The Black Horseman

by Richard D. Parker

  They rode in silence for nearly a mile before Samantha glanced over at her new companion. “Are you apart of all this…with Uncle Sath?” She asked then felt foolish for asking so obvious a question.

  Tomm puffed up and nodded, then reached behind him and into his saddlebag. He pulled out an apple, and tossed it carefully to Sam, who was gratified that she snatched it out of the air quite nicely. He pulled out another and took a bite. “I’m the contact for Dunn and the surrounding area. I’m too old to be a soldier, but Lonney may go off and join in the next year or so.”

  They ate their apples in relative silence, and just rode at a steady pace, which allowed them to cover a good distance. For the first time since the death of her family, Samantha began to feel a little hope and a growing confidence that she might escape with her life. Although her new found confidence would have melted away if she knew how quickly the man following her was gaining.

  ǂ

  Navarra reached the Fultan’s estate just before Samantha reached the falls. He paused at the house only for a short time to collect his axe. He moved the block into the barn for it would slow him down and in any case the Fultan girl would not get such a ritualized execution. The dogs sniffed about the bodies of the Fultan family as he worked, but he called them away as he finished, then he moved down the lane, following the girl’s tracks as he went. He was thankful that it had not rained very hard last night or tracking her would be much harder. Once he was off the lane and onto the field he dismounted and showed the tracks to the dogs, and they took up the business of tracking. They followed her easily, and he was shocked when about an hour later he came across her first campsite, less than six miles away. He shook his head, smiling at the girl’s recklessness. If he’d known she was so close and moving at such a slow pace he would have returned immediately from Millvale and started out on his own. Even with that damned sway back, he would have caught up with her by now.

  ‘No matter,’ he thought as he left the campsite and continued on, he would have her within the next couple of days. He rode on throughout the afternoon and it didn’t take him long to realize that she had picked up the pace the following day, but he still believed he was gaining on her rapidly. He followed her tracks along the river, not stopping for food and only once for water. The dogs drank also, but they were eager to continue after their prey.

  About an hour before sundown, the dogs, which normally ranged far ahead of him, trotted back and began to move alongside. Navarra smiled. It was their signal that something or someone was up ahead. They were well trained to wait for his command before initiating any contact, but when he gave that command they were relentless. He pulled Chaos into a walk, moving as quietly as possible, and it wasn’t long before he heard voices up ahead. They were close, maybe a few hundred paces ahead. He dismounted and tied Chaos to a tree near the river then crept forward slowly and almost immediately realized that all the voices he heard were male. It was unlikely that the Fultan girl was present, but perhaps those up ahead would know of her passing. He moved carefully off the path and into the nearby woods. Vesania and Furia slunk low at his side, their breathing coming easily despite they’re growing excitement. It took nearly five minutes of silent maneuvering before he could actually see that it was a group of five men sitting around a small fire a few paces off the path. There was no sentry and they were all talking animatedly. Navarra watched them for several moments and was about to step out, when one of them said “Afton Sath.”

  He quickly crouched back down and reassessed the men before him. One was wearing a short sword about his waist, but most of the others just carried knives. Although the local Massi were still allowed to carry knives and bows, swords and kali, weapons specifically designed to kill other men, were forbidden. It was a law the Deutzani strictly enforced, though it would take many years before most of the weapons were rounded up. Navarra spotted a bow leaning against an oak not far from the man sitting to the right of the fire. With only a look to Furia, he sent the dog off to the right, with the complete confidence that he would attack the man with the bow before any of the others. Navarra gave the dog nearly a minute to move into position, then suddenly stood up and walked into the clearing. Vesania went with him. He was able to move about five feet out of his hiding place before one of the men spotted him. They stood as one.

  “Good evening,” Navarra said softly, barely loud enough to be heard. The men said nothing and just looked back and forth between him and the dog at his side.

  “You were saying something about Afton Sath, I believe,” Navarra continued, still moving forward. Instantly the short sword was out, along with three knives. The man by the bow lunged for it, but before he even got close Furia bolted from the bushes and leaped for his throat. The man instantly went down, his screams mingling with the growls and snapping of the attacking dog. For a split second, the attention of the men facing Navarra was drawn to the commotion in their rear, and neither the Executioner, nor Vesania missed their opportunity. The dog attacked the man nearest her, while Navarra drew his kali and went after the one with the sword. The man was better than expected and blocked his first attack, but as Navarra glided by he lashed out at a man wielding a knife. The man went down with a slit, like a new smile, in his neck. Vesania furiously attacked one of the other knife wielding men, dragging him down by one bloody arm. The last man backed away a few paces before moving forward in an attempt to help his screaming friend. This left the man with the sword facing the Executioner alone.

  A moment later the man had lost his sword and most of his right arm. He screamed and went to the ground allowing Navarra to move off to the other men engaged with the dogs. Soon, with very little effort the two occupied with Vesania were also dead, while Furia was trying her best to rip the throat from the man who had made for the bow. The man was using all his strength to hold off the snarling dog, his hands and arms bloody from numerous scratches and bites.

  Navarra whistled and immediately Furia pulled back, leaving the man groaning and bleeding into the leaves on the ground.

  Navarra knelt down next to the owner of the sword. His right inner forearm sported a large gash from elbow to wrist and was bleeding freely. The man was cradling it next to his body. He looked into Navarra’s face hoping to find compassion, but seeing none.

  “Your name?” Navarra asked quietly. He was a young man, barely able to grow a beard, but his shoulders were broad and strong.

  “P…Pater,” the man stammered.

  “Pater,” Navarra said sweet and smooth. “I need to know where Afton Sath is.”

  The man hesitated, looking from Navarra, then to the fierce looking dogs at his side.

  “Pater,” Navarra repeated and when he still did not say anything, the Executioner gave the slightest nod of his head and at once both dogs leaped, not at Pater, but at the man still down and groaning by the bow. Navarra allowed Pater to turn just a bit and watch as the dogs tore into his friend. Vesania caught his arm and the man screamed loudly, before Furia managed to get to his throat. She tore into him, and with a wet ripping sound, pulled most of the skin and veins loose. The screaming stopped abruptly, but the man still kicked spasmodically while the dogs began to feed.

  “Pater,” Navarra repeated softly, but still the young man jumped. “You know what I want.”

  Pater swallowed, finding it hard to take his eyes from the grizzly scene before him. Navarra reached up and placed a hand on his chin and slowly moved his face so the man’s eyes met his.

  “Pater, where is Afton Sath?”

  “He…he,” Pater stammered still distracted by the sounds coming from behind him. Pater stopped talking for a moment.

  “I will let them have you next Pater.”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Pater answered and Navarra clucked his tongue.

  “He’s in the mountains somewhere around Koshka,” Pater said hurriedly. Navarra smiled at the confirmation. At least Thomas Fultan had not lied to him.

  “And just what is he doin
g in the mountains around Koshka?” Navarra asked and Pater looked at him for a moment as if he couldn’t believe the question.

  “Raising an army,” Pater answered.

  “And have you perhaps seen a girl pass by this way?”

  “A…a girl?”

  Navarra smiled again, knowing immediately this man had not crossed paths with Samantha Fultan. He reached out and grabbed Pater’s left arm. He held it in place with a strong grip, as he slowly sliced through the man’s neck. Navarra reveled as Pater’s shock quickly turned to fear and panic. Navarra continued to watch, a smile never leaving his face.

  “Thank you Pater,” Navarra crooned and stood, completely oblivious to the thrashing and kicking of the dying young man. He went and collected Chaos and rode back up along the path. He whistled and at once Vesania and Furia stopped feeding and trotted over to their master, blood and gore still clinging to their jaws.

  ǂ

  Gwaynn grabbed his bags and prepared to board the Carol-Anne, waiting patiently for it to be pulled close to the docks. Jon, as always, supervised the entire process. Krys waited expectantly on Gwaynn’s right and on his left stood Vio, Tar Nev, and finally Tar Kostek. Tar Amon was away at the moment on the Isle of Light.

  Gwaynn could feel Vio’s disappointment as if it was a physical thing, or perhaps it was his own disappointment he was feeling, not only for having to leave behind friends but also his teachers. Tar Nev had told him two days prior that he would not be going and would return to his isolation. Gwaynn was surprised, somehow he always envisioned Nev being with him, teaching him, but Nev was adamant that there was little more left to teach, and what there was, Gwaynn could learn on his own.

  “I’ve been out in the world too long as it is,” Nev had said. “It’s distracting me from my thoughts.”

  Gwaynn did not acknowledge the statement; he just sat silently with his former teacher.

  “If you ever truly need me, however, I believe there is a Speaker in Cape. Send word and I will come.” Nev added and smiled.

  As soon as the ship was within range the plank was fitted into place, Gwaynn stepped forward, but then stopped and turned to face three of the most important people in his life. All three stared back, two with obvious pride and the smallest with a hint of sadness.

  “Take care,” Vio said stepping forward. She kissed him on the cheek, not wanting to do anything else in front of her Tar. “Stay alive,” she added, as he buried his face into the crook of her neck for a moment but then reluctantly withdrew.

  “I’ll come back for your Tarina ceremonies,” he answered.

  “Be careful,” Kostek and Nev said as one. He shook both their hands.

  “Remember you are not invincible,” Nev warned with a worried look. “Recklessness will be your worst enemy. Underestimate no one.”

  Gwaynn nodded, and then turned and made his way aboard, Krys by his side.

  “I still have trouble believing I’m going home,” Krys commented as they stood by the rail and watched Jon Baal’s crew unload a few crates of goods, while loading still others. It did not take long for it was not a planned trading stop.

  “I’m not sure it will feel like home to me,” Gwaynn answered. He was having reoccurring reservations about returning to Massi. He had strong doubts that he would have even left Lato had it not been for the consistent attacks aimed at him while he was on the islands.

  When all the goods had been transferred, Jon came by. “All ready Master Gwaynn?” he asked, his face showing just a touch of the constant smile that resided there.

  “We’re ready,” Gwaynn answered, then realized now there would be no going back.

  Jon gave the order and the gangplank was pulled aboard and stowed, and the ship was nudged away from the dock until it floated far enough away for oars to begin the work of moving the Carol-Anne. Gwaynn and Krys continued to watch their friends and teachers slowly recede as they put more and more distance from them and Noble Island. Gwaynn stood by the rail until at last he saw Vio and the others turn away and begin walking from the pier.

  Gwaynn immediately turned to Jon. “Jon, I would like you to take us to Heron,” he said.

  Jon looked at him surprised and Krys joined him, though Gwaynn’s new Weapons Master said nothing. “Not Cape?” Jon asked.

  Gwaynn shook his head negatively.

  “Heron has a much stronger Deutzani presence,” Jon warned.

  “Yes, but they will not be looking for me,” Gwaynn explained. “And if, by chance word has gotten out from Noble of my destination, as it has in the past, then I will be landing in a far different location.”

  Jon nodded. “Clever boy,” he said with a smile. “But you will still need a bit of work fitting in with the local crowd. I’m sure we can round up some old sea clothes that would be a bit less conspicuous than the outfits you have on.”

  Both young men were wearing the gray trousers and capes, which were trimmed in the royal blue of Noble Island, along with long white cotton shirts that were cinched at the waist with a strong leather belt that, in turn, held their kali.

  “And you will be needing to hide those,” Jon said, nodding toward the weapons. “They are strictly forbidden for any but the Deutzani in Massi. I will get you to Heron; you see that you live through the landing.”

  Gwaynn took a deep breath and nodded back to Jon, grateful for the information and advice. They both watched as the big man moved down the ship. He walked about with grace despite the rolling of the deck, the seas higher than normal, and headed to the stern where he would guide the Carol-Anne toward its new destination.

  Gwaynn led Krys to their small cabin, which was located below deck, in order to stow their belongings. Toward the middle of the second deck there was another ladder which led to the mid-oars and eventually down to the lower oars. Gwaynn led him to the rear holds, however, near where the Captain and officers slept. Their cabin was larger than Krys expected, but was still cramped and both had to stoop so as not to bang their heads on the low ceiling.

  “Heron will be well watched,” Krys said, though he was not overly worried about arriving at the port. “But we shouldn’t have much trouble, though you’ve added a few miles to our trip overland,” he added and placed his bag in a corner.

  Gwaynn nodded. “You’ve warned Paulo of my arrival?”

  During the break between sessions, Krys had returned to Massi as ordered. He had stayed with Paulo and Karla for a few days before moving on to his own home. In all he’d only stayed in Massi for two weeks before returning to Noble. “Yes, but I’m not sure he will be expecting you so soon. He may not have heard word from Master Sath yet.”

  Gwaynn shrugged, and dropped his own bag next to Krys’. He moved his feet wider apart as the ship rolled. The rolling seemed to be getting more severe. “That can’t be helped,” he answered. “Once we’ve gathered horses and supplies we’ll move to the south and try to contact him.”

  Krys rubbed his hands through his sandy blonde hair, and took a couple of steps back as the ship rocked again. They frowned at each other, then as one, moved to the door and up onto the deck. There were gray, fast moving clouds overhead, which steadily grew darker toward the southwest. They moved carefully to the wheel, both navigating the pitching deck with all the grace of men used to firm land beneath their feet.

  Jon smiled as he watched them struggle against the ever changing angle of the ship.

  “Squalls coming,” he said matter-of-factly as the reached him. Both put a hand on the rail to steady themselves.

  “Bad?” Krys asked, as Gwaynn turned a fearful eye on the approaching clouds.

  Jon shrugged. “Don’t believe so,” he answered. “The Carol-Anne has yet to let me down. Don’t worry lads she’s a steady lass…wide hips she has.” He laughed, as did several of the nearby sailors.

  “Nothing like wide hips to hold ya firm, eh Captain?” One of the sailors said. “You boys will learn that soon enough.”

  Gwaynn turned to him, his face very serio
us. “Boys?” he asked, his right hand going to the hilt of his kali.

  The sailor’s face blanched. He knew about Tar Nev and heard stories of his only pupil. “No offence, young Master,” he quickly added.

  Gwaynn broke into a grin, and Jon erupted with laughter.

  “You won’t offend me if you get me through this storm,” Gwaynn answered, still smiling at the man. “Let’s ride her wide hips, and then perhaps you will call me a man.”

  ǂ

  It took a day and a half to reach Lynndon, and though Tomm had done nothing to warrant her suspicion, Sam made it a point to sleep on the far side of the small fire they built the first night. She vaguely wondered if she would ever trust any man again. If Tomm noticed anything strange about her behavior he did not let on and for that, at least, she was grateful. They came into the town by the northeast, and almost immediately stopped at the blacksmith near the very edge of town. The Scar, which separated the Massi plains from the plateau, loomed above the town. Samantha gazed at the massive cliff face, her eyes tracking first east then west. The rock face went on for as far as the eye could see in either direction and was starkly beautiful, dominated by various shades of red, orange and brown. It was a daunting natural barrier.

  “You ever seen the Scar before?” Tomm asked.

  Samantha shook her head. “No, but my father used to talk about it.”

  “Talk’s not the same,” he answered back.

  “No,” Samantha said and then tied Bane’s reins to the hitching post with some trepidation. Deutzani soldiers were plainly visible milling about in the town as she looked down the main thoroughfare. She was relieved that she did not see Sergeant Lindsay or any of his men. As they moved to the entrance of the shop, a large sweaty man with massive forearms appeared in the doorway.