Elsewhere

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!”

?

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.

              “Time’s up,” de Baard whispered, a wide grin on her face and with agonizing slowness started forward.

?

              “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