The Black Horseman

by Richard D. Parker

  “Vio,” he said, interrupting her. She looked up at him surprised, but happy he was finally talking. “Could you help me back down? I’m tired.”

  “Yes, yes,” she answered, content to help in any way. She removed most of the pillows and placed one leg on the bed to get better leverage as she held Gwaynn’s shoulders and lowered him gently down.

  “Thank you,” Gwaynn said only semi-conscious of her touch. He was surprised to find that he could barely keep his eyes open. He saw her smile but was asleep again before she left the room.

  The next day nearly all of Gwaynn’s strength had returned. Food, water, and a bed to rest in did wonders for exhaustion, plus he was young and his body was strong. Although he spent the day entirely in bed on Pugg’s orders, by evening he was anxious to rise and have a look about. He knew he was strong enough. He felt fine, but the doctor insisted that another day of rest would be a benefit and Gwaynn was too grateful to argue with him. Vio had not come to visit and Gwaynn was surprised to find that he was thinking of her despite all the more important thoughts that should have occupied his mind.

  Just before sundown the doctor knocked and entered with a tray of food and slightly chilled water. Gwaynn sat up quickly, as the door opened and could not keep the disappointment off his face at the arrival of the doctor. Pugg noticed and smiled.

  “Vio is off training on the north end of the island. She’ll not return for several days.”

  Gwaynn shrugged. “I’m feeling much better,” he said and set the tray aside and moved to the edge of the bed. At first he thought the doctor might try to stop him, but the man said nothing, just watched, as Gwaynn, his legs still red from the sun, pushed off and stood in his nightshirt. It was truly no effort and as he walked around the feel for his balance returned almost instantly. His legs felt strong. He felt normal again.

  “Good,” Pugg said watching closely. “I would say by tomorrow you should be well enough to leave the infirmary.”

  Gwaynn frowned and moved back to the bed. He pulled his linen blanket back over him and gathered the tray close and began to eat.

  “Where will I go?” he asked worried again. The world, once a place of beauty and wonder, was now filled with enemies.

  This time Pugg shrugged. “Well, that will be up to you, and perhaps Tar Amon.”

  Master Amon. Gwaynn had heard of him. He was the High Tar of the Island and a legendary swordsman. Even the High King did not cross the High Tar of Noble Island.

  Gwaynn ate silently wondering what he should do; where he should go, and what his fate would be. He had no worries about Amon betraying him to his enemies. All of the Temple Islands were neutral, even the High King rarely chose sides in a dispute, and then only in an effort to end the conflict. It had been nearly three generations since the Temple Knights took to the field in battle, unless what Karl had told him was true, that the Knights had aided the Deutzani and fought against his people and family. The Knights were a deadly force, and not one of the families wanted them to be unleashed. Gwaynn could scarce believe that his father would have done something so foolish as to antagonize the King and his Knights. The legendary Knights were too well trained, an unstoppable force against which no one wanted to be pitted. Even the threat of such deployment had been enough to stop many wars in the past. It was only a fool who would go against the High King and his Knights. His father was no fool. Then the thought finally hit him. Why did the High King allow the Deutzani to attack and occupy Massi lands and kill the Massi royal family? To these questions, Gwaynn had no answers, and now he did not have anyone he could even ask. His mind went round and round as he ate, but he found no solutions, and of the doctor he asked no questions.

  Pugg waited until the boy had finished his meal, surprised at the quiet reserve he found in him. It was something rare in one so young. But then he already knew that this was no ordinary boy. He was uncommonly quiet and circumspect even for someone who had survived a shipwreck and lost friends. He spoke very little of himself and changed the subject at the first possible moment when he himself was the topic of conversation. That he was of gentle blood was no longer in question. His speech and manners clearly gave that away, and though the boy let very little pertinent information slip about his true identity, Pugg was beginning to suspect he knew. He would talk to Tar Amon tonight about his suspicions. If he was correct, such news would bring about a firestorm. What the Tar would do about it however, was anyone’s guess.

  ǂ

  Afton Sath moved quietly in the night, now very near to his goal. He had spent the last couple of days deftly avoiding not only Zani patrols but also any local folk who might inadvertently report his travels. He patiently waited on the edge of the Fultan estate watching the main house closely. The Fultan’s had a very successful ale business and were relatively wealthy because of it, though from the modest size of the estate their wealth was not overly apparent. Beth Fultan, had died four years back in childbirth, and never believed in flaunting their wealth. She was generous to those who were in need, and Thomas, her husband also embraced such sentiments. It made them both very popular with the local community. Normally the estate bustled, going about the business of creating the country’s best ale, but today the estate was unusually quiet throughout the afternoon and early evening. Sath spotted only a minimal number of employed workers on site and most of them had left early in the day. From his previous visits, he knew that the Fultan’s also kept a minimal house staff, which if he remembered correctly consisted of one cook, a maid and her young daughter, plus Wellman, an old houseman who had been with Beth’s family for decades. The rest of the family consisted of Samantha, Thomas’ eldest at sixteen, perhaps seventeen, Arabelle, who Sath thought was about eleven, and the baby, a four year old named Karly, but everyone called her Beth after her mother who had died giving her life.

  On occasions throughout the afternoon Sath caught sight of the two younger girls, but had seen nothing of Thomas or Samantha. Once the sun was completely down, but before it was utterly dark, he hopped the wooden rail fence and moved carefully toward the main house. He eased his way toward the back, covering his approach with the barn, and then a small tool shed that sat adjacent to the southeastern corner of the house. Carefully, quietly, he made his way past the shed and along the back wall of the main house and had nearly reached the door when Wellman opened it and stepped out into the night.

  Sath maneuvered silently behind him. “Wellman,” he whispered, but the old man apparently did not hear because he did not react at all.

  “Wellman,” Sath said louder, and the old man quickly stood straighter and looked about.

  “Who?”

  “It’s me. Afton Sath.”

  Wellman smiled and stepped closer. “So it is,” he said and nodded.

  “Is it safe here….now?” Sath asked and Wellman frowned.

  “There are no Zani here, if that’s what you mean,” Wellman answered then without a word headed back to the house. “Patrols have come and gone, searched a bit, but left us well enough alone so far. They moved on farther to the south, but did help themselves to our reserves of ale.”

  “That’s good,” Sath answered, perhaps a well ranking Deutzani knew of the ale brewed by Thomas Fultan, if so, it might keep him and his family safe.

  “Come in, come in. Master Thomas will want to see you,” Wellman added holding the door open for Sath, who stepped inside. He entered the kitchen area, which was large and at the moment unused, though there was a bright fire burning in the large pit on the northern wall. “Sit,” the old man added, motioning to the sturdy wooded table and chairs across from the fire. “I will fetch Master Thomas.”

  Sath sat, relishing the warmth of the kitchen, and just the fact of being indoors after nearly three full days in the elements. He didn’t have long to wait before a squeal sounded in the hall and bounding around a corner came Beth, running as fast as she could. She was followed closely by Samantha. The little one took no notice of Afton’s presence and continue
d her run, glancing back to see if her older sister was still following. Sam, however, had come up short when she spotted the stranger sitting at the table. It took her several moments before she recognized the haggard looking man before her.

  “Uncle?” she asked as if trying to convince herself. Sath smiled.

  “Samantha, you are growing into a truly lovely young woman,” he said, meaning it. She was tall, with a thin willowy frame. Her nose was maybe a bit too wide and her mouth a bit too large, but she had a full head of long, thick russet brown hair. It was her shining feature and framed the flawless white skin of her face perfectly. But what truly caught his attention were her bright, almost luminous, green eyes, which now sparkled with friendliness. Sath immediately worried that such beauty was not an asset in a conquered country and he feared that Samantha would grow to rue her looks before all was put right once more.

  “Uncle!” Beth yelled finally spotting the old man sitting in the kitchen. She had stopped running immediately after discovering she was no longer being chased. She approached her Uncle confidently as Samantha moved forward and hugged Sath.

  “You escaped,” Samantha stated in disbelief. “We heard that Solarii had fallen, that the King and all…that everyone close to the royal family had been killed.”

  “Uncle,” Beth repeated and grabbed hold of Sath dirty sleeve. She tugged at it incessantly not willing to be ignored. Sath looked down at her and grinned.

  “Well hello little Beth,” he said wanting to pick her up, but unable to trust his strength just yet. He had gone several days without food now and he was no longer young. He satisfied himself by sitting down again and pulling her into a loose embrace.

  Beth endured the hug, then stepped back wrinkling her nose at his smell. “Would you like some sugared biscuits?” she asked.

  “Beth!” Samantha said loudly.

  “I would, I would,” Sath answered at the same moment, smiling.

  “Me too, but we don’t have any,” Beth answered holding her hands up, showing him they were empty.

  Sath sat silent, stunned for a long moment, then broke into a chuckle.

  “It is a new trick of hers,” a voice said from the door, and Sath looked up to see Thomas standing there. Their eyes met, sharing their danger and worry.

  “Sam, take Beth to bed and send Murl in here. We have a guest who is hungry.”

  Samantha, though she wanted to stay more than anything at the moment, scooped up her sister and left the room without a word.

  “I thought Sam was Elizabeth at first,” Sath said when she’d gone.

  Thomas frowned, a look of pride and hurt mixed together on his face. “At times I become confused myself,” he answered and then his frown deepened. “You can not stay,” he added, and sat next to Sath. He reached out and took Sath’s left hand in his, to try to soften his words.

  “I know,” Sath answered. “I’m only planning on a few days and then I will head for Koshka.”

  “Koshka?”

  Sath nodded. “It is close enough to the mountains for escape if need be, and far enough from the Scar Ridge that it is not likely to get much notice from the Zani. If you are to send any of our passing soldiers to find me, send them there.”

  Thomas nodded then gave a forced smile. “I’m glad you came. Tell me everything,” Thomas said as Murl, the best cook in three counties entered, and greeted the former Weapons Master of Massi.

  IV

  Gwaynn was dressing in clothes given to him by the doctor when the High Tar of Noble Island entered the room.

  “Ah, you are awake already. That is good. I am Amon. I would like to walk with you,” he said standing before Gwaynn, who studied him silently. The High Tar was old, but not ancient. He had long silvery hair, tied behind him in a single tail, as was the style of the Tars. He was not overly tall, but neither was he short. His skin was deeply tanned and had some wrinkles, but there was evidence of muscle beneath the skin, though he looked neither quick nor strong. His bright crystal blue eyes were the only feature even remarkable about him; otherwise he looked like any number of men past their prime and heading quickly toward old age.

  Gwaynn said nothing, suddenly nervous, but the High Tar waited patiently for him to finish dressing.

  “You are feeling better?” Amon asked as he led the way of out of the room. Gwaynn looked about curiously. He arrived at the infirmary unconscious and had not left the room since his arrival. He was surprised to find that the door to his room opened into a much larger one, containing a great number of beds, two of which were currently occupied by young men, both of whom stared at Gwaynn with curiosity. Amon paid them no mind and silently led Gwaynn across the room and out a set of double doors.

  They stepped outside and into the beginning of a bright and beautiful day. Gwaynn blinked at the sunshine, not accustomed to its’ intensity after nearly a week indoors. Amon led him down a manicured path of small pebbles, and silently let the boy study his current surroundings. There were numerous buildings in the immediate area, most in the opposite direction from which they were heading. All of them were made of stone, and newly white washed. Most were smaller than the infirmary, but one was much grander. It was on the far side of the courtyard, and was several stories tall. Four mighty columns supported the portico, and carved into the eave, near the top were several statues of what Gwaynn took to be past Masters.

  Amon, however, was leading him away from the courtyard. They headed down a steep incline toward the beach and the sea beyond. Now, without the chasing Zani, or the threatening storm, the Inland Sea was beautiful beyond words. The water was calm; a clear blue-green with small waves gently breaking on the white sands below. The sea seemed so tranquil that Gwaynn found it hard to believe that just a week ago, this same sea was trying desperately to kill him.

  “You are feeling better?” Amon asked once more when they reached the sand. They walked toward the water and then turned south.

  Gwaynn suddenly realized that the High Tar had already asked him this question once, and that he had not answered. He felt his face grow hot.

  “Yes…yes I’m feeling much better. Thank you,” Gwaynn answered.

  “I am glad,” Amon replied. They walked a good distance in silence, Gwaynn just waiting for the Tar to speak once more. Amon smiled after a bit. Pugg was correct. The boy was very reserved.

  “You have been with us over a week now,” Amon began, and Gwaynn became suddenly alert. “But you are healing rapidly. It will soon be time for you to go.”

  Again Gwaynn said nothing. His mind was buzzing with the possibilities of where he would go, what he would do. He had no idea what would become of him. He was sure that if he left the Temple Islands the Zani would hunt him down, and eventually find him. He had to make sure that did not happen until he was ready to be found.

  “I can not stay then?” Gwaynn asked.

  “Stay?” Amon asked.

  “Yes,” Gwaynn replied.

  Tar Amon shook his head. “In order to attend the Island you must have been invited and your presence approved by the High King.”

  Gwaynn was silent for a time while they walked along the water line, weaving slightly so that they came higher up the beach when a wave threatened to soak their feet. “Perhaps I can serve, help with the livestock, maintenance, anything?”

  “Our support personnel are actually part of families that have been on the Island for countless generations,” Amon began. “It would be highly irregular to admit someone from the outside, highly irregular indeed.”

  “An exception could be made though?” Gwaynn asked hopefully.

  “There are always exceptions,” Amon answered with a smile. “But for what reason? Would it be made just to save a fisherman’s son from the drudgery of his former life?”

  Gwaynn said nothing.

  “You have not told us anything about who you are,” Amon observed. “Should an exception be made for an unknown?”

  Gwaynn thought about this for such a long time that Amon be
gan to believe that the boy would indeed stay silent.

  “It may be dangerous for you to know who I am,” Gwaynn finally answered, impressing the High Tar. ‘Indeed it could be dangerous,’ Amon thoughtfully agreed.

  “It is a very dangerous time,” the Tar replied as they continued down the beach. “And there is risk for us in either case is there not?”

  Gwaynn still admitted nothing; in his mind admitting who he was increased his own danger many times over.

  “Prince Gwaynn was said to have escaped the Deutzani attack on the Massi,” Tar Amon stated in an even tone. “King Arsinol Deutzani was said to be livid, even killing several of those in charge of the offensive.”

  Gwaynn’s head jerked up and looked at the High Master of the Island. Amon held his hands up, palms out, hoping to calm the boy. “Who was killed?” Gwaynn asked and actually took a menacing step toward the Tar, who was not intimidated.

  Amon shrugged at the question. “A few lieutenants, but no one of any real importance. King Arsinol cannot afford to give anyone of real value up at this time.”

  “Why? Will the High King intervene once more?” Gwaynn said his voice rising in anger.

  Amon frowned. Could it be possible that the boy was aware of the High King’s rash decision? If so the boy may indeed have to die, otherwise chaos could be charging down on them all. As he silently studied the determined young man, Amon realized that the boy’s death would not come at his hands, or any Master under him. “What do you mean by that remark?”

  “The Zani could not have defeated my father so easily without the help of the High King and his Temple Knights,” Gwaynn stated his voice low and calm.

  “So you admit to being Prince Gwaynn Massi.”

  Gwaynn sighed and nodded. The High Tar knew in any case. “The High King aided the Zani,” he accused once more.