Samantha stared at Otter in horror before the dog’s growling brought her back to the reality of the situation. She knew she was about to die. Her bow was broken and the dog would be on her before she could even pull her knife from her waist. She waited, as the growling dog approached, its hackles raised menacingly.
A low whistle sounded behind her and the dog went still. Sam turned to see the Executioner walking toward her, a slight smile on his face, and real fear flooded back into her. She turned and without another thought, rose and ran full tilt toward the dog. The dog flinched at first, surprised.
Furia yelped in fear and twisted free of the girl who was now falling feet first, her skirts bellowing up over her head, mercifully hiding her view of the plummet. She hit the cold water much sooner that she expected and plunged deep, deep into the muddy river and then finally, her feet struck the bottom. The force of her fall caused her knees to buckle slightly and it took an instant for her to realize that she was not dead or even injured, then she pushed upward with all her might and a moment later broke the surface. She sputtered for several seconds then wiped the water from her eyes. The dog also survived the fall and was swimming very slowly toward the far bank. Something in its movements told Sam that it had injured a leg, perhaps more than one, for it was having a hard time making head way against the slow current. Instinctively Samantha looked up, half expecting the Executioner to come falling down after her, but he was still up there, high on the edge of the Scar, gazing down at her. Her heart thumped harder just looking up at him, but after a moment she realized that he was not going to jump. Seeing the drop from below, she could hardly believe she’d done such a thing. She glanced over at the struggling dog, then back up at the Executioner who continued to glare down at her, and then with quiet determination she swam up behind the beast. She fumbled for her knife, which was somehow still in its sheath, drew it and with all her might tried to plunged it into the back of the dog. Swimming in the water made the task more difficult than she expected and the knife sliced through the dog’s hindquarters. The black beast gave a half yelp, swallowed some water and began to splash harder for the bank. Sam settled herself; this time swimming a bit closer and struck. The knife ran deep into the back of the dog’s neck. This time the dog did not yelp, just jerked spasmodically, went under, then rose again before finally disappearing all together beneath the water.
Sam, breathing hard now, looked back up. The Executioner still stood on the very edge of the Scar, watching. She smiled at him and waved, before slowly making her way to the far bank. She climbed from the river, holding her skirts tightly as they tried to fall away from her hips, heavy with water. She looked back up the Scar, but the Executioner was gone. She struggled up the steep dirt bank, but it was not until she got to the top that she realized her shoes were gone. She did not pause to ponder this; instead she began to walk quickly back to the town. However, she did not head directly into Lynndon where there were soldiers, instead she skirted around the east side, keeping low and all the while wishing her clothes were dry. Thankfully it was still very early in the morning; the back alleys were deserted as she circled all the way to the far side of town and into the barn, which stood next to Wake’s smithy shop. There was only one horse inside, in the very last stall. “Bull” a sign said on the crossbeam above and inside was a very large draft horse, whose back came level with Samantha’s eyes. The horse watched her and then skittered about nervously as she entered, and Samantha forced herself to slow down.
“Easy Bull…easy,” she said, and slowly approached one hand held out. Bull eyed her suspiciously, for she was obviously not Wake, but her kind words and soft scratches soon settled him down. The horse was immense, and Sam was not at all sure he was broken for riders until she spotted the saddle draped over one of the walls of the stall. “Wake” was carved into one side, and reading it she had to smile. Yes, this would be a horse Wake would own. She struggled with the saddle, it was large and heavy and it took all of her strength to lift it up over her head and onto Bull, but eventually she managed, and once in place the cinching was easy, she hardly had to bend over to do it. Bull waited patiently for her and then allowed the girl to lead him from the stall and out into the barn. He was excited, for Wake rarely saddled him anymore, only taking him out to pull the large heavy wagon that also sat in the back of the barn.
Sam led Bull over close to a ladder that went up to the loft. There she had to climb two steps before she could place her foot into the stirrup and pull herself up onto the horses back.
“Come on Bull,” she said softly and nudged the horse into a walk. Bull complied, as eager as she to be out of the barn. Once outside, Samantha was afraid she would see soldiers moving about but the streets were nearly empty. There was just one young boy on this side of town. He watched her as she turned her Bull to the west and together they left town at a fast pace. She would head northwest to Manse, the only other place to easily cross the Scar.
?
Gwaynn and Krys entered Manse late the next afternoon. They made straight for the town even though they could have avoided it and crossed the Scar at any number of points within a thirty-mile span. Here, in and around Manse, the Scar appeared and disappeared into the earth, rising and falling much like a sea serpent arching in an out of the water. Even the river was wide and slow which made the crossing that much easier. But the two young men from Noble were not interested in crossing undetected, for they were hunting a party of Executioners.
Manse was a thriving town of nearly forty thousand, making it the third largest metropolis in Massi, and the largest in the interior countryside. Only Cape and the capital Solarii surpassed it. It owed much of its prosperity to the massive amounts of trade goods that moved off the Scar Plateau and down to the plains, lumber being the chief commodity. But several precious metals were mined in the mountains, and animal furs were also traded, plus a fair portion of the horses in Massi were raised on the Plateau.
Gwaynn and Krys rode into the town, surprised by the amount of activity going on at the relatively late hour. There were large numbers of wagons loaded with lumber, some were massive, with teams anywhere from six to ten horses and a few even had as many as twelve. Some of the shops were closed for the night, but many were still open. They passed several taverns on the way into town; all were doing a brisk business, filled with Deutzani soldiers and Massi citizens alike. Gwaynn paid close attention to the interaction of the two groups, and while there seemed to be very little mingling, there also did not seem to be any overt animosity. Gwaynn frowned a little at the apparent peaceful co-existence.
“They’ve been here well over a year,” Krys said reading his friend’s thoughts by his gaze and the look on his face.
Gwaynn nodded, but said nothing until they came across a particularly large wagon filled with trimmed logs. “We’re looking for Lonogan Bock,” he said to a man who was high up on the load, checking the ropes and adjusting them when necessary. The man was burly, with shagging hair and he wore a full dark beard that nearly covered his entire face so that only three holes appeared out of the coarse hair, two for his eyes and one for his nose. The hole at his mouth didn’t appear at first as he studied the two below.
“South side of town, at the very edge along the river. Lonogan Lumber Mill, largest in Manse,” the man answered, his eyes still evaluating the pair before him. He thought they looked a might suspicious, plain clothes, but top notch mounts. The two didn’t usually go together. Horse thieves’ maybe, but these two didn’t have the look of horse thieves either. “You can’t miss it,” he added.
Gwaynn and Krys nodded and moved off unaware that the bearded man continued to watch them curiously.
Gwaynn led them farther into the large town, but eventually stopped at a two-story inn at the corner of two of the major roads. ‘Blackberry Inn,’ the sign said on the balcony above, inside at ground level, was a particularly busy tavern.
“I was hoping we were going to stop soon,” Krys said with a rueful smile. “I’m not used to riding so much,” he added and massaged his backside. Gwaynn laughed and did likewise.
“Lonogan can wait ‘til morning,” Gwaynn answered, still rubbing.
“We can help with that,” a feminine voice said from above, followed by several giggles. They looked up; on the balcony to their right were a pair of middle-aged women, and a young girl. They were all dressed provocatively and if there were any questions about their occupation, their direct, lurid stares would have dispelled them. As it was, neither Gwaynn nor Krys had any questions.
“Thank you miss,” Gwaynn said trying hard not to look up the woman’s skirts while she positioned herself so it would be hard for him not to.
