Gwaynn looked out over the island and said nothing for a very long time as he considered this new possibility. The idea definitely had a certain air of attraction. “Where…which one will you…?”
Nev laughed. “I’m not sure and will be surprised if I have much control over the choice. I’ll go to the first attractive place which presents itself…somewhere with no people…or very few, would be ideal…just somewhere else. Of course it may not happen as I’d like the first time, but if not; I’ll keep at it until I’m satisfied with the result.”
“But then…Galen says if you leave there is no coming back.”
“That’s what’s said, though he also teaches that there are an infinite amount of worlds nearly identical to this very one. Who knows, I may get lonely.”
They again sat in silence for a time, before Tar Nev patted Gwaynn on the shoulder. “Come I’m getting tired and hungry. Not even I can slow time indefinitely.”
Gwaynn stood. “The High King?”
Nev shrugged. “This is your world now. You must do what you think is necessary,” the Tar answered then smiled. “But just because I have failed you, doesn’t mean you will not find allies on Noble Island. While you’re here you should pay a visit to Herra.”
They moved down the mountain quickly, Gwaynn watching his old master closely as time continued to crawl along. Nev showed no real sign of weakening, but Gwaynn noticed that beads of sweat were beginning to form on the back of his neck. When they stepped back into the cabin, Nev staggered a little but then made his way to the table and sat down. Gwaynn noticed his hands were shaking slightly and once they were both in position time instantly began to flow around them once more.
Tar Nev immediately began to eat ravenously as Gwaynn poured him a big glass of juice. Tarina Monde frowned still eating heartily herself, and gave Gwaynn a questioning look.
Gwaynn shrugged. “After we eat we’ll be moving down to Herra.” He told her. Monde was old enough and wise enough not to say anything more.
IV
The Executioner Ira Lacombe passed through the final checkpoint into Manse thoroughly impressed by the preparations the Massi people were making to face down the Temple Knights. He smiled.
‘Good King Mastoc is in for a very rude surprise,’ Lacombe thought with immense satisfaction. He waited patiently as the fourth sergeant of the day reviewed his recommendation from Paolo Carnetti. He’d managed to cross a bridge over the Scar River and climb to the Plateau before coming to another checkpoint between two newly constructed fortresses. The design of the two baileys was simple but would be very effective, especially when taken together and at the very rim of the Scar.
The man before him was of average height but with large broad shoulders, thick forearms and massive hands. He studied Lacombe’s papers thoroughly before looking up directly into the Executioner’s eyes.
“Horseman?” he asked, and again the Executioner shook his head. The Massi were apparently desperate for men skilled on a horse, and there was little doubt as to why.
The Sergeant shrugged. “Leave your horse with the stable master. He’ll give you a certificate of ownership but the beast will be utilized how Captain Tanner sees fit.”
Lacombe nodded, expecting such a move; still it did nothing to alter his growing stress level. He realized that after he killed de Baard escaping Manse would be far from easy. And he had to act quickly, before the High King arrived. Once the battle ensued, escape across the plains would be nigh impossible.
“I was told to ask for Lee Brandt,” Lacombe said outwardly calm, and the Sergeant nodded.
“He’s farther up on the Plateau to the east observing the battalion drills,” the Sergeant informed him then waved at a young man who quickly ran over.
“Markow, take…Mr. Banks over to the stables then out to Captain Brandt.” The young man nodded and smiled at the Executioner, who returned it. They immediately started off and moments later Lacombe was short one horse with only a small chit of paper to show for his trouble. He was still shaking his head as Markow led him around the last of the new buildings and out onto the normally empty expanse of the Plateau.
Lacombe’s mouth fell open, because instead of being empty, the surrounding Plateau now contained what appeared to be an entire army in training. Lacombe stopped walking and just stared for several long minutes. To the west were vast groups of archers, some practicing their marksmanship, while others moved about with long halberds, rapidly shifting through a variety of formations. Farther out on the Plateau the Executioner caught sight of large masses of cavalry also working on formations, largely against other cavalry, and then to the east was a great mass of infantry, some heavy, some light, all working through a host of drills.
“We’ll be ready,” Markow said with obvious confidence and pride.
And for the first time Lacombe did not doubt it and even wondered who would fill the vacuum of power if the Temple Knights were destroyed. Sinis Island could very well come to rule the whole of the Inland Sea in his lifetime. It was a heady thought and not one Lacombe would have entertained even a few moments prior to his arrival on the Plateau.
“There’s Brandt,” Markow said and led the Executioner toward the largest man Lacombe had ever seen. He had his back to them, watching over a group of heavy infantry working with long pikes, but turned as they approached.
“New man, Banks,” Markow said nervously, clearly intimidated by the large Captain. He left almost immediately while Brandt eyed the new man closely.
“You good with those?” He asked, indicating the kali at the Executioner’s waist.
Lacombe nodded.
“You have a first name?”
“Ira.”
“Well Ira,” Brandt said and pointed east and a little north, back toward the Scar. “I’ll have you join Logan’s group, Weapons Master Logan. He’ll evaluate your skill and decide what unit you’ll be assigned to in the end. He’s working over there.”
Brandt moved along with Lacombe. “You know what you’re getting into here?” The large Captain asked.
Lacombe nodded. “But of course,” he answered, but then stopped walking and talking at the very same moment. Brandt moved past him a bit before realizing the new man was no longer at his side. Instead Lacombe was standing and watching a woman in the distance as she spun and attacked then spun and retreated, deftly fending off three opponents as a half a dozen soldiers watched.
‘Tarina de Baard,’ Lacombe thought to himself. She was good and as he watched her spinning gracefully about he realized just how good. She was very, very good. Her death would not be easy, but it must be soon. Lacombe did not want to stay among the Massi any longer than necessary. He had a strong suspicion that it would be very unhealthy to do so.