young Deutzani soldier was still alive, and cast a questioning look at Gwaynn, who shrugged.
“He’s a cousin to a close friend,” he explained.
“A Deutzani…a close friend?”
Gwaynn just shrugged again. “Let’s get moving,” he said and climbed up next to Bock, who would be driving the wagon. Gwaynn glanced back at Van, who was sitting next to Krys, and eyeing him with more worry than Gwaynn would have thought possible a few hours ago. The two had hit it off splendidly and exchanged a number of stories about Vio.
“Watch him close,” Gwaynn ordered, “and make sure his wound does not begin to bleed again.”
The ride to the Hawser Ranch was long, dark and at times bumpy since they went by direct route to avoid Koshka and any questions a man wounded with a kali was likely to garner. They were forced to travel overland, since the only road to the Hawser’s was through Koshka, but they made very good time and arrived just before midmorning the following day. Krys was completely out when the lifted him from the wagon and carried him into the main house. Rue Hawser and his wife Carmen worked the ranch with their two sons Olney and Brace, all of them fiercely loyal to Afton Sath and therefore the Massi. Rue and Carmen immediately took charge of Krys, carefully removing the weapon, cleaning the wound and then bandaging their young patient, who took it all with the stoicism of the unconscious. They finally emerged from the sick room nearly an hour later to find Gwaynn up and pacing. Bock was dozing in a chair and Van was snoring softly on a small sofa.
Gwaynn turned to them with obvious concern. Rue smiled, but it was Carmen who held up a hand.
“He will be fine,” she said. “As you suspected the artery was missed. The kali has been removed, and the wound cleaned, as long as he doesn’t contract an infection he should make a full recovery…I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name,” she added. In the rush to help the wounded man introductions had been missed.
“Gwaynn Massi,” he answered. “I am in your debt.”
Carmen blinked and Rue just stood open mouthed, suddenly alert, though a moment before he was weary from the exacting work of stitching up Krys’ wound.
“Gwaynn…Massi?” Carmen asked growing pale. “M’lord?”
“Yes,” Gwaynn answered. “I am in your debt.”
Later that night, Gwaynn endured one last dream of his mother and Gwynn hanging by the scaffold, stomachs ripped open, innards writhing on the ground, two dogs feasting. The surrounding Deutzani soldiers laughed as they watched the canines eat and then Gwynn suddenly seemed to notice Gwaynn and looked up.
“Food for dogs,” she whispered, and dissipated as Gwaynn bolted upright, breath coming in gasps. It was a long time later before he was able to relax enough to fall back to sleep.
?
Samantha found a road and turned to the southwest away from Manse and came across the bodies just before nightfall, a full day after Gwaynn and his party had departed the area. Carrion birds had already arrived at the scene. Finding so much death and so close to dark, completely unnerved her. She was tired and wanted to make camp but was very afraid that the dead men would draw unwanted attention to the area. She moved on and picked up her pace. She patted Bull with sympathy, knowing that he was also getting very tired despite his prodigious strength. She made maybe five more miles before night closed in, very dark, clouds covering the moon, but instead of stopping where she was she moved off the road to the west nearly a half a mile before finally dismounting. She was very sleepy and moved clumsily in the dark, but she took the time to unsaddle Bull and rub him down despite her own exhaustion. Only after he was hobbled and happily grazing did she lay out her blanket and drop down on the hard packed ground. She lit no fire, and fell into a deep sleep without even eating.
She didn’t wake until Bull blew horse spittle and snot all over her face. She sat up quickly, sputtering and disoriented.
“Good morning to you,” she said, wiping the mucus from her face. The sun was up high, nearly an hour above the horizon, and she cursed. She rose and from her pack took an apple which she fed to Bull, who ate it quickly and happily. She saddled him and then struggled up onto his back and started off. As she rode she rummaged through the bag of food from Cobb and found two hard biscuits. Sam ate them dry and made her way cautiously back to the road. There was still no one in sight and as she looked back toward the lake she could see only a few birds circling high overhead in the distance.
Near noon she topped a rise; though she hadn’t been aware that she was even traveling uphill, so gradual was the incline. Below, maybe two miles away, she saw the town of Koshka, and beyond the town, a thick line of trees which extended in either direction as far as the eye could see; the great Scar Forest. She looked back to the town with a frown, trying to decide whether or not just to bypass it. In the end the look of the forest troubled her enough that she decided to risk at least the edge of the town and maybe find someone to give her some information about the way ahead. Even so she still left the road and skirted well around to the west. She would approach Koshka from the south in case she met any soldiers bent on chasing her, that way with luck she could flee away from the Executioner and possibly loose any pursuers in the deep forest.
The trip around took time. It was nearly two hours later when she approached the outskirts. The town was not overly large, and only had perhaps two dozen buildings; the largest stood in the center of town and looked to be three stories. The first building she came to was a granary. Sam stopped and tied Bull’s reins to a hitching post along the wooden walkway. She saw no sign of any soldiers and only a few people sat outside, down near the center of town. She was far enough away to feel relatively safe and those visible did not seem to be paying her any attention. She slowly moved around to the door leading into the granary, trying to appear normal; the smell of chaff was strong inside the dark interior.
“Hello,” she called, though not too loudly. No one answered so she moved farther inside. The darkness deepened.
“Hello,” she said again, this time a bit louder, but there was still no answer. She turned back around to the door, and there framed against the bright sun was a figure peering inside.
“What the hell do you want?” a harsh voice called. “Get the hell out of my grain. What are you doing walking all over it?”
“I…I’m sorry,” Samantha said flustered. She moved quickly to the doorway, blinking against the glare. Blocking her way was a very small, very wizened old man. She couldn’t even guess at his age. His face was a maze of wrinkles, covered in short white hairs, maybe two or three days of stubble. How he could shave at all and not cut himself with such wildly irregular skin was a wonder to her.
“Who are you?” the old man barked much too loudly for her peace of mind, and she held up her hands to try and quiet him.
“My name…is Sam…Samantha Fultan.”
“Don’t know you,” the old man protested. He pushed roughly past her and went inside. She wanted to follow, but remained where she was, and was rewarded by his quick return.
“You still here? What the hell do you want?” He barked at her once again.
Samantha’s anger flared and she stepped in front of the little man. She towered over him by nearly a head.
“I need to find someone,” she said as he tried to push her out of the way again. She gripped his arm.
“Please,” she said in a softer voice. “I’m looking for my Uncle, Afton Sath.”
The old man stopped in his tracks.
“Afton Sath,” he repeated loudly and she winched.
“Shhh,” she said.
“Shhh…shhhhh. Why shhhh?” He demanded.
“Are there any soldiers here?”
“Soldiers?” he asked loudly. “Hell, there aren’t no soldiers here,” he added. “And why didn’t you say you was kin to Master Sath.”
“You know of him?”
The old man looked at her as if she was someone to be pitied.
“Well of course I know him. Who doesn’t?” he barked, and moved around to the back of the building. She followed along behind.
“You need to head out to the Hawser place,” he said, grabbing a bucket and moved back the way he had just
