as he could and the man’s right kali flew from his hand. The man stood there stunned looking down at his empty hand. His will to fight flagged. He knew he had no hope of defeating this…this.. boy. He groaned in despair, but even so attacked yet again, but this time he charged for the girl. Gwaynn was expecting such a maneuver, but how he could not say. He sprang forward and stabbed the man just below the right collarbone. The man hissed with pain and swung with his left at his killer. Gwaynn blocked it with his right kali then yanked his left from the man’s chest. The man screamed and staggered. Gwaynn spun and lashed out; removing the man’s left hand at the wrist. Valent screamed again and lunged at Gwaynn, who drove one kali into his groin and the other back into the man’s chest. Valent slumped immediately and fell to the ground, and in this universe at least, was no more.
Gwaynn stood panting for a moment then he heard Elise whimper. He went to her and knelt down, hunger pangs making it hard to think. She was crying, and looking from him to the decapitated body in front of her and back again.
“There…there were five of them,” she said, disbelief in her voice.
“They were poorly trained,” Gwaynn gasped, the pain in his abdomen growing.
“They were not!” A voice declared from behind him. Gwaynn stood shakily to see Tar Nev walking briskly down the path, followed by Master Putal, Master Jann, and a gang of sleepy students. Nev arrived first and knelt to look at the first man he came to. He nodded mostly to himself and looked up at Gwaynn and smiled.
He pulled up a sleeve on the right arm of one of the dead men, and pointed out the distinctive tattoo. “They were Temple Knights,” he said simply and the crowd around them gasped. Temple Knights were the most seasoned, well-trained troops in the entire Kingdom…yet they were not Weapons Masters, and clearly not Tars.
“Temple Knights?” Gwaynn asked looking down at the carnage he had caused but then he shrugged.
“I think our time here has come to an end,” he said to Nev, clearly saddened by the fact.
?
Samantha rode due south throughout the rest of the day, only coming out of her stupor when the daylight began to wane. She did not spur Bane into a run, though at times she wanted to, instead she let him pick the pace, saving his energy for when she might truly need it. The sun was still an hour from setting when she reached the spot where she planned to camp for the night. She knew the game trail she’d been following very well. It was a short cut to the town of Dunn. Her father could not take it with the wagon when he was carting ale, but they would often come this way on horseback. When she was younger, Wellman would take her out into the woods to camp, swim and fish. This path led to their favorite swimming hole. It was a familiar spot and she felt safer because of it. The game trail crossed the Clearwater creek some four hundred feet from a large rock fall, which created a deep clear pool. She crossed over the creek while it was still shallow and moved off the game trail, traveling along the south side of the rushing water. She passed the swimming hole then turned out into the woods but rode only about twenty-five more feet. She stopped when she came to a steep bluff. At the base there were a number of boulders strewn about, like toys left behind by a careless child. Samantha led the animals through the boulders until she came to a flat clear section of rock, which was hidden from both the creek and the game trail, by the spattering of boulders. In the center of the space was a well-used fire pit, and directly next to the bluff was a pair of boulders, upon which a large slate of flat rock rested creating a natural roof, protection from all but the most serious rain. Samantha started to cry, thinking of the many times she had camped here with her father, Wellman and Arabelle.
She fought back the tears and dismounted. She removed her belongings from Nancy and then the saddle from Bane, going through the motions in a mental fog, trying not to think because it brought only pain. When the animals were free, she led them carefully back to the creek and allowed them to drink their fill, and as they did she quickly stripped off her clothes. The air was chilly for the end of March, but the water was not iced over. She dipped a toe in to test it first; it was cold…very cold, but without any hesitation she jumped and went straight in over her head. The shock of the cold water was far greater than she had anticipated, and she almost yelled out under water. She broke the surface with a loud gasp that scared Nancy, who shied away momentarily before returning to drink again. Samantha’s first inclination was to head for the bank as quickly as possible and leave the frigid water behind. The cold attacked her skin and nerves like a thousand tiny knives, but it also felt wonderfully clean. She forced herself to stay and then rubbed her cold hands over her body, down her belly, and between her legs, wanting to wash away the feelings of sickness and guilt. Despite her efforts and the cleansing effects of the water, Samantha began to suspect that she would never feel truly clean again.
It wasn’t long before the cold began to numb her skin, and she made her way quickly to the bank and climbed out onto land. In all she was only in the water for a few minutes, but still the air felt strangely warm at first then she began to shiver uncontrollably. She picked up her clothes though she did not put them on while she was wet, instead she grabbed one of the blankets she had brought along and wrapped up in it. She seized Bane’s halter and led him back up into the safety of the boulders, then leaned against him for several moments for his warmth. Finally she hobbled him, and walked back down to the creek and did the same for Nancy. It was beginning to grow dark in the forest, but before it was completely black, she collected a good supply of dead wood, shivering all the while, and carried it to the shelter.
Samantha started a small fire just outside the overhang, and though she knew it was dangerous, that the fire could be spotted, she welcomed its warmth. She kept it small, however, and huddled close by. She snuggled in the warm wool blankets, pulling her feet up close and hugging her knees. She leaned against one of the large boulders and stared into the flames. She was sure she would not sleep, and was afraid even to close her eyes, terrified her mind would play out the day’s events over and over. But in the end, the exhaustion caused by the cold and the fear of the day’s events won out. As the fire and blankets warmed her, she grew drowsy and closed her eyes. She was asleep almost immediately. Just as she feared, her dreams were full of blood and killing, but mercifully she did not remember them.
?
Tar Navarra woke just as she crossed the Clearwater creek. At first he was confused, not accustomed to waking up with his face in the dirt. He tried to move, but the pain in his head and shoulders convinced him to remain still for a moment. When he attempted to rise again he did so with much more care. His head was pounding as he reached up and gingerly touched his nose, which felt enormous. Blood was crusted in his nostrils and over his upper lip and mouth. Suddenly it came back to him and he looked over at the family stacked neatly beneath the oak. He glanced around the area. The girl was gone. Fury hit him like a wall of water and he gritted his teeth, but immediately stopped because of the pain it caused. He carefully reached around and felt the back of his head and found a large knot near the base of his skull. Blood was dried behind his ear and on his neck also. The girl had beaten him hard, but she was a fool for not killing him when she had the chance.
He stood and a wave of nausea went through him. His knees were shaking slightly, but as he began to move around his strength came back rapidly. The sun was just kissing the horizon, which meant he had been unconscious for approximately five hours. He grunted, amazed that he could have been out so long; the girl had put a walloping on him. He moved carefully over to the water pump, and pumped out fresh water. He was very thirsty and drank in large gulping mouthfuls and then he used more water to gently clean his wounds. He felt along the bridge of his nose, quiet sure it was broken, but he did not mind. He imagined it would make him look even more imposing.
He made his way over to the block and saw that the girl had not taken any of his weapons. His axe was where he had dropped it and his kali were still at his waist. He looked about for Kronos, but did not see him. He whistled loudly, but the stallion did not respond. Navarra frowned and then walked around the house and barn, whistling several more times, but there was still no sign of the horse. He was sure the girl could not have taken him, for Kronos was a well trained warhorse and would have fought if need be. He checked the barn on the off chance she had somehow managed to corral him, but the barn was empty of animals.
He decided to leave his axe, placing it just inside the door of the house. The block would also have to stay. He would return and retrieve them at a later time. Without a mount he began walking down the lane. He took time to study the tracks on the road in the fading light, and was able to pick out the girl’s as they left the road and took off across a field. She was riding a large horse and pulling a smaller one behind.
