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.
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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.�
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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.”
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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 unco
nsciousness just as the first Massi guard reached her.
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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.
Elsewhere ti-3 Page 8
