“It was Tar Navarra,” he said evenly, much more calmly than he felt, “the Executioner who killed my mother and sister, the High Executioner for the Deutzani.”
Vio groaned but said nothing, and without a word they all turned and moved back up the beach toward the others.
That night Gwaynn was once again hanging from the awful scaffold in Solarii, the dogs fighting over his mother’s entrails, and Gwynn weeping at his side. But when she turned to him, she was suddenly transformed and it was Mille who gazed at him, a look of horror on her face.
“Keep the dogs away! Please, keep the dogs away.” She pleaded.
IX
It was a full week before Gwaynn and Tar Nev set off toward Mount Erato and the forests of Noble Island. They waited until after Mille’s burial, which was held on an absolutely gorgeous day; spring was coming fast to the islands. Gwaynn stood stone faced next to Leek during the ceremony, while Lane and his family grieved around him. Mari sported a thick white bandage that covered most of the top of her head, but she was recovering nicely. She smiled shyly at Gwaynn several times during the day but he didn’t smile back.
‘No one should be buried on a beautiful day,’ Gwaynn thought, feeling guilty about Mille’s death though the family did not blame Gwaynn for the tragedy, and their goodbyes, though brief, were heartfelt and sincere.
Once on the road Gwaynn said little, which suited Nev just fine. Living alone as he did, he was accustomed to silence and believed most people talked far too much in any case.
Gwaynn rode on Prolly.
“A loan,” Leek had said, telling Gwaynn he could return the mare when he finally left the Island. Nev rode a large strawberry roan named Ardent, who tried to bite Gwaynn every time he got too close.
“Ardent’s not partial to company,” Nev said by way of explanation, so Gwaynn kept his distance. They stopped in Herra for a night and were treated as distinguished visitors. The next morning they left early and entered the forest, the home of the Solitaries. They followed a path barely wide enough to accommodate the horses, and Gwaynn had to constantly watch for low branches that hung over the trail. It was hard and slow riding but within a dozen miles the forest opened into a wide grassy meadow that was set at the foot of the Erato Mountain. On a hill, near a bubbling stream that would eventually become the Parm river, sat a cabin, white washed and brilliant in the late afternoon sun. There was a flower garden to the south and behind Gwaynn saw a corral and a small out building.
Gwaynn frowned when he saw the picturesque, almost feminine setting. Nev noticed his look and chuckled.
“I’m a Solitary, not an animal,” he said with a smile. “The cabin was built almost fifty years ago by the folks of Herra for Tar Chillar, my Master. Now and then they travel up and repair what needs repairing and give it a new once over with paint.”
Gwaynn looked at Nev for a moment then back to the cabin and nodded. “The flower garden?” he asked.
“Oh, I tend to that,” Nev said, as they rode the rest of the way in silence.
“That man,” Nev said, after they had unsaddled the horses and set them to grazing, “on the beach….the Executioner.”
Gwaynn glared at Tar Nev wondering why he would bring that up at this moment.
“I don’t want to ever hear you call him a “Tar” again,” Nev ordered flatly, then pulled two sets of katas from inside the out building and tossed a set to Gwaynn. “And now I will show you why.”
Gwaynn caught the katas out of the air. He was tired from riding all day and a bit hungry, but that did not diminish his desire to discover what skills this Solitary possessed. Gwaynn had been curious about the Tar ever since the Council meeting. Everyone held him in high esteem, but outwardly Gwaynn could not tell why this was so. Nev was well passed middle age, though perhaps not yet old. He was less than average height, almost stocky, with broad, powerful looking shoulders and thick wrists, not someone you would believe possessed any speed or finesse.
Nev led him into the fenced area that Gwaynn had taken for a corral earlier. Inside the dirt was soft and loose. Nev headed toward the center then turned to face his new acolyte.
“Prepare,” he said and it was his only warning, because once Gwaynn raised his katas, the Tar attacked.
Before Gwaynn knew what had happened he found himself on his back, his right kata knocked clean from his grasp and out of the fenced area. Nev backed away as Gwaynn sat up, shook his head clear and stared up at the Tar above him. The sun was setting directly behind Nev’s bushy yellow hair and lit it like some sort of bizarre masculine halo. Gwaynn shook his head again, then stood and gathered in his missing kata. Inside his mind was racing, wondering what had just happened. He said nothing, however, just took up his position and raised his katas; moments later he was disarmed once more and again on his back. Nev walked over and retrieved the missing kata and then helped Gwaynn to his feet. Gwaynn took back his weapon and rubbed his left shoulder where apparently he’d been struck by a hard blow, but he was not aware of when.
“You may attack me this time,” Nev said, bowed and then made ready. Gwaynn returned the bow and then rushed in, but a moment later was disarmed; this time both katas went flying from blows so hard and fast Gwaynn could hardly believe it. He stood utterly still, his mouth hanging open.
“Fetch them,” Nev said. “And attack again if you still find the need.” Gwaynn walked off, thoroughly embarrassed to be doing so. He thought his time on the island had turned him into a somewhat competent fighter, but now his confidence was beginning to waver. When he returned to the center of the corral, he bowed and while consciously holding firmly to his weapons he moved in and attacked once more. This time, however, his attack was much more cautious. The outcome, however, was no different. He was again unarmed with fast, powerful blows and again ended sprawling on his back. Nev reached down to help the boy to his feet.
“I would have killed you on the beach very quickly,” Nev said, “any true Tar would have.”
“How…how,” Gwaynn stammered.
Nev smiled at him. “You are skilled, possibly more than I was at your age, but it takes years and years to earn the title of Tar. The Executioners may well be skilled, and some may take the title of Tars, but they are not and never will be.”
Gwaynn looked down at his empty hands once more. “But how?” He asked not understanding how he could be so easily disarmed, not once but three times.
Tar Nev chuckled.
“That is a secret of the Solitaries, which goes back countless generations, all the way to Galen Dawkins himself. It is a secret I will teach you,” Nev said and slapped Gwaynn lightly on the shoulder. Gwaynn winced and Nev threw back his head and laughed. It was a laugh that Gwaynn would soon get used to, though now at the beginning he found it odd that a Master, a Solitary would find humor in so many things.
“I will tell you that though it is a great secret, at its heart, it is surprisingly simple. But for now, I’m hungry. Let’s eat and we will start you true training in the morning.”
ǂ