The Death Wish

by Jules Marks

  Ioan didn’t respond to Hugh’s question; he kept moving like a man deranged. When Hugh called out to him again, he quit circling, and came to us, but stopped short of entering our little refuge.

  “Do not go further into that darkness,” he warned in a frighteningly sepulchral voice.

  “What’s down there?” I asked, though I wasn’t certain that I wanted to know the answer.

  “Bones…more bones,” he answered without looking at me. Instead, he peered into the blackness. He shivered, and took a step further from the entrance.

  “Ioan?” Hugh’s voice was sharp. “Should we leave? Should we move?”

  Ioan’s initial response was a crazy laugh, but then he answered. “Do you believe in ghosts? No? Then nothing in there can hurt you: all are dead.”

  “What’s dead? In the name of heaven, what did you see down there?” Hugh’s voice had changed. He was sounding a bit anxious, himself. He moved forward to grab Ioan by the shoulders. “Ioan! What did you see?”

  Ioan finally directed his gaze our way…and I wished he had not. His vacant stare was flat, colourless, clouded like a dead man’s eyes.

  “The cave is large, full of bones; it’s a feeding den, I suppose.” His voice was toneless. He grimaced. “At first glance I didn’t realize what it all meant…until I picked up one of the skulls. It was human.”

  Hugh looked down at the bits of bone around our feet. “They killed a human?” His voice trailed away, as if he couldn’t comprehend what Ioan had told him.

  “Not one human; all…or at least, most of the bones are human. There are bones everywhere, dozens of skulls…”

  “But wolves cannot do this! It isn’t possible…”

  Ioan held up a hand to stop him saying more. “I never said they were wolves. There were the remains of many campfires down there…and huge cooking spits, if you can imagine it. Humans have been there, cooking other humans upon those fires…and not so long ago.” He scowled, and then closed his eyes. “I say the word ‘human’ but I cannot imagine the men who could do that…who could eat…” He stopped, and put his hands over his face. “Curse these eyes! I wish I had not seen…”

  I had heard enough. I grabbed Larkin by the arm. “Come on, lad, we’re leavin’ this place.” I nodded to Hugh to help Ioan, and we moved out through the fissure, away from the entrance. We slipped and stumbled our way down to the horses, where we stood as a group, huddled together in the still-pouring rain. I think we all tried to comfort Ioan in some way or another: Hugh had an arm around his shoulders; I couldn’t help but pat his bowed head; Larkin kept murmuring mindless reassurances.

  It was a hard thing to figure: we were all familiar with brutality, even with primitive behavior, but we had never heard the like of men killing and eating the flesh of other men. The very idea was beyond my ken; I couldn’t imagine seeing the horrifying aftermath of such a nightmare firsthand, as Ioan had done.

  Larkin was obviously trying to come to grips with what we’d learned. “They eat the warriors they’ve killed? Are they trying to take in their enemy’s strength or courage…or something to that effect?”

  Ioan straightened, and pushed the wet hair back from his face. He looked at Larkin, and frowned. “Would it help to think there was some mystical significance to this madness?” He shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. And, you’ve seen that there’s game aplenty here; the Uplanders weren’t desperate for food. These men are savages, like no men you’ve ever encountered. They weren’t just eating the warriors they’ve killed…” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if to dispel the vision he’d seen. “There were children’s skulls and skeletons, infants’ as well.” He looked at each of us, in turn. “I know little of the feud between Halwick and the Uplanders, but I do know this: there is no justification on this earth for the crimes they’ve committed in yon cavern.”

  We all nodded in agreement. I cursed the Uplanders, and wanted all the more to kill them. My original reason for coming with Hugh was still important, but I’d found another purpose for fighting. If I was killed in the process, so be it and all for the better, but those foul beasts…could they be called men?…needed to pay for what they’d done.

  The bad weather slowed us, and we couldn’t reach Beckman Castle by nightfall. We were truly a miserable lot, being soaked through, weary, and totally dispirited by what we had learned earlier that day.

  Our fortunes seemed to turn when we found an abandoned farm. The house had burned to the ground, but the farmer must have been prosperous at one time, for there was a substantial stone barn with a roof still relatively intact. We welcomed the prospect of the chance to dry out men, horses, and gear, so we quickly settled in.

  A warm fire, some hot food, and we felt better…physically. Still, our psyches were troubled, our thoughts morose. Larkin especially seemed fretful. As we sat together discussing our eminent arrival at Beckman, he remained quiet, his eyes downcast.

  I nudged Hugh, and then tipped my head in Larkin’s direction. Hugh seemed to get my message.

  “Larkin, you haven’t had much to say. Are you looking forward to meeting Akimba?” he asked.

  Larkin’s head jerked up; he looked at Hugh wide-eyed. “Will I actually meet him?” he asked.

  Hugh nodded. “You’re in my party, after all. Of course you shall be introduced. You will meet Lord Halwick and Lady Rebeccah as well.”

  “The lady warrior? Oh, that would be splendid, indeed! You never told us what she looks like, Sir Hugh. Is she a rough, manly sort?”

  “Decidedly not; she is a handsome woman…some might call her beautiful. Put her in fashionable robes, and you would never know that she could cut off your head with one stroke of the blade.”

  Larkin put his hand to his throat for just a moment, and then he seemed sidetracked, and thought of another question.

  “What of Ioan? Once we pass the castle gates, will he not be at risk of discovery? Will his life be in danger?”

  Hugh shook his head. “Ioan has visited Castle Beckman in the distant past; he became a friend to Halwick before I was born. He will be careful, as must we all be. Do not forget your promise, boy: not a word about Ioan to anyone.”

  Larkin nodded. “I shan’t forget. But forgive me for pressing my case: won’t someone notice his eyes?”

  Ioan, who had remained mute up to that point, reached across the intervening space and touched Larkin’s hand. “Thank you for your concern. Allow me to allay your fears. I will be wearing a cowl, and, while playing the humble and obedient servant of Sir Hugh, I will keep my head lowered…like a good servant should do.” Here he gave me a not-so-gentle nudge in the ribs.

  I acted affronted. “I say! Sir Hugh has never requested that I appear humble, nor has he asked that I lower my head.”

  “That’s because I knew it would be pointless: you wouldn’t do it,” Hugh replied as he chuckled.

  Chapter Seven

  Despite what Hugh and Ioan had told me beforehand, I hadn’t really known what to expect, so it was with wonder and amazement that I saw the great walled town with its equally grand castle. It made Lord Geoffrey’s keep seem tiny. Beckman truly was a fortress; the stone walls were thicker and higher than others I’d seen. They looked as if they could withstand any assault, especially one by a barbarian horde with primitive weapons.

  We looked on from afar: there lay before us a plain to traverse. Beckman was situated at the base of steep cliffs, but a vast, level space stretched out before it. This proved a defensive advantage. Attacking troops had the choice of a treacherous, rocky climb that would undoubtedly prove difficult with a coordinated attack, or, an enemy could advance across the open plain, leaving themselves exposed to longbowmen while the soldiers of Castle Beckman stood safe behind those sheltering walls.

  Larkin, unaccustomed as he was to the strategies of war, couldn’t work it out.

  “How can they be threatened, Sir Hugh? Surely this fortress could withstand any attack the barbarian Uplanders could throw at
them.”

  Hugh pointed at the walls in the distance. “Beckman is safe…if all stay within those walls. But the entire countryside cannot live there indefinitely, Larkin. Who will grow the crops…who will care for the livestock? Most people do not wish to live within the confines of those walls, but their homes out in the countryside are not safe, and so they must do. There may not be much of a threat to Castle Beckman itself, but Halwick’s lands are at risk, and he does not have the manpower to protect them. He…” Hugh stopped speaking, even as he jerked the reins of his horse.

  “Ioan, Gael, do you see the battlements? What is there?”

  We both stopped to get a better look; Ioan held a hand over his brow to shield his eyes from the sun.

  “They are standards, black draping,” said Ioan.

  We all of us knew what that meant: someone had died…someone important.

  Beckman’s town walls spread from one side of the cliff to the other; on the level side they were surrounded by a moat that seemed something of an after-thought, with a huge drawbridge as access. The moat’s waters were wide, low and muddy, with little movement. I noticed Ioan giving the moat a good look. He scowled, and mumbled, “All mud, too dirty.”

  I was surprised at how little difficulty we had clearing the gates. When the officer of the watch was called, he recognized Hugh, and after a flurry of formal exchanges between the two, we were led through the winding town’s streets and up to the castle.

  We had learned during that initial discussion that Halwick was dead, but we knew not the time or the manner of his passing. Our long-anticipated meeting with Akimba and Lady Rebeccah was likely to be a somber one, for the funeral and internment had been that very morning. We passed through the gates of the inner walls, the castle’s walls, and into the courtyard proper. The atmosphere around us was subdued; we knew not whether from grief, or from the grinding monotony of constant warfare and strife.

  Ioan did as he said he would: he kept his head lowered, his eyes downcast. But Larkin and I couldn’t help ourselves: we held heads high and could hardly walk without stumbling we were so distracted by what we were seeing. We gazed in wonder at the magnificent castle, at the well-armed soldiers all around, at the sheer scale of the place, which was much grander than anything I was accustomed to. The castle seemed to grow directly from the cliff. It was as if the rocky mountain had decided to become civilized; the stones moved from rough to smooth in easy transition.

  The castle steward met us in the great hall, and he launched into a lengthy apology for Sir Hugh about the lack of worthy accommodations. He indicated that all he could spare for our party was a suite of rooms. Before the man could apologize again, Hugh cut him off, and reminded him that we’d been sleeping out-of-doors some nights, that any rooms he could spare would likely be more comfortable than a blanket thrown upon the rocky ground. The steward seemed reassured, and he had a servant lead us away.

  Hugh seemed perfectly at ease in the lavishly appointment “apartment,” but I must admit that I was a bit overwhelmed at the thought of staying in such a place. The floors were clean and polished; there were fine tapestries hanging upon the walls; a massive, beautifully carved bed took up a corner of one of the rooms, and the bedclothes upon it were fine-woven…none of the rough items we were used to. Set into the stone walls were leaded glass windows within intricate tracery; they looked down upon a lush green garden full of flowers; arbors; and benches…it even boasted a small pond. I watched as Ioan looked out the window and spied the water below. He sighed and murmured, “not big enough.”

  The other room was more of a “draw-to” room. Within it there was a scribe’s desk and chair, several benches, and a larger table and chairs for private conference and/or meals. Hugh and Ioan seemed indifferent to these trappings of wealth, but Larkin and I couldn’t help but examine the details and extol the virtues of living in such style.

  We had time to clean up and eat a light meal, and we were just reaching the point of chafing at our inactivity when came a knock at the door.

  I opened it, first looking out at the wall across the hallway…and then down at the little man standing, waiting patiently for me to answer. He was a dwarf, no more than mid-chest high to me. He appeared to be middle-aged, with a long gray beard braided into a fantastically complicated design, and he was dressed in elegant robes. He sported a magnificent sword at his belt; he may have been small, but he was grand, nonetheless.

  He nodded respectfully, stepped through the door just past the threshold, and then launched into his speech:

  “Greetings to you all from my master, Akimba. Now that you’ve had a chance to refresh yourselves, he asks that you attend him in his chambers.”

  The dwarf, who introduced himself as Nordz, led us through a maze of halls, stairways, and turns. I felt certain that I couldn’t find our way back to our rooms if my life depended upon it.

  Considering what Hugh had told us beforehand, I thought I was prepared to meet Akimba. But I was not: he was even more spectacular than I’d imagined. Though I’d never seen a black person before, so I couldn’t be sure of his age, I guessed he was in his middle twenties. Akimba was tall, obviously of powerful build; majestic in bearing; his head was shaved clean and it glowed like polished ebony. In his left earlobe was a diamond, and it shone against his black skin like a twinkling star in the midnight sky. His features were strong and symmetrical, and his black eyes were all the more dramatic for their red-rimmed appearance. He’d obviously been weeping at some time during the day…though I imagined he’d done so in private. It seemed he’d changed from his funerary clothing—anyway I assumed so—for he was wearing simple garments of fine weave, similar in quality to Hugh’s clothing.

  Upon our entry, he turned from the window where he’d been standing, and rushed across the room to embrace Hugh.

  “It brings me such pleasure to have you here!” exclaimed Akimba as he gave Hugh what looked to be a bear hug and hearty clap on the back. His voice was deep and melodious, and bore not a trace of an accent.

  “I only wish that the circumstances were happier ones,” returned Hugh, a little breathless after his release.

  “As do I,” agreed Akimba. “I must say that I am surprised: when the courier returned from Llewellan, he said that Lord Geoffrey could spare no men, that no one could come. He told us about the deaths there…” Akimba paused, and again gave Hugh a brief hug, one not so likely to break his ribs. “We were so sorry to hear about Hermione and Demorah. I can only now imagine how terrible that must have been for you!” His voice caught on those last words; he bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if to regain his composure.

  Hugh touched Akimba’s shoulder. “What happened, Akimba? How did Halwick die?”

  Akimba heaved a huge sigh before speaking. “In our present circumstances, you might assume that he died in battle with the Uplanders, but that was not the case…we haven’t engaged them in over a week. Instead, the actual circumstances of father’s death are unknown. His servants found him dead at the foot of one of the long staircases; the side of his head was bashed, and he’d bled to death, alone in the night.” Akimba scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “I wish I knew what he was doing there, why he was up walking about in the middle of the night. We questioned the man attending him. He told us my father had sent him away to rest in the outer chamber. He says he never heard father pass through the room, that he has no idea why father didn’t wake him for whatever it was he needed. Rebeccah thinks the man lies, but I think not: he seems too fearful to me. And, so the mystery remains. Father is dead, and we know not why.”

  Akimba’s grief was having its affect on us all, and he seemed to realize this when he turned his eyes from Hugh towards the rest of us standing quietly as we witnessed the solemn conversation. He clapped Hugh on the shoulder.

  “I see you’ve brought me a few more men, and if they are up to your high standards, I am certain they will perform many deeds of valour.” He beckoned to the three of
us standing near the doorway. “Come…” He turned to Hugh. “Introduce me to your comrades, if you please.”

  Hugh nodded, and turned towards us; he took us in the order in which we stood…and I was first.

  “Lord Akimba, allow me to introduce my faithful servant, Gael. He is our master of arms at Llewellan, and he has earned the title and the respect that goes with it many times over.”

  I attempted a bow, and felt stupid even as I did so because it certainly did not come naturally. Hugh grinned from ear to ear when he saw me do thus; he rolled his eyes and murmured, “I’d like to see that again, sometime,” as he passed me to gesture towards Ioan.

  Ioan had kept his head bowed throughout the previous conversation, but when Hugh introduced him, Ioan looked into Akimba’s eyes, and then gave a respectful nod.

  (I wished that I had thought to do that; then I wouldn’t have felt such a fool.)

  Akimba started momentarily, and then put his fingers to his lips before regaining his composure to speak. “I remember…Father used to tell stories of you. You’re the Hydorian prince he thought so highly of!” Akimba immediately performed a low, graceful bow. “I am happy to finally meet you; we are honored to have you here at Castle Beckman.”

  This time Ioan returned the bow. “It is I who am honored. It saddens me to have missed seeing your father once more, but the pleasure of meeting the man he chose as a son tempers the blow.”

  As he spoke those words, I thought to look at Larkin, to see if he was reacting in the same way I was. (When I’d heard Ioan referred to as a prince, I had to make an effort to keep my mouth from falling open…you could have knocked me over with a feather.)

  If anything, Larkin looked worse: he’d gone pale, and was watching the scene as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Ioan a prince? Neither Larkin nor I had seen any regal behavior on Ioan’s part. Noble, yes, but Ioan had never acted as if he thought himself better than a servant.