The Death Wish

by Jules Marks

  “She is not dead!” yelled the Upland commander. He bared his sharpened teeth, stomped, and began to retreat into the darkness, but just as suddenly he returned.

  “Would you send another in…to see that she is alive?”

  Akimba appeared to take time to consider this, though I imagined it was what he’d planned all along. “I will agree to this…if you agree to remain on the ledge, where one of my archers can shoot out your eye if my soldier does not return from the darkness.”

  The commander didn’t take long to consider the offer. He yelled something down the passage, and then turned and gestured to Akimba. “Send him here.”

  Akimba turned to look at the men surrounding him, and his gaze fell on me as I knelt beside Andrus.

  “Gael, will you do this for me? Will you tell me how badly she is hurt?”

  He knew my answer before he’d asked. I nodded, and began climbing the short slope, even as Akimba had one of the men-at-arms bring forth his bow and make ready to draw it if needed.

  When I passed the wolf/commander, he growled. It was simply bravado…he knew he was at a disadvantage. I rolled my eyes, snorted, and continued on my way down that awful passage…down to pass before Lukos, the wolf king.

  <><><>

  The smell of burned flesh hung heavy in the air. It was difficult for my eyes to adjust to the torchlight at first, but soon I could see clearly enough. One of the common Uplanders led me by my arm along one side of the cavern. Apparently, the Uplanders’ aim was to keep me as far away from Lukos as possible. He was on the opposite side of the cavern, in that painted niche that Ioan had discovered. Two Upland warriors stood in front of it, and I could see the other wolf/commander standing inside, speaking to a seated warrior. There was a great deal of arguing, growling, and grumbling coming from the niche. I was curious to witness more, but knew that my mission to see Rebeccah took precedence.

  They’d placed her in another dark recess, but the Uplander who led me brought a torch. He stood and held it aloft—he seemed surprisingly respectful—and allowed me to go past and see his captive.

  She was bound, lying on a pallet of furs. Her breastplate and mail had been removed, and some of her clothing had been torn away, as well. She stirred when she heard us approach, and shied away for a moment, until I spoke her name and she realized who came hence.

  “Gael?” Her voice was weak, but she turned her head towards the light, the better to see me. “Oh, Gael! It’s good to see a friendly face!”

  It was hard for me to respond with the same enthusiasm, for I was attempting to hide my shock and concern. She looked as if she’d been severely beaten: the left side of her face was covered with dried blood; one eye was purple and almost swollen shut; her lower lip was split, and one side of her cheek looked as if it had been clawed. She moved as one sorely injured; though her hands were tied, I could see she guarded her right arm by the way she held it against her body. Her tunic was ripped partway down the front, and I was horrified to see what looked like vicious bite marks and claw wounds around her neck and bosom. I didn’t want to think about whether or not those bites extended further.

  I knelt beside her, and lightly touched a finger to her cheek. “Oh, my lady! It hurts my heart to see you in such distress.” I wanted to say something more to comfort her, but my mind was blank.

  “We can worry about me later, Gael. I heard them speak of a dark lord. Is Akimba out there?…is Ioan?”

  Even before I could answer, she’d read something in my eyes.

  “Which is it? What has happened?”

  “Akimba is here, my lady. Ioan couldn’t come…”

  “He’s not dead?” she whispered.

  I shook my head. “No, but he’s not able to fight. Larkin is with him…”

  Rebeccah closed her eyes and showed me a blissful smile. “Oh, that dear girl! I’m so glad she survived the battle.” Her smile was fleeting as she looked again into my eyes. “It’s Hugh, isn’t it? Is that why you look so careworn and mournful, Gael?”

  I began to nod, but didn’t get an opportunity to answer. Someone shouted from the other side of the cavern, and our guard said something to Rebeccah and then took my arm to pull me up.

  Rebeccah spoke to him in his own tongue, and he paused, and answered her back in a quiet voice.

  She sighed. “You have to go back, Gael.” She gestured towards our guard. “When the fight comes, if there is any way this man’s life can be spared, please see to it: he has been kind to me. He stopped one of the others from…well, let’s just say that he stopped him.”

  It seemed her guard knew not what she spoke; he pulled at my arm again, and gestured for me to come with him. He left Rebeccah with a deferential nod, and guided me along the cave’s wall to the exit.

  The wolf commander seemed relieved at my return. As soon as I cleared the entrance, he moved back into the darkness a few steps, apparently glad that his ordeal was at an end…temporarily at least.

  I hurried down as fast as my aching body could take me.

  “Well?” Akimba’s impatience was revealed in his atypical abruptness.

  “Your knights and the Uplander spoke the truth: though I wasn’t allowed to examine her, from what I could see, the lady has no wound that should not heal. She is in good spirits and asks after you…and Ioan.”

  He frowned. “How much did you tell her?”

  “Only that he was injured.”

  “Good.” He looked down, sighed, and then reached out and clapped my shoulder. (I did my best not to wince.) “Thank you, Gael.” He turned away, and beckoned his commanders join him. I returned to Andrus, to finish tending him.

  I was surprised at Akimba when he moved forward to speak with the wolf/commander. He was visibly limping, and for the first time all day, he didn’t try to mask his pain.

  “It is time to fight,” he said in an impatient tone. “Tell you master to release his prisoner. Once this is done, if he comes out to fight and if he kills me, you are all free to go on your way. You have my word on this, and my men all bear witness to it.”

  “What if you kill him?” asked the commander in a low voice. “What happens to the rest of us?”

  Akimba knew he needed to barter. “If he releases the prisoner, and agrees to fight me, the rest of you go free…regardless of the outcome.” He gestured towards the darkness in the cave, and suppressed a groan as he did so. “Now tell him. Let us be done with this. I do not wish to stand here waiting all day.”

  The commander was gone for almost half an hour. I’m certain some of the soldiers were wondering at Akimba’s strategy; for my part, I felt I’d begun to figure it out. Finally, we heard movement come from the darkness.

  Lady Rebeccah and her Upland guard appeared on the ledge. Now she was bound and gagged. Thankfully, her torn clothing had been rearranged a bit: her neck and chest were covered. She managed to hold herself erect, and she nodded down at Akimba, in what surely was an effort to reassure him.

  The soldiers around me were grumbling when they saw how she’d been treated. I heard murmurs to the effect that all of the Uplanders would be killed, regardless of Akimba’s promise. Akimba heard this, too, and he held up a hand to stop the noise.

  I watched him look up at her. Their eyes seemed to lock, then soften. He put his hand to his mouth and pressed his fingers to his lips in a gesture I’m certain she understood, but their tender scene was interrupted by the arrival of the other Uplanders on the ledge.

  Down came the two common Upland warriors, and the wolf commanders followed them. They stood before us not fifteen paces away, at the base of the cliffs.

  We waited for Lukos to appear, but it seemed he was the sort who liked to make an entrance: he made us wait several more minutes before he exited the cave.

  He was frightening to look upon. He was tall, probably as tall as Akimba, and powerfully built as well. Like the other Uplanders, he dressed in fur, but in addition, he wore a woven girdle of gold around his waist. There were carved gold ba
nds around his wrists and biceps, and his wolf headdress was topped by a spiked, golden crown. His amber eyes seemed to glow with malevolence; his face was painted dark gray, and, like the others, behind red lips his teeth had been sharpened to points.

  He looked at the crowd of men arrayed before him, and then looked to Akimba. He pointed at him. “First, we parley. Then I will kill you.” His sepulchral voice was self-assured, to say the least. He turned and placed his fingers on Rebeccah’s chin, and gave it what on any other occasion might seem an affectionate shake. She pulled back and glared at him in response, and he chuckled as he turned away.

  With as much dignity as one can muster when descending, he made his way down the slope, and then he stood, arms crossed, waiting for Akimba to advance. Akimba moved forward several paces, and stopped.

  “You agree to the terms established?” The hate in Akimba’s voice was tangible.

  Lukos snorted. “Those terms to save my men? Yes, I agree, Dark Lord. As to our fight, I have more demands to make.” He pointed to Akimba. “You wear breastplate and mail, an unfair advantage. Remove them.”

  Akimba sighed, and appeared annoyed. He gestured for Den to begin stripping his armour. He suppressed a groan when Den eased the mail over his head, and, after its removal, he absently rubbed at his ribs, as if the movement had exacerbated an injury. (I felt certain that it had.) “What else?” he said. “Do you choose the weapons, as well?”

  Lukos seemed almost indifferent, as if he was master of all arms. He shrugged. “The sword…or perhaps the axe?”

  Though we all knew Akimba had a preference, he, too, appeared blasé. He held up both palms. “Let’s get this over with quickly. The axe, then?”

  Lukos stared at him for a moment, and then shook his head. “No…I think I prefer the sword. We can prolong the sport that way.”

  Akimba shrugged. “As you wish.” He surprised us all by ordering Den to help him remove his tunic.

  “This, as well, my lord?” asked Den, as if he had missed one of Lukos’ demands.

  Akimba shot him a sideways glare. “I am burning hot. This garment offers me no protection, so I have no need of it. Do you question my order?”

  Shaking his head, Den rushed to assist him.

  The removal of the tunic certainly had an affect. Akimba’s physique was so very impressive, I saw a flicker of doubt in the Upland warriors’ eyes. But Akimba did have some binding around his broken ribs, and this, too, was obvious for all to see.

  Lukos, alone, seemed not intimidated.

  As he drew his sword, he turned to Akimba. “It is only fair to tell you, Dark Lord, that I have nothing to fear from you. The manner of my death was prophesized years ago: I can only be killed by a lion.” He smirked. “…And I have yet to meet one.”

  Akimba’s deep rumble of laughter surprised one and all. It took him several moments to master his mirth.

  The wolf king tipped his head low, and looked at Akimba through narrowed eyes. “What is it you find worth laughing at, Dark Lord…here at the hour of your death?”

  Akimba held his sword high in salute, and then lowered it, chuckling once more. “It is only fair that I tell you, Wolf Whelp, that in my native country, my name ‘Akimba’ means ‘Son of the Lion.’” He gestured with his left hand for Lukos to begin. “Let us see if the prophecy holds true.”

  The air rang with the sounds of their singing blades. Lukos was fit and rested, and Akimba was obviously not. They were a bit tentative at first, feeling one another out, but soon they went at it with gusto. Under normal circumstances, I believe Akimba could have killed Lukos within the first minute. Nevertheless, Akimba’s form was not up to the standard I’d seen when he practiced with Ioan: his body had been through too much trauma since then. His diminished abilities seemed to make the contest an even one. The warriors seemed relatively well matched: both men had several close calls; both drew blood with wild swipes. Still, thankfully for Akimba, the injuries were minor.

  After the first few minutes, Akimba was winded and sweating. Lukos could see this, and he became more aggressive…and careless. After Akimba had driven to the fore, crossing his blade with Lukos’, he then staggered to the side, seeming almost to fall. Lukos saw his opportunity, and he lunged forward to impale his foe.

  In that moment I realized that there was, after all, a strategy game Akimba was good at. His diminished ability had been a bluff: now Akimba was faster than a darting fish in water. In one fluid motion, he sidestepped, pivoted, and slashed his sword down on the wolf king’s neck. The head plopped to the ground—Lukos’ amber eyes were still blinking—and his body fell forward and lay pulsing and twitching in the dirt.

  Akimba dropped to his knees; he was panting and smiling up at Rebeccah at the same time.

  Still, for some soldiers, the conflict had not been resolved. The wolf commanders simultaneously flew at Akimba. Being one of those nearest them, I jumped to his aid, and found myself between one Uplander and Akimba. I braced for the charge, and realized that Akimba was already up and next to me, ready for the second commander.

  The commanders seemed unstrung, maniacal…and completely without form or finesse. Much to my surprise (and satisfaction), I’d killed the one charging me before Akimba dispatched the other.

  Being thus occupied, we were unaware of what was happening around us. The other three Uplanders standing there had not been so intent upon suicide. They placed their hands on their heads to surrender. I looked up, to where the last Uplander stood with Lady Rebeccah. He was holding her tight, with a knife pointed near her breast. With solemn dignity, he stared down at us, at his fallen king and commanders, at Akimba. He said something to Rebeccah—none of us could hear or understand—and then he lowered the knife and cut her bonds.

  As we traveled back to Castle Beckman, Akimba sought me out. He thanked me for my intervention on his behalf, and I attempted to make light of it, saying he would have done the same for me, had our positions been reversed. He looked at me for a moment, and then smiled.

  “Yes, Gael, given the opportunity, I believe that I would.”

  He removed his gauntlet as he rode, and without his having to ask, I returned the ring. He tapped at his little finger. “And now I’ll have the chance to give it to her myself.” He bit his lower lip and looked troubled. “I’m not certain what I shall say…”

  “You will think of something, My Lord.”

  He smiled, and agreed, and was about to ride on to rejoin Rebeccah when I thought to mention something that was troubling me.

  “Do you think it a miracle, my Lord Akimba?…the coincidence of your name and the prophecy?”

  He started to chuckle, and then moved into full-blown sonorous laughter. It took some time before he was able to respond. He clapped my shoulder—again—and shook his head. “I’m sorry to disabuse you of your holy notion, Gael, but I wouldn’t feel right if I maintained the deception. God may, indeed, have had a hand in the victory, but not because of the prophecy. I’m happy to say my ruse did the trick, but my name doesn’t truly mean ‘Son of the Lion.’”

  “What does it mean, then, my lord?”

  “Nothing so threatening. It means ‘One Who Laughs.’”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Akimba insisted on carrying Rebeccah up the stairs to her chambers. I thought it unwise, considering he, in truth, should have someone carry him. Still, he was adamant, and I knew, by this time, that there was no point in arguing with either of those two. As we parted, Rebeccah called to me, and asked that I check on Ioan and report back to her without delay. She then directed her flustered lady-in-waiting to have Anya sent for.

  Though weary beyond belief, I hurried down the hallway to our quarters. I was eager to see Ioan, and more than ready to hold Larkin in my arms to hug her close.

  If someone had struck me down I could not have felt worse. There was no one in the rooms; both beds were empty. As far as Ioan was concerned, I felt that could only mean one thing. Though I doubted there had been any
thing I could have done to save him, I still felt the bitter sorrow of having been absent at the time of his passing. Too weary now to go further, I sat down upon Ioan’s bed, and wondered how I could possibly face Lady Rebeccah with the news. I sat there in the growing darkness of early evening gloom, and as I thought about Ioan…and Hugh…my spirit began the melancholy drift into a profound state of grief. My heart felt heavy, and it was difficult for me to rise, but I knew that I must: I had to find Larkin, to learn what had happened. I walked to the window, and looked down into the twilit garden below.

  I saw her sitting on a bench next to the pond. I assumed that she’d gone there, to that lovely spot, to deal with her woe. I leaned my forehead upon the cool glass, and watched her for a few moments, as I, too, tried to master my grief.