He sat on the stump of a log, adjusting his kali so that he could sit comfortably. He had decided it was time to wear the weapons proudly, after all he was not subject to Deutzani law, and nor would his people be for long, if he got his way. He needed to find Afton Sath. He knew this. Gwaynn, while he may be very good at fighting, knew that there was a vast difference between single combat and leading an army. He needed someone who knew the tactics of large scale fighting, and the only person left from the old days was Master Sath. Gwaynn had read up on military tactics as much as possible while on Lato, but reading and doing were very different endeavors. Gwaynn decided he would wait for his old teacher here. It was as good a place as any, and better than most. He only hoped that his father’s old Weapons Master had been busy gathering as many men to him as possible. Gwaynn was impatient to get started. He glanced up alarmed when he heard the pounding of approaching horses. He could see a faint dust trail but little else behind the thick hedges. He stood, and began to move slowly toward the bridge that spanned the creek. He moved warily, not wanting to be caught in open by a large patrol of Deutzani cavalry.
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Bull pounded away from Koshka with all the speed and power he could muster. He sensed the fear in his rider and it opened within him new pockets of energy. But Bull was built more for power than speed, and could feel in his hooves that the horse behind was closing steadily. Bull pressed harder. He hated to lose.
Samantha couldn’t help but glance back regularly as they fled. She thought about trying to use the bow, but knew it was not very likely that she would hit anything, and much more likely she would fall from Bull. If that happened she knew she was dead, so she hung on, crouched down low, and shouted encouraging words into Bull’s ear. She did draw her knife, holding it tightly in her right hand, mindful not to cut into the neck of the horse charging beneath her.
She glanced back and was alarmed to see that the Executioner was only a dozen lengths behind. His black cape was billowing out from the back of his galloping horse, whose eyes were wide with excitement; their prey finally so close.
Sam turned back and ducked her head low.
“Come on Bull,” she yelled and kicked him, though not nearly hard enough for the horse to notice at this point. She spotted a row of hedges which lined the road up ahead and briefly considered veering off into another direction, but there was a creek to the south and crossing it at a gallop would be very dangerous and to the north was nothing but open country. She hesitated, undecided until it was too late and she was between the thick rows of tall bushes. Some part of her mind told her the way was pretty, and she had to bite down a laugh at the thought, not wanting to become hysterical.
She risked a glance back and nearly screamed when she saw the gray face of the horse chasing her even with Bull’s rump. They had gained so fast. Fear now gripped her so hard that tears formed in her eyes blurring her view ahead. She blinked rapidly and that, plus the rush of the wind, allowed them to clear. She was suddenly aware that the Executioner was now pounding down the lane next to her. They were close, necessarily so, for the lane was not overly wide, only little more than a large wagon’s width and on either side the thick hedges hemmed them in.
The Executioner reached out, attempting to grab her. She screamed and kicked at him but only caught air then the horses moved closer and she felt the fingers of the killer brush against her sleeve. She leaned away and kicked out hard again, this time connecting solidly with the gray horse under him. It shied away, nearly going into the hedgerows. She heard the man racing next to her grunt as he held up an arm to ward off the stray branches that whipped at him in passing. His horse veered back toward the middle of the lane, and this time pulled ahead. He reached out again in an attempt to grab Bulls reins. Sam was on the verge of panic when she caught sight of the knife in her own hand. She swiped out at the man bent on killing her. She missed and he quickly became aware of the danger, even still he reached out again, relentless. She swung the knife once more, but this time he pulled back quickly and struck, hitting her in the forearm hard enough that she dropped the knife. She looked back for it in dismay but it was gone in a flash. Her arm was tingling from his blow and when she tried to grip the reins again pain shot through her. She cried out, pounding down the lane now with one hand.
‘It’s coming to an end,’ she thought as the Executioner once more pulled slightly ahead and leaned over to grab Bull’s reins. If he succeeded she was done for, so she jerked Bull’s head away and he veered close to the nearby hedge. It was her turn to be whipped and lashed by stray branches. She yelped in pain as a particularly nasty branch caught in her hair pulling her head back so hard she was nearly unseated. Somehow she held on with her left hand and in a split second, a good quantity of her hair gave way and was ripped from her scalp.
The move had opened a bit of space between the horses. The Executioner was still slightly ahead, when anger finally surged through Samantha. She reached down and grabbed the reins with her right hand, ignoring the pain, and steered Bull sharply into the other horse. Bull reacted quickly, almost as if he grasped what she intended to do. He turned and charged directly at the horse to his right. And before his rival could react, he struck the smaller, lighter horse, driving him and his rider to the right. They all hit the hedgerow hard and they all came to an abrupt halt. Sam was thrown over the top of Bull, who was falling. She flipped and hit flat on her back, hard, and everything went black.
Screams of a dying horse rang in her ears as she painfully sat up. She was facing the way they were running and she could see a break in the hedgerows up ahead and the corner of a bridge leading south. The screams continued as she tried to clear her head. She glanced back. Bull was up and moving, but he was not using his right front leg. She thought of her bow, but he was hobbling away from her. It was the Executioner’s horse that was screaming. The animal was lying deep in the hedges, a thick branch sticking through its belly. The horse kicked and screamed in obvious agony. There was no sign of the Executioner, but Sam didn’t wait for him to appear and slowly climbed to her feet. Surprisingly everything seemed to work, at least until she tried to make a fist with her right hand. Pain shot up her arm and she desisted, then holding the injured limb close to her body she began to move farther up the lane toward the bridge.
‘If I can get to the forest...if Uncle Sath is at the ranch,” she thought and began to run. Behind her came a great crash in the brush, and despite herself she stopped and turned.
Near his dying horse the Executioner struggled out of the hedges. His face was torn and scratched in a half dozen places, and he had a wild look in his eyes as he peered down at his dying horse.
“Killed another one bastard!” Sam yelled at the top of her lungs, her chest heaving from exertion. She hated the man before her like no other, and wanted to deliver as much pain as she could before he finally killed her.
The Executioner looked up at her, clearly dazed and then he slowly drew his kali. She didn’t wait around, but turned and ran as quickly as she could away from him. He chased after, no longer thinking of his dignity, no longer thinking that an Executioner need never hurry. His only thought was that this girl must die!