The Black Horseman Read online

  The Black Horseman (The Temple Islands Series)

  Parker, Richard D.

  (2012)

  * * *

  The Temple Islands Series

  Book One: The Black Horseman

  Book Two: Assassin of the Heart

  Book Three: Elsewhere

  Book Four: The Best of all Possible Worlds

  For my family,

  Guinea pigs to my imagination

  Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Parker

  All right reserved

  The Black Horseman is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Contents:

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  I

  Once thought to be a friend, the sun now revealed its true colors as endless rays of light and heat poured down without mercy or hesitation. The split personality that ruled the heavenly body was exposed, translucent as a rainbow conjured by a prism, artificial beauty and artificial kindness. Cast aside were the times when the sun smiled down upon the boy’s happier days; the sun had become the emotionless torturer, burning and blistering any bare skin it touched. There was no escape, no reprieve and no hope. The sun did not care that the boy was scalded and blazing red. It did not care that he was stripped naked, his skin beginning to bubble or that he was slowly dying of thirst. The sun rained its clean, clear rays down upon the earth with no thought to the boy tied tightly to the scaffolding. The sun cared not that he’d been beaten, scratched, pinched and raped, and as the moments sauntered slowly by, Gwaynn was finding that his cares were also slipping away, carried off with the sunshine.

  The pain in his wrists was now gone, though blood still oozed from the burns made by the ropes that held him. The pain in his shoulders, which an hour ago was excruciating, had fallen off to a dull ache. He hung completely limp, just a bit too short to stand and take his weight from his arms. Earlier, he’d watched as the tips of his toes created small grooves in the dust beneath him, but now, though his eyes were open, his vision was blank. His long dark hair was slick with sweat, and his white skin had begun to change, first to pink and then to an angry red before finally the skin on his shoulders took on an alarming shade of purple. The burn promised exquisite pain…if he lived that long. Gwaynn was no longer sure he would, and surprisingly he cared far less than he had only an hour ago. He was dimly aware of his twin sister, Gwynn, crying softly as she hung next to him, but he did nothing to try and comfort her. She was just as naked, and just as burnt, and though they were both fifteen, she had the luxury of being almost two inches taller, and so could stand on her feet and thus take her weight from her wrists and shoulders, at least up to about a half an hour ago. She was finally tiring, and the pain was knifing through her arms as her legs finally began to give way.

  Gwaynn dimly heard his mother from the far end of the scaffold, speaking softly to his sister. They were the first words any of them had uttered since the Zani had finished with them. The soldiers had taken it relatively easy on Gwaynn, only a few paid him any special attention and that, though painful and mortifying, was over very quickly. His mother and sister, however, were repeatedly raped, sometimes slow, but mostly hard and fast. He knew it was far worse for his sister, who up to now had never known a man. She screamed through most of the first few men before finally falling completely silent in spite of their continued grunts, pokes and prods.

  Now, as she cried, Gwaynn wanted to say something. She was closer to him than anyone in the world, close as only twins could be. He tried to speak, but found that he could no longer raise his head, and when he tried to talk, found that his tongue was swollen and would not work properly, so he gave up the attempt. She’d always been the strong one anyway. She’d been strong earlier as well. Gwynn was the one to challenge the Deutzani soldiers as they entered their private rooms. Gwynn was the one to boldly move forward, while he sat cowering with his mother, who’d held onto him and whispered soft words of comfort.

  ‘Coward,’ his mind shouted as he sat frozen, but still he had done nothing. He hated himself as he watched his twin sister move against the enemy, though it did little good for any of them in the end. The scaffold awaited them all.

  Sometime later he woke and was surprised that he had slept, though still not truly sure he had, except that something was different. The sun had left the courtyard and moved off behind the high walls of the keep behind them. They now hung in the shade, glorious shade, and Gwaynn could not remember feeling anything quite so wonderful.

  Gwynn was no longer crying. Gwaynn tried to lift his head and was surprised when he succeeded. Pain shot through his neck and shoulders, and he gave an involuntary whimper. He looked over at his sister and mother; both hung limply, heads down, their loose hair hiding their faces. Gwaynn painfully glanced around the courtyard. It was not very large, with the keep and main quarters running along the western side, the stables to the south, and the main gate along the eastern wall. At the moment there were only three Zani near the gate. He wondered vaguely where all the other soldiers had gone, and a ray of hope went through him that perhaps his father and older brothers were not dead, as was reported, but were in fact leading an army back to rescue them all. Hope fled as he watched the soldiers come to attention as a man rode through the gate. He was dark, dressed all in black and he rode upon a black horse. Gwaynn shivered. The dark man was followed by two additional riders, also wearing black and finally by two very large black dogs. At first Gwaynn did not understand, and then he heard his mother begin to cry.

  As the man rode closer, Gwaynn could see that his pants and cape were trimmed in red, and at last he understood. This man was an Executioner from the Temple Islands. This man was death; this man was the Black Horseman. Despite his growing fear, Gwaynn studied him closely as he rode slowly around them and over to the stables, once there he dismounted. His companions followed him and likewise dropped from their horses. Gwaynn watched them from the corner of his eye, unable to turn his head farther without a great deal of pain. One of the men took the reins from the Executioner and led all of the horses into the stables. The other man leaned against one of the wooden posts supporting the roof, and watched as the man from the Temple Islands walked slowly toward the scaffolding, the dogs following eagerly behind him.

  The man moved without hurry, around to the front of what was left of the Massi royal family. He glanced only briefly at Gwaynn, his eyes lingering for a long time on Gwynn before they finally moved to his mother.

  “My name is Tar Navarra,” he said just above a whisper, and Gwaynn could hear the pride in it. “Are you the Lady Marie Addent Massi?”

  Gwaynn’s mother said nothing, but the Executioner seemed unconcerned.

  “Are you the Lady Marie Addent Massi?” he asked again. But again, no one answered. The man’s eyes went back to Gwynn, moving slowly along the soft lines of her body. Gwaynn saw that his sister was now awake and watching everything intently, but she made no move or sound, like a rabbit stilled by the gaze of a wolf. The Executioner threw back the right side of his riding cape and slowly drew a single kali from its scabbard. In all, the weapon was perhaps three and a half feet in lengt
h and about three inches in width at the base. It was tapered to a point that looked needle sharp. The kali was the primary weapon of the Temple Islands and was almost always used in pairs. Even now, some debated whether the weapon was a long knife or a short sword but such conjecture did not cross the minds of any of the people hanging before the Executioner.

  Gwynn’s breathing became loud and shallow as Tar Navarra’s eyes found hers for a moment before mercifully moving back to her mother’s.

  “Are you the Lady Marie Addent Massi?” he asked for the final time.

  Still Gwaynn’s mother said nothing.

  “Yes…yes, she is the Lady Marie Addent Massi,” Gwynn blurted, hoping that the fact that they were royalty made all of this a mistake somehow. “I’m her daughter, the Lady Gwynn, and this is Gwaynn, my brother.”

  Gwaynn stared at his sister, amazed at her courage, but he still felt in his heart that it would do no good. This man planned to kill them all.

  Lady Marie said nothing, did not even acknowledged the outburst. The Executioner looked over at Gwynn and smiled slightly for just a moment.

  “She was the Lady Marie Addent Massi,” he said, his voice slow and soft as a baby’s sigh. “Now,” he continued, glancing again at Gwynn, “she is just food for my dogs.” Then with an unhurried motion he drew his blade along the Lady Marie’s midsection, low on the stomach below her belly button and just above her protruding hipbones. A thin line of blood instantly appeared behind the blade as if drawn there. Tar Navarra stepped neatly back and to the right so that he now stood directly in front of Gwynn. He watched the young girl’s face closely. At first nothing happened.

  “Aaaaah,” the Lady Marie said seconds after being cut. It was not a sound of pain, and in fact, she felt very little, but more a sound of surprise and wonder. Blood was running freely now over her pubic area and down the front of her thighs, then suddenly her intestines bulged out of the cut. They held for a moment but then streamed out of her, uncoiling rapidly at her feet, the fluid turning the dust to mud.

  “Aaaaaah,” she said once again, as the Executioner took another small step back to avoid the mess. The Lady Marie looked up at him briefly, feeling very light, but still she felt no real pain. She looked down once more at what used to be her innards. Tar Navarra nodded to the dogs and they immediately moved forward and began to feed. The Executioner watched as Gwynn’s face became as mask of fearful ugliness and she began to scream. He sighed in disappointment and turned his attention back to the Lady Marie, who was watching the dogs with an almost fascinated expression on her face. She watched, making no sound, until slowly the light began to leave her eyes and her head slumped between her arms and she saw no more.

  The Executioner just stood and watched as the dogs tore into, and began to devour the Lady Marie’s bowels, and all the time he said nothing. The dogs growling and eating were the only sounds to be heard in the courtyard…besides Gwynn’s screaming. The gruesome sight before her was too much to take with a calm demeanor, no matter what her courage. She barely noticed as the Executioner stepped closer to her, but her screams stopped abruptly as he reached out and began to stroke her left breast. His hand lingered a while then moved down her side and cupped her buttocks before moving slowly upward again. His thumb teased Gwynn’s dark nipple which stood out against her flawless skin. As he played, the Executioner smiled slightly, his eyes moving reluctantly from the nipple to stare into Gwynn’s intense green eyes.

  Gwaynn watched helplessly, hoping his sister would find someway for them to get out of this nightmare.

  ‘Perhaps if she let him’…he considered but then shook his head to chase the thought away.

  “Please,” Gwynn whispered to the Executioner, almost like a lover. He smiled gently at her and then quickly slashed her throat just below the jawbone. Her eyes went wide with surprise as she stared at him. He stared back, still smiling and still stoking her breast as she tried and failed to draw another breath. She turned her face to Gwaynn, her eyes wide with panic. Her mouth was open, gulping, and Gwaynn could tell she was desperately trying to take a breath. He was breathing rapidly, as if he could somehow breathe for the both of them, but it did not work. He watched her struggle, all the while acutely aware of his disappointment in her. She was the strong one. She won at everything she did, yet somehow she had failed to save the two of them. Gwaynn was shocked, dismayed and above all, disappointed.

  Tar Navarra also watched as she struggled for air and was still stroking her bloody nipple as she died.

  Gwaynn hung motionless, and stared at his sister, shock keeping him still and silent as Tar Navarra moved in front of him. The man smiled at him, but Gwaynn was paying very little attention. His mind screamed at him, Gwynn is dead! Gwynn is dead! Gwynn is dead, over and over again.

  “You are the Prince Gwaynn Massi?” the dark man asked in an almost friendly way.

  Gwaynn said nothing, just nodded his head weakly. He cared very little now what happened to him, half of his soul was gone; the half he loved the best. He barely noticed what was going on around him and did not notice that the Executioner’s eyes were a bright blue.

  “Good,” the man whispered, and began to raise his kali. He stopped abruptly as an arrow shot through the air and struck him in the right shoulder knocking the wind out of him, the force of the blow hurling him to the ground. A second later a dog yelped and then another, then the courtyard was suddenly alive with Massi soldiers. Gwaynn tried to turn his head to see what was going on, but his muscles betrayed him. He was actually surprised when the ropes holding his wrists to the scaffold were cut and his arms were free to fall. Pain and relief coursed through his shoulders. He would have fallen had he not been caught by strong arms. He was lifted seemingly without effort and thrown up over a broad shoulder. Gwaynn sighed and then gasped as the man beneath him began to run, though he headed not out of the stronghold, but back toward the keep. Gwaynn used his remaining strength to glance up. His eyes riveted on his dead sister’s naked body, the scene bobbing this way and that as he was carried away.

  The man beneath him ran quickly, followed closely by several other soldiers. Someone behind was shouting orders, but the man carrying him never paused and just continued to run, not even slowing as he hit a flight of stairs. Gwaynn knew that the man had to be Lancer Karl, easily the largest and strongest man Gwaynn had ever met. And though Gwaynn was thin and only weighed one hundred and fifteen pounds he was sure no other man could sprint across the courtyard and up three flights of stairs while carrying him. These thoughts were dim as Gwaynn hung limply over the man’s shoulder, numb to everything around him. He was only vaguely aware of the fact that they had burst into his father’s private rooms.

  “Traveler, now’s the time,” Gwaynn heard his father’s Weapons Master, Afton Sath say, but could he not see him. “Is the Prince alive?”

  “We got to him in time…the Queen and the Princess…” Karl began, but stopped as Gwaynn let out a sob.

  “Put him down while the Traveler works…make it fast man…” Afton Sath spat as Karl lowered Gwaynn into one of the oversized chairs.

  “Let’s bar the door,” Gwaynn heard and opened his eyes. His head hurt, as did his arms, and he was dizzy, but still he watched as they pushed anything they could find in front of the one door to the room. Then he turned his attention to the Traveler. He had met a Traveler once during a dinner held by his father, but he had never watched one work before. They were very rare, and very expensive.

  Gwaynn watched as the man hummed quietly to himself while moving his hands and arms about in a strange, exotic pattern. Master Sath suddenly stepped in front of him and blocked his view.

  “Master Sath…” Gwaynn croaked and nearly began to cry from the gratitude he felt for this man, but he fought it down.

  “Hush lad. Karl get him some water and find him something to wear,” Sath ordered and then turned around as sounds were heard on the stairs outside the barricaded door. Karl brought the water and Gwaynn drank it g
reedily from the dipper. He had forgotten just how thirsty he was, and it revived him greatly.

  Sath moved over closer to the door. “Hurry man,” he barked at the Traveler, who showed little sign of increased speed. The man seemed oblivious to his surroundings as Karl brought Gwaynn one of his father’s shirts and a blue cape to wrap up in.

  Gwaynn dressed himself slowly, most his attention on the Traveler, whose hands were still busy, carving intricate patterns into the air before him. Gwaynn could now make out a blue-green sheen in the air as it slowly expanding directly before the Traveler.

  “Hurry” Sath yelled again as several loud bangs rattled the door. The Traveler paid the distractions no mind, but he began to weave his arms about faster. If there was a pattern to the movement of the Traveler’s hands, Gwaynn was unable to recognize it. The blue-green color in the air grew brighter and a shimmer began to appear, but everything was out of focus. The air in the room seemed to move and crackle, as the banging at the door became harder and more insistent. Everyone in the room remained quiet. Karl was holding a large wardrobe in place before the door, pushing all of his considerable weight against it. Master Sath helped him, but half his attention was on Traveler.

  The shimmer suddenly became round and Gwaynn could make out a landscape in the center of the room, a landscape with green grass in the foreground, then what appeared to be a small town in the distance and finally the sea beyond. The Traveler’s arms continued to weave a tapestry in the air, and the scene in the bubble grew more focused. The sun was just setting in the bubble as the scene finally cleared.

  The latch at the door finally gave way to the continuous barrage place upon it, and with a lurch the door moved inward a few inches.

  “Travel,” shouted the Traveler and Karl looked quickly over to Master Sath, who nodded. Karl immediately released the wardrobe moved across the room and scooped up Gwaynn into his arms. Without a word, or a look back, he moved to and through the bubble. Gwaynn had never traveled in such a way before and he was surprised when all the hair on his arms stood on end; he could even feel the hair at the nape of his neck do likewise. He felt a slight resistance, for just a moment, like the two of them were walking through a film of warm water, then his ears popped, and they were through to the other side. Karl ran nearly twenty paces in the grass and then stopped and turned. He set Gwaynn on the ground, who was surprised to see that the bubble existed here in the meadow before the town just as it had back at the keep. In the bubble, Gwaynn saw his father’s favorite room, and off to one side the Traveler, who was still concentrating, and Master Sath.