Flight of the Fallen

23 Sir Remmik’s Challenge

The Tarmak army was still on the move when the trackers returned with their prisoners late in the afternoon of the next day. The forces of the Akkad-Ur had crossed the river two days before, but rather than follow the example of the elves and strike straight across the interior desert, the Tarmaks turned southwest to follow the Run around the southern border of Duntollik. Although this route would also take them through harsh desert lands, it provided a road for guidance and it paralleled the Red Rose River, the western branch of the Toranth, for over a hundred miles. It led to the small towns of Stone Rose and Willik and eventually to Duntol, the largest city in the area. The Akkad-Ur, a veteran of many campaigns, knew he did not need to pursue the band of militia and their tribal reinforcements into the wilds of the desert. Eventually, the defenders of Duntollik would have to come to him.

Under orders from the Akkad-Ur, the trackers took the prisoners directly to the slave gangs and turned them over to the Tarmak overseer. The overseer cut them loose from the horses, chained their feet, and forced them to march in front of him until the Akkad-Ur called a halt for the night at sundown. As the army settled into its camp for some rest, the overseer separated the rest of the Knights of Solamnia and added them to Linsha’s group, which he kept under heavy guard in a place a little apart from the other slaves. The Knights milled around for a short while then sat apart from Linsha and Mariana and waited.

Linsha, too, waited with some trepidation. Although no one had said anything, she was certain they were being kept aside for the Akkad-Ur to interrogate. After all, she and Mariana had been with the tribal confederation for two days, and Sir Remmik and his escort had ridden through the camps. They all were probably due for some questioning, and Linsha doubted it would be pleasant.

She wondered, too, about a reunion with Lanther. She had missed his presence and his crooked smile, but they had not parted in the best of circumstances. Would he be angry? She could see him standing at the edge of the slave camp, his arms crossed, his weight shifted to his good leg, his rugged face glowering at the Tarmak guards as they watched the prisoners.

Thoughts of Crucible crossed her mind as well. She and the others had been brought in slung across the backs of their horses. It was hard to see anything when your nose and face are being bumped and rubbed by the rib cage of a horse. She hadn’t seen Crucible, but she knew he was still there by the distant sound of a dragon roar shortly after the army made camp.

The night grew later, and still there was no sign of the Akkad-Ur or anyone else of authority. No one brought them water or food or gave any indication that they were supposed to do anything more than wait. A new moon slowly settled to the west, and a cold breeze sprang up. Sometime near midnight, Linsha thought she heard an owl cry far away. And that was all. The warriors of the Tarmak slept, while the prisoners shivered in the wind and waited for day.

The army was awake and preparing to move in the early light of morning when the Akkad-Ur and his guards rode down the lines to the rear of the camp where the wagons were being loaded and oxen hitched to their yokes. Among the dust and the crack of whips, they rode swiftly, their blue-painted skins an odd contrast to the yellows, browns, and dusty reds around them. They stopped their horses by the small group of prisoners and dismounted.

The overseer was already busy with the tasks of the day, but he dropped his work on his second underling and hurried over to the greet the Akkad-Ur.

Mariana, Linsha, the Knights, and Sir Remmik climbed warily to their feet, as their guards moved aside and formed a loose square around them. The Akkad-Ur’s escort filled in the line behind the prisoners and he strode to their front.

The busy slaves and drivers close by seemed to sense something was about to happen and they stopped work to watch. Lanther crept closer, his face grim.

“Sir Remmik, did you fulfill your task?” the Akkad-Ur demanded of the Knight.

“I did,” he replied coolly. “The answer was no. They are determined to fight.”

“Good. It is much better that way.”

“Akkad-Ur,” said the Solamnic commander in a firm voice. “You told me if I returned with the reply, you would free my men.”

The Akkad-Ur inclined his mask. “That is true. However, you disobeyed me, and you had to be brought back by my men. I did not ask you to apprehend this woman.”

Sir Remmik threw a scathing look at the guards around him. “I did not. I arranged a meeting with her to discuss Solamnic matters. Your warriors interrupted that meeting and apprehended all of us.”

“Solamnic matters!” The Akkad-Ur sneered. “What have you left to discuss with a traitor?”

Sir Remmik drew himself up to his full height and gave the Tarmak his chilliest patrician glare. “The possibility that she is not a traitor,” he said. “And that you are a liar.”

“It is unimportant. The Solamnics are no longer of use.” The Akkad-Ur raised his hand. Swords flashed in the sunlight as the Tarmak guards drew their long blades. Before anyone could move, they slew six of the unarmed Knights. The rest scrambled in a sudden panic to escape from the tall warriors. Sir Remmik yelled at his men to stand their ground, and he leaped like a madman on a warrior attacking a wounded Knight.

Shouts and cries of horror came from the watching slaves, who crowded closer.

The Knight Commander was so distracted trying to defend his men that he did not see the Akkad-Ur attack the women. The Tarmak descended on Mariana and Linsha like an executioner, pulling a vicious-looking spiked battle-ax from a strap behind his back. “As for you,” he bellowed at Linsha, “you tried to escape, but you will never have that opportunity again!”

Even while he spoke he turned slightly, lunged, and stabbed the spiked end into the half-elf’s stomach. He wrenched the point upward through her stomach and into her lungs. Blood splashed over his hands.

Sir Remmik heard Linsha scream, an appalled cry of fury and grief that wrenched his attention around to her. He turned and saw Mariana vomit a bout of crimson blood. Her hands groped at the metal spike in her abdomen, but she was already dying. Her skin went deathly pale beneath the splattered blood. She sagged to her knees, her face a mask of disbelief and agonizing pain. When the Akkad-Ur pulled his ax out of her body, she pitched forward at Linsha’s feet, and her blood pooled on the graveled ground.

Reacting without thought, Linsha kicked the ax from the Akkad-Ur’s hand and sent it spinning to the ground. She landed another kick on his stomach that doubled him over and launched herself after the fallen weapon.

But Sir Remmik was faster. The Knight Commander snatched the ax from the dirt and threw himself at the Akkad-Ur just as the guards reached him. The two combatants fell to the ground locked together in the Knight’s death grip. The golden mask slipped off and clanged to the ground.

There was a shout and abruptly everything stopped. The Tarmak guards froze, their swords pointed at Sir Remmik’s throat. The Knight paused, the ax blade pressed to the Akkad-Ur’s neck. A silence closed in, and the tension crackled through the violent tableau.

Sir Remmik stared bleakly at his men. Besides Linsha, only three other Knights were standing and two of them were badly wounded. The rest lay motionless on the blood-soaked ground. His eyes switched to Mariana and recognized that she was dead as well. Regret clouded his gaze, then he looked up and found Linsha’s green eyes staring at him unflinching, the anger and sadness still burning in the depths of her clear green gaze. The very uncomfortable feeling that had begun to creep over his thoughts on the trail to the Grandfather Tree was now forged into a solid conviction.

“You are not in the service of the Tarmak,” he said to her alone, ignoring the swords at his throat and the general in his grip.

The Akkad-Ur answered for her. “I wish she was. She is the most stubborn and loyal female I have ever had the pleasure to meet.”

Sir Remmik’s eyes closed. He was breathing heavily under the weight of the larger Tarmak across his chest. “So, you were lying to me,” he said to the Akkad-Ur.

“It was effective. You brought her out where my men could recapture her. You have been a most useful tool. But now—” he dared a gesture at the warriors around him. “We are in a standoff. You wish to kill me, and they wish to kill you. What do we do?”

“Let my men go,” Sir Remmik said forcefully. “Honor your word. You have dishonored me and slaughtered my unarmed men without reason. You have betrayed us. Release the Knights— all of them. Or we die together. Now.”

“There is no need for both of us to die. You surprise me. I can count on one hand the number of men who have brought me to my back. Would you fight me to free your Knights and yourself?”

“What? A duel?” Sir Remmik hissed, his hand still firm on the axe at the Akkad-Ur’s neck. “I could just kill you now.”

“And you and your Knights would die a moment later.”

“You will kill them anyway.”

“By the sacred gold mask of Kadulawa’ah that I wear, I swear I will free your men if you choose to fight.”

“If I fight, you must free Linsha as well.”

“Very well.” The Akkad-Ur smiled a feral grimace. “Ket-rhild!” he said to his men. “A challenge!”

The guards stood back, talking excitedly. The Tarmaks were a warrior society who placed much emphasis on honor and the glory of single combat. And they always enjoyed watching their leader slaughter an inept human.

Sir Remmik pulled his weight off the ax and stood up. He did not look at Linsha again.

One of the guards lifted a curved ram’s horn and blew three blasts that were quickly answered from somewhere near the front of the line. The entire Tarmak army stopped what it was doing and paused while the high ranking officers hurried to the call of the Akkad-Ur. Meanwhile, the other guards hurried away from the dead Solamnic Knights and reformed a larger square in a clear, open area. Sir Remmik was quickly and firmly escorted to the square and placed in a corner. He was given a stool to sit on, honeyed wine to drink, and a light offering of food to revive his strength. Weapons were brought to him for his inspection. The Akkad-Ur occupied the opposite corner and received the same preparations.

While all this bustling activity was going on around her, Linsha crouched beside Mariana’s body and bowed her head. There were no tears in her eyes, because she was too numb, too full of disbelief. Her head ached with unshed tears, her belly churned with rage. She could not accept that Mariana was dead. All she could think about was how she would tell Sir Hugh.

Hands gripped her arms and pulled her gently to her feet. She saw a glimpse of Lanther’s vivid blue eyes and buried her face in his shoulder. “I should never… have let her… come with me,” she said. “She wanted to make sure I would be safe.” Her throat ached with a grief she could not articulate.

The Legionnaire wrapped his arms around her and held her so tightly she could hear his heartbeat. “She was your friend, Linsha,” he said in a choked voice. “You would have done the same for her.”

She rested there for a brief space of time, appreciating his comfort and strength. Then a groan of pain penetrated the hum of noise that surrounded them. It drew Linsha’s attention back to the wounded Knights and her duty. She pulled herself back under control and wiped her face on her sleeves. Relieved to have something else to think about for the moment, she took Lanther’s hand and hurried to help them.

One Knight was unharmed and greeted Linsha with gratitude. Together, he and Linsha moved the two wounded men into the shade of a clump of tall thornbushes and began to examine their wounds. The overseer sent a few slaves to carry away Mariana and the dead Knights and bury them in the desert sand before the vultures arrived.

Linsha and the Knight did what they could for the wounded, but she did not give them much hope. Their wounds were severe. They had no healers, no herbs, no bandages, and unless the Tarmak took pity on them and let them ride in wagons, they had little chance of surviving the next march.

“Let me keep a watch on them,” the Knight said to her. “Go and witness Sir Remmik’s duel. Someone should be there for him.”

Linsha was sure Sir Remmik would rather have anyone else than her witness his duel. “I don’t think—” she began, until she remembered that one of the wounded Knights was this man’s best friend. Her eyes strayed to the bloody spot where Mariana had died, and she nodded without a word.

Taking Lanther’s hand in hers, she went with him to the square of Tarmak guards waiting patiently for the duel to begin. She looked at Sir Remmik, and her eyes bulged. If she hadn’t been feeling so miserable, she would have sunk to the ground in hysterical laughter. The Tarmaks—much to Sir Remmik’s obvious disgust—had stripped off the remains of his tattered uniform and painted his skin blue with the paint they all used so liberally. They had expected him to fight naked, but he had managed to rescue his pants and stood glowering while the warriors finished painting him. The moment they finished, he tried to scrape it off with the blade of his sword.

Linsha hurried around the square to his corner. “Sir Remmik!” she hissed. “Leave it on! It helps heal wounds!”

He scowled at her, but he left the paint alone after that and turned his attention to the sword the Tarmaks had given him.

Across the square from the Knight, the Akkad-Ur had finished his preparations. He gave a curt command and strutted to the center of the space. He wore nothing but the blue paint and the feathers twisted into his long hair. His golden mask rested in the hands of one of his guards in the corner. He carried nothing but a sword.

Seeing the Akkad-Ur without his mask, Linsha guessed both man and Tarmak were close to the same age. However, the Akkad-Ur stood a good foot-and-a-half taller than Sir Remmik and had a healthy, muscular build. The Knight had lost weight the past few months and was certainly not in top physical condition. Nor had Linsha known him to participate in any of the training or conditioning sessions the arms master used to hold at the Citadel. She feared this duel would not last very long.

The Akkad-Ur must have thought so too, for he did not bother to look at Sir Remmik when the Knight Commander walked forward to meet him. Without any preliminary speeches, rattling of drums, or bowing to one’s opponent, the two foes lifted their swords and the battle began.

Sir Remmik struck first with a speed and a ferocity that took everyone by surprise, including the Akkad-Ur. He lunged forward, his blade swinging in a wicked arc that forced the Akkad-Ur to take several steps back and swing his sword in a defensive parry. The blades clashed and swung again. The Knight pressed his slim advantage and kept after the Tarmak with a solid barrage of thrusts and swings that allowed his opponent little opportunity for offensive moves. Even so the Akkad-Ur did not allow him past his guard. Back and forth across the square, they fought in a bitter struggle that looked surprisingly well matched.

For a while Linsha feared Sir Remmik would wear down from his grueling attack. He was sweating profusely and breathing hard, but the Knight showed remarkable stamina and more skill than she had known he possessed. He ducked and wove and lunged like a much younger man and did not seem to be tiring. Above the crash of the swords and the cheers of the watching Brutes, Linsha felt Lanther move close behind her. He stayed at her back and watched the fight avidly. He seemed to be strangely agitated, for he was breathing heavily and his hands jerked and swayed as if he was swinging a sword in his mind. His eyes were focused with brilliant intensity on the fighters in the square. When she put a hand on his arm, he started and stared at her as if she shouldn’t be there. A particularly loud cheer brought both of them around to look in the square.

Despite Sir Remmik’s powerful attack, the Akkad-Ur had drawn first blood. His blade flashed past Remmik’s and the Knight staggered hack with blood running down from a slash across his thigh. He regained his balance just in time to avoid a lunge by the Akkad-Ur, who came after him grinning like a wolf. Sir Remmik waded back into the fight, followed by the cheers and insults of the watching Tarmaks.

Soon Linsha noticed both combatants were sweating in the heat of the morning, and both looked like they were tiring. Their swings were slower and less controlled. Their tactics became more brutal. When their swords locked, they used fists and elbows to punch and hit. Sir Remmik lashed out his foot and kicked the big Tarmak in the back of the knee, bringing the warrior down. When he tried to follow through with a powerful swing meant to cut his foe in half, the Akkad-Ur locked both feet around the Knight’s and tripped him into the dust. They rolled away from each other, spitting dust and blood.

The Akkad-Ur sprang back to his feet, all arrogance forgotten, and brutally assaulted Sir Remmik with his sword, forcing the smaller man backward with sheer brute size and strength. Sir Remmik barely avoided slamming into the one of the guards and managed to duck under the Akkad-Ur’s arm long enough to cut him on the ribs. Now both foes were bleeding, and the excitement of the watching Tarmaks had reached a fever pitch.

The fight went on in a dust-stirring, swirling chaos of attacks and counterattacks until the Tarmak’s advantage began to show. Sir Remmik was on the defensive now and bleeding from several wounds. The fury and agility he had shown earlier was gone, and in its place was a second strength born of desperation. Pressing, he lunged again, but his aim was off and the Akkad-Ur slammed his blade aside. The Akkad-Ur moved in close and punched the hilt of his sword into Sir Remmik’s face. Blood spurted from the Knight’s nose and lip, his head snapped back, and he staggered. Stunned as he was, still he kept a grip on his sword. He jammed the point into the ground and used it to prop his weight while he twisted sideways and kicked the Akkad-Ur just below the breastbone. The Tarmak, already off balance and weary, did not have quite enough strength to force his body away from the blow. It landed solidly on his torso and drove the air from his lungs. He fell to the ground, gasping for air.

Sir Remmik summoned his last vestiges of his will, raised his sword, and rammed the point into the Tarmak’s chest, seating it between the ribs with his final strength.

A look of pained surprise contorted the Akkad-Ur’s face. He shuddered once and jerked in the throes approaching death. His breathing stilled; his muscles collapsed. His arms and legs sank down to the sand as his body relaxed into lifelessness.

Exhausted and trembling in every limb, the Knight Commander sank to his knees and leaned his weight on the upright sword. The Tarmaks stopped in mid-shout. A long and terrible silence enclosed the square.

The Akkad-Ur was dead.