Richard D. Parker (2012)
The Temple Islands Series
Book One: The Black Horseman
Book Two: Assassin of the Heart
Book Three: Elsewhere
Book Four: The Best of all Possible Worlds
Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Parker
All right reserved
The Black Horseman is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.
I
Once thought to be a friend, the sun now revealed its true colors as endless rays of light and heat poured down without mercy or hesitation. The split personality that ruled the heavenly body was exposed, translucent as a rainbow conjured by a prism, artificial beauty and artificial kindness. Cast aside were the times when the sun smiled down upon the boy’s happier days; the sun had become the emotionless torturer, burning and blistering any bare skin it touched. There was no escape, no reprieve and no hope. The sun did not care that the boy was scalded and blazing red. It did not care that he was stripped naked, his skin beginning to bubble or that he was slowly dying of thirst. The sun rained its clean, clear rays down upon the earth with no thought to the boy tied tightly to the scaffolding. The sun cared not that he’d been beaten, scratched, pinched and raped, and as the moments sauntered slowly by, Gwaynn was finding that his cares were also slipping away, carried off with the sunshine.
The pain in his wrists was now gone, though blood still oozed from the burns made by the ropes that held him. The pain in his shoulders, which an hour ago was excruciating, had fallen off to a dull ache. He hung completely limp, just a bit too short to stand and take his weight from his arms. Earlier, he’d watched as the tips of his toes created small grooves in the dust beneath him, but now, though his eyes were open, his vision was blank. His long dark hair was slick with sweat, and his white skin had begun to change, first to pink and then to an angry red before finally the skin on his shoulders took on an alarming shade of purple. The burn promised exquisite pain…if he lived that long. Gwaynn was no longer sure he would, and surprisingly he cared far less than he had only an hour ago. He was dimly aware of his twin sister, Gwynn, crying softly as she hung next to him, but he did nothing to try and comfort her. She was just as naked, and just as burnt, and though they were both fifteen, she had the luxury of being almost two inches taller, and so could stand on her feet and thus take her weight from her wrists and shoulders, at least up to about a half an hour ago. She was finally tiring, and the pain was knifing through her arms as her legs finally began to give way.
Gwaynn dimly heard his mother from the far end of the scaffold, speaking softly to his sister. They were the first words any of them had uttered since the Zani had finished with them. The soldiers had taken it relatively easy on Gwaynn, only a few paid him any special attention and that, though painful and mortifying, was over very quickly. His mother and sister, however, were repeatedly raped, sometimes slow, but mostly hard and fast. He knew it was far worse for his sister, who up to now had never known a man. She screamed through most of the first few men before finally falling completely silent in spite of their continued grunts, pokes and prods.
Now, as she cried, Gwaynn wanted to say something. She was closer to him than anyone in the world, close as only twins could be. He tried to speak, but found that he could no longer raise his head, and when he tried to talk, found that his tongue was swollen and would not work properly, so he gave up the attempt. She’d always been the strong one anyway. She’d been strong earlier as well. Gwynn was the one to challenge the Deutzani soldiers as they entered their private rooms. Gwynn was the one to boldly move forward, while he sat cowering with his mother, who’d held onto him and whispered soft words of comfort.
Sometime later he woke and was surprised that he had slept, though still not truly sure he had, except that something was different. The sun had left the courtyard and moved off behind the high walls of the keep behind them. They now hung in the shade, glorious shade, and Gwaynn could not remember feeling anything quite so wonderful.
Gwynn was no longer crying. Gwaynn tried to lift his head and was surprised when he succeeded. Pain shot through his neck and shoulders, and he gave an involuntary whimper. He looked over at his sister and mother; both hung limply, heads down, their loose hair hiding their faces. Gwaynn painfully glanced around the courtyard. It was not very large, with the keep and main quarters running along the western side, the stables to the south, and the main gate along the eastern wall. At the moment there were only three Zani near the gate. He wondered vaguely where all the other soldiers had gone, and a ray of hope went through him that perhaps his father and older brothers were not dead, as was reported, but were in fact leading an army back to rescue them all. Hope fled as he watched the soldiers come to attention as a man rode through the gate. He was dark, dressed all in black and he rode upon a black horse. Gwaynn shivered. The dark man was followed by two additional riders, also wearing black and finally by two very large black dogs. At first Gwaynn did not understand, and then he heard his mother begin to cry.
As the man rode closer, Gwaynn could see that his pants and cape were trimmed in red, and at last he understood. This man was an Executioner from the Temple Islands. This man was death; this man was the Black Horseman. Despite his growing fear, Gwaynn studied him closely as he rode slowly around them and over to the stables, once there he dismounted. His companions followed him and likewise dropped from their horses. Gwaynn watched them from the corner of his eye, unable to turn his head farther without a great deal of pain. One of the men took the reins from the Executioner and led all of the horses into the stables. The other man leaned against one of the wooden posts supporting the roof, and watched as the man from the Temple Islands walked slowly toward the scaffolding, the dogs following eagerly behind him.
The man moved without hurry, around to the front of what was left of the Massi royal family. He glanced only briefly at Gwaynn, his eyes lingering for a long time on Gwynn before they finally moved to his mother.
“My name is Tar Navarra,” he said just above a whisper, and Gwaynn could hear the pride in it. “Are you the Lady Marie Addent Massi?”
Gwaynn’s mother said nothing, but the Executioner seemed unconcerned.
