The Death Wish Read online

  The horses were displaying characteristic behavior in the face of a wolf attack: they had gone completely mad and were rearing, bucking, screaming, and trying to loose their lines, though not one of them had yet been touched. The wolves circled, snapping their slathering jaws and darting in and around the horses’ flailing hooves.

  Though bold beyond the norm, the pack faltered. These were not sluggish farm animals they’d chosen to attack, instead they were massive warhorses, and, panicked or no, they were incredibly dangerous. One heavy hoof made contact, and the startled wolf turned for the trees, its howls receding into the distance.

  Hugh and I ran shouting into the fracas. I swung at a wolf that was facing off with my horse. It avoided my blade, darting to one side and then another. I heard another wolf yip behind me, even as Hugh’s triumphant bellow announced some measure of success. Another wolf circled around me, and I managed one brutal stroke to its back quarters. It crumpled into a heap and howled its agony. Those sounds of pain were mingled with others: another wolf had circled the pack horse’s hind quarters and managed to draw blood, but within seconds the wolf was knocked back and away by a couple of swift kicks. I rushed towards the panicked horse to chase that wolf away, but apparently the wolves had decided to go for smaller targets: men.

  The wolf turned and charged me, practically leaping into my open arms, and my shock almost cost me dearly. We both went down in a rolling tumble of snapping jaws and scrambling limbs. There was little for me to do with my blade with the beast on top of me. Instead, I used the sword’s hilt and repeatedly whacked at the skull and those deadly teeth. Being frenzied with battle-lust and fear, I didn’t realize I’d won the engagement until the bloodied beast collapsed onto my chest. Breathing hard, I struggled to my feet, calling for Hugh, but the words had barely left my mouth when one of the horses struck me down with its flailing hooves. I rolled away, and attempted to rise again, but the earth and the sky seemed to commingle: I didn’t know up from down, yet nature had its way. I hit the dirt.

  I heard Hugh’s anxious voice somewhere nearby.

  “Gael, can you hear me?”

  My head was muzzy; I groggily looked up into Hugh’s earnestly concerned face. If I’d doubted his regard for me before, there was no further need: he looked miserable with worry.

  He repeated his query. “I say, good fellow, can you hear me?”

  I nodded, and then regretted the movement with a groan. “Are they gone?” I asked.

  “For now they are, but more could come. I’ve heard them howling in the forest; we cannot remain here.” His placed a gentle hand upon my shoulder. “If I lift you onto your horse, do you think you could stay upright? I would lead him…” His voice trailed away, as if he already doubted his intended course of action.

  “Do we have any choice?” I could see by his expression that our options were few.

  He smiled. “I could throw you over the back like a sack of grain, but I doubt that would improve the headache you must certainly have.”

  “I shall attempt to remain upright,” I muttered, even as I endeavored to sit up. The earth seemed to spin faster, and my disorientation became acute. I put a hand to my head, and was surprised to find a bulky, makeshift bandage around my crown. “How long have I been out?”

  “Just a few minutes…long enough for me to staunch the bleeding, bandage your head, and calm the horses enough to saddle them.”

  My dizziness had abated somewhat, and I couldn’t help but enjoy the irony of his taking on the role of servant. “You saddled the horses? I did not know you knew how to.”

  “Sack of grain, then?” was his wicked response as he approached with hands held as if to grapple me.

  I waved that off. “No…thank you for your care; I seriously doubt that I could have lifted a saddle just now, much less saddled a horse.”

  Hugh chuckled, and moved to offer me a hand up. With Hugh’s assistance I stood. I wobbled for a moment, and he held me steady. In truth, I couldn’t imagine how I was going to mount my huge horse; simply walking to him seemed to take all of the energy I possessed. Hugh surprised me by hoisting me up and plunking me onto the saddle. Had I not been experiencing a horrible wave of nausea, I would have commented upon his physical prowess, but soon I was busying myself by leaning over the opposite side of the horse and vomiting.

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  The journey was miserable. I had no true idea of how long we rode: what seemed hours to me may have been a fairly brief time. My head was pounding, my vision blurry, and it took every bit of energy I possessed to remain upon the horse’s back. After an interminable period, I heard Hugh announce that he could see our goal, a faint light somewhere to the west. I had no idea where he’d brought us, and, in truth, I did not care as long as I was able to get off of the horse and collapse. Actually, I didn’t manage it in that order: I fainted and then fell off, which would have truly hurt had I be conscious enough to feel it.

  I could hear the sounds of a fire crackling in the hearth coupled with the hushed voices of two men. It was still dark…or was my vision yet distorted?…and my head hurt enough that I didn’t want to turn it to look all around. I could smell some spices brewing, lemon-balm, ginger and turmeric, probably medicinal, and there was another smell that permeated the hut…something strange, out of place. It took me a moment to realize what it was, then I couldn’t help but wonder at the curiosity: the place smelled of rain, the kind of green spring rain you relish with rapt pleasure after a long, cold winter. It was soothing, and I felt great comfort at being cared for and sheltered.

  A figure moved towards me. The motion was fluid, the form lithe. At first glance, I thought it might be a woman, but I soon realized my error. Instead, the figure approaching me was a slender, well-proportioned young man. He was wearing a long robe…another reason for my mistake…and he had flowing, red-gold hair that shimmered like polished copper in the firelight. Though my vision was blurry, I could see him well enough as he drew near and bent over me. It had been a strange night, and the vision I saw made it seem all the more peculiar. I would have sworn that I’d seen this face in the sculptures in the chapel at home: he had perfection in feature coupled with the serenity of expression of the angels and saints depicted in the nave. His skin was pale as marble. Had I died and gone to Heaven? Could this be an angel?

  That idea lasted but a second. No, the pain I felt seemed earthly; my reunion with Sarei was not yet to be.

  The angel of mercy gently cradled my head to drink of the fragrant potion he’d brewed.

  “This will help you sleep.” His baritone voice was soothing to the ear.

  I drank a few sips. The brew’s smell was better than its slightly bitter taste, but if it helped me sleep, I was willing to imbibe.

  “Thanks to you, stranger, for offering aid,” I murmured as I settled back.

  He smiled. “Not a stranger…not to Hugh, at any rate; we have been friends for many a year.” He bowed his head slightly. “I am happy to be of service to him and to you, Gael. I am Ioan, son of Lloried.”

  “Then my thanks to you, Ioan.” Though I was interested in this curious person, I was more amazed at how quickly his concoction was working. I found my eyelids growing heavy, though I’d only drunk the potion moments before.

  “Getting sleepy?” he asked, as if reading my mind.

  “Very.”

  “Hugh tells me that you have suffered some terrible times. Sleep is restorative; make the most of it.” He gave my shoulder a gentle pat, and then returned to the hearth, where he joined Hugh on a bench. They spoke to one another, keeping their voices low, and I found myself listening to their murmurs as I drifted into oblivion.

  Chapter Three

  I woke many hours later, only to find myself alone in the hut. Though my head…and in fact, most of my body…was still aching a bit, I was amazed that I was no more the worse for wear. I was, in fact, quite hungry, and I hoped that the generosity of our host would extend itself to a meal. I sat up slowly, waiting to
feel the dizziness return, and when it did not, I took the next step and rose from the bed to go to the doorway. I opened the door, and stood there in amazement as I looked at the pastoral scene spread before me.

  Ioan’s cozy rock hut was located in what could only be described as the next best thing to Paradise. It was a beautiful green valley, sheltered by hills to the north and south, forest to the east…though it was probably Horbold Forest, it was far enough away that the menace seemed to have vanished…and, finally, a sparkling crystal lake to the west. The late afternoon sunlight made long shadows on the emerald-green grass; a riot of multi-coloured flowers bloomed in abundance on the hillsides; birds sang in the glossy-leaved trees. Lord Geoffrey’s holdings had many fine vistas, but I’d never seen a lovelier spot.

  In spite of all those wonders to enjoy, I didn’t see Ioan or Hugh. I walked further from the house, where I had a better sight line of the lake’s shoreline, and sure enough, Hugh was at the water’s edge, a fishing pole in hand, looking totally at peace.

  I called his name, and he waved a hand in greeting.

  “How are you feeling? Better, I hope?” he said.

  I responded as I walked towards him. “I shall be better still if you’ve caught us some fish for supper.”

  He didn’t answer verbally; instead he bent down to pick something from the ground. He straightened, and in his hand he held a line full of fish. “Will these do?” he asked.

  “Enough for me, surely,” I answered in jest.

  I soon reached the sun-dappled spot where he’d chosen to fish. I looked out over the sparkling water, and then turned to look from whence I’d come. “It is so beautiful here, so very peaceful. Your friend Ioan must count himself lucky to dwell in such a place.”

  Hugh’s expression was thoughtful. “It hasn’t always been so peaceful, but, yes, I do believe he likes it here.”

  “Where is he, anyway?”

  He gestured towards the water with a nod of his head. “He’s taking his daily swim. See there, out near the middle? Those ripples in the water are likely Ioan.”

  It seemed a long distance to me, but then again, I’d never known anyone who swam daily.

  “Isn’t the water cold?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “Then why does he do it?”

  Hugh’s smile was mysterious. “You’ll understand soon enough.” He gestured towards the fish he’d caught. “Do you feel well enough to help me clean these, or would you rather sun yourself here on this soft bank?”

  It didn’t take much thought. “The soft bank is appealing, but the fish even more so. The work will go faster if we both clean.”

  Hugh had put down the fish to gather other gear, and as I reached down for the line, I had to steady myself when that o’er-hasty movement gave me a dizzy spell.

  “Take it slowly,” urged Hugh as he caught at my arm. “We shall have the job done soon enough.” He turned at the sound of water splashing nearby. “See, even now our host comes.”

  I turned towards the bank, and watched as Ioan emerged from the water. He wore no clothing, and his pale body shimmered in the late afternoon sunlight, almost in the same way the fishes’ scales flashed iridescent light. He spotted us, waved and smiled, and then shook his head and long hair as a dog shakes his fur, flinging arcs of sparkling water every which way. We laughed, and beckoned him to join us.

  He detoured enough to grab the clothing he’d left on the bank, and he was rubbing himself down with his shirt as he approached. As he moved closer, I could see him clearly, and I couldn’t help but notice a frightful scar on his torso. It looked as if someone had run him through…and made a ragged job of it. That was the only obvious imperfection of his athletic form. Apparently, swimming made for good exercise, for rarely had I seen a knight more fit than the youngster moving towards us. He seemed to notice the direction of my gaze, and then self-consciously pulled on his shirt.

  “And was the sleep restorative, Gael?” he asked solicitously.

  “More so than I would have believed, and I’ll warrant your potion had something to do with that. I wouldn’t mind learning some of your herb lore, young man.”

  For some reason both he and Hugh laughed at my request, but I didn’t have time to wonder why, for Ioan posed another question.

  “Are you hungry, then?”

  “Hungry as a wolf.”

  We feasted with great relish on the fish, fried potatoes and assorted greens. We then moved outdoors to sit, and proceeded to top off our bellies with strawberries as we enjoyed the twilit peace of the evening. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so content. Hugh’s spirits seemed lifted, as well. It was strange that our mission to get ourselves killed had suddenly become pleasurable. I felt some small twinge of guilt, feeling that I’d betrayed Sarei’s memory by feeling good for a change, but then I mentally chastised myself, knowing that that was precisely how Sarei would wish for me to feel: content.

  Ioan excused himself, saying he had to look to the animals in the corral and stable. I made a feeble protest, saying that was my job, but both Hugh and Ioan brushed my words aside: Ioan said he was glad of the exercise…that he was too full to sit still.

  After he’d left, I sought more information about our unusual host.

  “Sir Hugh, we are so far from home yet we’ve had the good fortune to find shelter with someone you know. How did your friendship with Ioan come about?”

  “He has been a friend to my family for many years. He feels he is in our debt, though I imagine the debt is long paid.”

  “Why would he be in your debt…if you do not mind my asking?”

  Hugh sighed and looked skyward, as the first stars that were beginning to glimmer in the azure sky. “One of my kinsmen saved Ioan’s life when Ioan was but a child. This kinsman put himself at some personal risk to do so, and Ioan has never forgotten.”

  “Which kinsman? Would I know him?”

  “No, I am certain you would not.” Hugh turned to look at me, and then grinned. “I suppose that it’s time I told you. The kinsman of whom I spoke was my great, great, great, great, great grandfather.” Hugh stopped, and absently scratched at his whiskers. “How many ‘greats’ did I say? Ahh, well, it’s too many to keep track of. Anyway, it happened more than one hundred-fifty years ago.”

  He’d lost me, and I told him so. “I’m confused. This ancestor of yours saved one of Ioan’s forbearers?” Surely I’d misunderstood him.

  “No. He saved Ioan. You see, Gael, Ioan is at least one hundred seventy years old.”

  I simply stared at him for several seconds. “You’re having me on, Sir Hugh. Ioan’s barely gotten his whiskers; he’s hardly more than a lad.” I guffawed. “Why are you telling me this?” I’d never heard such an absurd tale.

  Hugh clapped my shoulder. “I know that it’s hard to believe, but Ioan isn’t like us, Gael. He’s of an ancient breed…you may have heard of them…the Hydorians.”

  I had heard of the Hydorians, in stories ‘round the fire when I was a child, and had been fascinated by the idea of a people who were as comfortable in water as they were on land. Still, the tales were of a breed of man long gone…if they had ever existed at all. “But they are legend…I never heard that they were real.” I looked at him sideways. “You are having me on, aren’t you?”

  He held his fist to his heart. “You have my word, Gael. I tell you truly. You’ve seen him; surely you’ve noticed some of the differences…his skin, for instance, and his eyes. Have you seen how they take on the color of their surroundings? Sky, water, firelight? Hydorians live indefinitely; they suffer no illness…”

  It seemed an opportune time to interrupt. “If they cannot die, then why are they so few…why have they passed into legend? Are there any Hydorians besides Ioan?”

  Hugh shook his head. “I did not say they couldn’t die; I said they suffer no illness. The reason there are so few Hydorians…Ioan may be the last, for all I know…is they can be killed. They have been systematicall
y hunted down and murdered, most during the reign of Morrwid the Second. When Morrwid made up his mind to rid his lands of the Hydorians, he ordered his soldiers to slaughter all Hydorians they encountered…and when that didn’t kill them off quickly enough, he began to send out death squads. In spite of the threats of the squads, some people took pity on those wretched water-folk and attempted to hide them, but all too often those compassionate souls were killed alongside the Hydorians.”

  “But why? Why did Morrwid hate them so?”

  Hugh shrugged. “How could you or I comprehend that kind of evil?” Hugh held up an open palm. “I cannot say for certain, but I believe that Morrwid was afraid of them.”

  “Afraid? But, why? What threat were they to him?”

  Hugh exhaled and shook his head. “Who can say? The Hydorians were different, and many people strike out at those who they do not understand…those they fear. Morrwid was not the first to torment the Hydorians; there were other kings who ran them off or had them killed. Morrwid may have been the first to send out death squads, though.”

  “So that’s what happened with Ioan? Your kinsman saved him from the soldiers?”

  Hugh demurred. “Not exactly.” He glanced towards the stables, checking for Ioan’s return. “Pellin, my great-something grandfather, was returning home from the very place to which you and I journey: Piereene, the lands that now belong to Halwick of Beckman were, even then, the home of our kin. One of Morrwid’s death squads had attacked this little haven of tranquility where Lloried and his family had taken refuge. Ioan’s family…his mother and father, two sisters and a brother…were cruelly slaughtered. Ioan, too, had been left for dead. Pellin found him impaled, a spear through his side, pinned to the wooden door of the stables. He thought him dead until he took down Ioan’s body to bury him with the others. The boy stirred, moaned, and then, fortunately, passed out again.