wanted to see Mille.
“Vio is on her way but will be delayed,” Kostek said as if reading the young man’s mind even though his back was still turned.
“I rarely use this set anymore,” he said by way of explanation. “My favorites are a bit longer now, but these were my first,” he added, then turned and removed a set of short, beautiful tapered swords from a leather casing. He handed them to Gwaynn, who held them as if they were treasure. The swords, kali they were called, were about three and a half feet in length though a good foot of that was the grip and pommel. They were highly polished and Gwaynn would have taken them for new except for the few nicks in one of the blades and another on the hand guard.
“I carried these for a long time,” Master Kostek said. “My master presented them to me when I graduated. I would like you to have them now.”
Gwaynn looked up at the man, stunned.
Kostek smiled down at him, though he noticed for the first time that Gwaynn had grown since coming to Noble. “The grips are black sharkskin,” Kostek explained. “It is the best, keeps them from slipping even when your hands become sweaty. I’ve insisted on such grips ever since owning this pair,” he explained, trying to cover the awkward first moments for the young man.
Gwaynn, who had once owned a set far more expensive than these was very moved, and for a moment could not find the words.
“I thank you,” he finally managed, barely above a whisper.
Kostek was surprised to find that he was also becoming emotional. He clapped Gwaynn on the back. “You’ll get some use out of them…do not doubt it.”
Gwaynn agreed with a grim smile then held them out, spinning them about to get the feel of them. They were perfectly balanced and Gwaynn instantly knew that though his old pair may have been bejeweled and laced with intricate carvings, they were infinitely inferior to this pair.
“Thank you,” Gwaynn repeated and made his leave, using the excuse that he still had to gather his things for the return trip to the far side of the island, but he promised to return shortly to say his goodbyes to Vio. Once outside he tucked his new Kali into his belt and quickly moved down the path, which led to the beach.
The moon was up and nearly full, bathing the path in a silvery glow. Wild grasses grew tall on either side of the pathway and seemed to give off a pale yellow light of their own. They swayed softly in the light breeze, which was coming off the sea and nearly hid the small girl from Gwaynn’s sharp vision, but he caught the odd shape out of the corner of his eye and stopped. At first he thought Mari was simply trying to hide from him. But when he left the path, moving toward her, she did not jump up as he was expecting, instead she still lay completely motionless.
“Mari?” Gwaynn said softly, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He stopped above her, but before bending down he carefully took in his surroundings. He thought to call for Mille but remained quiet. Something was not right. Finally he bent. Mari, who was lying face down in the sand, still made no move and with much trepidation Gwaynn reached out and took hold of her shoulder. He turned her over and her arms flayed limply. There was a deep cut in her forehead, which had bled copiously from the look, but it was now just oozing a bit of blood. She was unconscious, but when Gwaynn put a hand to her chest he could feel her heart beating and he sighed with relief.
He rose to his full height and again thought to call for Mille, but something kept him from doing so. He made his way back to the path, this time moving cautiously. He still had yet to spot a soul when something flew out of the night at him. He jumped, and then instinctively crouched down as a heavy object landed with a thud not far from where he was squatting. At first he did not recognize what he was looking at and it took several moments for him to realize he was looking at a human head. But the moonlight was bright and eventually Mille’s hair and facial features came into focus. Her mouth was open in a silent scream. Her eyes were wide and clear and though they were still blue, they were now blank of all feeling.
“Were you looking for her?” A voice asked from out of the darkness.
Gwaynn froze in a crouch for a long moment, staring at the mouth he had so recently kissed. His heart pounded, his ears roared and he took little notice of three additional black shapes that rose out of darkness around him. All together they moved silently toward him, but only one was close enough to present an immediate threat.
Gwaynn slowly rose to his feet, pain and anger beginning to well up inside him.
“I’ve been looking for you Prince Gwaynn Massi,” the voice, smooth and deep, said just loud enough to be heard, then a shape stood and Gwaynn saw him not twenty paces away, the Executioner Tar Navarra.
Gwaynn stared at him, but said nothing; instead he pulled the set of kali from his belt and tested their balance once again in the moonlight.
“Ah,” Tar Navarra said, like a sigh.
Gwaynn took a step forward, suddenly aware of someone rushing at him from behind and just a bit from his left. He sensed the sword stroke rather than saw it. He ducked, spun around and dove into a roll on top of the sand. The sword passed harmlessly over him, but as he passed the legs of his assailant he swung out and sliced through the meat and tendons of his right calf. The man screamed as Gwaynn finished his roll and rose to his feet once more, facing away from Navarra, but he was now facing the other two men who were rushing to attack him.
“Stop!” Navarra yelled. “I will deal with him, just keep him from escaping.”
The two men stopped in their tracks and took up positions to the left and right of the path. They kept their distance, stopping some thirty paces from Gwaynn, who had now turned to face Navarra. Gwaynn checked over his shoulder several times, but the men held their distance, so he started forward, passing the groaning man on the ground who gripped the back of his leg in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The man feebly swung his sword at Gwaynn, who deflected the blow effortlessly with one kali and sliced, through his neck with the other. As Gwaynn passed he heard the dying man behind him struggling for air, thrashing about to no avail. Gwaynn was unmoved.
“The cub has claws, I see,” Navarra said, but instead of his kali, he drew his long sword and then waited patiently for his quarry to come to him.
Gwaynn moved forward steadily then when he deemed himself close enough he rushed in to attack. Navarra parried the blows as Gwaynn streaked by. The Executioner was surprised at the boy’s courage and speed, but he was not fast enough, Navarra launched a powerful kick which struck the small of Gwaynn’s back and sent him sprawling in the sand. Navarra whirled and swung a deathblow, torn between toying with his victim and ending it quickly before any Weapons Masters were alerted. He opted for the safe path, aiming for the back of the boy’s head. The blow struck only sand, as Gwaynn vaulted out of the path of the oncoming steel with a dexterity that was truly amazing.
“Ah…youth,” Navarra said, though the boy’s speed was beginning to unnerve him a little.
Gwaynn rolled to his feet and attacked once more, but again the Executioner managed to block every blow before sending Gwaynn to the sand again with a vicious elbow to the side of the head. Though the blow stunned Gwaynn and he hit the sand flat on his back he still managed to roll up and over onto his feet again in one fluid motion just in time to parry another swipe of the sword.
“I see your time on the island has not been wasted,” Navarra said and began his own attack. Gwaynn, who was not as adept at fighting someone skilled with a long sword, had trouble doing anything but back peddling. It took all of his ability to keep the sword from hitting home, and though he was not aware of it, his skill was beginning to frustrate the man before him. Navarra, an Executioner, was accustomed to overpowering his opponents almost at will. The boy had indeed become a threat, both to him and his Lord.
They continued to battle, Gwaynn growing dismayed that he was utterly unable to penetrate the Executioner’s defenses. Not a single one of his attacks had managed to come close to drawing blood, though he himself was bleeding from several nicks, one on his arm and another on his left thigh. Only his speed had allowed him to avoid the deadlier thrusts.
Navarra, however, was oblivious to the boy’s dismay, in fact, he was growing tired and a bit concerned that Prince Gwaynn showed no signs at all of fatigue. It seemed to Navarra as if the boy could go on fighting all night. Navarra knew he had to end this, and soon.
“Gwaynn!” a voice yelled from above, distracting the boy. Navarra took advantage of the moment
