Richard Parker - The Black Horseman

Putal shifted his attention back to Tar Amon and the Council. “Perhaps the decision should be the boy’s. Perhaps we should give him the knowledge he needs to choose and allow him to decide for himself.”

A murmur went up through the crowd and then a gasp as another man stood from the very back of the risers. He moved down and walked around to the front of the Council.

“Tar Nev, Tar Nev,” whispers filtered from the gallery above. Gwaynn frowned and then just gawked at the man. The man bowed to the council once and then turned to study the boy before him more closely. Tar Nev was the most famous Tar of his day, he was also simply the strangest Master Gwaynn had ever laid eyes upon. He was shorter than Gwaynn had expected, but with a full head of long, bushy dirty blond hair. It was not tied back, or even controlled in any way and looked strikingly like a field that a farmer had allowed to go fallow. Not a hair style one would expect to see on any Tar, let alone one of the Masters. His face was slightly grizzled, but he possessed startlingly gray eyes, that almost seemed to glow in the light of the hall. It was his eyes that gave the Master a slightly youthful appearance despite his obvious years.

“I will train Gwaynn,” he said simply and the Hall exploded with shouts, both cheers and protests. Tar Nev was the latest of a long line of Solitary Tars going back generations to Tar Ephs himself. Over three hundred years ago, Ephs, whose skill with weapons was unsurpassed at the time, broke off from the traditional school and refused to teach until very late in his life. He finally took a single exceptional student, who he trained and who likewise grew to dominate every other Tar of his generation, and so it went through the ages. One Tar, one student. Tar Nev, who was said to be the greatest of all the Solitaries, had yet to take a student…..that is, until now.

Both Master Putal and Tar Amon stood speechless, while Endid gazed at Tar Nev with something close to awe. Putal bowed to Tar Nev and without a word slowly turned and moved back to his seat. He knew that if the Solitary Tar had finally made his choice for student, nothing and no one would stand in the way of that decision.

Tar Amon looked at Tar Nev then down to Gwaynn, who was looking from one to the other, just as shocked as the rest of the Hall by this development.

“He is yours to train,” Amon said.

Nev nodded and turned to Gwaynn, who looked up at the strange, infamous man in front of him.

“Come. We will talk a moment,” Nev said and they left the Hall together.

ǂ

Late that evening Gwaynn returned to Leek’s home to collect the few belongings and clothes he now owned. Supper was over, but Shari collected enough leftovers to fill up the growing boy.

“Tar Nev!” Leek said loudly to Gwaynn, his eyes shining with pride. “It was thought that perhaps his legacy would be lost by his refusal to choose an acolyte.”

Gwaynn nodded, but said nothing, his mouth full of bread.

“Tar Nev has come to the Competitions the last twelve years,” Shari added refilling Gwaynn’s cup of cider, “and chosen no one.”

“After last year it was thought that Vio might be chosen, but now…” Leek said and Gwaynn was truly surprised to see a small smile on his face.

“She is very good,” Gwaynn added in between bites, his mind flirting with the thought of his sparring partner and their last encounter, and as always when his mind turned to Vio it invariable slid toward Mille. He had yet to see her since his return.

“Where’s Mille?” he asked blushing, though he tried to sound nonchalant.

Shari smiled. “She’s down on the beach collecting night crabs with Mari.”

Gwaynn nodded and finished his meal as quickly as he could, which even for his age was remarkably fast. He took his leave; anxious to see Mille as soon as possible, wanting to be the one to tell her he would not be leaving the island, though they would no longer be living under the same roof.

He stepped outside, thinking to head directly to the beach, but Master Kostek stood just outside the door.

“Greetings,” Kostek said. “Walk with me a moment Gwaynn,” he added and began to move off toward his quarters.

Gwaynn was a bit impatient, after all he had just spent the day riding back with his old Master, and only a year ago he may have begged off, but now he just took a deep breath and followed. They entered the older man’s quarters and Gwaynn was hit with a wave of nostalgia, suddenly he wanted to see Vio just as badly as he wanted to see Mille.

“Vio is on her way but will be delayed,” Kostek said as if reading the young man’s mind even though his back was still turned.

“I rarely use this set anymore,” he said by way of explanation. “My favorites are a bit longer now, but these were my first,” he added, then turned and removed a set of short, beautiful tapered swords from a leather casing. He handed them to Gwaynn, who held them as if they were treasure. The swords, kali they were called, were about three and a half feet in length though a good foot of that was the grip and pommel. They were highly polished and Gwaynn would have taken them for new except for the few nicks in one of the blades and another on the hand guard.

“I carried these for a long time,” Master Kostek said. “My master presented them to me when I graduated. I would like you to have them now.”

Gwaynn looked up at the man, stunned.

Kostek smiled down at him, though he noticed for the first time that Gwaynn had grown since coming to Noble. “The grips are black sharkskin,” Kostek explained. “It is the best, keeps them from slipping even when your hands become sweaty. I’ve insisted on such grips ever since owning this pair,” he explained, trying to cover the awkward first moments for the young man.

Gwaynn, who had once owned a set far more expensive than these was very moved, and for a moment could not find the words.

“I thank you,” he finally managed, barely above a whisper.

Kostek was surprised to find that he was also becoming emotional. He clapped Gwaynn on the back. “You’ll get some use out of them…do not doubt it.”

Gwaynn agreed with a grim smile then held them out, spinning them about to get the feel of them. They were perfectly balanced and Gwaynn instantly knew that though his old pair may have been bejeweled and laced with intricate carvings, they were infinitely inferior to this pair.

“Thank you,” Gwaynn repeated and made his leave, using the excuse that he still had to gather his things for the return trip to the far side of the island, but he promised to return shortly to say his goodbyes to Vio. Once outside he tucked his new Kali into his belt and quickly moved down the path, which led to the beach.

The moon was up and nearly full, bathing the path in a silvery glow. Wild grasses grew tall on either side of the pathway and seemed to give off a pale yellow light of their own. They swayed softly in the light breeze, which was coming off the sea and nearly hid the small girl from Gwaynn’s sharp vision, but he caught the odd shape out of the corner of his eye and stopped. At first he thought Mari was simply trying to hide from him. But when he left the path, moving toward her, she did not jump up as he was expecting, instead she still lay completely motionless.

“Mari?” Gwaynn said softly, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He stopped above her, but before bending down he carefully took in his surroundings. He thought to call for Mille but remained quiet. Something was not right. Finally he bent. Mari, who was lying face down in the sand, still made no move and with much trepidation Gwaynn reached out and took hold of her shoulder. He turned her over and her arms flayed limply. There was a deep cut in her forehead, which had bled copiously from the look, but it was now just oozing a bit of blood. She was unconscious, but when Gwaynn put a hand to her chest he could feel her heart beating and he sighed with relief.