by Jules Marks
Of course his attempt to console her brought on a torrent of tears. I looked at Akimba, and he appeared as helpless as I felt. He placed a sympathetic hand upon Larkin’s shoulder, and, knowing naught what else to do, he patted her until she grew quiet.
As for Ioan, that small bit of effort seemed all that he could manage. He spoke no more while Larkin settled down; his exhausted gaze traveled from Larkin to Akimba, and then back to me. (Anya stood at the end of the table, beyond his sight.)
Soon Larkin mastered her tears. She clutched his right hand, looked into Ioan’s one good eye, and showed him a tremulous smile. “By the saints, is there anywhere you’re not hurt?”
His lips moved, but there was not enough sound for us to understand. I leaned my head close to his, and he tried again.
I looked at him, saw a twinkle in his eye, and couldn’t help but guffaw at his response.
“What did he say?” asked Larkin.
“He says he’s good from the knees down.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ioan managed to speak one more time. He stared at Akimba for a moment, strained to produce sound, and again I leaned forward to hear and relate what he had to say.
“He asks where Rebeccah is,” I said as I looked to Akimba for an answer.
Akimba smiled, and I immediately saw that he’d reassured Ioan…even before he answered. “She seems to be the only one of us who is still hale and hearty. She and several of the other knights have been out chasing down some of the Uplanders who fled the field. I’m certain they will return now that it’s getting dark.” He shot a quick, somewhat worried glance at the window. “It should be any time. When she arrives, I’ll send her hither directly.”
His answer seemed to satisfy Ioan, for he nodded, and turned to watch me take another stitch where once he’d had a hand. Again, he opened his mouth as if to speak. I was worried that he would ask about Hugh next, but he didn’t manage it. He gasped in pain, and his eye rolled back and fluttered closed.
“Is he…?” Both Akimba and Larkin jerked to attention.
Anya and I shook our heads at the same time.
“Be grateful…he’s fainted,” she told them.
<><><>
Ioan was settled in what had been Hugh’s bed, it being the largest, most comfortable in the room. I’d given him some of his own medicinal concoctions, hoping they would ease his pain and help him rest. Larkin had let me move her cot next to Ioan’s bed so she could watch over him in some degree of comfort. She tried her best to hide it, but I could tell she was hurting. She explained to me that her arm had been broken as the “clean-up” had begun. With the townspeople and uninjured soldiers, she’d been moving through the field, checking for survivors. As she knelt over one of our infantrymen, a nearby Upland casualty apparently decided to strike one last blow, and, unfortunately, Larkin was his target. She managed to kill him, but only after he’d broken her arm with his war club. Akimba had been across the field, but he’d heard the commotion, and had immediately come to her aid.
As for the valiant lord of the castle, we’d seen to Akimba’s wounds, and then he left to continue his work…and locate Rebeccah. I marveled that he still could move, and my respect for his strength and fortitude grew even more.
Anya and I were in the outer room. I sat on the bench near the fire, and she sat opposite me, cleaning and bandaging my mangled hand. She was kind, yet firm as she insisted on caring for me.
“What were you thinking? How were you going to do this yourself?” she chided me. “Here I am, ready and willing to help. Did you truly believe that I would finish with your friends and then leave?” She shook her head, but she was smiling. “Silly old man,” she muttered.
I picked up her banter. “Not so old,” I argued.
She looked up from her work long enough to smile at me. There was a twinkle in her friendly brown eyes. “How old are you, then, Gael?”
I straightened my shoulders and held my head high. “I am fifty-six.”
The sound she made was something like ‘phtth.’
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
She clucked her tongue. “Fifty-six is pretty old…”
“And how old are you, then?” I asked, though I immediately regretted what might seem a rude question.
She chuckled, and then sighed. “I am old enough…”
I raised an eyebrow and stared her down.
“Fifty-one,” she admitted. She finished tying the knot that completed my bandage, and then looked at me, her face suddenly showing concern. She took my good hand in her own two.
“How are you…truly?” Her voice was more sympathetic than I could bear.
“I am well…” I think I would have made good my deception if she hadn’t touched me, but that gentle offering of compassion did me in. I could no longer hold her gaze. I looked away, into the burning flames in the fireplace, and felt a tear roll down my cheek.
“I don’t know when I’ve felt so old…”
<><><>
It had been dark outside for almost three hours when Akimba returned. As soon as he limped through the doorway, I knew he bore ill tidings, for his expression was grim.
I’d begun to rise when he entered, but he waved me back to my seat. “What is amiss, my Lord Akimba?” I asked.
He scrubbed his hands down his face before speaking. “Rebeccah has not returned, nor have any of the knights who were with her, and I know not where to begin looking.” He pointed at the window in the adjacent room. “The storm clouds obliterate what celestial light we might have. Even torches are of no use if we know not where to look. We will be able to track her come morning light, but until then I am a helpless, useless, wretch of a man.” He moved further into the room and dropped into another chair beside the fire. He bent forward and leaned his head in his hands. “Is Ioan still living?”
“…When last I checked. Larkin is with him.” In truth, I hadn’t risen from my chair for almost an hour…for Ioan’s sake or my own. I needed food and drink, but I was simply too tired to search any out.
Akimba was, at that moment, anyway, a bit of a mind reader. “Have you eaten?”
“No, not all day.”
“Neither have I,” he answered. “I’ll be riding out at first light, and I need sustenance. I’ll have the guard bring something up.” He called for the soldier who stood in the hallway, gave instructions, and the man departed. While they were speaking, I’d risen from my chair and walked into the other room far enough to ascertain that both occupants were resting quietly. I returned to my chair facing Akimba. He pointed toward the other chamber, where Ioan and Larkin slept.
“Perhaps something good will come of her broken arm. I won’t have to talk that dear girl out of coming with me.” He sighed, and then smiled as he reached across the intervening space and patted my uninjured hand. “I certainly hope that today’s battle was her last.”
“As do I,” I agreed. I closed my eyes for a moment, and considered whether I should speak. The words seemed to come out of my mouth without my having thought them through:
“Do you need me to come with you?”
“Does not Ioan need you here?” was his unselfish response.
I considered it, and shook my head. “Your Anya is a fine leech; I have done all I may do for now. Ioan will live or die of his own accord.”
Akimba squeezed my hand with what seemed true affection, and then leaned back in his chair. “My knights are now so few. I wish to have you stay here, to be with your Larkin, but I know not what we shall face, and I’m afraid that I need any experienced warrior who can ably ride a horse and fight. I hate to think on it, but I may need a good leech as well.” He looked at me with a critical eye. “I know that you would desire to help me find Rebeccah…but are you able, Gael?”
I narrowed my eyes, looked at him, and responded to his question with one of my own. “Are you, my Lord Akimba?”
He tipped his head back, squeezed his eyes shut, and groaned. “…A val
id question, Gael.” He opened his eyes again, and raised an eyebrow. “Ask me again after I’ve eaten.”
Food and drink did, indeed, help us feel better. Akimba’s mood seemed to improve as well. He tried to reassure me—and also himself—that Rebeccah was safe.
“This night is so dark! They probably could not see to safely return. Tomorrow morn they will likely meet us on our way, and wonder at our concern.”
“I do hope for all our sakes that such is the case, my lord.”
Akimba smiled. “Rebeccah may be sleeping soundly right now…even as I sit worrying about her.”
“Perhaps we should try to do the same.”
Akimba shook his head. “I doubt that I could sleep…”
“At least you could rest.”
He saw the wisdom of my words…and he also realized that I was near nodding off. “Go rest, Gael. I will have someone come for you before first light.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The night was long, and held precious little rest. Ioan slept for a time, then woke in terrible pain. I again dosed him with his drugs, but their effect seemed negligible for more than an hour. During that time, he asked me about Hugh, and I broke the sad news. His tears fell, unhindered onto the pillow. Recounting the tale had had its affect: I was busy wiping away more of my own. He asked why Rebeccah had not come, and I gave him Akimba’s optimistic version of the story…that she had pursued the fleeing Uplanders into the night, that it was too dark to make safe return.
Partly to pass the time and keep his mind on other things, I told him of our day, how Larkin had held up during the battle, about the incredible luck I’d had in surviving some of those powerful Upland giants. Ioan was attentive, but had not the energy to respond often. Finally, at long last, the medicine began to do its work: he drifted into the less painful oblivion of a drugged slumber, and I, too, managed some sleep before Den came in to wake me.
Had I been able, I’d have simply written Larkin a note. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, so I sat down on the edge of her cot and patted her cheek to wake her. I spoke quietly, so as not to disturb Ioan.
“Dear girl, wake up a moment, Larkin.”
It took her a bit. She winced, blinked a few times, yawned, and then suddenly straightened. “Has something happened?” she whispered. “Is Ioan all right?” Disoriented still, she looked around, trying to remember where he lay.
“He’s still sleeping…and we should hope he stays that way awhile longer, for this will be a wretched day for him,” I whispered back.
It was then she noticed that I was dressed and armed, ready to go. (Fortunately, she hadn’t seen how painful the process had been.)
“What are you doing? Where are you off to, then?”
I hated to tell her the truth, but I couldn’t leave her with a lie. “Rebeccah still hasn’t returned. We are off to search for her party.”
Larkin immediately looked distressed. She felt at her splinted arm, and knew that she could be no help. She sighed, frowned, and then asked yet another question: “Why must you go, Gael? Surely there are others?”
I looked her in the eye. “Many of those who were uninjured went with Rebeccah in the first place. There are few left here who can ride and fight.”
“But…” She bit at her lip. “Must you?”
“Akimba needs me.”
That statement sent her mind off in a completely new direction. “But what if something happens to one of you…to you or Akimba?” She put her good hand to her mouth. “What will I do? Sir Hugh is gone, and I…” She left off speaking; it was obvious she was trying to stop the tears that were pricking at her lids.
“We will come back; think not of the alternative. For now, take care of Ioan. Anya will help, as will Nordz.” I leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. There was more to say, but no time to say it. As it was, my throat was tightening.
Larkin clutched at my quiver strap. “Gael…” She closed her eyes, and a single tear slid down her cheek.
I patted her hand, and then gently pried her fingers from my strap. I kissed her hand once, and left the room.
<><><>
Our party consisted of nine full-fledged knights and twenty-two mounted men-at-arms. Of the original 67 knights who fought in the previous day’s battle, 27 had died; 19 more were too badly wounded to travel with us; two had determined that they would never fight again no matter how worthy the cause (one of them had already left for a monastery); and our nine were seeking the ten who were missing…among those the Lady Rebeccah. We didn’t know how many Uplanders we might meet during our hunt, but, judging by their tracks, they had dispersed in wild abandon, in all directions from Castle Beckman. There had been a rough count of the enemy bodies—there were no wounded, as all had been brutally dispatched—and it appeared that almost 1,500 of their warriors had died on the previous day. (Nordz estimated that at least a third of those had killed themselves or been killed after being injured.) Our side had suffered 217 dead and at least 240 wounded. The victory was so lop-sided, it seemed practically a miracle, and, if not for our current mission, we would have been spending the day thanking God and celebrating our deliverance.
The previous day’s rain had ended not long after sunset, and I was grateful we weren’t riding out in a storm. The day was overcast and cool, but pleasant enough.
It wasn’t difficult to find Rebeccah’s trail. The initial passing of the Uplanders had churned up the ground, and the trail left by the shod hooves of the warhorses made for an easy track. As we progressed, we happened upon scores more dead Uplanders. It appeared that most had been killed early on in their retreat: many of Beckman’s foot soldiers had given pursuit until sundown, and when they had returned in their exhausted parties of ten and twenty at a time, they had told of their exploits and marveled at how the once-fearsome Uplanders had run like frightened rabbits. Many had escaped, but few men considered they were any real threat.
As we traveled on past the point the foot soldiers had managed, we found even more enemy dead, but none of our own troops, and that gave us hope that Rebeccah’s knights had remained successful in their pursuit of the fleeing enemy.
In spite of this optimism, I believe all of us felt uneasy when we realized which direction we were heading: if we remained on our present course, the trail was leading us back to the caves.
Akimba’s best tracker gave his opinion: Rebeccah’s party was concentrating their efforts upon a group of six mounted Uplanders. That seemed a favorable scenario with those numbers being so few. But there was the chance that both parties were heading back towards a base camp, one still teeming with Uplanders, and then the numbers Rebeccah’s knights might face could be insurmountable. That scenario was one that none of us truly wanted to consider.
In this conflicted state of mind, we rode another hour, and came upon the scene of an attack of sorts. There were two abandoned bodies: one of Rebeccah’s knights, Sir Willem, by name; the other was one of the wolf/commanders. We judged they had been dead most of the night.
Of course I’d seen one of their commanders up close before, but I hadn’t really been in my right mind at the time. Now that I was clear-headed, I rolled the warrior over and spent a few moments examining him. He still wore his wolf headdress. I could clearly see that pieces of amber had been placed where the eyes had once been. It gave the wolf’s head a decidedly sinister appearance. The Uplander’s face had been painted dark gray. His staring, red-rimmed eyes were still open, as was his mouth, and I saw, to my horror, that his teeth had been sharpened to points. Carrion had already been at his neck and the side of his face; in truth, he was appalling to look upon.
Sensing we had little time, Akimba led all of us in hastily stacking stones over Sir Willem’s body. We hoped that there would be time to give him a proper burial later, but the least we could do was to spend two minutes work to keep the carrion off.
Our tracker could tell us nothing definite regarding what may have transpired there. He could say, however,
that the nine remaining knights and five Uplanders were still all heading in the same direction. He also found evidence of several men on foot, but they soon broke away, and did not concern us greatly. The scout rode out again, but he did not return to us.
We knew not what had happened, but the absence of the scout was in itself a warning to Akimba, and he ordered us to be alert, ready for ambush. However, we soon reached the rocky, barren moor. An ambush there from either party would be difficult to mount, for we could see great distances and were hindered in this only by the rolling hills. As we rode ever nearer the caves, I knew Akimba had to be wondering how to attack such a wretchedly difficult objective. The opening of the cavern was so small, so confining. We could only enter single file. A man practically had to get down on his hands and knees to pass through the narrow tunnel. It was a perfect position to have one’s head cut off, and anyone who had seen the place knew it. More than one man in our party absently rubbed at his neck as we rode…or perhaps I was simply projecting my own thoughts upon them; after all, more than one of us had a sore neck. I knew, because I was one of those afflicted.