The Death Wish

by Jules Marks

  Larkin’s expression was troubled. “But you three battled almost five times your number and won the day. Even with their superior numbers, how could the Uplanders hope to defeat Halwick if he has troops such as you three?”

  Hugh’s brow furrowed as he considered his answer.

  “Might I pitch in my two pence worth?” said I.

  Hugh grinned. “Go ahead, Gael.”

  I turned to Larkin. “Well, boy, it’s like this: Sir Hugh might be too modest to explain, and as you weren’t able to see the fight you couldn’t know how it played out. Sir Hugh and Ioan up there…” I gestured towards Ioan, who was out riding point. “…The two of them are worth at least ten of your average knights. Lord Halwick has troops, all right, but he won’t have many who are the likes of these two you’re keeping company with. Heaven help the Uplanders if all of Halwick’s troops were so skilled.” I looked to see Hugh’s reaction to my words: he was shaking his head.

  “What is it? Do you disagree?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “On one point, at least. You speak of modesty on my part, but you forget your role in our little set-to this morning. How many did you kill?”

  I considered it, and realized that Hugh already knew the answer to his own question. “Only two that I know of, though I managed to injure more.”

  Hugh held up a palm. “I killed three, and our bloodthirsty Hydorian up there killed five. Had you not been with us, the story might have ended differently. Take some credit, Gael; Halwick would be glad of more troops like you.”

  I ducked my head at the compliment, and then stole a glance at Larkin’s reaction. He was smiling, and I could already imagine the case of hero-worship he might be developing for his noble comrades. Would he extend that admiration to me? It was hard to imagine for a humble man such as I, but with a knight like Hugh making my case, there was a chance. I couldn’t imagine why I would care one way or another…but I found that I did.

  That evening we stayed in a deserted hamlet. By all appearances it seemed the residents had simply decamped. All livestock and valuables were gone, but the place hadn’t been pillaged: there were no signs of a fight, and the withdrawal had surely been orderly, considering the condition of the place when we arrived. It didn’t take much thought to decide what had happened: the threat from the Uplanders had finally become too great, and the few people in that tiny village decided they couldn’t adequately defend it. It seemed sad to walk away from everything they had worked for: the fields lay fallow; the houses had been taken over by small, wild creatures.

  All of us were sore and weary. Due to our battered conditions, we’d stopped a bit early, so we had some time after supper to sit and relax in the cool, clear twilight. Hugh and I smoked our pipes while Ioan and Larkin played a game of llinx. This was a strategy game played on a board—actually, a rolled up piece of hide marked off in a grid—and it involved moving small bone pieces around to take captive the opposition’s pieces. Both youngsters—there, I’d done it again—were enjoying the match. Each had won a round, and they were playing their final, decisive game. Hugh and I were content to watch: it was good to witness a friendship grow before our very eyes.

  The game ended with Larkin the winner. Ioan laughed at him, and told us all that he had a good reason for losing: he hadn’t played llinx since before Larkin had been born. Larkin, in turn, accepted everyone’s congratulations; he then offered to play Ioan again on the morrow, for then he’d have no such excuse.

  As we settled the horses, I managed to have a private word with Ioan.

  “Thank you, Ioan…for this morning.”

  He turned to look at me; his brows were knit. “For what, Gael?”

  “This morning,” I stammered, “…You saved my life.”

  He shrugged, as if to make light of his actions. “Surely I did not. You would have taken him in the end. I was interfering, of that I’m certain…just a bit too enthusiastic to contain myself, I suppose.”

  I demurred. “No, he was about to kill me. My body would have been burned with the others had not you intervened.”

  Ioan smiled. “Surely not, Gael! No doubt we would have given you a proper burial.” His smile faded as quickly as it had come. “In all honesty, once we were under attack, I could hardly stop myself: I feel this rage, Gael, and I cannot control it. I am ashamed to admit it, but I enjoy myself: I like to fight.” He looked down at the toes of his boots and sighed. “It is a sorry thing to have to confess.”

  I gave his cheek a pat. “For my part, I cannot consider it a fault, for I have just witnessed another sunset, and those unfortunate Uplanders did not.”

  Ioan looked at me. Though melancholy, he tried to shake it off. “Don’t mind me: I’m just a bit low. After all, I hadn’t lost a llinx match in twenty years.”

  “I shouldn’t think that would affect you much: you hadn’t won one either,” was my rejoinder.

  He grinned, gave my shoulder a light punch, and then we walked back to the others.

  <><><>

  The twilight shade was moving from sapphire to indigo; we all knew we would need to stand a watch soon, but the pleasure of our brotherhood’s company made us want to hold back the time just a bit longer.

  Larkin asked Hugh about Halwick. Did he know him personally? What manner of Lord was he that the Uplanders were forever in revolt?

  Hugh seemed happy to oblige Larkin, and as I was relatively ignorant regarding Halwick of Beckman, Hugh decided to enlighten us all.

  Halwick was a cousin of Hugh’s dead father, Denholm. The Lord of Beckman was getting on in years—Hugh couldn’t say just how old he was—and he had enjoyed a long and eventful life full of fighting, traveling, loving, and, yes, fighting some more. He’d settled down at middle age, and had lived for many years as a just and respected liege lord. Halwick’s marriage to Lady Ruess had produced a daughter but no sons. Many a man would have considered this a tragedy, but Halwick did not; instead, he’d treated his daughter as if she were a son. He trained her in arms, and succeeded almost too well. Rebeccah of Beckman was almost as famous as her father. She had fought in several battles, had killed many of the enemy, and had become intimidating enough that no man had yet succeeded in wooing her into a marriage contract. Had her mother lived to see her thus, no doubt she would have been troubled by the turn of events, but the poor woman had died when Rebeccah was a teen, so there was only Halwick to worry about Rebeccah’s marital state…or the lack thereof. The idea of losing his beloved daughter did not appeal to him anyway, so Rebeccah had remained at Beckman.

  “Did Halwick remarry after Lady Ruess died? Did he ever have a son?” I asked.

  Hugh shook his head. “No, he never remarried, so, he has never had a legitimate son…” He left that last bit hanging.

  “But…? There’s more to this, isn’t there?” asked Larkin.

  Hugh smiled and nodded. “I probably shouldn’t tell you about him; it’s always more interesting to see people’s reaction when they meet him…” Again he paused.

  “But…?” Ioan leaned over and gave Hugh a light punch on the shoulder. “Come on. You can’t just mock us and then stop. I don’t know this story: I haven’t seen Halwick in over twenty years.”

  “All right then.” Hugh grinned, and returned Ioan’s punch. “Halwick has a ward, an adopted son…call him what you like. He loves him as if he was his natural-born son, and those feelings are reciprocated by Akimba.”

  “Akimba? What sort of name is that?” I asked.

  “It is a Rwadian name.” He stated that as if we would know what on earth he was talking about.

  Larkin and I looked at each other and shrugged, as if we were each admitting our ignorance.

  Hugh nodded. “Yes, a Rwadian name…from the country of Rwadia.”

  I looked across at Larkin. “Well, that certainly makes everything clear, don’t you think?”

  Larkin’s expression was comical. “Oh, definitely. Rwadia…you know, I’m certain that I’ve heard of it…being such a famo
us place and all…but it’s somehow slipped my mind.” He put a hand to his head wound. “Must be my muzzy head. Rwadia? No, I can’t place it just now…”

  “Enough,” laughed Hugh. “Hush, and I’ll explain. Rwadia is a nation far south…across the Sacrett Sea. I told you before that Halwick traveled extensively; Rwadia was one of those far-flung places he visited.”

  “And he just happened to bring back a son?” That was Ioan’s question.

  “It wasn’t quite that simple. Halwick was on a ship during his travels in Rwadia when a terrible storm hit. The ship wasn’t large, and the storm was so violent, it seemed certain they would sink and drown. As if the threat of sinking wasn’t bad enough, the ship was struck by lightening, and a fire began to consume the upper portions even as the waves were flooding the lower levels. Halwick, being the type of man he is, tried to keep people calm, but there was really nothing he could do to help himself or anyone else. As the ship began to sink, Halwick knew that all he could do was to try to avoid being sucked under with it. He had just decided to jump overboard when he recognized a small boy he’d seen several times during the voyage. The boy, Akimba, had always stood behind his father’s robes when he and Halwick conversed; Akimba had shyly peeked out at Halwick and smiled, but had never spoken. Now, the boy was crying pitifully; he obviously had been separated from his parents, for they were nowhere in sight. Halwick knew that to stay on board meant almost certain death, so he rushed to the boy and gathered him in his arms. ‘Akimba, where is your father?’ he shouted over the din. ‘Burned…dead!’ the boy sobbed in answer. In that second, Lord Halwick made his decision. He told Akimba to hold on, and then he jumped out and away from the side of the ship and began to swim as the ship turned, rolled, and slipped under the waves.”

  “How did they survive?” It was obvious that Larkin had been pulled into the story. He was leaning forward, eyes wide, waiting for what would happen next.

  “They latched onto some of the debris and held on for dear life. Fortunately, it was summer and the waters that far south are warm. They were in the water for almost three days before a passing ship spotted them and picked them up. Halwick says Akimba kept him alive; Akimba swears that the reverse is true. Regardless, the two formed a bond, and as Akimba had been orphaned, Halwick decided to bring him back to Beckman with him. It took Lady Ruess a little while to warm up to the boy, but before she died, she came to accept him.”

  “And Lady Rebeccah? Does she envy this adopted brother?” Again, Ioan showed his interest.

  Hugh shook his head and smiled. “Ohh, no. Rebeccah and Akimba are like true sister and brother. Rebeccah is the elder of the two, and she loved Akimba from the start, perhaps, in part, because her mother did not, and she knew the boy needed affection. Each would defend the other to the death; there is no rivalry between the two.”

  “You are still being mysterious,” I said. “What is so unusual about Akimba…besides his name, that is?”

  “His skin is black,” answered Hugh.

  I was confused. “Was he burned…on the ship?”

  Hugh chuckled. “No…nothing like that. Rwadians are, as a rule, black-skinned people.”

  “I’ve heard of something like that, but I didn’t know whether or not to believe it,” murmured Larkin. “Imagine…an entire race of black people.” He whistled under his breath, and then, like a typical dreamer, he thought to ask another question. “Are they beautiful?”

  “Akimba is the only one I’ve met.” Hugh shrugged. “I suppose he’s a fine looking man…I tend to think of women as beautiful, though.”

  I held out my hands so that I could see them in the firelight. “Black skin…amazing! I want to see this Akimba.”

  “As you shall…possibly by tomorrow’s eve, if we have a good day’s travel.” He slapped his palms against his thighs, an obvious sign of dismissal. “Now, as to the order of the watch…”

  Chapter Six

  Daybreak came grim and wet; a drizzle fell with steady monotony as we saddled the horses. There was nothing to do but bear it, and we traveled thus for several hours. When we were soaked through and through, Hugh, Larkin, and I no doubt looked as miserable as we felt. Ioan, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the weather…even when the rain began to fall in sheets.

  Lightning raced across the sky in fantastic, horizontal bursts that were amazing to behold. It was a thrilling and frightening spectacle to witness; however, when the lightning began to shoot vertically, striking here and there on the moor-side, any exhilaration we’d been experiencing was gone. We needed to find cover, and there was precious little on that barren moor itself, but we had recently passed a sharp drop-off with steep cliffs. It was likely that we could find some slight cover from the overhangs, and there was always the possibility of finding small openings in the cliff face, or even caves. We turned back, and began our near-blind search for cover.

  Simply being near the face gave us some relief from the driving rain, for the force of it was coming from the opposite side. Still, we desired better cover, and we moved at what seemed a snail’s pace around the base, attempting to shield our eyes as we kept looking up into the cliff face, trying to see a large fissure.

  Ioan saw them first: there was a cluster of dark openings slightly less than three heads high to our left. It was a bit too steep to risk forcing the horses up, and those tough beasts seemed content to hug the cliff wall and keep their heads down, so we secured their lines, and began our ascent.

  With only a minimum of slipping and sliding, we managed to reach the first of the fissures. It was large enough to shelter one or two men, but we decided to investigate further.

  Our third try gave us success…or so we thought. The fissure was wide, with a level area of ground just outside the entrance. We could all fit through the low opening, but once we were inside, we began to wonder if it was such a good idea. We could each man stand fairly comfortably in the space directly behind the fissure, but we could see there was a passage that turned and narrowed before falling into darkness, and that passage made us all uneasy.

  “What do you think is causing that smell?” asked Larkin. His face was screwed up in disgust before it changed to a look of dread. “Are there bears around this part of the country?” His voice had become a whisper.

  Hugh answered. “I would imagine it is doubtful…this far out on the moor…I do not think so.” He was trying to be reassuring, but his voice revealed his own doubt. He referred the question to Ioan. “What do you think it is?”

  “Ahhh, well, perhaps therein dwells a troll. He may be sitting there deciding which of us he wants to eat first,” ventured Ioan in a theatrically sinister voice. He nodded at Larkin. “He’ll likely prefer young, tender flesh.”

  Larkin didn’t rise to the bait. “Oh bother! Everyone knows they’ve all been killed ages ago!”

  “Like Hydorians?” I asked.

  Larkin shrugged. “You’ve got a point. You never know what kind of fiend will turn up in this backward country.”

  Ioan elbowed him in response, and then we all sniffed and grimaced at the scent a bit more.

  “What about wolves?” I asked, having recalled my recent encounter with the wretched creatures.

  Hugh grimaced. “Now, that’s more likely.” He shifted nervously; something crunched underfoot. He bent down to pick it up, and then held it out towards the light at the entrance.

  “What is it?” asked Larkin.

  “It looks like bone,” answered Hugh. He bent down again, and scooped up another handful of the litter beneath him. This, too, he held in the dim light, and this, too, appeared to be an assortment of crushed bones.

  Needless to say, none of us felt too happy about that.

  “Ioan, would you consider having a look?” Hugh asked.

  Ioan had been standing closest to the entrance, being the least bothered by the still-spattering raindrops hitting the rocks overhead. He nodded to Hugh, and gestured for us to make room for him to pass.
As he squeezed by me, he looked at me and winked, as if to reassure me. I wasn’t really reassured, and instead noticed the uncharacteristically eerie, dark color of his ever-changing eyes.

  “Be careful, lad, it’s too dark in there,” I cautioned. “You can’t see to be safe.”

  Ioan nodded in response and kept moving, while Hugh waved off my warning. “He’ll be all right, Gael; he can see in the dark.”

  It had never occurred to me that Ioan’s strange eyes might have different capabilities as well, but it would certainly explain how he could see to swim in deep, murky waters.

  Ioan ducked down at first, and then had to get on his hands and knees to crawl back into the darkness. Within seconds, we could no longer see him. We all stood there with bated breath, trying to listen past the drumming of the rain and the rumble of thunder. Very little time actually passed, but it seemed interminable. We waited, and heard nothing at first. Then, in a clattering tumble of scrabbling limbs, Ioan hurtled out of the darkness. Without uttering a word, he blew right past us, out past the fissure and into the pouring rain, where he turned round and round like a madman, with his face turned up and his hands held high towards the heavens.

  Hugh called out to him, “Are you all right? What is it, Ioan?”

  I believe that we were all worried that Ioan would fall down the slope. The only level area outside the entrance was small, and he seemed oblivious of the drop-off.