Elsewhere ti-3

by Richard D. Parker

  “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.