Richard Parker - The Black Horseman

Gwaynn frowned, not sure he ever wanted to swim in the sea again. But they didn’t swim long, and were soon out and dressed. They headed off in the direction of the hall, but Gwaynn stayed on the dune until late into the night, thinking.

By the next morning he had made up his mind to ask Tar Kostek if he could at least practice with the other students even if he could not formally train with them. He worked with Lane all morning in the bean fields south of the hall, but they finished up early in the afternoon, ate and when Gwaynn was done for the day he took a seat in the shade of the hall to wait for the students to return from their training.

Leek found him there soon after. “Come Lad, Prolly will need your help as well,” the old man said in his slow, relaxed style.

Gwaynn was annoyed for a moment but it past quickly. Reluctantly he climbed to his feet and followed Leek off toward the barns.

“Prolly?”

“Yep, her water broke not fifteen minutes ago. Karin is with her now, but may need some help with the birthin.”

Karin was Lane and Shari’s eldest daughter. Gwaynn still had no idea who Prolly might be, but he followed Leek into the barn and soon found out that it was one of the draft horses. Prolly was down, lying mostly on her side but her head was up and her tail swishing back and forth in an almost drowsy manner. Karin was kneeling at Prolly’s south end, her left hand hidden up inside the horse.

Gwaynn groaned when he saw her.

Karin grimaced at him. “You here to take over?”

He grinned at her sheepishly, and then gave a startled look over at Leek.

“Er…I hope not,” he answered, looking to the older man for rescue.

“You just watch, and fetch anything we need,” Leek told him, amused by the lad’s obvious relief.

“How’s the foal?” Leek asked his granddaughter. The girl moved her hand about inside the horse and then nodded.

“Coming head first and nearly here already,” she said, and glanced over at Gwaynn.

“Could you bring another lantern?” she asked. Gwaynn hurried to obey, surprised to find that he was fascinated by the impending birth…disgusted, but fascinated. He rushed back, but despite Karin’s prediction, the foal did not come for nearly three hours. And when it did it took the three of them to pull it, covered in slime and blood, out of Prolly. The sight of the blood gushing from the womb tempered Gwaynn’s mood, so that he did not smile with the others as the long legged colt took its first shaky steps to its mother.

“Would you like to name him?” Karin said, oblivious to the change in Gwaynn’s mood.

Gwaynn shook his head. “Him?” he asked, thinking for some reason the colt should have been female.

“Well, yes it’s a him,” Karin answered as if it was obvious. “Would you like to name him?” She asked again.

Leek cleared his throat but said nothing. He had noticed the stricken look on Gwaynn’s face as he tried to wipe the blood from his hands. The boy had been through something, that was plain, but he decided against saying anything. It was against the old man’s nature to push, knowing that everything would come around in time.

Gwaynn shook his head again, and started to walk out, wanting to head to the water pump and clean the blood from his hands.

“Ah, come on, name it,” Karin insisted. Gwaynn stopped at the stall door. At the moment he could only think of one name, Navarra, but if they named the colt that he might have to kill it.

“I can’t think of a name,” Gwaynn said and made to leave.

“Nothing, not one, comes to mind,” she asked, still playing, unable to understand the boy’s reticence. Gwaynn shook his head but still hesitated at the door of the stall and then a name came to him.

“I can think of one,” he finally said and smiled very briefly. Karin smiled back at him.

“I like it when you smile,” she said lightly. “You should do it more.”

The smile fell from his face, which was not what Karin had intended, and her face reddened.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, not understanding all the emotions going through Gwaynn.

“Let the lad be,” Leek finally said, trying in his own way to come to her aid.

But Gwaynn waved him off. “I’m fine,” he said. “I think we should name him Karl,” he added and despite himself smiled again. He wondered what the big man would say if he knew a horse was named after him. Well, it was a draft horse, so Karl probably would have thought the name a good one.

With all the excitement over the coming of the new colt, it wasn’t until late the next day that Gwaynn cornered Tar Kostek as he was leaving the hall for his own quarters.

“Leek tells me you helped deliver a new colt?” Kostek said as the boy rushed out to meet him.

Gwaynn nodded, brushing the question aside.

“He also tells me you’re working hard. That is good to hear,” the Tar added as he continued to walk.

“Master…” Gwaynn began haltingly, but then decided it was best just to get his question out in the open. “I was wondering if it might not be possible to practice with the students.”

Tar Kostek stopped walking and turned to stare at the boy. Gwaynn held up his hands. “I understand that I can not train with them, but what of practicing. It might do them good to have another person to work with, and I know I could benefit them in some ways,” he said hurriedly, trying to make his entire point before it was summarily rejected.

“Practice with them?” Kostek repeated his voice unconsciously harsh, but his mind played with the idea.

“Just practice…not training,” Gwaynn added, trying to create a distinction between the two with his voice alone, though most of his hope was already beginning to fade.

Tar Kostek stood where he was for what seemed a very long time to Gwaynn. The Tar said nothing, just stood frozen, looking off, out into the night. Finally he started, and looked back down at Gwaynn.

“I’m not sure,” he said slowly. “Let me put it to Tar Amon, and see what he thinks of the idea.”

Gwaynn couldn’t help but let out a loud sigh of relief; his dreams were still alive and intact. Kostek eyed the boy for another moment longer and then continued to his own cabin. “ Practice must not interfere with your duties to Leek,” he shouted back without turning around.

ǂ

Tar Navarra spun and struck, bringing his wooden kata down upon the Deutzani soldier’s left forearm with enough force that the man dropped his weapon, which clattered on the stone floor. Navarra followed it up with a kick to the face for good measure then with practiced ease he turned on the other two soldiers who were his sparring partners by default rather than choice.

Both King Arsinol and his advisor Ja Brude watched with interest, Arsinol from the former throne chair of the Massi, and Ja, one level lower and in a much less ornate chair. Arsinol loved the throne room. It was large, nearly fifty paces across and double that in length, and the ceiling was a full three stories above them. There were three enormous fireplaces, the largest directly behind the King and one on each of the longer walls. Hanging on the walls, covering nearly every inch of space, were large intricately woven tapestries that were both beautiful and functional, as insulation. It was a room fit for a King…a King of two countries.

Navarra moved between the two remaining soldiers, a wolf among lambs. He toyed with them, showing off his skill and though his King believed he could control the man, Navarra made Ja very nervous. The man was too deadly and enjoyed dealing out death a little too readily for Ja’s peace of mind. He watched as Navarra quickly dispatched his other two opponents. It was neatly done, though the Executioner still grimaced a few times when he had to block strong blows with his right arm. He was still feeling pain and not yet fully recovered from his recent injury.