“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.
Elsewhere ti-3 Page 26
