Amphiskios

Chapter VII Final Gesture

The strands of hide cut deeply into his wrists and ankles and Anthon wondered at the strength of the savage woman who had tied him.

He knew that he was close to the end of his life and felt nothing but fury that his life should have ended in such a meaningless fashion. He would have willingly died in striking one more blow against the rule of the infamous Shawn.

These four savages had fought bravely. At least two of them had.

In the beginning, when he had been searched, when they had found on him the sketch of the castle defences, when he had been condemned to Lassa to fight against savages until he at last was killed, he had thought it best that to go into combat with the idea of being sufficiently clumsy so that death would come easily.

He knew that it would pain his friends, his relatives and those who had plotted with him against Shawn to see his death on the screen, but it had seemed worth the candle to spite Shawn’s plan for him to provide sport and entertainment.

Thus, during the training period, he had made no special effort to become adept with sword and axe as had the loyal officers, who looked upon Lassa not as punishment but as a field where they could gain fame.

He had nothing but contempt for those officers who put personal gain above the needs of the race, above the spirit of rebellion. But Anthon was human — he was a victim of hope — and he found that he did not wish to die so pointlessly.

Possibly, if he remained alive for a sufficiently long period, the Empire would be overthrown and he would be free to help build a new world for mankind. Anthon was a sensitive and intelligent man. He recognized the basic weakness of his stand, and the forlorn slimness of his hope. And now the last of his hope was gone.

Incomprehensibly the girl had saved him from his own sword, held in the uninjured hand of the huge sunburned savage. Basically it was his own fault. Had he been able to steel himself to cut the throat of the woman with one back-handed slash he could then have disposed of the man.

He wondered ironically if the savage woman had saved him from the sword thrust out of some desire to repay him for not being able to strike the blow that would kill her. Surely, when Kor attacked, either the girl or the man would have one free moment in which to kill their bound captive before they died.

He pitied the two of them. They had been brought from their own world of the past to fight vainly against force that would eventually quell them. The girl knelt beside him and, with a bit of cloth, wiped away the blood at the base of his throat. Her eyes were as gentle as her touch.

Anthon wondered at the odd feeling of warmth within him. It had first occurred when he had seen her, standing with the smaller one with the yellow hair. He had not liked the death of the smaller one. He had wanted to interpose himself, to save her, but his resolve had come too late.

And the smaller man had died like a warrior, crippled a strong man even as he died.

He looked up into the blue eyes of the woman in the ragged dark red dress and something in her look was like a note of strange music. He smiled as he thought of the absurdity of feeling affection — even love — for one of the savage dead.

Yet, philosophically speaking, was she dead? She could feel pain and cold and fear. Her touch was gentle. Yes, this was a far different sort of being than the lean, rather astringent women of his own class. This savage one had a deep, lusty strength about her. And she was incredibly brave. She had smiled and when she had asked for death the meaning was clear.

He had but few words of her archaic tongue. He said, “Why not kill?”

“Why it speaks busted English,” Mary said. “Why not kill you? Look, pretty boy. I want to live. Mary wants to live. Understand? How can I do that?”

“Mary,” he said, rolling the name softly on his lips.

“That’s right. Mary. Who are you?”

“Anthon. You will die.”

“You say the nicest things, Tony. But you didn’t say that fiercely now, did you? You said it like you didn’t care for the idea very much but it was inevitable.”

“No understand,” he said and he wanted her to take some more. He wanted very much to hear the sound of her voice.

“You’re the soft one of the group, aren’t you? The only one that doesn’t seem to get a crazy joy out of killing off the innocent.”

With his few words it was hard to tell her what he wanted to say. “If another way. If not die. Mary and Anthon.”

Her laugh was husky silver. “Bless him! I get it, Tony. If not die maybe you’re right. I like the look of you, lad.”

She stood up quickly as Joe shouted hoarsely. The other warrior stood in the mouth of the cave. Anthon saw the dangling end of vine and knew how the man had been outwitted by Kor.

Kor was between the savage man and the mouth of the cave. The man had no chance. The man fought bravely with his club, but Kor parried the blow, slashed the man across the face. The man, his face spurting blood staggered back.

With another slash of the sword Kor disemboweled him and the man toppled slowly over, fell out of sight. Anthon heard the crash as the man struck the floor of the valley below the cave mouth.

The girl, holding the crude spear rushed at Kor, trying to prod him over the edge. Anthon found himself wishing that she would be successful, wishing it so hard that his teeth almost met in his lower lip.

Kor twisted away from the thrust.

Anthon saw the ready blade and he screamed, “No! Don’t—”

His scream faded into a sob. The girl with the dark hair lay face down on the cave floor, coughed once and then was still.

Kor came smiling forward and said, “Rebel, you live to try your luck again. Why they kept you alive I’ll never know.”

With a flick of the sword blade he severed the thongs that bound Anthon. Anthon moved as though in a dream. He waited a moment until feeling came back to his numbed hands. He reached for his own sword, came up off the floor with a roar of rage, with inhuman strength born of fury.

The startled Kor parried the first blow but the second caught him at the angle of neck and shoulder. The blade severed bone. Kor dropped with the blade still in him.

Still blind with anger, Anthon spread his arms wide, looked up at the silver box above him and said, “Would that it was Shawn who received that blow. Shawn and every one of his assassins and his thieves and the criminals who surround him.

“It is time that we are done with Shawn and his brood. It is time that we were free. It is time for every man of courage to stand upright and fight off oppression. We are not as free as these poor savages who die on Lassa.”

And then Anthon realized that with his first words the scanner would have been turned off, that he spoke only to the empty cave of death. He walked two heavy paces, sank on his knees beside the body of the girl and began to sob hoarsely.