by Jules Marks
“Gael…Gael, I had such a dream! I know not what to think of it...” He put a hand over his eyes and moaned. “I need someone to tell me what it means!” He reached out his free hand and placed it upon my shoulder. “I know not what to think,” he repeated.
“I am no seer, Sir Hugh, but I am a good listener. Tell me what is wrong.” I didn’t know if I could help him, but I certainly wanted to ease his pain, even if it was simply by hearing him out.
He shook his head; his breathing was ragged. “It was so real; I honestly thought I was touching them, holding them again. ‘Mione and Demorah were back at Llewellan. We were together, just as we were in those last days. They both became ill; they lingered in misery; and each died a horrible death. My heart was broken twice…” He paused, and moaned once again.
“Sir Hugh, I know…”
“But, Gael, that wasn’t all! We took them to burn—you were there, too—and it happened again. I watched the flames take them; I stood helpless and broken amidst the swirling, stinking smoke…” His hand tightened on my arm. “But then, this is where it changed, the dream changed this time! We all watched the flames until they became smoke and ash. Still we remained as if tied to that pyre; we could not move, you and I. The dream was so real, so vivid…I tell you I could actually smell the smoke! We watched and waited. I knew not for what, but we all stayed, staring at the smoldering pile. Then the strangest thing happened…” (I felt Hugh’s hand trembling upon my arm.) “…They rose from the ashes…’Mione and Demorah sprang forth! Like the phoenix in the legend they rose up and then they walked off that ash heap. It was as if they didn’t know we were there watching: they simply headed for the castle gates, hand in hand, as if they were going on a stroll. Seeing those walking dead, I was first horrified, and then overjoyed, thinking perhaps that I had witnessed a miracle. I ran for them, calling their names. At first I thought they didn’t hear, but I called once more, just before I reached them.”
Hugh stopped speaking; he dropped his hand from my arm, and turned his back to me. He allowed himself a groan before continuing his story.
“Mione spun around to face me. She held out an arm without actually touching me, as if to restrain me from coming close. It worked: I stood as if frozen…I couldn’t move. Mione didn’t speak; she merely shook her head from side to side. But, Gael, I didn’t need for her to speak aloud, for I could hear her voice in my head! She forbad me to come closer; she said it was not my right to choose the time. With that, she turned away again, and the two drifted towards the castle gate and then disappeared through the very wood of it!” Hugh placed his palms against the sides of his skull, as if he was in pain. “I know not what to think! What am I to do?”
The dream seemed a gift from God as far as I was concerned. Though it brought me pain to think upon the events he was describing, the end of the dream appeared to have a clear meaning. I assumed that Sir Hugh could see this meaning, but as it was in conflict to what he’d been hoping to do, he wanted to hear another interpretation.
I reached out and grasped his hand.
“You surely must see what it means, Sir Hugh! She said that it was not your right to choose the time! You are to strive to live on…” Though my voice was hushed due to the late hour, it was forceful. “This is a message from beyond the grave, from above, and you need heed it. Do battle if you must, but do not seek out death, for you have been told to live on.”
Hugh was shaking his head.
“But I cannot!” His voice was full of anguish. “This dream made it worse; the pain is as great as ever.” He bowed his head. “I want nothing more than to join them.”
“But you must not ignore this vision!” I answered. “Its intent is too clear!”
“Oh, Gael, you could slay me where I stand, and I would be a happy man. I do not wish to go on living!” That said, he sank to his knees; his entire posture admitted defeat.
This was one defeat I wanted to reinforce: I wanted him to submit to the vision; I wanted that noble man to go on living…there was so much potential yet to be fulfilled. “But you must try, Sir Hugh. Lady Hermione bids it, and she is surely but a messenger from God.”
“I do not know…it was just a dream, after all…” He seemed to waver.
“It was a message, an order, if you will, and you must obey.” I was still holding his hand, and I gave it a shake. “You cannot hope to deny God’s will; he still has work for you to do. It is as Hermione said: God will choose the time, not you. It may be weeks away, and it may be decades, but God will choose the time.”
“It’s too hard being apart from them. I may not have the strength to do His bidding.”
I reached for his other hand, pulled him to his feet, and then released him to stand on his own. “You are the strongest man that I know, Sir Hugh. You will survive this.”
Still he shook his head.
“No, Gael, in that you are wrong. You are the stronger man of we two; you are just too humble to realize it.” He placed his hands upon my shoulders. “With your help, I may be able to hold this course, a course which is so contrary to my desires. Will you help me?”
I frowned, troubled by the implication of what he’d said. “I will help as much as I am able, but this vision was sent to you, not I. If Death comes to me, I will meet him gladly.”
“But the dream…”
“…Was for meant you. You are young, with the possibility of a long life stretched before you. I am old and tired…” I paused, and looked out along the lakeshore. “…And I should be walking this perimeter. Would you care to join me, or do you think you can go back to sleep?”
He scowled. “Let us walk, for I want no more of dreaming just now.”
<><><>
We had no luck finding any Uplanders the next morning, but our efforts at hunting were more successful. By mid-afternoon, the packhorses were laden with meat for the castle’s inhabitants. As we drew closer to our destination, it was decided that half of the party would return to Beckman with the provisions; the other half would roam a bit longer in search of a party of Uplanders.
Our band from Llewellan stayed with the hunt. If we found more meat, so much the better, but what we tracked was human in form.
There were eighteen of us, all well armed and well mounted. We reasoned that our odds were good. If we found a small party of Uplanders, we should be able to overcome them; if we stumbled onto a larger group—one that would be too sizeable to engage—we should be able to outrun them to escape, for very few Uplanders were able horsemen, and the numbers of their cavalry were few.
Just before we were ready to make camp at nightfall, Akimba’s scouts found some fresh signs of a band having passed nearby. The tracks were recent…and many in number. One scout estimated that the Uplanders numbered as many as thirty; the other scout disagreed, and thought we would face twenty Uplanders at most.
Akimba reasoned that if we knew that the Uplanders were near, they too might be aware of our presence. Making camp and waiting until dawn to meet the enemy sounded well and good, but not if they surprised us during the night. We decided to press forward, hoping that we might have the benefit of surprise. We rushed to prepare for battle, but still I found the time to seek out Larkin and give him a few last-minute instructions. He was flustered, but he settled down after I’d explained tactics to him for a bit.
“You understand now, do you?” I looked into his bright eyes, and willed him to remain steady.
He nodded. “I shall do my utmost not to disappoint you, Gael.”
I could not explain why, but it near broke my heart in twain to hear those words and see him offer up a trembling smile. Oh that my own boys had lived to be like Larkin! I gave his smooth cheek a fond pinch.
“I have no doubt you’ll do us proud, lad.” I beckoned towards his horse with a tilt of my head. “Now, mount up; try to stay near me.”
Night had fallen as we’d ridden towards the enemy. The scouts had located their camp, and were watching it as we made our advance. T
he Uplanders had stopped on the moor, and had sited their camp near a small, swift-running stream. There was a stand of trees bordering the rushing water, but otherwise, the landscape was open.
We grouped downwind of the Uplanders, and listened to some final whispered instructions from Akimba. He then urged us to remember those children’s skeletons in the cave. We readied ourselves to charge into the unsuspecting enemy.
Half of us waited while Akimba prepared to take the other group around to flank the side of camp. Hugh planned to go with Akimba, but he ordered me to remain with Rebeccah and Ioan. For a moment I forgot my place and quietly began to argue with him, but he stopped me with an angry look.
“I haven’t forgotten the blasted dream,” he whispered, “…but that doesn’t mean I need you next to me playing nursemaid. You made it clear how you feel about that.” He nodded his head in the direction of Rebeccah and Larkin, who were trying to calm their skittish horses. “If you feel the need to watch out for someone, do so with those two. I am loathe to see hurt come to my cousin or yon tender youth.”
“I will do as you bid me, Sir Hugh,” I grumbled, hurt to have been so chastised.
His response was to pat my arm.
“Do not fail to take care of yourself, Gael. I will have need of you after this fight.”
I sighed and nodded my head. At least he planned to survive, whether he liked the idea or not.
It seemed as if there was a buzzing inside my head. I felt suddenly energized; I could hardly sit still in the saddle. I could see and sense the restlessness in other men around me…and in Rebeccah, as well. Like the other knights, she had put on her breastplate, and she looked resplendent up on her horse; the polished metal of her armour flashed silver in the bright moonlight.
Weapons were drawn; we were more than ready to get into the fight and get it over with.
We heard what sounded like the hoot of an owl in the distance, then Rebeccah gave the signal, and we charged forward. Having taken a page from the Uplanders’ own war manual, we began bellowing our battle cries just as we reached the perimeter of the camp.
Surprised they may have been, but the Uplanders did not falter. Within moments they came to arms, and seconds later they were screeching their own war cries in answer to ours.
The noise was deafening. Horses were screaming; men were shouting in anger and pain; metal clashed and sang against metal.
The moon was at about three quarters; coupled with the light cast from the Uplanders’ campfires it was bright enough to tell friend from foe. Being mounted created a great advantage at first, but the Uplanders were seasoned warriors who did not quell before horse soldiers. They struck at both horses and riders; if either fell, the Uplanders gained an edge.
Before the assault, I’d taken Ioan aside and asked him to keep an eye on Larkin. He’d looked at me quizzically, smiled, and then offered this response:
“I am surprised at you, Gael. You need not have asked. I would have done it, regardless.”
Now he was holding to his word. As much as he was able, he kept his mount near Larkin’s. Though Larkin was swinging his sword and striking at the enemy, a couple of them who came his way were already mortally injured, having just run the gauntlet established ‘twixt Ioan and myself. That’s not to say that Larkin didn’t hold his own. Once, when I was being attacked from two sides and I thought surely my time had truly come, I suddenly found I was facing but one foe: Larkin had struck down the other.
After the first few minutes of fighting, any attempt to protect someone other than oneself became futile. Chaos reigned, and the Uplanders’ numbers, combined with their ferocity and physical size, began to tell. Though many of our party were yet mounted, a number of us had been either pulled from our mounts or had the horses killed out from under us.
I was one of those fallen. Though I’d survived my initial tumble from my wounded horse, I knew that I was at a grave disadvantage. All I was managing to do was to swing my sword at anything dressed in hide or fur, and I was in the act of doing just that when I realized the object I was striking at was, in fact, an animal. Its growl was deep, its slathering teeth sharp and snapping.
There were wolves among us.
Chapter Twelve
It was as if I’d been transported back to the Horbold Forest. The wolf was huge, menacing. It charged me, but this time I was prepared for an attack. My blade struck deep into its massive chest, and it fell twitching at my feet. I whirled, dazed, to see other wolves among the men. Their presence definitely struck a note of fear into the hearts of Akimba’s troops; some of the soldiers looked as if they might wheel and flee…and that was certainly what their mounts wished to do. But the wolves had another effect, as well. They were attacking anything that moved, including the Uplanders. Courageous battle cries turned to screams of fear. I managed to move closer to one of the campfires, where the wolves were less likely to venture. It seemed others had the same idea; there was a sudden stampede towards the fires by friend and foe alike. Two terrified-looking Uplanders charged right at me. I thought they were ganging up to kill me, but they shoved right past, to the far side of the blaze. One of the men grabbed a flaming brand. He was screaming something unintelligible. I knew not the meaning of the words, but their intent was made clear by his subsequent actions.
“Run…run away!”
He headed for the trees.
It seemed a pointless suggestion or order, since that was what many of the Uplanders were already doing.
Having recently suffered the consequences of dealing with animals panicked by a wolf attack, I was doing my best to avoid injury from frightened men and horses. I struck another Uplander as he attempted to run past me; he seemed oblivious to my presence until my blade met his gullet.
I had turned away from his fallen body, in search of another enemy, when I was thrown forward, hit by a blunt force from behind. I kept my feet and managed to turn to face another attack.
That I did not do. Sir Hugh’s strong arm reached down to grab me: he helped pull me up behind him on his charger.
We rode directly into one of the last remaining groups of Uplanders. They scattered before us like chaff in the wind. Those who could still run did thus, and a couple of Akimba’s knights ran down most of them before they reached the trees.
The wolves seemed to melt away. They were among us one moment, and then gone the next. We watched some of them go. They, too, headed for the trees, and I couldn’t help but wonder what might happen if the wolves managed to overtake the Uplanders.
We turned our attention to those people still in camp. The only Uplanders left were the wounded and the dead. Of our original eighteen, five—not counting the two of us—were still standing, or, rather, moving among the wounded and the slain.
From where we were, it was difficult to tell who was moving about.
“Do you see Ioan?” asked Sir Hugh.
I shook my head, and then realized Hugh couldn’t see me. I demurred. “No, not yet, but I think some of the men followed the Uplanders into the trees.”
“No, I saw them. One of them was Akimba. There was another, but it wasn’t Ioan.”
Hugh dismounted as he spoke those words, and then looked up at me.
“Let us see who is left.”
My rush of energy was over; fatigue was setting in. I dismounted slowly, and turned towards Hugh. He put his hands on my shoulders, and momentarily tipped his head down towards mine.
“Well, my loyal friend, we survived once more,” he said. He didn’t sound particularly happy.
“That we did,” I replied with just as much enthusiasm. I was so tired, and the thought of what lay ahead wearied me all the more. We needed to find and help the wounded; after that we would deal with those who hadn’t survived. Though I did want to find Ioan, my immediate concern was locating Larkin.
I didn’t need to: he found us before we’d moved more than a few steps. He came running towards us, and then surprised me by throwing his arms around me and slapping
my back in an emotional display of happiness.
“I thought you’d been lost! I was certain I saw you fall!”
I didn’t know how to respond to such enthusiasm on my behalf—though I certainly did appreciate the fond sentiment it represented—so it seemed best to try and distract the boy.
“Are you all right, lad? Are you hurt anywhere?”
He frowned as he framed his reply. “Only a bit; I’ll just be sore for a few days.”
“If you’re sure it can wait, we’ll take a look at you after the others are attended to.” I couldn’t resist tousling the boy’s hair. “It’s good to see you upright.”
That brought back a smile that he shared with both Sir Hugh and myself. “I’m so glad to see you two!”
