Richard Parker - Elsewhere

‘She’ll not recover,’ de Baard thought, and though she was not a proponent on the use of poisons as were many of her fellow Executioners, she thought that perhaps it was time to make an exception.

She stood to leave but found herself watching the stricken lovers comfort each other.

“Nearly cut her arm clean off,” a soldier said from a bed nearby. de Baard looked down at the man. He clearly had a head wound, which looked to be superficial. There was blood all down the side of his face but the bleeding appeared to have stopped.

“The Valencia boy cut it the rest of the way off,” the man added. “But he didn’t tax himself, t’was hardly hangin’ on. She took it well but screamed to bloody hell when they fired her stump…nasty work, that is.”

“She…she lost an arm,” de Baard said and had to use all her discipline to keep a smile from rushing to her face.

The man nodded.

‘Who would want a cripple?’ She thought and her desire for Gwaynn Massi swelled briefly in her breast until she managed to fight it down. She did not want to go through any of that again; once was more than enough.

“The King’s been with her the whole time…it was a blow to him, especially after the death of his Weapons Master,” the man added.

“Logan’s dead?” de Baard asked very surprised. Logan was an excellent fighter and would have posed problems for her. His death was welcome news.

The soldier nodded once again, still eyeing his King in the corner. “Took an arrow to the head…from what’s said, he took it in the very opening of the battle. Cryin’ shame. We needed him.”

But de Baard was no longer listening. “Now if only Lee Brandt would die,” she whispered to herself.

“Pardon?” the soldier asked, but de Baard was no longer at his side. She’d left without another word.

ǂ

Gwaynn woke early the following morning to find Samantha staring up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He was sitting in a hard wooden chair which he’d pulled just as close to her cot as he could get it the night before. He smiled at her encouragingly but couldn’t stifle a groan as he sat up straighter. His back was aching and his neck was stiff. Cobb, who had also not left her side, was lying on the floor on the opposite side of the cot, snoring loudly.

“You still love me?” Samantha asked in a whisper so soft he could barely hear her. But he didn’t have to; instinctively he knew what was on her mind, her left arm…or lack of one. Gwaynn supposed that if he’d just lost a limb his mind would constantly dwell on the fact, like a tongue seeking a bad tooth.

“Enough to sleep in this hard, wooden chair for the rest of my life if I have to,” he answered, but she didn’t smile, instead she held up her injured arm. Its lack of length hit them both equally.

“Look at this,” she said. “And you still love me?”

Gwaynn tried not to roll his eyes. “I must admit, your left forearm was my favorite part of you. Truth be told, it was all that was really keeping us together…”

“I’m serious Gwaynn,” Samantha snapped so loudly that several nearby patients stirred.

Gwaynn got out of his chair and knelt by her bedside. He reached and gently raised her wounded arm and began softly kissing the blood soaked bandages.

“More than ever,” he whispered. “I remember when I first saw you, rounding the corner, running from Navarra. You’d just been thrown from your horse; you were dirty, your hair was a mess and full of twigs, you were bleeding from a dozen tiny wounds…and I remember…I remember thinking how beautiful you were even with terror etched on your face. But later after you’d cut his head off and I saw your courage…well then you were more than beautiful, you were radiant, like the sun, almost too bright for my eyes.”

Gwaynn held up her half arm once more. “Now…with this… I’ll see nothing but beauty and courage whenever I look at you.”

Samantha stared at him for a long moment without saying a word, but her eyes lost a little of the panic that had threatened to overwhelm her.

“Krys is dead?” She finally asked.

The fact hit Gwaynn like a hammer and he jerked involuntarily, but his eyes never left hers.

“Yes,” he said softly. “He was hit by an arrow almost as soon as we went through the bridge.”

Samantha’s eyes glistened and then she was crying softly once again. Gwaynn sat with her for a while and listened to her cry.

“Does your arm hurt you still?”

She nodded her head, but did not look at him as someone moved through the opening of the large tent. Gwaynn glanced up and caught sight of Cyn de Baard, who stood still for a moment staring at him, and then she walked slowly over to him.

“I heard about Krys,” she said, her face still bandaged, but Samantha thought some of her beauty was beginning to shine through the white cotton wraps once more and her stomach clenched. She knew all about this woman…she knew Huntley wanted Gwaynn, and for a moment she wondered if Gwaynn saw only beauty and courage when he looked at Cyndar as well. Cobb woke and suddenly sat up. He glanced over at Samantha and smiled. “Tough girl,” he mumbled then glanced over at Cyndar and frowned. He did not like the woman…though her face was very beautiful…maybe more than Emm…maybe more than Samantha. But it was her eyes…yes her eyes, they were not beautiful; they were cold and dead, like a fish washed up on a riverbank.

Gwaynn nodded to his Captain but kept his face carefully neutral. He was happy to see her looking so fit and though her shoulder was still wrapped; her eyes sparkled once more with the vitality he remembered.

“I woke Zebo…Monde says the army is moving slowly northeast toward Lynndon shadowing the Palmerrio, but keeping their distance for now. Lonogan expects the Palmerrio to attempt an attack before the day’s end,” she added, hoping to entice Gwaynn to hasten his departure. She had some killing to do.

“The Temple Knights?” Gwaynn asked with growing dismay, feeling the country slipping away from them all. He’d lost…he’d won back Massi and lost it again, all in less than a year…they had been so close, if only…

de Baard shrugged. “They’re making preparations, but they are a mobile force, not a siege army. I think they will wait for the outcome with the Palmerrio.”

Gwaynn smiled, admiring Cyndar’s keen mind. Her assessment coincided with his exactly. Perhaps she would be his next Weapons Master; after all she had the skill. She’d killed an Executioner all on her own…which was an impressive feat for anyone. Samantha saw his smile and her heart jumped in anger, but she maintained control. Gwaynn however, whose hand was still on her wounded arm felt her stiffen and glanced down at her. Samantha’s eyes bore into his for a moment.

‘As queen she’ll have to put away her jealousy,’ Gwaynn thought. ‘I have responsibilities to myself and my country. Of course to be a queen, she must have a country,’ he amended, thinking of the many threats that still faced them all.

But he was jerked out of these thoughts by a commotion coming from beyond the tent. They all heard a few shouts and then a single clash of steel on steel and then nothing. As one, their eyes went to the tent flap. Gwaynn removed his hand from Samantha’s shoulder and stood, slowly drawing his kali. From the bed Samantha shivered, already missing his touch.

She had no time to dwell on the loss however, because through the flap came a tall, older man dressed in gray robes that were trimmed in royal blue. Samantha didn’t know who the man was, but she recognized that he wore the colors of Noble Island.

She heard Gwaynn gasp.

“Master Kostek,” he said with evident surprise.