Elsewhere ti-3

by Richard D. Parker

  “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.