Richard Parker: The Black Horseman

“Run!” she gasped, not wanting anyone else to die on her account. The man before her, however, did not follow her request. He did stop walking and as she got closer she had the distinct impression that he was amused by her disheveled appearance.

“Easy Miss,” Gwaynn said, shocked by the wild look of the girl running toward him.

“Did your horse throw you?” he asked but she just ran up to him, fear and anger plain on her face. Then, to his surprised, she ran past him, staggering slightly before collapsing in a heap by the firewood. He turned to look at her, wondering just what she was about, but she said nothing. She was breathing hard, but with great effort she rose to her feet once more. She reached out and pulled the axe free from the log it was wedged in. She used her left hand, keeping her right cradled close to her body. When it was out and in her grasp, she turned to look past him.

“Run,” she yelled again, standing tall, defiant, gripping the axe tightly. She looked fierce…and somehow free, no longer afraid, and despite her grubby appearance she was dazzling to his eyes. Her attention was clearly on something behind him so Gwaynn turned, and there on the bridge coming toward him was the Executioner Navarra. Here, before him now was the man who had killed Gwynn; the man who had killed his mother; the man who killed Mille.

“Run you fool. He’s an Executioner,” Sam shouted to him from behind, wondering why the idiot just stood there.

Gwaynn glanced back at her. “I’m in your debt,” he said and with practiced ease pulled his kali from his belt.

“Don’t fight him you simpleton…run!”

But the young man did not answer and instead of running away he actually moved toward the Executioner. Samantha cringed, but noticed that the Executioner’s eyes were also wide with surprise, and despite his previous anger and obsession with her death, now he no longer even looked her way. His eyes were only for the youth in front of him. It was then that she caught sight of something she never expected to see on that face; the face she knew so well; the face she hated, on his face she clearly saw…fear.

Samantha knew she should run, but instead stood perfectly still, holding the axe.

“Navarra,” the young man said, so softly that she could barely hear him. She glanced down at her bare feet, surprised that she was moving forward.

“Prince Gwaynn,” the Executioner called back. “Do I finally get to end the rest of the Massi family line?”

“I’m afraid not,” the young man answered and suddenly the fighting began.

Sam jumped in spite of herself, watching fascinated, as the two dueled. A door slammed behind her and she glanced back to see an older woman in the doorway watching with horror.

Gwaynn struck with all the normal speed he could muster. He would not use his skills with time against the Executioner. He’d come to that decision long ago; it would be far too dangerous. He would have to kill this man the old way, the slow way. So he attacked, and Navarra parried, dodging and spinning, always just out of range, just blocking the deathblow. They circled one another, Gwaynn always on the attack, Navarra always on defense. The two women present watched the deadly dance without a comment or sound.

“I should have killed you first,” Navarra snarled, backing away from another close call. He tried to counter but it was rejected with such authority that he was quickly put on the defensive again.

“Yes, you should have,” Gwaynn answered, breathing easily as if he was taking a stroll through a park.

Navarra backed away; dimly aware of the women watching…the girl watching.

“I will kill you both when I’m through with him,” he yelled and risked a quick glance at the Fultan girl. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of fear in her eyes, but was disappointed. Her gaze was filled with wonder as she watched the boy in front of her. Navarra grimaced and then caught sight of a kali heading directly at his face. He ducked to the side, but not before his right ear was sliced in two. He howled and staggered back, retreating quickly, ignoring the desire to put a hand to his wound; the blood would make his grip on his weapon slippery, and it was all he could do now to hold onto his kali during the constant ringing the boy was sending through his arms. The Prince had grown strong…very strong.

Gwaynn said nothing, just continued to advance, and as on the beach back on Noble, Navarra realized that he must end this soon. The boy had stamina; the boy had strength and skill. Navarra knew that if he was to win he would need luck or use trickery and guile.

He backed away, trying to give himself time to plan, to come up with an idea. He took another slicing blow along his side, right at his hipbone. He jumped away moving clear, then back pedaling he glanced down at the cut in his shirt. He caught a glimpse of open skin and of blood dripping into the top of his pants. He circled around the back of the house with Gwaynn following. Behind him came the old woman and the Fultan girl, still carrying her pathetic axe. He charged forward, catching the boy off guard, even so his blows were blocked with ease. Navarra managed to push the boy hard with his shoulder, before moving quickly away. There was a large fire pit half way between the house and the forest, though it looked to be burnt out. Navarra caught a glimpse of charred lumber and piles of ash. He backed toward the pit, an idea growing in his mind. Gwaynn followed unsuspectingly.

“I still think of your mother’s screams,” Navarra said, gasping for breath and then had to use every ounce of his skill to block the onslaught that followed. ‘The boy’s inhuman,’ he thought and circled around the pit.

“I should have fucked your sister though,” Navarra taunted, but Gwaynn held back wary of this new tactic. “You were fucking her weren’t you…her nice firm body,” Navarra added. Gwaynn wailed in anger, and rushed in to kill the man once and for all. Navarra kicked out hard into the ash, hoping to blind his opponent if only for a moment. The ash flew high and hard, filled with still smoldering embers, and caught Gwaynn full in the face. Several hot pieces struck him, but he closed his eyes just in time.

Navarra smiled, it had worked better than he had hoped. He quickly moved forward on the attack, knowing he had to end this before the boy could recover. He had him though, he was sure. He rushed forward as the boy backpedaled, blinking furiously and wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, which were now covered in ash and soot.

The boy spun helpless before him. He raised his kali in defense, but his eyes were still blinded and he was blinking, desperately trying to clear them.

“I’m Tar Navarra!” the Executioner yelled and raised his right hand. He dimly heard the Fultan girl scream just as he started the blow that would remove the young Prince’s head. He struck hard; he struck fast. The boy was directly before him, an easy target, but his kali moved only through air and empty space where the boy should have been.

Navarra looked down, thinking the boy must have ducked quickly to the ground, but he was not there.

“You are no one!” A voice said from behind him and Navarra whirled only to see a kali slice through his right wrist. Time slowed for the Executioner then, as he stood and watched his hand fly through the air and land in the grass just beyond the pit. Before Navarra could react another slash and his left kali flew off in the other direction. Navarra raised the stump of his right arm before his eyes, pain swallowing his senses then suddenly the boy was at his throat lifting him up and slamming him hard onto this back, knocking what little wind he had from his lungs.

“Now, you’re just food for my dogs,” Gwaynn whispered into his ear and slammed his right kali up through his sternum and into his heart. Navarra groaned and stared for a moment into the eyes of his enemy. He started to laugh, hiccupped once, blood in his mouth, before dying without another sound.