The Death Wish Read online

  “Pellin knew the consequences of helping him. With no thought to his own safety, Pellin bound up Ioan’s wounds and then headed home with him. Had the death squad caught them, both would have been killed, but, fortunately, they made their way to the safety of Llewellan, where Pellin’s wife, the Lady Sela, nursed Ioan back to health.”

  I had seen plenty of evil doings in my time, but the slaughter of the Hydorians seemed unconscionable. “Why didn’t Ioan stay at Llewellan; why did he return hither…to the place of those terrible deeds?”

  “This had been his family’s place of refuge; it is where they are buried; you cannot deny that it is a beautiful here, and after Morrwid’s death, the danger passed, so Ioan wished to return. Morrwid’s successor didn’t have the same fervor for killing, so it was relatively safe here. Most Hydorians were dead, after all, and over the years their very existence faded from history and became, instead, legend. Too, by the time of his return, Ioan had matured; he was capable of defending himself. He…” Hugh stopped, and looked again towards the stables. Ioan was coming around the corner of the corral. “Later…” he murmured.

  Ioan came towards us, a peaceful smile on his face. “All is well; the horse’s wounds are healing nicely. They’ll be ready to travel whenever you are, Gael, though if it were up to me, I’d give it another day or two.”

  I looked to Sir Hugh as I answered. “I know not whether we may tarry another day, Ioan. Your hospitality is much appreciated, but…”

  Hugh interrupted by waving away my objections. “Gael needs to rest. We can stay another day. Besides, when was the last time you had a practice partner, Ioan? Surely you would welcome the chance to have a go at me.”

  Ioan’s smile broadened. “Ahh, Hugh, I always enjoy taking you on.”

  I knew not of what they spoke. “Taking him on at what, Ioan?”

  Ioan moved as if to withdraw an imaginary sword from its sheath. He then took several steps; his footwork and upper body moved in rhythm to the make-believe weapon’s motion. He whirled and struck his imaginary foe. His form was perfect; I could imagine he might be an accomplished swordsman…but I had never seen a knight better than Hugh, so I doubted Ioan could be a match for him.

  Hugh slapped his palms upon his knees. “Then it’s settled. Both Gael and the horses have another day to mend, and tomorrow morning, we shall see whether or not Ioan’s lack of a training partner has affected his finesse.” He stood and turned to offer me a hand up. “You may have slumbered most of the day away, Gael, but I haven’t slept at all…I am weary to the bone.” He winked. “And if I am to do ‘battle’ on the morrow, I need my sleep.”

  “You’ll need more than sleep,” joked Ioan.

  “We shall see,” answered Hugh.

  <><><>

  That next morning, when I saw the two of them train, I realized for the first time what an art form swordsmanship could be. It was like watching an intricate dance, albeit a dangerous one. Each man adapted to the other’s rhythm; the two seemed well matched, and though I’d known Hugh was a great swordsman before, I had never had the opportunity to see just what he could do with a truly worthy opponent. I felt that I was watching a beautifully illustrated textbook lesson in every manner of swordplay. Some styles were familiar to me; others were completely foreign.

  Both men used blunted practice swords, and had donned mail for protection, but it was obvious that Hugh was more accustomed to its wear. He was, after all, taller and more heavily muscled; he could easily bear the weight of the mail: for Hugh its bulk was of little consequence, considering he was fighting without the weight of his full armour.

  I could see that Ioan, on the other hand, was troubled by the weight. They’d been training for more than an hour; their garments were soaked through with sweat; their breathing was laboured. Ioan asked for a break, and he called to me to help him remove the chain mail.

  Whilst helping him with his sword-belt, I tried to dissuade him. “You’ll put yourself at risk, Ioan. Though neither of you intend harm, it may come. Accidents do happen, after all, and the mail serves as protection.”

  “It is a hindrance at this point, and nothing more,” he replied. He looked into my eyes, and winked. “Trust me on this matter, Gael.”

  His words did not reassure me, but when I looked to Sir Hugh to protest, he shrugged and urged me on with a casual wave of one hand.

  Within moments Ioan was divested of his mail; both men had had a breather and a sip of water, so they saluted one another and began again.

  I stood back and gaped, realizing that I was watching genius at work. It seemed Ioan had been going easy on Hugh before, for he now had the complete advantage. All Hugh could manage was to defend himself, and though he did this ably enough, it soon became obvious that he was no match for Ioan. The bout ended with Hugh lying flat on his back; Ioan stood over him with his sword poised to strike again.

  “Do you yield, or must I run you through?” came Ioan’s flippant challenge.

  “I yield,” grumbled Hugh. “…As always,” he added as he held up his hand for Ioan to assist him.

  Ioan obliged and took Hugh’s hand, whereupon Hugh yanked Ioan to the ground. After a brief tussle that didn’t require too much effort on his part, Hugh had Ioan pinned, and as he held the lighter man’s shoulders to the grass, he demanded his surrender.

  “I yield,” groaned Ioan. “…As always,” he added as he laughed.

  Both men stood, and clapped one another on the shoulders. They turned and walked towards me, looking as if they had no cares in the world. I, too, felt fortunate in that moment, for I believed that I had witnessed a marvel that few men would ever see.

  I held out the water bucket. Ioan took the dipper to drink from, while Hugh tipped the bucket to his lips and drank deeply of the contents before pouring the remainder over his head.

  Still amazed at what I had witnessed, I asked Ioan, “Where ever did you learn to fight like that?”

  Ioan’s first response was to smile and look at Hugh, who was standing aside, still gasping for breath. “My first serious instructor was Hugh’s kinsman, Lord Pellin. I owe much of my skill…indeed, my very life…to that nobleman.” He paused to pull his wet hair away from his neck. “I have spent a number of years traveling afar, and have picked up a few techniques from other masters.” That was apparently all he had to say on the subject, for he dismissed it with a shrug. He gestured towards the lake. “…Either of you care to join me in a swim?”

  Hugh was already in the process of taking off his mail, and I moved to assist him as he refused Ioan’s offer. “No swimming for me: I’m going to collapse in the shallows to cool off or drown.” His breathing still hadn’t returned to normal, and I could see that his relative inactivity during the past two months had taken a toll: he was winded and weary from the unaccustomed exertion. I realized that neither of us was really conditioned for the battles to come…but, then again, we were committed to die fighting, so what did it matter?

  Ioan interrupted my morbid thoughts. “And you, Gael? Do you swim?”

  I shook my head. “Only enough to save myself from drowning. Perhaps I’ll pick up a few pointers by watching you.”

  “Right, then.” Ioan clapped Hugh across the shoulders. “Come and rest yourself, old man. Your age is telling.”

  I watched Ioan swim…and swim and swim. He could stay underwater for ages; several times I stood up to look for him, thinking surely he’d suffered a cramp and drowned. The exercise seemed not to tire him at all; instead, he seemed much more refreshed than Sir Hugh or myself, and all we had done during the duration of his swim was to sit at water’s edge and rest. When Ioan had had enough, we all walked back to his hut, and I left the two men to their own devices while I went to examine our horses.

  Upon my return, Hugh met me just outside the door of the hut and asked for a word in private. We strolled in the direction of the lake, and then stopped at a point where the view was superb. Sir Hugh began by asking me how I fared. When I replied t
hat I felt quite fit, he nodded, looked thoughtful, and then continued:

  “Gael, I know that this brief time here at Ioan’s has been a pleasant interlude, but do not believe for a moment that I have forgotten the purpose of our journey. Last night I dreamed of Hermione and Demorah. I miss them more than ever; I long to join them.” He had been looking at me up to this point, but he lowered his head and put a hand over his eyes. He took several slow, deep breaths before speaking again. “Your reason for this journey is no less important than mine, so I think that any change of plans should be mutually agreed upon.” He paused, giving me enough time to worry about the reason for this curious conversation. “I have told Ioan of our mission to aid Halwick, and he has asked to join us. Now, unlike you and I, Ioan harbors no death wish, but he is weary of his staid existence here, and he wishes for a challenge, some adventure.” Hugh placed his hand upon my shoulder; his gaze became direct. “If you agree with me…if you are willing to gain a companion, we shall all leave on the morrow.”

  I looked into his earnest face, and marveled at how little I had known him before the journey. I had always liked Hugh, and had been aware of his skill as a knight…I had helped in his training, after all…but I had not seen the whole man, his generosity of spirit, the great integrity I had so often witnessed in his father’s and brother’s behavior. Now I saw Hugh as he deserved to be seen, and I felt a twinge of remorse that such a noble young man should desire an early grave. There was so much potential yet to be fulfilled!

  He was waiting for an answer, and it was easy to give.

  “I see no reason to forbid Ioan’s coming with us save one.”

  Hugh’s brow furrowed. “And what might that objection be?”

  I smiled. “Now that I have witnessed his swordsmanship, I must admit to you that he could manage to thwart our objectives: if he goes into battle with us, he could possibly save our lives.”

  The preparations for our departure took little time for Hugh and myself, but Ioan had some affairs to be settled. We planned a brief detour to his nearest neighbor so that Ioan could tell him that the livestock left behind was now his to do with what he willed. Ioan packed up all the food that would keep, and he made up a bundle of herbs, bandages, and medicines should one of us be injured in battle.

  Since we’d decided to leave at break of day, Ioan had been relatively busy during the afternoon and evening. Finally, after supper, he had some time to spare; he excused himself and left the hut to walk towards the flower-bedecked hills.

  “I s’pose he’s taking one last look ‘round,” I murmured as I watched him go.

  “That…and he’s going to visit the graves,” replied Hugh. “This could be his final farewell to them if things are as bad as Halwick’s messenger said they are.”

  Hugh’s words were sobering, and I realized that I, too, wanted some time alone with my thoughts. I mumbled something about checking the horses, and departed for the stables. As I checked the harness and went ‘round to all of the horses, stroking their muzzles and quietly calling them by name, I thought about Sarei…and the pain of our separation came anew. I wanted to get on with it, to go into battle and lash out with all of the fury of a man with nothing to live for. I wanted the pain to end, and, if Hugh was correct in his view of the afterworld, to be reunited once more with my beloved Sarei. I so wanted a reunion with her…and then I thought of my long-lost children, and considered the possibility of seeing them, as well. I’d managed to suppress my sorrow and yearning for them for years, but it returned afresh. Yes, I was ready to move on from this earthly realm to the next, and I left the stables with new resolve, eager for the morning light to come so that we might be on our way.

  I caught up with Ioan on the pathway back to the hut. He was walking slowly, his head lowered and a hand clutched to his chest. I realized that his attitude was a mirror image of my own, for I’d been traipsing along in much the same manner.

  “Are you well, Ioan?”

  He stopped and turned at the sound of my voice; his expression was wistful. “Would that I could say so: I am never well after visiting their graves.” He sighed. “After all these many years, my heart still aches when I think of them…of the manner in which they died.” He bowed his head and slowly turned it from side to side. “I tried to protect my sisters, but the soldiers were too brutish, too strong, and I was such an inexperienced fighter! My efforts were futile. I didn’t even slow them down, and I had to hang there and watch my sisters…they....” He didn’t finish, and I didn’t want him to: I could imagine what terrible thing had happened next.

  As he spoke those words, I realized why Ioan had driven himself so hard in mastering the sword. He hadn’t been able to protect his family—he was only a child then, after all—but he’d since made certain that he wouldn’t be put in that position ever again. I tried to think of some comforting response, but no words came to mind. I placed a hand on his shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze, and then I walked with him in silence as we returned to the hut.

  Chapter Four

  We’d traveled for two days, and were nearing the only town of any genuine size between Halwick’s lands and Llewellan. The town was called Beechfeld; it was large enough to boast a bustling market, a charming village green, a stone church, and a tolerably decent inn. The innkeeper, a blustery fellow who’d partaken of too much of his own ale, was obsequious to Sir Hugh to the point of annoyance. Seldom did the innkeeper have noblemen stop to stay, and it was obvious he enjoyed the prospect of bragging to his mates regarding the imminent personage visiting his humble place of business. Hugh showed great patience with the man’s meandering rhetoric, but it was late evening; we were hungry and wanted a simple meal and a comfortable bed. Hugh plunked down the coin agreed upon.

  “You shall have our best room!” the innkeeper exclaimed with a low bow and a swooping flourish of his arm.

  “Show the way,” replied Hugh.

  <><><>

  It was late, and we were looking to our sleeping arrangements when a knock upon the door announced yet another intrusion. (The innkeeper had been by to check that all was in order more than once.) I took up the lamp and moved to answer, and I couldn’t help but smile in response to Sir Hugh’s grimace at the thought of another encounter with our host.

  I pulled the door open, and was surprised to find not the innkeeper, but a stranger upon the threshold. He was a youngster, a lad in his teens, lissome of build, but relatively tall, one of those coltish youths who still has the soft look of their mother…he was years away from seeing a whisker. By his manner of dress, I judged him to be in service; he had a sword sheathed and belted ‘round his waist, a bow and quiver at his back, and he held a bundle under one arm.

  He gave me one brief look of appraisal or appeal…I couldn’t tell which…then gazed down at the tips of his boots and launched into his speech.

  “If you please, I should like a word with yon knight.”

  His accent was strange; I couldn’t place its origin.

  “It is late, boy, and Sir Hugh is weary from his journey.”

  He raised his dark eyes to meet mine; his look was full of entreaty. “Please…I shall try not to take up much of his time…but it is important.”

  I looked over my shoulder to where Hugh sat in a chair by the window. He rolled his eyes, then gave a slight nod.

  “Come in, then, but make it quick, boy,” I said.

  The lad walked straight across the room and knelt at Hugh’s feet.

  “Sir Knight, I come to petition you to take me into your service, for I find myself in dire straits and in need of a sponsor. I’ve been cast adrift in this backwater of a village due to my liege lord’s untimely death from the flux. We were on our way to aid Halwick of Beckman when Sir Kerrick was taken ill…and I have been stranded here for days on end, hoping for some knight to come by this place and accept me into…”

  “Whoa, boy. Back up. Sir Kerrick?”

  The lad nodded. “Sir Kerrick of Tolmund.”

&n
bsp; Hugh looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shook his head. “Never heard of him,” he mumbled.

  The lad apparently took that as a bad sign. He put a hand over his eyes for a moment, and murmured, “May it please you, Sir Knight, I am a hard worker; I will do your bidding; I have my own mount; I can…”

  He stopped, because Sir Hugh had moved to place his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “Enough begging, boy. I already have the best help a knight could ever hope for, and he has a few good years of service left in him…” Here he stole a glance at me and winked. “But…wait a moment, I haven’t said no to you…” The lad had begun to rise. “I suppose you could ride with us to Beckman Castle. There will be many knights there, and surely one of them is in need of a squire. We may be able to wrangle you a new position.”

  “Then I may come with you?” The pitch of his voice rose even as he looked up at Hugh. “Oh, Sir Knight, you won’t have cause to regret this. I will do whatever you need; I can…”

  “We already covered this ground, did we not?”

  “Of course, Sir Knight…” The youth began a nervous chewing of his thumbnail, but then realized what he was about and put his hands to his sides.

  “Well, boy, I am Hugh, son of Denholm.”

  “I am here to do your bidding, Sir Hugh,” was the lad’s response.

  “And your name?” Hugh prompted him.

  “Oh!” His hand flew to his mouth, as if he’d suddenly realized his lapse. He recovered, and then bowed low. “I am Larkin of Tolmund…at your service.”

  “Well, Larkin, we shall leave early…after we break our fast.” Hugh touched Larkin’s elbow to signal him to rise, and then he gestured across the room in my direction.

  “This is Gael. You’ll want to follow his lead. Ask him any questions about arms, and he is likely to know the answer. His specialty is the bow, but he is an able opponent with all weapons…so do not get on his wrong side,” he added with a mischievous grin.