The Black Horseman

Good, he thought. Two animals will make tracking her easier. He was feeling thoroughly embarrassed about his present situation and cursed inwardly. To have a slip of a girl best him like that was completely unthinkable and something he would definitely not let get around. He thought of Samantha and how good her body felt that afternoon. He was sure she’d been just as excited as he. Perhaps that was why she did not kill him, in any case, he had already decided to enjoy her once more before he killed her, and kill her he would. There was no help for that now. Still if she was anything like him, they could have fun before the end…

              His mind stopped in mid-thought, because there along side the road was Kronos, lying on his side, clearly dead. Navarra seethed and moved closer to find out the cause. He saw the wound in the horse’s chest almost immediately, though because the arrow had broken off at some point and he had to dig into the flesh to find out the source of the wound. He found a length of shaft and the arrowhead lodged deep in the horse’s lungs.

              ‘Damn girl,’ he thought to himself and pounded his fist against his thigh. She would pay dearly for this, and as his anger grew he started off toward Millvale, this time walking much faster than customary. He was impatient to begin tracking her, but had already decided that after he commandeered a horse in Millvale, he would head first to Solarii. Though it would cost him time, he would fetch his dogs before continuing after the girl. He was sure she would fear his dogs, and after she was dead he would enjoy watching them eat her.

                                                                     ?

Samantha woke with the sun already on her face. She went from a deep sleep to panic almost instantly, standing so fast she slammed her shoulder into the rock overhang. Wincing from the pain, she scanned the area, silently berating herself for her carelessness. For the moment, however, she seemed to be safe, but there was no telling just how close the Executioner could be by now, if he was even alive. Her spirit sank. In her heart she knew he still lived. She should have killed him; she should have made sure. Now she would have to run without truly knowing whether he was chasing or not. She felt sick and would have thrown up if she had anything in her stomach. She quickly rolled up her belongs, making sure to pack everything tightly. The fire was long out but she still grabbed up several handfuls of dirt and threw it on the coals. Bane snorted and she looked over at him.

              “You could have woken me,” she scolded, but Bane just snorted again. Beth was always startled when he snorted, but then laughed; believing Bane was playing with her. Thinking of her smallest sister, Samantha began to cry, softly at first but then uncontrollably. She cried for nearly a quarter of an hour before final managing to pull herself into some semblance of control.

              She saddled Bane and packed up Nancy as fast as she was able then led them on foot back to the game trail she had been following. She looked north first, afraid she might see the Executioner just yards away, but the forest was empty. She sighed with relief and began to head south once more, this time at a faster pace. The woods in this area were still familiar to her and she made good time, but through it all, in the back of her mind she kept wondering how close the Executioner was behind her. He could be close. He might even have passed her in the night.  It was quite possible for she had only come about six miles from her home. She shook her head at her own foolishness, disgusted by her weakness. She rode at a trot for almost an hour, trying to make up for lost time until the path came to the edge of a clearing. The trail ran parallel to the clearing, just inside the tree line. She continued to follow it, but doing so made her feel exposed. She hated being so close to the open. She knew she must travel like Afton Sath, cross-country, away and out of sight of as many people as possible. Anyone she saw, or anyone who saw her was a potential informant, and she knew from personal experience how persuasive the man who followed her could be.

              “Sam!” a voice yelled from deeper in the woods, up the hill to her left. She jerked out of her thoughts, cringing. She looked about, still riding, but now she heard the rustling of leaves.

              “Sam!” she heard again behind her and turned to see Lonney Madres, the son of a farmer who regularly sold hops to her father. They lived about three quarters of the way to Dunn. He was younger by a few years, but even so he was aggressive in his advances toward her. But she had always found him more amusing than threatening. He was tall, very thin and a bit awkward. He had a slightly lopsided face, which he inherited from his father, and shaggy, straw colored hair that always looked as if it had never been combed, today was no exception.

              “Sam stop!” He insisted for she had kept riding. Finally, knowing it was pointless now, she reined Bane to a halt. She remained silent, however, a little surprised to find that she could not make herself talk.

              Lonney was on foot and ran the rest of the way down the hill, and then up along side of her. He patted Nancy as he passed, eyeing the pack on her back. “What are you doing way out here?” he asked, panting a bit from his exertion. He had a bow in his hand and a quarrel of arrows on his back.

              Samantha felt her eyes begin to tear up, so she quickly turned her head away from him. “Just riding,” she answered and was proud of the fact that her voice barely wavered.

              “What’s wrong?” Lonney asked sounding very concerned. Obviously her voice had wavered more than she thought.

              “Nothing,” she answered growing angry with him and all his questions, “just riding.”

              “With both Bane and Nancy?” Lonney asked, wondering if she thought he was an idiot like Hub, the man from Dunn who soiled his pants three times a week.

              Sam nodded sheepishly, realizing how foolish she was being. She would need a better cover story in case she ran across anyone else.

              “Does your father know?” Lonney finally asked, wondering what mischief she was up to now.

              Sam jerked as if he had hit her. She stared at him then suddenly burst into tears. Lonney backed away quickly, like she was Hub, with soiled pants. She cried for a good minute before calming a bit. She looked at Lonney through tear-laden eyes and would have been amused at his expression but for the grief in her heart.

              “My father is dead,” she whispered, flinching as she spoke, as if saying it aloud somehow made it real.

              Lonney gasped. “How?”

              Sam ignored him for a moment. “And Arabelle…and Beth,” she added. “Plus they killed Wellman and Murl.”

              “Who?” Lonney stammered, shocked.

              “A Deutzani Executioner,” she answered drying her eyes, “yesterday.”

              They both remained in stunned silence for a moment before Lonney looked up at her, sad excitement in his eyes. “My father will want to know about this,” he said. “You must come home with me and tell him what has happened.” He expected her to agree, but she just shook her head.

              “No, I can’t come to your house,” she answered. “Afton Sath came to ours, and the Executioner followed. He’s after me. He will follow me, and I will not lead him to your family. He will kill them.”

              Lonney frowned. He had not considered this but then suddenly his face brightened. “Are you running south?”

              Sam shook her head again. “I can’t tell you,” she answered.

              Lonney frowned again, feeling as if she didn’t trust him.

              “You might be killed for such information,” she added, reading his face easily. He brightened again, happy that she was showing such concern for his well-being. Then he got an idea.

              “Are you at least going south as far as Stanton falls?”

              Sam took a moment to think. She would go past the falls as she turned southwest traveling along the Clearwater creek to where it joined the Scar at Lynndon. If she continued on this pace she would reach the falls sometime late tomorrow morning, possibly the early afternoon.

              “Yes, I will be passing the falls,” she finally answered, shrugging to herself. If he guessed she would be going to the falls it wouldn’t be hard to guess she was going to Lynndon, after all it was the only place to easily ford the Scar River within thirty miles.

              “I’ll bring my father,” he said, now very excited. “We will meet you there at mid-day tomorrow.”

              He patted her leg then began to move off out of the woods and across the field.

              “If you are not there within an hour of mid-day, I will leave,” she yelled after him, suddenly relieved