11. Lukas
11
LUKAS
A fter two days walking in the sun the freckles on Elric’s skin have grown darker, his cheeks and chin are flecked with hair the same bright orange as the hair on his head. His silken shirt is stained and his fine linen breeches are creased and dirty from sitting on the ground. But his skin is still quite pale despite the sunshine. And right now, as he looks at Lukas, that skin seems even paler.
Lukas stares at him. He can’t understand what Elric has just said. He feels suddenly cold. His belly churns. He turns Elric’s words over and over as if he’s examining them for some other meaning.
Could it be true? What could his glorious, honourable, warrior brother have possibly done to enflame the Empire? Zai’s laws are cruel. But Damon, despite his bastardry, is one of Azuria’s most favoured sons. “Damon was whipped?” he says, surprised at how shaky his voice sounds.
“After he was whipped he was exiled. Taken to an island with his back still laid open and left.”
Lukas’s heart is beating hard in his chest like he’s getting ready to run. “But he was not killed? You did not see him die? He was not executed in public?” It comes out like he’s pleading. But Lukas knows the highest nobles are rarely executed in public in Azuria.
Damon is strong. Always so strong. He can’t be dead. Not Damon. There was never a man so impossible to kill. He was in the Imperial Army for over twenty years. Once, long ago, Lukas used to spar with Damon. Lukas was good but Damon was better. Damon, even as a boy, was skilled with a sword in a way that took the breath of men who had fought for years. Lukas had seen Damon besting skilled swordsmen from the age of eleven. He cannot be dead.
“He still lived when they took him down from the scaffold,” Elric says, each word a clanging bell under the trees. “Although the whipping was brutal. But to be exiled in that state. It would be a death sentence. It was meant to be.”
“What did he do?” says Lukas, because he truly cannot believe Damon would ever have committed a crime against Zai serious enough to lose his life, “Damon?”
“There were two parts. The whipping and the exile were for different crimes. The whipping was a stead. He took it for a slave, his slave who was accused of murder.”
Lukas frowns. “You cannot offer stead for a slave.”
Elric smiles a small smile, but there is nothing in it but sadness. “You can if the slave is a lover. Damon claimed he loved the slave as a husband loves a wife. And the slave claimed to return that love. Doroth Zain allowed it. He said there was something in the Book of the Rules. And it was a male slave so…” Elric trails off, his meaning clear.
Lukas cannot believe what Elric is telling him. None of this feels real. This cannot be true, can it? Not Damon. Damon who their father favoured so. Damon with his beautiful wife.
Lukas feels very alone in the sun-dappled forest. Small and cold and alone.
How could this have happened and he not know? How could he not know such a thing about Damon? His brother. His brother he left behind. His brother who is dead. Dead. Damon can’t be dead.
Quietly, Lukas says, “Damon is sly?”
“There were always rumours about it.”
“I never heard any such rumours.”
“They were whispers. But there were many. Perhaps the whispers never reached you.”
“So that was why he was exiled. Sins of the body?”
“The exile was for sins of the body, yes. The flogging stead was…” Elric’s voice trails away.
“What?” Lukas says. “Tell me, Underlia.”
Lukas sees Elric swallow. He truly does not enjoy delivering news like this. “The slave murdered your brother Prince Endrew at a Pleasure Night.”
Lukas gives a small nod. Endrew too. Lukas doesn’t know quite how he feels about that. Endrew, his father’s younger legitimate son, had been a babe when he left the Rose Palace. Although he must be a man grown now. Must have been . So, two brothers gone in brutal moments. Although news of Endrew’s death has not knocked the breath from him the way news of Damon’s did.
“What is it with my brother Damon and taking stead punishments?” Lukas says, “I am surprised he didn’t turn up in Lunatum to offer his hand for mine. Fucking noble bastard.” He can’t be dead. Not Damon.
“Your father grieves for Damon so deeply he has left Attar and gone to his palace in Ceruleum. He has given up his seat at the Rose Court. Some people think he may never speak to Emperor Selim again,” Elric says gravely. “I’m sorry about Endrew and about Damon.”
Lukas shakes his head. “I never knew Endrew. He had not even seen his first summer when I left. And Damon…” he pauses. Damon had been his rival, his father’s favoured bastard. Damon was an Imperial soldier. A tool of the cruel Azurian Empire. Damon. Lukas swallows. “Damon and I were not friends,” he states walking again. Heading towards the pitted track through the woods. But Damon had cared for him, Lukas knew that. Damon had been there for him when he had needed him. When Lukas had cried for his mother in the night, Damon had been there. Damon had held him and told him Rafus was kind, Rafus would take care of him.
Lukas feels the rope go taught as he walks and then slacken again as Elric has no choice but to follow. He catches up with Lukas. They walk abreast for a few paces before Lukas says, “Where was he sent?”
“Damon?”
Lukas nods. “Where was he exiled for his crimes?”
“His isle. Sanvicta. He was gifted it?—”
Lukas interrupts. “I know why Damon was given Sanvicta. For enslaving Pluma-Ferris. For the fucking Ferric Wall.”
“Yes.”
“And he was seriously injured enough that he would surely die abandoned on that island?” Lukas keeps his voice steady, emotionless. He isn’t sure what emotions he is feeling. Damon simply cannot be dead. He doesn’t look at Elric. His eyes are on the trees in the distance.
“I’m sorry. As I say, I was there at his flogging. It was savage. One hundred lashes. It would have been a death sentence for the slave, but Damon survived it.”
Lukas takes a long breath. It helps a little. “My family are cruel. They treat their kin the way they treat all of the Empire. If they disposed of Damon he must have been of no more use to them as a violent force to kill innocents.” He pauses, searching for something else to say. He settles on, “Who has been named Duke of Vashti now Endrew is dead?”
“Prince Umbert. Your sister’s son.”
Lukas laughs. “Truly. He is barely more than a babe in arms. I’m surprised Atticul didn’t claim both dukedoms for himself.” Atticul, Lukas thinks of him. He must be delighted that Damon is fallen. Atticul had not hidden how pleased he was when it was decided that Damon was to be sent away to war. And, Lukas is certain, Atticul’s glee must have turned to ashes when Damon proved himself a supremely competent warrior and his time in the Imperial Army only added to the Empire’s belief in him.
Lukas wonders if Atticul is somehow the architect of Damon’s great fall. He doubts it, but only because Atticul was always such a fool.
Tightly, with his throat aching, Lukas says, “Atticul knows in his heart, he will never be emperor. And he is right.”
Elric says, “Atticul? He is heir, second. He will one day be a cruel emperor.”
“Oh, he would be,” Lukas says, “if he became emperor he would be cruel, I don’t doubt it. But it will never happen. He will not be emperor.” Ahead he can see the end of the trees now. The cart is beyond the woods. He can see the sunlight catch Red Wolf’s hair. It doesn’t seem real.
“Then who will be emperor after your father? Some people did used to say Damon ought to be legitimised but now that cannot be. And there was once talk about Kerik, but he has been gone five years.” Elric pauses. “You don’t think…? You don’t imagine yourself on the Imperial throne?”
Lukas laughs sharply, a single syllable, like a bark. “No, Underlia. In Zai’s name, no. What I mean is that there will not be another Emperor of Azuria. When we trade you we will join with the Plumians and take Attar back in the name of the people. We will kill Selim and end the rule of the Dareks. My father will never be Emperor of Azuria and nor will Atticul.”
“Really” says Elric. His eyes look bright at the prospect. Elric seems to delight in treasonous suggestions.
Lukas looks at Elric. Something inside him is burning. A savage fire. He wants to do something. He doesn’t want to think. “Let’s catch up with the cart,” he says. He wants to do something. His blood is racing. Something stupid.
The cart is only a few hundred yards ahead. Lukas picks up the pace, walking fast. They emerge from the forest and Lukas starts to march towards the cart, towing Elric behind on the rope. As soon as he is in earshot he calls out, “Lamb, repeat to me what you said the day we left about what happened at the Rose Palace.”
Little Lamb turns about, “What?” he says, small face crumpled into an irritated frown.
Inga stills the cart, stopping the horse. Red Wolf sits up.
Lukas pays no heed to Elric trailing behind him as he gets closer. He yells, “You fucking heard me, Lamb. Say it again. Say shit about me again.” He hands the bowl of mushrooms to Red Wolf in the cart.
Red Wolf takes them and says, “Lucky?”
“Stay out of this, Wolf,” Lukas growls back. He keeps moving towards the front of the cart and calls out to Little Lamb again, “Come on you big fuck, it’s time to settle this. Tell me what you really think of me.”
Little Lamb plants his hands on his hips. He looks as immovable as a rock. “What do you fucking want, Silverhand,” he says thickly.
Lukas turns to Elric, behind him. “Stay right where you are,” he says as he drops the rope attached to Elric’s wrists and charges towards Little Lamb shouting, “I’ve had enough of the things you say about me, Little Lamb. You want to fight me about what happened five fucking years ago. Come on then. Fucking fight me.”
“Zai’s cock,” Red Wolf mutters, behind him. “Lucky,” he calls out, after him. “Don’t do this. Calm yourself.” But Lukas ignores him. He hears Red Wolf say to Elric behind him, “What did you do?”
But as Red Wolf says that, Lukas reaches Little Lamb and barrels into him with a force that would have sent a normal-sized person sprawling, but Little Lamb is of such a size, that he doesn’t move. Lukas’s hook is at Little Lamb’s throat, about to plunge into flesh, but Little Lamb grabs Lukas’s wrist. He wrenches the hook down, leaving nothing but a small red scrape behind.
Little Lamb twists Lukas’s arm up behind him, grunting. Lukas swallows a cry of pain. He fights in Little Lamb’s grip. He’s strong but his ability to fight is long gone and Little Lamb is a giant pile of solid muscle.
It only takes moments for Little Lamb to slam Lukas down on the ground. Little Lamb drops on top of him, the weight hits Lukas’s chest, forcing all the breath from his body.
A few feet away he hears the sound of Red Wolf, jumping out of the cart. He’s shouting, “Oh, now come on. That’s enough.” Marko is yipping herself into a frenzy somewhere.
Before Lukas hears anything more, Little Lamb punches him hard in the face.
Lukas feels something break under Little Lamb’s knuckles. He lets it. He wants this. He wants pain to stop his thoughts.
He only has the vaguest sense of Red Wolf, grabbing at Little Lamb’s shoulder. Through blurry eyes he sees Little Lamb turn and easily, almost lazily, his meaty fist connects with Red Wolf’s jaw. Red Wolf goes down, flat out on his back.
Marko growls, a sound Lukas isn’t sure he’s ever heard from her before. She leaps up at Little Lamb and he swats her away like a fly. She whimpers as she skitters over the grass, going whining to worry at Red Wolf on the ground. Red Wolf makes a bleary sound to calm her.
Little Lamb turns his attention back to Lukas. Lukas is on his back and Little Lamb is pinning his hook down above his head in one meaty fist. Without the hook, Lukas is defenceless. Little Lamb is so big. Lukas is certain Little Lamb could kill him with one correctly placed punch. He looks up into Little Lamb’s reddened face.
“Fuck your fucking brother,” he spits, through his swelling mouth. “Fuck all of those fucks that died at the Rose Palace.”
Little Lamb pauses, looking down at Lukas. He seems shocked by what Lukas has just said. Lukas can see how much Little Lamb would dearly love to kill him in this moment. But he doesn’t hit Lukas again. He growls out slowly, “Take that back, Silverhand.”
“I’ll take it back when you accept the truth of it, Lamb,” Lukas spits through his bloodied mouth. “We were betrayed. It wasn’t my fault. I’m sorry I fucking escaped. I’m sorry I’m the only one who lived. But it wasn’t my fault they knew we were coming.”
Little Lamb shakes his head. “I know what you fucking are, Silverhand. I know you warned them.” He draws back his big fist. Little Lamb’s face is red. He looks almost tearful. “This is for my brother, traitor,” he snarls. “I’ve waited a long time for this chance.”
Lukas closes his eyes. He waits for the blow. But it doesn’t come. It doesn’t come and something, someone, slams into Little Lamb’s back. Little Lamb grunts. It’s not an artful move, but it’s a lucky one. Little Lamb is thrown off balance. He lets go of Lukas’s hook as he is forced to use his hand to steady himself.
Lukas opens his eyes. Elric is on Little Lamb’s back. Elric is clearly no more of a fighter than Red Wolf. He has simply hurled himself on top of Little Lamb and hoped for the best. But he gets his roped wrists around Little Lamb’s neck. Little Lamb sways backwards. Elric uses the way his wrists are bound to stop Little Lamb from easily throwing him off.
Little Lamb heaves to his feet, Elric still on his back, and swings around, as he tries to throw Elric off, clawing at the rope around his neck.
Lukas scrambles to his feet. He lunges forward and grabs Little Lamb by the front of his shirt. He brings his hook up in front of Little Lamb’s face. It’s almost too much for both him and Elric together to hold on to their giant adversary.
“Yield,” Lukas growls out, pressing the hook to Little Lamb’s neck, voice breaking with the exertion. “Admit I am no traitor and fucking yield.”
“Fuck you,” Little Lamb snarls at Lukas. “Get your bitch off me. I thought you wanted to take me in a fair fight.”
Lukas slashes Little Lamb’s cheek with the point of the hook. “Yield or your throat is next,” Lukas snarls back, twisting at Little Lamb’s shirt to tighten his grip. Elric pulls back with his bound wrists around Little Lamb’s throat. Little Lamb chokes.
But he manages to grab hold of Lukas’s right wrist, just below the hook. He forces it away from his face and down, using it to sever the ropes between Elric’s wrists. Elric falls from Little Lamb’s back landing on the ground with a grunt.
Little Lamb straightens, squaring up to Lukas. “Enough games,” he says and he pulls the axe from his belt.
Lukas swallows, but he doesn’t step away. “You want to kill me,” he says, low and steady. “Now’s your fucking chance.”
Little Lamb snarls. He adjusts his grip on the axe.
But before he can strike, a voice behind them shouts, “Yield, Lamb.” Lukas looks up. Inga is strolling over. She doesn’t look in too much of a hurry, but she is finally intervening. “Enough of this shit.”
Little Lamb looks at her. He seems to go limp. Lukas, breathless, takes a step back.
Elric is getting up from the ground.
Lukas looks over to Red Wolf, sitting up, holding his head with one hand and Marko with the other. Little Lamb had seen off three of them. He is truly formidable.
Inga bends over Red Wolf and looks into his eyes, before helping him back into the cart. His legs wobble as he climbs up. He slumps down on the planks with Marko scampering after. He looks as though he hit his head. Lukas feels guilty about that. But Red Wolf should have stayed out of it.
It seems it is over. Lukas’s chest is still heaving. He can feel his lip tingling from Little Lamb’s punch. His mouth is swollen and he can taste blood, but he is still too fired from the fight to feel the pain.
Little Lamb gives Lukas a look, before returning to his place up front with Inga. While they are reordering themselves, Lukas beckons Elric over. Elric shuffles towards him and Lukas takes a moment to untie the severed ropes from around Elric’s wrists. They are ringed with red rope burns from the strain of hanging from Little Lamb’s neck. One of his wrists is cut from where Little Lamb used the hook.
Lukas tuts. “You shouldn’t have done that,” Lukas says as from a pouch on the belt at his waist he pulls out his small tin of salve. “I keep this for my…,” he pauses and swallows, “...for where my hand was. It helps.”
The salve smells familiar as Lukas opens the tin with his teeth. Like lavender and sweet herb. Lukas rests Elric’s wrists on his knee as he scoops out some of the salve from the tin and sets it on the ground between them. He works the cream into Elric’s rope burns. Skin sliding over skin. Lukas feels prickly as he does it. Just his blood up from the fight, he thinks, he hopes.
“Why did you do that?” says Lukas.
“Why did I do what?”
“Help me. I dropped the rope. You could have run.”
Elric looks into Lukas’s eyes. “I don’t know,” he says.
Lukas nods. He finishes stroking the salve into Elric’s skin, he binds Elric’s wrists with linen strips which he also has in his belt pouch.
As he reties a fresh piece of rope around Elric’s wrists over the linen, Elric says, “I could have run. I could have run when you were fighting Little Lamb, but I didn’t. Yet you think you need to rope me.”
“You just told me,” Lukas says, tying off the last knot, “that you don’t know why you didn’t run. Not much to rely on.”
“Maybe you just like me roped. Perhaps tonight you’ll keep me roped when you take me, mercilessly. Your helpless prisoner.”
“Helpless?” Lukas gives Elric a small smile. “I suppose we will see.”
After that, the party is quite subdued. No one speaks much. Red Wolf, lying in the cart, still seems dazed. Marko sits a solemn vigil over him. They walk on until the sun is low, then find a place to make camp beside a small clutch of trees on the otherwise featureless grassland.