Among the Dead and Dying

by A.R. Wise

  * * *

  Saffi rattled her chains and stood in defiance as the marauders forced their prisoners to sit in a large circle. Her father was beside her, and he pleaded with his daughter to sit down.

  “No, I’m not going to let them do this.”

  The Northland Marauders had used the chains from the prisoners’ wagons to cuff the survivors. They’d spent the day marching out across the Steel Plains, off the paths and out into the wilderness. The hills were taller here, rockier and less forgiving to the wagons, delaying their progress although Saffi wasn’t sure where they were headed. Once the sun had started to set, the marauders decided to make camp, and now they were going to entertain themselves.

  A marauder was behind Saffi, and pushed her back down to the ground hard. It was Tye, the smug little bandit that had found Ward’s armor when the caravan was first set upon. “Sit down, girly.”

  “I’m not going to let you do this,” said Saffi, furious, disgusted, and horrified by what was about to take place in the middle of the circle they’d been forced to create.

  Tye pressed his boot down on Saffi’s wrists, causing her shackles to bite into her skin. She cried out in pain, but the bandit didn’t ease the pressure. “Sit down and shut up, or I’ll cut your tongue out and spare us all your whining.”

  “Saffi, you need to stop fighting with them,” said Ward, his tone desperate.

  “They’re going to make them kill each other,” said Saffi. She’d seen what they did to the prisoners, and knew the same was about to happen to the First-Swords that had been forced to march alongside the caravan out to here. The guards had been stripped of their clothes and weapons, and were now standing nude over by the prisoners’ wagons. All of the surviving merchants and prisoners who’d survived the fights in the wagons had been chained together to create this circle. The only people left out of the circle was a young thief, thegn, and prophet who Saffi saw watching from a nearby wagon.

  Gandry was among the First-Swords who’d been stripped of their clothes and their pride. The surprise attack had stolen the Swords opportunity to fight, and everyone had expected the Northland Marauders to simply collect a tax and move on instead of kidnapping the entire caravan. Gandry had tried to convince his fellow Swords to fight off the marauders once their intention was revealed, but no one else was willing, and he was forced to lay down his sword. Now he was standing with the others, each of them covering their privates and waiting for the bandits to finish preparing for the night’s festivities.

  Hammer walked into the center of the circle, and hushed the crowd. His golden hair looked red in the firelight as he staggered drunkenly. One of the merchants was transferring a load of mead that belonged to a Third-Brewer in New Carrington, and the marauders had quickly pierced the casks and taken their fill. It was during their drinking that one of them had decided to set up the night’s entertainment, and the prisoners were forced to capitulate.

  “Quiet, you filthy trouser stains,” said Hammer. He was shirtless, revealing his hairy chest and strong midsection. The crowd jeered, and he yelled out louder, “I said quiet! Nine have mercy, this lot’s louder than whore house with the ships in. You want a fight, right?” The crowd hollered out their approval, but Hammer pretended like he couldn’t hear them as he cupped his hand beside his ear and turned in a circle. “I can’t hear you. I asked if you wanted a damn fight!”

  The crowd screeched louder, and mead flowed over the rim of their cups, raining down on the shackled prisoners beneath them.

  “Pitt says I’m too drunk to fight,” said Hammer. “He says I can barely keep myself up. What do you think? You think I can fight?”

  He received a mix of jeers and cheers.

  Saffi looked down, refusing to take part in this. The crowd was so loud that it drowned out most of what Hammer was saying, but then she heard, “…pick. Go ahead. I don’t care. You pick which one, and I’ll beat him down. I’ll let you pick.”

  “Make this one pick,” said Tye from behind Saffi before he slapped the top of her head. “Make her pick!”

  Ward rattled his chains, but was held down by another marauder. “No, don’t. Don’t!” Someone struck down at him with the handle of a weapon, hitting her father hard on the top of the head as he commanded him to be quiet.

  Tye had gotten Hammer’s attention, and the drunk man was walking over their way. “This one?” asked Hammer when he stood in front of Saffi. “Why her?”

  “Because she’s throwing a fit,” said Tye. “She thinks we’re mean. She doesn’t want you to fight one of her Swords.”

  “You scared?” asked Hammer as he knelt down in front of Saffi.

  She refused to look up at him, but then he reached out and took her by the neck. Ward yelled out in protest, but the marauder behind him slipped a blade across his throat and forced him into submission at risk of his life.

  “Look at me, little nymph,” said Hammer as he easily gripped Saffi’s neck and chin with just one of his big, dirty hands. “Do I scare you?”

  Saffi still wouldn’t answer.

  “Unlock her,” said Hammer to Tye. “We’ll let her choose which of those boys get beat down tonight.”

  “I won’t,” said Saffi. “You can’t make me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I can think of a hundred ways to make you do whatever I say, little one.” Hammer was amused by her feisty response, and was then inspired. “Listen, I’ve got an idea. I’ll let you pick one of those Swords, and all he’s got to do is knock me down and I’ll call him the winner. Got it? That’s it. He’s just got to knock me down once and he wins. Want to know what he wins? Look at me.” His anger came out suddenly and viciously as he squeezed Saffi’s neck and shouted, “Look at me! That’s right. That’s a good girl. You want to know what he’s going to win if he can knock me down? He’ll win his life. Yeah, that’s right. And you want to know what’ll happen if you don’t pick someone? I’ll go ahead and pick for you, and whoever I pick won’t get the same deal. I’ll kill them no matter what.”

  “I’ll fight you,” said Ward.

  Saffi became suddenly frightened as she turned to her father and said, “No!”

  “You want a good fight,” said Ward, “then pick a good fighter. You know I was a Sixth-Sword. I’ll give you a better fight than any of those First-Swords.”

  Hammer stood, intrigued.

  “No,” said Saffi. “I’ll pick. Let me pick.”

  “Let me fight him, Saffi. I can knock him to the dirt. There’s no doubt in my mind.” Ward was staring down the Northland Marauder’s leader, daring him to fight.

  “I’ll pick!” Saffi stood, free of the chains, and pulled away from Tye’s grip. She grabbed at Hammer, doing everything she could to get his attention off of her father. “I’ll pick someone to fight you.”

  “All right, little one, you can pick” said Hammer, although it looked like he was still considering a fight with Ward as he stared down at the First-Baker curiously. “But I might take you up on your offer sometime, Sixth-Sword.”

  “Any time,” said Ward.

  “Any time?” asked Hammer before glancing up at the marauder standing behind the Sixth-Sword. “Even after what happened to your leg?”

  Ward didn’t know what he meant and asked, “My leg?”

  Hammer nodded at the marauder behind Ward, and the man reached over with a dagger and plunged it deep into Ward’s right calf. The baker cried out in anger and pain as his daughter screamed out in protest. Saffi tried to go to her father, but Hammer grabbed her by the arm and tossed her into the middle of the circle.

  “I’m okay, Saffi,” said Ward through clenched teeth.

  She looked back at her father with concern, and then started to walk out of the circle and in the direction of the gathered First-Swords. They were in a line, some standing strong and proud while others cowered. Gandry was among the confident ones, although she wasn’t sure if it was just bravado or if he thought he could take Hammer down.

  She approac
hed her friend and they exchanged a glance that she was certain meant that he wanted to be picked. “Can you?” she asked, her heart thumping as she forced herself not to think about what she was volunteering him for.

  He nodded and whispered to her, “They called me Gandry the Bull for a reason. Let me take him down. I’d love to do it.”

  Saffi turned to Hammer and said, “Get him some clothes at least.”

  “This the one you’re picking?” asked Hammer before laughing and turning to the crowd. “She picked this one! He’s not going to last three seconds. Someone get the kid some clothes so that he’s not too embarrassed when I beat him into pulp and bone.”

  “You’re sure you can do this?” asked Saffi of Gandry while the Northland Mauraders captain boasted.

  “I am,” said the young First-Sword. He was trying to sound bold, but his concern showed through.

  The bandits took him away, and Saffi was led back to her spot in the circle. She was chained up again, beside her father.

  “Are you all right?” asked Saffi as she looked at the blood that now sopped his leggings.

  “I’m fine,” said Ward. “The blade barely cut me.”

  She could tell by the amount of blood that he was lying.

  “I’m sorry about all of this,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to pick your friend for this.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Gandry can take him down, I’m sure of it. I don’t know how, but I’m sure he’s going to win.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Hammer blustered in the circle, stomping about and raising his hands in the air as the crowd cheered him. They brought him more mugs of mead, and he downed them fast, spilling ample amounts on his hairy chest. Saffi watched and hoped he would keep drinking until all Gandry had to do was push him once to knock him on his rear.

  The bandits brought Gandry to the ring, and he was met with howls of laughter. They’d forced him to wear a dress that they’d found in one of the merchant’s wagons. It was long and formal, and he nearly tripped on it as he made his way into the circle, inciting more peals of laughter. Saffi would’ve felt bad for him if she didn’t know what was coming. He looked over at her, and she could see that he shared her confidence.

  “I didn’t know I was supposed to fight a little girl,” said Hammer. “Should I bend you over, lift your skirt, and plug you up a few times first?” He thrust his hips to mime a rape, and the marauders cried out their approval.

  Gandry was unfazed. He stood tall and proud. When the crowd’s noise ceased, he yelled out at his opponent, “Are you ready, or are you going to stand over there blabbering all day?”

  The crowd let out a chorus of ‘Oohs’, and then started to tease Hammer. They enjoyed the boy’s bravery, and Hammer seemed unaffected by it, even laughing along with the crowd. “He’s got some stones under that dress, I’ll give him that. Well, come on then, little girl. Give me your best shot. I’ll stand here and take it.”

  “Don’t fall for it,” said Ward loud enough for Gandry to hear. The bandit behind him smacked him again with the handle of his weapon as the crowd yelled at him to shut his mouth.

  “You going to take your free shot?” asked Hammer of Gandry.

  The First-Sword stayed where he was and said, “I thought you were the one that had something to prove.”

  The crowd cheered, amused by Gandry’s boastfulness. They were turning on Hammer now, and some of them were even starting to say that they wanted to put pel down on Gandry winning. Hammer’s former cheer faded, and he began to grimace. Saffi saw him falter in his stance, addled by mead.

  Saffi heard her father whispering, “Use his weight against him. Let him come at you, boy. Trip him up and send him to the dirt.”

  Gandry seemed to be following Ward’s advice as he stood on the far side of the circle from Saffi, waiting for the bandit to charge. Hammer started to move slowly around the circle, and Gandry moved with him, staying opposite from him at all times. Hammer started to make sudden jerking movements at the center, as if he were about to charge, but then retreated. Gandry didn’t flinch, and kept moving with Hammer.

  The crowd grew impatient, and they started to scream at Hammer to ‘Get on with it, already.’ Hammer hushed them, and continued his predatory stalk around the ring. “You ready for this, little girl? You want to go home? Run home to mommy?”

  Gandry didn’t reply.

  Hammer finally followed through with one of his feints, and lunged across the divide. Gandry spun, and put his hands down to push Hammer to the side. A moment later Gandry was bouncing away and Hammer thundered off into the gathered crowd, plowing over a prisoner and knocking down some of the onlookers.

  The Northland Marauders laughed at their leader, taunting him and saying that he was losing to a girl. Gandry positioned himself across from Hammer, and was ready for the man’s next attempt.

  Hammer had only avoided falling down because of the people on the side of circle. Had they not been there to catch him, Hammer likely would’ve dove face-first into the earth. Saffi couldn’t help but smile as she realized her decision to pick Gandry was turning out well. Her old friend was a more than capable fighter.

  “You’re a quick one,” said Hammer as he pointed across at Gandry. “Little rabbit. That’s what we’ll call you when you join us, kid. Little Rabbit. How’s that sound?”

  Again, Gandry refused to be goaded into a conversation.

  Hammer dusted himself off as he said, “Little Rabbit. I like the sound of that.” Even Saffi could tell he was feigning nonchalance, and it was no surprise when he rushed at Gandry a second time.

  The First-Sword hadn’t been caught off-guard, and performed an almost identical dodge as he had before. This time Hammer stumbled and almost fell to one knee, barely keeping himself up and then using his momentum to jog around the circle a bit before slowing. Gandry kept up, staying opposite Hammer at all times.

  “You almost got me that time,” said Hammer, but it was clear his former enjoyment with the ordeal had disappeared. He was getting perturbed, and looked weary, ready for this fight to end.

  Gandry smiled, and then beckoned Hammer back for another try.

  Hammer obliged, tearing across the gap with his arms held wide, eager to just get his hands on the boy. Gandry couldn’t spin away from this assault, but he ducked and avoided Hammer’s grasp before turning and striking the big man with a well-aimed shot to the kidney. Hammer immediately curled backward, reaching at his spine in pain before Gandry kicked out at the back of the man’s knee. Hammer toppled, his knee falling first and thudding on the ground. Hammer fell to his side, arched and grasping at the spot where Gandry had hit him.

  The entire crowd cheered, but no one as loud as Saffi. “You did it!” She yelled out to her friend, ebullient and relieved. “I knew you could.”

  Someone in the crowd yelled out, “Little Rabbit.” Then they began chanting the newly earned nickname over and over.

  Hammer stood, pained but smiling, and said, “You did it! I can’t believe it, but you actually knocked me down, Little Rabbit. You earned your life, and worked harder for it than most of these men.”

  Saffi was grinning as wide as she had in weeks, and looked over at her father to see if he was enjoying the moment as much as she was. His eyes were wide and fixed on Gandry and Hammer, and his expression was one of concern. She wasn’t sure why, and looked back at Hammer as the Northland Marauder walked over to congratulate the First-Sword.

  Gandry thought it was over, and reached out to shake Hammer’s hand.

  Hammer took the boy by the arm and pulled him forward before delivering a punishing strike to his neck. Gandry’s feet flew up in front of him as he fell over backward, slamming into the dirt hard enough that everyone could hear his lungs expel all their air.

  Saffi screamed out, “No!”

  Gandry curled up and grabbed at his throat where Hammer had struck him. His eyes were bulging, and his mouth was agape as his lungs searched for br
eath. Hammer took a short celebratory walk around the body of his opponent, and then he reached down and plucked him up by his neck with just one hand.

  The crowd laughed and cheered as he taunted the First-Sword. “What’s the matter, Little Rabbit?”

  Gandry was choking, and all he could do was hold onto Hammer’s wrist for support. His legs were stomping, his body’s unconscious reaction to the trauma.

  “You said…” Saffi started to stand, but Tye forced her back down again. “You said if he knocked you down…”

  Hammer heard Saffi, and brought Gandry over, dragging him along like a child with a stuffed doll. He threw Gandry to the ground, and Saffi could hear her friend finally drawing breath. He gasped and then retched, his eyes still wide with terror as he looked at her.

  Hammer took Gandry by the hair and slammed his face down into the ground before raising it so that Saffi could see the fresh wounds. “What’s that, little girl?” asked Hammer while looking at Saffi.

  “You said you’d let him go if he knocked you down.”

  Hammer again slammed Gandry’s face into the dirt, breaking the boy’s nose so that when he was raised back up again there was a stream of blood gushing out. “What’s that?” asked Hammer, mocking Saffi. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “You’re a liar,” said Saffi. “Leave him alone.”

  “Oh, is he your friend?” asked Hammer, pretending to be sympathetic.

  “Yes,” said Saffi, uncertain what Hammer wanted her to do. Gandry was looking up at her, but his eyes were unfocused globes amid his bloody mask.

  “Ever watched a friend die?” asked Hammer before wrapping his thick arm around Gandry’s throat and squeezing while keeping him facing Saffi.

  She looked away and screamed out for him to stop while Tye tried to force her to watch. She glanced once more, and saw Gandry’s terrified gaze as Hammer squeezed the life out of him. She closed her eyes, now wet with tears, and cried as she listened to Gandry die.

  Hammer finished the deed, and then stood, wiped off his hands, and said, “Good night, Little Rabbit.”