of the Plateau.

Lacombe’s mouth fell open, because instead of being empty, the surrounding Plateau now contained what appeared to be an entire army in training. Lacombe stopped walking and just stared for several long minutes. To the west were vast groups of archers, some practicing their marksmanship, while others moved about with long halberds, rapidly shifting through a variety of formations. Farther out on the Plateau the Executioner caught sight of large masses of cavalry also working on formations, largely against other cavalry, and then to the east was a great mass of infantry, some heavy, some light, all working through a host of drills.

“We’ll be ready,” Markow said with obvious confidence and pride.

And for the first time Lacombe did not doubt it and even wondered who would fill the vacuum of power if the Temple Knights were destroyed. Sinis Island could very well come to rule the whole of the Inland Sea in his lifetime. It was a heady thought and not one Lacombe would have entertained even a few moments prior to his arrival on the Plateau.

“There’s Brandt,” Markow said and led the Executioner toward the largest man Lacombe had ever seen. He had his back to them, watching over a group of heavy infantry working with long pikes, but turned as they approached.

“New man, Banks,” Markow said nervously, clearly intimidated by the large Captain. He left almost immediately while Brandt eyed the new man closely.

“You good with those?” He asked, indicating the kali at the Executioner’s waist.

Lacombe nodded.

“You have a first name?”

“Ira.”

“Well Ira,” Brandt said and pointed east and a little north, back toward the Scar. “I’ll have you join Logan’s group, Weapons Master Logan. He’ll evaluate your skill and decide what unit you’ll be assigned to in the end. He’s working over there.”

Brandt moved along with Lacombe. “You know what you’re getting into here?” The large Captain asked.

Lacombe nodded. “But of course,” he answered, but then stopped walking and talking at the very same moment. Brandt moved past him a bit before realizing the new man was no longer at his side. Instead Lacombe was standing and watching a woman in the distance as she spun and attacked then spun and retreated, deftly fending off three opponents as a half a dozen soldiers watched.

‘Tarina de Baard,’ Lacombe thought to himself. She was good and as he watched her spinning gracefully about he realized just how good. She was very, very good. Her death would not be easy, but it must be soon. Lacombe did not want to stay among the Massi any longer than necessary. He had a strong suspicion that it would be very unhealthy to do so.

“You just keep those thoughts to yourself,” Brandt said taking a step in close to Lacombe, who had to crane his neck to look up at the big man. “She’s mine,” he added with a wide smile of pride.

Lacombe nodded. “She’s very good,” he answered.

Brandt chuckled. “You’ve no idea.”

‘She’s also very dead,’ Lacombe thought and followed Brandt to his very first day of training.

ǂ

The sound of the breakwater carried clearly through the darkness and though he could not see it, the Captain knew they were close to land, very close. Captain Hothgaard stood at the bow, silently impressed with Admiral Blakely’s seamanship. The Palmerrio officer insisted on lingering north of Heron until near sunset and then in the dark he navigated deep down the Massi peninsula. According to the Admiral’s estimate they were now positioned some twenty miles to the south of Drake and Hothgaard found he completely trusted the Admiral’s judgment.

“We’ll beach just as the sun rises,” Blakely said from directly behind the Captain. Hothgaard turned. The Palmerrio Admiral was a short, thin man with a full dark beard; on a whole he was unremarkable except for his deep, rumbling voice. “Should we land the Knights first?”

“No,” Hothgaard replied without hesitation. “The horses will be too slow. We’ll land the support infantry and the archers first. They’ll secure the beach head.”

Blakely paused, clearly questioning the decision but in the end he just nodded and set off to carry out the orders.

Hothgaard could understand why he would question the choice. They had precious few foot soldiers. The bulk of the Palmerrio and Rhondono armies were still in Toranado. Even now several thousand Rhondono troops should be moving into the Gap, a feint designed to keep the Massi busy as the bulk of the army dashed north to the Passage of Aleria. In conjunction with the invasion from the south, the Deutzani would cross the border and attack the town of Lynndon. The Temple Knights would occupy the plains and cut Cape off from Manse and threaten the eastern end of the Gap. They would only move against Manse if it became absolutely necessary. The Knights main objective was to cut the growing city off from the plains and the finger. If the Palmerrio prevailed on the Plateau, well then they could just starve the Massi out of their hole. It was a bold, aggressive plan, designed to put maximum pressure on the Massi and the city of Manse, but it left the Knights in a tenuous position during their landing, where they would be very vulnerable to attack. Of course the chance that the Massi had any sizable force anywhere near the landing site would be slim, but as the High Captain of the Temple Knights it was Hothgaard’s job to worry of such things.

Four hours later with the sun rising high in the sky and with the bulk of his Temple Knights off loaded, Hothgaard’s worries, for the most part, came to an end.

“Signal fires,” Captain Tramm said riding over to where Hothgaard mulled over maps of the country. He was sitting comfortably outside his temporary command tent that was erected just off the beach.

Hothgaard frowned. “Where?”

“The closest fire is not a mile to the west with another perhaps three to the south,” Tramm explained. “From what we can gather the fires move off toward Cape in one direction and Solarii in the other.”

Hothgaard smiled. “Well then…the Massi know we’re here.”

“Should we accelerate preparations for the march on Cape?”

Hothgaard shook his head. “No, everything stays on plan. We want the Massi to attack. We want to lure them from their hole.”

“Very well,” Tramm answered. “We’ll be prepared to leave the beach in two hours.”

Captain Hothgaard nodded and when Tramm took his leave he turned to Admiral Blakely.

“When we depart you may make your run on the Toranado fleet at Cape,” the Captain said. “Three days…you must lure them away on the morning of the third day. With the fleet gone, Cape will be vulnerable.”

ǂ

It was time. She’d waited long enough and tonight, finally was the night of action. de Baard feigned sleep, lying very still, and waited impatiently for Brandt to fall asleep, though he was snoring almost as soon as he rolled off of her. He would die next. She would love to slit his throat now, while he slept, but she doubted her ability to heave his large body out the window as she’d done with Afton Sath. In the end she just dressed quietly, strapped her kali to her waist and slipped out into the night.

As she moved down the stairs of the mill, de Baard was surprised by the lightness of her mood and it took her a few moments to realize why her heart was floating. She was happy, for too long she’d been delayed by weak indecision. Tonight the red haired bitch would die! And after the whore was finally dead if Gwaynn did not come to her for comfort, then he would die as well, escape or no. After all she was an Executioner and she’d allowed love to cloud her mind and body for far too long. Tonight she was happy because at last she was finally free of that most tyrannical and destructive emotion. She was a slave to love no longer.

The night was perfect; a cool breeze was coming down the mountains to the far west. Summer was coming to an end. The moon was just a sliver in the sky, as if smiling down from above, and in her happiness de Baard felt a strange desire to throw out her arms and laugh, somehow however, she restrained herself. It was well she did, because before she was even a hundred yards from the mill she spotted a dark figure moving her way. She thought nothing of it. Men were always in and out of the mill at all hours of the night, preparing round the clock for the coming confrontation, but she was glad she refrained from putting her happiness on display for all to see. She walked past but kept a close eye on the man as he went by. He nodded, but she did not recognize him and frowned. Once he was by she caught a whisper of sound so quiet it was nearly lost in the creaking of the water wheels at her back. But she heard it nevertheless, the distinctive hiss of kali sliding from their wood and leather scabbards. Instinctively she dove forward. She moved incredibly fast but even still she felt a knick on her right shoulder blade as the sword sliced through her cape and the first few layers of her skin. By the time she rolled to her feet her own kali were out, which was a fortunate thing because the man continued attacking with skill, speed and tenacity. He said nothing, just waded in and it took everything she had to parry the endless rain of blows pouring her way.

They fought silently for several long minutes; de Baard was astounded by the skill of the man before her. He kept her so off balance by his aggressive, relentless style that she rarely got the opportunity to shift to the attack. She was on the defense from the very first and became slightly dismayed when the situation showed no sign of reversing itself. It did not seem possible and it didn’t take long for de Baard to realize this was no ordinary soldier…he had to be a Tar of Noble.

For his part, Lacombe was equally impressed with the exceptional skill of the woman he was trying so very hard to kill. He was having difficulty believing that anyone could have survived against the onslaught of slashing blades, especially in near darkness. He now understood Nacht’s words of warning, and while it seemed incredible that one so young could have progressed so far, what truly amazed him was de Baard’s strength. Her blows were ringing against his, sapping his speed and draining his stamina. He’d never faced anyone who met him with such powerful counter blows and this from a woman! He was beginning to fear that the fight would continue for so long that other Massi would be drawn to the sounds of the clashing blades and his was silently thankful for the noise of the mill behind him. But as a quick slash from de Baard whistled just past his nose, Lacombe decided it was time to force the issue and end this one way or another.

He maneuvered her around until her back was to the steep bank of the river, making retreat impossible, and then he forced his way in closer and closer, hoping to use his bulk against her. She held him off admirably for a time before her left foot slipped at the very edge of the embankment. Lacombe waded in, but as he moved in for the kill she lunged forward aggressively. She threw up her right kali, blocking the killing blow aimed at her chest, and nearly escaped the misstep, but then Lacombe spun and caught her full in the face with his elbow.

de Baard felt her lower jaw shift in her skull, and stars shot through her vision. She fell off to the left, eyes watering from the pain as she scrambled up away from the bank and her attacker. Lacombe however, cursed softly. He misjudged the Tarina’s exact position as he spun; expecting her to be just a bit farther away where his kali would cut into her soft young flesh, but instead his elbow caught her. The blow was effective, but it was not the killing strike he was anticipating, and it allowed her to escape from the bank of the river.

He moved after her, again attacking with relentless ferocity, but again she managed to fend him off. Lacombe could tell she was in pain and even in the darkness could make out the shift in her jaw. Finally she made a mistake and he slashed inside her defenses, but instead of slicing her throat, the blow came in a bit low and cut into her upper chest, only the top of her ribcage saving her from death.

Lacombe almost smiled as he heard the hiss of pain escape her.

“Tar Nacht sends his greetings,” he whispered, smiling slightly as her eyes widened. She continued to back away from him slowly and he advanced after her. “You’ve fought well…your jaw, it must hurt. You won’t be kissing anyone tonight.”

de Baard said nothing and just continued to retreat before him. She found it hard to believe Nacht would send one of their own to kill her, but she was having an even harder time with the notion that she was near to being beaten.

‘Not beaten yet,’ she thought and then faked another slip. She went down but in control and did not have long to wait. Lacombe pounced immediately. She blocked his first attack easily but the force of the blow caused her jaw to flare in pain and her eyes to water. From a crouch she moved in and sent a powerful blow under Lacombe’s defenses with her right kali, but he was good and sent a return strike at her jaw. The tip of his kali sliced easily through her skin, cutting her to the bone at the point of her chin and slashing left along her jawbone. The pain blinded her and she actually released her right kali and fell onto her back, crying out. From the ground she threw up her left, expecting the final killing blow, but it didn’t come. She blinked the tears from her eyes, desperately trying to clear them. Finally he was there, falling over her. She managed to block the first blow, but the next skewered her high on the shoulder and she yelled out again as Lacombe fell on her causing more pain to flood through her.

“He’s won,’ she thought and was surprised when he did not finish her, instead he rolled off of her onto the ground and softly moaned. She hoisted herself up, the pain in her shoulder making her dizzy but offsetting the pain in her jaw.  A shout came from the direction of the bridge and it was only then that she noticed Lacombe’s left thigh was sliced open, the leg nearly severed; blood was everywhere and draining from the Executioner’s body quickly. But not quick enough for de Baard, who with the last of her strength plunged her lone kali into Lacombe’s exposed neck. She watched him die then reached up and quickly pulled his kali from her shoulder. She screamed loudly and her jaw sent another wave of pain through her system. Her body could finally take no more and shut down. She slid into unconsciousness just as the first Massi guard reached her.

ǂ

Tar Nev was the one who actually opened the bridge to Herra, allowing Gwaynn and Monde to step through into the center of the city and the hub of Noble. They appeared in the plaza outside the Grand Hall where Gwaynn once revealed his sparring skills to the Island’s council members. It seemed like a lifetime ago, though it was only a little over two years past.

‘Time,’ Gwaynn thought with a touch of exasperation. The plaza was very busy with people bustling here and there through the courtyard. The few locals who noticed their arrival were staring at them, a little curious and a little astonished, for it was a well known fact that Travelers were not welcome on Noble, at least without invitation.

“You there!” A commanding voice boomed from behind them. “Traveler. Noble is off limits to your kind.”

A couple of Tars were coming toward them.

‘Weapons Masters,’ Gwaynn corrected himself as he recognizing the small differences in their clothing. The lead man was tall and young, maybe a half a dozen years older than Gwaynn himself. His partner was an older woman who meekly followed behind, apparently content to do so.

“We’ve come to see Tar Kostek,” Zarina Monde said and Gwaynn could tell she was slightly offended by the greeting.

“Not just anyone can get an audience with the High Tar,” the man said stopping directly before the Zarina. He gave Gwaynn and his kali a perfunctory glance, apparently dismissing him as anyone of importance, before turning back to the Traveler.

“Who are you?” Monde asked with growing impatience.

The man looked down at her with a frown as if his name was none of her concern. The Travelers were no longer a force in the land and she could not bully him.

“Weapons Master Richtner,” he finally answered. “You were banished from our Island,” he added then reached out and took a hold of Monde’s left wrist. The immediate crowd around them stopped to watch the confrontation curiously.

Gwaynn slowly removed both his kali; the low hiss of the weapons sliding from their scabbards seemed uncommonly loud in the now quiet courtyard.

Richtner’s eyes went a little wide as he glanced over at Gwaynn, surprised.

“You would challenge the Tars of Noble?” Richtner asked.

“You are no Tar,” Gwaynn answered. “And I’d not challenge the good people of Noble, just your hand, which you will lose at the wrist if you do not release her.”

Richtner grimaced and for the first time looked to his partner for support. She was breathing quickly, obviously concerned and a little afraid, but in spite of this she drew her own kali and turned slightly to challenge Gwaynn.

“Perhaps we should call Tar Riley, Norman,” she said, her voice a little shaky.

Weapons Master Norman Richter shook his head.

‘He was in charge of security here in the courtyard. He would handle this. He had it all under control.’

“Stay out of this Martha,” Richter said. “I doubt the boy wants to challenge two Weapons Masters.” And with that he began to pull Zarina Monde away. Gwaynn twirled one kali and began the first move to relieve Richter of his right hand.

“Weapons Master!” a voice sounded from behind Gwaynn, a familiar voice. “If you do not have a death wish I suggest you release the High Zarina at once.”

Richter blanched but did not release Monde.

“Yes,” the Traveler said. “Tar Nev would not be pleased.” Richter quickly jerked his hand away.

Gwaynn smiled and turned to see Tar Endid striding toward him.

“You’ve come to petition, Gwaynn Massi?” Endid asked and slapped Gwaynn hard on his back. Gwaynn grimaced but smiled. Richter went a further shade of white at the mention of Tar Nev’s pupil. As discreetly as possible he began to back away from the group. Weapons Master Martha Simpson smiled to herself and followed.

“Yes, I’ve come to petition,” Gwaynn answered and from the smile on Endid’s face he got the distinct impression the Tar had been waiting anxiously for this day.

There were only two events that could bring the training on the island of Noble to a standstill, one of course was the yearly Competitions and the other was a petition for aid from a Family against either another Family or the High King himself. The Competitions happened every year; the last petition to Noble was over a hundred years prior.

Word spread like a summer grass fire on a windy day. Endid took Gwaynn and Zarina Monde to the large veranda on the riverside of the Great Hall to wait for the Council’s summons and for High Tar Kostek to return from Euter.

“He’s been expecting you,” Tar Endid explained as they all sipped on lemon ice. The drink was a favorite of Gwaynn’s and half of his attention was caught up trying to remember the last time he’d enjoyed a glass.

‘Several years,’ he thought and suddenly wished that Samantha were with him to enjoy the treat.

“Why aren’t you with your students?” Monde asked Tar Endid and Gwaynn snapped out of his dreamy thoughts.

Endid laughed and the sound reminded Gwaynn of Tar Nev. “Oh, I’ve got them running. Running near fifteen miles today. Someone from Mneme quarter will beat the Lady Vio in this year’s run at the Competitions. If we don’t it won’t be from lack of training.”

“Vio,” was all Gwaynn said and smiled. He found himself very anxious to see her again.

“Yes,” Endid said with a slight frown. “My bet is on the Lady Bethany. She’s a third year now and has become very driven in her studies.”

The name tugged at Gwaynn’s mind. “Lady Bethany,” he said absently.

Endid was grinning again. “Yes, she’s Massi and one of your biggest fans,” he added. “She’s likely to want to join you once she hears of the petitio…..”

“That’s enough Tar Endid,” a woman’s voice said from behind them. Gwaynn turned and watched as three Tars walked out on to the veranda.

Endid stopped talking but seemed nonplussed by the interruption. “Tarina Ethelridge…you remember Prince Gwaynn Massi.”

“Of course,” the Tarina said and offered a hand to Gwaynn who was now standing in greeting. Gwaynn took her hand and placed a brief kiss on the white of her knuckles then he straightened up to his full height.

“You’ve grown,” the Tarina commented, thinking back to that crucial council meeting a year…no two years ago. Time was getting out of hand.

Gwaynn did not reply to her comment just turned to the others. Tarina Ethelridge followed his gaze.

“May I introduce Tar Piros and Tar Eichmann, both of the Council.”

“Yes, we all were privileged enough to see you fight in the Grand Hall…extraordinary,” Tar Piros commented while taking Gwaynn’s hand.

Both men were old, well past their prime and the Tarina, though still handsome and much younger than her male counterparts, was still well old enough to be Gwaynn’s mother.

“High Zarina,” Piros added, greeting the Traveler as well, and minutes later after all the various greetings they all sat down, though the atmosphere on the veranda was now distinctly less casual.

“It’s being said all over Herra that you’ve come to petition the Council,” the Tarina Ethelridge finally said.

Gwaynn nodded. “Yes that’s true.”

The Tarina shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid then you’ve have come all this way for nothing.”

“Tarina Eth….” Tar Endid began but fell silent as she gave him a commanding look.

“You see Prince Gwaynn, you are not the recognized ruler of Massi and therefore are not in a position to petition for aid,” the Tarina continued.

Gwaynn was about to protest when he caught a whisper of a movement flutter by his consciousness. ‘Zebo,’ he thought, but could not have said why. He glanced over at the Traveler Monde, who sat frozen, expression blank.

“I am the heir and ruler of Massi,” Gwaynn spoke up quickly, not truly caring what the Tarina Ethelridge thought. He would still make his petition to Noble Island.

She smiled a blandly at him. “Of course you may try, but do not be too disappointed if your words go unheeded.”

Gwaynn was only half-listening; part of his attention was still riveted on Zarina Monde. Zebo making contact could only mean one thing; the Temple Knights had arrived in Massi.

“I will still offer my petition,” Gwaynn added, his heart hammering in his chest, worry for Samantha and the unborn baby rampaging about in his mind.

“And you should,” a familiar voice said from the door. Gwaynn looked up and saw Kostek, his old teacher and new High Tar, standing in the doorway.

Tarina Ethelridge frowned. “That will be for the Council to decide,” she said briskly.

Tar Kostek smiled, though to Gwaynn it seemed more than a little sad. “As High Tar I am head of the Council,” he informed the Tarina.

“Yes, but may I remind you High Tar, that you are not The Council.”

Kostek nodded. “And may I remind you Tarina Ethelridge that neither are you.”

The Tarina sat silent in her chair for a moment glaring at High Tar Kostek. He ignored her.

“Prince Gwaynn, High Zarina Monde, might I have a word with you…” he glanced around briefly, “in private,” he added and motioned for the two to join him.

They rose immediately and began following him from the veranda. “Tar Endid,” Kostek said and the young Tar vaulted from his seat, a wide smile on his face.

“The Knights have landed south of Drake and are moving on Cape,” Monde whispered quietly to Gwaynn once they were in the hall. Gwaynn bent low to hear her words. “The Rhondono are challenging the Toranado at the Gap.”

Gwaynn straightened back up and continued to follow along behind Tar Kostek. He wasn’t surprised by the news, just dismayed. It was all coming too fast; they needed more time to make preparations.  As they moved toward the High Tar’s private quarters he wondered if his General was having better luck persuading the Cassinni.

ǂ

Lonogan Bock was kissing Traveler Jess na Gall, and in his mind kissing her well, at least until she suddenly jumped back from him like a shot. She stood less than a foot from him, her eyes wide and passionate; her cheeks were flushed and tinged a bright pink which momentarily confused Bock, after all she was no longer a young lass.

“Monde,” she whispered in explanation then she closed her eyes and her face went slightly blank, after a moment a dim haze appeared in center of the gazebo where moments before the two of them were sitting and talking, then standing and kissing. He hadn’t meant to kiss her, hadn’t even considered it an option. Oh, she was attractive enough, too attractive by far. But he was not so foolish as to believe that someone like na Gall would entertain the idea of kissing him back. Even now he was having a hard time believing it, though moments before she seemed enthusiastic enough.

‘I must be a fool,’ he thought, trying to pry his eyes from her moistened lips. When he finally succeeded in forcing them away, they went right back like disobedient children hunting candy.

“Hello High Zarina,” na Gall finally said as she completed the connection.

“na Gall,” Monde answered. “Is General Bock with you?”

Jess looked quickly into Lonogan’s eyes and had to fight down the urge to giggle.

‘Get a grip,’ she thought to herself. “Yes, he’s here.”

“Lonogan,” the voice of Gwaynn Massi said through the mist. “How goes it on your end?”

Bock’s smile faded slightly and he was finally able to tear his mind from the thought of kissing the beautiful Traveler before him, nevertheless he licked his lips absently.

“Slowly,” na Gall answered. “We have an audience with King Marc this evening. My father is returning to Parma later this afternoon and will escort us.”

There was a pause then Gwaynn’s disembodied voice asked. “Zarina na Gall, how soon will you be able to Travel?”

“Travel?” na Gall replied momentarily confused and saddened. She was enjoying her time with her family, and her relative alone time with Lonogan. She was surprised by her powerful emotions when she was near the man, though she’d recognized her attraction to the Massi General long ago. It was only last night that her feelings for him truly blossomed, and he hadn’t done a thing. He just slept in the guest bedroom of the house she grew up in, but the fact that he was so close and in a place so familiar to her helped her to realize just how strongly her feelings for him had become. Late the previous night, or more accurately very early this morning, she’d risen very thirsty and passed his room. The moon was bright and in the dim light she could see that he was lying, shirtless under a thin sheet, half on his side but mostly on his stomach. His hair was tousled but his face was as sweet and serene as a young boy’s. Her heart, like a tumbler, did a little flip and continued to flip regularly ever since.

“To Massi?” she asked.

“Yes. The Temple Knights have landed.”

She glanced at Bock in time to see his face fall, even though the news was expected. Her heart did another flip as she thought perhaps his disappointment matched her own at the prospect of leaving Parma and her childhood home.

“I’m not sure…several days,” she answered, wondering just where the Knights were located. She could Travel to Heron from here, but would be hard pressed to jump from there to Manse without further rest.

“Perhaps you should Travel to Noble,” Monde said, interrupting her thoughts, “then we can all make the trip to Manse together.”

na Gall thought about this for a moment, frowning until Lonogan reached out and took her hand in his. Her heart jumped again and she gave him a small smile. “I may be able to Travel to Noble by tomorrow, late afternoon or early evening.”

“Good!” Gwaynn and Monde said in unison, and then they heard Monde chuckle. “Plan on it,” the Zarina continued. “I’ll contact you soon.”

“As you wish,” na Gall answered.

“Win the Cassinni for us,” Gwaynn added as the Speaker bubble slowly disappeared.

After it was fully gone, Lonogan and Jess stood close together, still holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. Both wanted to resume kissing, but each felt that somehow, after such horrendous news, it would be the height of selfishness to do so. And even though Lonogan Bock was completely taken with the woman in front of him, his mind refused to stay present and kept darting back across hundreds of miles of water to his army in Massi. Worry caused his brows to furrow slightly and na Gall reached up and caressed his cheek, bringing him fully back to Parma.

“Tomorrow,” she said and then she kissed him again, silently dismissing all the reasons why she should not do so.

ǂ

Prince Phillip Toranado pushed back from the front lines and headed to the rear, away from the fighting. Arrows fell sporadically around him, but he paid them no mind. He could do nothing about them in any case. If he was hit, he was hit. There was no possible way to avoid them in such close quarters. He was just happy that the Rhondono had so few archers.

“This way M’lord,” the messenger said, leading Phillip back through the lines of grimy, sweaty soldiers, until finally they were in a safe zone. They were now far enough back that the enemy archers could not threaten them but even so they were still surrounded by soldiers. The Scar Gap was only around a hundred yards across in this area with a pair of steep rocky cliffs on either side, hemming the fighting in. To make matters tighter, tall pines grew close to the rock face and just the center channel was clear of obstacles. The narrow confines allowed for only a limited engagement, less than two hundred men could face off at any one time. It was a place where a small group of determined fighters could hold off a much larger force, Captain Jima and his small band of soldiers had illustrated the fact quite nicely not six months ago when he held up the entire Deutzani army for nearly a month. But the narrows of the Gap also made for intense, high energy fighting as fresh troops were constantly rotated forward to relieve the tired, the wounded or the dead. Prince Phillip, thanks to the heavy training he received with Gwaynn and the Massi, had occupied his position at the front for well over an hour, hacking and stabbing at the enemy. When the messenger arrived he was nearing the end of his stamina, so he did not argue too much at the idea of moving back for a rest. Plus a sword tip grazed him in his right side. It was a minor wound, but it needed to be tended, plus a few ribs were beginning to bark at him from hard blows his chain mail managed to deflect.

“It’s a relatively small force of Rhondono soldiers,” Captain Trammel said as Phillip stretched his right arm up over his head and gingerly felt his ribs with his left hand. The two men walked side by side through the outskirts of the camp and into the large command tent. Doctor Ryebald moved forward and began pulling off the Prince’s armor. Phillip allowed her to do so without complaint, feeling that he might need a few stitches before heading back to the fighting.

“How…” Phillip began.

“Laynee,” Trammel answered with a nod at the girl who sat quietly in one corner watching closely as the doctor stripped the top layer of clothes off the Prince. She colored slightly as Phillip smiled at her.

“What of the Knights?” he asked her, no longer uncomfortable with the fact that so much depended on such a young girl…a pretty one at that.

‘She is going to be a rare beauty when she blooms,’ he thought as his gaze swept over the small Traveler and he noticed for the first time that her young breasts were now quite prominent, though when they first appeared he could not say. She noticed his look and her face colored a bit more, but she did not try to hide or cover herself. She wanted him to look…desperately wanted him to look.

“Zebo says they’re still nearly a hundred miles from Cape,” she answered and allowed her own gaze to travel over his body. She winced slightly at the bloody gash in his right side, and quickly looked away as Ryebald began sewing.

Phillip caught the young girl’s expression and chuckled then winced as the thick needle pierced his skin.

“It’s not a large force,” Tabernas said as he pulled the tent flap aside and strode in, his hair slick with sweat and matted against his head and neck. He stopped short as he caught sight of the doctor with his Prince.

Phillip shrugged. “It’s nothing,” he said then added. “We’ll leave come dark, move back to Manse.”

No one said anything, but they all felt the same regret. They could force their way through the Scar Gap eventually, a small force could not hold them up forever, but each knew it could hold them up long enough for the Knights to cross the open plains of Massi and trap them in the narrow confines. And if that happened they would be fighting on two fronts and in all likelihood be destroyed.

“The Rhondono have been giving ground all day, tempting us to move farther into the Gap,” Tabernas said flopping down in a chair. He was tired. He’d done his share of killing. He hoped the Rhondono force facing them was indeed expendable, because they were taking a beating against the Toranado heavy infantry.

Phillip nodded. “They’re underestimating us if they think we would fall for such an obvious trap.”

“Yes, or they want us to think they are underestimating us,” the Weapons Master quipped.

Phillip thought about that for a long moment, considering this new angle, then barked out a laugh.

“If I believed that, I would be overestimating them. No one that’s subtle,” he said and then glanced again at the young Traveler. She sat there gazing at him with her long hair and large eyes.

“How far can you project?”

Laynee shrugged. “I practice every other day. It makes me tired,” she answered then jumped down off the table she was sitting on and shook her hair free so that it rippled down her back like a long blonde river of silk. Tabernas smiled at the young girl’s obvious advances toward the Prince.

‘They learn so young,’ he thought, ‘or perhaps it’s instinctual.’

“I can’t make Manse yet,” she continued with a frown, “or Cape, which is farther, but I can get to Colchester,” she finally added with just a hint of pride.

The Prince smiled at her. “That’s very good,” he complimented. “Tomorrow, when we’re finally out of the Gap, I’ll want you hunting the Knights just in case. I don’t want to get caught in the open. I need you to contact Captain Tanner, tonight if you are up to it?”

Laynee nodded then shivered. She approached the Prince and looked more closely at the wound in his side. The doctor was finished stitching and was beginning to clean the area. Laynee reached out and took the wet rag from her then began to clean the Prince’s wound with soft gentle strokes.

“Captain Tanner and Zebo will be out of Manse,” she said quietly. “They should be easy to reach,” she added confidently then slowly looked up at the Prince who was looking down at her with those dark, dreamy eyes of his.

ǂ

de Baard woke confused and thirsty, gazing up at the canvas ceiling of the tent. At first she did not know why she was here, in bed, when it was clearly daylight, but then she made a move to rise. Pain exploded through her entire body and she dropped back on the cot, dizzy and panting. When the stars finally faded from her vision and her breathing slowed to normal she shifted her head slightly, again pain reared up at her like a guard dog on an intruder and she was still. But she managed to move her head just enough to see that she was not alone. She was in the main medical tent and in the bunk next to her was a young man who was smiling at her.

“Doc, she’s awake,” the young man said happily. “We weren’t sure you’d make it,” he added, then pointed down at his foot. de Baard only shifted her eyes to follow his movement.

“Busted my leg,” he informed her as Van Valencia came into her field of view.

“Hello Cyndar,” the young Deutzani said looking down at her. “Doc Linkler will be around shortly. Are you thirsty?”

de Baard shook her head ever so slightly and pain again bloomed in the garden of her mind, like a weed. Her eyes watered as Van turned away. He returned quickly with a bowl and a clean rag.

“Your jaw was dislocated,” Van explained as he added a light brown powder to the water in the bowl. He mixed it up until it was dissolved. “For the pain,” he informed her.

“And you got thirty-three stitches across your chest,” said the young man in the next bunk, ignoring the sharp look he was getting from Van, “and another twelve in your chin.”

“Hush,” Van snapped then turned back to de Baard. “Both of those wounds will heal nicely, the wound below your left shoulder was deep and cut through a lot of muscle. It may be a while before you get full use of your arm back.”

“But the doc said…”

“Henry you better shut your mouth or I’ll dislocate your jaw,” Van yelled at him. Henry’s eyes went wide and he slouched back angrily.

“Fine!” he said. Van ignored him.

He dipped the rag in the water and held it up to de Baard’s mouth and squeezed a bit of water between her lips. Embarrassing as her situation was, the water was liquid paradise, but when she swallowed the pain once again threatened to overwhelm her. Her mouth felt as if someone tried to tear her tongue out by the roots. If she wasn’t so thirsty she would have stopped trying to swallow, the pain was so bad, but she continued, hoping that eventually the medicine Van was giving her would ease her suffering.

After a few minutes Van held up the empty bowl and smiled at her but it was not an emotion she shared and it must have shown in her eyes because Van stood and patted her leg softly.

“All you need is rest,” he said and left her to her thoughts.

de Baard stared blankly at the ceiling for several minutes, anger welling up inside. Sinis tried to kill her! And when they learned of their failure they would try again.

‘Well two can play that game,’ Cyndar thought to herself. ‘Once the bitch is dead I think I’ll pay a little visit to Nacht.’ As she plotted her revenge and her future she did not even realize that Gwaynn’s death was no longer on her agenda. Oh, she would still kill the Fultan whore who stole his heart, but then her business resided on Sinis Island. If she survived that trial and if Gwaynn survived his little tiff with the High King then…who knew? Anything could happen.

But first, she must regain her strength. Slowly, as if she was trying to catch a fly with her hand, she moved her left arm up and gingerly felt her face. It was heavily bandaged, rows of tight cotton wrapped around the bridge of her nose. They skipped her nostrils and mouth and then continued on around her chin. Additional bandages wrapped around the top of her head holding her jaw snuggly in place.

She sighed. And tentatively moved her arm down and felt where the bastard’s kali cut into her chest but again all she felt were tight bandages. She rested her arm on her midriff. She made one small attempt to move her right arm, but the pain, which was hiding close by, reared up once more and bit her. So she went still. She lay there wondering how long it would take her to get back on her feet until twenty minutes later she was sleeping fitfully.

V

“Above all he must like you,” General Clark na Gall said as the carriage rounded a corner and entered the palace grounds. He was here without his wife’s blessing for two reasons; the first was that he sympathized with the plight of the Massi people and second he had a growing hunch that when the High King succeeded in subduing his current targets he would soon turn eyes on King Marc and the Cassinni. Thus far his country had adamantly refused to go to war, despite King Marc’s great loyalty to the High King. King Marc was cautious to a fault, and though timid he had a stubborn streak. He would remain neutral if he could, but General na Gall felt that taking such a position in the face of mounting pressure from the High King was putting the Cassinni in a very dangerous position. He feared for his country and felt they would need allies very soon. If anyone asked, this was the reason he would give for bringing the Massi General, but the true force behind his decision was that he could deny his daughter nothing.

Bock frowned. “Like me?”  He asked, as the carriage bumped along the main road to the palace. He was sitting next to Jess, facing her father whom was across from them. He tried to concentrate on what the old general was saying but every now and then na Gall’s leg would be bump electrically into his, innocently caused by the jostling carriage.

Clark nodded. “King Marc is a simple man, with simple tastes and simple reasons for his decisions. But he is also stubborn. If he takes a dislike to you, no amount of persuasion from his advisors will change his mind.”

“Advisors,” Bock echoed flatly.

“Yes, the King has a host of advisors. I’m one of them.”

“You’re his favorite,” Jess said without any attempt to hide the pride in her voice.

Clark looked at his daughter and smiled. “Perhaps…but there are many and Marc has a way of only hearing those who agree with him.”

Bock frowned again as the carriage pulled to a stop. “Well if he’s timid and loyal to the High King, he won’t like what I have to say.”

The Cassinni General nodded. “Your job will be challenging indeed. I suggest you go slowly…try to charm him before you request any action.”

Bock flashed a look of concern at Jess na Gall, but she just smiled at him. “You’re charming,” she said in support, her eyes dancing with Lonogan’s and it was General na Gall’s turn to frown slightly.

Bock stepped from the carriage, then turned and took Jess’ hand and helped her down the step. Her father followed, now paying very close attention to the interaction between the two.

‘My daughter has a lover,’ he thought but was not quite correct, for the two had as yet only exchanged a few kisses. Nevertheless the heat between the two young people was growing and at the moment was trying to burn a hole in Clark na Gall’s heart. But from the beginning of time, a daughter’s passion was a father’s lament.

“General!” A voice exclaimed from the top of a wide stone staircase. Bock turned and saw a short balding man dressed in a dark navy blue uniform. He moved spryly down the stairs of the palace toward them. “Traveler na Gall,” he added and stopped a step above Jess and gave her a quick kiss on each of her cheeks.

“Lovelier than ever,” he said. “I see Miranda in the woman before me.”

“Thank the stars,” Clark said and shook the smaller man’s hand.

“Admiral Seymour, may I introduce General Lonogan Bock of the Massi.”

The Admiral turned, still a few steps above the Massi General and studied Bock for a moment eye to eye, then held out his hand.

“A pleasure,” the Admiral said. “I must say we were surprised by the timing of your visit.”

Bock smiled slightly. ‘The Cassinni must have spies…or they’re kept very well informed by the High King.’ Neither thought was very comforting.

“How so?” he asked, hoping to confirm his suspicions.

The Admiral just looked at him and chuckled. “Ah yes. We mustn’t keep the King waiting. He is anxious to see you all.” And with that, the little Admiral turned and raced up the stairs with seemingly boundless energy. The three followed behind at a much more dignified pace. As they did so, Clark na Gall noticed that Jess immediately turned to Lonogan for support, entwining her arm lightly in his as they climbed the massive staircase. Her strength was just beginning to return to normal. It hurt him slightly that she would turn to another for support when he was so close by her side, but the fact that the Massi General appeared to be ever attentive and willing, cushioned the blow somewhat.

‘Old fool,’ he thought to himself as he climbed behind the young couple, ‘she’s not a young girl anymore. She’s beautiful, probably had scores of lovers…’ General Clark shook the unwanted thought away, but it lingered, like wine gone bad, leaving a nasty aftertaste in his mouth.

Admiral Seymour led them quickly through the entrance hall of the palace and straight back into a wide hallway. The dark mahogany walls were lined with hundreds of paintings depicting Cassinni royalty of old, all in gilded frames. Bock glanced at a few of the portraits as they walked by, but was continually distracted by the Admiral who, from his place in front, would every so often look back at them as if checking to be sure that they were still following. The little man reminded Lonogan of an excited dog out for a walk that would run ahead and then return, then run ahead and return, over and over again. Luckily they reached their destination quickly and the Admiral guided them into a large receiving room. Inside were perhaps a score of people, though a half dozen of these were musicians and there were also three…no four acrobatic tumblers present as well. The Admiral led them over to a group of men attempting to teach another how to walk on his hands.

“M’lord Marc,” the Admiral said over the music which stopped abruptly. “May I introduce…”

“Traveler na Gall!” The King said from his upside down position. The two men who were holding his feet for balance immediately released him and he sprang upright quickly. His face was red from being inverted but he smiled widely and strode quickly to Jess. He embraced her tightly and kissed her on each cheek as if they were long lost friends. It was true they’d met on several occasions, but the greeting was unexpected in any event.

“You’ve been away from your homeland too long,” King Marc said, clearly prizing the fact that the Traveler was Cassinni.

Jess smiled at him and patted his hand. “It would be a danger to our people if I was to visit Cassinni too often or for too long,” she explained, watching the King’s face darken as if a cloud suddenly drifted in front of his mind’s eye.

“General na Gall!” The King exclaimed and at once the thought cloud drifted away. “Can you walk on your hands?”

The General laughed. “No…maybe at one time when I was much younger. Your Highness…this is General Lonogan Bock of the Massi.”

The reigning monarch of Cassinni smiled widely at Lonogan, then his brows furrowed slightly but quick as a flash he was smiling widely again. Lonogan smiled back and studied the King before him. Marc was young and tall. He wore his hair very long and loose and it hung in brown waves over his broad shoulders. But it was the King’s face that truly defined the man. It was a handsome face, strong and open, without a hint of deviousness.

“General!” King Marc said happily, pumping Bock’s hand up and down in a rapid shake. “Can you walk on your hands?”

Lonogan smiled back, amused. “Well I…”

“M’lord,” an elderly woman said from behind the Cassinni king. She moved forward, looking slightly embarrassed. Lonogan saw that she was a handsome woman, though moving rapidly toward old age. Her hair was long and gray, with only a few hints of black still remaining. Her skin was tan and leathery, creating an interesting backdrop for her luminous blue eyes. “I’m sure the Massi General is here on serious business.”

King Marc frowned. “I sincerely apologize, General Bock…”

“Not at all,” Lonogan interrupted, “and yes I can walk on my hands, but I have not done so in many years. I may be a little out of practice.” And with that he bent over and flipped himself up onto his hands, his feet hanging only for a moment before he dropped back down. But without hesitating he pushed himself back up, hung for a moment and then started walking off. He made it only about six feet before losing his balance once more and his feet dropped back to the ground. This time, however, he stood up surprised by the encouraging applause he was getting from the King…and Jess na Gall, who beamed at him. General na Gall was also clapping. He nodding and mouthed ‘well done’ silently behind the King and his closest advisors. The elderly woman who’d spoken up was frowning directly behind the King, but she said nothing more.

“Excellent…excellent,” the King said. “How did you learn?” He asked, then whistled and bent at the waist to welcome a small, hairy runt of a dog, who leaped into the King’s arms. Marc cuddled the beast and stroked it absently before turning once again to Lonogan.

“As a boy,” Lonogan began, taking an instant liking to the Cassinni King, “a traveling show came through my town. They were amazing, and of course as a boy my dream was to join such a show myself someday. I practiced tumbling, juggling and walking on my hands for weeks on end…”

“You can juggle?” Marc asked, looking thoroughly impressed.

Lonogan nodded. “Though again, it has been some time since I’ve practiced.”

“I wanted to join a show,” the King said simply, a look of whimsy on his face. “But I’m King…and a King cannot be part of a traveling show.”

Lonogan frowned with him. “No, I guess not, and neither can a General…but that doesn’t mean we can’t practice in our free time.”

The King thought about this for a moment and then smiled. “That’s exactly right,” he said and then dropped the dog gently to the ground and clapped Lonogan on the arm.

“Perhaps we should ask why the Massi General has come to call on us,” the elderly woman hinted from behind then she reached out a hand to Lonogan.

“I’m Admiral Criswell…Natalie,” she said introducing herself, and then added. “Retired.”

“My pleasure,” Bock said shaking her hand, then followed along behind the King, who led them all to a large table where they each took a chair. “And I’m here,” he began after taking his seat and turning his attention back to the King, “to seek the aid of the Cassinni.”

The King smiled at Bock and nodded, though Lonogan was aware of Admiral Criswell frowning at them both.

“The Cassinni are always willing to help a friendly neighbor,” King Marc said enthusiastically. “What can we do?”

“We would like you to move your fleet off of the finger of Massi and make sure no ships from the Palmerrio or Rhondono land on our shores.”

The King’s looked confused for a moment and then glanced to Criswell for help.

“The Palmerrio and Rhondono are with the High King,” she explained and instantly a frown appeared on Marc’s face. He looked hard at Lonogan for a moment, obviously growing angry.

“The High King has attacked the Massi,” Jess na Gall said softly from her place close by Lonogan.

King Marc shook his head negatively, as if he didn’t believe her.

“But he has,” Jess insisted, “as he attacked the Toranado and the Travelers.”

“The High King is my friend,” Marc insisted. “He would not do those bad things.”

“The High King is your friend…” Admiral Criswell said.

“Yes, he is my King,” General Keadle interrupted, “but he has done bad things.”

Criswell frowned at the General, who stared back blandly. He hated Criswell and the influence she had over his King. Oh, he didn’t believe she was a bad person, or that she would use her influence to sway the King off the path of what was best for the Cassinni, but she had a very inflated opinion of her own judgment. To his thinking, anyone who thought themselves infallible proved themselves so, even before any additional decisions were made.

“M’lord…the High King has always shown the Cassinni the deepest friendship and respect,” Criswell argued. “It would be dangerous to throw that aside.”

Bock watched this interplay with growing dismay. It was obvious that the King of Cassinni was not truly fit to make such a decision and Lonogan quickly decided he would have no part in trying to sway such a man to go to war. If Cassinni blood was to be spilled it would not come from his hand, though now he had to think of some way to break the news of his failure to his own King.

“I’ll not force this decision upon you,” Bock said standing abruptly, surprising King Marc and both the na Galls. Jess reached out and put a hand on his arm.

“We cannot give up so readily,” she said, her eyes pleading for him to retake his seat.

Lonogan smiled at her and then his eyes scanned to her father, the King’s advisors and finally to King Marc himself, who was eyeing Bock thoughtfully.

“M’lord,” Bock said quietly. “You have enough people grappling for your thoughts. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

Marc stood and shook hands with Lonogan, confused by the sudden turn of events. He liked the Massi General, and was troubled that he was obviously going away empty and unhappy.

Jess and her father stood as one, taking their cue from Lonogan, though Jess still did not look happy about the decision. Her father however, was studying General Bock closely, immensely impressed by Lonogan’s quick insight into the politics of Cassinni.

“Should we continue your hand-walking lessons?” Bock heard Admiral Criswell ask as they turned and began to walk from the room.

“M’lord I think…” Lonogan heard General Keadle begin, until Jess pulled even with him.

“I cannot believe you are going to give up this easily,” she said harshly, touching his arm lightly to soften her words and let him know that she was still very much on his side.

“Your King should not be making war decisions,” Bock answered her simply as they left the room. King Marc watched them as they left, ignoring the acrobats and jugglers and especially his advisors who now surrounded him.

“But he has to, he is King after all, no matter the depth of his intelligence,” Jess argued back as she slipped her hand into his and gave a little squeeze. She slowed her walk, hoping to reverse his course, but he pulled her along easily and appeared not to notice her attempt to impede his progress. “Father, tell him.”

“I think your friend understands the Cassinni quiet well…remarkably so in fact,” Clark na Gall answered as he followed along behind. “I can only hope he understands my daughter as well,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Jess asked, but her father just shook his head and smiled.

She remained quiet for the rest of the trip out of the palace.

“What will you tell Gwaynn?” she asked as the three of them waited for the carriage at the bottom of the palace stairs. The night was cool and clear with the moon shining brightly down on them.

Lonogan looked down at Jess, who still stood at his side, her long hair blowing softly about in the night breeze. His breath caught in his throat; she looked so damned beautiful, and he wondered secretly if Gwaynn felt the same when he looked down at Samantha in the moonlight.

He shrugged. “I’ll think of something,”

“Well you’d better. Gwaynn was counting on me to bring the Cassi….” She stopped as footsteps sounded on the stairs behind them. They turned and spotted General Keadle hurrying toward them. He saluted General na Gall.

“Sir,” he said but then immediately turned his attention to Lonogan. “The King is troubled…but he has not made his decision yet.” The General paused for a moment then continued. “It will be a few days.”

“But Admiral Criswell…” Lonogan began.

“The Admiral has influence and a good deal of power, but our King makes up his own mind,” Keadle answered as if insulted.

“I told you,” Jess said softly, but Lonogan poked her with his elbow, silencing her.

The Cassinni General shook her words off in any case. “But that is not why I’ve come to you. I would suggest you leave Cassinni as soon as possible…tonight if you can,” he finished with a glance as Jess.

“Why?” Clark said loudly with a frown. His daughter had just arrived.

“I believe the High King has his spies in the cabinet.”

“Criswell?” Lonogan asked.

Keadle frowned for a moment then shook his head. “I don’t believe so. But I don’t think it’s safe for you to stay now that your presence is widely known.”

“Will you help us?” Jess asked. “With the King I mean.”

The General paused. “Criswell has too much influence and might even fancy herself as ruler of Cassinni by proxy. I counter her advice whenever I disagree…but to openly challenge the High King? It’s not a very healthy decision.”

Bock frowned. “It was not our decision, nor was it the Toranado’s. You will need to hope and pray that the Cassinni are afforded such a choice when we are gone. But by not supporting the High King openly…I have my doubts,” he finished just as their carriage pulled in front of them.

“Thanks for the warning General,” Bock added, shaking his hand then he turned and opened the carriage door for Jess and her father.

They rode off, leaving a confused and troubled Cassinni General behind them.

ǂ

Gwaynn waited nervously on the arena floor of the Grand hall. Rows upon rows of chairs were added to the main level since there would be no sparring demonstration this evening. The place was packed with Tars, Weapons Masters, students and many other of the island’s inhabitants. Gwaynn found it hard to believe that nearly two years had passed since his last audience in this very chamber. If anything he felt more nervous on this occasion, so much more depended on his success.

“You’ll do fine,” High Zarina Monde encouraged. She leaned over close to whisper in his ear, even though the noise of the crowd would have easily drowned out her normal voice. Gwaynn nodded as the ten Council members strode in from a side door and took their places on the dais. The crowd fell quiet but there was a rumble of moving chairs and shuffling feet as everyone took their seats.

Just before Tar Kostek called the meeting to order, Gwaynn turned and glanced behind him. Vio was sitting three rows back with the rest of Mele quarter. Gwaynn thought that she must have been watching him because she immediately caught his eye and beamed brightly at him. He’d hoped for more time with her and the rest of the students he knew, but as it was, they only had a moment for a quick ‘hello’ before each had to take their respective places. He smiled back at her then quickly turned around to face the front as Kostek pounded heavily on the tabletop.

“Greetings to one and all from Noble Island,” the High Tar began, his face very serious. “We’ve called you all here due to the dire situation which currently resides across the lands of the Inland Sea. Noble Island has received a petition from the Massi Family for military help against the High King.” Tar Kostek nodded curtly to Gwaynn, who sat in the very front row alongside most of the Tars of Noble Island.

“The petition requires us…” Kostek continued but was cut off as Tar Ethelridge stood and spoke without prompting.

“With all respect Tar Kostek, I believe a majority of the Council fails to recognize the request as a petition,” she said, speaking in a high clear voice, a voice full of strength and confidence.

High Tar Kostek stood stunned for a moment. He had not anticipated such a tactic but instantly knew what Ethelridge and her core supporters were attempting to do. Kostek remained silent for a long time, flustered and unable to think how to thwart Ethelridge, so in the end he attempted just to ignore her. He turned back to the waiting assembly and immediately noticed the frown on Gwaynn Massi’s face.

“The petition…” Kostek began in a low, faltering voice.

“It is not a petition,” Ethelridge interrupted again. “Gwaynn Massi is not the recognized leader of the Massi Family; he has not been crowned by the High King and therefore the petition is not valid and should not be recognized.”

A low murmur swept the crowd and gradually grew louder as the import of the statement struck home.

“But Gwaynn is the recognized leader of the Massi people,” Kostek replied addressing Ethelridge and thereby validating her argument for many in the audience.

Ethelridge shook her head sadly as if the facts, though not to her personal liking, were irrefutable.

“Not by the High King, therefore he has no legal claim over the land of Massi,” she said and glanced at Gwaynn with a look of insincere apology.

High Zarina Monde could take no more and quickly stood. “The High King attacked the Massi people, helping the Deutzani to overthrow their legitimate rule,” she said loudly then added, “just as he attacked the Travelers…without provocation.”

Again a loud murmur swept the crowd.

“The claim that the High King was involved in the internal conflict between the Massi and the Deutzani has never been substantiated,” Ethelridge countered quickly and Gwaynn’s face flushed with anger, but before he could express his outrage the High Tar spoke once more.

“Internal conflict?” Kostek asked with disbelief.

“Nor has the High King been implicated in any way for the attack on the Travelers.”

The grumbles that moved through the audience grew louder. Many of those present witnessed the original flight of the Travelers from Light; many saw the Temple Knights through the large bridge created between the two Islands.

“I saw Temple Knights…” someone from the crowd shouted but Tar Ethelridge seemed nonplussed.

“Yes…there were men dressed as Temple Knights, but I believe the attack truly came from Sinis,” she said. “Regardless, it does not change the fact that we have gathered to hear a request for aid which is without merit. The Massi lost their rights to the land around the finger to the Deutzani. The High King has only stepped in recently to quell the rebellion and to put a halt to the naked aggression of the Toranado.”

The crowd sat in stunned silence as Tar Kostek blustered. He could not comprehend such a position. It flew against logic; it flew against reality, but before he could marshal his thoughts against such an improbable turn of events, Tar Ethelridge continued.

“I place a motion before the Council that we dismiss the petition at once to show our loyalty and support of the High King.” It fell so quiet in the Hall that the blind might think it empty. Not a sound escaped the crowd, not a murmur, not a cough.

“Those in favor of dismissal,” Ethelridge’s high clear voice rang out in the silence. There was only a moment of hesitation.

“Aye!” Called Tar Conrad from his position directly next to Ethelridge.

“Aye!” Ethelridge echoed.

“Nay!” Called Tar Brooks, a very old man and staunch supporter of the late Tar Amon and therefore Tar Kostek.

“Aye.”

“Aye.”

“Nay,” said Tar Kostek, his loss of control weighing heavy on his heart.

“Nay,” said Tar Nystrom flipping her long brown hair but only glancing very briefly at Prince Gwaynn.

“Aye.”

“Aye.”

“Nay.”

“The votes are cast. The petition is unrecognized. The Council has spoken,” Ethelridge announced, unable to hide the slight smile that appeared on her face. Gwaynn, in his anger, saw only the delight in her eyes. He stood, suddenly sick of the Hall, sick of the Council of Noble Island.

“It’s politics nothing more,” Monde whispered.

“Please!” Ethelridge called out once more. “There is one additional matter before the Council,” she said and crowd settled down again almost instantly.

“The petition has gone unrecognized…” she began and glanced first at Gwaynn and Zarina Monde and then her gaze moved to a few of the surrounding Tars. “Those issuing the petition are therefore in open rebellion against the High King.”

A great roar swelled in the crowd and Gwaynn’s heart thumped in his chest and his left hand flinched slightly toward the hilt of his kali.

Ethelridge raised her hand asking for quiet. “Peace, Prince Gwaynn Massi. We will not be handing you over to the High King, but your presence will be made known to his Highness and for the time being you will remain, here on Noble, as our honored guest.”

Gwaynn stared at her in shock as several Tars stood and moved close to his position. Zarina Monde made to stand, but Gwaynn placed a hand on her arm holding her still. Ethelridge noticed the movement and nodded and a few more Tars stood and moved toward the Traveler.

“Zarina Monde…I’m afraid you must remain on Noble as well, but you will be here as our prisoner.”

“Tarina Ethelridge!” Kostek shouted loudly, finally in his anger, finding his voice and his path. “You have no authority to make such rash decisions. You are not High Tar.” He yelled and the crowd grew quiet again.

Ethelridge smiled. “Am I not,” she said simply. “The Council is mine…the Tars are mine. The vote that placed you at the head of the Council was flawed following the emotional loss of Tar Amon. That decision will soon be rectified,” she said calmly, confidently. “Your support has waned,” she added then turned back to Gwaynn, who slowly stood.

“Prince Gwaynn…Zarina Monde if you will go with Tar Cowell and Tarina Zabino.”

Gwaynn said nothing but slowly drew his kali as Zabino approached. She paused as he pulled his weapons out and glanced at Ethelridge, whose eyes went wide.

“Prince Gwaynn…” Ethelridge continued, clearly surprised. “Your courage is well documented but please do not force the issue. Tar Kostek’s support of your cause is admirable, but it is not shared by many…”

“I share it,” a familiar voice came from behind Gwaynn. Without turning he knew his friend Vio had stood.

“As do I,” said Tar Endid also standing. He moved slowly past Tar Cowell, and stopped at Gwaynn’s side, a slight smile on his face.

“And I,” said the Tarina’s Grace and Nystrom at the very same time.

“And I” said William. “And I,” said Tam but then those willing to support Gwaynn faltered.

Ethelridge smiled. “Admirable…but I’m afraid….”

A small pop sounded and then a bridge expanded almost directly in front of Gwaynn. The entire hall went quiet again as Lonogan Bock and Zarina Jess na Gall stepped through it and into the Grand Hall.

A gasp of surprise ran through the crowd and the smile that resided on Lonogan’s face disappeared immediately. The tension in the Hall was palpable and the hairs on Bock’s neck stood on end.

“Bad time?” he asked Gwaynn, who nodded without smiling.

“Arrest them…arrest them all,” Ethelridge shouted and even drew her own kali. Gwaynn pulled Lonogan closer, his eyes wide with concentration. They were going to have to flee; he only hoped that Monde would be equal to the task when he managed to slow time. He would be of little help and he doubted na Gall would have much strength after just Traveling from Cassinni.

He saw Tar Endid draw his kali and move to face Tar Cowell who hesitated, but even so, Tarina Zabino inched forward a step, pulling her own kali free. She looked into Gwaynn’s eyes and took another step forward. Three more Tars stood and moved along behind her, clearly coming to her aid. Zabino nodded to them then turned back to Gwaynn.

“Please young prince,” she said quietly. “You have no chance against us all. Your death would be unfortunate.”

Gwaynn’s heart pounded. He knew what she said was the truth. He was skilled, trained by the best, but against a dozen Tars he would not last very long.

“As would yours,” he answered and crouched then he moved forward slightly.  Her eyes widened slightly at his aggressive stance, but then she and the others began to slowly circle around Gwaynn, surrounding him.

“This was not what I had in mind,” Bock quipped nervously, but he drew his own kali and stood back to back with his Prince.

“Please stop this!” Kostek yelled loudly but the Tars surrounding Gwaynn and the Travelers paid him no mind. They continued to circle and advance. Gwaynn was reluctant to strike against Noble and desperately racked his brain for a solution, wanting to avoid a conflict at all costs. But then Zabino tensed and he knew an attack was eminent. He grew calm and waited. Just as the Tarina moved forward to engage Gwaynn another bridge exploded directly in her path. The bridge was powerful and appeared instantly. It was much, much larger than the bridge conjured by na Gall. The force of its expansion created a shock wave that knocked Zabino and the Weapons Masters directly behind her from their feet. They hit the floor of the Hall hard. Zabino’s legs flew up and her robe slipped a little, revealing long, white legs. She struggled to a sitting position and the surprised look on her face turned to shock as Tar Nev and nine other Solitaries stepped into the Grand Hall, their weapons drawn.

The ten new arrivals fanned out and the bridge disappeared with a loud bang, and many in the hall jumped as the sound reverberated off the walls. But no one moved as the Solitaries took up defensive positions around Gwaynn, Bock and the two Travelers.

Tar Cowell and Piros gingerly retreated from the nearest Solitaries, unnerved more by their smiles than their aggressive actions.

“Is there a problem Hyla?” Tar Nev asked Tarina Ethelridge, his face, as always, filled with good humor.

As it turned out, there wasn’t.

ǂ

Captain Tanner waited just inside the tree line of the small grove. He waited with a dozen other horseman and Speaker Wynth, who arrived in the latest group from Light with the High Zarina Monde. Wynth joined the cavalry because he was a much better rider than the large Zebo Sorbello. They also recruited another Speaker, a young woman named Sarbeth, who was currently with a group of scouts shadowing the Temple Knights and reporting their movements back to Manse. Sarbeth was an expert rider and would have made a fine knight herself if that was her only talent, but she was far more valuable as a Speaker. If they lost this fight, it would not be for the want of information. The Speakers and the Travelers were going to give them a distinct advantage in the coming fight. Despite this fact Tanner was nervous. He was nervous even though he believed the strategy being employed by Gwaynn was sound, sound but bold to the point of recklessness. The Captain was sure it was a strategy that Gwaynn’s father would never have considered; he would not have rejected such a strategy because Tanner was sure such a wildly aggressive plan would never have entered his thoughts in the first place. To abandon a highly defensible position seemed…Tanner grunted.

“Sir?” Gaston asked, but Tanner just shook his head and continued to watch the eastern exit to the Scar Gap, the exit that led into Massi. They were waiting for the Rhondono to appear. Prince Phillip and the Toranado abandoned the Gap the previous night before making their way to Manse. They would ultimately be heading up to the Aleria Pass to face the approaching Palmerrio army.

‘They have their work cut out for them,’ Tanner thought. ‘The Palmerrio were already far to the north, but of course they would still have to make their way through the mountains…not easy marching…pass or no.

“You think they’ll come?” Gaston asked, revealing his own doubt. The Rhondono stubbornly remained in the Gap, like a timid mouse afraid to leave its hole.

Captain Tanner nodded. “They’ll come…eventually. If they’re reckless enough to leave the sanctuary of the Gap before the Knights control the lands from here to Cape…well, then we’ll teach them something of respect.”

“If the Knights arrive while we are engaged with the Rhon…”

“The bulk of the Knights are still fifty miles east of Cape,” Tanner interrupted. “You must show faith in our new allies from Light.”

Wynth bowed slightly at the endorsement. “The Knights have split into three groups,” he said his voice rough and deep. “We believe one small group is heading east to scout Cape, while another of maybe a hundred or so horsemen are heading south toward Manse. But the main army is still a fair distance from Cape and poses no danger to our forces at the moment.”

Jeffery Gaston was silent for a moment. He was nervous, on edge, and the fact that an Executioner managed to slip past him caused him to seriously doubt his own judgment. It left him uneasy as he wondered what other little surprises the enemy had in store for them. He was just relieved that Cyndar Huntley would live. She was far too beautiful for such a death; luckily she was a mighty fighter.

“I would still feel better if we were on the move,” Gaston finally said, which made Tanner smile; it grew wider as he caught movement at the mouth of the Scar Gap.

“Perhaps we soon will be,” he said in a low voice and raised his right hand for silence, though the Rhondono were well over a half mile below them. They watched as a small force of enemy soldiers, no more than two thousand men in all and less than a hundred horse, exited the Gap and headed along the north road toward Cape.

“Fools.” Gaston commented even as the enemy horsemen spread out away from the main body to scout for any possible danger hidden in the hilly countryside. A group of perhaps twenty to twenty-five riders headed directly for their grove, but Tanner and the rest did not stay around to be discovered. They moved back among the trees and then out and down the far side of the hill. They rode quickly several miles to the southeast to the main body of Massi cavalry, which now numbered nearly forty-five hundred.

“Contact Zebo and Sarbeth,” he told Wynth curtly and then formed up his men quickly. They were packed in tight formation but even still stretched for nearly a quarter of a mile.

“Captain Gaston, take two hundred men and eliminate the scouts heading our way. We’ll meet you at Bald Knock Hill,” Tanner ordered and the younger man nodded with a grin, happy to be attacking the enemy, happy to be delivering his own surprise.

Bald Knock Hill was a long, high piece of land that ran east and west for nearly seven miles and separated the hilly southern country from the low-lying area near the northern shore. The road to Cape ran directly at the base of the hill for more than three miles before angling toward the north and then continuing on its way to the second largest city in Massi.

While the road hugged the bottom of the hill it was an obvious ambush spot and any army traveling along it would know this and be mindful, including the Rhondono. Which was why Tanner avoided the obvious and instead chose a spot nearly a mile farther east. Here the road veered nearly a half-mile from the crest of the hill. He hoped it would be far enough along that the enemy would begin to relax. Complete surprise from such a distance was not possible; still a half-mile offered little time to prepare against a charge of cavalry. Captain Tanner was counting on generating a great deal of panic and confusion as the enemy attempted to meet his charge.

The main group of Massi cavalry reached their destination after only a short hour-long ride. Captain Gaston joined them some forty minutes later, just as the first of the Rhondono foot soldiers came into view. He pulled his mount up next to his Captain.

“Losses?”

“Three. Blaxley was killed. Turnbrook injured and Colby lost his horse,” Gaston reported matter-of-factly. Turnbrook and Colby are heading back to Manse…double.”

Tanner nodded, pleased despite the loss of Blaxley, who was skilled and well liked. “Take control of the left…follow my lead. Hit their rear hard.”

Jeffery smiled again and rode off.

The Rhondono, despite their caution, were spread out so their lines were just over a quarter of a mile long. A small group of scouting horseman rode the top ridge of Bald Knock hill, but due to the rough terrain they lagged a bit behind the lead elements of the foot soldiers. The Massi charge came just as the Rhondono cavalry spotted Gaston’s position, which was along the very western tip. Tanner and the center force topped the hill and began their descent just as the enemy scouts began to race back to raise the alarm. It was a pointless exercise, for the Rhondono foot soldiers were aware of the Massi cavalry almost instantly.

Tanner aimed his charge at the very center of the column meaning to cut the enemy forces in half while Gaston attacked from the rear and Captain Kerr rounded on those in the lead.

The attack was hard and fast, and though the Rhondono troops were well-seasoned and hard soldiers, they were tired and weakened from fighting the Toranado on their way through the Scar Gap. The charge, even before it reached the enemy line, was just as frightening and demoralizing as Tanner hoped it would be.

He charged down the steeply sloped grassy hill, elated that the enemy appeared to be panicking even before the start of the fight. The lead group of Massi horsemen was only about fifty yards from the Rhondono lines when suddenly Velvet, Tanner’s mare, disappeared from under him.

‘Gopher hole,’ he thought as he flew through the air. He flipped and landed hard on his back, stunned. He rolled over and over as his body made its way down the rest of Bald Knock hill before finally coming to rest. He tried to rise, not fully in control of his senses, when a passing horse kicked him in his head and all went dark.

Even without their Captain, the Massi annihilated the Rhondono soldiers. But the rout of the enemy was not just a matter of surprise and energy level. The Rhondono did not exhibit the skill of the Massi foot soldiers and archers with whom the Massi cavalry practiced. Later, after the battle was over, Captain Gaston was sure that they would have lost a great many more horses and men had they been attacking the lines of David Hahn and his group of formidable archers. But there was another reason why the Massi lost just seventy-five men and a hundred horses…their own skill was growing; they were becoming seasoned. Battle, and the constant need to hone their skills were turning the Massi cavalry into a truly lethal force.

Nearly nine hundred Rhondono died in the attack and of the eleven hundred or so survivors, another two hundred carried such mortal injuries that they were quickly put out of their misery. The remaining nine hundred were stripped of all arms and clothes down to their drawers, then marched ceremoniously back to the Scar Gap. Along the way another fifty or so were killed for rebelliousness before the rest were left to their own devices at the mouth of the Gap. They would make their way back to Eno or not, it was of no real concern for the Massi. The Massi horsemen did not have the means to take prisoners.

Gaston and his men were saddened by the loss of their Captain. Tanner was found with a broken leg and the left side of his skull had been crushed.

“Let Lonogan know of Tanner’s death,” Gaston told the Speaker Wynth, having assumed temporary command. “Inform him that we will be heading back to Manse.” Jeffrey added vaguely. He knew the cavalry were on the plains to engage and distract the enemy, but the Temple Knights, who outnumbered the Massi more than two to one, where a very imposing force and Gaston was not at all confident he should be leading these men against them. One mistake could mean all their deaths and the Knights were known to exploit any weakness or error in judgment. Gaston was only confident about one thing, command did not sound quite so appealing when it was thrust upon you suddenly.

VI

Samantha scrambled into the room she shared with Gwaynn, and whipped out of her clothes like a harlot on a time limit. She quickly pulled on a blue velvet dress Gwaynn gave her while they were in Solarii.

“It was my favorite,” he said as they went through his sister’s things, handing Samantha anything she wanted. Gwynn apparently was just a bit shorter than Samantha with a slightly larger bust, but the clothes were nearly a perfect fit, at least in Samantha’s mind, and the garments she took were much finer than any of the rags she’d worn recently.

She dressed rapidly, only having a bit of trouble with the ties that ran up each side of the waist. When she was finished she checked her look in the small wall mirror, which also belonged to Gwynn at one time. The dress was gorgeous, but her hair was a bit droopy from the humidity, but it would have to do. She was anxious for Gwaynn’s return. She needed him, needed to feel safe once more. The appearance of another Executioner frightened her badly…even more so when Cyndar Huntley informed them that Samantha was the true target. She shivered just thinking about it, and felt horrible about the wounds Cyndar had taken on her behalf. She was jealous of Cyndar, jealous of her beauty, of the way she moved, of her natural sexuality, and now Samantha was afraid Cyndar would no longer be beautiful. The doctor believed her jaw would set with no problem but she would have a scar along the side of her face right at the jaw line. On one hand, Samantha felt awful about the woman’s wounds but delighted that Cyndar’s good looks were now marred. The two conflicting emotions bubbled about in her psyche and caused Samantha to feel slightly nauseated whenever she thought of the beautiful Captain.

She brushed through her hair and checked herself in the mirror one more time. Once she was resigned to the fact that her hair was the best it was going to get, she dropped the brush and bolted out of the room, hiking up her dress to her knees to free her legs to run. She passed several soldiers in the main hall but they just smiled at her without saying a word. By the time she arrived in the courtyard Jess, Lonogan, Monde and Gwaynn had already arrived. Her eyes focused on the latter and she could tell instantly from his expression that all had not gone well on the trip, but then he turned and spotted her coming through the main door and his face broke into a delicious smile. She ran to him, uncaring what the others thought, loving the fact that he was moving toward her as well. When she was close enough she launched herself into his arms, trusting him to catch her, which he did and then spun her around once to bleed off the momentum of her run.

“Welcome home,” she said just a little breathless as he gently placed her back on her feet.

Gwaynn was still smiling. “You look wonderful,” he said, his eyes alight with happiness as they traveled over her attire.

“Why thank you kind sir,” she said and performed a little curtsy, but when she straightened her face became suddenly serious. “It did not go well?”

Gwaynn shook his head. “That’s an understatement. The Cassinni will not come to our aid, and the Tars of Noble Island nearly kept us prisoner until the conflict was over.”

Samantha gapped at him. “Prisoner?”

Gwaynn nodded again. “If not for Tar Nev, I believe they would have succeeded…they would have had to kill me,” he added off handedly.

Samantha shivered against him, and when he looked down at her he could see she was holding back tears.

“What is it?” he asked surprised, for she was rarely weepy. He glanced around but Bock, na Gall and Monde were already moving away, heading down toward Manse.

“There was an…Executioner,” she whispered and Gwaynn felt his stomach knot up with a fear so strong he became terrified it might overwhelm him. The coward he’d been for most of his life seemed to be lurking over his shoulder, and drawing ever closer since he learned Samantha was carrying his child.

“An Exe…”

“Cyndar killed him…she’s badly hurt,” she added in a rush. “Gwaynn…I’m afraid…I’m afraid for our baby.”

Gwaynn was silent for a moment.

‘Cyndar,’ he thought and his heart fell. She was by far the best of his new Captains, most assuredly the toughest fighter in the army aside from Krys and himself. Her loss, on top of the disappointment of the recent trip, threatened to tip Gwaynn over the edge and into despair. But he was torn from his dark thoughts when Krys rode into the courtyard on a large Bay. He spotted Gwaynn and cantered toward him pulling up the horse at the very last minute.

“Good to see you,” Krys greeted Gwaynn with a frazzled look. “The Gap is clear. Wynth reports the Rhondono have been defeated on their march to Cape.”

Gwaynn smiled. “Good…we needed some good news.”

Krys frowned. “Tanner was killed. His horse broke a leg in the charge and he was trampled. I’m sorry.”

Samantha gasped but Gwaynn was silent for a moment, breathing rapidly from this new blow. He was quickly running out of Captains…and options.

“Gaston is currently leading the cavalry. They are heading back to Manse.”

“No!” Gwaynn said quickly and much louder than he intended. “They must continue to engage and occupy the enemy. The Knights must have no reason to march on Manse. You know it will fall if they do, and if Manse falls…so does Massi. Tell Gaston he’s Captain of the cavalry now…that he must decide how and when they will fight the enemy…but fight them he must.”

Gwaynn and Krys looked at each other without saying anything, but both knew that things were going badly. They would need a miracle to survive attacks from so many directions, from so many enemies.

Krys took a deep breath. “The Deutzani have crossed the border. They are marching on Lynndon.”

Gwaynn sighed and rubbed his forehead, then closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to marshal his thoughts. Such a move was not unexpected, though secretly Gwaynn hoped the Deutzani had lost heart and would remain out of the coming battle. Finally he opened his eyes.

“Inform Captain Marcum that he’s alone and that he must hold,” Gwaynn said. “We can’t afford to send anymore men to Lynndon.”

Krys nodded, well aware that they were stretched very thin. With Tanner dead and the bulk of the cavalry on the plains and the main army moving south to engage the Palmerrio at the Aleria Pass, they had few reserves. Captain Vosser would be leading the defenses of Manse with little more than a hundred true soldiers, the remaining five thousand were made up mostly of old men and women. It was hoped that with the new defensive lines, all Vosser would have to do was give the impression that part of the Massi army was hold up behind the new battlements. It was a risk, but the civilians of the city would do their best to look formidable and discourage the Temple Knights from attacking the city. They all knew that if they failed and the Knights attacked, the cities defenses would fold up like a house of cards and all would be lost.

The only other force they had available was under Captain Kommidi, who was leading fifteen hundred cavalry up on the Plateau. They were green and untested, and were primarily charged with guarding the Scar itself. Captain Hahn suggested watch towers be placed all along the Scar, keeping an eye on the natural boundary in case any army decided to climb the cliff face to gain access to the Plateau. The watch towers…though there were few actual towers, were positioned three miles apart and manned with only three men each, not enough to pose any threat to an ascending army but enough to light the signal fires and call the cavalry under Kommidi.

“Tell Bock to hold off on his plans to leave and join the army for now,” Gwaynn said shaking his head. They must continue to fight…in the end they would win or lose and that was all there was to it. “I may send you to Lynndon,” he added looking at his Weapons Master. “But I’d like to know what Lonogan thinks.”

Krys nodded then signaled for a messenger. “We must defeat the Palmerrio…if they have the run of the Plateau…if we lose the battle in the south.”

“I know…I know…” Gwaynn snapped, then immediately put his hand on Krys’ shoulder in apology. “I need to kill someone,” he whispered with a shake of his head. “I need to fight.”

“Let’s go,” Samantha said quickly, though for the first time she was afraid, afraid for her baby and afraid for herself.

“I’m ready,” Krys agreed.

Gwaynn smiled. “Give me twenty minutes. Have Bock meet me in the hall,” he said then reached out and took Samantha’s hand. “Come let’s go see Cyndar.”

ǂ

They sat on horseback just out of arrow range and watched as the first assault of the afternoon collapsed under a hail of arrows and boulders from the Massi defenders above.

Ja Brude waited anxiously next to Arden, the young Deutzani King, without commenting on the events taking place before them. Ja was nervous. A spot on his back, directly between his shoulder blades, itched and twitched without reason and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to turn and glance behind him. He did not like being back in Massi. It felt like death, and deep in his brain a nagging notion kept bubbling up to the surface, the thought that this was all another trap and once again the Deutzani army had unwittingly walked directly into it.

‘Ah, but that is not correct,’ he thought. ‘We did expect a trap in Manse…but Arsinol, bold and confident, had entered anyway…well Arsinol was no longer bold and the fool robbed me of most of my confidence.’

“We’ll get started on the shield houses tonight,” Captain Bodwin said sounding extremely confident as he watched the first of his retreating soldiers pass by their position. Of course the Captain was with Arden, sitting safely in Solarii during the battle of Manse so still had the luxury of confidence.

Brude lost his mental fight and glanced briefly behind him. The town of Lynndon, what was left of it, was still smoldering, most of it nothing but black ash blowing in the wind. The destruction was not the doing of the Deutzani. The town had nearly burned itself out by the time the lead elements of their army arrived. The citizens of the town, having destroyed their own homes, had undoubtedly moved up to the relative safety of the Plateau.

The burning of Lynndon bothered Brude; to him it was a clear sign of hope in the people of Massi. A few years ago they meekly accepted defeat and occupation, but now the ruins of the town virtually smoldered with palpable defiance. He did not like the thought of having an entire country bent on his destruction. Fortunately, Brude knew that most of the fighting people of Massi were occupied with the presence of the Temple Knights, and soon they would be even more distracted by the arrival of the Palmerrio and Rhondono.

“How long before we have enough shield houses to try again?” Arden asked, his voice betraying a bit of the nervousness Brude was feeling. The older advisor felt comforted by this show of caution from his young King.

‘It is good to feel caution during war, when nothing is certain,” Ja Brude thought as he glanced about once more. There was very little readily available wood left in the town of Lynndon. Shield houses, which were aptly named, were just that, small “A” frame structures which looked like houses but were in fact shields to guard groups of men from the missiles that would be raining down on them. Carried by and protecting four men, the shield houses contained four corner posts that dropped nearly to the ground and were anchored by two cross pieces with which the men carried the house. In all, the house weighed about one hundred and fifty pounds, heavy but not overwhelming for four strong men, but hauling it up the steep inclines of the Scar was not something to be envied. Still Brude thought it might be a touch better than being arrow shot or having your skull crushed by small boulders.

“We’ll need to send a party of men back to the town of Derbyville,” Captain Bodwin began. “It’s the closest wood sou….”

A soft thump interrupted his explanation and he fell from his horse. By the time Ja Brude tracked his movement and looked down, blood was pouring from the arrow wound in the Captain’s neck. The shaft nearly passed completely through the outer third of the man’s throat and the feathers were already matted and sticky with blood. Bodwin’s eyes were wide with fright as his fingers fought to stem the flood. Neither Brude nor King Arden climbed from their horses to help, instead both quickly moved away from the Scar. The exhausted soldiers who were retreating on foot around them, quickly found new energy and ran alongside their King. Brude was dimly aware of jeering coming from up on the Plateau and wondered what kind of a man could have shot an arrow such a distance. It seemed impossible…and to have hit someone, even more so.

They pulled to a stop after traveling maybe fifty yards and turned back to see Bodwin trying to follow. He somehow managed to climb to his feet and apparently pulled the arrow from his neck, for it was gone. He shuffled slowly toward them, right hand bloody and pressing to the wound, and as the last of the retreating soldiers pulled even with him a large beefy Sergeant hoisted the Captain up by one arm and helped him to safety. Brude couldn’t help but wonder why…the Captain was a dead man, anyone could see that. But as the two passed his position, Captain Bodwin was still alive.

“Take him to the hospital tent,” Arden said, trying for the world to sound strong and brave despite his recent scare. He turned back to Ja Brude.

“Find Captain Tillis…we need those shield houses,” the King said. “The sooner we are on the Plateau the better.”

Brude found himself agreeing wholeheartedly.

ǂ

Cyn de Baard was sitting up in her cot, her wounded shoulder was beginning to feel better but the pain in her jaw was still considerable despite the willow bark tea she was drinking by the pitcher. She looked up as Gwaynn entered the tent and her heart betrayed her and began the drumbeat of love in her chest despite her new resolve to leave him and hunt the High Tar of Sinis…she would have to heal in any case. Without thinking or realizing it, she began to smile, but a sharp pain quickly caused her to wince instead. She winced mentally as she caught sight of Samantha following along behind her one and only love.

Cyndar watched as Gwaynn approached, his eyes stayed on hers, never leaving, never straying.

“I am in your debt,” he said, placing a hand gently on her uninjured shoulder then he leaned over and touched his lips to her forehead.

“Krys tells me the Executioner’s intended target was Samantha,” Gwaynn continued.

Cyndar nodded, her eyes tracking to the bitch just behind him only for a moment. She found if she looked any longer, anger began to well up within.

“Thank you Cyndar,” Samantha said without approaching closer. She actually felt sorry and grateful for the woman propped up before her. Cyndar was sitting in a plain white shift, her left arm was held in a sling and her shoulder was wrapped tight with bandages. Samantha could also see additional bandages wrapped around her chest just below the open collar of the shift, but it was Cyndar’s face that caused Samantha the strongest feelings of guilt. Cyndar’s appearance had caused such jealousy in Samantha but now her entire face was covered with either bandages or wounds. The bandages wrapped tightly around her chin and over the top of her head, before coming down around her chin once more. They were wrapped at least a half dozen times holding Cyndar’s injured jaw securely in place. The bandages hid most of her face, but her nose was visible and looked to be broken and there were still dark rings around both of her eyes. The woman before her seemed smaller, less intimidating and Samantha wondered if she regretted taking such hideous injuries for the sake of another person.

“How are you eating?” Samantha finally asked, and even stepped a bit closer. Cyndar looked a bit thin now that she got a good look at her.

Cyndar tried not to glare at the girl before her, not wanting her hatred to appear in her eyes. ‘I’m going to gut you like a fish,’ she thought blandly.

“We remove her bandages, but for the next week or so she will be on a liquid diet,” Doctor Linkler explained from behind them as he entered the tent. “We want to keep her jaw movement to a minimum.”

Cyndar sighed. She didn’t like Linkler at all.

“How soon until she’s up to speed?” Gwaynn asked and Cyndar was gratified that his eyes never left hers.

“The pain in her jaw should subside relatively quickly,” the doctor explained. “And she should be eating soft food again next week, but it will be close to a month before her jaw is anywhere near normal. Even then, she will have to be careful because it will be much easier to dislocate again in the future. Her cuts, while serious, pose no real danger, but the stab wound in the shoulder could cause her to lose some of her mobility in that arm…I’d say three months in all before she can return to the fighting.”

‘Three months!’ Gwaynn and Cyndar thought in unison.

“hmmmphhhh,” Cyndar mumbled, shaking her head to show she disagreed with the assessment.

Gwaynn smiled at Cyndar’s obvious rebellion. “We’ll be heading out onto the Plateau soon,” he told her and gave her good shoulder a soft squeeze. His touch was warm, almost intimate, all the more so because the bitch was present and Cyndar found she still craved the feel of his hands on her. “I’ll need you to help Captain Vosser keep an eye out for the Temple Knights…Zebo will be staying behind if anything deve…”

“Aaaaahhh,” Samantha exclaimed, flinching and reaching for her midsection.

Cyndar felt Gwaynn’s eyes ripped from hers as he looked worriedly toward the red-haired whore.

“Are you all righ…”

“I’m fine,” Samantha interrupted. “I think I just felt the baby move…there it is again,” she added happily. She grabbed Gwaynn’s hand off Cyndar’s shoulder and placed in neatly on her belly. Cyndar glared at her, the Black Horseman looking out from her eyes.

Gwaynn stood very still, not even daring to breathe, but after several moments still felt nothing.

“May I?” Doctor Linkler asked and then placed a flat palm on Samantha’s midsection. “Is this the first time you’ve felt the baby?”

Samantha nodded.

Linkler smiled as Cyndar glowered, but nobody was paying much attention to her at the moment. “You’ll be coming up on the half way point in your term in a few weeks then,” he said and Samantha looked at Gwaynn in wonder…and then suddenly, fear.

‘What if something happens to me?’ The thought came to her unbidden and unwanted. She was going to fight…nothing would stop her from going with her archers. She’d spent too much time preparing to be left behind now.

“It’ll be alright,” Gwaynn said, reading her feelings well, but inside he was just as worried, just as fearful. Before anything more could be said on the matter Krys barged into the tent, followed by Emm, who caught sight of Cyndar and frowned.

“The Toranado have arrived,” Krys said a little breathless.

Gwaynn looked up but did not react to the news. “Good, tell Prince Phillip to make camp for the night. We will continue the march south to the Aleria Pass come morning.”

Krys smiled, he was growing tired of sitting about and was ready for action. It was time to teach the Palmerrio a little about caution.

ǂ

Captain Hothgaard rode at the very head of the column, leading nearly twenty-five hundred Temple Knights on a reconnaissance mission to Manse. The column stretched nearly a mile, as if inviting attack, which was exactly the case. The Massi cavalry were out and on the loose. Word of the Rhondono defeat reached Hothgaard the previous morning. He promptly sent a force of fifteen hundred Knights under the conservative and reliable Captain Tramm in a sweep of the lands west of Cape. He doubted the Massi were still in the area of the battle, but he wanted to be sure, and he wanted to keep the west free of opposition. He imagined the Massi horsemen were already retreating to the safety of Manse and the Scar, but in the hopes of forcing the issue, he gathered a second force and decided to lead it himself toward the base city of the Massi. If for some reason the Massi cavalry lingered on the plains in the west they would find themselves trapped between two forces. And then they would have to fight their way through the Knights in order to gain the safety of the Plateau. Hothgaard doubted the Massi would be caught so easily, after all they’d come back to defeat the Deutzani and the attack on the Rhondono showed that at least someone understood when a potential gain outweighed the risk of defeat. The loss of the Rhondono foot soldiers was a blow, but not a fatal one for Hothgaard and the Knights. They were only a supplemental force to aid in the siege of Cape, but Hothgaard had no real intention of attacking the port city.

The day warmed nicely throughout the afternoon and despite the clouds building menacingly in the south, the afternoon remained quite pleasant. The Captain just hoped any bad weather would hold off at least until they made camp.

As he rode, Hothgaard noticed that a few leaves were beginning to change and wondered if this war would be over before the leaves finally dropped. He hoped so. Hothgaard glanced about the countryside, growing impatient. He spurred his mount into a trot suddenly very interested in seeing Manse for himself. His scouts informed him that the defenses were formidable. Hothgaard shrugged, once the Palmerrio crossed over the Scar Mountains and onto the Plateau, the Massi would either have to fight or be trapped within the folly of their own defenses.

After an hour they were within ten miles of the city, and the smell of rain hung in the air. It wasn’t long before the low gray clouds turned nearly black and the rains opened up, effectively blinding them for any distance.

Hothgaard frowned, drenched almost immediately. “Let’s tighten up,” he told his Sergeant. “If the Massi are indeed out and waiting, this would be the time.”

He was correct; at that very moment Captain Gaston waited with just over nineteen hundred horsemen in a shallow gully to the east of the advancing column of Knights. Gaston was nervous, but when the rains came he did not hesitate. He immediately sounded the order to attack and was the first to move up and out of the gully. He spurred his horse hard, charging toward the enemy, his blood already rushing through his veins faster than his horse could gallop.

The Massi charge crashed into the Knight’s line, cutting completely through the last quarter of the enemy and at nearly the same time another force of nearly five hundred horsemen attacked from the rear. The maneuver was masterful, designed to isolate and destroy a large section of an enemy force. With luck the strategy would confuse and scatter the remainder, but the Knights were not easily rattled and without even a word from Captain Hothgaard, the center of the formation rolled to the west away from the main attack and then circled about to reinforce the trailing sections. At the same time the lead column of the Knights galloped forward and then circled back to the east, intent on surrounding and crushing the foolish enemy force. It was a classic attack, counter attack scenario and within moments Gaston and the rest of the Massi cavalry went from aggressor to defenders.

“Hold fast!” Gaston yelled loudly, still moving fast. He lost control of his lance when it plunged through the back of a Knight who was engaged with another of his men. He glanced about in the rain, desperate to make out the position of the main section of the enemy. At first he could see nothing, and was distracted as another Knight charged his direction. He kicked his horse into motion in order to meet the threat with force. They passed one another with a clang of steel on steel, Gaston moving farther out into a nearby field. It was then that he spotted a force circling about from the north, pounding through the mud and rain in perfect formation. He watched, mesmerized for a moment until he recognized the column as another group of Temple Knights. His heart sank as he looked wildly about for more Massi horsemen. His search was short-lived as a spear point glanced off his left side, slicing into his rib cage. The force of the blow nearly threw him from the saddle, but somehow he managed to stay mounted. He righted himself, not even feeling the pain of his wound. He parried another attack from the Knight who seemed bent on killing him, but even as he fought Gaston continued to mark the progress of the company of Knights riding hard his way. He swiftly turned and with his left kali removed the head of the lance which aimed at his heart. The Knight engaging him yelled in frustration and drew his sword. He slammed his well-trained mount into Gaston’s horse pushing the animal back and the Massi Captain was forced to use all of his concentration on the fight at hand. As he fought Gaston’s strength and speed began to take their toll on the shocked Knight, keeping the man on the defensive. The Knight retreated from a flurry of hard well timed blows; finally after several long minutes of fighting, Gaston managed to relieve the Knight of his right hand and when he screamed the Captain sliced through the man’s neck. But even as the man fell to the ground, Gaston could sense the enemy approaching his rear and he knew that if the Knights were allowed to circle around his position, all would be lost.

ǂ

The night before they were to leave for the Aleria Pass to meet the Palmerrio was a late one, full of planning, full of contingencies, full of “what ifs.” But now the meetings were over and Lonogan sat on his bed alone in his room in the western bailey. As usual he’d left the planning to Gwaynn and the others. He knew his own strengths and weaknesses. He was a logistics general…good at his job because he knew how to get things done but planning and strategy would never be his strong point. So he let Gwaynn and Hahn provide the plan and he would see it carried out.

It was very late; he should sleep. Tomorrow would be a long hard day of riding across the open Plateau, but he was still too energized and despite the numerous threats closing in on them, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from returning to na Gall. Since their return from Cassinni, thoughts of the Traveler were consuming him. He tried various methods to banish her from his head, but his mind was being completely insubordinate.  Images of Jess kept returning and playing themselves out in a seemingly endless loop of fantasy. Finally, now that he was completely alone, Lonogan surrendered his thoughts to her with relish. He wondered if she was having her fantasies about their kiss or if she was already soundly sleeping next door…no, not next door. He had to remind himself again and again that she was staying down below in Manse at Taylor’s brand new hotel. She was not close…not right across the hall as she’d been in Parma. It was a sad, sobering thought.

His mind relived their kisses once again and he sighed, shaking his head in disgust. A general should have more discipline over his body and his mind. He stood and went to the water basin and splashed a bit on his face. He should sleep. They would be preparing to ride in a little over six hours. Hell, they were going to war and he would need all his wits about him, but he didn’t return to his bed, instead he held his wet hands over the candle flame enjoying the warmth as the heat evaporated the water left behind. When his hands were dry he blew out the candle, determined to get some rest but as he turned he felt a small disturbance in the air and suddenly she was there before him, floating like an apparition in the darkness. His eyes were not yet fully adjusted to the dark and he could not see her well, but her wonderfully familiar scent filled the room.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said very softly and Lonogan’s heart soared. Taking a Traveler as a lover definitely had its advantages.

“Nor I,” Lonogan whispered back and quick as a flash she shrugged and let the cloak she was wearing fall from her shoulders. She was wearing nothing else. Lonogan breath caught in his throat and he stood completely still, enthralled, straining to see in the darkness.

She moved toward him. He wanted to see her and briefly considered turning back and to the candle, but then she was next to him and he could feel the warmth coming off of her skin in waves.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she whispered, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath as she spoke. “If something were to happen…”

Lonogan finally moved and reached out, touching her shoulders first. His hands moved down her arms and then found her waist. It was small, nearly small enough for his fingers to circle and touch at her back. And then her arms went around his neck and they embaced tightly and he was lost in the feel of her. She smelled amazing and her skin was so smooth and warm and oh so soft to the touch.

“I’m glad you came,” he whispered and then they were kissing in earnest. Lonogan was dimly aware of her pulling at his clothes as they kissed, but how he rid himself of them was a complete mystery. When he was finally nude they stood, pressing hard against one another then somehow…as if by magic, they made their way back to his bed and dropped as one onto it. They never broke contact and never spoke, they just kissed and explored until the heat of their passion became too much then he was on her…in her.

Three times their passion rose to a swell and was sated, before mercifully they fell asleep in each other’s arms, both gloriously happy and content. They slept for just a little over two hours before a knock, startlingly loud in the quiet of the morning, woke them.

They came instantly awake and as the memory of the previous night returned, they smiled.

“General,” a voice sounded from the far side of the door and Jess jumped to cover herself, giggling as she fought with the blanket which was knotted around their bare legs.

“One moment,” Lonogan answered, grinning in the dim morning light then he jumped naked from the bed and looked about for his pants.

Jess giggled again.

“My pants,” he whispered to her and she pointed to the far side of the room. He retrieved them quickly but had a bit of trouble sliding in to them and had to hop twice for balance. Jess laughed again, as he picked his shirt off the floor.

“Funny eh?” He asked and smoothly ripped the covers from the bed so she lay surprised and naked, scrambling once again to cover herself.

“Lonogan!” she shouted in a whisper and it was his turn to laugh. He stared at her perfect body for a moment, then tossed her the covers and tucked in his shirt. She spread it over her and pulled it up to her chin as he went to the door.

“Sergeant Hoxley,” he said in greeting, pulling the door only partly open.

“Sir, the Toranado are mustering…we leave in an hour,” Hoxley answered spotting the cloak on the floor. He moved his head slightly to see farther into the room but Lonogan slyly moved to block his view.

“Very well Sergeant. I’ll be with you momentarily,” Lonogan said and quickly closed the door.

Jess was immediately up and out of the bed moving toward the cloak, but he reached out and stopped her, holding her still as he gazed down at her pale, flawless body.

“I want to remember this,” he added, his breath quickening as his eyes darted over her body, from the long lines of her legs, to her breasts with pale pink nipples, then down to her soft belly and beyond.

“You’re absolutely stunning,” he finally managed to whisper.

“I’m absolutely freezing despite the warmth of your eyes…now let me dress,” she said briskly, though she was well pleased. She quickly slipped into the cloak, kissed him and closed her eyes and then using one hand to hold the cloak on she began weaving the other about until a bridge was formed. She kissed him again, then stepped through to her own room and was gone, leaving behind only the scent of her body and their passion.

ǂ

Gwaynn and Samantha traveled south with Prince Phillip and the Toranado heavy infantry and reached the eastern edge of the Aleria Pass four long days after leaving Manse. Lonogan Bock, who quickly grew impatient with the plodding foot soldiers, rode ahead with the Traveler Jess na Gall to join with the Massi army already positioned near the pass.

For Gwaynn, finally joining the main army was something of a relief, but did little for his peace of mind. It was a very long trip across the Plateau; they were never underway early enough in the mornings; they never moved fast enough during the day and they always stopped way too early. He could understand his general’s impatience and would have joined him but not at the risk of insulting their Toranado allies. They needed these hard, tough soldiers…every one of them.

For the past few nights just before sunset he and Zarina Monde took turns projecting over the Scar Mountains to check on the progress of the Palmerrio, who also seemed to be moving slowly. Somehow it added to Gwaynn’s feelings of unease.

“You must focus on the coming battle,” Tabernas said to Gwaynn one evening as he sat apart from the others, mired in worry. The Toranado Weapons Master had great respect for the young Massi King and was well aware of the immense amount of pressure the young man felt, but he also knew that Gwaynn could do little for the people in Lynndon or Manse or for the Massi cavalry out on the plains. Albas thought that their battle plan was a good one under the circumstances and now they would have to just be patient and wait for the outcome. Patience, however, was not something easily practiced by the young, and Gwaynn was no exception.

Gwaynn smiled at the older man, feeling a wave of affection for him, and missing his old mentor Afton Sath with a pang of regret.

“My mind is a mess right now, flying from battle to battle. If I could only figure out how to be in more than one place at a time,” Gwaynn replied.

Tabernas chuckled and sat down on a stump of a log. He checked the darkening sky with a touch of disgust. There was a good chance they would get rain before morning and the Weapons Master hated to be wet. “The man can Travel and fight like a demon…but it’s never enough is it?”

“Never,” Gwaynn answered, refraining from mentioning his abilities with time. It was one secret he kept very close, even though he trusted the Toranado Weapons Master implicitly.  He glanced up to see Lonogan Bock and na Gall strolling toward him with Samantha at their side and felt another wave of panic. Bock and na Gall seemed to have grown very close since their trip to Cassinni, though whether or not they were lovers still seemed to be an open question. He hoped they were; he guessed they were; war had a way of pushing a warrior’s emotions to the very skin…fear was obviously the most common emotion and loss, but sometimes hate and anger, as well as feelings of comradeship…and apparently love.

Samantha moved quickly to Gwaynn’s side and sat down. She took his hand in hers and he felt his heart sink with worry. Bock and na Gall took up places directly across the small fire from Gwaynn. He noticed that though they sat close together, they were not actually touching. He glanced at his General who looked back but a smile did not come to his face.

“Captain Marcum believes the Deutzani will attack again come morning,” na Gall said to no one in particular and with only a cursory glance at Gwaynn. She hated to add to his list of worries. “Their preparations are almost complete.”

“Will the Massi hold?” Tabernas asked and stood as Prince Phillip approached.

“Marcum believes they will,” Bock answered and Gwaynn could tell that he was also feeling a vast amount of pressure.

“Lynndon must hold,” Gwaynn said softly. “We have to hold the Plateau and we have to drive the Palmerrio back as quickly as we can…one battle…we must defeat them in one battle.”

No one commented for a moment, but they all knew that if the fight with the Palmerrio became a protracted affair it would bode ill for them all.

ǂ

The boulder teetered on the edge for a moment and then tipped over the Scar. Dropping straight and true, it slammed into the second shield house that was making its way up narrow path which hugged the steep cliff face. The house immediately shattered into a million tiny splinters and a bright gout of blood squirted out from beneath it, like paint thrown from a bucket; the stone then pinballed its way down the Scar and into the river below, taking most of the house and the four enemy soldiers with it. The men on the Plateau cheered wildly, ignoring the dark red smear on the path below. Up to this point most of the boulders they’d rolled over the side were either too small to do significant damage, bouncing harmlessly away from the steeply pitched roofs of the shield houses, or else they missed their mark entirely and fell uselessly into the river. The destruction of one house however, did little to slow the Deutzani’s progress up the rock face.

Captain Marcum watched the Deutzani advance with foreboding, as his men began the job of moving another large rock to the very edge of the Scar. He glanced at the nearby pile of stones; he could see maybe a dozen large enough to bring down another shield house, but a quick count showed that the Deutzani had at least a hundred more such structures moving up from what was left of Lynndon and toward the steep winding track.

The Deutzani forces had as yet only advanced about half way up the trail leading to the Plateau and to this point the shield houses were proving to be a challenge for the Massi defenders. Even from this distance, the lead house was already perforated with over a dozen flaming arrows, most of which had gone out without doing much damage, a few were still alight, but the houses were covered with thick cowhide to discourage the flames. The shield houses would have to approach much closer before Marcum would dare use his supply of oil. It was his hope that if he could oil the first few houses and then set them alight it might slow the Deutzani advance considerably.

Marcum watched as a smaller boulder, perhaps twice the size of a man’s head was pushed over the side. He followed its progress over the cliff face until it slammed into the house third from the front. The house shifted and came to a shuddering stop when the rock struck the pitched roof. The rock then bounced off the roof and into the cliff face before rebounding and striking the house again. The house stayed motionless for a long moment before getting underway up the path once again.

“Should we use the oil?” Sergeant Birdsong asked.

“Not yet,” Marcum answered, still staring at the advancing enemy below. “Chances are it’d just run down the sides of the Scar and be useless.”

“But the boulders aren’t working,” Birdsong complained, clearly panicked. The Deutzani, at around twelve thousand men, outnumbered them nearly six to one and the Sergeant feared that if they reached the summit of the Scar they would make quick work of the Massi defenders, who were mostly lightly armored archers.

“The oil can wait,” Marcum said simply as another small boulder missed its target.

Birdsong said nothing more, frowning as a few more arrows burrowed into the lead house while another skipped off the roof and into the river below. “Should we summon Kommidi?”

This time Marcum looked over at the young Sergeant. “Relax…the oil will hold them…at least for a good while. Kommidi will be well west and in a position to support the King against the Palmerrio.”

Birdsong took a deep breath as another mid-sized stone struck a house which rocked a bit then tipped alarmingly. For a moment the Sergeant watched the men beneath struggle to hold the house upright. They failed and the house pitched over the side taking one of the soldiers with it. The man screamed comically on his way down but then he plunged into the river and was lost from view. Another was quickly shot through the neck by a well aimed arrow and he staggered off the Scar to follow his countryman into the rushing water below. The two remaining soldiers tried to find cover beneath neighboring houses. One was lucky and scrambled into a house in time and was safe for the moment, the other was stopped, partially exposed and took an arrow in the right calf. The man cried out and dropped, clutching at his wound before taking another in the chest. The train of houses paused for a moment, then the dead man was dumped over the side of the Scar and the slow progression continued on its way.

Another boulder, larger this time, went over the side, but it unluckily struck the side of the Scar with a sharp clap and was deflected away from the house beneath it.

“Bring up the oil,” Marcum said a half an hour later. Four more houses succumbed to boulders but the majority of them were still moving relentlessly to the top of the Scar. The lead house was now three quarters of the way to the summit. “Go and make sure the halberdiers are ready. They must meet the attack at the very edge of the Scar. We can’t afford to give them a foothold.”

The oil, dropped in clay pots, soon covered the first dozen shield houses and flaming arrows easily setting the roofs ablaze. The men beneath, understanding the danger, began to move quickly up the trail as the fire rapidly spread. Marcum was impressed. The approaching soldiers must be tired from lugging the “A” frames up the steep path, but they found new energy and ambled up the Scar at a surprisingly quick pace; but the fire moved quickly as well and the soldiers in the lead house were forced to heave it over the cliff and away when they were still fifty feet from the top. Without hesitation they charged up the path as the next five houses were also dumped over the side. A score of men made it to within ten feet of the top before the last of them was killed by arrows but by then another score were racing up and the closest shield house was now only thirty feet from the top.

Another barrage of oil was thrown over the edge of the Scar and fire arrows had another half dozen shield houses alight by the time the first of the Deutzani soldiers reached the very top of the Scar. The brave enemy soldiers were almost immediately killed by a host of archers, but their success diverted the attention of many of the defenders and it allowed many of the men below to climb higher relatively unimpeded. In the next few minutes, more and more Deutzani scrambled to the top, a number of the enemy were also archers, who began firing arrows back at the defenders while more Deutzani moved up to engage the closest Massi soldiers. The Massi hold on the edge of the Plateau was quickly slipping away. There were perhaps fifty enemy soldiers on the top of the Scar when Marcum signaled to Sergeant Birdsong.

“Advance!” he yelled and then turned to the fifty or so heavy foot soldiers that surrounded him. “Let’s move,” he said rather softly and as one they rushed to attack the enemy that now threatened to occupy their Plateau.

Fighting as he was, Captain Marcum was completely unaware of the battle for the Scar trail. The majority of the Massi men and women on the edge of the Plateau continued to drop boulders large and small on the advancing shield houses. When the enemy was close enough they would dump more casts of oil down onto them and then set them alight with fire arrows. But as more and more Deutzani gained the summit of the Scar and engaged the defenders above, the attack on the Deutzani still climbing began to falter.

Marcum fought and killed as well as he was able. Over the years he’d lost a bit of his speed with age but retained much of his strength, which was substantial. And all the while he tried to keep track of the battle around him, trying to judge the strength of the defense. After nearly an hour the Deutzani attack seemed to slacken, until finally it fell off all together. By the time Marcum reached the edge of the Scar he could see the remainder of the Deutzani army was in quick retreat. Sporadic arrow fire rained down on them, and an occasional rock, but for the most part the defenders on the edge of the Plateau just rested and breathed thanks that they had survived.

Sergeant Birdsong took a superficial arrow wound to the right cheek, but otherwise he was unharmed when he finally reached Captain Marcum.

He was smiling as he approached his commander.

“Full retreat,” he said happily. “And they only have a dozen or so shield houses.”

“They’ll be back,” Marcum said somberly. “Tomorrow…or if we’re very unlucky…tonight. How many did we lose?”

After a bit of checking it was discovered that they lost just over a hundred men, most of them halberdiers and foot soldiers. The Deutzani dead numbered nearly three hundred and fifty on the Plateau and it was estimated another fifty or so had lost their lives during their climb. It was a victory, but a costly one. Their supply of oil was nearly depleted and they had fewer than a dozen boulders of any size remaining.

“Get the town folk to work finding more rocks,” Marcum ordered as he gazed out and down at the Deutzani camp far below. “And find Lyle…see if he knows of any other oil…or anything flammable we might use against the bastards.”

‘If they come tonight…they’ll have us. Let’s hope they wait for more shield houses,’ Marcum thought, but he knew that if the Deutzani persisted they would eventually overwhelm the defenders. He’d lost a hundred of his toughest fighting men and he was running low on heavy soldiers. The archers, though vital, would not be able to hold the Plateau by themselves. He considered contacting General Bock, but dismissed the idea…thinking instead of Gaston…now Captain Gaston. Marcum knew the young cavalry man was ordered to harass the Temple Knights and support Manse, but Marcum needed him. If Gaston could somehow hit the Deutzani from below as they were engaged in attacking the Plateau…Marcum shook away the thought, but it returned and nagged at his brain.

‘Perhaps we’ll just see if Gaston happens to be nearby,’ he thought then turned to Birdsong.

“Find Speaker Torres,” was all he said.

VII

As it happened, Captain Gaston and the Massi cavalry were just over fifty miles to the east of Manse trying to regroup after the recent attack on the Temple Knights which quickly turned into a fiasco. Most of the Massi horsemen, Gaston included, counted themselves lucky that the entire force was not completely wiped out. The Knights were good, there was no doubt about that and they’d proved it by killing or capturing nearly ten percent of Gaston’s force…and that was during a supposedly surprise attack.

In all they lost nearly two hundred men during the engagement, with another seventy-five suffering wounds serious enough to keep them out of the fighting for a while, but more importantly they lost over two hundred and fifty horses. Neither men nor horses could be replaced easily, and Gaston was gathering his courage before contacting Gwaynn to inform him of the defeat.

In the immediate aftermath of battle, after rejoining with the main contingent of Massi cavalry, Gaston decided to keep moving east. His greatest fear was that the Temple Knights would follow and capitalize on their obvious advantage, but after nearly a day and a half of hard riding they’d encountered no more of the enemy, a fact that left Gaston feeling very thankful.

“We’ve done damage to the Knights as well,” Captain Kerr said as they sat in the command tent. Kerr, who sat near the back of the tent, remained silent for so long that Gaston forgot he was present.

Gaston blinked and looked to his second in command. “Does the worry show?”

Kerr smiled, liking the younger man. “Yes, and you are wise not to let the men see you so,” he answered. “You must contact Gwaynn and General Bock…inform them of the situation.”

Gaston nodded but did not answer. They both looked up as Speaker Sarbeth entered the tent as if on cue. Gaston’s heart began to pound in his chest the moment he saw her, expecting to be told of contact by the King, but Sarbeth remained quiet, standing stiffly just inside the tent flap. The female Speaker was young, athletic and had such a strong, square jaw that it was the envy of many of the men who rode with her. Her dirty blonde hair was cut shoulder length and pulled back away from her face and as she waited Gaston thought wildly that she would have made a fine looking man. Politeness however, kept him from revealing his opinion to her, though surprisingly she would have been happy to hear it.

Gaston’s heart began to slow when the woman didn’t speak up immediately, but then Sarbeth surprised him.

“Speaker Torres has called to us, Captain Marcum wishes to speak with you,” she said in a soft, feminine voice which did not match her appearance.

Gaston frowned and glanced at Captain Kerr, who shrugged, also puzzled.

“Proceed,” Gaston told the Speaker and at once Sarbeth closed her eyes and began to weave her hands about in front of her. Gaston couldn’t help but notice that her hands were large and rough looking.

‘She would make a fine warrior,’ he thought, but then quickly amended it. ‘She was a fine warrior.’

It took several long minutes before a small distortion coalesced in the air directly before her. When, at last, her hands dropped, she opened her eyes and spoke clearly. “Speaker Torres…Captain Gaston is present.”

“Captain,” Gaston heard the voice of Captain Marcum, his old friend and mentor, “we need immediate assistance or Lynndon will fall. Where are you located?”

Gaston frowned again. “We’re five miles outside the town of Maenlarn…maybe sixty miles from you.”

“Excellent!” Marcum answered and Gaston could hear the excitement in his friend’s voice. “Can you ride on Lynndon?”

Gaston glanced at Captain Kerr once more.

“My orders are to harass and occupy the Knights,” Gaston replied carefully.

“Your orders will lose us the Plateau,” Marcum snapped back. Gaston had been under Marcum’s direct command from the time he’d joined the Massi army, back when Gwaynn’s father, Arnot was still King.

“How soon can you get here?”

Kerr stared at Gaston and shook his head negatively.

“If you want us in battle condition…maybe sixteen hours.”

They heard Marcum mutter something unintelligible. “That’s too long. We’ll all be dead by noon tomorrow.”

“After the death of Captain Tanner, King Gwaynn gave us very clear instructions as to our role in this war,” Kerr said finally speaking up.

“Who is that? Is that you Kerr?’

“Yes Sir.”

“Did Gwaynn instruct you to give the Plateau to the Deutzani? Do you know the war is lost if that happens? Do you?”

“No sir…I mean yes sir,” Kerr said clearly flustered.

“Then shut your yap and let me deal with the strategy. Gaston…I need you here…I need you here at all possible speed. Can I count on you?”

Gaston paused for only a moment. He had no wish to disobey his King, but he also knew that if he stayed on the plains and continued to trade blows with the Knights, the Massi cavalry would soon be gone.

“We’ll be there…we’ll be there before noon tomorrow, although what shape our horses will be in is hard to say.”

“Bless you Captain…and don’t worry about Gwaynn. I’ll contact him about your change of plans. Now get moving,” Marcum added and almost at once the Speaker bubble disappeared.

Gaston turned to Kerr, who was pale with worry. “Break camp,” Gaston ordered. It was late in the evening, but he thought they might have two hours of safe riding left in the day. “I know the men and horses are tired, but I’d not try to do the entire sixty miles in the morning…let’s break it up and get a bit closer.”

“As you say,” Kerr said with a nod and left the tent, hurrying to get the men up and about once more. The broke camp fifteen minutes later, most of the men actually relieved that they would be facing an enemy other than the Temple Knights.

ǂ

Captain Hothgaard was still in shock. The counter attack against the Massi cavalry was executed flawlessly, but somehow everything went wrong and they’d lost five hundred and twenty-one men and horses…five hundred and twenty-one. It was inconceivable…utterly unthinkable, but Hothgaard knew it could have been much, much worse. If the Massi commander had not foolishly broken off from the fight in all probability Hothgaard and his Knights would have been utterly wiped out. And the worst of it was that the Knights under his command were some of his most veteran men…experienced, hard combat cavalry men, not the new recruits conscripted after their losses to the Toranado. He left his green troops near Cape in the relative safety of the siege. The defeat left Hothgaard uneasy. First the Toranado and now the Massi had challenged the Temple Knights and pushed them to their limits. It was becoming painfully obvious to the Captain that the Knights no longer enjoyed complete dominance on the battlefield; the Families of the Inland Sea were learning and improving. The High King would be wise to abandon the attempt to retake the Massi lands and give the Temple Knights time to regroup, retrain and recapture their elite standing. It was a sobering thought and not one the Captain relished having, nor did he look forward to reporting such a setback to King Mastoc.

He did not have time to worry about the upcoming encounter however, as Sergeant Lewis poked his head into the tent.

“Speaker Nadler reports contact with Gan…the High King wants details on our situation,” the Sergeant announced, thankful once again that he was not in command of the Knights.

Hothgaard nodded and waited quietly as the Speaker entered and set about making contact with the High King.

“King Weldon has entered the Pass and Arden is convinced that Lynndon will fall very soon,” King Mastoc said confidently. “I want you to move up the timetable and lay siege to Manse. The Massi are finished. Bring the traitorous Prince to me alive if at all possible. I would like to be present when his head is cut from his body.”

Captain Hothgaard said nothing for a moment, considering the apparent good news coming from all across the land, but then he said very strongly. “I think we should pull out of Massi. Gwaynn’s forces are formidable and after the encounter with the Toranado the Temple Knights are as weak and inexperienced as we’ve ever been. The risk may not be worth the gain.”

“What! What are you saying? Massi is ready to fall,” the High King blustered. “Pull out…have you lost your mind…or nerve.”

Hothgaard remained passive during the personal attack; he even smiled ever so slightly. “No, I believe my mind is still intact…as to my nerve…let’s say that I am not so much concerned for my welfare as for yours.”

“What do you mean? Why?”

“The Massi cavalry are loose on the plains…they are good, very good, perhaps even on par with your own Temple Knights.”

“Impossible!”

“Tell that to my dead men,” Hothgaard replied. “Whoever is leading the Massi horsemen is bold and aggressive and very well trained. Perhaps it’s King Gwaynn himself.”

“Prince Gwaynn!”

“As you wish…but my advice is still the same. I advise we pull out of Massi…at least for now, until we are in a stronger position.”

“You will not pull out of the fight…you will lay siege to Manse and you will either kill that Prince or bring him to me,” Mastoc yelled, his rage coming clearly through the silvery bubble hanging in space. Well, that could not be helped. Kings were like spoiled children…used to getting their way…used to the people fawning in constant agreement. Hothgaard promised himself long ago when he was promoted to lead the Temple Knights that the King would get nothing but the truth from him, no matter how disagreeable.

“Do I need to sail to Massi?”

“That would not be advisable or necessary. I’ll pull our strength together and do as you wish.”

“Manse will fall?”

“Manse will fall,” Hothgaard answered, hoping he was not breaking his long ago promise.

ǂ

“We should meet them here,” Lonogan Bock said from the top of a long flat rise located in a section of rolling hills near the foot of the Scar Mountains. They were positioned perhaps two miles to the north of the Aleria Pass. Bock sat on his horse between Gwaynn and the Traveler na Gall. Also in the group were Samantha, Krys, Prince Phillip Toranado, his Weapons Master Tabernas plus the Zarina Monde. The main army was still several miles behind their position but would arrive within an hour.

Gwaynn sat on Eve and surveyed the landscape, quickly approving of his General’s choice of terrain. The Palmerrio were already a day into the Pass, but would not complete their march through the mountains for several more. They would emerge to find the Massi army waiting for them, spread out on this hill…and hidden behind it.

“The slope is steep enough to slow any attack and the top is large enough to support all of our men comfortably,” Bock said, still trying to sell his choice.

Gwaynn’s plan to meet the Palmerrio was a bold one, though he could not take all the credit for it, since it was Samantha who initially suggested the strategy to him. Captain Hahn of course, immediately saw the benefit of such a daring plan of action, though he modified some of the initial ideas. The strategy called for the main lines of the Massi army to meet the Palmerrio attack from atop the hill. Well back from the front lines a force of their best warriors including Gwaynn, Krys, Tabernas and a mass of Toranado heavy infantry would wait with the Travelers. Once the Palmerrio moved forward and engaged the Massi, na Gall and Monde would open a bridge to the rear of the enemy’s lines.  Gwaynn and the others would bypass the bulk of the fighting in order to move quickly and decisively against King Weldon. If everything went well, the plan was to either kill or capture the Palmerrio King and hopefully bring a quick end to the conflict.

“Are you sure Captain Kommidi can keep the Palmerrio cavalry off the flanks of the army?” Prince Phillip asked clearly worried. His mother’s health was flagging. Doctor Linkler felt it was mostly fatigue brought on by the constant stress of warfare, but Phillip believed it had more to do with the loss of Eno. She loved the city and he wanted to see her home as quickly as possible.

Bock frowned. “He’ll have to…but I think they’re up to the job.”

“Just having them present will keep at least part of the Palmerrio cavalry busy watching for our own flanking maneuver,” Gwaynn said.

“And we’re sure King Weldon is with his army?” Krys asked.

“We’re sure,” Monde and na Gall said in unison.

“Let’s make camp down below,” Gwaynn said, then almost to himself added. “One battle…this must be over in one battle. We can’t let the Palmerrio run amok on the Plateau. We need to end this so we can concentrate on the Temple Knights.”

Everyone was silent for a long moment. They were all aware of the pressure Captain Marcum was under at Lynndon, and there were reports coming in that the Temple Knights were scouting Manse. If either position fell, the country of Massi would be nearly impossible to hold and if that happened, Gwaynn and his army would be forced to flee into the mountains and become rebels. The fight with the Palmerrio must be finished quickly and decisively. They could not hold out long against three threats to the Plateau, especially when one of the armies array against them was the Temple Knights.

They were alone, and the final outcome was going to be decided in the next few days.

ǂ

‘We’re losing the Plateau,’ Captain Marcum thought in a panic as more and more Deutzani troops poured up the Scar to face them. Arrows were flying rapidly into the enemy soldiers but with little apparent effect. The Deutzani soldiers on the top of the ridge hastily formed a shield wall against the missiles and the wall was growing stronger by the moment. Marcum knew he had to attack with his remaining foot soldiers; they had to attack right now…or all was lost. He’d put off the final charge as long as possible, hoping that Gaston would show and relieve the pressure, but it was nearly ten in the morning and so far there was no sign of the cavalry. Marcum glanced at Sergeant Birdsong and nodded.

“Prepare!” the Sergeant yelled louder than his Captain would have thought possible, and the men around him quickly came ready. There were precious few infantrymen left, less than three hundred in all.

“Charge!”

There was no hesitation even though most of the men and women present realized that they were badly outnumbered and had little chance of victory.

The Massi infantry shouted in defiance and lifted their halberds and in one coordinated movement, charged the Deutzani shield wall. The two groups hit with massive force and for a moment it appeared that the Massi might actually break the Deutzani line in spots, but after giving slightly, the heavy infantry of the enemy began to push back. Almost immediately the more heavily armored Deutzani began taking a heavy toll on the lightly armored Massi halberdiers.

Captain Marcum was near the centerline, surrounded by Massi infantry soldiers, and was soon so embroiled in the hand to hand fighting that he was unaware of anything but his immediate surroundings. The battle quickly fell into chaos and his total being was swallowed up in the fighting. He attacked, parried and fought with the enemy closest to him with no thought for anything else. He killed one, two…and then three men and silently praised Gwaynn and his heavy training weapons. Marcum knew he was getting old and that his speed was slowly seeping away, but thanks to Gwaynn’s training, he actually believed his strength was growing. His strength, when coupled with his vast experience, made him a deadly opponent, a fact that the Deutzani soldiers around him were quickly learning.

But the Deutzani now heavily outnumber the remaining Massi and the Captain was suddenly facing a pair of enemy soldiers. The two men pitted against him fought aggressively and were utterly intent on killing him quickly but their movements were sluggish and he could tell that they were tiring, and that surprised him. Marcum fought back with a vengeance and held off their uncoordinated first assault.

‘How long have I been fighting?’ He wondered, but had no definitive answer. He was growing weary, but was far from exhausted.

The soldier on the right lunged but it was an obvious feint. Marcum pretended to react to the move and then thrust out quickly with his left kali and sliced through the midsection of the man on the left as he foolishly moved in for the easy kill. Marcum pulled and twisted his weapon free and the man fell to the ground with a howl. Once unencumbered, Marcum spun to face the remaining soldier. The man was large, grim-faced and dirty, and he circled the Massi Captain warily. Marcum was thankful for the time to rest as the man vied for position. He risked a quick look around and his heart fell. The Plateau was flooded with Deutzani, and the ranks of the Massi were critically thin. Off to his right, Marcum saw Sergeant Birdsong fall to a group of three Deutzani soldiers, but then he had to quickly backpedal from the man before him. The large man pressed his attack, hoping to capitalize on the Captain’s divided attention.

But Marcum flipped his wrist and turned the man’s blade harmlessly away. He countered but his own movements were slowing and his attack was also knocked aside.

“You’ve fought well, but the Massi are finished,” the Deutzani said breathing heavily. Marcum made no reply and attacked again as another Deutzani soldier began moving his way. Marcum continued to fight but he knew that his life would undoubtedly be over in a matter of moments.

He slashed through the forearm of the soldier who spoke, just as another; younger and taller Deutzani pressed in and began attacking ferociously. Marcum held off the assault, barely, just as another soldier waded in. Now there were three against him though one was fighting with a single arm. They all attacked in unison and Marcum backpedaling quickly away. His arms were slowly giving out and he knew he could not long hold off the flashing blades flying at him.

‘We’ve lost the Plateau,’ he thought again, resigned to defeat, but then an arrow suddenly appeared in the tall man’s chest. Surprised, the three men facing the Captain all came to a sudden stop though clearly only one was wounded. Marcum wasted no time and rushed forward. He stabbed the wounded man through the neck, spun and hacked off another’s right arm at the elbow. The man fell to his knees screaming and the final man backed away. Marcum removed the head of the screaming enemy and was just turning on the lone survivor when the enemy took a halberd through the back. Darby, a Massi archer even older than Marcum, just grinned and then spit.

“We can’t hold,” Marcum said his voice thick with despair.

Darby frowned. “We can,” he answered as a half a dozen Massi halberdiers and eight archers rushed over to their position. Without waiting for orders, the archers launched several volleys at the closest enemy and for the first time since the battle began Marcum realized the Deutzani were retreating back down the Scar.

“Gaston!” he said ecstatically.

“No sir,” Darby answered. “I was near the cliff’s edge…it’s a large group of Massi, but they’re on foot, and can’t rightly be called an army, though last I saw they were moving in on the Deutzani.

“On foot?” Marcum answered. Darby just nodded and then they all moved to engage another small group of Deutzani soldiers. They were pushed back for a moment, but then another group of Massi led by Birdsong joined the mêlée, giving them overwhelming numbers in the local fight.

“I saw you go down,” Marcum stated once the small skirmish came to an end. More and more Deutzani were fleeing the vicinity and retreating down the Scar and for the moment their area was relatively clear of threats.

Birdsong smiled. “Strong guts,” he answered and turned to show Marcum a large bloody spot in the left side of his leather jerkin. “I’m not dead yet.”

The group forced their way to the edge of the Scar perhaps three hundred feet east of the trail which led to the plains below. Now there were only about two hundred Deutzani on the Plateau and the number was falling rapidly either through retreat or death. Marcum smiled in relief and looked down at the smoldering town below. The Deutzani army was being attacked by a large group of Massi civilians. The Massi attacked like a mob, no tactics and with a wide variety of weapons. Marcum spotted everything from swords to farm implements, but rabble or no, they clearly outnumbered the Deutzani and were pressing them back toward the river. Marcum was glad for the reprieve, but once the Deutzani got over their initial surprise they would make short, bloody work of the Massi mob, no matter their numbers. But then suddenly to the west Marcum saw Captain Gaston and the Massi Cavalry burst from a tree line. The cavalry quickly formed lines and made their lances ready. They charged, and as they crashed into the Deutzani rear a great cheer erupted around him. Marcum shifted his gaze back to the Plateau…it was again in Massi hands. There were only a few dozen Deutzani left and they were falling rapidly.

Marcum screamed his pleasure with the rest of his men and watched as the Deutzani panicked and their lines began to disintegrate. Blood lust began to spread across the Plateau and a group of pike men began to rush down the trail to join the fight on the plains below. Nearly fifty were on their way before Marcum could put a stop to the foolishness.

“We hold the Plateau,” he said loudly to all those around him, though he too was fighting the desire to go and join in the carnage. The battle lasted only a half an hour longer and when it was over Marcum could not see as single Deutzani soldier standing.

“Bloody bastards,” he said and felt not a hint of remorse.

ǂ

General Lonogan Bock stood among his army of twenty-three thousand men and women and watched the Palmerrio cavalry ride off to the south in an obvious flanking maneuver. Bock glanced back but Kommidi and his own horsemen were already moving off to shadow the Palmerrio force. In the days before the enemy appeared at the mouth of the pass, Gwaynn, na Gall and Monde took turns projecting and reporting on the Palmerrio movements and troop numbers. It was because of their reconnaissance Bock knew that the total Palmerrio cavalry numbered over three thousand. This was twice the number of Kommidi’s force. The disparity worried Bock, but the young Captain had strict instructions not to attack the Palmerrio horsemen. His only job was to distract the enemy cavalry and keep them off the army long enough for Gwaynn and his group of attack troops to capture or kill the Palmerrio King.

However, Bock’s main concern was not the Palmerrio cavalry; instead he worried about the vast infantry which was arraying itself in the valley beneath them. At nearly thirty-five thousand men the Palmerrio and Rhondono army was massive and took nearly twenty minutes to quick march into position.

Lonogan looked about, inspecting his own lines, but they’d been set and waiting for the enemy to arrive for several hours. As it was his lines stretched nearly a quarter-mile with three masses of archers placed just behind the heavy infantry, one group of archers on each flank and the largest in the center. The Palmerrio would face withering arrow fire on their march up the long, steep hill.

In the distance, well behind the enemy’s lines, Bock saw a group of horses and soldiers. He could just make out the Palmerrio King’s signal flag; King Weldon was now in position. The smaller hill, though not ideal, would offer a good vantage point for the enemy generals to conduct the upcoming battle. Bock nodded to no one in particular and again glanced back, this time farther down the hill to where Gwaynn and a group of Toranado heavy infantry waited with the Travelers, out of sight from the Palmerrio troops and Generals. Bock thought he saw Gwaynn looking up at him, but at this distance he could not truly tell, but he had little time to dwell on the question before a far off horn sounded and the Palmerrio and Rhondono ground troops began to march across the narrow valley.

The enemy approached slowly at first but as they reached the bottom of the steep hill they broke into a trot. Lonogan glanced off to the south but both the Palmerrio and Massi cavalry were hidden from view. He hoped Kommidi was up to the task and kept the enemy horsemen off their flanks. This was the one area of the plan which caused him genuine concern. Kommidi was young and the men under him were untried. If the Palmerrio were allowed to hit their flanks, serious damage could be inflicted on their smaller army and they could lose everything even if Gwaynn managed to cut Weldon’s head clean off.

“Hold!” he heard Captain Hahn command his archers and then very faintly he heard a repeat call, a female voice…Samantha, coming from the right.

“Hold!” Hahn called again, but then moments later he yelled. “Fire!”  Hundreds of arrows whistled overhead and arched gracefully down to the enemy below. Volley after volley shot past and into the air, raining down on the quickly approaching enemy. From his position Bock could not see what effect the arrows were having, but he hoped it was significant.

“Prepare!” he yelled as the front lines of the enemy approached within a hundred yards.

“Aaaauuuu!” the Toranado infantry yelled in answer and crashed their shields together and moments later the Massi infantry answered with their own yell of defiance. Several more volleys flew overhead and this time Bock could tell the attack was effective if not devastating. Lonogan actually smiled, but it fell quickly from his face as he caught sight of several figures near the front of the enemy lines, both were wearing long black robes trimmed in red.

‘Executioners!’ He thought with a rush of dread, but then the two armies slammed together and all coherent thought fled before the violence.

ǂ

Gwaynn fidgeted as Monde, na Gall and Laynee all worked to build a bridge that would appear some fifty yards from Weldon’s position. They did not want to Travel too close or the first to emerge would be dangerously outnumbered by the King’s personal guard. The three Travelers began working just as David Hahn shouted “Hold,” for the first time. Gwaynn forced himself to be patient and not help the Travelers in any way. He needed to be strong and fast when he joined in the action. The fight would be rough and bloody, most personal guards were nothing short of fanatics, but he fully expected to win through and take the King Weldon himself. As he fidgeted, he glanced in Samantha’s direction but she was too far away and he could not make her out among the many others, but as he watched a large volley of arrows arched gracefully into the sky.

‘Hurry!’ Gwaynn thought as volley after volley was launched from the top of the hill and down at the enemy. From his position he could not tell if the missiles were having any effect, since the targets were still hidden from view on the far side of the hill; he heard no screams; he heard no cheers.

“Bastards!” Prince Phillip said quietly and Gwaynn glanced at him with a small smile. Phillip’s Weapons Master Tabernas tried to convince his Prince to stay out of the raiding party and instead help General Bock lead the battle, but Phillip would have none of it. King Weldon Palmerrio attacked and conquered his homeland…with the help of the Temple Knights, and Phillip was not going to miss his chance to strike a very personal blow against the King from the north.

“Everyone stay in tight,” Krys ordered loudly so that all five hundred men could hear. The group shifted position, though they were already packed in very close. Somehow, the soldiers pressed even more tightly together. Through the bridge, vague colors became visible and Gwaynn knew the time was very close.

“Aaaaauuuu!” he heard the Toranado heavy infantry yell from up on the hill.

“Aaaaauuuu,” called the Toranado men around him very softly, not wanting to give away their presence. Gwaynn was impressed that they managed to keep their voices down in the excitement. Their caution was unfounded because seconds later the crest of the hill erupted with sound, the clash of metal, the defiant yells of men and women, followed quickly by the screams of the wounded and dying. The soldiers at the base of the hill looked up at the symphony of noise, but Gwaynn continued to stare intently at Monde. The Traveler opened her eyes and stared into his.

“I will be watching and waiting for your return…do not dally,” she ordered and Gwaynn nodded.

“Travel!” the two women and Laynee yelled in unison, the young girl’s voice sounding like a small bell, surprisingly clear among the more horrific sounds of battle coming from the hilltop.

The bridge expanded to impressive proportions and Gwaynn, Krys, Phillip and Tabernas rushed through, but more followed quickly since the bridge was sufficiently large enough that six men could file across together. The raiding party started through without hesitation, without even checking to see if they were in the correct position. Gwaynn trusted the Travelers and the soldiers trusted Gwaynn.

Their trust was well founded for when Gwaynn and the first popped out on the far side of the bridge they were just over sixty yards from Weldon’s position. Around the King stood his personal guard, numbering perhaps eighty men; fifty were mounted on horseback, but there were another thirty or so men on foot. Most of those on foot were archers by the looks of them. Without pausing to get a truly accurate read, Gwaynn and the others ran directly at the enemy. They ran quietly, wanting to get as close as possible before they were detected.

“Ho!” Phillip yelled to Gwaynn’s left and he glanced around. Farther down the hill and perhaps two hundred yards away to the east were hundreds of archers and perhaps five hundred horsemen all mounted and waiting. Gwaynn could not get a clear count because some of the force appeared to be hidden from view by another small hill.

‘Reserves!’ Gwaynn berated himself. ‘How could Monde and na Gall missed them?’ The horsemen were facing away and toward the battlefield but there were groups of archers milling about and some were facing their direction and they were all within easy bow range. The Palmerrio archers were already screaming out warnings to those around them and to Gwaynn’s dismay he saw that the King’s personal guard was know alert and taking up position to meet them.

Gwaynn toyed with the idea of immediately retreating even though he was now only some thirty yards from the nearest of the King’s guard. Archers from among Weldon’s group were already shooting arrows his direction. If they were going to turn about it had to be now, but then Gwaynn spotted two figures dressed all in black, robes trimmed with red and in a blink all thoughts of retreating vanished.

“Charge!” Gwaynn yelled and began to sprint up the small hill. He glanced briefly over to the reserve archers who were now shooting arrows up at their position, their rate of fire quickly increasing. Several arrows whizzed past his head but he could do nothing about them so he turned his attention back to those in front of him. Gwaynn realized his men had to engage the enemy archers quickly before the mounted personal guard could form a barrier against them. If this gamble was to work now they had to get to the Palmerrio King within the next few minutes or the reserve cavalry would reach and overwhelm them.

Arrows flew past on all sides as Gwaynn ran. He adjusted his route slightly in order to head directly for the Assassins. He would handle them while the others hopefully carried out the mission. He glanced about for Krys, to tell him to go after Weldon, but his Weapons Master was no longer by his side. He didn’t have much time to wonder about it before suddenly he was on the pair of Executioners. They stood ready, confident and just before Gwaynn engaged them he noticed that one of the black robed figures was a woman. The realization surprised him and caused an uneasy feeling to bubble up in his chest.

‘Female Executioners.’ He found the thought strangely disturbing for some reason. But then he was on them and though he was surprised by the woman’s presence, it did not stop him from turning her first blow and then slicing her head off just that quickly. He spun to face her partner, quickly blocking his counter move, noticing the look of shock on the man’s face.

“She’s not my first,” Gwaynn growled. “Nor my last,” and then he waded in on the man, his blows coming so fast and with such power that the Executioner immediately knew that he was facing someone with truly uncommon skill.

“A Tar!” The Executioner thought to himself just before he lost his left hand at the wrist. A few seconds later his right kali was knocked aside and he lost his head, which plopped in the dust at his feet, his body fell and then jerked about as if trying to run, not yet realizing it was dead.

Gwaynn didn’t stop to gloat; instead he turned and quickly checked on the position of the Palmerrio King. To his surprise Weldon Palmerrio was rapidly moving to the east, away from the threat which materialized out of nowhere. He was galloping in the direction of his reserves. Gwaynn watched with a frown as a mass of Palmerrio cavalry charged past their King and straight for his position. Gwaynn was not aware of how much time had passed while he’d fought the two Executioners, but he did not think it was overly long. Of Krys he saw nothing. All around, the Toranado troops were battling with the King’s guard who were heavily outnumbered and falling rapidly. Gwaynn was at a loss as to what to do next but knew he had to decide quickly. The Palmerrio cavalry reached the bottom of the hill and began charging up toward them. They were closing fast and would be on them in seconds. Gwaynn knew they would have trouble retreating if the reserves were allowed to reach them.

“Coward!” Prince Phillip yelled and Gwaynn knew the comment was directed at King Weldon, who continued to retreat down the hill away from them. Weldon was well passed his reserve archers and still moving fast to the east. His immediate group showed little sign of slowing. Gwaynn grimaced; they would not be catching the enemy King today. He cursed softly and started to shout the signal to retreat but he was interrupted by an attacking guard on horseback. The man was good and so was his horse, but as a pair they were much slower than Gwaynn and it only took him a few minutes to find an opening. He killed the horse first and the guard moments later.

“Fall back!” he yelled and glanced around, expecting to see the reserve cavalry and archers nearly upon them, but instead the reserves were moving back toward their  King, who was surprisingly still retreating and taking a good portion of the reserves with him.

“The Palmerrio are breaking off!” Tabernas yelled and pointed toward the main battle. Sure enough, the enemy was slowly disengaging from the fight and was beginning to head back in their direction.

“We need to get out of here!” Phillip yelled, afraid they would be cut off and surrounded by the retreating Palmerrio army, luckily at the moment there was little danger left in their immediate area, even the reserve archers were retreating out of range. There were a few individual fights still taking place but the Palmerrio guards in the vicinity were soon dispatched.

“Back to the bridge!” Gwaynn yelled and as if by command the bridge, which was being held open in miniature, suddenly expanded before them. Gwaynn ran toward the way to safety, looking about for Krys and wondering why his Weapons Master had not moved on the Palmerrio King, but again he did not find him. Then suddenly, just outside the boundaries of the bridge, Gwaynn caught sight of his friend lying prone in the grass, an arrow protruding from the right side of his skull. Gwaynn’s stomach lurched and he ran to Krys, knowing he was dead, but feeling an overwhelming need to check. He knelt in the grass as an entire army of the enemy topped the hill and moved in his direction. Gwaynn gently turned Krys over on his back. The arrow struck him just below and behind the right temple and was buried deep in his skull. Krys’ eyes were still open but blank. Surprisingly there was very little blood.

“Come,” Tabernas said quietly and it took Gwaynn a moment to realize the Toranado Weapons Master was kneeling by his side. Gwaynn checked for a heartbeat but did not find one. He was not expecting to, but how could he not check?

“Come,” Tabernas repeated and gently touched Gwaynn on the arm.

Gwaynn fought off a wave of sadness, his own body going slack. He did not respond to Tabernas as the Toranado infantry streamed past him and through the bridge. Gwaynn reached down and tenderly pulled his friend’s eyes closed, but still he would not leave. He tried to pull the arrow from his friend’s head but it would not come so in the end he just snapped the shaft as close to the temple as he was able. He paused a moment longer then stood. He grabbed Krys under one arm and Tabernas took the other without being told.

The Palmerrio army was only a few hundred yards away and running toward them, clearly keen on killing them all. But without a word, Gwaynn and Tabernas fled through the bridge pulling Krys’ body with them. They were the last of their group to move through to safety.

ǂ

Samantha fired arrow after arrow into the onrushing Palmerrio army. She saw her last hit a man high on the shoulder and he went down, but the rest were lost in the crowd and confusion of the battle. Samantha did not immediately discard her bow as the two lines met in a loud clash of steel, wood and flesh, instead she continued to hunt for openings in the lines hoping to get a clear shot into the enemy position. She released three more arrows into the tightly pressed lines of men. Two of the missiles clanged off shields or armor but the last buried itself into the neck of a Palmerrio soldier. She thought nothing of it, but then had to shoulder her bow as the enemy army began to push the front lines of the Massi back. All the archers around her were doing likewise. Without orders they all began to take up their long pikes which rested on the ground near their feet.

Cobb, who was Samantha’s constant shadow when she was in battle, lifted his own pike, and worked his way in close to her side. She glanced up at the simple man, but he was intent on the fighting going on before them.

“Form up!” Samantha yelled and those around quickly merged into the defensive square they had long practiced. The formation differed from the diamond formation they used against cavalry and offered much more protection for those near the front. It took great discipline. To survive they had to fight as a unit, only together with a tight, bristling front could they hope to hold off a determined force of infantry.

Once her immediate group was formed, they were perfectly placed to reinforce the front lines if necessary, and for several long minutes it seemed as if they would not be needed, but then suddenly and with almost no warning the Massi lines parted and dissolved away. The front lines of the Palmerrio were quick to press their advantage and stormed through the gap. Samantha braced for the impact and against her will her thoughts centered on the baby growing inside her. Her eyes watered momentarily with fear, but she shook them away just as the first of the enemy troops came within range of her pike. She screamed, stabbed and pushed with the rest of her archers and initially drove back the attackers, killing and wounding many, but as the Massi bowmen pressed forward over the inconsistent footing caused by the dead and dying their momentum faltered. Still they held their position and closed the gap, keeping the battle from turning into a disaster. It was not until a figure robed completely in black appeared on the scene that the tide began to turn against them.

Fear exploded inside Samantha as she caught sight of the Executioner who was viciously attacking their formation several yards to her left. Only the constant attack coming from the enemy soldiers directly to her front kept her from fixating on the man in black for more than a moment. Even so her mind would not leave the Executioner that was fighting and killing so close to her. Still, she had to work with those around her if they were to have any hope of surviving, so she kept her attention on the fighting right in front of her. She didn’t even flinch as the point of her pike sliced through the eye of a Palmerrio soldier. He screamed and staggered back a half step, but then she drove the point through his neck. Blood dribbled over the steelhead of her weapon for a moment but then she jerked the weapon free amidst a fountain of blood. Mercifully the man immediately fell and was lost from view. Samantha immediately turned her focus on the next soldier as he moved forward to take his fallen countryman’s place.  She continued to fight in control until the Massi archer directly to her left let out a piercing scream. Her attention finally wavered and she shifted her gaze once again to the killer from Sinis. Her heart jumped when she saw that the formation on the left side had completely fallen away. Her stomach trembled as she watched the man in black slice through Anthan Drable’s neck. The young man went down without a sound. Samantha started to turn but felt her pike being knocked aside. Her eyes jerked to the front just as the sharp edge of a long sword came crashing down on her left arm, just below the elbow. Her pike instantly fell from her grip and for a moment she felt no pain. Her ears roared and her eyes glazed over as she looked, somewhat bewildered, at the stump of her limb. She held it up, morbidly fascinated, and noticed that her forearm was still attached by a thin slice of meat and skin. Blood was pouring from her wound making the white of her bone stand out in contrast. She was vaguely aware that the soldier who’d lopped off her limb was now advancing on her, but then like an avalanche, the pain engulfed her and she screamed and fell to the ground. She cradled her wounded arm as Cobb rushed forward and skewered the man attacking her. She was awake but not completely cognizant when the big man lifted her into his arms and lumbered away from the battle, heading toward the rear of their lines.

Samantha was holding her wounded arm close to her body and supporting the flapping forearm with her right hand. She stared stunned, as the blood poured from her. It was covering her midsection at an alarming rate as Cobb ran from the battle.

“Strong girl…strong girl…strong girl,” Cobb said over and over as he flew down the hill.

‘We’re going to die,’ she thought, thinking of herself and her baby, and then ever so gently she was placed on the ground where her blood darkened the grass around her.

“Move!” she heard a voice she vaguely recognized as Van’s. The young Deutzani’s features swam before her for a moment. If the pain hadn’t been completely overwhelming she might have laughed at the horrified expression which appeared on his face. He glanced up quickly into her eyes and she saw only fear, but then without hesitation he pulled a long knife from his belt and cut away the dangling section of her arm. The pain she felt was already overpowering her senses and she did not feel anything more as he cut her lower arm away. Her eyes remained glued to her severed limb as he quickly laid it aside. Samantha stared at the fingers of her missing hand with sick fascination, and then suddenly leaned over and threw up her breakfast. While she wretched over and over, Van steadily tightened a tourniquet around her upper arm. He twisted a stick wrapped in a kerchief so tightly that she thought he was trying to pinch off the rest of her limb. She was dizzy when she finally gained control of her stomach and was able to sit up once more. Her arm was still lying there before her, white and still. She stared at it a moment.

“Away!” She suddenly shrieked at the top of her lungs, causing Van to jump and flinch away from her.

“Take it away!” she yelled again, more of a wail than a command but Van nodded to one of the men standing over him and he bent down and picked up her arm. He held it gingerly, far out away from his body, as if it were a snake that might strike at any moment. Samantha continued to stare at the limb until finally he carried it out of sight and part of her was gone forever.

Samantha’s eyes were watering ceaselessly now and her arm was beginning to throb.

“Let’s do it now,” Van said and then he reached for something out of sight. Samantha was surprised to see that it was a brightly burning torch.

“Hold her!” She heard Van say but his voice seemed to be coming from underwater.

“You gonna hurt her?” Samantha heard Cobb ask.

“Cobb hold her,” Van repeated strongly.

“You’re gonna hurt her,” Cobb insisted.

“Yes Cobb! I’m going to hurt her. If I don’t she’s going to die,” Van was all but yelling though Samantha barely heard him and did not feel Cobb’s strong hands grab on to her. But when Van pulled the stump of her left arm away from her body and over the flames of the torch she let out a long, piercing scream. Instinctively she fought against the hurt, but found she could not pull away from the massive strength of the simple man who held her.

‘I’m burning….he’s burning me!’ She thought crazily and then began to shriek even louder. She screamed and screamed and fought desperately to pull her wounded arm away from the flames, but then the shock and pain drove her into unconsciousness.

VIII

Gwaynn stepped through the bridge with a heavy heart, and for a moment was completely oblivious to the chaos all around him, and then he spotted Lonogan Bock striding toward him.

“You have him?” Bock asked, catching sight of the limp body being pulled through the bridge. Bock frowned when Gwaynn shook his head negatively and then looked closer at the body his King was placing gently in the grass. The General’s eyes went wide as he recognized Krys

“Should we pursue?” Bock asked, pulling his eyes from the young, peaceful face of the former Weapons Master of Massi. Gwaynn ignored the question for a moment still concentrating on Krys. Lonogan waited with a feeling of dread, hoping this new loss would not unhinge his young King. The Palmerrio had broken their lines on both the left and the right, only the Toranado center held and if the enemy had not inexplicably abandoned their attack, he honestly believed the battle might have turned into an utter disaster. His army was mere moments from complete collapse.

Gwaynn shook his head once more and finally from his lack of reaction Bock realized that everything had gone horribly wrong.

“How did it happen?” Lonogan asked and suddenly he had a great urge to be away from this place.

“Arrow shot,” Gwaynn finally answered. He lifted his head slowly and gazed up at his General. “Do we have word on the Palmerrio cavalry?”

“No,” Bock answered still staring down at Krys. The young man was so skilled with his weapons and so full of life that Lonogan was having a hard time believing he was dead, even while looking at his corpse.

“Send out scouts to search for the enemy cavalry and Kommidi. We need our Captain and his horses back if we are to shadow the main Palmerrio army,” Gwaynn suddenly said coming alive. He realized now was not the time for grief. If he succumbed to his hurt he might put everything in jeopardy and Krys would not have wanted that.

“What happened?” Bock asked, watching as all around them the army began to assemble for retreat.

“They had reserves waiting…archers and cavalry…plus Executioners,” Gwaynn explained. “There were two…I moved on them expecting Krys to corral the King…” his explanation suddenly stopped. “The battle?”

Lonogan shook his head. “Our lines collapsed on the right and left…if not for the Toranado,” he explained, shaking his head sadly. “There were Executioners in the main body of the Palmerrio army as well. I counted at least three in the center; if there were more it might explain why our lines collapsed so quickly.”

Prince Phillip walked up, accompanied by Tabernas.

“We should move to the north toward Colchester…get some distance between the two armies,” Phillip said gazing down at the dead body of the young Weapons Master.  Gwaynn only nodded. Phillip finally grimaced then he and his own Weapons Master moved off to see the job done.

Automatically Gwaynn started after them but stopped once more as David Hahn rode swiftly up on horseback, his face ashen.

“The Palmerrio?” Gwaynn asked instinctively, but Hahn shook his head.

“It’s…it’s Samantha,” he said and explained her injury, but Gwaynn heard nothing after her name. His ears roared and his legs went weak and shaky. He wavered slightly and was suddenly frantic to see her.

“Where?” he croaked as Hahn extended a hand to pull Gwaynn up behind him onto the horse. Gwaynn stumbled again; suddenly very weak, but then Lonogan stepped forward to help.

“Hang on,” Hahn said once Gwaynn was up and then he spurred his mount toward the rear of the lines.

They reached the wounded quickly but to Gwaynn it seemed to take a lifetime. He spotted Cobb gently holding Samantha and was suddenly revitalized. He jumped from the horse while it was still moving very swiftly. He hit the ground on a run and was by her side in seconds. Cobb gave way to his King without complaint and stood muttering. “Strong girl…she’s a strong, tough girl,” over and over again.

Van was kneeling over Samantha, but as Gwaynn approached he also stood and moved a short distance away. Samantha was very, very pale and for a brief, agonizing moment Gwaynn believed she was dead, but as he fell to the ground and pulled her into his arms he felt her warmth and pliability. She groaned and tears sprang into his eyes and he cried for the first time since promising himself that he never would again. But he did not notice his tears as he kissed her all over her face and neck; he kissed her lips, her hair, her cheeks and eyes. He kissed her until she drifted back toward consciousness.

She opened her eyes, but he was busy at her neck.

“Gwaynn,” she croaked and he pulled his head up, his heart soaring. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” she whispered and began to cry softly.

“Don’t cry,” he answered, smoothing her hair gently.

“The Executioner…” she tried to explain and hatred like nothing Gwaynn had ever felt flamed in his breast. It engulfed him to such a degree that he was unable to speak and could barely breathe.

“I will kill them…I will kill them all,” he promised and this was one promise he fully intended to keep.

Samantha continued to cry softly and Gwaynn continued to sit and hold her until Lonogan Bock appeared with Jess na Gall and Monde.

“The Palmerrio are moving off to the south, hugging the mountains,” Bock informed him. “Kommidi had a small engagement with the Palmerrio cavalry but it didn’t amount to much and the Palmerrio horsemen have since ridden off, following their army.”

Gwaynn nodded. He heard the man’s words but nothing much was registering in his brain at the moment.

“I’d like to take the army back toward Colchester,” Bock said.

“What of Lynndon? It’ll leave Marcum and his men exposed,” Gwaynn said finally coming around as Samantha grew quiet once more and closed her eyes.

Bock smiled wryly. “We’ve had at least some good news today. The Deutzani army was destroyed…Arden is dead.”

“Destroyed!” Gwaynn and Samantha said as one; her eyes flying open at the news, she even smiled when Gwaynn looked down at her. She was pale and her body was shivering slightly, but even so she was heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Seems Gaston disregarded orders and moved his men down the Scar River and attacked,” Bock said and watched Gwaynn’s expression darkened. “Marcum claims he called him for aid…and that Lynndon was about to fall.”

“Manse?”

Bock nodded. “The Knights are making preparations but they’ve not attacked yet.”

“We’ll be caught between two armies,” Hahn said, but before anyone could answer Van spoke up.

“We need to get her and the rest of the wounded to Linkler,” he said strongly. “I’ve done what I can for her, but Linkler’s a true doctor.” The young Deutzani turned to na Gall. “Can you Travel with the most critically wounded?”

Jess thought about it a moment, then nodded her head. “It will put me out of action for a day, but I can…”

“I’ll do it,” Gwaynn interrupted, then glanced at Van, who nodded up the hill.

“The rest of the wounded are up the hill a bit…we’ll need a few minutes to prepare,” Van answered and left but then quickly returned with a cup.

“How do you feel?” He asked Samantha, kneeling beside her.

“It hurts,” she hissed through partially clenched teeth.

“Drink this…it will take the edge off of the pain,” Van answered, impressed with her control. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything stronger.”

She drank from the cup.

“Willow bark,” Van told Gwaynn who was looking at him questioningly. “Can you walk?” Van asked Samantha when she was finished with the draught.

Van and na Gall raised her from her prone position and helped her off Gwaynn’s lap and then to her feet. She stood for only a few seconds before her legs grew shaky then she gagged once but she somehow held down the medicine.

“I don’t…” she began but stopped as Gwaynn carefully lifted her into his arms and carried her gently up the hill to where the others were waiting.

Fifteen minutes later, the bridge was open and the seriously wounded were carried across into Manse where Doctor Linkler quickly took charge of the situation. In all fifty-seven men and women needed urgent care and another sixty where needed to help transport them and by the time they were all through the bridge Gwaynn was seriously tiring, but he managed to hold the portal open until all were through.

“See to Krys,” he said to Lonogan, his voice breaking slightly. “See to all our dead.”

Lonogan nodded and then Gwaynn shakily lifted Samantha and carried her across to Manse.

ǂ

“We were close to crushing them,” General Sanchez insisted excitedly.

“We were close to losing everything,” King Weldon snapped back glancing warily at the Speaker bubble floating in the center of the tent. “They had a Tar in our rear…and they have Travelers.”

“We had our reserves well placed,” Sanchez argued. “We should turn about and press them.”

Weldon shook his head. “They have a Tar! We need to fall back through the Aleria Pass and circle back around to the plains. Is the Gap is still open?”

“You will do no such thing,” Hothgaard’s voice boomed through the Speaker bubble. “We are preparing to attack the northern walls of Manse. You must keep the Massi army up on the Plateau and away from the area.”

“They have a Tar!” Weldon repeated once more, still shaken by the quick, decisive deaths of two of his Executioner allies.

“I do not think he was a Tar,” the Executioner Giodart said confidently from his chair on the far side of the tent.

Weldon’s head swiveled to the man from Sinis. “If not a Tar, then who? The man killed two Executioners in under a minute. They hardly challenged him.”

Giodart stared at the Palmerrio King seemingly unperturbed by the comment, but greatly concerned by the implications. “Prince Gwaynn Massi would be my guess,” Giodart replied dryly. “Do not forget that he trained on Noble and under Tar Nev.”

Weldon barely controlled a shiver at the mention of Nev’s name. “He was only on Noble for a little over a year.”

“You will continue to engage the Massi army,” Hothgaard’s disembodied voice interrupted. “Keep them out of Manse.”

“What of the Deutzani?” Weldon asked.

“We’ve no word,” answered Hothgaard. “Perhaps their Speaker has been killed or wounded, but according to Arden’s last report Lynndon was near to falling.”

“Then the Deutzani could press west toward Manse,” Weldon answered and continued to hold out hope of moving back through the Pass and around to the plains. He did not like the Plateau. He felt trapped and unable to move though the land was wide and open. What truly worried him was the possibility of the Aleria Pass being closed off, because then retreat would be impossible…if everything went bad.

“Forget the Deutzani, though if they actually break Lynndon I will order King Arden west to support you against the Massi army. In the mean time you will continue to harass them. Keep the Massi away from Manse; when we take the city their resistance should collapse.”

There was a moment of silence then the bubble unceremoniously blinked out of existence.

Weldon shot a frustrated glance at Sanchez, who was smart enough not to show his own pleasure. The General was utterly confident that on their next meeting his troops would crush the Massi army and prove his King’s doubts unfounded.

“What of the Travelers?” Weldon asked but he was addressing Tar Giodart rather than his own General. “If we face the Massi again, I want the Tars of Sinis with me.”

Sanchez frowned but before he could say anything Giodart spoke up. “No…I will stay back for protection…if the Prince of Massi comes after you again I will take him, but Tar Rhinehold and Tarina de Croix stay on the wings where they can do the most damage.”

“You think you can take Prince Gwaynn…if that’s who it was?”

Giodart shrugged, though inside he was confident he could handle even a Tar. He was nearly the oldest of the Tars of Sinis, only Tar Nacht and Lacombe had more experience. If the attacker was Prince Gwaynn, well then, so much the better…better than facing a true Tar of Noble at least. From all reports the boy was talented, but he was young and Giodart doubted any youth could hold out against him for long. But if he, in fact, had killed the two young Executioners…plus Tar Navarra, then the boy was truly deadly and should not be underestimated. Still he was young and the young were prone to overconfidence. Plus Giodart had a few subtle moves he was sure would surprise the young Prince. He would win such a contest, he was sure, after all his own skill and training had yet to fail him in combat and he had faced many formidable opponents. Just one slip by young Gwaynn and everything would end for the Massi…abruptly. Even so, when they finally met in battle Giodart decided he would end it quickly, no taunting, no playing with the Prince, there was too much at stake.

“I will handle Gwaynn Massi. You be sure to handle his army.”

ǂ

Cyn de Baard watched as the wounded were hustled into the infirmary. She was no longer staying in the hospital tent, having moved back to her old room at the lumber mill a couple of days prior. But she still visited every other day to have her shoulder dressings changed by a young girl named Merra, who seemed competent enough, but chatted ceaselessly as she worked. However, when the bridge opened and the wounded began to pour through, the young nurse was momentarily rendered speechless.

‘Small favors,’ de Baard thought to herself. Her shoulder, though still very stiff and weak, seemed to be healing nicely with no sign of infection or complications. That was good; she would need it to be completely healed before she finally moved against the bitch…then Tar Nacht. The stitches along her jaw were beginning to itch and according to Linkler would be able to come out after another week or so. Her dislocated jaw was mending as well and she was now able to eat solid food which was a true blessing.

Merra had already cleaned and rewrapped de Baard’s face, the bandage passed over the Executioner’s nose several times but her mouth and eyes were now left free, then the wrap continued under her chin and up over the top of her head before being secured in place. The bandages were now only to protect the cut from dirt and germs and were not wrapped nearly so tight now that her jaw was better. de Baard didn’t mind them however, she was even beginning to like the way she looked in the bandages…it gave her an air of mystery and still left her eyes, by far her best feature, free and unspoiled.

“My!” Merra said as the wounded were hustled in. She was clearly alarmed, though apparently she’d recovered enough from the shock to regain her verbal capacities. To her credit however, she continued to work on de Baard’s wrappings as the wounded streamed by.

de Baard restrained a smile as the wounded soldiers quickly filled up the remaining space in the tent. The battle with the Palmerrio had clearly been a major engagement, not that de Baard particularly cared, but her interest peaked when she caught sight of Gwaynn rushing in and carrying the red-headed whore in his arms. He moved past without a glance in her direction and de Baard felt a stab of jealousy along with a twin stab of hope.

‘Let it be fatal,’ she thought…’but even if it’s not, it’s time I finished the job.’

“All finished,” Merra said with a large smile. The girl was relentlessly happy and upbeat. “You need to come back in three days for a clean bandage. Your wounds are coming along splendidly, but if you’ll excuse me I need to go and find Doctor Linkler.”

“Sure,” de Baard said but the girl was already gone. The Executioner hardly noticed; her eyes were riveted on Gwaynn kneeling over a cot in the far corner of the tent. Linkler was with him, though the doctor only stayed a moment before moving off to check on other patients.

de Baard’s heart soared. ‘Perhaps she’s already dead!’ She thought cheerfully, but then she saw the slut’s hand move up slowly and brush aside a stray piece of hair from the Prince’s face. de Baard’s heart fell. Samantha was alive and probably not in any real danger…at least not from her injuries.

‘She’ll not recover,’ de Baard thought, and though she was not a proponent on the use of poisons as were many of her fellow Executioners, she thought that perhaps it was time to make an exception.

She stood to leave but found herself watching the stricken lovers comfort each other.

“Nearly cut her arm clean off,” a soldier said from a bed nearby. de Baard looked down at the man. He clearly had a head wound, which looked to be superficial. There was blood all down the side of his face but the bleeding appeared to have stopped.

“The Valencia boy cut it the rest of the way off,” the man added. “But he didn’t tax himself, t’was hardly hangin’ on. She took it well but screamed to bloody hell when they fired her stump…nasty work, that is.”

“She…she lost an arm,” de Baard said and had to use all her discipline to keep a smile from rushing to her face.

The man nodded.

‘Who would want a cripple?’ She thought and her desire for Gwaynn Massi swelled briefly in her breast until she managed to fight it down. She did not want to go through any of that again; once was more than enough.

“The King’s been with her the whole time…it was a blow to him, especially after the death of his Weapons Master,” the man added.

“Logan’s dead?” de Baard asked very surprised. Logan was an excellent fighter and would have posed problems for her. His death was welcome news.

The soldier nodded once again, still eyeing his King in the corner. “Took an arrow to the head…from what’s said, he took it in the very opening of the battle. Cryin’ shame. We needed him.”

But de Baard was no longer listening. “Now if only Lee Brandt would die,” she whispered to herself.

“Pardon?” the soldier asked, but de Baard was no longer at his side.  She’d left without another word.

ǂ

Gwaynn woke early the following morning to find Samantha staring up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He was sitting in a hard wooden chair which he’d pulled just as close to her cot as he could get it the night before. He smiled at her encouragingly but couldn’t stifle a groan as he sat up straighter. His back was aching and his neck was stiff. Cobb, who had also not left her side, was lying on the floor on the opposite side of the cot, snoring loudly.

“You still love me?” Samantha asked in a whisper so soft he could barely hear her. But he didn’t have to; instinctively he knew what was on her mind, her left arm…or lack of one. Gwaynn supposed that if he’d just lost a limb his mind would constantly dwell on the fact, like a tongue seeking a bad tooth.

“Enough to sleep in this hard, wooden chair for the rest of my life if I have to,” he answered, but she didn’t smile, instead she held up her injured arm. Its lack of length hit them both equally.

“Look at this,” she said. “And you still love me?”

Gwaynn tried not to roll his eyes. “I must admit, your left forearm was my favorite part of you.  Truth be told, it was all that was really keeping us together…”

“I’m serious Gwaynn,” Samantha snapped so loudly that several nearby patients stirred.

Gwaynn got out of his chair and knelt by her bedside. He reached and gently raised her wounded arm and began softly kissing the blood soaked bandages.

“More than ever,” he whispered. “I remember when I first saw you, rounding the corner, running from Navarra. You’d just been thrown from your horse; you were dirty, your hair was a mess and full of twigs, you were bleeding from a dozen tiny wounds…and I remember…I remember thinking how beautiful you were even with terror etched on your face. But later after you’d cut his head off and I saw your courage…well then you were more than beautiful, you were radiant, like the sun, almost too bright for my eyes.”

Gwaynn held up her half arm once more. “Now…with this… I’ll see nothing but beauty and courage whenever I look at you.”

Samantha stared at him for a long moment without saying a word, but her eyes lost a little of the panic that had threatened to overwhelm her.

“Krys is dead?” She finally asked.

The fact hit Gwaynn like a hammer and he jerked involuntarily, but his eyes never left hers.

“Yes,” he said softly. “He was hit by an arrow almost as soon as we went through the bridge.”

Samantha’s eyes glistened and then she was crying softly once again. Gwaynn sat with her for a while and listened to her cry.

“Does your arm hurt you still?”

She nodded her head, but did not look at him as someone moved through the opening of the large tent. Gwaynn glanced up and caught sight of Cyn de Baard, who stood still for a moment staring at him, and then she walked slowly over to him.

“I heard about Krys,” she said, her face still bandaged, but Samantha thought some of her beauty was beginning to shine through the white cotton wraps once more and her stomach clenched. She knew all about this woman…she knew Huntley wanted Gwaynn, and for a moment she wondered if Gwaynn saw only beauty and courage when he looked at Cyndar as well. Cobb woke and suddenly sat up. He glanced over at Samantha and smiled. “Tough girl,” he mumbled then glanced over at Cyndar and frowned. He did not like the woman…though her face was very beautiful…maybe more than Emm…maybe more than Samantha. But it was her eyes…yes her eyes, they were not beautiful; they were cold and dead, like a fish washed up on a riverbank.

Gwaynn nodded to his Captain but kept his face carefully neutral. He was happy to see her looking so fit and though her shoulder was still wrapped; her eyes sparkled once more with the vitality he remembered.

“I woke Zebo…Monde says the army is moving slowly northeast toward Lynndon shadowing the Palmerrio, but keeping their distance for now. Lonogan expects the Palmerrio to attempt an attack before the day’s end,” she added, hoping to entice Gwaynn to hasten his departure. She had some killing to do.

“The Temple Knights?” Gwaynn asked with growing dismay, feeling the country slipping away from them all. He’d lost…he’d won back Massi and lost it again, all in less than a year…they had been so close, if only…

de Baard shrugged.  “They’re making preparations, but they are a mobile force, not a siege army. I think they will wait for the outcome with the Palmerrio.”

Gwaynn smiled, admiring Cyndar’s keen mind. Her assessment coincided with his exactly. Perhaps she would be his next Weapons Master; after all she had the skill. She’d killed an Executioner all on her own…which was an impressive feat for anyone. Samantha saw his smile and her heart jumped in anger, but she maintained control. Gwaynn however, whose hand was still on her wounded arm felt her stiffen and glanced down at her. Samantha’s eyes bore into his for a moment.

‘As queen she’ll have to put away her jealousy,’ Gwaynn thought. ‘I have responsibilities to myself and my country. Of course to be a queen, she must have a country,’ he amended, thinking of the many threats that still faced them all.

But he was jerked out of these thoughts by a commotion coming from beyond the tent. They all heard a few shouts and then a single clash of steel on steel and then nothing. As one, their eyes went to the tent flap. Gwaynn removed his hand from Samantha’s shoulder and stood, slowly drawing his kali. From the bed Samantha shivered, already missing his touch.

She had no time to dwell on the loss however, because through the flap came a tall, older man dressed in gray robes that were trimmed in royal blue. Samantha didn’t know who the man was, but she recognized that he wore the colors of Noble Island.

She heard Gwaynn gasp.

“Master Kostek,” he said with evident surprise.

“Master Endid,” he added as another, much younger man stepped into the tent, and behind him came a young woman, more a girl than a woman, but she was beautiful and exotic looking with short, jet black hair and olive skin.

“V…Vio!” the Prince stammered, and for once both Samantha and Cyndar agreed on something; neither liked the way Gwaynn’s face lit up when he caught sight of the young woman from Noble. But unlike Samantha, Cyndar’s jealousy quickly turned to another emotion…fear. She recognized the girl from Noble; she recognized her from the bridge that linked Noble to the Isle of Light now almost a year ago, and for once she was thankful for her injuries, grateful for the bandages. She was well aware that if the young woman recognized her in return, she would be hard pressed to survive the next few moments.

But no one was paying much attention to her.

“Greetings King of Massi,” the older man said with a large smile. He moved quickly through the tent to stand before Gwaynn.

“High Tar Kostek,” Gwaynn answered softly, clearly confused by the man’s presence.

But Kostek shook his head. “Simply Tar Kostek,” he answered with another smile. “I have resigned my position…and now I am at your service.”

Cyndar’s heart jumped at the news. ‘I have waited too long. The Tars have arrived. I’ve failed.’

“As am I!” Tar Endid said shaking Gwaynn’s hand.

“And I,” Vio said almost shyly. “As I told you, I am no longer Deutzani.”

Gwaynn’s expression slowly changed from one of stunned disbelief to pure happiness. ‘Tars…two Tars and Vio…they would be indispensible in the coming conflict.’

“You are welcome…you are very welcome here in Massi,” he said grinning broadly as he moved over to hug Vio. When they pulled apart, Gwaynn was still smiling.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” he said to them all and turned around, relieved that for once, Samantha did not appear to be jealous of his obvious affection for another woman.

“This is Samantha Fultan,” he said looking down at her with such a soft, loving expression that she had a hard time pulling her eyes from his in order to properly greet their visitors. “She’s the mother of my child and soon to be my queen,” he added.

Samantha’s heart jumped and suddenly she knew; knew in her heart that he loved her and was devoted to her.

They all greeted her with enthusiasm and warmth, but Samantha was painfully aware that they were also blatantly ignoring her missing arm.

“And this is…” Gwaynn continued but when he turned around Cyndar Huntley was no longer in the tent. He wondered briefly at her absence and sincerely hoped it was not because of his declaration of devotion for Samantha, after all he’d made his feelings perfectly clear to his Captain. In this world, he could not be with her but then abruptly and unbidden, the vision of Cyndar naked flashed clearly in his mind. He blinked once trying to dispel the vision, finally it dissipated but it left behind a forbidden warmth he could not deny. He sighed softly.

“Rest,” he said and leaned over and kissed Samantha on the forehead. “I’ll return later and fill you in.”

When they stepped from the tent, Gwaynn received another shock, for there milling about the courtyard of the bailey were three additional Tars and a half dozen students, Tam and William from Mele quarter among them.

“Tarina Grace,” Gwaynn said smiling and moving forward to grasp the hand of the tall elderly woman. She smiled back and bowed slightly.

“It is good to see you doing so well,” the Tarina said. “We’ve come to aid you against the High King’s injustice.”

“I thank you. I thank you all,” Gwaynn said as Kostek introduce him to the other Tars. Tar Myson, Tar Halstad and Tarina re N’dori, who Gwaynn was surprised to find out was actually a Solitary.

“Nev has told me of your skill and wisdom,” the Solitary said quietly. “I was curious and wanted to experience you for myself,” she added in attempt to explain her presence.

Gwaynn studied her a moment, amused by her statement. She was tall, nearly eye level with Gwaynn. Her light brown hair was thick, and though it was tied back with a leather thong, a good deal of it had broken free and was blowing about in the late morning breeze. Apparently having a patch of wild hair on your head was a mandatory requirement to become a Solitary on Noble.

“Gwaynn,” Tam said and moved forward to give him a long hug. She was taller, and her dark hair was longer, but otherwise she looked just as she had the last time he’d seen her. William followed with a strong handshake and a pat on the shoulder. He looked much the same. Gwaynn was of the mind that he did not know any of the other students until Kostek introduced the Lady Bethany of Massi…Noble’s other student from his country. She was taller than he remembered, though far from tall, standing just over five feet. Her hair was long and dark, her cheeks were round and prominent and her eyes were wide brown pools. She was growing into a very lovely young woman.

“Majesty,” she said with a graceful bow.

“Gwaynn please,” he answered and reached out to guide her to her full height. He looked down at her with clear affection, though they’d met only briefly before. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you…Gwaynn,” she said and stepped back.

The other students, Saran and Jinja were both seven year male students from the Mneme quarter, and a small dark skinned girl named Indira from Aoede quarter. It was only later that Gwaynn learned she was the eldest student of the group…and aside from Vio, the most talented.

“What’s the situation?” Tar Kostek said after all the introductions were made. “I see the Temple Knights are preparing for battle,” he added glancing off the Scar and out across Manse to the plains below.

“Yes…” Gwaynn began but was interrupted as Emm rushed up to them, the expression on her face made it plain that she’d already heard the bad news. Gwaynn groaned, inwardly berating himself for not going to the girl first.

“Gwaynn where’s Krys?”

Gwaynn hesitated and Emm face went from panic to anguish in an instant. She cried out and staggered slightly, then she crumpled and would have fallen but Gwaynn moved forward, caught her and lifted her into his arms. He carried her easily, surprised by just how physically insubstantial she was. He held her close and whispered words that would not, could not help. But it mattered little, she was unconscious but even so her dark brows were furrowed in pain.

“Krys was killed this morning in the fighting on the Plateau,” Gwaynn explained. Vio gasped in disbelief and Tam actually cried out in shock, and Gwaynn saw his own sadness mirrored in the expressions of every Tar from Noble Island.

IX

‘She saw me! She knows or will remember soon enough’ Tarina Cyn de Baard thought as she hastily shoved her belongings into several bags. She had to leave…leave now before the girl placed her, and she eventually would, undoubtedly when her facial bandages finally came off. de Baard’s heart only began to slow when all her belongings were packed away and waiting on the bed.

‘I’ll have to be careful with the horse or it will cause suspicion.’ She moved to the door of her room and was almost off to garner a mount when she suddenly stopped, her hand resting lightly on the latch. She flopped down on the bed, trying to think, trying to be calm.

‘But she didn’t recognize me…and like a young fool you ran away…I should have stayed. But there were Tars…two Tars.’

de Baard, though she was confident of her skills, had no illusions about what would have happened to her if she went up against two Tars from Noble. She would die…and quickly, and that was not even taking Gwaynn into account. He was so skilled, so fast, so deadly, he had to be fighting on Tar level…if he was not, then the fate of Sinis was assured.

‘But she did not recognize me,’ de Baard reminded herself.

Her heartbeat slowed even more and she finally got control of her emotions. Even if the girl didn’t recognize her, the presence of Tars now hampered her plans all the more.

‘I could add the Noble girl to the list of those who will die,’ she considered with as smile, but it soon fell into a frown. The list of people she planned to kill but had not, was growing very long.

In the end, de Baard only had two real options; she could run, or she could kill Vio along with the bitch…and possibly Gwaynn. Of course if the opportunity presented itself she could just kill Gwaynn and his whore and then flee, but perhaps…yes perhaps poison should be brought to bear.

‘With poison I could kill them all…all the Tars and all the students.’

de Baard quickly sat up and considered the idea a moment longer and then she smiled her sweet, warm smile.

‘To kill Tars would go a long way with Sinis…I would be welcomed back and then I could deal with Nacht.’

de Baard stood and began to unpack once more. If she was to succeed she must be calm; she must not lose her head. She pulled her two needle knives from the pack and attached them carefully back to the underside of her bed, making sure that they were out of sight and then she pulled a small bottle of scented oil from her pack. On impulse she pulled the stopper and placed her left index finger over the opening then tipped the bottle once, then twice and touched the oil to the base of her neck. The scent of cherry blossoms suddenly filled the small room and instantly de Baard felt at ease and in control once more.

‘I’ll kill the bitch first. If I fail with the others so be it, but Samantha must die.’

de Baard frowned again and tried to exercise her shoulder. Pain shot through it, but she ignored it and continued to rotate it, gradually loosening the muscles and improving her range of motion.

‘I’m healing…but I must act soon. When Gwaynn leaves to fight the Palmerrio…he’ll take the Tars and then she’ll die. It will be very easy to kill a one armed whore.’

Again de Baard smiled. ‘Perhaps Gwaynn will even be relieved to be rid of the cripple.’

The thought came unbidden, and de Baard mentally brushed it aside then continued to unpack the rest of her things.

ǂ

“No Gwaynn…I’m going with you,” Vio insisted, determination etched on her face.

“As will we,” added William, holding tightly to Tam’s hand.

“There’s not a question of any of us staying behind,” Saran said and the rest of the students nodded.

Gwaynn stared at them all in exasperation. He knew they had skill, and he knew they would be a tremendous help against the Palmerrio, but they were young and untried. He doubted any of them had ever killed another human being. War was not like sparring. They were not truly aware of the danger they would be in, he was utterly sure of that.

“Krys died!” He finally said, using his last argument. He hoped that Kostek and the other Tars would rally to his side, but to his surprise they supported the students’ view.

“They’ve come to fight,” Kostek said, “and I have no power over them any longer. We’ve all left Noble behind.”

“I’ll stay in Manse,” Tar Grace finally spoke up, knowing that as the eldest she would be hard pressed to survive an extended campaign, “and see to the defenses here. Take the rest, you will need them. From what you’ve told us, the Palmerrio must be defeated quickly if we are to trap the Knights on the plains. They,” she added with a sweeping gesture which included all the students, “can help you. They’ve been well trained.”

“Very well,” Gwaynn finally agreed and shook his head when Vio’s face erupted into a smile. A quick look around showed that her expression was shared by all of the students except Saran, who looked thoughtful. ‘They will soon learn what it is to kill a man,’ Gwaynn thought but said nothing more on the subject.

“Monde tells me that the Palmerrio cavalry have been hitting the edges of the army all afternoon, trying to drive them back toward the Scar. I’ve called on my own cavalry to move up from Lynndon and join with Bock…we’ll have need of them,” Gwaynn explained.

“You expect the Palmerrio to attack soon?” Tar Myson asked.

Gwaynn nodded. “Tomorrow morning…or the day after. We should leave this evening while it is still light, I just have a few details to go over while I’m here,” he explained with a nod toward Tar Grace. “There’ll be a lot of hard riding ahead of us.”

“What of the Travelers?” Tar Halstad asked, who was by far the thickest Tar Gwaynn had ever come across. Most of those from Noble were lean and wiry from the constant running and exercise.

Gwaynn shook his head. “I’ll need them rested for the upcoming battle…the ability to move troops about during the fighting is a great asset.”

Tar Halstad nodded, liking the young prince’s manner and instincts.

“We could…” Tar Kostek began but Tarina re N’dori interrupted.

“I can take us to the Massi army,” she stated simply and though the group had just come from Noble via Tar Nev, N’dori’s revelation still shocked the other Tars. “It is not nearly so far as Noble…I believe I can manage the task.”

“We should leave immediately,” Jinja spoke up, eager to get into the fight. Fighting was his life and he did not relish missing even a moment of the battle to come.

Gwaynn frowned. “No, Zebo is keeping in contact with Monde; as long as the Palmerrio behave we’ll go in the morning…if we are to Travel.”

N’dori nodded.

The Tars took the news stoically, but each and every student wore a look of disappointment.

“Tarina Grace, if you’ll come with me I’d like to introduce you to my Captain,” Gwaynn said. “She’s quite a fighter herself…very talented. She killed an Executioner on her own several weeks back and is still recovering from her injuries…she’s a great loss to me. Master Kostek, would you join us as well?”

“Of course,” Kostek said eyeing Gwaynn with wonder and amusement. The boy had always been calm and mature for his age, but now…now he was a man, a very confident man.

“I’d like to come,” Vio chimed in, eyes only for Gwaynn. She hoped she might be over him emotionally, but seeing him again…seeing the way he was, brought every past thought and feeling home to her so strongly that at times she felt she couldn’t breathe. Everything about him was attractive to her and though she realized she could not have him in any permanent way, she was still determined to spend as much time with him as possible.

It took almost a quarter of an hour to track down Captain Huntley but in the end Gwaynn found her out near the entrance to the oxbow, manning the walls of the levee and looking out over the plains in the direction of the Temple Knights. The Knights were currently in the process of building several large siege weapons in the distance. From what they could tell the weapons were mostly towers, though what good they would do with the ditch and then the steep levee in the way, Gwaynn did not know.

“They’re not towers, they’re causeways tipped on end,” Kostek explained. “Once they reach the ditch down in front, the enemy will simply tip them over for an easier approached to the walls. Who planned your defenses?”

“My General…Lonogan Bock,” Gwaynn said and was surprised that he felt pride in the older man, now his man, though he’d fought for his father and for his old friend and Weapons Master Afton Sath.

“Impressive,” Tarina Grace said as they moved down the wall toward where Captain Huntley was deep in discussion with several older men. She stood up, very straight when she spotted them coming and waited impassively.

“Captain Huntley,” Gwaynn began, “you disappeared before I could make proper introductions earlier.”

“My bandages needed changing,” Cyndar lied and her eyes involuntarily darted toward Vio. She took deep calming breath and had to use a good deal of will power to keep her right hand from moving to the hilt of her kali.

“Yes,” Gwaynn commented then turned and introduced Grace and Kostek first.

“Gwaynn tells us that you defeated an Executioner on your own,” Tarina Grace said with a slight bow.

Cyndar only nodded. ‘Tarina Bitch!’ She thought.

“Where were you trained? It is not easy to kill an Executioner,” Kostek interjected.

Cyndar flashed a look at the man and was again thankful for her bandages. She did not like all this talk of Executioners in front of the young woman…it might help to jog her memory. “My father taught me…he was a soldier,” she explained, though it sounded weak to her. “He always said I would grow to be better with the kali than he was.”

“And this is Vio Valencia…Van’s cousin,” Gwaynn added.

“Van!” Vio said. “I’d forgotten. Is he here?”

Cyndar breathed a sigh of relief at the distraction.

“No…he’s with the army…he helps with the wounded,” Gwaynn explained.

“I must continue to prepare,” Cyndar added with just a hint of a bow.

“Please allow Tarina Grace to accompany you,” Gwaynn said. “She’ll be assisting in the defense.”

Cyndar’s eyes went cold and they reminded Gwaynn of the night he rejected her, but she said nothing and just nodded her head, then the two turned and began walking away along the ramparts.

“You all should get something to eat,” Gwaynn told his companions from Noble. “I’ll have someone show you to your quarters.” He was anxious to get back to Samantha. They had little time left together until he would be off once more to join the army. The thought of leaving her sent a pang of guilt through his chest.

Kostek nodded, but Vio appeared not to be listening. She stood watching as the Tarina Grace and Captain Huntley walked away along the defensive walls. The elder of the two walked with a slight hitch over the rough causeway, but the younger, taller woman moved with an easy grace. Vio continued to study Huntley as she sauntered into the sunset…her movements seemed familiar, but after a long moment Vio shook her head and turned to Gwaynn.

“Yes, I’m hungry,” she said with a smile and Gwaynn was struck once again by her strange, elfin beauty.

“It’s good to have you here,” he blurted impulsively, though he meant it. For the first time since the fall of Solarii he felt good about the possibility of victory.

Vio reached out her hand and touched his, but quickly pulled it back away, thinking of the girl who would one day be his queen. “It’s good to see you too,” she said softly and they looked at each other until Kostek coughed and then without embarrassment they all made their way toward the stairs which led down into the growing town.

ǂ

Captain Hothgaard watched pensively as the work crews assembled the last of the giant wooden causeways that would help breech the walls of Manse. The final causeway was very thick and sturdy. It would be lowered over the protective ditch directly before the main gates that led through the enemy levee.

Hothgaard was growing nervous, expecting the Massi cavalry to attack at any moment. The siege weapons would be the prime targets, and the enemy would undoubtedly attempt to destroy them before they could be put to use. Patrols were out constantly but they all continued to come back with reports of ‘all clear.’  It was nerve-wracking knowing the enemy was out there; knowing the enemy would attack, but unable to detect any sign of them. The Massi would be fools to meekly hide behind their walls like rabbits in a shallow hole, and from what Hothgaard had garnered thus far, the Massi were no fools. Walls never kept any army out for very long. Fortifications were made to fall, made to crumble, made to be taken and that was why the Temple Knights were such a powerful force in the lands of the Inland Sea; it was the ability to be mobile, to move anywhere on the battlefield that determined victory. It was for this very reason that Hothgaard was nervous. He needed Manse to fall and fall quickly before Prince Gwaynn could bring his army to reinforce the city and bring the talents of the Travelers to bear on the battlefield. It was very unwise of the High King to attack the Isle of Light, and more foolish still for not having a realistic plan to finish the job. Travelers were the ultimate wild card in battle; enemy troops could appear and disappear at will. It was an opposing commander’s nightmare and it was a nightmare he would soon face if he could not quickly and decisively crush the Massi people.

‘We should move off and out of this place,’ Hothgaard thought again, his every instinct screaming at him to withdraw, but he knew that was now impossible.

Sergeant Lewis rode up and interrupted the Captain’s thoughts.

“The afternoon patrols are in…no sign of the Massi cavalry,” the Sergeant stated, and he too was growing nervous by the enemy’s sudden disappearance. Of course, he was of the mind that the Massi had lost heart after the last engagement. The Temple Knights were accustomed to their enemies retreating before them, and though the Massi fought well, they were not the equal of the Knights and they must know it…everyone knew it.

Hothgaard did not answer.

Sergeant Lewis cleared his throat, but still his commander did not respond.  During the last week something was eating at the Captain’s confidence, making him cautious and jumpy, at first it unnerved the Sergeant, but now it simply annoyed him. And again he wondered if he should send a report to the High King. Nothing was worse than a commander who’d lost his nerve.

“We should attack this evening, as soon as the causeways are complete. Weldon reports that the Massi army is far to the east and if they attempt to disengage and move to reinforce they will leave their flanks exposed.”

At first Sergeant Lewis thought that the Captain still would not respond, but then he turned from his study of the enemy’s defenses and gazed at Lewis for a long uncomfortable moment.

“No.” Was all he said and then turned back to gaze at the levee protecting the city of Manse.

“The Massi cavalry should hit us tonight…and we should be prepared,” Hothgaard added. “They are out there…waiting…unless…” the thought came to him in a flash. ‘Travelers! The cavalry will use Travelers to move to our rear!’ Yes…it’s what he would do if he had the option; if he was in their position.

“The High King will not like the delay,” the Sergeant commented and Hothgaard spun, his right hand going to the hilt of his kali. Sergeant Lewis took a quick step back, eyes wide.

“The High King is not here,” Hothgaard spat and took a menacing step forward, the knuckles white on the grip of his weapon.

“Your pardon,” Sergeant Lewis said, frightened but satisfied that he had finally succeeded in getting a reaction from his superior. Lewis had traveled up the ranks with Captain Low Hothgaard and knew him to be a decisive and bold leader of men. Somewhere along the way he’d lost his passion for fighting and it was time he reclaimed it.

“The Massi will use Travelers…tonight to attain surprise and attempt to destroy the causeways…we will be ready,” Hothgaard explained, his anger quickly subsiding. Sergeant Lewis was a good man, an excellent fighter and a competent leader of men, but he lacked imagination…attack, attack, always attack. Of course such a strategy normally worked for the Knights so one could hardly blame him.

“Travelers!” Lewis repeated, the idea strange in his mind, but of course it was a possibility. Monde and na Gall were known to be with the Massi.

“The High King should have killed them all,” Lewis said absently.

“No,” Hothgaard replied harshly some of his anger returning…thoughts of the High King seemed to do that these days. “He should have bloody well left them be…I’m amazed he hasn’t made the Tars of Noble our enemies as well.”

Lewis said nothing, too stunned by the idea of fighting the legendary swordsman of Noble to speak.

“Should we send out more patrols?” The sergeant asked.

“What for? They’ll not find anything,” Hothgaard snapped. “Pull everyone in close and I want triple the guards tonight. If the Massi are foolish enough to delay their attack we will strike Manse come first light. When we move, we’ll need to move quickly and batter down the gates so our horses can join in the fight…speed and strength as always, wins the day.”

“Yes Sir!” Lewis shouted, snapping to attention, a wave of relief surging over him with the knowledge that his friend and leader was back to his old self.

“See to it,” Hothgaard said and then turned back to study the breastwork protecting Manse and wondered just what Prince Gwaynn and his commanders were up to at this very moment.

ǂ

At that moment Gwaynn was walking into the hospital tent, hoping that Samantha was awake. She was sitting up in her cot talking to Emm who was perched on the edge of her bed. Emm was not crying but from the looks of her she’d stopped only a short time prior. Cobb, ever present, stood over them both, fidgeting uncomfortably in the sea of emotions permeating the tent.

Samantha looked up as Gwaynn entered and actually gave him a soft smile. It was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a very long time.

“Emm,” he said softly and touched the girl on the shoulder. She looked up and gave him one of her own sad smiles in contrast.

Emm turned back to Samantha. “I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and shakily stood up. “Come Cobb…you can keep me company,” she ordered and the large man lumbered to her side.

“You needn’t leave,” Gwaynn said, feeling very bad for the girl.

Emm was silent for a moment and then leaned into Gwaynn, who put his arm around her sympathetically. “Thank you…but I’m finally getting hungry…and I’m tired. I’m really tired,” she added and with Cobb in tow they slowly wandered away and out of the tent.

“Will she be alright?” Gwaynn asked taking her place on the side of the cot.

Samantha sighed. “Maybe…but not for a very long time. Krys meant the world to her…she loved him very much.”

“He…” Gwaynn began but had to stop for a moment to control his emotions. “He loved her too…I never understood why when he was alive, but I’m beginning to see the attraction.”

“She’s soft and good despite what was done to her. I think the goodness of her was what attracted Krys,” Samantha tried to explain, but then feel silent.

“How do you feel?” Gwaynn asked looking down at her half arm.

Samantha shrugged. “It throbs, but Linkler gives me willow bark to ease the pain. It helps a bit.”

“Does it hurt terribly?”

“Only when I forget and bang it against something,” she answered and then once again they fell silent, somehow uncomfortable, as if they truly didn’t know each other.

Finally Samantha looked up and stared directly into Gwaynn’s eyes. He held her gaze and wondered at it briefly.

“Gwaynn,” she said softly. “Would you take me to our room?”

Gwaynn sighed with relief. “Of course,” he answered and wondered at the question.

“No,” Samantha said as he stood. “I mean will you take me to our room and love me…will you love me like before.” She knew he loved her, but was anxious, afraid that her deformity might repulse him.

Now Gwaynn understood and with a genuine smile he reached down and threw off her covers and reached to pick her up.

“I can walk,” Samantha said and pushed him gently away, then without much effort she got to her feet and stood. She remained still for a moment and was somewhat surprised that she was not dizzy in the least. Gwaynn moved to her right side, reached out and took her hand. She did not look at him but instead led him from the tent and out into the open. On the way across the bridge and up to the Plateau they passed several groups of people, civilians and troops alike, and Samantha found that with them she was not in the least self conscious about her injury…she thought it would bother her…she thought people would stare, but now she realized she didn’t care what they thought…only Gwaynn.

They reached the bailey and entered the gates. They began walking faster and faster as they drew closer to their room, so that by the time they reached the door they were near to breaking into a jog.

They threw the door open and moved inside then slammed the door closed. Instantly they were in each other’s arms. They kissed long and hard, both thankful to be alive and together, then without pause Gwaynn began to slowly, carefully undress her. Samantha scrutinized him closely as he worked, but was relieved and happy to see that Gwaynn’s face held not a hint of revulsion. And when she was completely naked she stood before Gwaynn and nearly cried with happiness at the obvious love and desire that shone from his face. But he was oblivious to her examination and stripped quickly then he moved to her, easily lifted her up and carried her to his bed.

He hurt her arm only once, but she was very careful not to cry out and when they finally lay exhausted and spent, Samantha drifted off, happy and content without a thought for her missing arm.

ǂ

Just a bit farther to the north in the newly completed Lamb’s Breath Inn, Vio lay awake in the bed she was sharing with Tam, listening to the young girl talk. She’d been yapping for the better part of an hour but Vio didn’t mind. She was not counting on getting much sleep in any case, but it wasn’t the excitement of going to war that raged in her mind, it was thoughts of Gwaynn. Her feelings were once again jumbled up inside her and try as she might to make some sense of them, they insisted on disarray.

Tam was quiet now, though Vio could not have said exactly when it was she’d stopped talking. The girl’s breathing was coming soft and even, the rhythm of sleep and Vio found she envied her, not only for the bliss of unconsciousness, but also for William. Tam had someone. Such a simple thing to say, and something of relatively little importance, that is unless you had no one. Being alone, utterly alone, eroded at one’s very being.

During the past year, Vio nearly convinced herself that she was over Gwaynn. Her heart no longer hurt and he was no longer the last thing she thought about before falling asleep, nor the first thing that came to mind in the morning. But seeing him again…Vio knew she was in trouble once more. Her heart told her so with crushing constrictions at the first sight of his face…a face that had changed, grown older, grown harder, but still it ruled her heart and ruled her mind. She wondered how such a little thing as a face could cause her so much pain; after all she went through her life seeing faces by the thousands. Why should this one be so different? She did not know. But she knew that his face was different and there was little she could do about it. Logic did not work against such power, nor did denial. It was just a fact, when she saw Gwaynn her heart hurt.

Vio tossed and turned, unaware of the time, but she had the distinct feeling that the sky in the east should begin to lighten at any minute. She was about to give up and slide out of bed, when Tam rolled over in her sleep and snuggled close, her face resting on Vio’s bare shoulder. Vio sighed, annoyed at first, but Tam was so sweet, innocent and warm that soon she welcomed the touch, even if it wasn’t the person she longed for.

Minutes past and without realizing it Vio grew groggy, though her mind was still moving from thought to thought, completely out of control. Jealousy and sadness tinged her psyche as she considered Samantha…Gwaynn’s supposed bride. She thought of the girl’s injury and wondered how she, herself would handle a missing hand. It could happen. She had no illusions that she was invulnerable, but she did not think it likely. She was too skilled, too aware, and too experienced to let anything so catastrophic happen to her. But then, just as sleep was about to take her, the thought of the Captain…Huntley entered her mind.

‘I know her,’ Vio thought dimly. ‘Her walk…there was something about her walk.’

But Vio did not place her before sleep finally came, and she rolled over, her face mere inches from Tam’s, the two girls finally sleeping in complete peace.

ǂ

Very early the following morning, Gwaynn left Samantha’s side and climbed from the bed. She came awake almost instantly, happy at first but then fearful when the realization hit her that Gwaynn was leaving to face more danger. Krys was killed so quickly, with no warning, no chance. The same could happen to Gwaynn. Her heart jumped in her throat but she said nothing…he was King…he had to fight, she knew that and accepted it, but somehow it was so much easier when she’d been able to fight at his side. Now she must wait and wonder. She didn’t know how most women could do it…it was agonizing and Gwaynn was still in the room quietly dressing!

He glanced up at her, then down at her bare breasts.

“They’re getting bigger,” he commented and at first she didn’t understand, then she looked down and grinned.

“You like?”

Gwaynn nodded and moved to her and nuzzled each breast briefly. “I like,” he mumbled.

“The rest of me is getting bigger as well,” she said and rubbed her stomach with her lone hand.

“You’re so beautiful,” he answered softly then stood and finished dressing.

“Come back to me,” she whispered.

“Nothing will stop that,” he said with fierce determination. “Please believe me.”

She looked up at him…his youth, his strength and vitality were beyond question and she found that without a doubt, she believed him.

“I love you,” she said.

“And I you,” he answered and with a long kiss he stood. “You be careful…and do what Doctor Linkler orders.”

“Yes sir,” she answered and they both smiled, and then he was gone.

Samantha felt lonely for a moment, then the knowledge of Gwaynn’s love wrapped itself around her and she suddenly felt warm and drowsy. She dropped back down on the bed and before Gwaynn was out of the bailey she was sleeping once more.

Gwaynn walked from the wooden fortress and down the Scar toward the bridge that would lead him to Manse. He was met by the entire group from Noble, even Tar Grace, who would not be leaving with them.

Vio, Tam and William greeted Gwaynn warmly and he could feel their excitement. They were going to war!

“I’ve located the Massi army with the help of Zarina Monde,” N’dori said in her calm, almost bored manner. For some reason Gwaynn had come to believe all the Solitaries would behave similar to Tar Nev’s happy, laughing manner. N’dori studied Gwaynn’s reaction with interest though her expression gave away nothing. Gwaynn considered her in return. She was slightly taller than average with nondescript, very long brown hair that she kept tied up tight, but here and there a few strands worked themselves free. Her face appeared plain initially but on closer inspection Gwaynn saw that her skin was smooth and her complexion slightly creamy. It was an open face, sporting wide, high cheekbones. And though her manner was very different from Tar Nev’s, when Gwaynn looked closely he could see a familiar twinkle in her eye. He smiled at her and she nodded with understanding. “Are you ready to depart?”

Gwaynn looked to the others, who all assented and Lady Bethany even placed her right hand on the hilt of her kali, as if the Tarina were about to transport them into the middle of a battle.

Gwaynn then turned to Tarina Grace. “Contact me if our friends outside decide to visit uninvited,” he said, giving the simple order in a manner that said he was used to being obeyed.

The Tarina nodded but said nothing more.

“Very well,” N’dori said and almost instantly a bridge appeared before her. The students around her gasped though they’d witnessed such power from Tar Nev when he’d created the bridge from Noble. Gwaynn on the other hand, frowned. The bridge had opened quickly but Gwaynn had no sense that the Tarina had altered time in any way. He took a moment to mentally reach out and test her power. Instantly she was aware of his presence and turned to look at him. She smiled for the first time.

“After you Sire,” she added. Gwaynn tipped his head slightly and stepped through the bridge. The others followed and immediately found themselves in the middle of the Massi camp which was bustling with early morning activity.

Tarina Monde, Jess na Gall and Lonogan Bock all waited for them in the center of camp.

Lonogan stepped forward and grasped Gwaynn’s hand. “Welcome, welcome,” he said with a wide smile full of excitement and relief.

ǂ

Almost exactly one hour after Gwaynn and his party departed from Manse the Temple Knights moved forward to attack.  The alarm rang out across the town and Tar Grace rushed to the walls of the levee to see the nature of the threat. She was soon joined on the wall by Captain Huntley, who was barking orders farther to the west, near the gates. To the Tar’s surprise Samantha, Gwaynn’s woman, also climbed the ladder to the ramparts. She negotiated the climb rather quickly despite having to use the crook of her elbow on her bad arm for support.

“You should be in the hospital tent,” Grace said blandly to Samantha as she approached.

“I’ll be all right,” Samantha answered, slightly intimidated by the elder Tar. “I can still run if the walls are breeched…my legs are fine. But I’m here to see that it doesn’t happen.”

Tarina Marissa Grace studied the girl for a brief moment then together they turned back and watched as the constructed causeways of the Temple Knights slowly rolled toward the protective ditch of the levee. At the moment, the causeways were still well out of arrow range, but at the pace they were coming they would soon be close enough.

Samantha turned. “Sergeant…prepare to fire on my order,” she yelled to the host of archers set back from the walls, most of which were hiding in their own protective shelters against the possibility of any return fire, though as far as Samantha could tell there were no mass of archers among the Knights.

Tarina Grace could feel the nervous excitement running through the men and women who manned the walls.

“Steady,” she said confidently and her demeanor, plus the fact that she was a Tarina from Noble, served to calm the nerves of those near her position. She walked slowly along the wall toward the west and the only gate that marred the strong fortifications of the levee.

“Steady,” she repeated, always keeping a very close eye on the progress of the enemy. They were coming slowly but steadily. The heavy tall causeways, though built onto a wheeled base, were ungainly and apparently hard to move. The Tarina smiled to herself. ‘The Knights are not suited for siege warfare,’ she thought with satisfaction. ‘It plays against their strengths…as does fighting on foot.’

“Have the oil ready,” she shouted to those defenders near her, vaguely aware of Samantha shouting orders to the east and Captain Huntley doing the same closer to the gates. She wondered if three women had ever led the defense of a city before…she thought not, but wouldn’t have bet against it.

Tarina Marissa Grace watched as an elderly man picked up a clay pot filled with oil. The pot was about the size of a child’s head and sealed carefully with a plug of beeswax. General Bock had the townspeople fill hundreds of such pots in anticipation of an attack. The Tarina admired such preparations. It would make her job much easier.

Grace was surprised at the relative calm of the city’s defenders, most of who looked to be civilians and many appeared far too old or young to be in the fight. But they watched the vaunted Temple Knights steady approach with surprising composure, as if they didn’t truly believe the enemy wished to breach their walls and kill everyone inside.

The Knights and their siege weapons were still over a hundred yards away when arrows began to streak by overhead. They flew over the walls in flaming waves, attempting to engulf the oncoming siege weapons or any men they hit in fire. Tarina Grace was impressed; the archers were well coordinated and accurate. Unfortunately however, the Knights were very heavily armored and all carried light weight but solid shields. The arrows had little effect, but the Tarina did see a small number of the enemy fall. But as the Knights drew closer the arrows flew at them with considerably less warning and more fell. The airborne missiles became more effective the closer the enemy moved, but still the Tarina doubted they would have a major impact on the battle.

“Prepare the oil!” Tarina Grace yelled and the order was echoed by Captain Huntley and Samantha. The causeways, over twenty of them, were very close and seemed to grow taller as they drew nearer, then suddenly and with little warning they began to drop. They fell haphazardly, not all together, each plummeting to earth as they reached the edge of the protective ditch. Cheers erupted from the Knights as the makeshift bridges slammed into place. They spanned the ditch easily, though Grace noted that one was lowered too early and came up short of the far bank, its end lost in the slowly moving water of the channel. Another, farther to the east, actually banged loudly against the wall and stuck, sloping up at a relatively steep angle.

Once the causeways were in place, the tempo of the Knight’s attack increased dramatically…as did the pulse of the defenders.

When the causeways were down the Knights began to stream across, screaming in defiance. Unperturbed, the defenders on the walls began to fling their clay pots filled with oil almost immediately. The aim and courage of the townspeople surprised Tarina Grace, though their ability to throw the pots was unimpeded by any enemy archers at the moment. Only a few hundred soldiers among the Knights sported bows and their arrows did little to give the Massi defenders pause. They hurled the pots with abandon and only a few missed their targets. Most of the pots hit and shattered, drenching the thick wooden bridges and the men who were crossing them with light, but highly flammable oil, which was quickly ignited by a shower of flaming arrows. The battle field was soon covered with thick, black smoke and the sounds of screaming, burning men.

Tarina Grace’s view of the action was soon impeded by the thick smoke but it was easy enough to tell that the causeways in her vicinity were now impassable. Already in her area many of the enemy soldiers that attempted to carry ladders across the causeways during the initial moments of the attack were either dead or seriously wounded, so she moved quickly along the wall farther to the west toward the main gate. She’d not gone very far before she came upon a mass of men and women in a panic, fleeing in every direction. From what she could gather someone dropped a pot of oil at the base of the wall, and now the entire area was awash with flames. A couple of men had already attempted to quench the flames with water but to their surprise found that this only enlarged the fire.

“Dirt!” The Tarina yelled over the noise of the confusion. “You must use dirt!” She grabbed the nearest man who she seemed to be in charge of the group and repeated the orders to him.

“You must hurry,” Grace said, but the man shook his head.

“We’re lost,” he shouted back. “They’re already over the wall,” he added and pointed farther in the direction the Tarina was headed. The man started toward a ladder and the town below but she grabbed him by the shirt and shook him slightly…he was very large.

“You stay and see to the wall…you stay on the wall. I will deal with anyone who makes it over,” she growled then without looking back to see if her orders were being carried out she ran across the burning section of wall. The heat was intense and she was forced to throw her arms up to protect her face, but once passed she quickly headed toward the west.

Within moments she came across a section of the wall that was indeed under attack. The men and women up top were fighting bravely; though it was clear the Knights outmatched them. Only a handful of Massi fighters were holding their own and most of these sported long pikes with which they skillfully kept the Knights at bay, but one…the woman, Cyndar Huntley was fighting with amazing skill and ferocity, especially since she was still nursing her injuries. As Tarina Grace pushed through a crowd of archers who were leaning over the walls firing steadily on the enemy below, she noticed that Cyndar was indeed fighting with both arms, though the kali in her left was only being used for defense…blocking and deflecting the blows coming her way.

Once passed the archers Grace saw why the ladders were having success in the area, the causeway in this section had not been fired, whether it was covered with oil she did not know.

“Oil!” She shouted to those below. “We need oil now!” She didn’t have the luxury of waiting to see if her order was being acted upon by those below because a pair of pike men nearly backed her off the wall as they retreated from a very aggressive Knight. He was slashing wildly in an attempt to clear a space for more of his fellow soldiers to gain access to the top.

“Move aside and watch my back,” Grace ordered and slipped between the two pike men, one of which was actually a middle aged woman, but despite her age and gender she handled her weapon fairly competently. They both made way. The Knight though clearly experienced and very brave, was not a Tar and it showed. He died within moments of his engagement with the Tarina.

“Get some oil up here,” Grace said shouting back to those below. She ignored the looks of awe in those near her…she was used to worship from commoners when it came to her fighting skills. In her opinion, commoners were easily impressed.

Tarina Grace leaned over the wall and frowned. There were already half a dozen ladders pinned up against the wall, but as she moved forward, a pair of pike men managed to send one ladder sliding down the face of the outer wall. About a dozen or so Knights were already on the top of the wall attempting to clear as much space as possible for the others who were climbing behind them. They were succeeding nicely and only Captain Huntley kept them from pushing farther to the west. Two Knights actually jumped to the ground below and tried to move to the main gate but they were cut off by a host of strong armed pike men.

Tarina Grace however, could not focus for long on the battle below because three Knights moved forward to intercept her. They approached somewhat cautiously having recognized her gray and blue robes, but they attacked as a group, which made them very dangerous, even for a Tar. Thankfully, the rampart was narrow which hindered their group effort, even still Grace had to ward off several close calls before she finally created an opening and stabbed completely through the left arm of one Knight and then sliced into the neck of his companion. The third Knight quickly retreated to where another soldier was climbing over the wall.

“Oil!” The Tarina yelled again to those behind her. She was about to yell again but then she heard pots shattering on the causeway below.

“Whoommphh!” Fire and smoke instantly belched high into the air and the Tarina knew that repeating the order was now unnecessary.

Both Knights in front of her were backing away slowly, avoiding the fight for the moment, but behind them Captain Huntley was being pressed to her limits and needed help quickly. Grace rushed the two in front of her and they panicked. One slashed forward and actually cut through the Tarina’s sleeve with the tip of his right kali before he lost his hand at the wrist. The man screamed, unnerving his fellow Knight who died because of the distraction, a kali through his heart. Grace then killed the wounded Knight and shoved him over the wall and with a quick glance saw another half dozen or so Knights were still on the ladders, climbing up swiftly to get away from the growing fire below. She killed the first, but couldn’t wait for more.

“Keep them off the top of the wall,” she yelled to the pike men, who were quickly repopulating the area then she turned and ran toward Huntley, who was down. She was lying on her back and frantically holding off the blades that were aimed at her prone body with the skill of the desperate. She even managed to slice through the lower leg of one man just as Tarina Grace rushed into the fight. Grace killed another but as she did Cyndar took a long sword through her side. Unfortunately for the Knight the tip of his weapon drove through the waist of the Massi Captain and deep into the wooden rampart and was momentarily stuck. Cyndar cried out and slashed at the hand holding the sword but missed. She did not have time to try again before the Tarina dispatched the unsuspecting man.

“Aaaaaggghhh,” Cyndar cried out, as she instinctively tried to move away from the weapon that impaled her, only dimly aware of the fact that the bitch from Noble was kneeling at her side.

“Be still,” the Tarina ordered as the Captain looked up at her with wild eyes. Grace examined the wound for just a moment. The sword penetrated only about an inch into her side, nasty but probably not lethal. The Tarina stood and quickly pulled the sword free of the planking and out of the injured woman’s side.

Cyndar screamed again and her hands immediately went to the wound.

“The wound is superficial, only through skin and muscle” Grace explained quickly to the Captain. “Get below and see to it,” she added then turned back to face more Knights as they managed to top the wall.

Three had made it successfully and were currently backing away from over a dozen pike men who were advancing like a hedgehog, spear points bristling. Grace leaned over the wall and saw the final causeway burning nicely, of the remaining Knights she saw nothing but suspected they had fallen to arrow fire for there were a number of dead at the base of the wall.

The clang of metal on metal brought her attention back to the fight before her and she killed two of the Knights backing her way before they were even aware of the greater threat coming at them from behind. The pike men dispatched the third with a rush of spear points.

“Huuuurrrraaaahhh!” the yell went up from the men as the last of the Knights fell. The Tarina glanced about but the immediate area was free of any threat. She looked down toward the main gate. The Knights managed to get a ram nearly across the causeway but it and the bridge below were now burning brightly. As far as she could see the gate was not under threat, nor could she see any problems beyond.

Making a quick decision, she bounded down a ladder to the ground and headed back to the section of wall that was engulfed with flames, but by the time she arrived the fire seemed to be contained, however a large section of wall was now in ashes.

“Huuuurrrraaaaahhhh!” She heard the shouts coming from atop the wall.

“What news?” She called loudly to a smiling Sergeant.

“The Knights are retreating from the attack,” he shouted down to her. “We’ve beaten them back.”

The Tarina nodded and continued down the wall inspecting the troops and the fortifications until she neared the spot where she’d initially climbed atop. Up ahead she saw a group of archers huddled close together directly below the ramparts, and when Tarina Grace worked her way through the crowd she saw Samantha lying in a heap, covered in dirt and ash.

X

On Gwaynn’s orders Captain Gaston departed Lynndon with slightly less than three thousand tough and eager cavalry men. He was happy to go…Lynndon was now a place of death and the smell was nearly overwhelming, but the Plateau’s defenses were secure since many of the peasants from the finger decided to stay and see the fight to the end. The population on the border with the Deutzani had grown tired of the constant threat to their country and felt compelled to fight back. Massi it seemed, was growing angry…very angry. There were now well over five thousand men and women camped around Bert’s up on the Plateau.

According to Speaker Sarbeth, Gwaynn and the rest of the Massi army were perhaps fifty miles to the southwest and drifting slowly toward the Scar. They were retreating cautiously before the Palmerrio, not wanting to engage until their cavalry arrived. Gwaynn was mindful of the Scar at his back, though they still had nearly twenty miles of open land in which to operate before being trapped against it. Gaston quickly decided to head straight south first before angling toward the west. The cavalry moved rapidly over the wide landscape, and ate up the miles, eager to join the army once more. The Plateau was ideal for horse warfare. It was flat, open and seemingly endless with few natural obstacles, though the landscape did contain the occasional gully, stream or wash.

Toward late afternoon on the first day out of Lynndon, a lone horseman suddenly appeared, riding fast toward them from the west. There was a bit of scrambling before the horseman was recognized as Patia Hawken, a long range scout. She rode through the ranks at top speed then pulled to a hard stop before Captain Gaston. He couldn’t help but smile at the eager young girl, who was no more than fifteen. She might be young and slight, but she was the fastest damned rider they had and a better than average tracker.

“It’s…it’s…the...Palmerrio cavalry,” she said while trying to catch her breath. Her face was flushed with excitement and from the exertion of riding hard, and her hair was damp with sweat. Gaston noticed she had little beads of perspiration running down the sides of her face leaving trails of clean skin that contrasted greatly with dust covered whole.

“Where?” He asked alarmed but with equal excitement. Patia was still breathing heavily and was gazing at him with her large hazel eyes. Suddenly she smiled.

“Ten miles due west…they’ve stopped for the night,” she said still gasping slightly. “They’ve stopped in a wash, near the center channel…looked to be the trickle of water that brought them in.”

“A wash? How many? How deep is the wash?” Gaston fired at her before she had time to even formulate one answer.

But when he finally had all the information he could glean from her, he smiled, moved his horse forward and grabbed her hand. Patia gazed up into her commander’s eyes and suddenly her heart was pounding all the more fiercely in her chest.

“Well done Patia!” He said and squeezed her hand so hard she felt pain, but she did not pull away. Captain Gaston was her dream. She answered his questions as quickly as she could and felt him squeeze her hand again, this time a bit softer. “Well done,” he repeated then released her and though her hand felt relief, her heart felt only loss. “Get to the rear and grab a fresh horse, rest while you can…I’ll have need of you later.” He smiled at her once more and Patia grinned back like a fool…but at the moment she was a happy fool. She urged her tired mount back along the long line of the Massi formation, happy and exhausted…and suddenly very hungry.

Gaston watched her go for a moment then turned back to Captain Kerr and Captain Marcum. With the Deutzani threat gone, and Lynndon now under the watch of a mass of civilian soldiers, Marcum insisted on joining up even though his skills on a horse were suspect.

“Sergeant Birdsong can handle Lynndon…I think the town’s days of war are numbered in any case,” Marcum explained, but Gaston did not argue…he was glad to have his oldest friend along for the ride.

“Four thousand!” Gaston exclaimed excitedly…this must be the main contingent of Palmerrio cavalry…if they could surprise them…

“Sergeant! Pull in the patrols…and send another scout up ahead, have him take Sarbeth, and tell Speaker Wynth to join us. We don’t want to get caught unaware,” Gaston ordered. “Let’s move forward carefully…I want to hit them right at dusk.”

The ride across the Plateau was easy and uneventful. The afternoon sky was crowded with puffy white clouds but showed no hint of rain, and a cool breeze was blowing from the north. Scouts from all directions reported the way clear. When they were perhaps a mile out from the wash the column of men and horses came to a stop and Speaker Wynth slowly went through the process of contacting Speaker Sarbeth.

“The Palmerrio are camping down in the wash, spread out to maybe a quarter of a mile; they’re horses are corralled in the center.” Sarbeth reported through the bubble once contact was made. “The wash is perhaps two hundred feet across and relatively shallow, but that the Palmerrio have no scouts on the eastern side…but there are a number of scouts roaming to the west.”

Gaston smiled broadly at Kerr and Marcum. “They are hunting for Gwaynn and the army.”

Kerr smiled back but Marcum just scowled. “Fools for not watching all flanks,” he spat. Marcum had little tolerance for carelessness and stupidity.

“Yes…what threat could possibly come from the east?” Gaston answered sarcastically, his mood growing increasingly bright.

“We attack in three sections,” Gaston said, eager for the fight and suddenly all business. “I’ll take the center; Captain Kerr, you take the right and Marcum will take the left.”

Gaston noticed Captain Kerr’s look of hesitation, and nearly smiled. “Captain Marcum may sit a horse like a whore after a record night, but he’s the best soldier in the cavalry…and that would include me!”

“Yes Sir,” Kerr answered, a touch embarrassed, but he smiled nonetheless.

“I’m no whore,” Marcum grumbled.

“See to Sergeant Pearson,” Gaston replied, reaching out and gripping the older man’s hands firmly. “He’ll show you to your men. We move forward at a walk and wait for my signal to charge…be careful, be quiet.”

The two men looked at one another for a long moment, Marcum wondering at the miracle that created Gaston the man from Gaston the boy. It happened so fast…but then war had a way of speeding up the process.

The Massi lines stretched for nearly a half a mile with only slight gaps between formations, and unbelievably they were still undetected when they increased their speed to a trot. The sun was just kissing the mountains to the west, lighting up the clouds in a spectacular display of reds, purples and oranges. No one noticed. At a half a mile out the trot became a cantor…still no alarm sounded from the enemy camp. Finally, a lone soldier on the eastern bank, looking for a private place to relieve his bladder, spotted the Massi horseman. He shouted a warning but by then the Massi were thundering down toward him at a gallop. And though a moment before the Palmerrio soldier was nearly dancing with need, the urge suddenly left him. He spun and headed rapidly back down the bank, his only thought now was getting to his weapons and climbing on his mount.

The center with Gaston broke instantly into a full out charge, shouting out in triumph and the left and right wings quickly matched the pace. They hit the eastern side of the wash without a single arrow being fired by the enemy and when Gaston himself reached the shallow bank he saw why. Every Palmerrio in sight was running, panic stricken, toward the large herd of horses corralled in the center of the gulley near a small, slowly moving stream. Without hesitation Captain Gaston and the bulk of those in his vicinity instinctively charged the enemy horses. They were the key, deny the Palmerrio their mounts and they were doomed. The Massi knew it and the Palmerrio knew it.

As Gaston and his group charged the enemy horses a few brave Palmerrio still afoot stopped to fight, but they were quickly cut down, lanced or trampled for their bravery and as more and more Massi horseman cleared the bank the fight in the wash became a massacre. The Palmerrio soldiers, like their Massi counterparts were trained to fight on horseback. On foot and taken by surprise, they were disorganized, unprepared and for all practical purposes unable to put up any kind of stiff resistance. However in all battles, no matter how one sided, there is death and injury on both sides, but as the Palmerrio cavalrymen melted into the sand they took surprisingly few Massi with them. It was over before it was completely dark and less than an hour from the charge no Palmerrio was left alive in the wash and very few escaped out into the empty Plateau.

ǂ

“How soon before the Rhondono are ready to sail?” Hothgaard asked through the Speaker Nadler. He needed the siege troops and the engineers of King Donnis even though he thought of the Rhondono’s army as second class.

‘With the support of the Temple Knights, they will be enough,’ the Captain thought.

“We should be ready in three days,” the High King answered, concerned by his Captain’s demeanor. The Captain of the Knights had never asked for aid before, but then they were seldom asked to lay siege to a city alone and without support.

“We?”

“I’ll be coming to Massi as well,” King Mastoc said without a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“That’s not advisable M’lord,” Hothgaard answered, alarmed. “The plains of Massi are still unsecured. The Massi cavalry are roaming about the lands.”

“You have not eliminated them?”

“No M’lord. We cannot lay siege to Manse and ride all over the countryside hunting the Massi rabble,” Hothgaard answered, hoping to placate his King.

“I will be coming,” the King announced confidently. “I will have the entire Rhondono army to protect me until we reach Manse. Massi must fall…quickly.”

“As you wish,” Hothgaard answered and a sudden feeling of dread swept through his body.

“And the siege…it is going well I presume?”

Hothgaard paused, reluctant to tell his King of the recent fiasco. “The defenses are strong, but we nearly breeched the walls this morning. It will not be long before the city is ours.”

“And yet you ask for aid,” came the King’s voice through the ether, the doubt and suspicion plain in his voice.

“The Massi have proven problematic,” Hothgaard answered, only briefly perturbed by the King’s tone.

“Problematic?”

“We’ve lost contact with the Deutzani and the Massi cavalry are exceedingly well trained,” Hothgaard answered.

There was a long silence, one which Captain Hothgaard eventually broke.

“Which is why I would advise you to stay on the King’s Island.”

“I’ll be leaving in three days…with the Rhondono army,” the King answered adamantly. “I would appreciate better news upon my arrival.”

Hothgaard shrugged but only his Speaker could see the gesture.

“We’ll make another attempt to breech the walls of Manse in two days time. If we are successful the city should be in our hands before you land,” he answered.

“And you are sure the city is the key?”

“Yes,” Hothgaard repeated with a sigh. The High King seemed fixated on Solarii, the former capital, located high up on the finger of Massi. “Arnot was foolish to attempt to defend Solarii and the surrounding peninsula…his son seems not so inclined. The way to Solarii has been left open and undefended. Manse is the key to holding the country; from there you control access to both the plains and the Plateau.”

“And Lynndon?”

“Yes, but Lynndon can be a bottle neck on both levels…let the Deutzani have Lynndon,” Hothgaard replied. “If you can persuade King Weldon to attack and crush Gwaynn and his army, then we could hit Manse from two sides. As it is, Gwaynn will not push too far south…not with the Knights at his back.”

“I’ll speak with him,” King Mastoc answered, “and I’ll be leaving in three days time.”

“Very well,” Hothgaard answered then sat quietly and tried to convince himself that everything would be all right. Even so, a feeling of doom spread over him like a warm, wet blanket. ‘More like a death shroud,’ he thought and with a wave dismissed Speaker Nadler.

ǂ

Tarina Grace moved down from the ramparts where she was supervising the repair work on the section of wall that caught fire during the last attack. The work was going well and moving along quickly. Every defender expected another attack while they were vulnerable, so motivating the townsfolk to work fast was not a problem, but the Temple Knights remained camped quietly in the distance. It was a mystery to Grace why the Knights did not immediately make another attempt to take the city walls. She expected them to come the night of the first attack, once the fires died out, but they did not. Now she was beginning to suspect the Knights had some new strategy in mind, something unsuspected, something deadly.

She knew Manse was vulnerable and she believed strongly that it would fall during the next attack. She absentmindedly walked back through the growing town, trying to think of a strategy to save it from destruction. The Massi people were braving the constant threat well, and many smiled at her encouragingly as she passed.

‘It would be a shame to lose the place,’ she thought. ‘The people of Massi are working hard to rebuild.’

When she reached the edge of the Scar, just before the bridge that led to the Plateau above, she veered to the west and moved among the hospital tents. The day was growing cooler; fall had arrived at last. It was not a good thing. Her body was getting old and didn’t handle the cold as it once did; she just hoped this war would be over before the full force of winter hit.

“Tarina!” Doctor Linkler called out as he emerged from a nearby tent. He immediately joined her, walking in stride and smiling at her as if she was a very good friend.

“You are preparing for the move?” She asked and his face became grave.

“It will not be easy to move some of the seriously injured,” the doctor replied.

Grace frowned. “It’s less than twenty miles and the Plateau is perfectly flat,” the Tarina insisted. “And you must admit, if the city falls…and I believe it will; the wounded would be far better off in Colchester than here.”

“Yes,” the doctor agreed tentatively. “I cannot argue that they would be better off in the short term, but if Manse falls will any of us be safe?”

“Oh Manse will fall, unless Prince Gwaynn can quickly defeat the Palmerrio and reinforce the town with his fighting men.”

Linkler remained quiet, resigned to the fact that he would be moving along with all those able to travel.

“And Samantha?” Grace asked as they walked into the main hospital tent.

“She is awake, sore but doing better,” the doctor said. “It was a nasty fall, but she sustained no broken bones, and the baby seems to have come through no worse for wear.”

Grace spotted Captain Cyndar almost immediately although for the first time the Tarina actually was able to see the woman’s face, which was finally without bandages. As she walked closer, Grace realized that the Captain was a truly beautiful woman. Her hair was dark brown, nearly black, and hung to her shoulders in soft waves; she had dark eyes to match her hair and a flawless, creamy complexion. But she sported a new scar that ran along the line of her jaw on the left side of her face. It was her only flaw…but as Grace studied the woman she got the distinct impression that Cyndar was proud of her new look. Of course, it was not a rare thing for male soldiers to take a certain morbid pride in their battle scars…but a woman?

Cyndar was currently sitting on the edge of a bed, topless, her arms up in the air, revealing a pair of large, well formed breasts. She was apparently unashamed by the nature of her situation. The Captain seemed relaxed and unaware of the attention she was garnering, even though every male eye within the large tent was now glued to her semi-clad figure. A young nurse was busily wrapping a tight bandage around her midsection. There was only a tiny spot of red on the otherwise white linen.

“You are well?” Tarina Grace asked, and she eyed the bandages higher up on the woman’s right shoulder.

Cyndar’s eyes stayed sharp but she nodded. “I will be able to return to the wall,” she said with an added look of determination.

The Tarina studied the young woman for a moment. ‘She would have made a fine Tar,’ she thought and wondered how Noble missed such an opportunity.

“I’d like you to lead the wounded and any civilians who wish to leave, out of Manse,” Grace replied, deciding to get right to the point. She did not believe the woman before her would be swayed by pretty words and arguments.

Cyndar frowned and her eyes flashed. “I will stay.” She answered bluntly.

“You’re to be commended on your courage,” Grace replied. “And you’re a fine fighter, the best Manse has…even wounded, but the town will fall and the wounded need to be moved before that happens.”

“Manse will not fall,” Cyndar retorted, slightly insulted and wondered at her own misplaced loyalty.

“It will,” Grace insisted. “And when it does there will be no time to save the wounded. They need to be moved to Colchester…we’ve already contacted the magistrate there and they’re preparing for the influx.”

“I will stay,” Cyndar repeated and could not keep the threat of violence out of her eyes.

Tarina Grace caught and recognized the look. “I would not ask this of you if you were not among the wounded…and I’ve had the same discussion with Samantha Fultan. Prince Gwaynn would not thank me if either of you were sacrificed for a lost cause.”

“Samantha,” Cyndar whispered with a faraway look in her eyes. “The baby!”

“The baby’s fine,” Grace told her quickly, mistaking

Cyndar’s hope for concern.

“Samantha has agreed?” Cyndar asked, surprised.

“Yes…she is brave and led her archers well, but she is with child and beginning to grow heavy. I cannot look after you both while the Knights storm the walls…it’s too much,” Grace added and noted the slight change in expression on the woman’s face.

“Manse will fall?” Cyndar asked, apparently on the edge of being convinced.

Grace nodded. “We may hold through one more attack. If the Knights had attacked in the night, the city would already be in their hands.”

Cyndar sat silent for a time as the nurse finished her bindings, then she stood and gingerly put on her shirt, hiding her breasts. Grace could almost hear the groans of disappointment coming from the men around her, but she ignored their distress and concentrated on Huntley.

“We need you to lead the wounded…they need their Captain,” Grace added glancing to doctor Linkler, who nodded and gave a slight, encouraging smile.

“Alright, I’ll go to Colchester…and heal,” Cyndar conceded, her thoughts now dwelling on the bitch with the red hair. “And then I will return…even if Manse has fallen,” she added dramatically.

“Good,” Grace said and reached out and gently rubbed the woman’s shoulder. It took all of Cyndar’s self control to allow the touch. “The doctor believes he’ll be ready to depart by tomorrow morning.”

“Very well,” Cyndar said. “I’ve some business to attend before we leave,” she added and sauntered from the room. Grace couldn’t help but notice that every male eye in the tent followed the woman and she sighed lightly, envying the woman’s youth and beauty. It had been a long while since she could command the eyes of men.

ǂ

The rain fell hard and straight on the Plateau and the sky was a flat gray that spread from horizon to horizon. King Weldon stood beneath the awning of his private tent and watched the downpour. He ignored the occasional soldier who walked by, head down against the driving assault from above.

“I should rouse the men,” General Sanchez said from just behind his King. Weldon said nothing as the Speaker pushed past, the hood of his cloak pulled tightly over his head. Without hesitation the man headed off into the rain, eager to be away…not from his King so much as the three Executioners who now accompanied him.

“Any word from the cavalry?” Tar Giodart asked as he emerged from the tent, amused by the Speaker’s obvious fear of him. Tar Rhinehold and Tarina de Croix stopped just behind in the flap of the tent.

“I still think we should wait until the weather clears,” de Croix commented, though she fell silent as Giodart turned to stare at her.

“You heard the High King,” Weldon stated though he did not turn.

“No…there’s been no word from Captain Bradley,” Sanchez spoke up, answering the question which was truly on all their minds. “But I gave him explicit instructions to circle about the Massi position and wait for our attack…he’s never failed me.”

“Well let’s hope he continues his good work,” Giodart said as he finally pulled his eyes away from the Tarina.

“Yes,” Weldon agreed. “I’m sure he will. When do you expect the cavalry to be in position?”

“The Massi have stopped their slow retreat before us and are camped peacefully only a mile to the north…I’d say Bradley has already completed the circle and is in the enemy rear as we speak,” Sanchez put in confidently. “From the lack of reaction from the Massi, I’d say they’ve gone undetected.”

“Then we must not delay,” Giodart replied and held one hand out from beneath the awning to test the temperature of the rain.

“In this rain?” de Croix grumbled softly.

“Yes…in this rain,” Tar Giodart answered growing eager…what was a little rain. “The Massi will not expect it.”

Weldon remained quiet for a spell, eyeing the gray sky above. It promised nothing but more rain…perhaps for days. “Very well,” he finally said. “Muster the men.”

ǂ

“na Gall tells me the Palmerrio are preparing to attack,” Monde said her eyes locking with Tar Kostek’s. Suddenly in the midst of war, she felt safe; she felt as if the Travelers might well survive this conflict.

They all sat around several small tables which were pushed together, save for Tarina re N’dori, who sat off in a corner, her eyes closed in silent contemplation.

“In this weather?” Saran asked, clearly surprised.

“This late in the day?” William asked equally astonished.

“It’s a sound move,” Gwaynn said. He sat near the center of the group with Vio on one side and Tar Kostek on the other, “though risky. Have we heard from Captain Gaston?”

Monde shook her head. “I can attempt to contact Sarbeth.”

“We need to know,” Lonogan confirmed with a nod. Monde returned it and moved off toward the rear of the tent.

“We need to get the men ready,” Prince Phillip said then moved to the opening of the tent and spoke softly to one of the Toranado guards that followed him everywhere.

“The weather is a blessing. It will hide our presence,” interjected Jinja, speaking of the Tars and students from Noble. Gwaynn shook his head at the excitement in the young man’s voice, and was suddenly worried for them all.

“Yes Jinja,” Kostek said softly. “The rain will surely hide us, but that may not be a good thing.”

“There are not many ordinary soldiers who would be willing to face a Tar,” Endid explained to his student. “Many battles in the past were avoided just by the presence of the Tars of Noble…if they can’t see us there may be unnecessary bloodshed.”

“You’re clear on where you will be in the coming battle?” Kostek asked the students, but looked up as Monde rushed over.

“Gaston?” Lonogan asked, though he truly wanted to ask about Jess. She volunteered to travel forward with the scouts and it worried him. The weather did not help.

Monde shook her head. “na Gall. The Palmerrio are on the move!”

There was a great rumbling of chairs as everyone stood and began to head toward the opening of the tent. Gwaynn reached out and grabbed Vio by the arm before they made it to the exit.

“Will you stay in the rear and protect the Travelers with Bethany?” He asked though he knew the answer.

Vio smiled sadly. “You care for me?”

Gwaynn frowned. “You know I do.”

“Ah but you have never looked at me they way you look at Samantha Fultan,” she said and abruptly started to leave the tent. Gwaynn tightened his grip.

“I’m training to be a Tarina…I will be a Tarina,” Vio said spinning back to face him, “and sometimes a Tarina must kill!”

They stood looking at one another for a moment as people rushed past them, apparently unaware of the drama, at least until the Solitary re N’dori came near, laughing softly.

“Come Gwaynn of Massi…we three will fight together,” she said and put her arm affectionately around Vio’s waist. They left the tent as a trio, Gwaynn with a wry smile, thinking of his other Solitary friend, Tar Nev and wondering if the man was projecting and watching at this very moment. Gwaynn hoped he was…and felt better for the thought.

The rain was falling straight down out of the heavens as if in a hurry to get to the ground, which had long ago turned into a wet, muddy mess around the camp.

“The footing will be nightmarish,” Lee Brandt said speaking loudly as he walked behind Gwaynn and Bock. They were all soaked, with water dripping from their hair. There was activity all around them as soldiers prepared for battle, but Gwaynn was happy and gratified that no one appeared to be panicked by the approaching army.

He picked up his pace until he was walking side by side with Tabernas and Prince Phillip.

“I’d like the Toranado to be on the far left,” he said.

“The left?” Phillip repeated surprised, but Tabernas just smiled and nodded.

“You would have us attempt to circle and push the Palmerrio toward the creek,” he stated and Gwaynn nodded.

“We still have no word from Gaston. I’ll need the Toranado to press the Palmerrio…trap them against Rose Creek if possible.”

Rose Creek, though normally a nearly empty gully, was now swollen with rain water, which was moving fast toward the Scar. The creek would run along the western side of the battlefield guarding both armies against any flanking maneuvers from that direction…though of course the Palmerrio would still have to be wary of the any movements initiated by the Travelers.

Phillip nodded then, understanding and was suddenly awed by the young Massi King’s strategic mind. Everything he did on the battlefield seemed simple enough, though at times unconventional…actually often times it seemed obvious, but only once the strategy was explained. Gwaynn had a way of breaking down the terrain and using it and his army in the most effective way. Phillip was suddenly glad he did not have to face the Massi in battle.

The Tars Myson and Halstad would be positioned to support Captain Lee Brandt and the Massi heavy infantry in the center. Their presence would do much to strengthen their lines. Gwaynn, Vio and re N’dori would be on the Massi left holding the gap in the lines that would develop as the Toranado pushed out and attempted to encircle the enemy. Tar Kostek, Endid and the rest of the students would be on the far right, near the creek.

In the rain, the effectiveness of the archers on both sides would be diminished so Gwaynn had instructed Captain Hahn to push out even farther to the left and support the Toranado with halberds rather than arrows. Kommidi and his horsemen would be positioned in the rear to guard against encirclement if the Palmerrio cavalry suddenly appeared. They would also be in a good position to offer support in case any part of the lines began to unravel.

The Travelers would not be used in the coming battle unless everything went horribly wrong, and would be tucked safely in the rear, much to Bock’s pleasure and peace of mind. It was bad enough sending Jess out with the scouts, he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his wits about him if she was in the heart of the battle. He felt a new appreciation for Gwaynn and Samantha; somehow both were able to function quite well on the battlefield despite the anxiety for the other’s well being.

The army moved nearly a quarter of a mile from camp and took up position; the soldiers did not have long to wait before the sounds of the approaching Palmerrio could be heard, though in the rain it was several minutes before the shape of the enemy could be distinguished.

na Gall and three scouts suddenly appeared just in front of Bock and Gwaynn. Lonogan’s heart soared and he did not even try to refrain from smiling.

“Anything from Gaston?” Bock asked moving forward to stand very close to the Traveler na Gall.

She shook her head, the pupils of her eyes dilated with excitement and fear. “No…I will try to get word to you if Sarbeth contacts us.

“Get to the rear,” Gwaynn said abruptly. “Look for Bethany. She’ll look after all the Travelers. Trust her…she’s young but very good,” he added and na Gall nodded. Bock however, kept her from obeying the command. He pulled the Traveler into his arms and kissed her fiercely. When they separated he caught the raised eyebrows of Captain Brandt, but did not wait for his comment; instead he nodded to na Gall and allowed her to move off through the rain and away from the frontlines.

ǂ

The rain was falling lightly when they finally pulled away from Manse, a great train of horses, wagons and walking wounded.

Doctor Linkler, who was riding toward the rear, initially insisted Samantha ride in a wagon, but after catching the fierce look she shot him, he’d backed down almost immediately. Samantha got the distinct impression that he was a bit afraid of her. It was a novel thought…a man afraid of her, but then ever since her injury men were treating her differently. No longer did they simply pander to her thoughts and ideas of war…now they listened, now they showed respect for everything she said. It was an empowering sensation, one she enjoyed, but one that she would have gladly given up for the return of her left hand.

She rode near the front of the column still slightly surprised that she’d agreed to abandon Manse and the fight. But the fall from the wall had frightened her, frightened her badly. In all her life she had never experienced such fear, not when her family was killed, not when her own head was on the block, for this was a deep aching fear, not for herself but for another. It was fear for the baby that was rapidly growing inside her. And Samantha found that she could not fight this fear, she could only obey her instincts, instincts that would hopefully keep the fear at bay. The baby had to survive! This thought was the driving force behind her existence now. Every waking thought, every dream and whisper bouncing about her brain was now about the baby and the baby’s safety. How the obsession started she did not know, all she knew was that the baby, her baby, Gwaynn’s baby, must survive and if she had stayed behind in Manse…somehow she knew…if she stayed, the baby would die. And if the baby died…she would die. Somehow the two facts were now hopelessly entwined.

“Your scar will fade over time,” Samantha heard Emm tell Cyndar. The two were riding directly ahead, while the ever-faithful Cobb rode by Samantha’s side. He left the army behind with Gwaynn’s blessing, for though the man was somewhat simple in the mind, his devotion to Samantha could not be questioned, and Gwaynn knew that he would do anything to protect her…anything at all.

“I like my scar,” Cyndar replied, thinking how she would relish showing it to Tar Nacht before she killed him.

Emm was about to reply when quite suddenly the skies opened up and the rain fell heavily on them. And it kept falling at a hard steady pace for the entire five hours it took the medical train to reach Colchester. Everyone was tired, soaked and in ill humor, but the people of Colchester were as accommodating as ever. Despite the weather, nearly the entire town rolled out to meet the Massi wounded, and almost everyone pitched in as they quickly worked to set up the hospital camp just north of town.

“Of course you will stay with us,” stated Anda Botnick, Colchester’s magistrate. “My wife, Raisa will be very excited to see you once more,” he added his eyes drifting from Samantha’s growing belly to her mutilated arm.

Samantha was too tired and wet to care. “I would love to…”

“Come…come,” the magistrate said to the girl and silently wondered if the baby growing in her belly was conceived in his home. It was a thought he would be sure to mention to Raisa…imagine it…a future King…created in their very home. It was all dreadfully exciting.

“I will come,” the hulking Cobb said and for a moment Anda thought perhaps the Prince and this woman were no longer bound together.

“Cobb…” Samantha started and Anda was immediately reassured by her tone. This was definitely a servant…or guard…he was no lover.

“He can sleep downstairs in the parlor…” Anda offered quickly, then looked Cobb over more thoroughly, “or perhaps on the porch if the wind stays down.”

Cobb nodded happily and followed behind.

Cyn de Baard, who was standing across the street just inside the double doors of the town barn, watched as Samantha moved off toward the middle of town.

‘Tonight…tonight will be the night of your death.’ de Baard smiled, warmed by the thought. She would kill the Fultan girl then head south toward the Aleria Pass, which was wide open now. Once across the Scar Mountains she would head north toward Eno, and then to Sinis and Nacht. Of Gwaynn…Gwaynn was lost to her now, even though her first and only mission was his death…but that was now beyond her. She shook her head…he may have always been beyond her. His skill was unbelievable and now with a host of Tars in the fight…the mission was doomed. But what did it matter. Now there were only two people who mattered to her…two deaths; first the Fultan girl and then High Tar Nacht.

Once she was High Tarina…why she would have the power to kill anyone…anyone she so desired.

Samantha, unaware of these thoughts and schemes, felt safe without Gwaynn at her side for the first time in many months. She was surprised to find that she was happy to be away from the action, away from the fighting and had not realized how living in constant danger was draining her peace of mind.

She was very tired and it was nice getting out of her wet clothes. She would have been happy to crawl directly into bed…the same bed she’d shared so long ago with Gwaynn, but when Raisa drew a hot bath, she could not resist and pulled her night clothes from her body eagerly, but with some difficulty. Dressing and undressing with just one hand was much harder than one would suppose, but Raisa stepped forward to help without being asked.

“Two months, I would say,” Raisa said, happily looking Samantha’s naked form over closely. “Your belly is showing nicely…but I think on a young girl like you it would show late. Yes…I’d say two more months and then you have yourself a young King.”

Samantha blushed as the older woman actually walked up to her and placed one hand on the small of her back and rubbed her stomach with the other.

“Ah…he will be big…strong. You will see,” Raisa said and with gentle pressure led Samantha to the tub and carefully helped her to climb in, mindful of the missing section of the girl’s left arm.

Samantha sighed, though moments before she felt she would never want to be wet again. The hot water quickly loosened her muscles and worked its way into her chilled bones.

Raisa smiled as the girl closed her eyes. She looked one last time at the bulge in the girl’s midsection then turned to go. “You relax…I will come and check on you after a while.”

Raisa left, but Samantha did not know or care as heat soaked into her body, causing her limbs to grow relaxed and rubbery. Moments later she was drifting comfortably toward sleep, her last conscious thought of Gwaynn.

XI

Tarina re N’dori kept her eyes on Gwaynn even as the Palmerrio army began to advance on their position. The young Prince was very calm and it was easy to see that the men and women nearby worshiped him. N’dori was sure that part of that adoration came from the fact that Gwaynn took up position directly on the front lines. And though he had great input into the preparation of the battle, once it started he allowed his General to deal with the troop movements and reinforcements while he fought with the common soldiers.

N’dori studied the young man’s profile as the Palmerrio marched closer, pounding their shields, now moving through only a light afternoon rain. She, Gwaynn and Vio were located on the very far left of the Massi lines supporting the gap which would open between the Massi and the Toranado as the later attempted to push forward and circle around the enemy. Tar Kostek and Tar Endid were on the far right near the creek with the remainder of the students supporting the Massi lines that had to hold for the plan to be successful. Tar Halstad and Myson were in the center of the Massi lines. For this battle to be won, the Massi had to hold the center without the help of the Toranado.

‘For someone so young he is very calm,’ N’dori thought admiringly. ‘For someone waiting in the front lines before an imminent battle he was exceptionally calm...no matter his age.’ N’dori was amazed at how the soldiers around the Prince benefitted from his steady manner.

“You have seen too much war,” N’dori commented and Gwaynn glanced at her, surprised. The Tarina was middle aged…thin and tall but her hair had yet to go gray and her eyes still sparkled with youth. She had a strong, square face which few would have called pretty, though handsome might have come to mind for some. She stood gazing at Gwaynn intently, the approaching army apparently not giving her the least cause of concern.

“Yes,” Gwaynn replied softly, keeping his eyes on the Solitary. N’dori smiled, most men would have kept their eyes on the threat moving ever nearer, but the Massi Prince seemed without worry.

“Have you seen war?”

N’dori shook her head negatively, and then with a sweeping motion with her arm said. “Not like this…a few small battles…a few small fights.”

“Well then,” Gwaynn answered without smiling, “you should stay close.”

N’dori broke out into a loud easy laugh and when she smiled, Gwaynn could easily see the girl she’d once been. Still Gwaynn did not smile back, and Vio who was positioned just on the other side of the Prince glanced the Solitary’s way.

“I’m staying close,” she blurted, clearly nervous. Gwaynn finally broke into a grin and smiled at Vio, though he was still slightly afraid for her wellbeing, but he said nothing until he turned back to N’dori.

“Be careful,” he advised, but before she could answer the Palmerrio troops suddenly screamed out in unison and broke into a full charge, racing across the slick and muddy field.

As in all battles, it didn’t take long before everything turned into chaos. Even though the Palmerrio struck hard and fast, the Massi lines held. The rain and dreary weather muted all colors to such a degree that the attacking Palmerrio were unaware that the Massi now had significant support from the Tars of Noble Island. The damp, gray weather also had a way of amplifying sound so that the clang of steel on steel and the cries of the wounded seemed very loud making the battle even more terrifying for the soldiers on both sides.

Vio’s heart was pounding with fear and anticipation but most of all excitement. She did not think about death or the possibility that the Black Horseman might indeed be coming for her; instead she focused on the group of soldiers who were rushing directly at her. At first they were all a blur, a mass of humanity rather than individuals, but then a large soldier broke off and came for her...personally. The two lines slammed into each other with tremendous force, loud grunts, the crashing of swords, and the ringing of steel. Fear faded away and instinct took over for Vio Valencia. She dodged a spear thrust her way, parried a blow from a long sword and then another from a kali, before she finally struck out and sliced through an enemy soldier’s neck. Time slowed for the young student from Noble, and she watched in fascinated horror as blood poured from the man’s wound. She stood mesmerized as he stared at her for an endless moment, then he dropped his weapons and thrust his hands onto the wound. He waivered slightly, staring intimately into her eyes, and then he fell to his knees in front of her. Vio’s attention remained fixed on the dying man as dark red blood oozed through his fingers and then suddenly he fell over into the mud.

Vio stood stunned, feeling elated and ill at the very same time, then she slumped over and retched up her breakfast onto the dead man’s back. She felt a hand on her shoulder pushing her back, but she went unwillingly. It was several minutes before she gained control of her stomach and straightened. At first she was unaware of her surroundings but everything came into sharp focus when she caught sight of a kali slicing down toward her face. She skipped backwards but knew instantly that she was too late. The sword was going to cut into her, kill her. Even so, she tried to raise her guard but her parry was too late. The enemy blade came down, but at the last possible second another kali appeared and deflected the razor’s edge of death just enough so that it whistled by her left ear. As it flew past the sword actually cut through a patch of her short dark hair.

“Vio!” Gwaynn yelled at her, but she’d already come to life and plunged her right kali through the ribs of the soldier who’d nearly killed her. He fell quickly and without a sound and Vio instantly moved onto another. Now fully awake to the battle, she fought and killed with the efficiency of a warrior from Noble, only vaguely aware of the vast numbers of men who were falling to the true warriors on her right. Gwaynn and N’dori were gliding, slicing and killing the enemy at such an incredible rate that soon their general vicinity was clear of any Palmerrio. The break between the Toranado and the Massi left was just beginning to widen, but for now the gap was not threatened.

As N’dori killed the last remaining soldier challenging her, she turned and watched as Gwaynn, with unbelievable speed cut through the two he was facing. He did not relax immediately after seeing the ground around him clear, but instead he swiveled to check on Vio, who was currently surrounded by Massi soldiers and also looking for any threat. Gwaynn then turned to check on N’dori, who was nearly forty yards away, but she was walking quickly in his direction and smiling joyfully.

“Nev was right to choose you as his successor,” she said and squatted down next to a dead Palmerrio soldier. She used his long cape to clean off both her kali. “You fight very well,” she added.

“As do you,” he answered. They didn’t have time for any additional pleasantries as a large force of Palmerrio moved from the center to attempt to take advantage of the growing gap developing in the Massi lines. They were joined by the main section of infantry being held in reserve by General Sanchez. The bait was taken and now it was up to the Massi to hold until the Toranado could complete the circle and trap the enemy army. If the Massi lines collapsed now it would likely be their own army that was encircled and destroyed.

Gwaynn slid along the lines closer to Vio, encouraging the veteran Massi soldiers around him, but they needed little encouragement. The soldiers who had survived through the many battles to this point were hardened and skilled and though war was never desirable, some of the Massi were growing to relish it and even to enjoy fighting for their new and deadly young King.

“Are you all right?” Gwaynn asked as he finally reached Vio’s side. She was pale and looked a little ill but she turned her large dark eyes on Gwaynn and nodded. The truth be told her arms felt like rubber and her knees were shaking something terrible and she had a strong suspicion she’d wet herself during the fighting. She was not sure…the air was very damp and rain continued to fall lightly. She was still contemplating the possibility when the next wave of enemy soldiers reached her position and the fighting began once again.

Vio fought and fought, completely unaware that she was weeping through most of the battle. She killed or seriously wounded over a dozen enemy soldiers and did not take even a scratch herself. But she remembered the faces of all the men she struck down, and she remembered their dying expressions were filled with pain and fear. The Toranado were now over two hundred yards from the far left of the Massi lines but with the help of Gwaynn, N’dori and Vio the lines were holding even though the Palmerrio were throwing more and more of their reserves in their direction.

“Hold men!” Gwaynn yelled and the men around him yelled back and then when the enemy before them began to weaken once more Gwaynn turned to N’dori who was still at his side and nodded.

“Forward!” They yelled in unison and the Massi lines began to advance and push the Palmerrio back. As they moved Gwaynn glanced to the north east and spotted the Toranado in position and threatening to encircle the Palmerrio right wings, but they were up against stiff opposition and their advance slowed considerably.

Again a mass of Palmerrio moved to engage the Massi left and again the two armies fought for control of the gap. Gwaynn fought with abandon, killing so quickly that his immediate area was once more free of any nearby threats. He glanced again to the Toranado, but the rain was falling heavily now and their position was obscured. Gwaynn moved farther to the left where the Palmerrio lines were stronger and spotted a figure draped in black, clothes trimmed in red, moving directly toward Vio Valencia. But Vio, who was currently battling a large man with long flowing red hair, was completely unaware of the danger now stalking her way.

Gwaynn’s heart was hammering in his chest as he pushed through the crowd but then three Palmerrio soldiers moved to block his way and he was forced to take his eyes from the Executioner to deal with the immediate threat. He spun and killed one instantly but the other two circled and fought cautiously and were soon joined by two additional soldiers. Gwaynn fought aggressively but as he advanced they fell away, moving and circling. He spun once and caught sight of Vio in the distance engaged with a new enemy soldier, the man with the red hair gone, and he did not catch sight of the Executioner. A soldier quickly moved in and the tip of his kali caught Gwaynn in the right thigh, slicing through his pants and the top inch of skin and muscle. Gwaynn leaped back and was immediately attacked by those behind him and it was all he could do to keep from taking another blade between his shoulders. The five he was facing were now fighting together, eyes only for him. They were a very great threat and Gwaynn knew it. He forced himself to forget Vio and the Executioner and focus on the Palmerrio who were trying desperately to kill him. From somewhere behind he heard the high pitched scream of a woman in agony and his heart fell, but he could not turn, could not help, the soldiers surrounding him were taking all of his concentration.

Vio for her part was, in fact, aware of the Executioner moving steadily in her direction. The woman from Sinis moved at an easy pace, killing anyone who challenged her as she edged ever closer, black robes swirling behind in the light rain. And there was something about the way the assassin moved that disturbed Vio, but she did not have time to dwell on it as a Palmerrio soldier with a long sword hacked at her with a mighty swing. She gracefully ducked aside and with a fluid movement sliced through the back of the man’s left arm, hitting bone with a jarring thud. The soldier dropped his primary weapon, screamed and quickly drew a kali with his right, but by then Vio was in on him and plunged her own into his chest. As he fell she quickly turned half expecting the Executioner to be running in her direction but he…no she, was not. She was just walking, that strangely familiar walk.

‘She…’ Vio thought momentarily surprised, though she knew that females were a vital part of all life in the Inland Sea. ‘Female Executioners.’ The thought came to her with a flash as she watched the Executioner move toward her, smiling and twirling her kali in a smooth, practiced motion.

‘Female Executioners! Gwaynn’s Captain...Captain Huntley! She was on Light…she was an Executioner!’ Vio was sure and completely confident of her suspicions. She needed to get to Gwaynn. She needed to warn him, but then the woman in black struck with such speed and skill that Vio was thrown back, off balanced and surprised, taxed to the limit just to keep the whirling blades that came at her from penetrating her defenses and ending her life.

“You will die, little Noble one,” the Executioner said after her initial attack was thwarted. Vio did not answer but instead launched an attack of her own, and when she did she moved with the fluid grace Gwaynn always associated with her. The Executioner before her retreated but had little difficulty deflecting the blows coming at her.

“Very good…very good,” the Executioner crooned and then counter attacked and again Vio was forced to back pedal using all her speed to deflect the blows with no thought at all about attack. Harder and harder the Executioner pressed her, but still Vio was up to the task and remained unscathed. A Massi pike man moved in, attacking the warrior from Sinis. Vio tried to help but was unsure of how to fight alongside someone with such an unwieldy weapon. Seconds later the pike man was dead, his head rolling in the mud.

“I want your head as well,” the woman in black said, her frustration showing, as she turned back to face Vio, “and when I cut if from your body I’ll keep it as a trophy.”

She attacked quickly and confidently, but Vio was learning her patterns and actually began to spray in several counters of her own, but still neither inflicted anything more than a few minor wounds.

And suddenly Gwaynn was there, attacking with such fury that the Executioner retreated away from him at nearly a run. Gwaynn, however, was nonplussed by the retreat and even lashed out at several Palmerrio soldiers as they flew by. Finally the Executioner skidded to a stop, trying to hold her ground but she quickly lost her right arm in the attempt and then before she even felt any pain, Gwaynn swung around and sliced through the back of her neck, severing her spine. The Executioner’s head flopped forward and without a sound her body dropped to the ground, her face buried in the mud of the battlefield.

“Gwaynn!” Vio yelled, but Gwaynn had already spotted the threat coming quickly from the east. There were thousands of cavalry men in the distance, pounding out of the southeast, charging almost directly for the Toranado who were still engaged with a mass of Palmerrio foot soldiers. Gwaynn stared at the oncoming force with dismay as the Palmerrio uniforms and signal flags came into view. He could feel the fear and concern rippling through the Massi lines, but for the moment they held their ground.

‘They were close…so close. If they could just defeat the Palmerrio they could, against all odds, win back their country.’

“We need to sound a retreat!” N’dori shouted as she ran to Gwaynn position. The battle was still raging all around them, but little was happening in their immediate area.

“She’s an Executioner!” Vio yelled at nearly the same moment, but Gwaynn thought she was referring to the woman lying dead in the mud, so he ignored her and turned to N’dori.

“No…Bock will send the reserves our direction,” Gwaynn told her. “Move back and prepare to shift them where they’ll be needed most.”

N’dori nodded and instantly moved toward the rear of the lines as Vio reached Gwaynn, still shaky from battle.

“Executioner!” Vio repeated.

“I know,” Gwaynn answered and turned to the oncoming cavalry. “We need to warn Prince Phillip,” he said but knew they would be too late. Even as he watched the horseman reached the battle but instead of moving against the Toranado they crashed into the rear of the Palmerrio lines. At first, Gwaynn thought it was a mistake of colossal proportions, but it soon became apparent that the cavalry were indeed attacking their own troops.

“They’re ours!” Gwaynn heard someone shout as the Palmerrio all around them began to pull back. But it was already too late for them. The Massi cavalry smashed through the rear of the Palmerrio and quickly opened up a corridor for the Toranado to rush through closing the circle.

“Forward!” Gwaynn yelled again but those around him, sensing the impending victory were already sprinting by him. Gwaynn started forward with his troops…suddenly elated, but something snagged at his right sleeve. Gwaynn spun, his kali held high, but stopped as he caught sight of Vio’s face.

“Huntley…she’s an Executioner!” Vio said urgently and Gwaynn frowned at her not fully comprehending what she was saying. He started to turn back to the battle which was still raging though now some distance away, but Vio held on.

“Captain Huntley…I saw her on Light…I knew she was familiar,” Vio tried to explain quickly. “She’s an Executioner!”

Understanding flooded over Gwaynn. ‘An Executioner…Cyndar,’ he thought and the image of her standing naked before him, rejected and going instinctively for the weapon that was not at her side burst into his mind. And he knew Vio was correct.

“We must press forward!” N’dori yelled, leading the rear guard forward. She stopped at Gwaynn’s side but he did not seem to be listening, then without warning a bridge expanded in the dimming light of the late afternoon and without a moment’s hesitation or comment Gwaynn jumped through and the bridge collapsed with a small pop.

ǂ

With a flurry of counter moves Tar Kostek dropped the two Palmerrio soldiers who foolishly moved forward to challenge him. From his position on the right, the battle appeared to be going to plan. The lines were holding, though the initial attack by the enemy had pushed the Massi back a hundred feet or so before they dug in and gave no more. The Massi right even began to push back to a degree. Kostek was surprised to find that his skills were stretched to the utmost on several occasions. The Palmerrio heavy infantry were well trained and hardened soldiers who knew their weapons well and fought with superior tactics. Only the long hard training on Noble saved the elder Tar from several quick painful deaths. As it was, many of the surrounding Massi were not so lucky or so skilled. They fell with remarkable regularity, but they too were growing strong and experienced and that experience allowed them to take many of their Palmerrio counterparts along with them.

What Tar Kostek was not prepared for was the chaos of the battlefield. Though the lines held for a while it was not long before the fight broke up into thousands of personal confrontations.  On Noble, nearly every contest was strictly controlled; but on the field of war it was common to be attacked from all sides. Men were stabbed in the back with a pike or spear while battling an enemy soldier quite regularly. Soldiers from both sides killed on the battleground with no thoughts of chivalry or fairness. Fighting and surviving in such an environment demanded a complete awareness of your surroundings. Failure to do so ended in either injury or death, very often from behind. The citizens of Noble learned this lesson early in the battle when Jinja took a spear point through the back of the neck while fighting off two Palmerrio soldiers.

“Fight in pairs!” Kostek yelled to the others. “Watch each other’s backs,” he added though he could immediately tell the advice was unneeded. Tam and William were already fighting back to back creating a circle of death around them. The students Saran and Indira soon copied the strategy. Tar Myson, who drifted inexplicably from the center lines to the right during the chaos of battle, joined with Tar Endid, and now only Kostek himself was left without a partner.

There was a flow to war. The fighting peaked at times then waned only to peak once again for no apparent reason. Kostek soon lost count of those he killed and was unaware of anything but his most immediate surroundings. The rain fell hard and then stopped completely sometime during the fighting but he did not notice. His complete consciousness was tuned only to hacking, blocking, slicing and stabbing the enemy who threatened him or those around him. As the battle raged on, the group from Noble gradually drifted toward the center, though they were not aware of the slow shift. Even so, they were steadily moving away from the far right, like a swimmer at sea being pushed gently down shore by the tide.

“Executioner!” Tar Endid shouted suddenly. Though alarmed, Kostek made no attempt to look about. He was currently busy fighting off three soldiers, two of the attacking men came at him with long spears and they pressed forward cautiously, very careful to keep their distance. Kostek remained embroiled in his own personal battle for a long time. How long, he did not actually know, but during the entire fight he was constantly alert to a possible attack from the assassin from Sinis. Eventually, however, the soldier engaging him with a long sword made a mistake and lost his right arm. The soldiers with the spears, who were now on opposite sides of him hesitated and Kostek swiftly looked for Endid and spotted him in a pitch battle with a man dressed entirely in black.

Kostek feinted right then without warning sprinted left at a soldier trying to skewer him from behind. The Tar knocked aside the spear with little difficulty then pressed in so close that the long weapon was no longer effective. The soldier knew it and his eyes went wide with fear, but an instant later he was dead and at peace. Kostek spun back to face his lone surviving opponent but found that the man was already dead, having been cut down by a host of Massi soldiers pushing through the area.

Off to his left, Tar Endid was still battling the Executioner, in a fight that had lasted far longer than Kostek would have imaged. And though Endid seemed uninjured, the Executioner was now using only his left arm, his right hung uselessly at his side. Even so, Endid had trouble breaking through the man’s defense. Kostek rushed forward to aid his friend. The former High Tar of Noble was amazed at the skill level being displayed by the man from Sinis and it shook him. However, just before Kostek reached the fight, Endid succeeding in driving the man’s left kali aside and with a lightning fast attack cut through the man’s neck, nearly severing his head. The Executioner dropped just as Kostek arrived.

“Are you all right?”

Endid nodded, breathing heavily.

“Myson?”

Endid stood and glanced around the battlefield. The heat of the battle had once again moved toward the creek and away from their immediate area. “He’s in the rear. He took a blade to the ribs…it’s bad, but I think he should survive.”

“How?”

Endid pointed down at the Executioner. “This one. His skill took us by surprise.”

Kostek nodded. “Yes…I saw. It does not seem possible.” For centuries those trained on Noble always looked down on the Executioners of Sinis as little more than second class fighters.

Endid said nothing. He looked to the east but could see nothing through the chaos of battle.

“Come,” Kostek said but before they could rejoin the fight, Tam and William rushed to their side.

William remained silent, his face ashen, but Tam spoke up excitedly.

“The enemy seems to be collapsing on the right,” she said, talking very fast. “The Massi troops are pressing forward.”

Kostek looked into the direction she was indicating and could instantly tell she was correct. The main battle lines were now nearly a hundred yards farther to the south than they were.

“Forward!” Endid yelled at those men around him and every Massi soldier who could still stand began to push to the south. The advance started slowly, but with the help of the Tars it soon gained momentum and suddenly the enemy melted away and the path toward the enemy rear was wide open.

“Go!” Kostek shouted and the advance turned into a sprint. They ran, killing a few straggling enemy soldiers but mostly they just took ground uncontested. And then, without warning the Palmerrio King was before them. Several horsemen rode forward in an attempt to slow their advance but the Massi pike men took them down with little trouble. Then the King’s own guard moved forward led by yet another man in black.

The Massi soldiers on either side of Kostek rushed forward to meet the guard, but Kostek remained focused on the approaching Executioner.

“Watch my back,” Kostek said to Tar Endid, who nodded.

“So Noble Island has chosen the path of destruction,” Tar Giodart said as he slowly drew his kali and began to cautiously circle the old man from Noble.

Tar Kostek said nothing just attacked. He moved quickly and surely keeping constant pressure on his opponent in the hope to end the conflict rapidly, but the Executioner was equal to the task and soon shifted the fight so that Kostek was on the defensive.

“Impressive for such an old man,” the Executioner said and meant it. Kostek, at just over fifty, was well older than even the eldest Executioner. ‘The Tars of Noble grow weak with age,’ Giodart thought with a sneer then had to skip back from a blow designed to take off his head. “You stay out of this!” Giodart barked at Endid, who showed no signs of interfering, but instead kept the immediate area free of any threats from the King’s guard.

“No need,” Endid said to the Executioner as Kostek waded in again with a flurry of attacks. Again the Tar from Sinis was able to deflect or block every blow and even smiled just before the right foot of Kostek shot up and caught him in the chin. Giodart’s head rocked back but he instinctively threw up his kali in defense, but Kostek, with the very move he taught Gwaynn so long ago, used his left kali to slice completely through the right leg of the Executioner.

With a scream of surprise and pain Giodart dropped to the ground and ill advisedly released his right kali and grabbed for his leg. He held up his left kali in an effort to defend himself, but Kostek easily knocked it aside and stabbed down forcefully. His kali passed clear through the Executioner’s neck and out the back side. The stricken man jerked about for several long moments before his eyes went blank and he was still.

Tar Kostek pulled his kali free and with Tar Endid at his side turned to reenter the fray, but nearly all fighting had stopped. The sun just dipped below the horizon as the King of the Palmerrio surrendered.

ǂ

Samantha was already in bed when there was a soft knock at the door. She knew Cobb was outside and hoped he was not thinking to have another “go” at her but she suspected it was Raisa checking up on her so she answered.

“Come,” she said sleepily, wanting nothing more than to fall back into the bed she’d first shared with Gwaynn and dream of her lover. But it was not Raisa or Cobb at the door, instead it was Emm, looking lost and a little shy.

“Sorry to bother you ma’am,” Emm said softly, standing in the doorway, making no attempt to enter. Samantha jumped out of bed, her long nightgown swirling at her feet and immediately realized that Krys was the problem. The thought caused an explosion of worry to ripple through her consciousness as her thoughts once again went to Gwaynn. She was not with him…not fighting by his side in battle for the first time in over a year. It made her feel anxious and a bit guilty. He could be dead even now and she would not know it. She shook her head, trying to dispel the thought, which was too gruesome to consider. Cobb was standing, hat in hand just behind the young girl, looking sad and shifting from one foot to the next.

“No bother Emm…come in,” she added.

Emm did so…tentatively at first, but smiled as Samantha reached out with her good hand and took a hold of her and gently pulled her farther into the room.

“Good night Cobb,” Samantha added and softly closed the door so as not to disturb the Magistrate and his wife, though the Koch’s had taken to sleeping in a small room off the kitchens. As Raisa got older she found she couldn’t stand the cold and preferred to be downstairs where she kept not only the fireplace in their room going but the large potbelly stove in the kitchen as well. Samantha kept her own fireplace cold and empty and even had to open her bedroom window against the heat emanating from the lower part of the house. But the very light breeze coming in through the window was delightfully cool and far from cold, after all it was only early October. Samantha wondered just when winter would hit up on the Plateau and so near the mountains; she suspected it would be sooner rather than later.

“I should go,” Emm said simply and tried to pull away from Samantha, but her grip held firm.

“Nonsense,” Samantha answered. “Stay…you can share the bed with me. I’ll just be thinking of Gwaynn anyway…like you’ll be thinking of Krys.

Emm nodded then started to cry. Samantha hugged her and gently led her to the bed and they sat, close together, while Emm continued to cry. Samantha held the still grieving girl for a very long time as she attempted to cleanse her wounded soul.

On the far side of town, Cyn de Baard was dressing, not grieving, though she knew her plans would in all likelihood put an end to any dreams she had of a life with Gwaynn Massi. ‘So much for love!’ She growled to herself as she pulled on her black silky pants. They felt wonderful against her skin. She’d not realized just how much she missed wearing them. She ran her hands over her backside, feeling the soft firm flesh just below the thin fabric. She’d lost a little weight during her stay in Massi; she would have to rectify that once she was back on Sinis. It wouldn’t do to become too thin. She sighed. Her body ached for Gwaynn and she would have liked to know him intimately just once before she was forced to leave. But it was not to be, so she decided then and there that once Tar Nacht was dead she would take a lover…perhaps a woman this time…yes a woman would be delightful after the lumbering oaf Brandt.

She shook away such thoughts and slipped into her silk shirt…also black and then pulled on a cape to match. She strapped a belt to her waist and sheathed her kali then stuck a small needle knife at the small of her back and smiled to herself. She felt good; better than she had in a very long time. Her shoulder was still stiff but its range of motion was growing every day and the wound in her side was no real bother. Though it had been painful, it was superficial, doing little harm. Yes, she was ready. Yes, she felt good and she knew she looked good as well; all the clothes she now wore were trimmed in red.

Once dressed, she sat on the bed for an hour waiting for the night to deepen. When she could stand it no longer, she stood and slipped out of the room she occupied at a small inn near the outskirts of town. She would have liked to wait until near the witching hour but she wanted to be well gone before daylight in case the Massi decided to pursue. Still, she was confident the darkness of the early evening would hide her and she was well practiced in the art of appearing invisible.

As it was, she needn’t have to worry about being spotted. If there were sentries she didn’t come across any and the streets of the small town were all but deserted. The lone person she did slip past was so drunk she doubted he would have noticed if she was skipping naked down the center of the road.

But de Baard was not skipping; she was moving stealthily from shadow to shadow, not taking any chances now that she’d finally decided to act. She was so close to eliminating the one person who robbed her of love. The Town Square was eerily vacant but de Baard did not mind in the least. She entered the square directly opposite the Magistrate’s home but was able to circle quickly around. She stopped in the shadows of a tailor’s shop and studied the entry points of the house carefully.

The home was a large two story affair with a long wide porch out front and numerous windows on the main floor, but just a single one above. She saw only one faint light coming from the window on the second floor. The fact that the light varied in intensity told her that it was most likely coming from a lone candle. As de Baard stood there regarding the light a loud cough sounded in the night, coming from off to her right. She peered in the direction, but could not see anyone and finally decided it must have come from an open window. From where she stood she could see a number of windows thrown open in the nearby homes. Most were dark but some were lit brightly, and she could hear the buzzing of several nighttime conversations drifting through the dark. The fall night was cool but could not yet be considered cold and there was little or no breeze to stir the air. Many people were obviously enjoying the pleasant night air. She would have to be mindful. Any cries of pain or fear were sure to be heard by a great number of the town’s citizens. She would have to be quick, careful and above all quiet.

But de Baard was only mildly concerned as she stepped from the shadows and entered the alley which led to the rear of the house. She could kill quietly if need be. It would be good to execute again…she’d grown soft. Perhaps it was for the best that she would leave Gwaynn Massi behind. He made her weak…perhaps she would return one day and finish the job…kill him, cut off his cock, and keep for herself what he denied her.

de Baard smiled. It was a pleasant, heartwarming thought. ‘Yes, it was definitely something to consider; a souvenir from a far off land.’

When she reached the rear of the house she noticed another light twinkling through the window in the back door…which undoubtedly led to the kitchens. The porch in the rear was smaller, painted a soft white and seemed to glow in the light of the half moon. She climbed the stairs, very, very slowly, freezing at the slightest creak or groan from the wood. In her soft, silk slippers, she could move almost soundlessly. It would take keen ears indeed to detect her approach. No one did. de Baard gracefully moved to the right side of the door and stood, her back against the wall of the house and then she carefully peeked inside. She spotted the candle sitting in the middle of a large, sturdy oak table. She could also see red coals burning in the nearby stove and wondered with a little trepidation if someone was preparing to cook something, but after several anxious moments no one appeared.

‘The time is now.’ She thought to herself and carefully began to move the handle of the door. She moved incredibly slowly, revealing the great patience necessary to be a first rate Executioner. The door was not locked, and de Baard had a suspicion that very few of the doors in the town of Colchester would be locked…small town…small town ways. The latch on the door clicked softly, barely audible even to de Baard who was anticipating the sound and she smiled. She began to push the door in ever so gently, again patiently. She pushed for five….ten….fifteen full minutes, the door only occasionally giving the slightest creak, and then she was inside. A light snore came from a room directly off the kitchen.

‘Servants,’ de Baard thought as she padded quietly to the open door of the bedroom. There was a small fire burning in the room and it was exceedingly hot inside. On the bed de Baard could just make out a pair of lumps…a man and a woman by the looks of them. The man’s breathing was slow and steady, the breath of deep slumber. The woman was emitting the snore, which was still soft and very regular. She stepped quietly into the room on her silk black slippers and walked lightly across the floor until she stood silently over the woman. de Baard pulled her right kali silently from its sheath. She made no sound but the woman stirred and opened her eyes in any case. It took a moment for the old woman to focus in the darkness, but de Baard, dressed all in black, was almost invisible in shadows of the room. By the time the woman realized a black shape was standing over her menacingly, the razor’s edge of the Executioner’s sword had already sliced through her neck and windpipe. de Baard paused to watch as Raisa’s eyes bulge out…all traces of sleep gone from her expression. The woman tried to rise, but de Baard held her down momentarily, but then panic gave the wounded woman uncommon strength and she threw her attacker off quite easily. Raisa sat up terrified and needing air. She tried to breath but nothing would come. Her hands went instinctively to her throat and blood poured over her fingers. She thrashed her head once, then tried to stand, her vision popping with white hot flashes. She staggered into de Baard, who with a quick angry thrust, drove her kali through the woman’s heart and the struggle stopped almost instantly. de Baard held her and even gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before she gently lowered the dead woman to the floor. Unbelievably the man in the bed was still sleeping soundly.

de Baard wiped her bloody hands on the woman’s night gown, unaware that she also had a bright swath of red across her cheek. She walked slowly around to the opposite side of the bed and stood near the sleeping man. de Baard smiled. How the fool was still sleeping she couldn’t imagine, his wife had put up quite a fuss before the end. She shrugged and crept slowly forward, but as she moved a single board gave a loud groan. Without warning the man shot up to a sitting position. de Baard, though startled, did not hesitate. She rammed her kali through the man’s soft belly and then up into his chest cavity. Her victim gave a small cry of pain and surprise then coughed up blood as de Baard tried to jerk the weapon from his body. The point of the kali was stuck, probably on a rib and it took several attempts to free it from the dying man, and all the while the man hissed and moaned loudly instead of dying like he ought. de Baard whispered a curse and finally yanked the weapon loose. She slit the man’s throat and then for good measure drove her kali into his chest once again. Finally he was still.

de Baard stood elated and slightly disgusted. The man voided while dying and the smell was horrendous in the heat of the room. She quickly moved back to the door and out into the kitchen just as heavy footfalls thundered across the ceiling and then down the stairs.

“Raisa?” a loud voice called in the darkness and de Baard instantly recognized it as the fool Cobb. She smiled to herself and backed into the shadows near the foot of the stairwell and waited.

She didn’t have long. The idiot pounded down the stairs, clearly concerned, but not very cautious. She struck just as he reached the landing. She attempted to gauge where his neck would be and she swung her kali hard enough to slice through skin and bone, plenty hard enough to remove the fool’s head. The weapon sliced into the large man as he flew past and without even slowing the idiot crashed into the masonry wall at the bottom of the stairs. His bulk overturned one small table and his head struck with a satisfying thud, then he was still. de Baard paused for only a moment, listening to the night sounds. Outside she heard a dog bark from far off in the distance, but from the room upstairs…nothing.

‘So close,’ she thought eagerly.

‘Just the bitch left now,’ de Baard thought, picturing the one armed Samantha cowering in terror. The Executioner smiled, feeling the warmth of killing start in her groin and spread in waves throughout her body.

XII

It was already dark when Gwaynn appeared in the courtyard of the bailey directly in front of Tarina Grace. He immediately collapsed to his knees and waves of hunger gripped him, causing his stomach to clench and knot, like a muscle cramp. The distance he Traveled was by far the largest he’d yet accomplished, but it was the manipulation of Time that truly drained his body of energy. He was not entirely sure how long he’d held Time motionless as his projected self searched through first the bailey and then through the hospital tent for Samantha. In a panic, he even went so far as to search quickly through Manse’s defenses, moving along the lines of the levee in the hopes of spotting her. But in the end he only found the Tarina and Traveled, knowing she would be able to tell him Samatha’s whereabouts, as well as that of the Executioner Huntley.

He struggled to his feet but his legs were shaky and weak and he immediately collapsed once more before the astonished Tarina.

“Soldier!” She yelled at a nearby guard. “Run and bring food…a lot of food…now!” She snapped her fingers as he lingered, eyes on his King. The soldier jerked and then ran off to do her bidding, wondering just what was happening.

“The battle?” Grace asked, fearing the worst, as she squatted and helped Gwaynn to his feet.

“Nearly won…” Gwaynn stammered fighting to catch his breath. His heart and lungs were pounding far worse than after his ten mile runs back on Noble. “Sa…Sama…Samantha...” he finally managed to push the word out but was unable to continue for several more seconds.

“Samantha’s fine,” Grace said and frowned.

A few moments later Gwaynn had sufficiently caught his breath to speak. “Where…where is she?”

The Tarina frowned. “I sent her to Colchester with the rest of the wounded,” she explained. “I expect another attack from the Temple Knights at any time. Why they didn’t follow up on the early success I’ll never know. Could be the biggest mistake of the war,” she added, but then stopped as she felt him weakly shaking her arm.

“The wounded?”

Grace smiled. “She took a spill, but she and the baby are fine. Is the army coming? We’ll lose Manse if they don’t arrive quickly.”

Gwaynn shook his head and tried to stand but his left knee crumpled beneath his weight. He would have fallen again without the Tarina’s support. She led him to a long bench that ran the length of the southern wall of the bailey. He sat gratefully, then doubled over as a massive cramp ripped through his insides; when it passed he straightened up as much as he dared.

“Cyndar Huntley…where is she?”

Grace frowned again. “She took a long sword through her side. She’s very lucky her vital organs were missed….”

“Where?” Gwaynn interrupted.

“I sent her to Colchester with the rest,” Grace answered, wondering at the boy’s manner and why he seemed so agitated. Her wonder turned to fear when what color he had drained from his face. He tried to stand and succeeded, though clearly the effort was taxing him.

“You need food,” Grace said and attempted to pull Gwaynn to a sitting position once more.

Gwaynn shook his head forcefully and tried to extract himself from her grip. He was unsuccessful. “I need to go!”

Grace looked at him, confused. “Go…go where?” She asked as the soldier finally returned with a platter full of meat, cheese and bread.

Gwaynn wanted to answer her question but instead he reached for the platter, nearly spilling it. Grace took it from him and held it up as he began shoving large pieces of meat into his mouth.

“Slowly…” she said. She was aware of the great need for sustenance Travelers required after the manipulated space, but she’d never witness anything quite so extreme. Gwaynn ignored her and ate quickly and steadily for nearly ten minutes until the worst of his pains began to diminish. “Peaches!” He barked at the soldier. “Find peach juice…or peaches…run man!” Gwaynn shouted, but his impatience and worry got the best of him and he stepped away from the tray and closed his eyes attempting to project.

“What are you doing?” Grace asked alarmed. She set the tray on the bench and moved to Gwaynn. If she did not know any better she would swear he was trying to Travel…though how he would do so without the twenty-nine steps she did not know.

Gwaynn continued to ignore her until she grabbed his arm, breaking his concentration.

“Release me!” He shouted opening his eyes, true anger reflected in his expression. The Tarina recoiled.

“You’ve not the strength to Travel again,” she said softly.

“I must,” Gwaynn cried.

“But why…where?”

“Colchester,” Gwaynn spat out. “Cyndar Huntley is an Executioner!”

ǂ

Cyndar moved up the stairs quickly but nearly silently. She knew there was little chance the bitch was still sleeping after the racket the oaf made pounding down the stairs.

She reached the second level rapidly and spotted a feeble light coming beneath the first door on the left. Without hesitation she glided down the hall, turned the handle and pushed. She stepped neatly to one side as the door swung open in the off chance the whore was ready for her. Her caution was for naught, no one stood in the door frame; but as Cyndar’s eyes tracked farther into the room she caught the outline of someone standing on the far side of a large bed.

Lightning quick, de Baard drew her needle knife and launched it through the darkness at the lone figure. As always, her aim was true. She heard of soft thud as the knife hit and buried itself deep within the chest of the figure.

‘The bitch is finally dead!’ de Baard thought gleefully, as a slight whimper came from the swaying figure. Seconds later the body crumpled to the ground. With a smile de Baard moved into the room. At first her eyes remained locked on the body lying partially exposed on the far side of the bed. But even before she reached the corpse she realized the hair was not right. Dim though the light was coming from the candle, it was obvious that the hair of the recently deceased was light, without a hint of red. de Baard’s eyes flew up to the bed, and there watching her progress in the semi-darkness was Samantha, wide awake, propped up slightly on a pillow.

“You killed her!” Samantha said accusingly.

de Baard quickly recovered from her surprise and smiled.

“Yes,” She said, holding out her robes as if in a fashion show. “It’s what I do. And I’m here to kill you, Samantha Fultan and cut that abomination from your stinking corpse.”

The mention of the baby suddenly spurred Samantha into motion. She threw the covers aside and launched herself up onto the floor, hoping to get to the door beyond before Cyndar could reach her.

But her move was anticipated and before Samantha took two steps de Baard was at the door, blocking her way. The Executioner laughed and slowly drew both of her kali.

“Look…I can hold two,” Cyndar crooned, twirling the weapons, her eyes sparkling with malice as she lashed out with her left.

Samantha skidded to a stop and reversed direction with surprising agility for a pregnant woman. She hit the bed, dove on top and rolled across with amazing speed. When she regained her feet, she saw that Cyndar had not moved, instead the Executioner gently closed the door.

“No escape for you now,” de Baard said sweetly, thoroughly pleased.

“I knew it was you!” Samantha spat and took a quick step forward, making a lunge for Emm in the hope of retrieving the needle knife. But again de Baard moved forward, slicing through the air threateningly with the pair of kali. Samantha quickly stood and backed away from the razor sharp weapons.

“You’re in luck though,” Cyndar added, taking one graceful step closer to her victim. “It will be fast…your death. I must be leaving for Sinis…I’ve business with the High Tar.” She took another step closer, and Samantha took another back. Together the two women’s movements mirrored one another, like a ballet taken to a deadly end. The dance continued until Samantha’s backside came in contact with the chest of drawers sitting against the far wall.

“Time’s up,” de Baard whispered, a wide grin on her face and with agonizing slowness started forward.

ǂ

“I have to go,” Gwaynn cried and moved away from the Tarina. He closed his eyes and raised his hands working through the first of the twenty-nine steps. He tried to work quickly, knowing that each second might spell disaster for Samantha, but even so he knew he could not slow spacetime again. He did not have the energy, did not have the power but even if he somehow succeeded, he would arrive in Colchester so weakened he would be no help to anyone. Gwaynn raced through the twenty-nine steps three times but felt no closer to projecting, his mind would not focus; he could not concentrate.

“No peaches…but I found apples and apple juice,” the soldier said approaching at a run.

Gwaynn’s eyes flew open and he reached for the juice, chugging it without a word, the need for hurry creating a constant growing pressure that centered in his chest.

‘Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!’ His mind screamed at him. He finished the juice and snatched two of the apples from the tray and placed them in the pockets of his cloak.

“Gwaynn,” the Tarina said softly, “if Huntley is truly an Executioner, you’ll need help. If you Travel, you may not be able to stand on your own.”

“Yes come with me!” Gwaynn conceded. “But now please be quiet and let me concentrate.”

“Sire,” the soldier started.

“Leave us!” Gwaynn shouted at the soldier who blinked.

“Go with gratitude,” Gwaynn added and then closed his eyes once more. Again his hands moved through the twenty-nine steps and again he seemed no closer to projecting. Time seemed to be flying past at an astonishing speed, laughing at him as it ticked away never again to return.

Over and over he progressed through the steps only to reach the end in failure.

‘Samantha!’ He thought. ‘The baby!’ He was nearing panic when the image of Gwynn appeared in his mind, not the tortured dying Gwynn of his nightmares, but a happy smiling Gwynn, the protective Gwynn who would visit him in the night and soothe his fears during his childhood.

‘Relax...calm,’ Gwynn said to him, still smiling, apparently happy to see him. Gwaynn immediately felt the tension in his body melt away and the stormy torrent of his thoughts begin to abate.

Moments later, his hands still working through the steps, he felt his being split and project. Without hesitation his projected self shot off toward the southwest. Colchester was only about thirty miles away but it seemed to take a lifetime to reach. In actuality, Gwaynn’s projected self arrived in moments and he instantly spotted the large array of tents located just north of the town, but he did not pause to look for Samantha…instinctively he knew where she would be.

He was struggling mightily to hold the two halves of his self apart as he moved through the town’s square and into the home of the magistrate. Up he went to the very room where he and Samantha first slept together, but she was not sleeping now. She was standing, her back against the wall with the traitorous Cyndar Huntley advancing on her with both kali drawn.

Gwaynn cried out soundlessly and placed himself between the two women, hoping he could rejoin before it was too late. A second later the vortex howled and the bridge opened.

“Trav…” he said, but was unable to hold the bridge any longer. His body was sucked through with incredible force, but there was not enough time for Tarina Grace to even start forward before the bridge and the King of Massi vanished with a small pop.

ǂ

Cyn de Baard moved ever closer to Samantha, who now stood stock still, terrified like a rabbit trapped in a hunter’s gaze. de Baard continued to grin, her eyes tracking down toward the distended belly of the pregnant woman.

‘Kill the brat first, then the mother,’ she thought and was just about to make her final lunge when a bridge sprang into existence directly between the two women. Astoundingly, the bridge appeared without any warning at all and grew so rapidly that Cyndar was pushed back by the expanding air to the far side of the room. She almost fell but caught herself by grabbing a hold of the fireplace mantle, and when she turned back Gwaynn Massi was standing there before her, sliding his own kali free.

“No!” he said, wavering slightly and trying hard to stand upright. Even though the distance was slight, the additional Traveling drained nearly all of the energy the food helped him to regain. His knees felt as if they might buckle at any moment, but he willed himself to stand tall.

“So be it,” Cyndar whispered, her voice husky and sensual. Her black silk shirt hugged tightly to her heaving breasts. She gazed directly into his eyes for a moment and then launched into a furious attack.

Samantha screamed and it was only Gwaynn’s training and instinct that kept the fight from coming to a deadly end in the first few moments. It helped that de Baard herself was injured and not one hundred percent. Even so Gwaynn was hard pressed to keep the whirling blades of his attacker out of his mid-section and away from his throat. During the opening moments it was all he could do to keep her off of him and he had no thoughts at all about countering. With mounting dismay he realized he should have fought to keep the bridge open longer and sent Tarina Grace in his stead. But he was weak and there’d been no time. His strength was gone and by Cyndar Huntley’s smile, he knew she was aware of his growing weakness as well.

Again and again she pressed him, and it was only with the utmost concentration that he was able to repel her attacks. His entire being narrowed, focusing only on the slashing kali and their master. The war disappeared, the room disappeared and at that moment even Samantha and the baby disappeared for him. Only de Baard remained…Cyndar, the Executioner. And it was then as she twirled about in her deadly dance that Gwaynn realized his only chance was to get in close, inside her attacks and tie her up, keep her from using her speed. But de Baard would not cooperate. In the small room she did her best to keep her distance from Gwaynn.  She realized he was not right, not himself. He was slow…much slower than normal and if she couldn’t kill him immediately she would wear him down.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t Travel and fight,” she advised with a smile, growing more confident as it became clear that Gwaynn’s strength was leaving him.

Gwaynn said nothing, just continued to defend himself and jockey for position until finally he saw his chance and though he was nearly exhausted he suddenly shot forward. He dropped his left kali and latched on to Cyndar’s wrist, holding it tightly as she fought to free herself. Gwaynn used his right kali to ward off Cyndar’s left, and though he could not get at her with his weapon he positioned himself so that she could not get to him either.

They stood locked together, nearly cheek to cheek for a long moment, each straining against the other, each making slight movements in an attempt to gain the advantage. And slowly, very slowly Cyndar’s strength was beginning to win out.

“I could have been your queen,” Cyndar whispered, her full mouth less than an inch from his. Her breath was sweet and mingled with the faint smell of her sweat and the more powerful smell of cherry blossoms. “We would have been oh so good together. You need a whole woman, one worthy of your love.”

Again Gwaynn did not answer. de Baard strained against him until the tip of her right kali turned and pointed toward the base of his neck. She pushed with all her strength and it slowly began to advance. Gwaynn’s arm trembled and he feared his strength would be completely gone in moments.

“What a queen I would have made,” she added with a smile, her eyes glinting with pleasure as she pressed her lower body seductively into his. She bumped her hips softly against his as her kali moved ever closer.

“I know you want me still,” she whispered passionately, the voice of a lover in bed. “I can feel your need. A cock never lies,” she added sweetly and moved her leg between his and smiled.  The point of her kali was now pressing into the base of his neck and Gwaynn felt a prick of pain.

Cyndar smiled beautifully. They both knew it was over and that he could hold her off no longer, but for a moment she hesitated.

“Tell me you love me or die,” Cyndar whispered, but before he could answer she grunted and her eyes flew open wide in shock.

“Get off my man…bitch!” Samantha whispered, her mouth pressed close to de Baard’s right ear, her one hand holding tightly to the hilt of the needle knife that was now buried deeply between the Executioner’s shoulder blades.

Gwaynn felt Cyndar stiffen as her eyes shifted to his, holding him locked in their gaze. They fluttered once, but before the light was completely gone, Samantha leaned in closer.

“Even with one hand, I’ll cut your head off as I did Navarra’s,” she promised then de Baard slumped and died, falling gracefully to the floor at their feet. Gwaynn sagged and would have fallen on top of the Executioner, but Samantha moved forward and supported him, holding him up and kissing him hard on the mouth.

“I love you,” he whispered and allowed her to pull him to the bed.

“I love you too,” she answered, “but what in the hell kept you?”

They smiled, kissed again and then slumped back onto the bed together, both exhausted. But later that same night, while Gwaynn slept oblivious to the world, Samantha pulled de Baard’s lifeless body downstairs and outside. The night air was still and quiet; the moon had set long ago. As the town of Colchester slept peacefully, Samantha kept her promise and under the black sky of deep night she removed the head of the Executioner Cyn de Baard.

XIII

Captain Fatima Wicks stood at the bow of the Universe, the flag ship of the Toranado navy, and watched as the gulls swooped low over the waves, hoping to catch some unsuspecting meal stirred up by the passing of the great trireme.

She wore her captain’s uniform, though technically she was now in overall command of the entire navy, and therefore held the rank of admiral. She’d not officially been awarded the position, so like any career military person; she refused to wear the insignia due to her. And frankly she could have cared less at the moment. What she wanted was revenge, not ribbons. The defeat of the Toranado at Eno was a scar of embarrassment for all who served in the greatest navy of the Inland Sea, and for Wicks it was a wound that throbbed painfully. It did not help matters that what few ships she had left under her command were regulated to guarding the harbor at Cape. Sailing safely about a waterfront did nothing to assuage her pain. What she needed, what all Toranado sailors needed at the moment, was to strike back. As the land war continued to rage, the battle at sea had diminished to nothing but endless patrols about the harbor, protecting the city of Cape from any invasion force that might come from across the water. As the weeks past and no enemy fleet came, Wicks was tempted to gather her ships and head out into the Inland Sea in search of someone to attack, someone to destroy.

However, Captain Wicks was a professional and would not jeopardize the strength of the remaining navy without expressed instructions. But with the harbor at Cape no longer under direct threat she’d begun to scout farther and farther out into the Inland Sea…reconnaissance in force.

At the moment she led a group of six heavy triremes and another ten smaller, galley class ships. She didn’t really expect to find any enemy lurking about; activity in recent days had fallen off drastically, undoubtedly most of the Palmerrio warships were now guarding the harbor at Eno, consolidating their victory.

Captain Wicks bristled at the thought and promised herself that one day she would sail boldly back into her home harbor and reclaim it.

Now however, was not the time, but if Prince Phillip finally managed to defeat the Palmerrio army on land…the time would come…and soon.

Captain Wicks smiled to herself.

“Ho!” Came a shout to her left. She turned and immediately spotted a group of ships approaching from the northeast, apparently moving parallel along the Massi shoreline. The ships and shore were still over a mile to the east, and from the distance their strength was impossible to determine, but the Captain did not hesitate.

“Set a new course…due east,” she shouted and couldn’t help notice the sound of glee in her own voice. “Let’s cut them off and see just who they are.”

A great roar of approval sounded throughout the ship and Wicks heard answering cheers from the neighboring ships as the signal flags were raised, spreading the message along.

“Full oars!” Wicks ordered and almost at once the speed of the ship increased noticeably…the men were anxious to fight and that suited the Captain just fine.

She fingered the hilt of her kali as the ships in the distance grew closer and it wasn’t long before she could make out over a dozen heavy triremes in formation and nearly twice that in support craft.

Wicks’ heart hammered in her chest.

“Captain…we are outnumbered,” whispered first mate Armitage as he moved to her side. He was an enormous man, just passed his prime, with beefy arms and broad shoulders. His face was lined with creases and tanned brown from the sun. He was a hard, professional sailor, who knew the sea, his ship and his men well, but he was also exceptionally loyal to his commander. In his mind, Captain Wicks’ fast thinking had saved them from disaster several times at the battle of Eno. He was quite sure that without her leadership he would now be resting on the bottom of the Eno harbor just off the coast of Toranado like so many of his friends who had the distinct misfortune of serving on other ships…with less talented commanders.

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Wicks answered tersely then glanced over and gave a slight wink to Armitage.

“Well just move in a little closer for a look,” she added and together they watched as the ships in the distance finally spotted their approach and turned off their course to intercept them.

As they moved closer to shore, they spotted more ships in the distance, sailing just behind the initial group. Captain Wicks felt her heart drop. If these ships were under the command of the High King then the Massi coast was lost and she would be hard pressed to defend the harbor at Cape. They may even have to abandon their position and make a run for it out to sea, if so Phillip would have to be warned.

“Cassinni!” Shouted Raskin, a young sailor with very sharp eyes.

“Are you sure?” Wicks asked.

The young man nodded. He was their prime lookout and the pride of the ship. No one had better eyes in Captain Wicks’ estimation. It was an opinion all on the Universe shared.

First mate Armitage clapped the lad on the back. “Now we just need to find out if the Cassinni have bedded down with the High King,” he commented.

Wicks pursed her lips. “Lift oars,” she commanded. “Let’s come to a stop. They will have to make the first move. We can’t risk sailing into them if they’ve joined Mastoc. The ship’s speed dropped off and soon they were dead in the water, bobbing up and down with the passing of the low swells.

“Turn the ships,” Armitage shouted and at once the small group of Toranado ships came about, preparing to flee.

But such precautions were not necessary, for only one heavy trireme of the Cassinni approached, breaking away from the others to sail closer all alone.

“It would seem,” Wicks commented, “that our caution has not gone unnoticed.”

“And that the Cassinni have not joined with Caiman…the traitor,” Armitage added with a smile.

“That still has yet to be seen,” Wicks answered, ever cautious, but the signs were good and they all had reason for optimism as the lone ship approached closer and closer, coming with only half oars.

“Slip starboard,” Armitage yelled the order as the Cassinni ship drew in and the two ships moved in unison in order to get just as close as possible in the mild seas. Even so, with their oars in the way, they could not come near enough to communicate other than through shouts, but once close, the Cassinni vessel lowered a small row boat over the side and five men climbed down to fill it, then the small boat made its way quickly to the side of the Universe.

“Hallo!” Shouted a small man who stood at the bow of the rowboat. He shifted his weight smoothly as it rose and fell in the swells of the turbulent water between the two large ships, obviously a seasoned seaman. He was smiling up at Captain Wicks cheerfully, and waving excitedly.

“And you are?” She asked, but nodded to her first mate to continue with the boarding process. The man did not answer as he struggled up the rope ladder that dropped over the pitching Universe.

“Ah…that’s much better,” the little round man said once he climbed aboard.

Captain Fatima Wicks fought hard to conceal her amusement. The little man was obviously an admiral, but his stature was something of a surprise, especially when he stood next to the towering Armitage. As Fatima greeted him she noticed he was easily a half head shorter than she, though the man was stout with broad shoulders.  But Wicks was not a tall woman, above average perhaps…but not tall.

“I’m Captain Wicks of the Toranado,” she said with a formal bow, and if possible the little man’s smile grew larger.

“Ah yes…Captain Wicks…Thomas spoke very highly of you on several occasions,” the man answered and it took Fatima several seconds to realize that he was referring to Admiral Cantu, her old commander and mentor.

“And you are?” She asked, repeating her question.

“Oh yes…Admiral Seymour of the Cassinni, at your service.”

“At my service?” Wicks asked taking the man’s hand.

Seymour nodded. “Yes, King Marc has ruled that we will place a blockade around the Massi homeland at the request of Prince Gwaynn.”

“Blockade?”

Again Seymour smiled and nodded. “We’ve five hundred ships that will stretch from the tip of the Massi finger to Cape if you so allow. No Palmerrio or Rhondono warships will be permitted to land.”

Wicks stood stunned for several moments and then glanced at the smiling Armitage.

“You know what this means?” she asked her first mate.

“The hunt is on,” Armitage confirmed with a nod and broke into a smile. Captain Wicks reached out and took Admiral Seymour’s hand once more, pumping it up and down enthusiastically.

“Well met Admiral,” she said, “very well met.”

ǂ

Gwaynn slept through the entire night, all the next morning and into the afternoon. While he slept, Samantha helped Cobb out to the north side of town to see Doctor Linkler. Cobb was cut badly but he was far from murdered and required thirty-three stitches across his large chest and a cool rag for the knot on his head. Once he was patched up Samantha enlisted the help of the townsfolk and they all buried Emm, Adna and Raisa Botnick in the light cool mist that hung over the land. It felt strange to Samantha that the Botnick’s should be dead, that they were gone the previous night even as she and Gwaynn slept in their home. She’d slept well, comforted by the warm presence of her lover and even now, as she and Cobb left the cemetery with the Botnick’s safely resting under fresh dirt; she felt a guilty pleasure at the idea of returning to their home to be with Gwaynn once more.

Samantha was thankful that Cobb remained quiet on the walk back home. She didn’t want to talk; she felt as if she might never want to talk again. She waddled a bit now…growing heavy with child, and walked with one hand on her growing abdomen.

‘Emm was dead.  The Botnick’s were dead.’ She should feel something for them but all she felt was her own living body. They were dead, but she was oddly conscious of her own breathing, the comfortable feel of her chest as it rose and fell in time with her steps. The Botnick’s were no longer breathing and they couldn’t feel the fine mist as it collected on their cheeks and ran in droplets under their collars. But their home was still here; filled with the many things the couple collected over the years together. It was strange that somehow these things, the home itself, were somehow more permanent and lasting than the inhabitants themselves.

‘Why should that be?’ Samantha thought to herself. ‘And why, with the Botnick’s so recently dead, should I feel not sadness…instead I’m happy and excited to be going home to Gwaynn.’

She did not have the answers, and she found that as she drew closer to the fine house of the late town magistrate she didn’t need an answer. She was both happy and relieved to be alive…overjoyed that Gwaynn was likewise alive. It was a blessing.

“Emm’s with Krys now,” Cobb finally said walking slowly by her side, his head hanging low.

“Yes,” Samantha confirmed in response. Emm had taken the poison knife meant for her own chest.

‘Why would that happen? Why had Emm even come to the Botnick’s?’ Again the answers were not forthcoming, but as they walked up the front porch Samantha felt emboldened by her own good fortune. The Black Horseman did not want her; in fact he was blatantly ignoring her. He could have taken her so many times, from the time she’d fallen from Sunshine, her first pony; to the time Navarra tied her to the block and especially when she lost her arm in battle. In war, death was all around, sowing so many young men and women…harvest time. Looking back she realized that there were countless moments in her life when death was nearby, so very close. It would have been so easy for the Black Horseman to reach out and snatch her up, take her on, take her elsewhere. But to this very day, death had always passed her by.

‘I’m meant to live!’ Samantha thought happily as she entered the front door and bounced through the parlor and into the kitchen. Gwaynn was there, awake and eating. The house was still in disarray, there were large bloodstains at the foot of the stairs and crusty pools of it in the room off the kitchen. But Samantha found she didn’t really mind. Gwaynn smiled at her and before she knew it she was crying and running, and when she was in his arms she found she was happier than she’d ever been. They held each other for several long minutes then Gwaynn broke away, taking a piece of her heart as he went, but he did not go far, just returned to the table to continue with his meal.

“Hungry?” She asked with a slight laugh, looking at the enormous spread of bread, fruit and cheese splashed over the table.

Gwaynn only nodded his mouth full of food. He offered some to Cobb, but the big man just shook his head and sat down opposite him. Samantha however, found herself reaching out and taking a bit of apple and a slice of cheese.

‘Food…the Botnick’s food,’ she thought with another feeling of wonder. They sat silent for a while, lost in their own thoughts until Samantha noticed that Gwaynn was no longer eating. She glanced up to find him sleeping, chin on his chest, sitting upright in his chair.

She smiled and scooted her chair back. Instantly he was awake and clamoring unsteadily to his feet. Samantha put out her handless arm to steady him and he took it, looking at her with confusion, then love.

“Come,” she said and led him back upstairs and put him into bed.

“Shouldn’t,” Gwaynn protested weakly, but was soon sleeping once again. The early afternoon was dark and a steady rain began to fall, pattering softly on the roof of the porch just outside their open window. Samantha thought about going back downstairs to Cobb, who was taking Emm’s death hard, but instead she found herself pulling off her clothes and climbing under the covers next to Gwaynn. He didn’t move as she turned and pressed her naked backside to him.

She rested quietly for a time, watching the rain through the open window and thoroughly enjoying the breeze that occasionally pushed into the room bringing the sweet smell of clean, moist air. It was growing colder and she wondered vaguely if the rain would turn to snow that night. She smiled and then the baby kicked her…hard. She gasped and her hand went to her belly. Moments later the kick returned, softer this time but the pressure continued, and to her surprise, Samantha found that through the womb, her belly and skin, she could feel a foot, perfectly formed beneath her hand. She rubbed the bulge softly for a few seconds then all at once it was gone. The lace curtains billowed inward and smell of rain filled the room and the cold air caressed her face as far off a soft clap of thunder sounded and rolled away.

“I love you,” Samantha whispered to the baby. “I can’t wait to be with you. Life is sweet…life is so sweet.”

She lay awake for a long time before the rain and the dark of the day finally lulled her to sleep.

ǂ

Gwaynn woke the next morning to the sound of muffled voices coming from the kitchen below and to the smell of eggs frying. His stomach growled loudly and he sat up with a smile…feeling shaky and very, very hungry. He pulled back the covers and found to his surprise that he was naked. He did not remember removing his clothes the night before…no, the day before. Actually, he had no earthly idea what day it truly was, nor did he really care. The smell of food was becoming intoxicating, driving all other thoughts from his mind, so he dressed quickly and headed down the stairs to satisfy his stomach.

He descended the stairs as he always moved…on the balls of his feet, his step light.

“….ourse the Temple Knights still pose a problem, but Mastoc as High King is finished.”

Gwaynn heard a voice say and instantly froze three steps from the bottom.

“The Knights are laying siege to Manse. What if they attack again?” He heard Samantha say. There was a pause, then…

“If they do, Grace believes they will succeed,” came the reply, “the city cannot hold with its present defenders alone.”

“Well then I’d call that a big problem,” Samantha shot back.

A chuckle sounded…a feminine chuckle and Gwaynn finally placed the first voice…the Solitary Tarina re N’dori.

“Yes…the Knights pose a problem and they may take Manse, but with the Deutzani and Palmerrio destroyed and King Weldon prisoner, the Temple Knights will have a very hard time holding onto the country.”

There was another pause and Gwaynn nearly continued down the stairs.

“Gwaynn is the only logical choice now for the next High King,” N’dori said brazenly and Gwaynn was frozen once again. “Caiman’s forfeited his family’s claim to the position. The Families will never trust him again nor Prince Nigel, his eldest. He’ll also be stigmatized by his father’s actions, but he has little ambition in any case. He’s soft and only cares about his music. Still, something will have to be done about him if Gwaynn is to be elevated to the position.”

“High King!” Samantha exclaimed loudly.

N’dori laughed again. “Yes…unless the Families would be willing to accept Audra’s son Aiden as heir…but then Gwaynn would have to be willing to allow a Deutzani to rule over the Inland Sea.”

Suddenly Gwaynn was moving again. “That will not happen,” he said gruffly moving quickly into the kitchen. He stopped short, staring at the table which was laden with an enormous variety of food. Samantha and N’dori were sitting and apparently nibbling at the offerings while Cobb stood over the stove, cooking eggs and pan fried potatoes.

“Good morning King Gwaynn Massi,” N’dori said with a smile and a gesture for him to sit, He did so and immediately began to eat.

“King Gwaynn?” He asked, knowing that his claim to the throne should not be recognized by those of Noble Island. The rulers of the families ascended only through the blessing of the High King and no one in Massi believed that Mastoc would give such a blessing to Gwaynn any time soon.

N’dori nodded. “Noble Island has chosen a King or two throughout the years,” she said with a nod, “including Mastoc’s line so many centuries ago.”

“And the High Tar of Noble?”

“Tarina…” N’dori corrected. “High Tarina Nystrom. She’s a supporter of yours,” the Solitary added.

“What of Ethelridge?”

N’dori scoffed. “She no longer holds sway over the Council…she gambled and lost on the strength of her sophistry. When Kostek decided to step down as High Tar and join your cause, it gave the Council pause. When the rest of us decided likewise it was enough of a threat to the Noble way of life that they amended their ways and elected Tarina Nystrom. She leads the Council now. She’s gritty and tough…you’ll like her,” N’dori added.

Gwaynn nodded but did not say anything, he just sat and ate for a bit.  He ate a variety of meats, nuts, fruits and cheeses, plus nearly a half dozen eggs and a huge plateful of potatoes, his enormous appetite amusing Cobb to no end.

“More my King,” the simple man said with a laugh. “Eat more. You’re hungrier than Samantha was that time we…”

“Cobb!” Samantha yelled. Cobb immediately turned back to the stove, clearly mortified by his mistake.

Gwaynn, however, only smiled. “Perhaps I should starve you more,” he whispered to her under his breath and Samantha threw a piece of cheese at him.

“No need,” she whispered back and stuck out her tongue.

N’dori watched the exchange of the two young people with obvious pleasure but they all soon settled down to the act of eating with Cobb finally joining them. Even so Gwaynn continued to wolf down food for a good ten minutes after everyone else had pushed back from the table.

“Can you Travel?” Gwaynn asked, choosing to ignore the prospect of becoming High King.

The Solitary nodded. “As can you,” she answered. “Your speed and control were simply amazing,” she added. “You are everything Tar Nev claimed, but I was still…”

Suddenly both she and Gwaynn sensed a presence in the room but it was several seconds before a small shimmering appeared and a moment later a light and silvery mist drifted softly about in the middle of the room.

“Tarina re N’dori,” a soft voice said through the haze.

“I’m here,” N’dori answered using her ability to stabilize the connection.

“Tarina, have you made contact with Gwaynn?” The voice asked and Gwaynn recognized it as na Gall’s.

N’dori smiled. “I’m with him now.”

“My King,” the voice of Lonogan Bock said, clear and powerful now that the Speaker Bridge was fully formed. “I’ve sent Gaston and the cavalry ahead, but they will not arrive in Manse until early tomorrow.”

Gwaynn nodded, happy with the decision, though his General could not see the gesture.

“And the army?’ Gwaynn asked.

“Three days, maybe four,” Bock answered to Gwaynn’s surprise.

“Why so long?”

“We’ve just under a thousand prisoners,” explained Bock, “including King Weldon Palmerrio.”

“Do the Palmerrio soldiers pose a threat to the army?”

“No…they’re demoralized and many are wounded,” Bock answered with pride. “The victory was near total, thanks to Captain Gaston.”

“Then let the Palmerrio soldiers go,” Gwaynn answered immediately and N’dori raised her eyebrows. There was a discernable pause from the Speaker Bridge.

“Release them?” Bock asked, his voice betraying his confusion, if anything he expected Gwaynn to order their executions, something Bock did not relish.

“Yes, order them back through the Aleria Pass,” Gwaynn explained. “If they fail to comply execute their King.”

Samantha gasped and there was another pause from the Bridge. N’dori just chuckled softly.

“Prince Phillip may not like the strategy,” Bock replied and Gwaynn could hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course to continue to guarantee the safety of their King, the Palmerrio will have to vacate the Toranado Capital and homeland,” Gwaynn stated.

“Very well,” Bock said.

“Traveler na Gall,” Gwaynn continued. “How many troops could you and Zarina Monde move to Manse within the hour?”

Again there was a pause. “With proper preparation…several hundred…perhaps as many as a thousand if they’re quick.”

“See to it. General, give control of the army to Captain Brandt and move to Manse with the others…I will meet you there later today.”

“M’lord…Brandt is dead,” Bock answered, “killed by an Executioner.”

Now it was Gwaynn’s turn to pause. “Did he ever know about Cyndar?”

“No,” Bock replied.

“Just as well,” Samantha breathed softly.

“I’m sorry for the loss,” Gwaynn added. “He was a mighty fighter, a mighty friend. Any other prospects? We’re getting low on Captains again.”

“Marcum is here,” Bock replied. “He rode in with Gaston. I’ll give him control of the army…he’s a foot soldier at heart in any case.”

“Lynndon?” Gwaynn asked suddenly concerned.

“Sergeant Birdsong is more than capable according to Captain Marcum,” Bock answered. “And you know Marcum; he doesn’t throw praise around lightly.”

“Very well contact Captain Birdsong and let him know of his promotion,” Gwaynn replied finally satisfied. “See you this afternoon.”

ǂ

“We should land midway up the finger in two days,” High King Mastoc said once the bubble was solid, “but it will take another four days to move down to your position. Proceed at your own discretion.”

“And what of King Weldon?” Captain Hothgaard inquired. “Have you made contact with him since he engaged the Massi army?”

“There’s been no contact,” the High King’s voice came back. “But that is irrelevant to what we are planning.”

‘Irrelevant,’ Hothgaard thought bitterly to himself. ‘Irrelevant, despite the fact that the Massi Prince seems to destroy armies at will...and he has a force of cavalry nearly equal to the Temple Knights. Irrelevant! The High King has lost his mind!’

“I have over ten thousand Rhondono troops now under my command,” the High King said with confidence. “We’ll join forces and smash the Massi once and for all.”

“As you say, M’lord,” Hothgaard answered…deciding then and there to delay any further attempts to take Manse. He would wait until the High King and the Rhondono arrived. As far as he was concerned his main objective now was to keep the Knights strong and intact.

“I’ll be there in four days…five at the most,” Mastoc stated as if his very presence ensured victory.

“We’ll be waiting,” Hothgaard answered and meant it.

ǂ

Gwaynn stood on the battlements of Manse, which were still undergoing repairs from the initial attack from the Knights, and gazed out at his enemy with Samantha, Bock, na Gall and the Tarina Grace at his side. In fact the entire main wall of defense was now littered with many of the deadliest fighters in the land. Prince Phillip and his Weapons Master Tabernas were down a few paces with the Traveler Monde, Tar Kostek and the Solitary N’dori, while farther still Tar Endid stood with a group of students including Vio. Gwaynn was happy and relieved that Vio made it through her first battle unscathed, and in the other direction stood the Tars Myson and Halstad.

‘If only the Knights would attack now,’ Gwaynn thought.

“And they’ve made no move to renew their attack?” Bock asked. Tarina Grace shook her head negatively.

“Perhaps they believe the Palmerrio will soon be victorious on the Plateau and another attempt to take the city would be unnecessary,” na Gall interjected.

Gwaynn frowned. ‘There were Speakers among the Palmerrio; they’d found two among the dead and it stood to reason that the Knights would have Speakers as well…they could be waiting for word, or…’

“We need to get men to the Gap,” he said aloud though mostly to himself.

“The Gap?” Bock and na Gall asked in unison and then glanced lovingly at one another. No one noticed their shared moment but Samantha and she smiled inwardly, wondering if she and Gwaynn were so transparent when they first became lovers.

“To keep the Knights from escaping and to keep anyone from coming to their aid,” Gwaynn answered. “They’re waiting for someone.”

“Not the Cassinni, you can be sure,” na Gall said. The very thought appalled her.

Gwaynn gave her a little smile, aware that his General was now squeezing her hand in support. He was about to make some small reassurance when the Speaker Zebo Sorbello came lumbering to the wall, clearly excited.

“M’lord…M’lord,” he yelled up at them from his position on the ground below.

“What is it?” Gwaynn asked loudly, a feeling of dread pouring over him.

“I’ve news from Speaker Tearrio,” Zebo shouted, making no attempt to climb the ladder to the ramparts.

“Tearrio?”

“The Speaker with Captain Wicks...the Admiral…the Captain…the leader of the Toranado Fleet.”

Gwaynn’s temper flared and he frowned down at the fat man below, fearing the worst. He hoped they were not abandoning Cape. It would be bad news indeed. “Well out with it,” he snapped impatiently.

Zebo gulped. “It’s the Cassinni!” He shouted quickly. “They’ve come to the aid of the Massi.”

“The Cassinni army?” na Gall exclaimed with disbelief.

“No, the navy…hundreds of warships,” Zebo explained as Prince Phillip, Tabernas and Tarina N’dori joined Gwaynn and his group. Tar Kostek and Monde were not far behind and moving quickly. “The High King will not be allowed to land reinforcements on your land.”

“A blockade?” Kostek yelled down and Zebo nodded his head. Gwaynn stood silent for a moment as Lonogan and na Gall embraced one another, all smiles.

“Phillip,” Gwaynn said turning to the Toranado Prince. “How would you and your mother like to return to Eno?”

“Eno?”

“When Weldon arrives in Manse he’ll order his army out of your country,” Gwaynn stated confidently.

“And if they refuse to leave?”

“Then the Palmerrio King dies,” Gwaynn answered and Tar Kostek gasped, but N’dori chuckled softly at the bold announcement once more.

Phillip frowned, thinking for several moments. “Mother of course would be happy to return to Toranado. Losing Eno has been hard on her…she’s not the same, but I will not leave until all of our enemies are defeated.”

“We may still need the Toranado heavy troops,” Bock said alarmed by the thought of losing such a well trained and powerful force. The Temple Knights were still there, just across the plain, and Lonogan did not relish facing such vaunted warriors without the Toranado.

“I’m aware of that,” Gwaynn said with just a touch of impatience. “But I need to close the Gap.”

“Gaston could…”

“We’ll need our cavalry to deal with the Knights,” Gwaynn interrupted. “The Toranado could effectively seal the Gap from any but the most determined attack. And,” he continued looking pointedly at Phillip. “Eno will need to be secured…especially now, if the Cassinni are truly guarding our shores. If the High King is denied landing in Massi, he’ll turn to Eno. Sailing around the finger and landing in Deutzani would leave them with an extended march to reinforce the Knights. It would not be a practical or timely move.”

Samantha moved close to Gwaynn and slipped her half arm through his. “We would not control the Plateau without the Toranado,” she said with care, also worried about losing the very heart of their force.

Gwaynn glanced down at her and smiled, then took a deep breath.

“Jess,” he began simply, “can you confirm the presence of the Cassinni. I’m sure Zebo is correct, and if he is, then Eno may be the key to victory. If Mastoc is allowed to reinforce the Temple Knights with another army, we may well lose Massi, but the Knights alone cannot hold the land…there just aren’t enough of them.”

Everyone waited silently, thoughtful. N’dori studied Gwaynn, a smile on her face and nodded for him to continue.

“We may not be able to defeat the Knights as a force, but if we can seal Massi for long enough, we may be able to wear them down…especially with the help of our friends from Noble,” Gwaynn finished.

Now Tabernas and Kostek were smiling, but Prince Phillip was still deep in thought. Gwaynn waited and watched as Vio, Tam and Bethany approached along the ramparts. Finally Phillip looked up and frowned at Gwaynn.

“The Toranado will hold the Gap. Two thousand heavy infantry should be able to block the way for several weeks, certainly long enough to call for reinforcements if necessary. Eno will have to wait, but if the Palmerrio truly abandon the city, my people will quickly reestablish control.” Phillip said finally, “and I’ll send Captain Wicks to Eno Harbor. That should effectively seal the city off from the High King. I’ll stay with Tabernas and five thousand troops. I’d not miss the pleasure of facing and defeating the Knights myself,” he added and for the first time Albas Tabernas heard the King to be in the voice of his Prince and felt a swell of pride. War destroyed nearly everything it touched, but in some men it also created; not just the ability to lead men in battle, but lead men in any environment. Phillip was beginning to display such leadership; the horrors of battle had strengthened and tempered his youthful, immature personality.

Gwaynn reached out and took the Toranado Prince’s hand and they shook enthusiastically, Phillip gratified and pleased by the respect he saw reflected in the younger man’s eyes.

“Now we just have to hope the Knights stay put until we can seal off the exit,” Tabernas said, and the entire group turned in unison and gazed out at the enemy army.

XIV

Captain Wicks was surprised by the order to abandon the harbor at Cape and sail home to Eno, though she had full confidence in the Cassinni Admiral to take up the cause of guarding the Massi port city. Wicks was excited and happy to be going home; she relished the idea of having one more chance at the enemy who’d driven her and the fleet away. But the thought of leaving the Massi coastline was also causing a degree of disquiet in her belly. Something was coming; something was going to happen…and soon. Fatima had learned to respect any such feelings that settled over her. Today was no different, and as she led her small fleet of ships away from Cape she set a heading far out into the Inland Sea.

“It will take many days to reach Eno on this heading,” her first mate Armitage said as he walked across the gently pitching deck to her side.

Captain Wicks stood at the bow of the ship and continued to stare out to sea for a moment, but then turned to her long time friend and comrade.

“We’ll take a circuitous route to Eno…have a look about,” she explained, though Armitage did not require one. If his Captain wanted to push out to sea on the way to Eno, no sailor under her command would question her. And so they moved out to sea, heading almost due north. Three hours later, under full sails and quarter oars, they’d made nearly thirty miles. Wicks was about to order a more westerly heading when Raskin shouted from above.

“Contact!” He yelled and suddenly the entire ship was humming with anticipation.

“Merchants?” Armitage yelled up to the sharp eyed sailor.

Raskin looked down at the senior officers and smiled. “Not unless they’re moving in force…I count over a dozen of the bastard ships.”

“Heading?” Wicks asked her heart thumping strongly in her chest. ‘This is it,’ she thought but had little idea what caused such an powerful inclination.

“What heading are they on?” Armitage bellowed as the young sailor failed to answer.

“Due east, moving quickly…half oars at least,” Raskin finally answered.

Wicks glanced at Armitage and nodded. “Signal the fleet. Half oars; set a course to intercept.”

“Aye Sir,” Armitage said with a grin and the Toranado fleet turned to the east to begin the chase.

All through the late morning the ships on the horizon grew steadily closer and steadily more numerous, so that by mid afternoon there were now over seventy ships visible. Of these, however, only about two dozen triremes and thirty galleys were spotted in and amongst the lumbering troop carriers. Wick’s inner voice had paid off again, for the approaching fleet was clearly an invasion force.

“We should engage the outer ships within an hour…perhaps a bit longer,” Armitage said as he watched the oarsman shift once again to give rest for those who had pulled oars the last shift.

“Within an hour I’d say,” Wicks replied, the troops ships were riding low and slow over the sea and as they advanced closer to the Massi shore the swells would slow them even more.

A half an hour later Captain Wicks could clearly see the panic her ships were causing the crews of the fleeing vessels. A half dozen heavy triremes and another eight galleys had broken off from the fleet and were now moving directly into the path of the Toranado, hoping no doubt to slow down the advancing ships so that the troopships could make it to shore.

“Any sign of the Cassinni?” Wicks shouted up to Raskin.

“Oh yes…they’re beginning to converge in the distance, heading directly toward the main body of the enemy,” he yelled down from the rigging. He smiled and did a simple jig while holding tightly to the ropes.

“Good,” Wicks said softly. ‘We can concentrate on the warships for now.’ She checked the wind which was northwesterly.

“Armitage, signal the fleet, move us to the north,” she commanded suddenly calm.

‘Yes, this was it!’

ǂ

The sky clouded up in the early afternoon but as yet there was no rain, nor did the front look overly threatening. The temperature, however, began to drop significantly reminding everyone that winter was not far off.

“I think na Gall and Lonogan are involved,” Gwaynn said coming out of the bailey, but before Samantha could answer a soldier shouted a warning from the top wall of the fortress.

They both glanced up and then out over the Plateau in the direction the guard was pointing. In the distance they could see a growing cloud of dust, but even before Gwaynn could issue an order a group of horsemen galloped past him on their way to investigate.

“Of course they’re involved,” Samantha said. “They been together since they returned from Cassinni.”

“They’re flying Massi banners!” The guard yelled from above, clearly relieved. Gwaynn shook his head, anxious to see Gaston again, the young Captain was turning into a remarkably able commander, top notch, just as Tanner predicted.

“Since Cassinni?” Gwaynn asked and Samantha shook her head, amazed at the obtuseness of men. But she didn’t chastise her lover; instead she slipped her handless arm through the crook of his and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Yes…since Cassinni. They must have had some trip,” she said as they watched the mass of horseman in the distance approach. “Does it bother you?”

Gwaynn remained thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t want my General distracted,” he finally answered, “but I suppose I can’t begrudge him a woman,” he added and looked down at Samantha with a smile.

“I’m just a distraction am I?” Samantha teased and bumped him with her hip. Gwaynn just laughed.

They remained silent for a moment as the cavalry arrived. The majority of the horseman rode off south of the baileys toward the large holding yards that were set up for the horses. Samantha watched the men and horses thunder pass, awed by the sight of such power.

“We’re going to win aren’t we?” She asked as a smaller group of riders broke off from the main group and headed directly toward Gwaynn.

“Yes, we will win,” Gwaynn answered almost glumly, but before Samantha could say anything there was another shout.

“Gaston!” Bock said from behind. Gwaynn and Samantha turned to see Lonogan and na Gall approaching, not far behind came Prince Phillip with his mother Ramona and Tabernas…Laynee was running ahead of the trailing group and Gwaynn noticed for the first time that she was losing a bit of her adolescent awkwardness and in fact was growing quite pretty.

Captain Gaston and David Hahn rode up to their King, both smiling proudly. Gaston leaped from his horse and then bowed low to Gwaynn while Hahn, with his bad foot, took a bit more time to dismount and present himself.

“Gaston!” Bock repeated loudly and moved forward to embrace the young man. The Captain had been under his direct tutelage for more than a dozen years now, since he was just a lad of thirteen. “Tanner would be proud.”

“He would,” Hahn agreed and clapped Gaston on the back and then the Captain of the Massi archers bowed his head low to Gwaynn and greeted Samantha with special reverence. “M’lady,” he said and couldn’t quite stop himself from looking to her injured arm, but Samantha found she did not mind.

“I’ve an idea for the pike I’d like to run by you,” Hahn said addressing Samantha and she was immediately intrigued.

“I’d like that,” she answered but fell quite as Bock asked Gaston about his many exploits. The General had spent precious little time with his cavalry commander after the battle, and then Traveled directly to Manse to help shore up the defenses of the city, but he wanted desperately to catch up. Gaston’s timing of late was becoming something of legend. Under his command the cavalry seemed to be everywhere, aggressively moving and attacking exactly when and where it was needed. The young Captain’s instincts for battle were impressive and when Bock asked Gaston to reveal his secret he just smiled.

“I try to fight like Gwaynn fights…always aggressive. Hit hard and fast, it’s what Tanner would do,” the young man explained sheepishly, clearly uncomfortable with the awe and respect that was being sent his direction. But though he was uncomfortable, he found he enjoyed the praise almost as much as he enjoyed catching his enemy by surprise.

“The Knights?” He asked, feeling the need to face the ultimate cavalry force one more time.

“Quiet,” Gwaynn said with a knowing smile, realizing the reason for the question immediately. “You’ll get your chance, but it may be a few days. I need the army to arrive in Manse before I set you free.”

“Good,” said Gaston. “Marcum is moving quickly. He should be here late tomorrow or early the next morning.”

Bock frowned. “So quickly?”

Gaston nodded. “He’s leaving a contingent of troops behind to escort the wounded otherwise the bulk of the army is marching double time. The troops don’t seem to mind even though they’re racing to face the Temple Knights…I think they smell victory.”

“Then let’s hope they have a good sense of smell,” Bock quipped with a wry smile, but truthfully he’d be relieved to have an extra fifteen thousand men to guard the walls of Manse, just in case the Knights had ideas other than defeat.

ǂ

“Captain! What are you doing?” High King Mastoc shouted in alarm as the large Rhondono trireme began to turn into the chasing Toranado ships. At first Captain Deihm ignored him and barked orders to the flags mate who quickly signaled the other warships in the area.

“Captain!” The High King shouted again, this time grabbing the man’s shoulder and squeezing it hard.

“We have to turn into them,” Deihm spat, impatient with the other man’s ignorance, High King or no. “If we run and they catch us, they’ll smash through our hull like so much kindling and then we’re all for the fishes. I expect they’d enjoy High King just as much as Captain!”

Mastoc stood horrified for a moment, peering out over the tumbling seas at the approaching vessels. He glanced to starboard and saw that Hermes, the flagship of the Rhondono navy, was also turning with them. The High King could just make out the features of King Donnis gesturing wildly in the direction of the oncoming ships.

“But we’re in luck, the Cassinni are not pursuing.”

“Traitors!” The High King yelled, his anger replacing his unease.

“Yes…now remove your hand please so I can work,” the Captain said gruffly, glancing only briefly at the three guards that always hovered near the High King.

‘Temple Knights no doubt,’ Captain Deihm thought but found that he cared little. He was old and very near to the time when he would give up his war ways and settle in the north country. There he would command only his fishing boat…and perhaps his wife, but she was growing old too and would not be ordered about easily.

“Can we break through?” The High King asked and Deihm shot the man a look of disgust.

“If the Cassinni refrain from joining the fight, we have the Toranado outnumbered,” the Captain said as if to a simpleton. “But we will need time to gather our ships. If the Toranado commander is good they will move in before we have the chance.”

As if on cue, the Toranado ships banked sharply to the north and Deihm and his first mate instinctively glanced up to check the flags.

“No fool then,” Deihm whispered then turned briefly to the High King. “M’lord, get below or to the rear and brace yourself. We’re in for a battle,” he added with a genuine smile of pleasure.

“Blake, set a heading due west,” the Captain barked. “We can’t let them get the wind beneath their sails.”

“Aye Sir,” the first mate yelled and the Rhondono ships turned sharply to the port. “Full oars!” He added and the ship slowly began to gain speed until it was surging through the waves.

The Rhondono vessels held their westerly course for nearly fifteen minutes before the Captain cursed.

“We have to turn about,” the first mate said loud enough that Mastoc, who was now yards away in the rear, could hear him clearly. “Make a run for it. They have the wind.”

Captain Deihm shook his head. “We’d not make it,” he answered and pointed to the group of Toranado ships barreling their way. Curiosity got the better of the High King and he quickly moved forward so he stood closer to the Captain and his mate. He was quiet now however, so Deihm ignored him. And though King Mastoc knew little of naval strategy he could plainly see that the Toranado ships had turned with the wind and were now heading straight for them. The enemy ships were riding full sails and moving much faster than their Rhondono counterparts.

“Keep on course,” Deihm told Blake. “Our best chance now is to punch through and hope they attack the troop ships, then we can turn about and we’ll have the wind.”

Mastoc moved a few feet closer. “You’ll not sacrifice the troopships. I need them to conquer Massi.”

“I don’t think they’ll be landing on the Massi shore anytime soon,” Deihm retorted. “I’ll offer them up as bait for the Toranado and if there commander is foolish enough to take it, then at least we will have our revenge.”

“And if they don’t take the bait?” one of the Temple guards asked, clearly concerned.

Deihm glanced back briefly. “Then I hope you can swim.” Of course he had no intention of losing his ship to the Toranado; he just liked to scare the hell out of land lovers. He glanced to the starboard to check the Rhondono formations and cursed again. The Hermes was positioned perfectly only a hundred yards away and keeping to a parallel course, as were a half dozen other ships but one trireme and two smaller galleys had slowed to swing about and move back toward land.

“Cowards!” Deihm spat then checked the port and was gratified to see that only one ship was attempting to make the slow turn back to Massi. ‘They’ll never make the turn,’ he thought but didn’t dwell on their fate.

“Five degrees port!” He yelled trying to make for a gap between two Toranado heavy triremes but they only made about three degrees before the two fleets finally met.

ǂ

Captain Tramm stuck his head in the tent quietly to see if Captain Hothgaard, lead commander of the Temple Knights was awake. He was, though he was lying very still on his bunk with a fever and a raging headache.

“Captain,” Tramm said softly. “It’s confirmed. The Massi cavalry have arrived in Manse.”

Hothgaard groaned inwardly but was careful to make no audible sound. He sat up slowly throwing off his blankets, the chills had left him in any case but his skin was still clammy with sweat. He swung his legs around and stood up, feeling weak.

“That does not bode well for the Palmerrio,” Hothgaard said and walked to the small table near the back wall of the tent. Earlier the doctor brewed a strong batch of willow bark tea for the pain and fever and Hothgaard was working his way quickly through the large pot. He would need more soon.

Tramm just watched his commander without a word. There was a sickness running through the camp, debilitating but not deadly as yet, though a full fourth of the Knights were down with the illness.

“There’s been no word from King Weldon,” Tramm commented.

“He must be weakened or dead,” Hothgaard said, drinking a cup of luke warm tea.

Tramm shook his head. “Not necessarily. We nearly broke through their defenses; perhaps Prince Gwaynn is concerned about losing Manse. The war will be all but over when the city finally falls. He must realize this.”

“Perhaps,” Hothgaard said, though deep inside he did not believe it. His instincts told him that the young Prince of Massi had crushed the Palmerrio army just as he crushed the Deutzani. He was proving to be an excellent field general and was beginning to make Hothgaard uneasy.

“Any word from the High King? Has he landed yet?”

“No word yet,” Tramm answered but he was not worried, when the Rhondono arrived with their ten thousand foot soldiers they would be the dominant force in the land. It would just be a matter of time before they ground the Massi down.

Hothgaard just frowned. From the beginning he argued against splitting their forces but King Mastoc insisted the Palmerrio circle around to the Plateau. If their armies had stayed together the Massi would have had no chance of defeating them. And though the High King’s plan could have led to a quick and decisive victory, it also left them vulnerable to many unforeseen variables. Now, it seemed they were being picked apart.

“He’s not due to land until later this afternoon,” Tramm added.

Hothgaard drained his cup. “I’ll still feel better once his forces are on dry land.”

Tramm glanced at his commander, suddenly concerned. “You still fear the Toranado navy?”

Hothgaard nodded. “Always. The latest reports put them in the harbor around Cape, but if they extend their patrols it’s possible they could spot the slow moving troopships. They would not fare well against heavy triremes.”

“Should I send for Speaker Nadler?”

Hothgaard shook his head. “No…we’ll wait. If there’s no word by tomorrow morning we’ll contact the High King. Now let me rest and get over this damned sickness. Have the doctor brew more tea.” He ordered and moved back to his bunk. His fever was returning and with it the chills. He crawled back under the covers without another glance at his fellow Captain. For the first time in his life he was actually grateful for the siege; it allowed for the luxury of rest.

ǂ

“ Port oars!” First mate Armitage yelled and with smooth precision half the ships oars were raised and pulled inside the trireme for safety. Captain Wicks grabbed tightly to one of the reinforced railings that weaved throughout the ship and hung on as the bow of her trireme struck the smaller Rhondono vessel in the aft quarter. Almost immediately the Toranado ship, the Universe, lurched and shuddered, but its momentum carried it through the smaller ship with a colossal explosion of wood and noise. Planks, oars and beams cracked and tore under the massive force of the ramming and the collision threw large splinters of wood all about the wounded vessel. Wicks was vaguely aware of the screams of men and boys, and caught sight of a few enemy sailors as they were hurled out and into the sea below.

“Archers!” Armitage shouted but there was no need, already nearly two dozen men were launching flaming arrows down at the stricken vessel. “Starboard full oars!” the first mate added over the noise and chaos and immediately the oarsmen began to pull for all they were worth. The grinding of the two ships continued for several long minutes and then quite suddenly they were through and in the open sea once more.

“Turn us about,” Captain Wicks commanded loudly but with her unusual calm. The large ship began its slow turn, and the ship’s archers rushed from the port side to the starboard. “Hold you fire,” Wicks added, glancing at the wounded ship and watching dispassionately at the mad scramble. The enemy sailors were trying desperately to stay out of the sea while their vessel quickly foundered. Wicks knew the stricken Rhondono ship was doomed and any additional shot was just a waste of good arrows.

Captain Wicks turned, looked out to sea and saw a mass of destruction in the wake of the two colliding fleets. Nearly a dozen Rhondono ships were now damaged and sinking, some slowly and some incredible fast. An equal number were now disabled and floating dead in the water. Only four of the Rhondono ships managed to successfully make their way through the Toranado threat and were now heading toward open water, all pulling full oars.

To the north Armitage spotted and pointed out a Rhondono ship that failed to pull their starboard oars in time before the Blue Bull, another Toranado trireme struck, and now the side of the Rhondono ship was a mass of splintered wood. The starboard oars on the stricken vessel were now useless, but the ship was still largely intact. Once through, the Blue Bull angled south and zeroed in on another small galley. Wicks could see the crew of the damaged Rhondono vessel scrambling to push pieces of the shattered oars out into the sea while shifting a portion of the port oars to the starboard side.

Wicks nodded grimly. “Make way…full oars, ramming speed,” she said calmly and the ship slowly began to turn in the direction of her new victim. The Universe was pushing through the light seas at nearly full speed by the time the Rhondono vessel finally began to right itself and get underway, very slowly.

“You’ve seen the flag?” Armitage asked softly standing close to Captain Wicks’ side.

The Captain glanced up expecting to find the royal flag of the Rhondono. She’d not given the matter any thought, and in fact had not even bothered to look until now; an enemy ship was an enemy ship, no matter who was on board. But what she saw caused her heart to skip a beat and excitement to swell in her breast.

The flag was easily recognizable, a stark yellow griffin on a field of black; the flag of the High King.

“Could it be?” She wondered aloud as the distance between the ships steadily declined. The Rhondono vessel was now moving directly away from them no more than three hundred yards ahead, but with only half its oars cutting through the water it was moving at a much slower pace.

“Should we continue?” Armitage asked, clearly concerned about mounting an attack on the High King of the Inland Sea.

But Captain Wicks did not answer directly. ‘Here was the man who’d given his blessing to the attack on Toranado; here was the man who’d ordered the destruction of her beloved fleet; here was the man who was the ultimate killer of her mentor Admiral Cantu. And here, High King Caiman Mastoc would die at her whim, at her hand.’

A smile slowly spread across the face of Captain Wicks. “Full speed…full speed! Prepare the archers.”

ǂ

High King Mastoc watched in horrified fascination as the Toranado heavy trireme steadily gained on the slightly smaller Rhondono vessel.

“We need more speed,” Captain Astis of the Temple Knights said loudly.

The Rhondono Captain ignored the obvious statement as foolish. There was little he could do but run as fast and as far as they could and hope that perhaps another Rhondono ship would come to their aid. But as Deihm scanned the nearby sea, he realized that there were no friendly ships near enough to reach them before the Toranado trireme. He was both gratified and disappointed that the Hermes, the flagship carrying King Donnis, was successful in running the gauntlet and was presently moving away from the battle at top speed.

“We’ve three men to every oar,” Maglo, the first mate informed the Captain, meaning they were moving at their maximum speed. Normally they pulled two men to an oar but with twice the number of oars, but working with a full complement of oars was no longer an option.

“Aye,” Captain Deihm answered quietly, continuing to watch the gap between the two ships shrink. When it was gone it would undoubtedly mean the death of his ship, the Cardinal.

“We should turn,” Maglo offered. “Hope they make a mistake.”

Deihm shook his head. “We’d never make it with half oars.”

Maglo made no reply, He knew his Captain was correct, so the four men just stood and waited for the inevitable, which was nerve racking.

“Archers!” Maglo yelled when the Toranado vessel was within range, and soon flaming arrows were flying across the shrinking expanse between the two ships

“Make for land!” Mastoc ordered moving away from the arrows that were now falling on the aft section of the ship.

Captain Deihm glared at the High King but made no reply instead after a few moments he yelled. “Prepare for impact!”

Mastoc rushed by the Captain and his first mate, the Temple Knights in his wake, but they all stopped and turned as the Deihm yelled out another warning. Mastoc gasped. The trailing trireme was now only fifteen yards behind and growing impossibly large. Mesmerized, Mastoc stood frozen and just watched as the heavy ship surged closer and closer until it finally hit. The impact was far greater than the High King would have guessed. It was loud and violent, throwing the Mastoc to the deck along with nearly half the Rhondono crew.

The Toranado ship struck the Cardinal in the rear, just to the right of center, and smashed through the tail section causing the smaller ship to violently swing to port. Just before the collision, the heavy trireme pulled in its own oars for protection, but its momentum continued to push it through the wounded ship with terrifying force.

High King Mastoc climbed to his feet, watching in awe as the large ship slowly smashed through the rear of his own and then it was by and gliding past. Arrows flew steadily from the Toranado vessel and they fell all around; a few struck dangerously close to the High King. Mastoc shifted and crouched behind a low bulkhead until the Toranado ship sailed farther on.

All over the deck sailors were climbing to their feet, though Mastoc was quick to notice that both Captain Deihm and his first mate were already up and shouting orders. Miraculously the men below were still manning the oars and the ship was making headway.

“Ten degrees port!” The Captain yelled, but the ship failed to respond. Maglo ran aft to inspect the damage but returned quickly.

“The rudder is smashed,” the first mate reported, “and we’re taking on water.”

“Make for land!” Mastoc yelled moving closer to the Captain.

“Shut up fool!” The Captain replied and was about to turn away when his head suddenly jumped from his body and rolled across the deck. Captain Astis of the Temple Knights pointed his bloody kali at first mate Maglo.

“Make for shore,” he said with just a touch of anger, and after the briefest hesitation Maglo nodded.

“Forty degrees port!” He ordered loudly, knowing with the rudder smashed the order was all but useless. The aft section was just so much kindling and with only oars to negotiate steering they would be lucky to make it through the turn at all. They had no chance of making it to land before they foundered. But surprisingly fear made the sailors of the Cardinal strong and they nearly made the turn before the Toranado trireme returned and this time the ship rammed them dead center on the starboard side. It knifed cleanly through the smaller ship, cutting it neatly in two.

The High King was again thrown to the deck, which pitched steeply; he held his hands to his ears trying to lessen the deafening sound of splintering wood. When the immediate danger passed, Mastoc glanced up, dazed. He tried to gain his feet and yelled for help, but his voice was lost among the screams of the mortally wounded. Mastoc struggled to stand but suddenly the ship rolled violently and the King began to slide toward the water. At the last minute, just before pitching over the edge, he reached out and grasped a railing and held on for his life. Surprisingly the ship seemed to right itself and for a brief moment Mastoc thought everything might be alright, but a quick look around showed only chaos. The ship was cut in two; the aft section was already going down with surprising speed. The High King caught sight of dozens of men on the doomed section hanging on; their eyes wide with terror, while others fell or jumped off into the sea. He glanced about for help, any help and realized that Captain Astis and all the Knights were missing from the deck, as was the first mate Maglo. There was a young sailor perhaps twenty feet away, but the horror reflected in her face convinced Mastoc that she would be of little help. He could swim and looked out to sea trying to gauge the distance to land and noticed that the Cassinni were indeed attacking the troopships.

‘Traitors!’  He thought once again.

The fore part of the ship stayed upright and afloat for several minutes before suddenly tilting and with astonishing speed tipped nose first and dove into the deep. In his terror, the High King foolishly kept a death grip on the railing as the ship sliced through the surface. Mastoc was ten feet underwater before he thought to release his hold on the doomed craft, but finally he relaxed his fingers and tried to push away. But instead of popping to the surface, Mastoc continued his descent, caught in the strong undertow of the sinking vessel. Ten, twenty, thirty feet farther into the deep he went until finally he managed to move far enough away to stop himself from plunging deeper. Lungs bursting, the High King began to frantically struggle toward the surface. He did not see the mast of the ship as it raced downward until it was less than a foot from his face. It struck with enough force to break the King’s nose and jaw and without thought Mastoc jerked back and gulped for air. He was rewarded with only seawater for his effort. Lights burst from behind his confused eyes and he tried to breath once more and was lost. A minute later the High King was dead and slowly following the Cardinal to the bottom of the Inland Sea.

XV

Vio knocked softly on the door, feeling nervous and a bit queasy. Her stomach started its internal gymnastics during the battle with the Palmerrio, just after she killed her first person, and it had been flipping and flopping ever since. She tried food, water and finally a strong mash offered by an older veteran Massi soldier, but nothing seemed to help, so finally she just decided to fall back into her daily routine. She would run, spar and practice with her bow, and try not to think of the dozen or so men she had ushered into death.

She was about to knock again when she heard a faint shuffling on the far side of the door.

‘Gwaynn couldn’t be sleeping still,’ she thought as she waited. ‘The sun was up full.’

But when the door finally opened it was a sleepy Samantha who stood on the far side.

“Oh!” The two young women said in unison. Samantha frowned slightly at the sight of Vio. The younger girl was shocked to find Samantha sleeping in Gwaynn’s room, though it was common knowledge that she was carrying his child, a fact that was pronounced through her thin sleeping gown.

“Yes…” Samantha said a little irritably.

“I…I was looking for Gwaynn,” Vio stammered, feeling somehow foolish.

Samantha frowned again. “What about?”

“I…I haven’t been feeling well since the battle,” Vio said hurriedly just wanting to get away. “I’ve never killed anyone before…I know it sounds stupid. I’ve been training to kill for almost five years on Noble with all sorts of deadly weapons, but somehow I never envisioned myself actually using them on a living person.” The words just fell out of her mouth as if on their own bidding, and Samantha’s features softened. Vio was a beautiful young woman and she obviously carried a torch in her heart for Gwaynn, but she was still nearly a child. Killing and war could be very traumatic for even hardened soldiers and Samantha’s heart went out to the girl.

“Killing is a horrid business,” Samantha said sleepily and reached out and grabbed Vio’s hand and pulled her into the room.

“Gwaynn’s out riding with Bock…scouting the Scar, but he should be back by mid-morning,” Samantha explained and plopped down on the edge of the bed. The bulge in her belly was clearly visible and Vio’s eyes moved from her obvious pregnancy to her missing hand and back. When she finally glanced up Samantha was smiling at her, somehow she no longer felt threatened by this young Deutzani woman.

“You’re very beautiful,” Samantha said and actually found the courage to reach up and touch the woman’s glossy black hair. “I can see why Gwaynn is attracted to you.”

Vio blushed. “No…oh no Gwaynn...well Gwaynn loves you obviously,” she said and gestured to Samantha’s bulging abdomen.

“Yes Gwaynn loves me,” Samantha replied and just saying the phrase somehow made it all the stronger. “But he loves you too…maybe not romantically, but he loves you. I can see it when he looks at you.”

Now it was Vio’s turn to frown. “Not romantically,” she said with such obvious sadness that Samantha actually felt pity for the girl. “Isn’t that the only love that matters?”

Samantha shook her head and took one of Vio’s hands in the only one left to her.

“No…Gwaynn and I…we lost so much love in our lives, family love, friendly love, love that endures and does not question…such love is far less fickle than romantic love. Gwaynn has such love for you and it is not without its rewards. Romantic love will come to you Vio Valencia and then it may leave you, but the love Gwaynn…Gwaynn and I offer you, will never let you down.”

Samantha hadn’t meant to offer love or even friendship to the young woman of Noble. The words just felt right to her and when Vio looked at her with misty eyes she knew her instincts were true.

“Gwaynn’s a lucky man,” Vio said softly, then jumped as another knock came at the door. Samantha patted her hand gently then rose and answered the door once more. Tar Kostek waited patiently and smiled at her.

“Hello Samantha. Are Vio and Gwaynn here? We’re going to start our morning run.”

“Gwaynn is out inspecting the Scar,” Vio answered, suddenly appearing behind Samantha.

“Well then, shall we go?” Kostek asked and both women could see his carefully concealed disappointment. “Would you care to join us?” He asked Samantha suddenly. She snorted a laugh and placed a hand on her belly.

“I’m afraid I’m not in much condition to run,” she said.

“A walk-run then. Exercise would do you good,” Kostek said persuasively.

“Well…” Samantha hesitated and was actually far from

tempted.

“Yes,” Vio interjected excitedly. “Please join us,” she added and grabbed Samantha’s bad arm. Samantha expected her to jump back in alarm at her mistake, as nearly everyone did, but Vio showed no signs of anything out of the ordinary and just looked hopefully at her. Surprisingly Samantha found that she liked Vio just as much as she liked her cousin Van. They both seemed to be exceptionally open and kind people.

“Alright, I’ll go,” Samantha added impulsively, not wanting to let the two people before her down. “I’ll just get dressed. It won’t take a moment.” She made to close the door, but Vio surprised her again and slipped back inside, while Kostek coughed and moved down the hall.

“I’m glad you’re going,” Vio said. “Do you need any help?”

“No,” Samantha answered, holding up her wounded arm. “I’m getting used to only having one hand.” And to prove her point Samantha wriggled out of her night dress quite gracefully despite her handicap.

“Oh!” Vio said softly again…gazing at Samantha’s naked belly. “How far along?”

Samantha looked down and patted her belly. “Just over seven months the doctor thinks, though Van thinks I’m farther.”

“Van!” Vio snorted. She couldn’t get over the respect everyone paid her flighty cousin…Van…a doctor. It was an odd thought for someone who’d known him only as a squirrely boy.

Samantha tilted her head. “Van saved my life you know,” she said and held up her arm. “He cut the rest of this off and sealed the wound before I bled to death.”

“Van?” Vio asked finding it hard to believe.

Samantha nodded her head. “Van.”

“Maybe he’s right. You are getting big,” Vio added and Samantha smiled.

“Your belly isn’t the only thing that grows when you’re pregnant,” Samantha commented. “These get big as well,” she added and lifted one breast with her hand and then giggled and slipped on her shirt.

“Oh!’ Vio answered with a timid smile of her own.

“And Gwaynn is sure enjoying the fact,” Samantha commented and with practiced ease pulled on a pair of trousers.

Vio blushed and then let out a high pitched giggle that surprised both girls. They looked at one another for a moment then burst out laughing all over again. They left the room smiling and laughing all the way to the courtyard, making several guards and Tar Kostek wonder just what they were up to.

ǂ

Gwaynn returned with Lonogan, happy that the area to the west of Manse seemed to be free of any threats. There was also no activity out on the plains as far as they could see. As he rode past the western bailey he spotted Vio, Tam, William and a few other students from Noble milling along the very edge of the Scar a little farther to the east. On impulse Gwaynn turned his mount and rode out to meet them.

Vio saw him coming and skipped away from the others to greet him. She was smiling happily as he approached.

“Good morning Vio,” he greeted, relieved that she seemed to have shaken off the melancholy that surrounded her after the battle.

“Hello Gwaynn. I’m sorry you missed our run this morning,” she said coming close to his horse and looking up at him with those dark eyes of hers. “But perhaps we could spar later…I’d like that,” she added and placed one small hand on his knee.

Gwaynn smiled, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Instinctively he glanced about for Samantha, realizing her tendencies toward jealousy. “I’ll try,” he added as William and Tam came over.

“She’s coming!” Tam said excitedly, pointing farther down the Scar. Gwaynn looked up and spotted two figures approaching. It took him a few moments to recognize the smaller of the two as Samantha, who was running very slowly next to his old master, Tar Kostek.

“I can’t believe she’s doing so well,” Tam exclaimed with wonder and though all of the students of Noble finished their runs over a half hour previous, Samantha’s delicate condition was readily apparent.

Gwaynn made to go to her, but Vio read his intentions and reached up to grabbed the reins.

“Let her finish,” Vio said then added. “She’s remarkable.”

Gwaynn looked down, surprised and pleased at the praise coming from Vio. “Yes, she is,” he agreed and dismounted, absently handing the reins to William, who took them with a grin.

Gwaynn walked forward with Vio at his side. Tam and William trailed excitedly behind. They all watched patiently as Kostek and Samantha slowly approached.

Samantha was still a hundred yards away when she noticed Gwaynn and smiled and she continued to smile all the way to the finish. She reached the group at little more than a walk, but she was dripping with sweat, her hair hanging darkly from her scalp. She was breathing hard as she stopped by Gwaynn and bent slightly at the knees.

Gwaynn patted her wet back and felt her heat. “Keep walking, it will help you cool down,” he said and after a moment she straightened and began walking. She reached out and took hold of Gwaynn’s hand as she went.

“I’m….” she began but couldn’t catch her breath enough to finish for several long minutes. “I’m going…to be an archer again,” she finally said and squeezed Gwaynn’s hand. Her hand was still slick with sweat as he returned the pressure.

“How?” He asked, confused.

“Tar…Tar Kostek, when he was a boy, knew an old one armed Tar, who fashioned a specially designed bow. The bow itself is attached to a thick wooden shaft that has a cup on the end made of wood and leather. The cup will fit over my forearm,” she said quickly catching her breath. Gwaynn could feel the excitement radiated from her. “He says he can make me such a bow,” she finished then turned and smiled so brightly he couldn’t help but get caught up in her enthusiasm, though he tried not to think of her rejoining the fight.

Gwaynn glanced back, thinking the others were following, but they were far behind.

“If you’re going to spar with Vio, I’d like to watch,” Samantha said startling Gwaynn. “She’s amazing. She’s an incredible runner and Kostek claims she’s even better with her kali.”

“If you wish,” Gwaynn answered tentatively, clearly confused. Samantha smiled then leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“I like her,” Samantha added. “Oh!” She added and her hand went to her belly. Gwaynn stopped concerned, but she just shook her head. “The baby moved…there it goes again.” She reached out and took his hand and guided it to the spot of the commotion. Gwaynn felt nothing a first but then something from inside her struck his hand.

“I think your daughter is trying to run already,” she said.

“Son,” Gwaynn answered automatically. They gazed at each other in wonder. Tam came running up quickly.

“The baby’s moving isn’t it?” She asked and without invitation placed her hand on Samantha’s belly. The others soon joined them and then they were all trying to feel the baby.

ǂ

The army began to arrive the following morning though it took over two hours for all the troops to march into Manse. There was a great roar from the townspeople who felt perhaps now the imminent danger of attack was over.

“What are they waiting for?” Prince Phillip asked as he stared out at Temple Knights. There was some movement throughout the camp, but it was very quiet and clearly the little activity going on was not preparation for another assault on the walls.

“I think I know the answer to that,” Queen Ramona Toranado said straining a little as she climbed the ladder to the ramparts.

“Mother!” Phillip said, surprised at her appearance. She’d spent precious little time out of her quarters since the fall of Eno. The Speaker Zebo Sorbello and the young Traveler Laynee climbed in her wake.

“They’re waiting for the High King,” Laynee reported excitedly in her small, girlish voice.

Ramona smiled at the young girl’s need to break the news. “Yes, but Captain Wicks reports that Lord Mastoc will not be attending this little party.”

“What do you mean?” Gwaynn asked, glancing briefly at Jess na Gall and then Lonogan.

“Captain Wicks has informed me that a fleet of Rhondono troopships were intercepted by the Cassinni,” Ramona said happily. “Not one of the ships made it safely to Massi soil.”

“The Cassinni?” na Gall asked as if she didn’t quite believe it.

Ramona smiled. “Yes, we are in debt to King Marc and all the Cassinni,” the Toranado Queen said, her affection for na Gall obvious.

“So the Knights are stranded,” Bock said and then turned to look back out at the enemy camp.

“Yes,” Gwaynn said but kept his eyes on the Toranado Queen. “You mentioned that the High King will not be attending…was he with the fleet?”

Ramona smiled and shrugged. “We do not know, but Captain Wicks reported sinking a Rhondono vessel flying the flag of the High King.”

“If the High King was truly on…” Prince Phillip said then stopped; the implications of the thought were too immense to contemplate.

Everyone stood silent for several long moments and in the hush Laynee moved to Prince Phillip’s side and stood very close to him. Tabernas shifted to make room for the young Traveler, smiling at her blatant infatuation.

“I think it is time to go home,” Ramona said to her son, who nodded.

“Yes, I think it’s time to see King Weldon and make our demands,” Phillip answered and looked to Gwaynn, who agreed.

“Traveler na Gall, could you and High Tarina Monde meet me in the main room of the eastern bailey in an hour?” Phillip asked. “My mother and her guard will need a head start on their way home.”

ǂ

“His General is with him,” Bock said as he and Gwaynn waited in the main courtyard of the western bailey. Tarina re N’dori plus Tar Kostek and Endid waited with them. Shortly, a column of guards entered, leading the Palmerrio King through the gates. They were followed by a small group of Palmerrio servants and then another column of Massi guards.

Gwaynn sat silently until the Palmerrio King was forced to stop some ten yards away.

“Prince Gwaynn Massi,” Weldon said scornfully with only a slight bow. “Queen Ramona,” he added with a deeper bow of respect.

“King Gwaynn Massi!” Lonogan Bock corrected and started to rise, but Gwaynn waved him down.

“King Weldon,” Gwaynn said calmly, then paused. “You’ve invaded my country.”

“It’s not your country,” one of the Palmerrio escorts piped up loudly.

Gwaynn’s eyes moved to the one who spoke. The man was young with an arrogant look on his face and anger in his eyes.

Gwaynn stared at the man for a long time, thinking that there was something familiar about his attitude, his stance, his very being.

“King Weldon,” Gwaynn repeated. “You have invaded my country.”

The Palmerrio King shrugged. “At the request of the High King,” Weldon answered.

“And you invaded mine,” Ramona shouted. “You will now order what’s left of your armies from Toranado.”

“I cannot,” Weldon answered.

Gwaynn said nothing for a moment then shifted his gaze to the large man just to the right of the King.

“You are Sanchez?” Gwaynn asked.

The man nodded. “I am.”

Gwaynn stood and moved forward. “It was your strategy we met at the mouth of the Aleria Pass?”

The General smiled and began to nod, but before he was able to finish the movement, Gwaynn slowed time and flashed forward, drawing his kali with blazing speed. Before even a second past he’d cut the General’s head from his body. It hit the floor and rolled away, a smile still etched on its face.

By the time King Weldon flinched Gwaynn was already taking his seat once again. Weldon stared at the stump of his General’s neck as it pumped blood onto the dusty floor of the courtyard and then his focus moved to the head that had rolled a few feet away. Slowly his eyes moved up to Gwaynn, his expression slowly changing from shock to anger.

“You! You would kill an unarmed man?” Weldon shouted at the boy Prince who sat before him. Weldon glared at Gwaynn despite the fear that now ran through his body. ‘No one can move that fast…it’s not possible,’ he thought and the young assistant who challenged Gwaynn was thinking much the same thing.

“It was regrettable,” Gwaynn said, “but he killed my best friend, who needed to be avenged.”

“You will order your armies from my land,” Ramona repeated once more as she tore her eyes from the head of the former Palmerrio General. The amount of blood upset her, but she hoped it upset Weldon more.

“I cannot without the permission of the High King,” Weldon answered with a smug smile.

“We do not think the High King will protest,” Ramona answered with a smile of her own.

Weldon frowned.

“You’ll order your armies out of Toranado,” Gwaynn repeated.

“And if I don’t?”

Gwaynn stood. “Then you will join your General,” he said and slowly began to stand. He was hungry now, but he would slow time again if need be. The young man who challenged Gwaynn earlier took a quick step forward to block the way to the King. Weldon’s eyes grew slightly bigger, but to his credit he did not retreat.

“The High King will not stand for it,” Weldon said defiantly.

“We shall see,” Gwaynn replied, and then in a flash he recognized something in the King’s vocal companion

“Hold,” Gwaynn suddenly said and stared at the young man guarding the Palmerrio King. “Your name please?”

Weldon started, and the man looked a bit surprised. “Calbrick,” the young man answered.

“You’ve the smell of Sinis on you,” Gwaynn said. The man smiled, then quick as a cat lashed a kick at the nearest guard and wrenched a kali from his belt all in one motion. He spun half expecting Gwaynn to be upon him, but the Prince had not moved.

“Executioner…” Gwaynn said softly and motioned for his men to stand back. The guard who was kicked scrambled up from the floor, clearly angry.

“Are you alright Nate?” Gwaynn asked.

“Yes Sire,” the injured guard replied, rubbing his right knee.

“Toss your other kali to Calbrick,” Gwaynn ordered and the crowd erupted in protests.

“Tar Calbrick,” the young man said, not believing his luck, but as ordered an additional kali was tossed in the air to him. He spun the two weapons skillfully and turned to face Gwaynn with a good deal more confidence than he had a moment before.

“No…no…not a Tar,” Gwaynn corrected and both Tar Kostek and Tar Endid broke into smiles. N’dori just laughed lightly. Gwaynn moved forward off the wooden Dias, his face already furrowed in deep concentration as he began to manipulate time. This kill would not be fair, but it would be designed to instill great terror within the Palmerrio King. N’dori watched everything with a happy sparkle in her eye; the young Massi King was indeed worthy of the great Tar Nev. Calbrick backed away slightly, very confident but as he glanced about at the others he noticed that no one on the Massi side of the courtyard showed any signs of concern. Their King was risking his life. He would obviously be facing a very skilled opponent, but no one on the Massi side seemed agitated in the least. He wondered briefly at it, but then crouched as Gwaynn began to circle him.

“You will order your men from Eno and Toranado,” Gwaynn said as he passed Weldon, glancing briefly at the Palmerrio King. It was at that moment that Calbrick pounced, just as Gwaynn expected, but Gwaynn was no longer where the Executioner expected him to be. Time once again slowed to a crawl and Gwaynn sliced easily through the Executioner’s right arm, the blow coming from a slightly different angle than the young man expected. Gwaynn quickly moved around and stood before King Weldon once again then released time. The young man from Sinis screamed loudly as his hand fell away. Weldon jumped and his mouth fell open. From his point of view Gwaynn’s movements were just a blur, much too fast for the eye to follow.

“You will order your men from Eno and Toranado,” Gwaynn repeated, staring directly into the King’s eyes. Real, deep fear appeared there as the older man stared back but Gwaynn did not pause to enjoy the look, instead he slowed time again and quickly cut the head from the Executioner and then sheathed his kali and return to his chair. He was very tired, and hunger was knifing through his belly, but he was determined to show no weakness before King Weldon Palmerrio. Time lurched forward, Gwaynn’s control slipping a bit in his exhaustion. King Weldon gasped loudly as Calbrick’s head thumped to the ground, even before his body crumpled. But his surprise was lost among the host of others, only N’dori seemed unperturbed by the eerily quick movements of the Prince. Her light laughter now filled the stunned hall.

“You will order your men from Eno and Toranado today, this very hour,” Gwaynn demanded again and Weldon gazed at him in sheer terror.

Gwaynn fought against another crippling cramp but somehow remained upright. N’dori could see the beads of perspiration on the young King’s forehead and knew what the performance had cost him.

“He,” Gwaynn began, gesturing to Calbrick, “was not a Tar,” he continued and stared coldly at Weldon. “He was not even a very good Executioner,” he added and N’dori’s laugh echoed once more through the courtyard.

“He…he was a trainee, not a Tar,” Weldon replied still shaken by the unbelievably fast movements of the boy in front of him. It was not possible.

Gwaynn shrugged. “You will order your men from Toranado,” he stated simply and spun one bloody kali for emphasis.

Weldon stared fearfully at the swinging weapon and said nothing…but in the end, he did cooperate.

ǂ

“The Massi army has arrived in Manse,” Captain Tramm said with surprise and dolefulness. Tramm was a handsome young man with dark hair and eyes. He was tall with a slim build but with wide strong shoulders and thighs, the absolutely perfect build for a Knight. He’d risen through the ranks quickly and was a deadly horseman, but lacked the experience to understand the subtleties of strategy. He was learning, however.

Hothgaard looked up and sighed. It was what he feared as the days past and no word came from the King Weldon. The Palmerrio had obviously lost the Plateau.

“How strong?”

Tramm shook his head. “Hard to tell but there are cheers coming from the city.”

“Not returning in defeat then,” Hothgaard answered, knowing that taking Manse now was beyond the ability of his forces, maybe even with the arrival of the Rhondono army. The desire to pick up and leave this land suddenly threatened to overwhelm him once more.

“No…it doesn’t seem so,” Tramm answered, then asked. “Any word from Gan?”

Hothgaard shook his head. “Nothing yet, the King should have landed on the finger late yesterday…or perhaps this morning. We should have heard from him in any case.”

“We should pull back,” Tramm suggested, moving farther into the tent. He poured himself a small glass of water from the pitcher on the table and poured one for his commander as well. “Maybe threaten Cape again and perhaps they’ll be foolish enough to abandon their safe haven.”

Hothgaard nodded his head, which no longer hurt and his fever was gone. He was still weak but would completely recover within a day or two. He sat looking at the younger Captain, encouraged by the young man’s thoughts.

“Taking Manse may be out of the question now,” he finally replied. “The High King will not be happy, but I think we should move to the east, put pressure on Lynndon, perhaps join up with the King at the base of the finger.”

Tramm smiled, finished his drink and set the glass back on the table. “They’ll have to move if we threaten Lynndon.”

Hothgaard shrugged. “Perhaps, but without the Palmerrio our position on the Plateau might not afford us any advantage.”

“You think Weldon is finished then?”

“The Massi army would not have returned to Manse otherwise.”

Captain Tramm frowned. “We need to draw them out. Lure them away from their defenses and out on the plains where we can crush them.”

“You speak lightly of the army that has managed to destroy the Deutzani twice and now apparently the Palmerrio,” Hothgaard replied.

“They were not Temple Knights,” Tramm replied confidently.

“Beware young Knight,” Hothgaard warned, suddenly very serious. “Underestimate the Massi at your peril,” he added, thinking about their recent clash with the Massi cavalry.

Tramm sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, but then Hothgaard stood. “But you are correct; we need to lure them out onto the plains. In Manse, I fear we will never defeat them. If we moved on Lynndon perhaps we can coax them to split their forces, then we’ll have them.”

Tramm said nothing, having no further ideas of his own. Hothgaard moved out of the tent and the young Captain rose and followed him outside. The cheers from the besieged city of Manse were still echoing off the distant Scar.

Hothgaard glanced around and noticed that most of his men were just standing about and glumly listening to the celebration.

‘Morale is falling,’ he thought. ‘We need to take action.’

Hothgaard turned back to Tramm who waited expectantly. “Pass the word. We break camp in the morning.”

“And?”

“And we head to the east.”

ǂ

“Tar Nev has taught you some of our secrets I see,” Tarina re N’dori said a day later as she helped Monde, na Gall and the new little Traveler Laynee, hold open a massive bridge to the Scar Gap. Gwaynn nodded, smiling at the Solitary’s control; he was not helping in the effort, his body still not recovered from his manipulation of time the previous day. Once the connection was made, thousands of Toranado heavy infantry poured through along with a couple of hundred Toranado cavalrymen and an additional five hundred Massi Archers. The Speaker Wynth also made the trip for communications purposes. They were to hold the Gap against all comers including the Temple Knights if they attempted to retreat back to Toranado lands. The bridge was immense and strong; it was the strongest bridge created since the passing of Galen Dawkins over three thousand years ago, but the group was not aware of the fact. N’dori was very powerful and both Monde and na Gall had grown in strength since the war began, the constant need for bridges and Speaker bubbles increasing their potency.

The Travelers stood in a loose semi-circle facing west while Prince Phillip, Tabernas, General Bock and Tar Kostek watched from relatively close by. Queen Ramona, who was still not well, was back in her quarters after much persuading. Captain Dolan would send out a squad of riders to the Toranado Capital to make sure the Palmerrio kept their word. Ramona wanted to return to Eno immediately and it was all Phillip could do to convince his mother to delay her trip and move by Traveler once they knew it was safe. She was ready to go home.

“Yes, Tar Nev taught me many things,” Gwaynn answered in a hushed voice once the troops were through and the bridge winked out of existence.

“Many things,” N’dori agreed. “Some that are not for the eyes of outsiders,” she reprimanded, her tone unusually serious.

“I’m an outsider,” he retorted and began to move off toward the kitchens with the rest of the Travelers. They lagged behind, walking slowly, his body far from recovered. “High Tarina Ethelridge made that very plain.”

N’dori grunted, glancing up at the flat gray sky. There was snow in the air but the small flakes were so light that they actually floated about in the air, like dust.

“No longer High Tarina. As I told you, Ethelridge has lost the Council’s backing, Nystrom is now in charge,” N’dori corrected. “Noble now knows that the Cassinni have joined the fight against the High King. We have a true civil war on our hands.”

Gwaynn glanced at the Solitary, pulling up his collar against the snow which was beginning to fall a bit harder now, but was still very light and in all likelihood would not accumulate. “And just who will Noble support in the end?”

N’dori shrugged. “Perhaps no one. But the danger is to allow every Tar to decide individually…like the Tars and students who have joined you. If such dissent spreads it could split the land and Noble into many, many pieces. I believe the Tars that remain on Noble, if forced to make a choice, will follow High Tarina Nystrom’s advice and remain neutral for now. After all they would be following Tar Nev’s example.

Gwaynn frowned.  “Tar Nev is not leading anyone, anywhere,” he spat with obvious frustration as they moved into the large dining hall.

“Do not be so sure,” N’dori answered the smile back on her face. “I’m here plus Kostek and the others, and he did stand for you against the Council not so long ago.”

Gwaynn grunted.

“But he’ll not fight personally against the High King,” N’dori explained as Bock and Hahn joined them. They sat at a wooden table large enough to accommodate thirty troops to a side, but they were all huddled together down on one end. Trays of food soon began to appear and it wasn’t long before all the Travelers were eating and eating and eating. Gwaynn and na Gall would have preferred peach juice, but the fruit was well out of season so they had to make do with meat, breads and nuts.

The group of Travelers remained quiet for a time just consuming calories, as Bock and Hahn stared at them all in amazement. “I’ll never get used to this,” Lonogan told Gwaynn with a smile.

Gwaynn nodded, his own hunger easing off far earlier than that of N’dori’s and the Travelers. He took a deep swig of water and turned to his General. “Send for Gaston,” he ordered and Bock nodded and waved to a nearby messenger, but Gwaynn did not wait and moved his attention to Hahn.

“How many halberdiers are ready?”

“Nearly nine thousand,” Hahn answered enthusiastically. “The men are practiced and ready. The Knights will be caught by surprise…I know it. The new diamond formations and the halberds will work. The Knights will not realize what they are up against until it is too late. I’m positive they’ll rush through the designed gaps in the formation, thinking to divide and exploit the lapse, without ever realizing they’re entering a trap,” he finished confidently, going briefly over the plan once more, though they all were very aware of it. The plan was wildly unconventional; nothing like it had been tried in recent memory, though it did share a few elements with another famous battle from Old Earth…a battle fought at a place called Waterloo.

“I hope you’re correct,” Gwaynn answered and looked to Bock and N’dori, feeling his own excitement rising. “The archers and light infantry will be the bait and if they can hold their positions, then the Knights will be trapped between the Toranado and the cavalry.”

“They’ll hold,” N’dori said softly. “I’ll be with them as will the others from Noble.”

“We’ll hold,” Hahn added with even more confidence than before.

Twenty minutes later the Travelers finally finished eating. Gwaynn, though sated some time earlier, continued to pick at the food until Captain Gaston strode in, his face eager despite the amount of war he’d experienced.

“Are you ready?” Bock asked as Gaston approached. The Captain nodded.

“We’re ready,”

“How many cavalry men in total?” Gwaynn asked, beginning to grow nervous about the plan. Splitting his forces was dangerous and they’d gotten away with it so many times in the past that he was beginning to feel they were due for a disaster.

“If I take Captain Kommidi and his men we will be about forty-five hundred strong,” Gaston answered immediately.

Gwaynn nodded. “You will be taking every man available…full strength. Keep na Gall and Sarbeth close…and wait for our call,” Gwaynn answered suddenly very serious, “and Captain, please avoid engaging the Knights alone if at all possible.”

“And if an opportunity presents itself to do the enemy real damage?” Gaston asked. Gwaynn shook his head, astounded by the change in the man before him. Less than a year ago, Captain Gaston, while not actually timid, struggled with a fair amount of self-doubt, now…well now, he was a tiger.

“You take it,” Bock answered, “but it better be one hell of an opportunity. Your horsemen are the very heart of the trap, don’t jeopardize that lightly.”

Gaston remained thoughtful for a time, then nodded. “When do we leave?”

“Within the hour,” Gwaynn replied, “ride due south for a mile or so before heading east; let’s keep the Knights in the dark.”

XVI

“The horses are gone!” Captain Tramm said early the next morning, nearly running up to Hothgaard in excitement.

“What?”

“The horses…the Massi horses are gone.”

Hothgaard stood quickly, his own excitement growing. “Are you sure?”

Tramm nodded, glancing about the camp which was already in the process of being dismantled. “Yes, our scouts just returned. The horses are definitely gone…all of them. The trail appears to be heading due south.”

“South…” Hothgaard said thoughtfully.

“You think they’re hiding their route?” Tramm asked.

“That’s exactly what I think.”

“But which way will they ultimately go? Possibly the Scar Gap,” Tramm suggested, “try to cut us off from the Palmerrio in Toranado and any possible reinforcements.”

Hothgaard shook his head. “No, they wouldn’t send their entire cavalry to guard the Gap, it would be pointless overkill. No, the cavalry will be heading east…”

“To help guard Lynndon and the pass to the Plateau…it could be,” Tramm stated.

Hothgaard shook his head again, wondering why his fellow Captain continued to think the Massi strategy was defensive, even passive.

“No…” he disagreed once more. “They’ll not be sent to guard the pass at Lynndon…with only the Knights occupying Massi lands there’s little need. No, the cavalry will be sent onto the plains, probably from Lynndon. Prince Gwaynn won’t sit idly by and wait for our attack. He’ll be aggressive.”

Tramm scratched his head and looked up into the cloudy sky. It was colder this morning and had the smell of snow in the air. Winter was now only a few weeks away. Their food was getting scarce and if the High King did not arrive with additional supplies there was a real danger of running out. There was only so much foraging they could do in an area before they would need to move on. The local farmers had long been depleted of any livestock and grain.

“So what would you suggest?”

“We’ll stick to our plans and move east,” Hothgaard answered looking up at the walls of Manse. “Send extra scouts out…immediately. I want to find their cavalry…also when we break camp, let’s leave a small group behind under Sergeant Vutek, include the Speaker Nadler. I have a feeling the Massi Prince might actually sally forth after us.”

“You think he’ll leave Manse and attack without the support of his cavalry?” Tramm asked, clearly shocked at the idea. Prince Gwaynn, though young, had shown no indications that he was a fool.

Hothgaard nodded. “Yes…and we must be careful not to be caught between the two forces…remember he has Travelers on his side.”

Tramm looked around suspiciously, even though he knew that Travelers could spy on anyone invisibly.

“And if they come from behind the walls of Manse?”

“Then we crush them quickly before they can coordinate any counter,” Hothgaard said hoping it would be so easy and he could get back to the King’s Island.

ǂ

Gwaynn was still getting dressed when Lonogan Bock burst in without knocking. Samantha, who was still lying naked in bed, scrambled to pull the covers over her body and up to her chin, her face going slightly pink. Bock did not apologize.

“They’re packing up!” He said and Gwaynn could hear the panic in his friend’s voice.

“The Knights?” Gwaynn asked, though he already knew the answer.

Bock nodded wringing his hands and pacing throughout the room. “I’ve already spoken to Monde and had her send a message to Jess…Gaston,” he corrected himself.

“A message about what?” Gwaynn asked. “Can you tell the Knight’s intentions?”

Bock looked sheepish for a moment. “No…but…”

“She’ll be fine,” Gwaynn said with more confidence than he felt, “and now that she knows the Knights are on the move she’ll keep a careful eye on them.”

Lonogan nodded, somehow feeling younger than the man before him though he was over a decade his senior. Gwaynn however, was far more experienced in dealing with a loved one heading for war.

“Prepare the army…but do it quietly,” Gwaynn ordered. “There’s no need to hurry, if the Knights break camp we can move out and bait the trap without the need for Monde and N’dori to weaken themselves. This could be a very lucky move for us.”

Bock said nothing, wondering just how many other commanders would count themselves lucky to be going up against the Temple Knights…he guessed not many. He left the bailey, walking fast; his mind moving even faster. He had a sudden desire to visit Zebo and talk to Jess again…better yet he wished he were a Speaker so he could talk to her with just his mind.

‘Yes, that would be something,’ he thought and wondered how hard it would be to learn. Obviously it was not impossible, after all Gwaynn was taught at a later age. True, the King was still young, but perhaps he could broach the idea with Jess…if he ever saw her again. Without realizing it he began wringing his hands again as he walked.

ǂ

Jess na Gall and Captain Gaston were currently thirty miles to the east looking down from the Scar and out across the plains below. Ironically they were going to use the very same pass Samantha had when she was fleeing the Executioner Navarra. Now however, the pass was guarded by a high wooden fence and a host of men and women of Massi…nearly two hundred in all. It was a sizable force but it consisted mostly of those who were too old, or too young to join the actually army. They were here under the guise of guarding the pass, but Gaston had little doubt that though they may send a barrage of arrows at any approaching threat, most would flee in the face of any determined crossing. The hope however, was to bluff the enemy into thinking the defenders were more numerous than they actually were and so move on. Or, if there was an attack, the defenders would be able to delay an army long enough for word to get back to Manse and General Bock. Most of the people guarding the pass were simple folk…farm folk, here to help defend their country and few among them had any formal training. But it would be unwise for anyone to underestimate them. The inhabitants of the Plateau could be quite ornery.

“I hear there are only the Temple Knights left,” the older man said, standing at the side of Gaston’s horse. The morning was cold, though the sky was clearing quickly which brought the promise of sunshine and a bit more warmth.

“Yes,” Gaston said absently to the sergeant in charge of the defenses. “Have you caught sight of any scouts or movement on the plains below?”

The man shook his head, and then moved his eyes back and forth between na Gall and the young Speaker Sarbeth. He unconsciously licked his lips as he studied the women, but when he smiled Jess could tell he meant no real harm.

‘Just an old lecher no doubt,’ na Gall thought as his eyes shifted back to Sarbeth, but then Jess closed her eyes and began weaving her arms about in front of her. Despite her deep concentration she could still feel the old man’s eyes on her. For a moment she wished Lonogan was here to chase him away, but then she projected and was standing alongside her horse. She glanced at the Sergeant who was now looking at her with a mixture of lust and awe. Purposefully she glided through him, knowing this would cause him to feel a bit queasy and slightly chilled then she was through him and out over the Scar and thought of him no more. She moved out…straight to the north, looking for scouts or any signs of danger. Finding none, she turned and headed back to the west, all the while searching for any enemy who might be watching and report their position.

It didn’t take long; the first scouts she came across were nearly fifteen miles west and riding along the Scar River. There were only three. She noted their position and speed and then moved quickly on. She came across another pair farther to the north, again about twenty miles out from Manse. When she was satisfied she turned and moved farther to the west to check on the main force of the Knights. But as she flew through the air she missed not just one, but two additional groups of scouts, the closest only two miles to the north of the pass. She missed nearest group because at the moment it was idle, concealed atop a forested ridge gazing out over the Scar River valley and watching the Massi cavalry gather on the Plateau above.

‘They’re breaking camp,’ na Gall thought as she reached the large body of Temple Knights still milling outside the city of Manse, but the camp was nearly all packed up. na Gall guessed that the Knights would be leaving their location within the hour, but where would they go? She thought about moving farther to the west in an effort to locate scouts in that direction but in the end decided it would consume too much energy. She also resisted the urge to enter Manse and sneak a peek at Lonogan, though she did hover overhead a moment. Finally, with a projected sigh, she returned to her body, once again missing the stationary scouts on the ridge observing the mass of Massi cavalry. They watched intently, waiting for the Massi to make the move down onto the plains. It was not truly na Gall’s fault, not even a Traveler could see everything when projected and the world was a very, very large place.

As Jess returned, hunger hit her body almost immediately, but it was not bad…projecting used far less energy than actually Traveling. She opened her eyes, reached into the saddle bag and pulled out a big bag of dried apples.

“They’re breaking camp,” she told Gaston whose eyes widened slightly. “I spotted a small group of scouts headed this way along the Scar…about fifteen miles east and another pair farther to the north. If the first group continues on their course they will definitely spot our point of crossing.”

Gaston smiled. “If they live,” he added and signaled his men to begin the crossing. Scouts went across first and spread out in three directions, the Captain taking nothing on chance. The crossing took well over an hour, forty-five hundred horses all lined up single file stretched for miles; even riding three abreast it was an impressive concentration of men and horses. The trail to the plains below allowed for no more than three horses side by side, and in places it narrowed to one before coming to the lone gate where the path opened up down closer to the river. The river itself was low and only perhaps four feet deep in the center channel and posed no real obstacle. However, the banks on the far side would show clear evidence of their passing. But that was to be expected, it was nearly impossible to hide the tracks of so many horses and men.

“Will you be strong enough to search again in an hour?” Gaston asked and na Gall nodded.

They waited on top of the Scar for a time, and then headed down, merging into the line almost directly in the center of the long formation. As they splashed out into the water, Sarbeth laughed and looked to Captain Gaston, who at the moment was too preoccupied to grace her with his attention. na Gall caught the young woman’s frown and smiled.

‘There must be some aphrodisiac in war,’ she thought pulling her legs up behind her and leaning over the large roan’s neck. Happily, she made it all the way across without getting too wet. An hour later the entire force was across and Gaston ordered them immediately to the north. When they topped a small hill he pulled na Gall aside and she searched once more for the Temple Knights. Again she spotted the scouts moving along the Scar, this time only about eight miles to the west. It took a bit longer to locate the scouts to the north, but she finally did so. They were moving away from them now, in a more northeasterly direction, toward the base of the finger. The main body of the Temple Knights broke camp and were moving slowly to the east, perhaps two miles north of the Scar River, still well over thirty miles away.

When she returned she found both Gaston and Sarbeth looking at her expectantly. “They’ve broken camp and are slowly moving east along the Scar.”

Gaston remained thoughtful for a moment and then turned to Sarbeth. “Contact Zebo and let General Bock know that we’ve moved down onto the plains and will be moving to the northwest.”

“Northwest?” na Gall asked, concerned about the scouts and the possibility that the Knights would push past them toward Lynndon. “What if the Knights move on Lynndon?”

Gaston shrugged. “Let them. They’ll lose a good deal of men trying to gain the Plateau. They can’t fight on horseback up that trail, and even if they succeed in reaching the Plateau they’d find themselves in no better position. No, they’re baiting King Gwaynn to take action…as Gwaynn will bait them. We need to be in a position where we can react to the coming conflict,” he explained then moved off to confer with Captain Kerr. Moments later, two groups of thirty men rode off hunting enemy scouts, one group headed west directly along the Scar and the other rode to the north.

ǂ

“Did you see them?” Bock asked as the High Zarina Monde opened her eyes. She looked at him in exasperation as if he were a small child who’d asked her if she could walk.

“Of course I saw them,” she snapped. “They’re a bloody ten thousand man army…not an easy thing to hide from a Traveler.”

Gwaynn smiled but did not laugh; he could still understand the mystery of the Travelers and remembered his own awe as he watched his first citizen of Light in action. He thought about that day…the day Gwynn and his mother died. Why did Navarra kill them first? Was it the fact that they were women? He didn’t know, but from what Samantha told him, the Executioner intentionally saved her for last…saved her for the rape. Why then had Navarra not killed him first or at least right after his mother and saved Gwynn for the having? After all, his sister was beautiful. Maybe it was because she’d already been raped multiple times throughout that day. Perhaps Navarra believed her to be tainted…a common man’s trophy. Gwaynn scowled, realizing there was no way to know the thoughts of providence.

“What’s wrong?” Samantha asked him but he only shook his head and gave her a half smile.

“Where are they? Did you see anyone left behind…anyone at all?” Bock asked, pestering the Traveler for information. The day was cold and growing colder and Gwaynn could almost see his General’s impatience in each visible puff of breath.

N’dori laughed as Tar Kostek put a calming hand on the General’s shoulder. But Monde ignored them all and turned to Gwaynn. He would always be the one she would report to, always be her King, even when they reoccupied Light…and now the High Zarina was actually beginning to believe that they would someday.

“The Knights have split into three large groups…all moving east or northeast. They’re all about five miles away right now,” she said.

Gwaynn nodded and turned a wry smile on Lonogan. “Let’s be patient. If we’re to reach the hilly region west of Claymont, I’d like the Knights a bit farther on,” Gwaynn said then turned to Monde.

“Any visible scouts?”

Monde shook her head. “Not that I was aware of, but you can bet they’re out there.” She turned to Laynee who stood beside Daniel, the young man who practiced with Gwaynn under na Gall nearly a year prior.

“Daniel can project now,” Laynee piped up in her singsong voice. “He’ll be a Traveler soon…he’s going to search with me,” she informed Gwaynn happily and together they moved slowly through the twenty-nine steps.

Gwaynn looked out across the deserted field that had so recently been the Knight’s camp while the others in the group watched the two young people with interest.

‘Perhaps I should project with them just to be sure,’ he thought but changed his mind. He would need all his strength for the coming battle. The Temple Knights had not been defeated for nearly a thousand years. Gwaynn was far from deluded and realized that the coming conflict would not be easy and not without cost whatever the outcome. Lives would be lost, maybe his, maybe Lonogan’s or Vio’s, people were going to die in this battle, many people. But Gwaynn also understood that the Massi did not actually have to defeat the Knights completely. Without a way to reinforce, the more the Knights were weakened the more tenuous their hold on the plains would become. As he fretted, Samantha walked over close and slipped her hand in his, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Daniel showed them to me,” Laynee was saying before Gwaynn even realized they were back.

“Where?”

“Not far…maybe two miles to the east hiding in a thicket on top of a long hill,” she answered.

“How many?” Bock asked.

“Six,” Laynee said. “I think five soldiers and a Speaker,” she added with a look at Monde.

“He can’t be trusted,” Gwaynn blurted quickly, catching the look on her face.

“Nadler…” Monde said. “Capture him and he could be used to feed false information to the Knights. His ultimate loyalty should still be to Light.”

Gwaynn considered this a moment. “Very well,” he finally agreed. They only had to keep the Speaker quiet for a couple of hours before their army would be in position to meet the Knights on their own terms.

“Can you take me?” Monde asked Laynee, who nodded as she shoved a handful of sugar cubes into her mouth.

Gwaynn looked from N’dori to Kostek, both appeared ready then he turned and signaled Tar Endid who was standing on the ground below talking with Tarina Grace, Vio, William, Tam and Bethany. They all climbed to the ramparts quickly.

“We’ll handle the scouts,” Gwaynn told Lonogan. “Assemble the army…we’ll be marching out of Manse before noon,” he added and felt Samantha squeeze his hand.

“I’ll be careful,” he said and was grateful that she did not insist on going. She stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. His skin was cold and fresh. Gwaynn was very aware of Vio watching everything very closely with her large, dark eyes. But she was smiling, and it was a true smile, which was unexpected.

“I know you will,” Samantha whispered and stepped back next to Daniel who was carefully watching Monde as she moved through the final steps. The group was ready, four Tars and as many students, plus Gwaynn. Vio was bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet as if anxious to get back into the action. She didn’t have long to wait, Monde opened the bridge rapidly.

“Travel!” She shouted once the connection was complete and the group from Noble rushed through. Samantha actually felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor Knights on the far side, having to face such a formidable group.

ǂ

“Sunk!” Audra Mastoc, Queen of the Inland Sea said incredulously, utterly horrified. “Dead?”

King Donnis Rhondono kept his head down as he kneeled before the young, beautiful queen. She was heavy with the King’s second child by her and he did not want to be the bearer of bad tidings, but he could see no way around it.

“It is not certain my Queen,” he answered solemnly. “It’s possible, though not likely that he was picked up by a passing Toranado ship…or maybe one from the treacherous Cassinni.”

“Caiman…” she said softly and was surprised by the wave of sadness that rushed over her. In the beginning, during her first months of marriage, the High King had been only an old, slightly disgusting man to her. He was someone she could never, ever love, but after Aiden was born, and she came to understand that the King shared her unconditional love for the baby boy, her feelings for him began to change. Of course love never entered her mind, for how could she possibly love someone over twice her own age, but now she had to admit that a fair amount of affection seeped into her heart for the man. And now he was dead!

Suddenly the enormity of the news washed over her.

‘I’m the Queen...the ruler of the Inland Sea,’ she thought and it terrified her, but then she considered Aiden and her unborn child and her fear grew even deeper. Caiman…the fool had left her in the middle of the largest war in a thousand years and then her thoughts shifted to Prince Nigel and his sister Anya, Caiman’s children by his first marriage. Nigel was a definite threat. He would have to be dealt with soon if Aiden was to have a clear path to the throne, but then her thoughts turned back to the war.

“Your…your fleet?” She asked tentatively, realizing she would now be making every important decision. She shivered visibly but King Donnis, who had his head down, did not see.

“Five ships escaped with the Hermes,” Donnis said overcome with sadness.

‘Such a waste of Rhondonian lives,’ he thought and experienced a flash of anger at the High King…‘perhaps the late High King…justice is patient and ever vigilant.’

“Of the others I do not know,” he continued. “But there were many Cassinni warships in the area and the Toranado are ruthless. I fear my ships are lost.”

Audra looked down at the King of Rhondono who had bowed his head once more.

“You will need to raise a new army,” she commanded, suddenly energized. The Kingdom had to be protected if Aiden was to survive. She felt her own flash of anger at the High King… ‘Caiman…you fool. You never should have left King’s Island!’ Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes and she rang the bell calling for her servants. She needed to get word to her brother in Massi, convince him to move his army back to Deutzani. Conquering Massi was now secondary. She needed to consolidate her power over the entirety of the Inland Sea. She needed help. She needed to contact Captain Hothgaard…find out where his loyalties lie; find out if he could escape and return to the King’s Island. And she would need to deal with Nigel and Anya quickly before they got word of their father’s death.

“An army?” Donnis repeated surprised. “My army is at the bottom of the sea, or dead in Massi.”

Audra frowned. “Then conscript another!” She yelled.

“But who will train them?” Donnis asked and suddenly realized that his country was weak and very vulnerable. They were beaten, and it would take time to regain even a small part of their former strength. Oddly, he worried not at all about the Toranado or the Massi. His concern largely involved the Palmerrio. ‘Would Weldon attempt the final conquest of Rhondono now that we are so weak?’ It was a real possibility and the implications terrified him. He needed to return to his homeland…he needed to plan.

“….train them. I don’t care who trains them!” The High Queen shouted but Donnis caught very little of what she said.

“Of course,” he answered automatically and stood, just as a pair of servants appeared. He bowed then came to his full height. “I will take my leave and begin immediately,” he added but left having no intention of raising an army to aid the High Queen; he had his own worries now.

“Send for Captain Benton,” Audra shouted as the Rhondono King hurried from the room. Audra was worried. There was no telling where the loyalties of the Temple Knights would now lie. It could be with her or it could be with Prince Nigel. She could not trust any of them until she was sure they would back her and her son Aiden. Captain Benton though was different. Captain Benton was Deutzani and very loyal. She knew she could trust him and not because he’d been the Captain of her personal guard for five years now. No, she knew she could trust him because he loved her…deeply. Yes, Captain Benton would know what to do.

ǂ

Gwaynn stepped through the bridge, his kali already drawn, but he never had time to use them. Four of the five Knights left behind to spy on the Massi died without ever pulling their weapons from their scabbards, the fifth actually managed to block the first of Endid’s blows before the Tar managed to send a kali up through the man’s abdomen, behind the rib cage and into his heart.

Tarina re N’dori stood above the Knight’s Speaker who was sitting with his back against a tree, cowering before her.

“Speaker Nadler,” N’dori said with a smile, “you will come with us. If you attempt to contact the Temple Knights you’ll lose your hands first, and then your head. Do not test me on this.”

Nadler nodded emphatically as Kostek and Endid pulled him to his feet.

Gwaynn said nothing during the small conflict, but he did gaze out to the east, searching for any sign of the Knights, but of course he saw nothing. When he turned around he was momentarily surprised to see Samantha watching him anxiously through the bridge that Monde still held open. She waved the stump of her arm at him and smiled. Gwaynn returned the gesture and moved back through the spatial short cut to her side, the others following along behind.

Speaker Armis Nadler spotted Zarina Monde and nodded only slightly. “Monde,” he greeted.

“High Zarina Monde,” na Gall corrected sharply and Nadler turned to her with eyebrows raised.

“High Zarina?” He asked then added. “Light is no more.”

“Yes…thanks to some friends of yours,” na Gall answered.

“Secure his hands behind his back,” Monde said softly then turned away from the man. He was a traitor to her home and her way of life and the sight of him disgusted her to a far greater degree than she thought possible.

Gwaynn hugged Samantha briefly. “I think it’s time for you to stay behind,” he said and placed a soft hand on her abdomen.

“I could stay back with Lonogan and help direct the reserves,” Samantha argued though she was torn between the need to be with Gwaynn and the need to protect the baby that was now so much a part of her.

Gwaynn just stared at her for a moment, then glanced to the south as the army began to pour down from the Plateau and into the town of Manse. Thousands of men began to fill the narrow streets before slowly making their way to the northern end of town.

“Sam, please stay in Manse…in the bailey,” he said in a low voice, barely above a whisper. He moved to her and placed his right hand on her belly. “Stay for both of us,” he added and Samantha frowned at him.

“That’s not fair,” she said scowling. “But I’ll stay under one condition,” she added and paused.

Gwaynn raised his eyebrows in surprise. He’d expected a much tougher fight; after all she’d been a part of nearly every battle of the war. Still, he was suspicious.

“What condition?”

“That Laynee stays behind with me,” Samantha answered and looked over at the young girl who was flipping her long hair, obviously mooning over Prince Phillip of the Toranado.

“Laynee…” Gwaynn repeated, surprised that he had not thought of it.

“Yes,” she answered, “Laynee will be my eyes.”

Gwaynn bent and kissed Samantha deeply, uncaring who watched. A great cheer rose up from the soldiers who were within sight, but Gwaynn tightened his hold on Samantha urging her to hold the kiss. When they finally broke apart, the cheer grew to a roar, and both turned and smiled down at the soldiers. Gwaynn waved to them.

“Agreed,” he said still looking out at his army. “Laynee stays with you.” He was standing on her left side, then reached out and took hold of her handless arm. He raised it up and the soldiers below cheered once more.

Gwaynn embraced Samantha one last time then quickly turned to Lonogan. “It’s time to move,” he said. General Bock smiled and shouted an order and the gates of Manse slowly began to open.

Samantha watched nervously, her good arm wrapped around Laynee’s shoulders as Gwaynn gracefully pulled up onto Eve. He gave her a quick glance and a smile before moving off and out the main gates. Once through the city walls he did not look back and it wasn’t long before the front of the army receded into the distance. It would take them four long hours to reach the open fields outside of Claymont and it took all of Samantha’s will power to keep from asking Laynee to project and scout the way ahead. Daniel stood a few feet to the left of the girls, leaning over the gate. He wished he could ride off with the others on one hand but on the other was relieved to be staying behind and out of danger.

As if reading Samantha’s mind Laynee said. “The Knights are miles away. They’ll be fine”.

Samantha smiled but still her stomach was churning. ‘This is worse than marching to war,’ she thought.

“Come,” she answered pulling Laynee toward the nearest stairs. “Let’s get you two some sweets to eat…get your strength up.”

Both Laynee and Daniel smiled. ‘There were definitely advantages to being a Traveler,’ Daniel thought and the three of them carefully made their way down the ladder and into town.

ǂ

When they were only ten miles northwest of the Scar River Crossing Captain Gaston asked na Gall to once again check the main position of the Temple Knights. Just to be sure; just to be safe. He and Captain Kerr waited impatiently as na Gall worked, still sitting on horseback. She closed her eyes and moved her arms rapidly about as if she were in the midst of a wild dream. Despite the Traveler’s obvious beauty, watching her made Gaston shiver slightly in disgust; she possessed what seemed to him an unnatural ability and it tempered any attraction he might have felt for her physically.

This time na Gall moved quickly over the land, first checking on the scouts near the river, but though she spotted the thirty Massi horsemen sent to destroy the threat, she failed to locate the scouts. This did not greatly concern her however, and she continued on until she came to the dusty trail left by the army of Knights. They were now moving quickly to the east just a few miles to the southeast of Claymont. The Knights were still some twenty miles to the west of their position and perfectly situated to be circled and then trapped on the plains outside the small town. na Gall returned quickly and reported her findings just as a small group of enemy scouts presented themselves before Captain Hothgaard and reported on the presence of the Massi cavalry.

“Perfect!” Captain Gaston and Captain Hothgaard said nearly in unison and both altered the course of their horsemen, each heading to a position about five miles northwest of Claymont, but because the Knights were much closer they would reach the vital hills overlooking the town much sooner than their Massi counterparts.

“They plan to loop around and hit us from the north, an unexpected direction,” Hothgaard said to Tramm once they were riding toward the northeast and his Captain agreed. It’s what he would do if he were in the Massi’s predicament.

“So we’ll be waiting for them,” Tramm replied and Hothgaard nodded.

“Yes, we’ll be waiting for them.”

“But what of the Travelers?” Tramm asked. “We have to assume they’ll know where we are. No one can hide from the Zars of Light.”

Hothgaard frowned. ‘Yes it was true; the Travelers presented a formidable problem, which was why they needed their own reconnaissance…in force.”

“Send out scouts…all of them,” Hothgaard said in answer. “We have our own eyes, and we’ll use them. Speaking of scouts…any word from Sergeant Vutek? Will the Massi fall into our trap?”

Tramm shook his head. “No word from Speaker Nadler as yet,” he answered. The lack of any news seemed to confirm his belief that Gwaynn Massi would never be so foolish as to leave the safety of his walls at Manse.

Hothgaard smiled guessing his friends thoughts. “Gwaynn will meet us eventually. Our presence is like a burr caught in a very sensitive place…sooner or later he will have to try to pluck us away.”

“But if the Massi cavalry are now on the plains to the east…” Tramm countered.

“Then we may very well find ourselves between two armies,” Hothgaard said briskly and Captain Tramm fell silent, not having considered this possibility.

“We should send some of the scouts to the west as well,” he answered, suddenly reversing position, losing faith in his old beliefs.

Hothgaard smiled at him. “Very well…but our real concern is the cavalry. I’d not want them at our backs.”

ǂ

“In the hills five miles to the northeast of Claymont,” Monde reported and Gwaynn frowned. This was not where he would expect the Knights to be if they were going to make a feint on Lynndon.

“Northeast?” Gwaynn asked, wanting clarification. Monde nodded.

“What of the Massi cavalry?” Bock inquired, becoming alarmed. The Massi army was only about a mile from Claymont in the empty hills to the west of the town, not far from where Gwaynn once hid from the Deutzani as they advanced toward Manse. They were in a perfect position to lure the Knights into attacking.

Monde shook her head. “I did not catch sight of the Massi horseman,” she answered, though in truth she did not even look for them. Projecting, though not as draining as the act of Traveling, was still very challenging especially when asked to repeat the process several times in the space of a few hours and she was growing exceedingly tired.

“We need to know,” Bock stated with growing panic, concerned for his cavalry and Jess at the same time, but Gwaynn seeing the exhaustion in the High Zarina’s face shook his head.

“Position the army first,” he ordered, “then send for the Speaker Nadler. We’ll try to coax the Temple Knights down from the heights. If necessary I’ll search for Gaston.”

It took almost an hour for the army to set itself in the rolling fields west of the town and as they worked, Gwaynn stood between the Zarina Monde and Tar Kostek and watched closely as the enemy Speaker Nadler worked. There were several guards standing near the man with their kali drawn, instructed to cut the Speaker to pieces if he showed any signs of treachery.

“Just report to them that we are marching quickly toward Claymont,” General Bock ordered. Nadler, who was sweating profusely paused momentarily, nodded once and continued. He was much too frightened to refuse, much too frightened to devise a plan, but even if he had one he was too much of a coward to ever carry it out in the face of drawn swords.

Nadler reported the movements of the Massi army to Speaker Worlund just as he was ordered to do and afterwards he was ushered off, his hands securely tied behind his back least he gain courage and try to reestablish contact with his own side.

“Now we just have to wait and see if they take the bait,” Gwaynn commented as Bock paced about the tent.

“Will you check…will you check for me?” Lonogan finally pleaded and Gwaynn, understanding the torment his friend was in, agreed.

He took longer to project than the High Zarina but not by much. Gwaynn felt a thrill of freedom as he left his body and moved up and out of the camp. He moved quickly, far quicker than anyone or anything could hope to move while trapped inside flesh and bone. He streaked toward the Knight’s position, arriving in moments. Gwaynn expected to see the Knights preparing to ride down from the forested hills and out onto the plains surrounding the town of Claymont. And they were indeed preparing to attack, but not as expected, instead the Knights, who occupied almost a half a dozen forested hills to the northwest of the town, were mostly facing away from the Claymont and the Massi army. Gwaynn rose up and searched the area. After several long moments he finally spotted the source of the Knight’s interest. A mass of cavalry were heading north, riding directly into their position and at the head rode Captain Gaston and Jess na Gall.

Panic seized Gwaynn. Apparently, the Temple Knights completely ignored the report of the Massi infantry abandoning the safety of Manse, and instead had somehow deduced Gwaynn’s plan and now laid in wait for the Massi cavalry. Even as he watched, the Knights began to jockey for position and were moments away from swooping down on Captain Gaston and the rest.

Without a thought Gwaynn streaked downward searching for na Gall, but on his first pass failed to find her, instead he came across the Speaker Sarbeth who was riding near the end of the column.

“Sarbeth!” Gwaynn said but in his present form he could not make himself heard, he’d never learned to create a Speaker bubble, nor did he know that it was not possible during astral projection. Again and again he tried to make himself heard but failed. He only stopped when the Temple Knights attacked and the warning he was to give was no longer needed. He briefly considered creating a bridge and Traveling but knew he would arrive in the midst of the battle on foot and in a severely weakened state. So he stayed, watching in horror as the Knights exploded out of the hills and down amongst his unsuspecting cavalry. It was not long before holding his position became impossible to maintain. With a great deal of sadness and apprehension Gwaynn felt his projected self being yanked back toward his body as if on a spring. When his two halves joined he staggered, his face white. He glanced first at Tar Kostek, and then at Lonogan Bock. Zarina Monde handed him a large slice of dried apple but he did not take a bite.

“They’re not coming,” he said in anguish. “They’re moving on the cavalry. Gaston is riding into a trap! We need to warn them,” he shouted turning to Monde, but it was N’dori who acted, in moments a bridge popped open and the Solitary rushed through and disappeared.

ǂ

“It would be a great risk M’lady,” Captain Benton advised quietly. They were in her private rooms and the captain was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. His eyes darted about nervously before landing on the large, luxurious bed that dominated the room. He coughed once and then his eyes started their restless wanderings once more. It didn’t help matters that the queen greeted him in little more than a nightshift and a shawl, her large, milk heavy breasts straining against the thin fabric.

“Greater than leaving the decision up to Captain Hothgaard?” She asked. “He could choose either way…will probably choose Prince Nigel, after all he is a man now whatever his passions.”

Benton glanced around nervously once more, keeping his eyes anywhere but on the breasts of his young beautiful charge. He was in fact in love with Audra, and had been for several years now despite the fact that she was ten years his junior. But he knew his place and would air none of his feelings or act in any way that was inappropriate.

“Without your help I will lose everything,” Audra pleaded and walked over to her Captain. She placed a small hand on his arm and gazed up at him with helplessness, keeping close and accentuating her small size. She knew that men were still taken by her beauty despite her pregnancy, and were often moved to protect and guard her because of her delicate nature.

“But to kill the Prince and his sister, M’lady,” Benton argued, not reticent about the killing, he just wanted to avoid any danger to his young Queen. Killing royalty was always a messy business.

“I know but it can’t be helped,” Audra insisted, pouting slightly. “If we don’t act quickly, I’m sure Nigel and the Knights will move against me. If you will not help me I will have to turn to Sinis.”

Benton’s eyes went wide and Audra knew instantly she had him. She had no intention of turning to the Executioners; they were far too dangerous and unpredictable. They were just as likely to kill her as her targets, especially once they got wind of Caiman’s death.

“No M’lady, you need not go to Sinis,” Benton replied, resigned now to the course of action. “I will see to it.”

Audra beamed up at the man and then stood on the very tips of her toes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Her touch burned his skin with pleasure.

“I knew I could count on you,” Audra said happily, “but it must be quick, before word of Caiman’s death spreads.

“Yes, M’lady,” Benton agreed and at that moment he would have done anything the young girl asked. “It will be quick.”

And it was. That very night, Prince Nigel fell drunkenly to his death from his fifth floor balcony. Three days after his funeral a distraught Princess Anya was found drowned, floating face down in the harbor, her body partially eaten by the salt water fish she so loved.

XVII

Captain Gaston and Traveler na Gall pulled off the path and into the tree line so that they would be out of the way of the passing column as she worked. They were nearing the location where they would spring their ambush once the Knights engaged the Massi army on the open fields below.

But na Gall barely entered her trance when suddenly she was out again and looking at Captain Gaston with wild eyes.

“They’re here…now!” She screamed. “We must get out…go back!”

Gaston sat stunned for only the briefest moment. “Back!” He yelled. “Back now,” he repeated and horses and men around him stopped. Cries also came from the rear though at this distance they were unintelligible, but if there was shouting the reason could not be good. The men around him were slowly turning, but the road was narrow and lined thickly with trees making reversing direction a challenge for a large body of horses and men. They managed to get the majority of the horses in their immediate area turned about and heading south before more warning cries echoed through the trees, and then the Knights were storming down the hills toward them. Luckily, the same thick tree line that impeded their turning also obstructed the charge of the Temple Knights, slowing their attack and allowing the Massi cavalry to set themselves.

“On the left!” Gaston yelled and the three hundred or so men around him began to line up along the road, presenting a solid front to the approaching enemy. The Captain turned to na Gall, “ride south…now. Try to get out of the woods…if you can Travel do it!” He added and then turned away and didn’t give her another thought.

na Gall spurred her horse to a fast trot along the right side of the road but only made it a hundred yards or so before the two forces smashed into one another and all was chaos. Directly in front of her, a group of Knights crashed through the wall of Massi, their lances dripping with fresh blood and gore. She pulled to a stop as several Temple Knights turned her way, but thankfully they ignored her and charged after soldiers who were bearing weapons. As the seconds past, more and more Knights burst through the lines of the Massi and na Gall feared the worst. Even so, throughout the opening minutes of the fighting, Knights continued to pass her by, almost as if she were a projection. na Gall slowly, painfully made her way through the carnage, riding to the south, but then in a relatively quiet spot a couple of Knights turned and charged directly for her, their kali drawn. They were only twenty yards away and already moving quickly at her before she became aware of the danger. Her heart jumped in her chest, as she struggled to turn her horse off the road. Without looking back she rode out slowly into the thick woods. The hillside was steep and the trunks of the trees were so close together that she could do little more than coax her horse into a fast walk. She spurred hard and the horse bucked a little but then galloped forward a few paces just as a kali flew past. The weapon missed her head by inches and then slammed into a tree before falling to the ground.

na Gall glanced back despite her fear and saw that one of the Knights had followed her off the road and up the hill.

“Come on…come on,” she implored the horse, trying to hurry the animal by any means, but the way was steep and the forest dense. She glanced back, the Knight chasing her dropped quickly from his mount to retrieve his kali, but then his eyes were on her again. He caught her eye and smiled with anticipation. Behind and far below him, na Gall could see the battle still raging all along the road.

She turned back and concentrated on finding a way through the forest.

“I’m coming for you girlie!” The Knight yelled from below, but this time na Gall ignored him and just kept pushing her way up the hill.

“If you slow down I’ll make it quick. I might even give you something before the end,” the Knight promised, but na Gall was far from tempted.

Everything was quiet, almost peaceful in the woods except for the muffled clang of metal and shouts of the wounded and dying coming from below.

“I’m gaining girlie,” the Knight reported and indeed his voice seemed to be much closer, but still na Gall resisted the urge glance back, instead she veered left and happened across a small meadow. She immediately spurred her mount into a gallop. She crossed the clearing quickly…too quickly but once she was in the cover of the trees again she veered due south and descended into a shallow ravine. She could not hear any signs of pursuit and the Knight did not speak out. She risked a glance back but did not see him on the hill above, so when she reached the bottom she pulled the horse to a stop and began to weave her hands through the twenty-nine steps.

“Ah, there you are. I’m going to slice your teats off girlie,” the Knight yelled from above, but na Gall did not open her eyes. She was half way through the connection, trying desperately to concentrate and attempting to ignore the sound of the man’s descent. She continued to work; eyes closed until finally she projected and flew back past him, noting that he was closing on her body fast. She would have liked to Travel all the way to Lonogan and the army but knew she did not have the time, so on the far side of the hill she stopped, called on the vortex and felt her two halves pull at one another. The bridge opened in front of her and she opened her eyes just as the Knight drew his kali. She threw herself off the horse and away from the sword which scraped along her shoulder cutting away her leather jerkin and a hunk of flesh. She hit the ground, her fall cushioned by a mass of leaves, and rolled quickly to her feet as the Knight jockeyed his horse to come after her.

Without pausing she ran to the front of her horse, gripped the bridle and turned the beast to block the path of the Knight so determined to kill her. For a moment it worked and the Knight’s mount was stopped short by her horse, keeping the man well out of arm’s reach.

“Asshole!” She yelled then turned and jumped through the bridge, a kali came with her, missing again but actually flying through a bit of her hair. She landed and rolled, closing the bridge instantly. She stood on shaky legs, very thankful that the Knight’s throwing arm was less than accurate. She picked up the short sword, though what she would do with it was beyond her. Still, just holding it made her feel better. She moved through the quiet forest and though she was not very far from the road or from the Knight who’d chased her, she could only dimly hear the battle as it raged in the distance. She tucked the kali into her belt and then began the weave that would take her to the army…take her to Lonogan Bock.

ǂ

Traveler Jess na Gall appeared suddenly just to the right of Lonogan Bock and from her expression Gwaynn could tell that the battle in the hills north of Claymont was going very wrong.

“N’dori?” He asked, coaxing Eve closer to the stricken woman. “Did N’dori get word to you in time?” He asked, but he felt as if he already knew the answer and when na Gall shook her head his fears were confirmed.

“I never saw her…” na Gall stammered as Lonogan dismounted and embraced her. na Gall however, kept her eyes on Gwaynn. “The Knights came at us from all sides. I checked on their location twice after we were off the Plateau…we eliminated their scouts. It had to be just good fortune on their side,” she tried to explain, talking in a rush, and then was suddenly leaning heavily on Lonogan. He sent an aide for food.

“Do you need to sit?” Bock asked…all tenderness. na Gall would have smiled at his concern if the situation was not so desperate.

“There must have been scouts that eluded detection,” Gwaynn replied turning his eyes toward the far off hills, of course from his location he could see and hear nothing. “I projected myself and found them just before the attack. They were waiting for you.”

“Should we move the army…try to support the cavalry?” Monde asked feeling very guilty about her reluctance to project just one more time. If she had searched the far hills instead of Gwaynn she could have given a warning; she had the ability to create a Speaker bubble.

“No.” Gwaynn, Lonogan and Captain Marcum all replied at the very same time. They glanced at one another and Gwaynn could not help but feel a small amount of relief. They were all of the same mind. Gaston and the cavalry would have to look after themselves.

“We’d never make it in time,” Gwaynn said softly, understanding the look of panic in the older woman’s eyes. “It’s not your fault. We’ll wait here; the Knights will come to us…perhaps even more overconfident.”

An aide appeared, bringing seasoned meat, hard cheese and a bag of dried apples, Monde pulled herself from the saddle of her small gray horse and went to na Gall. She checked her wounded arm. Though it looked bad and there was a lot of blood on her clothes, the wound was superficial and was no longer bleeding. na Gall grimaced, feeling pain for the first time but said nothing. Both Travelers began to eat, wanting to gain as much strength as possible. After fifteen long minutes of continuous consumption, Monde finally decided she was strong enough.

“I will go,” she spoke moving to Gwaynn’s side and looking up at the still mounted young King. “I will see how they fared.”

Gwaynn nodded and smiled once more. He was hoping one of the Travelers would volunteer, or that N’dori would return with news. N’dori however, did not reappear. Gwaynn climbed from his horse and stood close to the High Zarina. He could feel her weakness but also her determination. But his need for news far outweighed his concern that she would be unable to protect herself once the main battle began. With luck the Knights would not come down and face them until the following morning, giving both Travelers a night to recoup. Gwaynn hoped so, he had the distinct feeling they would need them before end.

Within a minute Monde projected from her body and was streaking across the plains to the hills beyond. As spirit, she did not need to breathe but like nearly all Travelers her projection still went through the motions of drawing air into her lungs and expelling it out once more. She did this not from need, rather from sheer instinct and habit, but as she neared the battlefield she was unaware that she was holding her breath. Monde moved quickly, forcing herself along, very afraid of what she would find. Most of the fighting was now over although there were still small pockets of activity. The dead were everywhere, strewn about all over the road and scattered throughout the trees. The battle was decisive. Except for the rapidly shrinking knots of Massi cavalry still fighting, the only people she saw alive in the area were Temple Knights. It was as she feared; it was worse than she feared. She performed a quick search of the area, looking for Captain Gaston and the Solitary N’dori. Her search was unsuccessful, but there were many corpses lying face down, several with head wounds so severe that it made identification impossible and there were a few bodies that were missing heads altogether.

Nevertheless she searched as long as she was able then she rose straight up into the sky and surveyed a larger area. She immediately spotted a group of cavalry gathering near the edge of a wood line southeast of the battle. She moved in the direction and was gratified to see that the men were Massi. She moved among them, trying to count or at least get a rough estimate of their numbers. She spotted Captain Kerr among the living, but still could not locate Gaston. She rose straight up again and made another quick inspection of the area, hoping to spot additional stragglers but was unsuccessful. The need to return to her body was by now growing unbearable, so she dashed back before her strength completely left her.

She collapsed as she reunited with her body and was surprised by the sheer exhaustion which engulfed her. Gwaynn and na Gall helped her down so she could sit in the tall grass of the field. They looked at her expectantly as she tried to catch her breath, because naturally her body was holding it in as well. na Gall held out a few dried apples and Monde took them, but before she placed them in her mouth she looked at Gwaynn.

“It’s bad,” she reported barely above a whisper. “But some have escaped to the south.”

“How many?”

“It’s hard to say, they were all moving, but I would guess about five hundred…Captain Kerr is with them.”

‘Five hundred!’ Gwaynn thought the news hitting him like a body blow. Five hundred left out of nearly five thousand. The battle was a disaster and for a brief moment he seriously considered moving the army back behind the walls of Manse and relative safety. But he quickly dismissed such conservative thinking. The Knights would have to be defeated…and now was the time to do so. He could not win Massi back by cowering behind the walls of a city.

“Five hundred!” Bock also said…stunned. “M’lord we should…”

“No…don’t say it,” Gwaynn ordered, standing up and facing his friend and General. “We have a good plan…we will fight them here.”

Bock looked torn and was about to speak but then thought better of it and closed his mouth, then changed his mind once more.

“Let them come,” he muttered and drew his kali, craving battle like never before.

ǂ

Tarina N’dori appeared out of thin air directly to the right of Captain Kerr in the very midst of the heavy fighting near the rear of the column. She killed two Knights before anyone even knew she’d arrived and was spinning and slashing with a skill Kerr would not have believed possible if he was not near enough to witness the feat. With a sudden jerk, Kerr turned a lance meant for his chest and slashed threw the neck of the attacking Knight, dimly aware that N’dori had killed another two in the same amount of time.

“Gather your men and flee south!” She shouted to him while her immediate surroundings were clear of any new targets. “The north road is packed with Knights. I will hold them off for as long as possible to allow you to make some distance.”

Kerr nodded and spun Karly, his mount, just in time to counter a blow from another Knight. He pulled Karly farther around in order to defend himself, but N’dori sprinted behind the Knight and with a graceful leap landed on the back of his horse. The man’s head was removed just as gracefully and N’dori unceremoniously dumped the body from the saddle then hopped her butt into the soft leather support and slipped her feet into the stirrups.

“Hurry now!” She said and spurred the horse into the thickest part of the battle. Kerr took a moment to watch her ride, admiring the way the Tarina sat her horse…very natural and very balanced, a natural rider, and despite her age, there was something in the way she moved and killed that the Captain found strangely erotic. With difficulty he shook away such thoughts and set about saving what men he could from the butchery. He fought and shouted orders to sergeants and common soldiers alike for what seemed like hours, sending them down the road to the south and away from the battle. Some left in groups as large as fifty, while others straggled off in twos and threes. He kept at the task until a large contingent of Knights came charging out of the woods to the west and he was forced to flee with a group of no more than a dozen. They thundered down the road heading south just before the enemy broke clear of the forest. Kerr and his men did not pause but continued to gallop away from the battle. He glanced back once and happily saw that the Knights were not pursuing so he pulled to a stop and turned about, searching for N’dori. The Tarina was not in sight, only a mass of enemy horseman. The sounds of battle still filled the forest road and Kerr was tempted for a moment to charge back into the fray and attempt to rescue N’dori as she had rescued him.

“Captain,” a young soldier said trotting up to his side. The young man’s horse snorted, shaking it’s head, revealing its own eagerness to rejoin the battle, but the young man held the reins tightly keeping the animal in check. “Captain we must go,” he repeated and Kerr looked over at him as if coming out of a dream.

Kerr stared at the youth, who had a deep gash just above his right temple. The wound bled copiously, but the young man appeared not to notice. Kerr frowned, trying to remember the soldier’s name. It would not come.

“Sir,” the soldier said. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Kerr said spinning his mount around once more. “Let’s move,” he added and risked one final glimpse back in search of the Solitary, but he saw only the backs of the enemy.

But N’dori was there, still mounted and fighting like a tigress. She was surrounded by enemy Knights, most whom were armed with lances which posed serious problems for the Tarina. But as long as the weapons were aimed at her she was able to spin and deflect them. She knocked aside lance after lance, guiding her horse with skill and daring. He was an excellent fighting animal and darted this way and that, guided only from the pressure she gave through her thighs. They moved in concert, the horse shifting and charging as she attempted to close with her enemy and kill with her kali.

She managed to confuse and kill a half dozen Knights before one Knight decided to go for her mount. He struck the animal in the chest driving the tip of his lance deep into the animal’s left lung. The injured horse screamed in pain throwing blood over those nearest, and immediately faltered and fell to the ground. N’dori cursed but deftly leaped from the saddle and rolled under a well aimed lance. It missed by inches and the Tarina gutted the horse carrying the attacker. It too began to scream and as the horse went down the Solitary broke into a run, deftly dodging another pointed lance. Again she streaked by an attacker, this time cutting the arm from a Knight and the man’s screams joined in with those of the two wounded animals.

Talented and deadly as she was, N’dori was now surrounded by nearly fifty mounted soldiers all well trained and all determined to kill her. She held them off; killing several more before finally they broke through her defenses. A lance slipped past her kali and caught her in the right shoulder. The point went deep, but glanced off of her shoulder socket then slipped out of her body leaving a deep bloody cut just below her armpit. But instead of breaking free, the point of the lance caught in her leather jerkin and she was lifted off her feet and carried back until steel tip buried itself in trunk of a large tree. N’dori tried to shift her position but found herself held securely in place. Without thinking she turned another lance, but saw that there were four more close behind and she could not hope to keep deflecting all the blows sent at her.

‘It’s Time,’ she thought and instantaneously dropped into a deep state of consciousness. Unconsciously her body struck aside another weapon aimed directly at her heart, but already the movements around her were beginning to slow. She moved another lance point away with her forearm as the world slowed and slowed, until finally there was no movement or sound.

‘Bless you Nev,’ she thought and tried to pull the lance from the tree. Her wounded shoulder hampered her and despite her best efforts the weapon would not budge.

In the end she was forced to pull herself from her jerkin, wincing at the pain her injury caused her, but relieved when she was finally free of the trap. She stood panting for a moment then looked to her shoulder. She was now wearing only a thin cotton undershirt which was drenched in blood. She pulled off the garment unmindful that she was now naked from the waist up and wrapped her undershirt tightly around the deep cut just below her shoulder. It was very cold but she was not aware of it. She moved swiftly and sliced through the necks of nearly two dozen Knights before she became momentarily disoriented. She fought the dizziness, yanked a Knight from his mount and gingerly pulled herself up onto the horse and projected. She searched for Captain Kerr, who’d fled to the south. She found him quickly, already two miles away, leading a large group of horseman from the vicinity of the battle. She smiled, wavered again from dizziness then rapidly opened a bridge. The vortex was powerfully made and the bridge sprang to life large and stable. N’dori then released time; all around her slain Knights toppled from their mounts. The Solitary paid them no mind, instead she spun her horse and spurred it through the bridge. She was vaguely aware of shouts of shock coming from the fight as she left the area, but they were quickly silenced as the bridge snapped shut.

She and her horse appeared in the midst of the galloping Massi horseman directly beside Captain Kerr and again her ears were assailed by shouts of surprise. Her sudden appearance caused several horses to veer sharply away, but no one toppled. Kerr stared at her with a stunned expression, his wide eyes going from her face to her bare bouncing breasts. N’dori laughed at the look he was giving her, then slumped in the saddle and would have fallen had not the Captain reached over to catch her. He continued to hold her up as he reined his horse back, thankfully N’dori’s mount followed suit, thoroughly confused. When they finally came to a halt the Tarina sagged farther.

“I…I need food…water…and rest,” she said just above a whisper.

“Of course,” Kerr answered, hardly able to come to grips with her presence. He pulled a wad of jerked beef from his saddle and gave it to her. She snatched it greedily away and stuffed it in her mouth like someone starving. After a moment he handed her his water skin. She drank deeply before taking more jerked beef.

“You escaped,” Kerr said with awe.

N’dori nodded.

“But how…you were surrounded by hundreds of Knights?”

N’dori smiled, suddenly very sleepy. Her eyes closed briefly then she forced them open. “I killed…many.”

“Many?”

“Thirty, forty…maybe more,” she answered and her head dropped down again. “I will not be able to ride alone.”

Kerr nodded and then with apparent ease he reached over and pulled her from her horse. She was surprised by his strength and he was surprised at just how small she was for being so deadly. He maneuvered her into a sitting position in front of him and slipped one arm around her, holding her in place.

“Sleep,” the Captain said as he signaled his men to ride again. They moved down the road at a much slower pace now. N’dori was thankful for the support and for the man’s warmth against her back and she was only vaguely aware that the young Captain was cupping her right breast with his supporting hand before she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

ǂ

Captain Gaston finally pulled his mount to a stop near the top of a rise almost three miles to the northeast of the battle. The Knights were no longer pursuing the cluster of Massi cavalry in his immediate area and the sound of the distant battle was lost in the trees.

Gaston glanced around at those near him, feeling disheartened and beaten. The Knights somehow managed to surprise him once more and this time with disastrous results. The cavalry was gone…destroyed. He performed a quick count and could see maybe two hundred men and horses on the ridge around him, though he could hear others apparently climbing to the south. He hoped they were friendly but to be sure he quickly sent out a rider to check on them. He would be a fool to be caught off guard again.

“Do you think any others escaped?” The young Sergeant Hawser asked and waited patiently as the Captain continued to scan the area without bothering to answer. Finally, Gaston glanced at Olney, who’d grown very large but still owned a baby face with skin that looked as soft as any girl’s.

Gaston shrugged. “There’s no way of knowing, but if any were so fortunate they would head back to the southeast and try to regroup…the northwest is unknown.” The Captain raised his hand as another group of perhaps fifty Massi came into view climbing the north slope of the hillside.

“You did well today Sergeant,” Gaston added, knowing that he would in all likelihood be dead if it wasn’t for the young man. In the midst of the chaos, Olney shot two Knights with his bow…one took an arrow in the mid-section and he hit the other through the neck just below the jaw; both Knights were attempting to skewer Gaston while he was fighting off a third. Olney had organized a group of perhaps seventy-five men just up the hill and off the road and they used their bows to cover the retreat of many others. If the Sergeant and his group had just fled, hundreds more Massi would have been killed.

Olney just nodded, taking the compliment in stride. Gaston was immediately struck by how much the young man had grown in the past few years, and though he was still young, Olney was now a man in every respect.

“Your father would be proud,” the Captain added, but again Olney remained quiet. “Now go and scout our way out of this place. We need to find a safe way back and around to Claymont…with whomever we have left.” Gaston’s heart fell as he said the words and he did not look forward to reporting back to General Bock. But Lonogan had to be warned and soon. The plan was to bring the army out of Manse and lure the Temple Knights into a pitched battle, once engaged the Massi cavalry would swoop down, trapping and surprising the enemy. Gaston was now sure that any such attempt would be folly. The Knights were too good and deserved their reputation completely. They were a fearsome opponent who would without a doubt destroy any army of infantry they faced. The Massi had lost and it would be best to hold up behind the walls of Manse and try to wait out the Knights, any other action was now unthinkable.

Gaston watched as Hawser rode away, angling to the southwest. Ten minutes later a scout returned leading approximately one hundred and fifty men, some riding double, but Gaston was somewhat relieved that so many seemed to have survived the attack…perhaps others had as well.

The men around him looked shaken but no one showed any sign of panic, a few asked for directions and he sent another small squad of men back toward the battle to check on the movements of the Knights. He would be very cautious. How the Knights found and surprised them was still unknown and the possibility that they had their own captured Traveler flitted about in the back of his mind.

He set up a wide perimeter and assigned men to guard the easy approaches to the ridge line. They did so without any sign of a lack of confidence with his leadership, a fact that left him slightly gratified.

An hour later Sergeant Olney Hawser returned with the Speaker Sarbeth and another fifty-seven Massi horseman in tow.

“There’s a trail to the west that leads down out of the hills and into flat farmland,” Olney reported. “It will be easy to circle back around south to the road from there. Once we’re out of the trees visibility is good. The Knights will not be able to surprise us again.”

Gaston nodded and gave orders for the group to beginning preparations to move out. He wanted to be out of the hills and in the lowlands before dark.

“Any sign of na Gall?” He asked Sarbeth, who was dirty and ragged from the ordeal. She shook her head. “I’ve not seen or heard from her or Monde since the…the battle,” she stammered, clearly confused. “They should not have been able to surprise us like that…they may have a Traveler of their own.”

Gaston smiled. “My worries exactly…but nothing we should dwell on, after all we had a Traveler and look what good it did us.”

“Should I try to contact General Bock?” The young Speaker asked, but Gaston shook his head.

“When we are out of the hills,” he answered and noticed that the Speaker edged her horse closer to the Hawser boy. Olney seemed not to notice.

The column got under way within ten minutes but had not gone far before three men rode quickly up from the rear. Captain Gaston turned and pulled out of formation, nodding for Sergeant Hawser and Sarbeth to do likewise. The approaching men were part of the scouting party he had dispatched to eye the Temple Knights and Gaston was hungry for news.

“The Knights have moved off,” said the first scout to reach Gaston. He was covered in scratches and slick with sweat from his hard ride through the thickly forested hills.

“What direction?” Olney asked before Gaston had the chance.

“Back off to the southwest toward Claymont,” the scout answered, pulling his canteen from his saddlebags and taking a quick drink.

“Toff and Scraylan moved off to track them,” another scout informed Gaston.

“Any survivors?” Sarbeth asked in a quiet voice and at first neither man answered. Instead they glared at her as if the entire episode was her fault and then one of them shook his head.

“They’re all dead…hundreds of them,” the man said solemnly, but then smiled. “But we saw just as many dead Knights. They surprised us…but paid a high price for their victory.”

Gaston frowned, watching as the column of men he was leading slowly rode past.  “Are you sure?” He asked, thinking that the man must be mistaken, probably deluded, his mind attempting to cast the best light on a very bad situation, but then one of the others spoke up.

“There were many Knights down…maybe not so many as Massi…but many,” the man added. He was older, bearded and had a steady look in his eyes that revealed little pleasure in the facts he was reporting.

Olney smiled, but Gaston only nodded.

“Let’s get out of these damned woods,” he finally said and they joined in with the line of horses heading to the east.

ǂ

Captain Hothgaard did not have a clear picture of the outcome of the battle against the Massi cavalry until they moved out of the hills early in the afternoon. They were positioned just to the north of the town of Claymont.

“Two thousand!” He yelled, though he was attempting to keep his voice down. “We lost two thousand men during a surprise attack against an enemy half our size,” he continued, not truly wanting an answer.

“Yes, but we killed far more. They are no longer strong enough to be of any concern. We would have utterly destroyed them if a Tarina had not appeared in their rear,” Captain Tramm said trying to explain.  “Travelers were involved. The Tarina appeared out of nowhere and held the road while the Massi cowards escaped to the south.”

Hothgaard remained silent, thinking. ‘We should leave this land…the locals want it too badly. There were not enough Knights to hold it and Prince Gwaynn was learning the ways of war quickly. If the High King continued to push the issue he might just create an enemy of extreme power, someone to tear apart the very fabric of their society.’

“Any word from Speaker Nadler?” Hothgaard asked, not wanting to think about the possibility that a Tarina of Noble Island truly joined the fight against them. He turned to look at his second in command, who had yet to answer.

Tramm blanched. He was hoping to avoid the subject of Speakers all together, but now that it was out in the open he trudged ahead. “We received word that the Massi infantry was moving out of Manse and toward Claymont, but since then nothing,” he replied. “And we lost Speaker Worlund; a group of Massi fled his way. He took an arrow in the back.”

Hothgaard cursed. “Send out riders to the north and west. We need to find Nadler. I want to speak to the High King.”

“And what of the Massi army?”

“Infantry?” Hothgaard asked with disdain. He now had great respect for Massi cavalry, but no army composed of just infantry could stand against the Knights in a full blown charge. No, as long as the Massi cavalry was contained their army posed no real threat. Infantry could not move as quickly, as hard, or as long. Against cavalry they were all but helpless. They could not engage enemy cavalry at will nor could they disengage from a fight with cavalry, therefore they could not control the battlefield. In war, infantry alone was as vulnerable as a new born babe.

“They’re infantry does not concern me. If we can manage to eliminate the Massi cavalry then the infantry will be at our mercy; we can destroy them at will.”

Tramm frowned. “Yes, but only if they leave the safety of their walls…which they foolishly have. If Prince Gwaynn is with them; if he is captured or killed, then I think the Massi threat will quickly evaporate.”

Captain Hothgaard looked at his fellow commander as if he’d just been slapped across the face. His expression would have been comical had not the situation been so critical.

‘Of course! I’m a fool!’ Hothgaard thought, driving a fist into the top of his thigh. He’d been so focused on wiping out the enemy army he’d completely neglected to recognize the fact that everything hinged on the presence of their leader…the last of the Massi. Kill the young Prince and surely the heart would go out of the enemy.

“Perhaps you should now be leading the Knights,” Hothgaard admitted with a sour grin, as only one confident in their own abilities could.

Tramm smiled. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “Shall I send out men to scout the Massi army?”

Hothgaard nodded. “Yes and send a detachment of a five hundred men back to the top of that high ridge,” he said pointing out the area he wanted covered. “I don’t want what’s left of the Massi cavalry surprising us from the rear.”

“And if we catch the Massi infantry in the open?” Tramm asked.

“Then we attack at once…before the sun sets,” Hothgaard replied, hoping they could be so lucky.

XVIII

“My apologies M’lady, I cannot reach Captain Hothgaard,” Speaker Gan said trying to avert his eyes as the young queen pulled Prince Aiden to her breast. The boy was now old enough so that he reached out and gripped her soft flesh in his hands and thrust his eager mouth forward to cover the dark tipped, hardened nipple. Gan found himself a bit envious of the young Prince, who was now suckling with obvious pleasure. He glanced up and found the Queen’s eyes on his and he blushed despite his age.

“I can locate Speaker Nadler,” Gan blurted quickly to cover his embarrassment, “but for some reason he refuses to answer…nothing of Speaker Worlund, he is no longer near Manse,”

The beautiful and diminutive queen showed no sign of irritation from the Speaker’s lustful attentions. On the contrary she seemed somewhat pleased by his apparent desire, though her small smile quickly turned to a pout as she listened.

“But I need to speak with Captain Hothgaard,” the Queen repeated, as if her very desires could control reality. With each passing day it grew more certain that Caiman was truly dead. And with the passing of Prince Nigel and his sister, it was clear that Aiden was now heir to the throne, but Audra needed to be sure where the High Captain’s loyalties resided.

“I’m afraid that is not possible at the moment, but I will continue my attempts to contact Nadler or Worlund,” he said, carefully keeping his eyes from the queen’s bust.

“Then get me Tar Nacht,” she finally said and Gan went pale.

“M’lady, you must not trust Sinis,” Gan answered, abruptly.

Queen Audra glared at him. “You forget yourself Speaker,” she said with a calm, cool voice, but there was no mistaking the danger in her words or manner.

Gan bowed. “M’lady…I only thought to warn you of the assassins. They attacked and killed many of my colleagues…”

“On the King’s orders,” she interrupted. “Noble is against me…I have no choice but to continue to align the King’s Island with the High Tar of Sinis. He is not a threat; he would not dare risk the wrath of the Temple Knights.”

Gan nodded and wondered silently if what she believed was in fact, the truth. Sinis was growing bold, as anyone could see, but he yielded to her will and began to move through the motions of Speaking.

“Then I will have Sinis momentarily,” Gan said somewhat reluctantly. “But if I could hazard one more piece of advice…” he added and received a blistering look for his trouble, but he was committed now so continued.  “Be wary of mentioning the fact that the King is missing, with the bulk of the Temple Knights in Massi, Nacht may be tempted to move against you.”

Audra frowned. “And if he did, what would happen to him and Sinis when the Knights returned.”

“Just be wary,” Gan pleaded. “There is no guarantee the Knights will return fast enough to save any of us.”

The Queen considered this, decided the advice was prudent and nodded. She watched as the Speaker worked and minutes later he was talking to a Speaker on Sinis who quickly summoned the High Tar.

“M’lady,” Nacht said softly facing the bubble of haze that hung in the center of the room.

‘The rumors must be true then, the High King is dead.’ The High Tar’s stomach did a quick lurch at the possibility. The entire kingdom was now ripe for the taking. “How can I assist you?”

“The Cassinni have betrayed us,” Audra said, the High Tar’s helpful demeanor making her feel more confident. “They’ll have to pay.”

Nacht smiled. The rumors were indeed true.

“It can be arranged,” he answered quickly though he wondered just who he would send. They’d already lost Lacombe and he had Giodart, Rhinehold, Badawi, Sened and de Croix in Massi with King Weldon Palmerrio, and now that de Baard was with the enemy, his list of Tars was growing thin. Of course there were still over two dozen available Executioners, though many were otherwise occupied. He currently had three in the conquered lands of the Toranado, two in Palmerrio, one with King Donnis Rhondono and two in Deutzani, plus another half dozen securing Sinis’ hold on the Isle of Light.

The Cassinni would not allow Executioners on their lands, but there were always ways to get around such obstacles.

“Please arrange it...Caiman will be ever so appreciative,” the Queen answered and Speaker Gan could not help but smile.

Nacht frowned. Could the rumors be incorrect? It was possible. He would have to be patient. If the High King was indeed dead then there was no hurry and it would do little good to take the King’s Island with Temple Knights still intact and loyal to the royal family…if the Massi could weaken the Knights enough…and if Noble continued its neutrality…then, well then, anything was possible.

“And who is your mark?” Nacht asked with the same anticipation he always felt before he was to call the Black Horseman down on some unsuspecting fool.

“Why the King…King Marc Cassinni,” Audra answered and fancied that she heard the High Tar let out a small gasp of surprise.

“King…King Marc?” Nacht asked, elated. If the royal family was implicated in the death of another royal…the Inland Sea would indeed fall into chaos…and Sinis would rise to the top.

“Yes.”

“As you wish M’lady,” though he had no intention of sending an assassin until the rumors could be confirmed one way or another. If Mastoc was indeed dead, the land would fall into chaos without the death of King Marc…if Mastoc was dead, Nacht would move on the King’s Island. No, he would not kill the young queen and her pups…but he would control her…and as Weapons Master to the Queen, he would control the Inland Sea.

Once the connection was broken Queen Audra smiled at Gan, pulled the now sleeping Aiden from her breast and gently placed him in his bassinet. She turned back to the Speaker and slowly pulled the top of her gown over her breasts.

“Please contact the Cassinni,” she said with a demure smile. “We must warn them of an imminent assassination plot against their King.

Gan’s eyes flew open in admiration.

“The Cassinni have long been loyal…we must win back such loyalty. We need their navy to sail home so the Rhondono can return and aid the Knights,” she explained. “This war must end quickly,” she added and half turned to stroke the hair of her sleeping prince. “We are vulnerable while it drags on.”

“Yes M’lady,” Gan said, truly impressed and couldn’t help but think that perhaps the Inland Sea would be in better hands if the young Queen were to rule.

ǂ

“The Knights are coming!” Laynee said, raising her voice in excitement. “They are forming a line out on the flats just west of the town,” she explained further, her voice mumbled. It was hard for her to make her body talk while she was projecting. Her body was sitting on the edge of the bed in Samantha’s room in the eastern bailey, but her spirit was soaring over the battlefield. Samantha was sitting right next to the young Traveler, just as close as she could get, while Daniel stood anxiously on the far side of the room. There was only one small, heavily shuttered window in the room along the south wall. At the moment the shutters were thrown open for light. But there was also a large fire burning in the fireplace for warmth. Daniel stood close to the hearth but occasionally could feel a cold breeze that carried the promise of winter, which was quickly approaching.

“And Gwaynn?” Samantha asked feeling a drop of sweat trickling down the left side of her body beneath her loose gown. She was growing heavy and the heat of the fire made the room stifling to her, though both youngsters were quite chilly. Moments before she was going to suggest they go to the large hall where it was cooler but after Laynee’s revelation she didn’t want to move.

“He’s…he’s talking to the lady from Noble…Vio,” Laynee said, though in fact Gwaynn was just breaking away after giving Vio a brief hug. Laynee, though young, was shrewd enough not to mention the fact.

“Is he in the front?” Samantha asked, positive he was. Laynee’s answer was interrupted as Traveler Jess na Gall burst past Cobb, who stood outside the room guarding the door. He was not alone; he now had the company of four other personal guardsmen Gwaynn assigned for Samantha’s protection. He did not want another Executioner surprising them.

“Has the battle begun?” na Gall asked, having come to the rear to have her wound cleaned and bandaged. She came to Manse on Lonogan’s insistence, since the Travelers would not play a major part in the battle to come. na Gall did so reluctantly and as she entered the room she instantly realized that Laynee was in the act of projecting and reporting on the action to Samantha.

“Not yet Mum,” Daniel said with a slight bow.

“The Knights are coming!” Laynee repeated her eyes wide. “They were confused at first but they were coming now…in a long straight line…charging fast.”

“Gwaynn,” Samantha pleaded.

“He’s in a middle diamond…not near the front,” Laynee reassured her and this time it was the truth.

“And Lonogan?” na Gall asked and then shot Samantha a shy smile and moved to the far side of Laynee and sat on the bed. Samantha reached out across the young Traveler’s lap with her lone hand and took hold of Jess’ left.

Laynee paused for a moment, searching. “He’s in the rear, on a small hill behind the army,” Laynee answered, her voice barely intelligible and her hands were beginning to shake. Daniel knew she was tiring and began going through the twenty-nine steps. It was his turn to watch out over the coming battle.

Laynee went very still and then mumbled. “Lonogan’s safe, surrounded by maybe fifty horsemen.”

Laynee grew very quiet then, and suddenly she was back, panting and sweating in the small room. She almost immediately began to shove bits of meat and bread into her mouth and Samatha’s attention shifted to Daniel, straining to see what the young Traveler was seeing, but no matter how Samantha tried, she only saw the interior of her bedroom.

“…they’re coming,” he finally said, his voice a bit slurred. “There are arrows in the sky.”

ǂ

Gwaynn stood almost directly behind Vio. He could see perfectly well now that he was nearly a full head taller than his deadly little friend. At first the Knights seemed to be confused by the unique Massi formation, but now they were lining up and preparing to charge across the open field and do battle.

Gwaynn could understand their confusion; the Massi infantry were not aligned in the normal manner. There was no shield wall, strong and solid, to repel a charge of heavy horse. Instead of forming a continuous line, the Massi army was arranged in a series of smaller formations all in a crude diamond shape. Each formation contained around one hundred and fifty men. But what was truly curious was that the formations were spread out with wide swaths of open country between each. This was unheard of and left the Knights puzzled for several long moments. And though Gwaynn had perfect confidence in his General, he had to admit to feeling slightly exposed and vulnerable. The diamond formations had approximately twenty-five to thirty feet of open space between them, and now in the heat of battle it seemed a large distance to place between friends and reinforcements.

But the arrangement was not by accident, the formations were separated in order to split the enemy lines as they charged among them. The diamond shapes were set up into four long rows each offset slightly from the other two. It was hoped that any charge of heavy horse would be quickly split many times over until a strong unified attack became impossible. In all, the Massi army covered well over a half a mile from end to end. Inside each diamond formation there were around fifty archers located within a large open center. The area inside was big enough for the archers to spread out a bit so they could draw and fire without impeding one another. Gwaynn checked on the archers in his own formation and saw that they all had multiple arrows sticking out of the ground in front of them to allow for easy retrieval and very quick, repeated fire. Because of the unique nature of the formations, the archers would have to be very disciplined and fire only at the Knights who were actually threatening their formation. Every arrow had to have a clear target; they had to minimize every miss, for errant arrow fire would be just as dangerous for the other formations as it would be for the Knights. Over the weeks and months prior, Captain Hahn and Samantha had drilled into the archers the need for patience and accuracy.

Surrounding the archers was a layer of heavy infantry and on the extreme outer edges were the halberdiers, strong men and women with long spears. The spears were unique, for they not only had a cross piece about three quarters of the way down from the tip which was designed to allow for a firmly controlled grip while wielding the weapon, but they also had three hooks symmetrically placed around the shaft connected directly to the spear point. The razor sharp tips of the spears were designed not only to skewer any Knights within reach but also to discourage the horses from charging into the formation. The hooks were added to snag any Knights galloping by. With the help of the crosspiece, the hooks would allow the halberdiers to catch and pull the enemy from the saddle. The design was as yet untested in battle but in mock training sessions the halberds appeared to work exceedingly well.

If the Knights somehow made it through the gauntlet of diamond formations, then they would meet the Toranado heavy infantry, which would be spread out into a standard shield wall directly behind the Massi army. Their task was to halt the progress of the enemy Knights. If everything went to plan the Toranado’s job would be relatively easy against a broken and haphazard cavalry charge. For the first time in the war however, the real pressure would be on the Massi infantry, particularly on those residing in the very tip of the lead diamond formations. They occupied the very pressure points that, if successful, would split the oncoming charge and reduce the enemy army from a strongly formed line of attack into a myriad of individual groups able to be surrounded and cut down. The Massi army though all infantry, outnumber the mounted Temple Knights by more than two to one. If the charge could be split and stopped, and the enemy’s momentum broken; if their avenues of escape could be closed, well then it might be possible to defeat the vaunted cavalry army that was preparing to gallop down upon them. There were a lot of “ifs.” Of course armies throughout history employed countless strategies against an enemy of heavy horse and most of them failed…and against the Knights of the King’s Island all of them failed.

“Hold fast men!” Gwaynn called out startling Vio, who stood before him. She jumped and laughed nervously causing Gwaynn to smile. His eyes moved from the rush of Knights racing across the open field, down to the back of her head. Her hair, silky black, was still cropped short, but shone as if it contained some hidden light source of its own. By some trick of the sun, Gwaynn noticed that around the highlighted areas, her hair took on a bluish cast. He had the sudden urge to bend over and take in the smell of it. With difficulty he resisted then heard calls for courage coming from all sides. He looked up again to see that the Knights were nearly half way across the open field and moving in perfect formation. He marveled at the beauty of the charge, the precision, and for a moment felt saddened by the need to destroy such perfection.

“Time for some arse kickin’” someone from the back of their diamond formation said and laughter rippled through the clearly nervous men. Gwaynn recognized the voice as Captain Marcum’s and realized that the remark was well timed to give the men courage. He marveled at the amount of knowledge his Captains and Generals possessed and knew with utter conviction that he would not have come this far without them. He just hoped their knowledge would give them one last victory.

“Fire!” Gwaynn heard and was pulled from his thoughts as the first arrows were launched from inside his formation. The main line of the Knights neared the front line of the diamond groupings. Gwaynn held his breath as they approached.  Now was the moment, if the front diamond sections collapsed, then their entire plan would end in disaster and the Massi infantry would be crushed, ground beneath the hooves of the Temple Knights.

Arrow after arrow arched out into the air, some Gwaynn lost in the white clouds which dotted the otherwise crystal blue afternoon sky. He glanced to his left and saw the Lady Bethany firing with an easy rapid motion. Her eyes seemed unfocused as she worked, almost as if she were in some sort of trance. Gwaynn looked up to follow the course of her arrows, but as they fell among the enemy he realized the front lines of the Knights were just reaching the forward positions of the Massi infantry. All arrow fire from his position came to an abrupt halt and at first he could not see what was happening, the dust and overall confusion made the battlefield chaotic, but after a long moment Gwaynn saw that indeed the diamond formations of the Massi were holding. The enemy horses were shying away from the bristling spear tips and the Knights were streaking in among the infantry lines.

A great cheer erupted from the men around him and Gwaynn could tell that elation was rippling up and down his army. It was a joyous sound which seemed an odd thing to hear in the opening moments of battle, but he had little time to dwell on the fact before the first of the Knights reached his position. Gwaynn could feel Vio tense before him, but as was the case with the forward positions, the enormous war horses of the Knights veered away from the sharp points of the halberds and instead moved through the gaps between the Massi formations. Knights were streaking by on either side, fighting hard to engage but their mounts refused to cooperate. Gwaynn grinned. Olney Hawser was correct, given a choice; a warhorse would choose a free lane rather than charge into a prickly mass of men. Horses were intelligent animals and were not inclined to rush into certain death when it was easily avoided. Suicide was not a common trait among the animal kingdom, only man, with his capacity for reason could see the benefits in immediate and unending oblivion.

Horses were now flying past on either side of their formation and the halberdiers began to reach out with their weapons, both stabbing and grabbing. First one Knight, then another dropped to the ground and soon Knights were being wrenched from their saddles at an alarming rate. Gwaynn, Vio, Bethany and Marcum along with the other swordsmen, all worked their way through the gaps between spearmen and killed many of the stunned Knights with ease. Over and over Gwaynn moved in and out of the formation to kill those who’d fallen. He killed some who were injured by the fall, some who were dazed and one or two who were unconscious. How long he moved in and out of the line of spearmen to dispatch those unhorsed Gwaynn could not have said, but when he grew tired he realized he must have been at it for a very long time. But even with the vast number of easy kills there were a fair number of Knights who scrambled to their feet and evaded the deadly swordsmen. Unhorsed and on foot they soon began to group together for mutual defense. The Massi swordsmen ignored them and would not be coaxed far from their defensive formations. After quickly killing those they could the Massi soldiers would immediately melt back behind the protective lines of the halberdiers. The Knights on foot were surrounded by enemy formations but they were at a loss as to what to do, so they did nothing. They just continued to merge together into groups and waited for some command to come from their Captains who were still mounted and circling among the enemy formations. But the Knights on horseback ignored their grounded comrades just as thoroughly as their Massi counterparts. In fact, the Knights still on horseback pushed through and circled around the infantry formations, confident of victory. Even now their goal was to encircle the Massi infantry and destroy them, but with each pass more and more Knights were yanked from their saddles. Once again some were quickly killed, while others survived to join their brothers on foot.

All through the battle the isolated groups of Knights on foot continued to be ignored by the Massi, who held to their formations with a tenacity that was unyielding. Their concentration rested completely on the enemy still mounted. The Knights on horseback seemed unaware of the Massi tactics, and continued to race through the Massi lines completely sure that victory was imminent. The mounted Knights fought as they always did, trying to surround the enemy and cut them up piece meal…like so much fodder. To the enemy, the Massi’s odd formation only seemed designed to hasten their inevitable destruction. It was only when the Knights reached the linear Toranado that they faced an enemy they could understand, an enemy which was facing them in a strong unified line. Here was a trained army ready to meet them, not the folly of the split formations they had so easily penetrated. The forward Knights yelled in their excitement and charged the Toranado, not realizing their strength was sorely diminished and that they would hit the heavy infantry not as a unified line, but in the sporadic way common among less disciplined cavalries.

Here and there they crashed against the Toranado lines and though most of the collisions were massive, the experienced and tough heavy infantry lines held against the disorganized strike of the cavalry charge.

Captain Hothgaard, who was near the forefront of the charge, quickly saw that it was doomed to fail. Unbelievably his lines had not held and he instantly grasped the genius of the Massi defense. By allowing for space, his cavalry raced through the paths of least resistance, and in doing so were repeatedly broken into smaller and smaller segments. The farther they moved through the Massi lines the weaker and smaller his own lines became, until they reached the end game and the Toranado heavy infantry.

“Retreat!” Hothgaard yelled. “Retreat!” He cried, acutely aware of the panic that sounded in his voice. The Knights around him stared in his direction, shocked and clearly confused.

“It’s a trap!” He screamed and spun his mount around. To his dismay he found their lines of retreat already being cut off by the now spreading formations of Massi infantry, some of who were now slaughtering the Knights a foot and others who were screaming with bloodlust and racing in his direction. The screams of the Massi infantry sent chills up his spine; they were the screams of vengeance, the screams of imminent victory. Hothgaard looked to the north and south but those avenues were also quickly being sealed.

‘It is not possible,’ he thought, dazed. ‘Defeat! And by a band of infantry…it’s not possible.’

“Form a line on me!” Hothgaard yelled dismissing such pessimistic thoughts. But he knew now that their only chance was to form a strong line and charge hard and fast before the Massi moved in too close. Without a strong line they had no hope of driving a wedge through the mass of foot soldiers that were quickly surrounding them. In moments several hundred men gathered around the Captain’s position and though Hothgaard could see the rest of his Knights disintegrating around him, he did not hesitate. He and his men charged directly for what they believed the weakest Massi position; they charged directly toward Gwaynn and Vio.

But Gwaynn did not get to meet the approaching threat; instead he was quickly jostled backward by his own men until he was safely behind a strong line of halberdiers. The men immediately planted their halberds into the ground and angled them up to meet the oncoming charge.

Under normal conditions the fearsome warhorses of the Knights would have crashed into the lines with fury, but all across the battlefield came the screams of dying horses, this plus the random panicky movements of the many rider-less horses, filled the air with the scent of fear and caused the charge to falter well before the two lines even met.

“HOLD!” Gwaynn yelled in his most commanding voice. The Knights were defeated he knew that now. Only a few hundred were still mounted at this point in the battle, and all around him the Knights afoot were being surrounded. Those who were still fighting were being systematically slaughtered, but many others realized the battle was already lost and were throwing down their arms in capitulation.

“HOLD!” Gwaynn yelled again and slowly the pockets of violence within the sound of his voice began to diminish. As the cries and shouts of battle began to die away the atmosphere slowly began to change to one of inaction. The battlefield was filled with the dead and dying, but also the living. The Temple Knights remaining were now utterly surrounded by the much more numerous Massi and Toranado infantry.

“Sir Knights…do you yield?” Gwaynn cried out over the short distance between his position and the last of the mounted Knights. The Toranado were approaching slowly from the rear and on all sides the infantry was closing on the only large group of mounted enemy.

Captain Hothgaard, who was among the Knights still a horse, looked wildly about in disbelieve, thinking the outcome of the battle was somehow a very big illusion and soon he would spot the rest of his army riding to the rescue. Seconds later he did spot a large formation of cavalry riding toward them from the south of Claymont. Instantly his heart soared, but then he spotted the flag flying at the head of the column, it was a white eagle flying on a dark blue field; the flag of Massi.

‘It could not be…we destroyed them!’ Hothgaard thought.

“Sir Knights…the High King is dead. Lost at sea. You are fighting alone, King Weldon Palmerrio is our prisoner and the Deutzani are destroyed,” the young man behind the formation of spears spoke loudly and directly to Hothgaard. The Captain blinked rapidly at the news.

‘Could it be true? Could the High King be lost?’

“Yield and no more harm will come to you…your wounded will be attended,” said the voice and after a brief moment Hothgaard felt his beating heart slowly calm in his chest. He rode forward away from his confused and disheartened men; most of those around him were unbloodied and had in fact killed no one. For them, as well as for their commander, the battle seemed unreal, not like any other engagement in memory. How was it possible to lose a battle while so many were without wounds, or to be victorious without drawing blood?

“Who speaks?” Hothgaard asked, feeling strangely cool now that the specter of defeat was accepted.

A young man moved out of the crowd and through the forest of spear points. As he cleared his men, Hothgaard found that he recognized him…or rather the likeness of him. The Captain knew without a doubt that this was the son of King Arnot of Massi…this was Gwaynn Massi.

“I am Gwaynn Massi,” the young man confirmed. “And I give you my word that if you yield no more blood need be spilled in this war.”

Captain Hothgaard looked down at the tall, straight-backed young man and actually smiled. He was tired of war…the Massi had won and for some reason the fact of defeat did not cause as much pain as he feared it might. Suddenly he was smiling and he actually chuckled at the thought. In truth, he had never considered defeat…at least not until he arrived on the shores of Massi.

“We will yield Prince Gwaynn Massi,” Hothgaard answered.

“King Gwaynn!” A lone shout came out of the crowd. There was a moment’s pause and then thousands repeated the call. “King Gwaynn! King Gwaynn! King Gwaynn!” The call went on and on and on before finally dying out.

“Very well,” Hothgaard said with a bow of his head, “King Gwaynn,” he conceded and unceremoniously threw down his lance. After a moment’s hesitation the Knights around him did likewise and the final battle, which had gone on for a little less than an hour, was abruptly and decisively over.

Captain Hothgaard dismounted and walked slowly to Gwaynn, when he was close he slowly drew his sword and rested it on his upturned palms.

“My sword,” he yelled for all his men to hear. Gwaynn nodded and then slowly reached out and took the hilt and pulled it up and away from his enemy…now suddenly his prisoner. He thrust the sword up into the air and instantly the army around him shouted their relief and joy to the sky.

“You are?” Gwaynn asked as the din slowly subsided.

“Captain Hothgaard of the Temple Knights,” he answered solemnly. Gwaynn gave a curt nod indicating that he had heard of the leader of the Knights.

“Follow me,” Gwaynn commanded. “Bring your horse,” he added and the two made their way through the living and the dead. Hothgaard was cheered by the fact that though a great many of his Knights were a foot, they were alive. However there were many that lie dead in his path…including Captain Tramm, whose eyes were wide in death, the back of his head cracked open like an egg.

Hothgaard stared at his former friend and comrade, but once he was passed he began to turn his mind to those who were still alive. Defeat was a new experience for him and he was unsure how to handle it.

“My men?” he asked the young man walking beside him.

“Will be treated well…as long as they present no resistance.

“Is the High King truly dead?” Hothgaard asked as other men and women joined in their march from the battlefield, some of those around him the Captain recognized as Tars from the Island of Noble.

“He is truly,” Gwaynn answered finally breaking from the rear lines of the Massi army. They were moving slightly uphill toward a group of men who were overlooking the battle. Somehow Hothgaard had always assumed Pr…King Gwaynn would be among the men controlling the battle, the fact that he was in the very midst of the fighting raised his estimation of the youth dramatically.

“Dead…” Hothgaard repeated mostly to himself.

“He is, and now you must decide where your future loyalties will lie,” an older man to his right said. The man was wearing the colors of Noble and after a moment Hothgaard recognized him.

“High Tar Kostek?”

The man nodded but said nothing more, leaving Hothgaard to ponder his words.

‘And where do my loyalties lie,’ the Captain wondered, ‘with Prince Nigel? He was the logical choice…but was it the wise choice. Prince Nigel was the eldest but he only cared for his music…but perhaps that was not such a bad thing. These broken lands could use a little music, a little dancing. Queen Audra would surely challenge such a decision and prop her own Aiden up as successor. It could get messy indeed. The Knights were the authority behind the High Family and they were beaten, therefore the High Family was beaten. He would have to think on who would succeed High King Caiman Mastoc.’

“Captain Hothgaard, this is General Lonogan Bock,” Gwaynn said and Hothgaard bowed low.

“I’m honored,” the Captain said meaning it, if this was the man who had come up with the strategy used against them.

“As am I,” Lonogan answered with a nod and a slight smile. “If you are alive and in the company of my King, can I assume that the war is now over?”

Hothgaard considered the point for the briefest moment then with realization said. “I guess it is,” and gave his own slight smile.

‘The war is over…the High King is dead,’ he thought then as the rest of the group mounted up Captain Hothgaard wondered just what was in store for the lands of the Inland Sea.

ǂ

Three weeks later the Temple Knights were still adjusting to the idea of defeat and Gwaynn Massi was making the slow transformation from warlord to domestic leader, ruling over a now peaceful nation. The transformation was not always smooth or painless, but with each passing day, life without war and bloodshed was starting to feel almost normal. And all the while, Samantha was growing larger as her time drew near.

“You look tired,” Gwaynn said moving to help her from the chair but she just waved him away, determined to push herself up. She eventually did so but Gwaynn noticed that her belly left the chair well before the rest of her.

“I am tired,” Samantha snapped then smiled. “I can’t sleep,” she added in a much softer tone. “I can’t lie on my belly anymore…or my back…or my side…I just can’t sleep.”

“It will be over soon,” Gwaynn encouraged her.

“Surgeon Knote says two or three more weeks,” she snapped again as Gwaynn watched her waddle over to the pitcher of water. He sat up in bed, naked to the waist and looked over at his soon to be queen. They were to be united in three days…Tar Kostek doing the honors. She was big…his son was going to be big.

“At least you’ll be a queen soon,” he commented trying to cheer her, and she did turn and smile. Once again he saw the girl he loved in her eyes and face.

“The largest queen in all the land,” she said playfully.

“The largest queen, bearing the largest prince.”

“Princess!” Samantha insisted.

Before Gwaynn could answer there was a knock at the door. Gwaynn glanced at Samantha briefly. It was early…too early for a social visit.

“Come,” Gwaynn finally said, then stood and pulled on his pants.

Lonogan Bock opened the door and stuck his head in. “Good Morn,” he said then spotted Samantha, “M’lady,” he added.

“Prince Phillip is ranting again. He went to see King Weldon early this morning and now he’s upset.”

Gwaynn sighed. Prince Phillip Toranado was becoming obsessed with the Palmerrio King and insisted on several occasions that the man be placed under his authority. Phillip wanted the Palmerrio King taken back to Eno to stand trial…and most likely hung.

“Where’s Phillip?” Gwaynn asked strapping on the belt which held his kali. He still wore his weapons wherever he went and most likely always would.

“In the main hall, waiting for you,” Bock replied. “It took some convincing from Tabernas to persuade me to come and wake you.”

Samantha snorted, but Gwaynn said nothing. He had great respect for the Toranado Weapons Master; the man would have made a fine Tar. If Phillip would just listen to Tabernas more often…

Once dressed Gwaynn came over and hugged Samantha from behind. “Go back to bed,” he whispered and gave her a quick squeeze then ran his right hand over her extended belly. “I’ll have someone wake you if anything exciting happens.”

Samantha snorted again. “If I’m sleeping and someone wakes me, it had better be for my wedding…nothing else interests me at the moment.”

“Agreed,” he replied with a smile. She climbed back into bed before he was out the door, but again sleep would not come easily.

“Phillip!” Gwaynn said with a smile, surprised that Tar Kostek, the Solitary N’dori and the High Zarina Monde were also present along with the Toranado Prince and his venerable Weapons Master Alba Tabernas. Gwaynn wondered why the others were in attendance but had little time to inquire.

Phillip turned as Gwaynn and Bock entered. “I’ll not be dissuaded again Gwaynn,” Phillip began and strode forward. “The Toranado will be leaving after the wedding…and I want Weldon.”

Gwaynn stood his ground as the Toranado Prince marched right up, stopping before him. “I know how you feel,” Gwaynn answered with genuine sympathy, though he knew there was little chance he would give in to his friend’s demands.

“He attacked my country and sacked my home city.”

Gwaynn nodded, stepped to one side, and then moved farther into the room, angling toward Kostek in the hope that his old mentor would come to his aid. “He attacked my country as well, but putting a King on trial is dangerous business.”

“But he slaughtered my countrymen and nearly drove the wits from my mother. I want my revenge as you’ve had your revenge against Arsinol.”

Gwaynn’s eyes flashed momentarily betraying a spark of anger, but he took a deep breath before rounding on Phillip. “Arsinol was killed in battle not brought before a circus trial…and he had my mother and sister killed before my eyes,” he added through clenched teeth and Prince Phillip flinched, realizing he’d gone too far. His anger left him immediately.

“My apologies,” he said. “But I cannot stomach the man just going free after what he’s done. He needs to be punished.”

“He will be,” Gwaynn promised.

“How?” Phillip asked with genuine curiosity. “How will he be punished? Who will punish him?”

Gwaynn had no answer for that and the two young men just stood looking at one another for several long minutes contemplating the question, but thankfully Phillip seemed to have made his point. He patted Gwaynn on the shoulder as he left the room in the hopes that the gesture would soften any hard feelings. Tabernas followed his prince out giving Gwaynn a nod and a sympathetic smile.

Gwaynn frowned, mulling over the Toranado Prince’s questions. There were no answers. Life seemed so much clearer when all the questions were questions of war.

“That was well done,” Kostek said approaching Gwaynn. He too patted Gwaynn gently on the shoulder. “Pardons General…but could you give us a moment?” Kostek asked Lonogan, who raised his eyebrows in surprise, but quickly agreed and followed Prince Phillip from the room.

Gwaynn wondered briefly at the dismissal. “I can’t just give King Weldon to the Toranado. His death at their hands would create even more animosity between the two countries.”

Kostek nodded. “Yes Prince Keel, Weldon’s eldest, would not take his father’s death lightly.”

“And you know I’ve sent Zarina na Gall to Cassinni,” Monde said. “She’s to bring King Marc a few days early. The Cassinni would like your assistance on the Deutzani problem.”

“The Deutzani problem?” Gwaynn asked.

“Well yes, Arden died in the battle for Lynndon and now his two younger brothers, Avaal and Antioc, are beginning to squabble. Both claim they should be next in line for the throne. Hell, neither deserves it if you ask me. Avaal is sixteen and Antioc just a year older. They’re too young, but they’re each gathering men and arms to make a push for the crown. The land is in chaos, especially up north near the border with the Cassinni where there have been a number of local skirmishes already,” Monde explained.

“But why ask me?” Gwaynn inquired. “I’ve just managed to get control of my own country.” When no one answered he continued. “What’s going on?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.

N’dori laughed and Monde gave him a wry smile.

“He’s very wise,” the Solitary commented as if Gwaynn were not in the room and even Kostek smiled at that.

“We’re to have a few visitors today,” Monde announced, which did little to remove the frown from Gwaynn’s face.

“Visitors?” Gwaynn asked his eyes going from Monde’s to Kostek’s to N’dori’s, but he could not read anything in any of them.

“Yes…” Monde answered but N’dori cut her off.

“Bring them in,” she said to Kostek, who nodded and walked to a small side door off the western wall of the hall. He held the door open and Gwaynn saw him gesture to someone in the room beyond. Moments later Surgeon Knote of Helles Island entered the room, followed closely by Master Putal and Renault of Lato, then finally and a bit surprisingly, Captain Hothgaard of the Temple Knights.

Gwaynn greeted the Masters with astonishment, surprised and happy to see Renault and to a lesser degree Putal, and confused by the presence of Hothgaard.

“What’s going on?” Gwaynn repeated, but still no one answered. Gwaynn glanced at Master Kostek accusingly.

The older man approached Gwaynn again.

“We are waiting for…” but before he could finish a bridge suddenly sprang open in the middle of the hall not ten feet from Gwaynn and through it stepped the High Tarina Nystrom and Tar Nev. Gwaynn remembered Nystrom as one of the Tarinas on the Council who’d come to his defense. It helped his memory that she was rather youthful and strikingly attractive, with long chocolate brown hair. She approached, giving Gwaynn a dazzling smile and embraced him.

“Congratulations on your victory,” she said softly and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Gwaynn gave her a half smile and a nod and then his eyes locked on the face of his mentor, Tar Nev.

“Mast….master,” Gwaynn said, now thoroughly shocked. “What are you doing here?”

Nev smiled. “I thought that would be obvious,” he said in his cheerful tone. Gwaynn couldn’t help but smile; he’d all but forgotten his old Master’s easy, happy manner. “I’m here to see the crowning of the new High King.”

Gwaynn stared at him, aghast.

“Close your mouth son, you look dumbfounded. It’s not a good look for a High King,” Nev joked and N’dori laughed.

“High King?” Gwaynn asked and glanced about with the hope that someone in the room would object to such a ludicrous idea, but no one did. “But what of Prince Nigel?’ Gwaynn asked and even Nev turned somber.

“Speaker Gan has informed us that Prince Nigel is dead…as is Princess Anya,” Zarina Monde told him. “Apparently they both died in accidents…very suspicious accidents.”

Captain Hothgaard frowned and looked at Gwaynn with a troubled expression and suddenly Gwaynn understood the man’s presence.

“High King!” Nev exclaimed with a laugh and clapped Gwaynn on the back. “I couldn’t think of anyone better,” the bushy haired Solitary said.

“But Queen Audra…and Prince Aiden.”

“Aiden is too young…and Audra’s treacherous and a Deutzani,” Nev replied. “Do you really want a Deutzani in power?”

Gwaynn frowned.

“And would you truly want to release Weldon Palmerrio with Audra still in overall power?” Tar Kostek interjected.

“But…”

Tarina Nystrom suddenly glided forward and stopped directly before Gwaynn once again. “I am High Tarina of Noble now…and I give you my blessing,” the woman said and suddenly she was on her knees before him.

“As do we,” Master Putal and Renault said in unison and they too knelt before him. Moments later all the leaders of the Temple Islands declared their support and knelt, even Tar Kostek and Tar Nev, who while kneeling were looking up and smiling at Gwaynn, their eyes twinkling with mutual satisfaction.

“There is no one else…no other path available that will not leave you and your people in danger,” Nev whispered. “As High King you will be able to address all the grievances that now plague our lands. You will be able to rebuild the lands of the Inland Sea.”

Gwaynn said nothing just stood above them all, too stunned to speak, but his mind was in a whir. ‘High King!’ He was hardly comfortable with the thought of being King of Massi…and then the questions hit him. ‘Who would rule Massi? And Deutzani…Audra? With the death of her father and brother, it may be her rightful place but she was a sworn enemy of Massi. Could he allow her to rule? And what of her son…and the babe on the way?’

‘If there’s to be lasting peace, Audra and her children will have to die,’ he thought, though the idea repulsed him. He shook his head hard as if trying to drive away the demons from his mind.

“And if I refuse,” Gwaynn heard himself say, as if from a dark and lonely tunnel. Suddenly the thought of just ruling Massi held great appeal.

“Of course you can refuse,” High Tarina Nystrom said standing, the others followed suit with a loud rustling of feet. “Our decision then would be more difficult but would likely fall upon the babe Prince Aiden. His mother would rule until he came of age.”

Gwaynn considered this news thoughtfully for a moment. Leaving a Deutzani to rule over the lands was not very desirable…not if he wished to honor the deaths of his family…not if he wished to honor the death of Gwynn. He sighed then. What would Gwynn make of his ascension to High King? He thought a long moment and panicked. He had little idea what she would have thought. He could no longer hear her in his thoughts and could only vaguely make out her face. She was dying to him and for that he was sad, but somehow her dying changed him, made him strong. He squared his shoulders.

“If you will have me, I will be High King,” Gwaynn said and in that moment felt ready to make all the hard decision that were before him, including the one that continued to plague his mind.

Everyone clapped and there were smiles all around as each congratulated him in turn. When the hall was finally silent, Gwaynn turned not to Tar Nev, not to Tar Kostek, but instead to the High Tarina Nystrom.

“Beware…the first act I plan as High King is to ask the assistance of Noble Island in a task that is long overdue,” Gwaynn said.

Tarina Nystrom raised her eyebrows, intrigued. “But of course, Noble Island is at your service. What is it you wish?”

Gwaynn looked down at the powerful woman then glanced out at the others before returning his gaze to the High Tarina. “The utter destruction of Sinis and all associated.”

To Gwaynn’s surprise the Tarina smiled. “That should not be a problem. We’ve word that Sinis moved on the King’s Island yesterday. Tar Nacht has now set himself up as Weapons Master to the young Queen. He’s pulled his Executioners from across the lands to help him consolidate his power, but he is spread thin…Sinis, Light and the King’s Island, all held without an army.”

“We would never support him,” Hothgaard growled. “The man’s a fool.”

“No,” Tar Nev countered, “ambitious, but no fool.”

“Fool or not,” Gwaynn said. “It’s time to end the terror of Sinis.”

The meeting slowly broke up with the unspoken promise that the crowning of Gwaynn as the High King would be kept secret for two days when the ceremony would be performed. It was opportunistic that both King Marc and Queen Ramona Toranado would be guests at the upcoming nuptials and therefore would be present for the crowning as well. Of course, King Weldon Palmerrio would also be on hand and that only left the Rhondono and the Deutzani without a presence.

‘It will be enough,’ Gwaynn thought as he made his way back to his room in a daze. He felt slightly manipulated and wondered ruefully if Tar Nev had planned this from the very beginning. Gwaynn shook his head with wonder. He wouldn’t put it past his old master. The room was shuttered and dark, and he entered quietly. He needed to be alone to think and a dark room suited him at the moment.

“You’re back already?” Samantha asked a little groggily.

“Yes…I woke you. I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“No stay…I can’t sleep anyway,” she insisted and struggled to a sitting position on the bed. “I need to be up and around or the people of Massi will think their queen a laggard.”

“Their High Queen,” Gwaynn corrected her.

“Open the shutters will you,” she replied. “Light would be…what did you say?” She stopped talking and was looking at him as he pulled open one shutter and let in the light of the morning sky. Her red hair was tousled but her eyes were now alert with no sign of sleepiness. He went to her and nuzzled her neck.

“You will make a glorious High Queen,” he said and placed a hand on her naked thigh then ran it up under her nightdress and caressed her stomach.

“High Queen?” she asked.

Gwaynn nodded. “High Queen.”

“Oh my.”

XIX

When Tar Nacht finally landed on the shores of the King’s Island it was with a sense of triumph and expectation, but now two days later he was beginning to wonder if perhaps the move was premature. King Caiman Mastoc was indeed dead; the rumors were confirmed by his spies in Parma, the Cassinni Capital. It was ironic that the spies Cassinni tried so hard to keep from its lands were the very people responsible for saving the life of their King. Nacht smiled. Life was full of little ironies, like the fact that good High Queen Audra, though young, was far from easy to control. It didn’t help that she was in a rage over the death of her husband. She was grief stricken about Caiman, whose death followed so closely on the heels of her father’s and brother’s.

‘And let’s not even mention the untimely deaths of Nigel and Anya.’ Nacht thought with a grin. He suspected, but could not prove that the diminutive Queen was behind the pair of accidents to Caiman’s older brood.

Nacht was impressed. Audra, it seemed was a young woman after his own heart, ruthless and deadly. But Audra was also proving to be very strong minded, and in her grief she demanded revenge against all her enemies. The list was long and included the Cassinni, the Toranado but most of all the Massi and Prince Gwaynn.

Of course, he counseled patience. The lands of the Massi had become a very dark, very black hole. Nacht had heard nothing from his Executioners in Massi and there were nearly a half dozen of them fighting with the Palmerrio army. To make matters worse, there’d been no news from the Temple Knights for over three weeks, a fact that helped embolden Nacht to move on the King’s Island and push for the position of Weapons Master to the Queen. That she accepted so readily surprised him and demonstrated her own growing alarm at the lack of news coming out of Massi, that she allowed him to bring a large support force revealed the full extent of her fear.

The risk was immense, but the chance to occupy the King’s Island without resistance was too great an opportunity to pass up. There were now over a dozen Tars of Sinis on the King’s Island plus over thirty high ranking acolytes, plus nearly three hundred heavy support troops. The Isle of Light was all but abandoned, with only one minor Tar and a few hundred support personnel. Nacht no longer had any real desire for the island, if they held it so much the better, but it no longer was of much importance. The Travelers were severely weakened and might not survive the coming years. If Queen Audra had her way they would quickly be eradicated, but Nacht would rather the Travelers be under his control. He would think of a way…if he had time to consolidate his hold on power.

At the moment, standing on the large balcony that led from his rooms, Nacht looked out over the great city of the High King and then to the sea beyond. It was very late, but he could not sleep. He was risking everything and knew it, but he did so with a large amount of satisfaction. He was growing old and his skills as Tar were diminishing. It was only a matter of time before he, as High Tar, would be challenged by some young, talented upstart. He thought it might have been the Tarina de Baard but she’d proven weaker than expected. But it was coming; he knew it. Everyone on Sinis knew it. His days of power were growing short, so why not risk everything; after all it would soon not be his in any case. Nacht smiled inwardly as a strong gust of wind pushed through the night and ruffled his thin shirt. If he could no longer control Sinis, then perhaps he could command the entire Inland Sea, the possible rewards were worth the gamble. And if he lost, well then let the young bastards go about building a new kingdom of Executioners. That would not be his problem. Allies were his problem, at the moment he and Queen Audra needed them desperately. King Donnis of the Rhondono continued to pledge his support but as yet no army had sailed from the land. This morning, Nacht urged the Queen to contact Prince Keel Palmerrio and inquire about any additional troops he could give the High King and his father.

Keel had been reticent at first but in the end he agreed to place two thousand more troops at their disposal to aid the Knights and his father. Both Nacht and Audra were elated by the news, but were also ignorant to the fact that the Palmerrio army occupying Toranado was on the march, returning home on Weldon’s orders. The commanding General of the disgraced army had the misfortune to tell Prince Keel that his father was captured and would be ransomed…the first demand being that all Palmerrio troops must leave Toranado, and so they were trudging across enemy land and coming home.

Keel was loyal to his father and would do anything to help secure his release. He would make no major move that might endanger his father…like sending an army against the enemy that now held him. Thus he gave Audra and Nacht two thousand troops even though he would soon have over twenty thousand at his disposal.

‘But what of the Temple Knights?’ Nacht wondered, his eyes drawn to a bright flash of lighting in the distance. A storm was coming but in the darkness he could not see it. The Knights were the key to everything. When they were finally victorious over the pesky Massi, would they accept the Tars of Sinis on the King’s Island? That was the real question…the real key. But it was one that Nacht himself could not answer…at least not at the moment.

ǂ

The ceremony to crown Gwaynn High King took nearly everyone by surprise, including Lonogan Bock who stood openmouthed as together the High Tarina Nystrom and Captain Hothgaard placed the crown on Gwaynn Massi’s head. The ceremony was filled with enough pomp to compensate for the lack of any real grandeur and was held fittingly on the Plateau between the two wooden bailey forts. Already General Bock had builders working on the plans for a new stone castle, but its completion was many, many years in the future.  For Gwaynn, as well as for most of the Massi people, the day went by in a blur of excitement and wonder. The questions for Massi were many, the most prevalent being, who would now rule over the country. The High King ruled over the entirety of the Inland Sea and thus it would be a severe conflict of interest for the same man to rule over any of the Families lands. For a thousand years the High King ruled over all, but the King’s Island was the only real land under his direct control.

Gwaynn was not old enough to have any heirs of ruling age, nor were there any direct cousins. Arnot, Gwaynn’s father, was actually the youngest of three boys, and the lone male survivor; his eldest brother died of a rotting disease almost a decade ago and the second in childhood. Arnot did have an older sister still alive, Anitra. She was the eldest of the brood and in Gwaynn’s mind, nearly ancient. She was married, but barren, with no children, and she’d never shown any desire for courtly life. She was currently living out her life peacefully up on the finger outside the city of Heron. Her husband operated a prosperous fishing fleet in his younger days but he’d since sold that off and they were both living comfortably off the profits. Gwaynn had happy memories of visiting his Aunt, but few of them actually involved her, instead they were of Gwynn and the excitement of seeing the rough seas that continuously pounded the beaches up near the tip of the finger; no Anitra, at her age, would not be a good candidate to rule Massi even if she wanted such a thing.

But it was up to Gwaynn to decide, and as High King he could give whatever decision he made, legitimacy. All through the evening the people of Massi celebrated with vast quantities of food and drink and though many posed the question of who would rule over the land to the new High King, Gwaynn always declined any comment. Tar Nev, who surprisingly joined in the revelry, watched the new King with a constant smile, knowing that he’d chosen his student well.

Underneath the open sky, the people of Massi danced, drank and rejoiced in their freedom and good fortune. The air was very crisp but the celebration was ringed by a half dozen large bonfires that threw off a surprisingly large amount of light and heat, so most were very comfortable. Gwaynn, as High King, had little time for rest and was hauled out to dance by many a young maid. Samantha too, took a few turns, but being so far along with child she tired quickly and had to take many breaks. But surprisingly, Samantha did not feel any jealousy towards the other ladies who quickly jumped in to take her place, not even when Vio Valencia held Gwaynn a bit too close. It helped to know that on the morrow she would be Gwaynn’s bride…his Queen…the High Queen. She could be gracious and share her man…just a little. She suddenly ached for her father, wondering what he would make of her wedding…of her soon to be husband. But deep inside she knew her father would approve. How could he not?

“He has chosen his queen well,” said a voice to her right and Samantha looked over just as Tar Nev dropped into a chair at her side. Samantha colored slightly at the compliment, awed by the presence of the infamous Tar.

“My thoughts exactly,” she answered with a grin and Nev laughed loud and easy.

“I was thinking of my father,” she explained. “Of how I’m sure he would have approved of the match.”

Nev nodded. “Wise man, your father and a good husband. It was easy to see he adored Beth…your mother. And he was a master brewer.”

“You…you knew my father and mother?” Samantha asked, believing he was playing with her.

“Oh yes…Jon, my brother, always talked highly of Master Thomas Fultan but cursed him when he won the brewing contests, but then Jon was always a bit of a sore loser.”

“Jon?”

“Jon Baal,” Nev replied.

“Jon Baal!” Samantha repeated excitedly. “He’s your brother!” Jon Baal was a well known brewer, one her father always talked of with fondness and obvious respect.

Nev chuckled. “Mmmm yes, and is he going to be upset he missed this celebration.”

Samantha laughed then. “Father always said the greatest miracle in life was that Jon Baal could brew his ale faster than he drank it.”

Nev laughed again and then stood. “I believe you’ve rested enough,” he said and offered her his hand. “I would like to dance with our future High Queen.”

Samantha smiled and allowed herself to be taken out onto the field that served as the dance floor and was utterly surprised by the grace of the bushy haired master.

She danced a long while with Nev and entire time he smiled down at her. Surprisingly she didn’t tire and even seemed to grow stronger while in his arms. It was odd and she even felt a hint of melancholy as he finally passed her off to others, but her energy remained high and she danced with many, many partners. She danced with Tar Kostek and Endid, Lonogan Bock, Van Valencia, Jeffery Gaston, young Olney Hawser, three times with Prince Phillip and once with his Weapons Master…and of course with the ever faithful Cobb…and then there was Gwaynn. She danced with him first and she danced with him last, just as the large fires that lit the celebration were finally dying out in the early hours of the morning.

“Come let’s put you to bed,” Gwaynn whispered and led her away from a group of merrymakers. Everyone remaining extolled them to stay but they were ignored. By the time they reached their room Samantha could barely keep her eyes open. It was late and she was exhausted.

“That was fun,” she said softly as Gwaynn helped her out of her dress. She dropped on the bed and pulled up the covers, still in her slip.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Gwaynn answered as he crawled in next to her. “We get to do it all over again tomorrow.” But tomorrow they would do it as husband and wife.

ǂ

“No…there are two in Deutzani,” Nev corrected lightly, three days later. He’d let Gwaynn enjoy a few days of marital bliss, but now it was time to gain control of the land and begin his reign. Nev was eager to be off, but he could manage to at least wait until all Gwaynn’s enemies were at heel and the land was at peace…then be damned with the place!

They were out on the plains in front of the main gates of Manse, a large group of the most powerful people in the land. There were seven Tars of Noble, plus another four students and four Travelers of Light, plus Gwaynn, Bock and Captain Gaston.

“Where?” Tar Endid asked, ready to be at them.

“One in Malche and another up north in Naught…she’s working with Prince Avaal and causing trouble all along the Cassinni border,” Nev explained.

“So do we hit them first?” N’dori asked.

“We hit them first,” both Gwaynn and Nev said in unison.

Nev laughed. “My apologies your Highness,” he added with a slight bow of his head. “However I think it would be wise if you would sit this one out.”

Gwaynn frowned deeply. He did not want to lose out on his revenge against the Executioners. His soul demanded restitution for the crimes they committed.

Nev held up a hand, reading these very thoughts in the young King. “The bulk of the Executioners are on King’s Island, including Nacht. You’ll have your due, but those few which are scattered about in the lands do not warrant an all out attack led by the High King. Stay here. Take the time to get Massi’s affairs in order. I take it you’ve someone in mind to rule the land?”

Gwaynn nodded and struggled to keep his eyes from Lonogan’s.

“Then let the lucky soul know about your decision. It’s only fair. We can handle these few killers of Sinis without you,” Nev finished, his eyes twinkling with some unknown amusement. “And I promise you can lead the attack to take back the King’s…your island.”

Gwaynn found that he could not truly find a good reason to argue so in the end he agreed.

“We’ll need your help to get us started,” Monde said. “Laynee and Daniel will assist you in getting us all out on the tip of the finger.” Daniel was growing stronger and the day of the wedding he Traveled for the very first time. It was quite an accomplishment, especially for a male student.

Gwaynn nodded, feeling worse by the moment that he would not be off with the rest of them.

“Let’s do this,” Endid said. It was quickly decided that he would be going after the Executioner in Malche, accompanied by the High Tarina Nystrom, Tar Myson and Tarina N’dori, while Tar Nev would lead the party against the female Executioner to the north. He would be taking along Tar Kostek and Halstad. Of course Monde and na Gall would also be going along on the first leg of the trip and would then send the others off to their final destinations. Vio, who was still wrapped up tightly in an air of melancholy, volunteered to go along with the Travelers to offer protection while they rested for the return trip and she would be joined by Saran, William and Tam. Gwaynn would be the lead Traveler for the move to the finger. He would be sorely tested and very tired when it was over. He just hoped Laynee and Daniel had grown in strength.

They had; in fact, Gwaynn was astounded in the growth of both young Travelers, especially Laynee, who might have been strong enough to send the group off by herself. From the very beginning the bridge was Laynee’s and it was Gwaynn and Daniel who offered support. Gwaynn could feel the power radiating out of the young girl and the vortex she created was enormously strong. When the task was complete and the large bridge that appeared over the grassing plains popped out of existence, Gwaynn and the two young Travelers shot back to their bodies and staggered in unison. Gwaynn felt immediately weak and hungry. He ignored the looks of awe he was getting from his two commanders and instead glanced down at the young girl to his left. She gave him an impish grin.

“I’ve been practicing with the High Zarina,” she explained and handed Gwaynn a sugar cube.

“Impressive,” he answered back, sucking on the sweet, hard block of sugar.

“Thank you M’lord,” she replied and gave an exaggerated curtsy.

“Quit that!” Gwaynn said with a laugh, “and go get your rest. We’ll need to bring them back when the job is finished.”

Laynee giggled but nodded, wondering just how long it would take the Tars to hunt down the evil people of Sinis.

“Both of you run along now and get something to eat,” Gwaynn told the two young Travelers and they smiled and headed off at nearly a run. Gwaynn shook his head, very impressed by their growing strength then he turned to Lonogan and Gaston.

“Walk with me,” he said and his two top men nodded.

The three turned together and walked back toward Manse at a leisurely pace, followed by nearly a dozen handpicked Knights who followed Gwaynn everywhere now. The morning was overcast and cold…there was the smell of snow in the air. They’d been lucky during the war and Gwaynn expected winter to hit them with all its fury any time now. Perhaps it would be a good thing to move to the more tropical islands in the middle of the Inland Sea.

“What do you think of Captain Hothgaard?” Gwaynn asked Jeffery Gaston as they made their way up to the main gates. The gates were swung open wide to accommodate the many peasants that now moved up and down the roads to Cape and Solarii. Trade was growing rapidly now that the war was over.

“He seems an honorable man…a master horseman,” Gaston answered as they moved off the road and let a large wagon rumble past. The wagon was pulled by six large oxen and was loaded down with goods to sell.

“Many pardons,” the wagon master said with a slight tip of his hat. Bock smiled and waved at the man, who undoubtedly would have been aghast had he known he’d just forced the High King off the road and into a muddy ditch. Gwaynn, however, thought nothing of it, they needed the trade; Massi needed the trade, and they were all happy to have it even if it meant stepping into a little mud.

“Someone you can work with?” Gwaynn continued as they moved back on the road and through the open gates. Gaston did not hesitate.

“I would say,” he answered. “I could learn much from the man and he seems fair, though tough minded.”

“I think his confidence is shot,” Bock piped in. “And he’ll need to regain it before going back onto the battlefield.”

Gwaynn nodded. “My thoughts exactly,” he replied then turned to Gaston again. “I’m putting him under your command when we move against Sinis. We’ll see how he performs. If he bounces back…I’ll probably allow him to lead the attack against the King’s Island.” Gwaynn paused, then. “No questions of loyalty?” He asked. Hothgaard had taken an oath of fealty after Gwaynn was crowned High King, still questions lingered, especially if the man was to lead an attack on his former home and Queen.

Bock deferred to Gaston who knew the Captain of the Temple Knights as well as any of them. For the past three weeks the two groups of cavalry worked and trained together, though not always without tension.

Gaston shook his head. “As far as I can tell Captain Hothgaard accepts your role as King completely…Mastoc is dead, but before he died he allied himself with the Tars of Sinis which the Captain found insulting and a bit distasteful. I think he can be trusted…it’s the rest of the Knights I’m unsure of.”

“How so?” Lonogan asked with a frown.

“I just don’t know them, or how loyal they are to Hothgaard himself, after all, he lead them to their first real defeat in over a thousand years.”

“It is a worry,” Gwaynn admitted, pausing every so often to acknowledge a greeting from a shop keeper or maid on the street. A group of small children had taken to following them through the roads of lower Manse, laughing and squealing and marching about, but they kept their distance so the three men ignored them. “We may not need their support to conquer the King’s Island, but my gut says it could lead to disaster if we do not take them along, at least symbolically. Their presence will go a long way to legitimizing my rule.”

Bock smiled. “What else does your gut tell you?”

Gwaynn grinned as they walked up on a large three story inn. It was familiar, not quite the same, but close. “It tells me I’m very hungry. Let’s join Taylor for an early lunch…if he’s around.”

“I’d hoped you’d say that,” replied Lonogan, but Gaston begged off. He was overseeing the ever growing herds…nearly three dozen mares were pregnant and would be delivering their foals in the spring.

Taylor was off on a buying trip…bed sheets and covers, but Carolyn his plump, severe wife greeted Gwaynn as if he was the High King himself…which in fact he was. She led them to a new private dining room behind the bar. Gwaynn allowed this because the constant looks of awe and excitement from the people around him were becoming a bit unnerving.

They ate and drank in silence for a time, Bock for about ten minutes, Gwaynn for nearly three quarters of an hour, with Carolyn fawning over them the entire time, but when they were finished both felt sated and comfortable.

“Leave the pitcher Madame Carolyn if you will,” Gwaynn said by way of dismissal and the old woman caught the hint immediately and left without question.

“Have you given any thought to how you’ll rule Massi?” Gwaynn asked bluntly after the woman had gone. He caught Lonogan in the middle of a sip of beer and he had to fight to keep from spitting it all over his King.

“You’re joking,” Bock barked and his stomach clenched. This would not do. Ruling Massi was not in his plans.

“I’m not.”

“Surely you have a cousin…an uncle…some close family member fit to rule,” Bock demanded, wondering how he was going to decline the offer if Gwaynn continued to push.

“I do not,” Gwaynn replied, slightly amused by his friend’s attitude. “You’ve fought with me all over Massi. Have I called any of my trusted lieutenants’ cousin, or uncle? I have an elderly aunt living up near Heron…but she’s not able, nor willing.”

Lonogan frowned and downed his beer in five large gulps. He filled his cup again just as quickly. “But to rule Massi in your stead…” he began.

“Not in my stead…as King. Of course you will have to change your last name,” Gwaynn added and Lonogan’s heart fell. Kings were not permitted to marry Travelers, or even keep one in country. It was considered too dangerous for the other royal families in the land.

“But…” Bock began and Gwaynn finally became aware of the unique nature of his friend’s distress. He guessed the cause immediately and smiled briefly.

“What’s the problem?” Gwaynn asked, pretending ignorance, and was surprised when Lonogan gulped at his beer once again, then stood and began to pace back and forth across the room, his boots knocking out the rhythm of his stride on the wooden floor. Gwaynn took pity on his older friend.

“Are you afraid Jess will not like the idea of being Queen of Massi?”

Lonogan stopped in his tracks and turned on the young man sitting calmly before him. “You know?”

“That you planned to move to Light to be with her when the war was over?”

Lonogan nodded.

“No…I guessed.”

“Did you mean what you said just now, about Jess being the Queen of Massi?

Gwaynn nodded.

“But how? It’s forbidden for a Traveler to live permanently off of Light or to marry anyone from a royal family.” Bock gave a little shiver at the mention of royalty. Even as a child he had never dreamed that one day he would have the chance to belong to such an exclusive group.

“You’re forgetting something,” Gwaynn said with a large smile on his face. “I’m the High King.”

ǂ

Tar Nacht was in his room, throwing together his personal items and dressing to kill. Word had finally reached the King’s Island of the defeat of the Temple Knights along with vague and disturbing rumors of Prince Gwaynn Massi being crowned High King by the Tars of Noble.

‘It’s over!’ Nacht’s mind screamed as he quickly attached two spring knives, one to each forearm. He adeptly adjusted the tension then threw on an oversized black tunic with long billowing sleeves to hide the weapons. He was far from panic, but he knew time was against him. He gambled and lost everything. He strapped four more knives tightly around his calves, then pulled down the cuffs of his silk black pants and slipped on a pair of low boots. He was careful with all the weapons for his blades were always tipped with poison. If he could, he would take along a great deal of company when he finally went to meet the Black Horseman. The new High King was sure to move against Sinis, after all they had been trying frantically to kill him for more than two years, the young man must be aware of the fact.

Nacht shook his head in disbelief. Sinis had sent a dozen Executioners to Massi plus nearly twice as many highly trained acolytes, and yet the Prince somehow managed to elude the death he so richly deserved.

‘It was uncanny; the work of providence,’ Nacht thought as he placed his kali at his waist.

The door to his room flew open without warning and Queen Audra rushed in.

“You can’t just leave me!” She screamed at the top of her voice causing the Tar of Sinis to flinch slightly.

“I should kill you and be done with it,” he answered softly and glared at her, satisfied that she quickly came to a halt and then actually retreated a few paces. He began to draw his right kali from its sheath. “Save Gwaynn the trouble and perhaps he will forgive me.”

Audra backed away another step and Nacht was pleased to see real fear in her eyes.

“But…but you promised to support me…to back me against all my enemies,” she said and though she was beautiful, even heavy with child as she was, Nacht could hear the pout of a little girl in her voice.

Nacht slammed his kali back in its sheath and turned his back on her, stuffing the one pack he would be taking with him with extra clothes and weapons.

“You promised!” She insisted, her voice growing a bit stronger now that the immediate threat of death seemed to have past. The young Queen watched him with dismay and rising panic. Everyone had abandoned her; Caiman, her father and brother and Captain Hothgaard, who if the rumors were true was now marching with the traitor from Massi…and now Tar Nacht and the Executioners from Sinis. She was alone and her life was in peril. Gwaynn would kill her, she had little doubt that and he would kill precious Aiden and her still unborn child. It was the only way he could secure lasting power for himself and his own children.

“Take us with you,” she blurted, suddenly very willing to throw her rule in the dust if it meant life for herself and her children.

Nacht laughed and turned to her. “You’re serious,” he said, grabbing his broadsword from the corner. “How fast can you waddle your Highness? Not fast enough I’d guess. And you would be so easy to hide, so inconspicuous. I never took you for a fool!”

He looked at her a moment, then began to push past her, just as shouts and warning bells began to sound in the courtyard beyond. Nacht stopped in his tracks, unaware that Audra was now clutching his upper arm tightly. Unconsciously he threw off her grip and sped across the room to the balcony. Audra, despite her condition was right behind him, waddling surprisingly fast.

They reached the stone railing just in time to see an enormous Traveler bridge pop out of existence, but they took no notice of it, both were entranced by the large army of men and horses that had apparently poured from it and into the castle. There were hundreds upon hundreds…most dressed in the uniforms of the Temple Knights or else wore the colors of Massi, but here and there Nacht glimpsed the gray and royal blue of Noble among the hoards of fighters.

‘Such power!’ Nacht thought awed, and strangely curious. Such a large stable bridge would take a number of Travelers…maybe as many as six or seven. It seems more Travelers had survived than was widely known. “The Travelers finally have their revenge,” he stated softly. “Your husband was a dupe.”

Audra made no answer as they watched the defenses of Rosethorn Castle rapidly disintegrate. There was resistance from the men of Sinis, and a smattering from the royal guards of King’s Island. Nacht stared unmoving as he spotted a group of Executioners…fighting well against the mounted Temple Knights but falling quickly when a pair of Tars from Noble took to the fight.

Nacht knew he should attempt to flee, but instead he stood rooted to the spot gazing down as the last of the opposition faltered and finally all was quiet. Moments later the door to his room burst open and a host of men rushed in. Nacht dropped his broadsword and whipped out his kali, and without thought threw himself at the invaders. Behind him Audra bent and picked up the heavy sword but did not draw it out. She simply held it before her, the point resting on the ground as the first men in the room rushed toward Nacht. In the lead were a host of soldiers from Massi and three died for their speed, after that the others held their distance until a small group from Noble pushed through the crowd.

“Nacht,” a Tar of Noble said. “Stand down or die.”

Nacht smiled, knowing he would surely die, fight or not, so he launched himself at the Tar with glee. But the Tar was an exceptional fighter and easily blocked the first flurry of blows the High Tar of Sinis threw at him. The Tar of Noble countered but Nacht was also very good and turned away each blade.

More and more soldiers crowded into the room and at least three were also Tars of Noble, but they all remained near the edges of the fight, watching with tangible expectation. Nacht and Tar Endid, who he was fighting, exchanged several more parries before the High Executioner was able to recognize Prince Gwaynn, now the High King, standing near the door next to a broad, shaggy haired Tar. Nacht knew now was the time, the man he was fighting was good, very good and probably younger than he was by a good dozen years. Another flood of strikes rained down on the High Tar of Sinis but he managed to block them with grace and skill. Nacht sent his right arm swinging across the front of his body until it was aligned with his foe then he quickly launched the spring knife from beneath his sleeve, all while neatly blocking a kali aimed to remove his head from his shoulders. The knife shot from its hiding place incredibly fast and covered the distance between the two fighters in a blink. With a sharp thud the knife buried itself into Tar Endid’s left eye.

Endid cried out and wavered for a moment, then staggered a few steps to his right before dropping hard to the floor. Nacht did not hesitate but raised his left arm and pulled the trigger mechanism on his other spring knife. He aimed carefully, directly at Gwaynn’s heart. The young man was standing not twenty feet away, a ridiculously easy shot. As the knife fired and left his sleeve Nacht knew it was going to hit its mark.

‘The new High King is dead!’ He thought with a rush of pure joy and just a touch of pride. Most of those in the room were watching Tar Endid as he staggered and died, but Nacht had eyes only for Gwaynn, who surprisingly was gazing back directly into Nacht’s eyes as the knife streaked across the room. Astonishingly the young man was smiling, apparently unaware of the threat racing toward him.

The knife flashed through the air covering the distance with incredible speed, but Nacht did not follow the path of the knife, did not take his eyes from Gwaynn. He wanted to see the moment of recognition when the knife slammed home. He wanted to see the moment of death. But instead the Tar who stood at Gwaynn’s side moved faster than was possible, faster than the eye could see. He reached out and actually caught the knife by the hilt, holding it steadily less than a foot from Gwaynn’s chest.

“Tsk, tsk,” the strange Tar said shaking his bushy head and Nacht suddenly realized the man was Nev, the legendary Solitary and former Weapons Master to the High King. The Executioner felt a giddy wave of fear as Gwaynn smiled and extended one hand for the knife. Nev handed it over.

Gwaynn paused for a moment. “For my mother and my sister,” he said softly and with another blur of movement too fast to see he threw. It crossed the room in a blink and hit Nacht just below the left shoulder. The Executioner grunted with surprise and looked down briefly then the world tottered and he fell. He felt a blinding pain as he hit the floor and the knife was pushed farther into his body, but then the poison began to work. He died quickly without a last sound or thought.

ǂ

It was late, past midnight, two days after the fall of King’s Island to the Massi forces. Gwaynn now occupied the throne of the High King. He was truly the recognized leader of the Inland Sea, and everything was quiet. Queen Audra and her son Aiden were now under guard, imprisoned in her rooms, awaiting Gwaynn’s decision whether they would live or die. To Audra it was turning into a very long wait.

But it was a decision Gwaynn had no desire to make though he knew it was necessary. The weight of it kept sleep away and when he grew tired of tossing in the unfamiliar bed he dressed and began walking the halls of the palace. He wandered steadily downward until he was near the ground level and happily met Vio, in her nightdress, starting the climb that would lead her back up to her private room. She carried a very large plate filled with an assortment of meats and cheeses in one hand and had her long cotton nightdress hiked up in the other, so as not to trip. She was looking at the tray of food and would have walked right into Gwaynn had he not cleared his throat sharply. Vio looked up, dropped her nightdress and blushed but then smiled and took a bite of turkey.

“Hungry?” Gwaynn asked, very aware of the girl’s body beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown.

Vio giggled and blushed again, fighting the urge to stroke her hair. She wondered vaguely what she looked like and hoped that she wasn’t too scary.  “Famished,” she answered. “You?”

Gwaynn nodded and took a hunk of sharp cheese from her plate and popped it in his mouth. “I could eat.”

They were standing just outside the great hall and without a thought made their way inside. Of course at this hour the hall was empty and still, and it seemed all the bigger for the absence of people. They walked silently across its length nibbling off the plate as they went and when they reached the two large throne chairs they sat down. Gwaynn threw one leg over an ornately carved mahogany arm before reaching for another slice of cheese. They ate in silence for a moment, Vio very aware that she was sitting in the Queen’s chair. She was unable to stop or control it as her mind played out a quick fantasy where she was the Queen; where she was Gwaynn’s.

“You could stay you know,” Gwaynn said in between bites and Vio’s heart skipped a beat. She looked up at him, hope cruelly swelling in her chest. “I need a Weapons Master,” he finished and Vio rushed to hide her disappointment. She was being foolish; she knew that. She’d seen Gwaynn with Samantha countless times and always his eyes were filled with love. She hated that look, but at the same time longed for it, but she knew, knew deep in her heart, he would never truly be hers.

She didn’t even consider his offer. She knew if she stayed she would be miserable, content on one hand to be close to Gwaynn, but continuously tortured by the denial of her heart’s greatest desire. For her, Gwaynn meant only pain.

“Please don’t ask that of me,” Vio whispered her head down. She was afraid if she looked at Gwaynn the tears she was suddenly fighting would overwhelm her. She was saved from anymore embarrassment when boots clamored at the far end of the hall and moved quickly in their direction. Gwaynn stood as the group crossed into the light and for the first time Vio realized that he was wearing his kali in the middle of the night.

‘Is that what it means to be the High King,’ she thought as a group of guards rushed forward escorting an elderly man she did not know.

“Highness,” the old man said with a low bow. “I’m the Speaker Gan…contact has been requested from Manse.”

Gwaynn blinked and his heart jumped into his throat, but he nodded for the Speaker to continue. He glanced back at Vio, whose dark eyes were huge and appeared almost luminous in the half light of the hall. Her legs were pulled up, the gown stretched tight over her knees, but as he watched she unfurled and walked to his side.

Moments later the hazy form of a Speaker bubble appeared before the old man.

“King Gwaynn,” said a voice they both recognized as Zarina Monde’s.

“I’m…I’m here,” Gwaynn said, his voice cracking. Vio slipped her hand into his and squeezed. Gwaynn squeezed back…hard.

“Gwaynn,” another voice said from the bubble, but it was not Monde’s nor was it Samantha’s, instead it was Knote’s…Doctor Knote’s, but spelled with a “K.”

Gwaynn chuckled nervously but then the import of the situation hit him.

“Samantha!” Gwaynn said and Vio’s mind echoed his thoughts and suddenly wondered what would happen if the High Queen died in childbirth. It was a terrible thought, but for Vio it held its own wonder, but then…

“She’s fine,” Knote said. “She had a rough time but she’s resting now and doing well.”

Gwaynn suddenly began to breathe again. He could not remember being so paralyzed with fear…even long ago on the scaffold, the fear was not so intense, not so debilitating.

“And the baby?” he asked, silently cursing the old woman for not getting on with the news.

“They’re doing fine,” Knote replied and she sounded very pleased.

“They?” Gwaynn said and his legs began to shake.

“Twins!” Monde shouted in excitement. “A boy and a girl…you’re a father Gwaynn!”

Gwaynn squeezed Vio’s hand again and he turned to her and smiled, tears welling in his eyes, then he pulled his hand away and began to weave them about in front of him in a strange hypnotic motion. Vio instantly knew what he was doing and moved close to him, close enough to feel the heat that emanated from his body. He was not leaving without her.  She watched silently, and he worked for a long time before finally the bridge sprang to life with little warning. Vio saw Monde through the bridge smiling happily across the vast distance which separated them. Vio grabbed Gwaynn’s right hand as it stopped its dance and together they stepped through and back into Manse.

“Amazing!” Monde said. “Well done…very well done. Few can cover such a distance.”

Monde turned and snapped her fingers at someone as the two moved deeper in the dark courtyard of the eastern bailey. Monde stepped forward as the bridge collapsed and Gwaynn sagged against Vio, dimly aware of her soft, firm body as he pressed against it.

“I’m hungry again,” he whispered in her ear and when he pulled back she could see the joy in his eyes.

“You’re married, so you probably should take your hand off my breast,” she whispered back and he jerked his hand away as if she were the goddess of flame herself. Vio laughed and Gwaynn soon joined her. Monde quickly approached with a plate of bread, meat and nuts and Gwaynn tore into it as Knote led the way inside the bailey.

Gwaynn ate continuously as they made their way inside, and in the much smaller hall lay Samantha, her hair still slick with sweat. Her eyes were closed and at first Gwaynn could not tell if she was truly alive, but as he neared her eyes opened and she smiled beautifully at him, radiating happiness.

“You missed it,” she said, her voice surprisingly strong and it was then that Gwaynn noticed the two small bundles propped into the crook of her arms. Poking from the blankets were two tiny faces, perfect in form, absolutely perfect.

“I’m sorry,” Gwaynn answered.

Samantha smiled again. “Knote claims they came fast,” she said. “You’ll have to take her word for it. I disagree.”

Gwaynn moved closer and kissed Samantha on the forehead. “How are you?”

“Tired,” she answered.

Then Gwaynn looked down at the nearest baby.

“Avigail,” Samantha said, “after the first High Queen.”

And though he was frightened, something compelled Gwaynn to reach out and lift the tiny bundle of blankets. It was so light he could hardly tell there was a small person inside. He held her out before him awkwardly, looking into her sleeping face. The baby remained perfectly still for a moment but then she wiggled and yawned and stretched her tiny arms above her head before immediately drawing them back in. Gwaynn moved her close to his body, staring at her while Samantha stared at him, and Vio stared enviously at the new mother.

‘This is love,’ Vio thought and felt suddenly dirty for having wanted it to end. ‘Something like this should never end,’ her mind amended then she realized Samantha was now looking at her.

“Would you mind? I can’t sleep with them so close…I keep waking, afraid I’ll roll over on one of them,” Samantha explained and nodded her head at the other baby.

Vio smiled broadly. She moved forward and plucked the sleeping baby from her side.

“Arnot,” Samantha whispered to Gwaynn, already closing her eyes, “after your father,” she added softly, shifting her position, already nearly asleep. Vio moved around the foot of the bed to stand beside Gwaynn. His eyes went from one little bundle to the other until finally Knote ushered them to the far side of the hall.

“I’m going to rest myself,” the doctor whispered. “Just place them in their basinets when you get tired,” she added and with Monde in tow they left, hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep.

Gwaynn pulled a sturdy wooden chair from beneath a nearby table and sat down. Vio did likewise and sat across the table from him, cooing softly and bouncing the baby boy she held in her arms. Her face was lit softly by the small fire that popped and crackled in the nearby fire pit.

“They’re beautiful,” Vio whispered and Gwaynn could only nod, suddenly very sad. She noticed his expression.

“What?” She asked, confused.

“Vio…” he began and then stopped for such a long time she was afraid he would not continue. “Vio, I’m going to have to kill a little one…one like her…and one yet unborn.”

Vio said nothing.

“If I don’t it will bring nothing but danger to my own,” Gwaynn explained. “While Aiden lives he will always be a rallying point for any unsatisfied with my rule, even if he does not grow to become a threat on his own. I toppled his father…took his throne. Peace will not come for my twins while he lives,” Gwaynn finished with almost a sob.

Vio didn’t know what to say; she knew he was right, ghastly as the thought was, especially while holding such an innocent and vulnerable being. It was hard to believe that either could ever be a danger to anyone.

“Perhaps there is another way,” she whispered back at him.

“What way?” He asked, but to that she had no answer.

ǂ

Gwaynn remained in Manse for nearly two weeks trying to avoid the need to return to the King’s Island even though nasty rumors were already reaching him, confirming his fears and reinforcing the dreadful decision he knew he had to make. Tar Kostek reported from Noble that Antioc was demanding the Tars reinstate the Mastoc line. He was Arsinol’s eldest son and the rightful ruler of Deutzani and if they felt Aiden was too young to rule the Inland Sea, well then he, as uncle, would take up the mantel and preside over the land as guardian to the throne until Aiden came of age.

Trouble was beginning already, much sooner than Gwaynn would have predicted and it would have to be resolved. But as the days past, Gwaynn continued to delay his return and might have done so indefinitely had not Tar Nev contacted Monde one morning.

“I’m a patient man,” Nev said, his voice resonating through the Speaker bubble. “I’m ready to leave…but first I’d like to see the twins, that is, if you don’t mind.”

Gwaynn could not help but smile; his former master never was much for people and was undoubtedly anxious to get back to the forests of Noble. Why he didn’t just Travel to Manse to see the twins himself before moving on was something of a puzzle, but Gwaynn had long since given up trying to understand the eccentric Solitary.

“Give us an hour,” Gwaynn responded lightly and grinned at Samantha who was feeding Avigail while Arnot fussed in Vio’s arms. “They’re eating breakfast at the moment.”

“Alright…I’ll wait,” Nev answered begrudgingly. “I’d like to be gone before noon,” he countered and then the bubble disappeared.

Sam smiled. “We need to be going in any case…if we are to go,” she said.

Gwaynn nodded. “We’re going,” he replied and shot a grim look at Vio but said nothing more.

An hour later as promised, Monde opened a bridge and Gwaynn stepped through and back onto the King’s Island, but this time he came with his Queen and heirs. He came to stay. Tar Nev stood in the palace’s courtyard waiting for him and surprisingly alongside was the deposed queen Audra Deutzani, heavy with child, holding the hand of her son Aiden, who fidgeted at her side.

Gwaynn frowned but said nothing. He glanced at the young woman once and could not help but notice her beauty even though he refrained from making eye contact, then he eyed the young boy holding his mother’s hand. Aiden had his mother’s dark hair and features and studied Gwaynn with an open, frank curiosity. The young boy had the curiosity and courage of a child who was confident his mother could keep him from coming to any real harm. Nev watched the play between Gwaynn, Audra and the boy with interest and then chuckled.

“Yes, I thought that might be weighing on your mind,” the old master said simply, addressing Gwaynn, and placed a protective hand on Audra’s small shoulder. “I’ll help ease both of your fears,” Nev continued. “Audra has agreed to come with me.”

Gwaynn’s frown turned to shock as he tried to image the former queen and her brood taking up residence in the small cabin at the foot of Mount Erato. He failed and he did not truly understand how this would help the situation, even though he desperately wanted a reason to avoid the killing of innocents…his sister had been an innocent.

“They’ll still be a threat on Noble,” Samantha said and Audra glared at her with pure malice. Nev laughed again and moved forward. Sam was holding Arnot and clutched him just a little tighter to her bosom as the Tar approached. Suddenly she found she did not trust this enigmatic man quite as readily as her husband did.

But Nev smiled at her and she could see no wickedness in his eyes. He moved very close and looked down at the baby in her hands. He reached out slowly and touched one rough finger to the chin of Arnot before looking back up into Samantha’s eyes.

“We’ll not be going to Noble,” he admitted. “You’re correct my Queen; going to Noble would solve nothing.”

“So where will you go?” Gwaynn asked as Nev walked past him and over to Vio, who held Avigail. Again Nev reached out one finger and stroked the cheek of the sleeping babe.

“Avigail,” he whispered softly, mostly to himself and Gwaynn wondered how he knew her name, but then Nev looked up and into Gwaynn’s eyes.

“Elsewhere,” he answered mysteriously. “We’ll be going elsewhere, and we’ll leave from Northpoint in about an hour.”

Samantha turned her eyes toward Audra, and for the first time recognized the fear and anxiety in the young woman. ‘Elsewhere?’ She thought and actually felt a pang of pity for the former Queen. ‘Where was Elsewhere?’

Northpoint however was well known. It was a small fishing village on the extreme northern end of the island whose inhabitants were a bit taken aback by the arrival of the new High King and his large party of retainers and warriors.

Aside from Gwaynn, Samantha and Vio, the Solitary N’dori, who had just returned from Tar Endid’s funeral on Noble, was also present. She brought with her Tar Kostek and the Tarina’s Nystrom and Grace and surprisingly Jon Baal, Nev’s brother. Captain Gaston, now the leader of the island’s defenses, stood beside his second, Captain Hothgaard. They waited at the head of nearly a hundred mounted Knights. Around two hundred townsfolk also walked out to witness the happenings. Everyone stared expectantly as Nev led the young woman and her son out across a rocky field. The three of them walked about fifty yards away then Nev bent and said something to Audra. He left her and ran back to Gwaynn.

“You’ll have to decide who’s to rule Deutzani…chose well and you will have peace for a very long time. I’d steer clear of Antioc,” Nev advised and then surprisingly moved forward and lifted Gwaynn in a huge hug. “Take care of him Jon,” he added, “and yourself.” The two brothers embraced before Nev hurried back to Audra.

He clasped her hand and they turned their backs on the group and faced the empty field. For a long time nothing appeared to be happening. Nev gave no indication he was doing anything. He made no hand gestures, uttered no spoken words; he did nothing at all, just stood motionless, his back to the crowd. Murmurs of impatience rippled through the crowd of commoners from Northpoint, and for a brief moment there were even those in the main group who began to question whether anything was actually going to happen, but not Gwaynn and not N’dori.

Their convictions were finally confirmed when the sharp smell of ozone filled the air. Like a nearby lightning strike, the odor suddenly permeated the area as the atmosphere around them became charged with some unknown power.

“Look at your hair,” Samantha said to Vio, unaware that stray strands of her own hair were also beginning to rise up into the sky. She glanced down at Arnot and his soft, black baby hair was standing completely on end. She tried to smooth it with the scarred, rounded tip of her bad arm, but it refused to cooperate and instantly popped back up.

“What’s happening?” she asked Gwaynn, whose hair was also lifting toward the heavens. Gwaynn shook his head, his own eyes never leaving Nev.

“I’m not sure,” he answered and began to move forward.

“Gwaynn…” Samantha said suddenly worried.

He turned back to her with a reassuring smile before continuing to move farther out into the field. She was about to call again when abruptly a massive bridge opened before them all, filling the sky, higher than the tallest trees and nearly two hundred feet wide. Almost immediately on opening, a great rush of wind hit the watching group, driving most back a few feet and even knocking some to the ground.

Samantha screamed and went down, clutching Arnot as tightly as she could with her good hand. Vio soon dropped next to her and struggled to move closer to Samantha. Avigail was crying loudly but the sound was lost against the raging dry tempest.

“Sam…” came a faint cry and she looked up to see Gwaynn gazing back with concern, but despite the noise and the strong wind she found she was alright…the babies were alright. And then Kostek, Gaston and N’dori crawled in front of her and huddled close in order to block the worst of the storm.

Gwaynn saw Kostek and the others go to Samantha’s aid so he turned back around, curious about the bridge Tar Nev created. Gwaynn felt the power building and building until it was almost tangible, until he could nearly taste it on his tongue. Where the bridge might be going he had no idea, but he knew, wherever it ended, it was far, far away.

Gwaynn looked at Nev and was surprised to see that the man was still standing, as was Audra and even young Aiden. In fact, they stood in the middle of the field as if they were completely unaffected by the wind. It took a moment for Gwaynn to realize that indeed the wind was not buffeting the trio, Audra’s hair though long, remained unruffled. He was completely mystified but then the bridge solidified, bringing the world beyond into sharp focus.

The first thing Gwaynn noticed was the buildings, tall and massive and nearly every inch of them filled with windows. Dozens of them, tall as mountains, but square, surprisingly narrow and teaming with power and beyond them he saw a large silvery arch gleaming in the bright sunlight. Then Gwaynn noticed people on the other side, a couple, a man and a woman. They were caught in the very windstorm that gripped him. The storm appeared to be much stronger on the far side and the two were trying desperately to keep from being sucked through the bridge. The man was holding a small silver pole of sorts. It was straight and apparently not affected in the slightest by the wind. It did not bend under the storm or the man’s weight, but stood stiff and sure. Whatever it was, it must be very strong. The man was struggling mightily but appeared to be strong enough to fight off the wind. The woman, however, was gripping a much larger silver pole. It was tall, like a tree, but Gwaynn was sure it was not a tree. It was large, with a wide trunk but it had no branches. On the very top Gwaynn saw what appeared to be a glass bulb. The woman was having a much harder time fighting the wind. Her legs, which were mostly bare, were being pulled upward so she hung parallel to the ground, her body held aloft by the stiff gale.

But Gwaynn’s attention left the woman and was drawn back to the architecture of the city beyond, he could tell the arch in the distance was tall, but he did not truly grasp the scale of the structure until he caught sight of a number of men and women moving about near its base. They were tiny, miniature people…the arch was enormous and something about it was familiar, but in his shock, recognition would not come. Instead his eyes caught more movement as a host of colored wagons raced along a black brick-lined road at incredible speeds, moving at least as fast as a good horse though nothing at all seemed to be pulling them…but these strange things Gwaynn knew. They were called cars…they were automobiles. He learned of them from Elise during his time on Lato…this was Earth…Old Earth. This was not possible. No one since Galen Dawkins had been able to open a bridge between worlds…no one until now.

Gwaynn remained hunched on his knees and watched open mouthed as Audra looked back, her face full of fear and excitement. He saw her turn back at Nev’s urging and without another glance back they moved forward and into the very heart of the bridge.

As they entered, the wind suddenly increased in ferocity, slamming into Gwaynn and forcing him back a few feet even though he was on his knees and braced against it. His eyes watered when he tried to look into the teeth of the storm. He blinked furiously and managed to catch sight of a figure hurtling through the air toward him. The woman had lost her battle and was flying into this land. She hit the ground hard perhaps ten feet in front of him and just to his left; she rolled and tumbled, relentlessly pushed by the fierce windstorm. She was young, he could tell, and as she flew close Gwaynn reached out and caught a hold of her naked thigh. She came to an abrupt halt and reached out, clutching at Gwaynn’s arm, pulling close to him, her eyes darting about in terror.

“I’ve got you,” Gwaynn said loudly against the din, and for the first time he noticed a pair of strange red birds on the front of her tunic. The young woman appeared not to understand what he was saying, but she held to him as if he were the only thing keeping her from blowing out to space.

Then, without warning Nev and Audra stepped completely through and were gone. The bridge snapped closed with a thunderous boom and the wind quickly stilled to nothing. The silence seemed strange and alien at first as everything rapidly returned to normal. Silence…calm, and then the strange woman clutching at Gwaynn began to scream.

The End

Content

Parker Richard D. Elsewhere