LAOCH.

“It doesn’t count if you’re already planning your defeat, Laoch.” Aletto said, looking in my direction. The cell where we are being kept was dark. It reeks of body odour and rotten food. The air inside is thick with strong smell of ale and moist earth. The windows attached to cell are so small that my fist cannot even fit through them. I turn towards Aletto and sigh. I have never been captured before so I have no idea it can be this dreadful being a captive. My armour and the family sword bequeathed to me by my father, Henry Farquarhson III, before his death has be taken away from me. Every escape plans I was nursing before has quickly receded to my innermost heart following the death of my best friend and the most skillful sword wielder amongst us, Jaden. Although, I may have earned the moniker of “The Bog side Butcher” during the last battle we fought against the invading Rhadazi assassins because I was the commander of the Scottish swordsmen during that battle, that title doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to Jaden for he killed the most assassins. 

And that Jaden………is dead. 

 I watched him die in the hands of that Rhadazi brute, El-kanemi. Now I have been summoned to fight him too. What chance do I have against an eight foot tall, bulky and ruthless killer who slew “him” that wield the sword better than I do? 

I sighed again.

“Aletto” I said, “I wasn’t planning my defeat. I am already defeated. I can’t survive this fight against El-kanemi. If Jaden couldn’t survive, what chance do I have?” I shrugged my shoulder in defeat. “At least, I would die fighting….”

“With honour and dignity, aye?” He shifted from where he was to my side, his chain clanking as he moved. “I have never seen defeat in your eyes before. Not even when we were besieged by the Persians in Messina. Nor when we suffered heavy losses in the hand of the Tarragon troops during the Arden battle. You have seen war, my friend. You know how to win a war. And I am not talking about bravery. You already have that.”

“Then, what are you talking about?”

“I am talking about your wit, Laoch. YOUR WIT!!!” he exclaimed.

“My wits?” I asked, looking bemused.

“Yes, your wit. I have seen you many times. You have the ability to wreak havoc singlehandedly. I watched you during the battle of Messina when you killed the leader of the Persian troop with a single stroke of your sword. And also at the battle of Dunsinane, when we are down to ten men. I know how you killed twenty-five out of the forty most skilled swordsmen of the Cawdor troop while the rest fled for their lives. You are a warrior. Don’t let the death of Jaden dampen your courage. He is hot-headed and rush to battle headlong. That’s what got him killed against El-kanemi.”

“You think so?”

 “I bet ye will win with my life. Even the Emperor of Rhadazi knew El-kanemi can’t defeat you, that’s why he saved you for the last fight. And you know what is at stake here.”

“Remind me.” I said, smiling at Aletto, even though he couldn’t see me grin in the darkness of the cell. 

“Kill El-kanemi and we earn our freedom. All of us.”

“And you think I can win?” 

“You will win, Laoch. We all believe you will.”

“Gracias Aletto. You are indeed a brother…….”

The chain on the door rattled and the iron door leading into our cell opened suddenly. A cruel looking man entered with a burning torch, followed closely by a fierce guard. The man pointed at me and signalled to me to follow him. I pointed to my chain. He understood and fumbled with the keys inside his pocket. He knelt down beside me and opened the chain of my hands and feet. 

I stood up and he pushed me in front of him.

“Go n-eiri an t-adh leat”, Aletto said to me as I was being led out of the cell. It means “that luck may rise with you!” in Irish. That’s Aletto’s own way of bidding me farewell. I waved at him as the iron door closed on him. The man and the guard led me through a passage which contained rows of prison and every one of them was full to the brim with prisoners. Some of them are Scottish warriors I recognized while others, I couldn’t. 

Towards the end of the corridor, they made me stop in front of an old man who was in custody of the many crude looking weapons. I looked at the array of lampoons,lances, swords and tridents arranged on the table. I wanted none of it. I preferred my father’s sword and armour. 

“If I am to fight El-kanemi, I want my sword and my armour.” I said, defiantly.

The cruel looking man understood and signalled to the old man who went inside the room behind him to fetch my request. He placed them on the table. I took the armour and wore it. After I finished, I took the sword, swung it many times and put it back in its sheath. 

I was ready.

As I was led out into the arena by the guard and the cruel looking man whom was addressed by the old man as “Shakur”, the old man took my hand and place an amulet in it. It consist of four lion’s claw bound together with a thick rope. I tied it to my neck. 

“Die well, Warrior.” He said with a surprisingly thick Celtic accent. I was given a little time to recover from my surprise as they pushed me through the wooden barricade leading into the arena. The applause was as thunderous as the noise was deafening for the crowd were shouting in unison.

El-kanemi!! El-kanemi!!! El-kanemi!!!!

 There, in the arena, standing in front of me was my eight feet tall doom. The obstacle between me and my freedom.

El-kanemi.

I shivered with fright at his physique.

He was cladded only in loincloth. His big, brown and hairy body bore several mark of sword cut. He held a big sword in his right hand. He has the aura of terror around him but his face looked mysteriously innocent belying his fierce and ruthless nature. As I entered into the arena, he looked at me and spat in disgust. He was very disappointed. And why won’t he? 

I am a five feet, eight inches tall, frail looking Celt whom he believe poses no danger to him. He underestimated me. Someone came and gave me a leather shield which I refused. I removed my head armour and threw it away. I vowed within me that if I was going to die in the hands of this brute, I am going to inflict on him such a deadly wound that he won’t survive it, either.  

From the far end of the arena, the Emperor of Rhadazi spoke.

“Greetings ye Rhadazis. Today, we witness an epic battle between the undisputed lion of Rhadazi, El-kanemi and the leader of the Celtic rebellion, Laoch.”

The crowd roared.

El-kanemi!!!!!!!

“El-kanemi, as always, fights for his dignity,” The Emperor continued, “while this Celt fight for his freedom.” Then, he turned towards us.

“Fight, ye Warrior and let us see whose blood shall wet the soil of the Rhadazi.” With that, the Emperor sat back on his couch. The crowd cheered.

Fight!!! Fight!!!! Fight!!!!!

Unexpectedly, El-kanemi rushed towards me in an encircling motion but I was ready for him. I sidestepped and cut him in his right leg as he lost his balance and fell. Quickly, he turned as I nearly landed a fatal blow with my sword on his neck which he dodged and gave me a powerful blow in my chest with his big left hand. The impetus of the kick flung me on my back.

I grunted and he laughed.

“Stand, ye Scottish swine.” He said, pointing his sword at me.

The crowd continued their incessant chant. 

El-kanemi!!! El-kanemi!!!! El-kanemi!!!!!

I stood up and noticed that my right hand was bruised. My heart was pounding erratically. I felt dazed and enraged. By God, no mortal calls me a Scottish swine and live to tell the tale.

Then, he advanced towards me, holding his sword with both arm and swung them above his head forcefully. I met the onrushing sword with my own and the impact of the clash forced me on my knees. I aimed a furious blow at his groin. He bellowed and staggered backward. I scooped some sand in my hand and flung them in his face. 

He yelled and tried to dust the sand off his face. I took the time cut him deep in his thigh. As he reeled backward, I swung my sword and force the blade into his bare and hairy chest with all of my might. 

The crowd became quiet, as El-kanemi fell heavily on his back.

I knelt beside his fallen heap, panting. I pulled out my sword that was buried deep in his chest. Spurt of blood began to gush out unendingly from the deep laceration.

“Ye Scottish swine, ye shouldn’t have killed me.” El-kanemi gurgled as he choked on his own blood. “What art thou called, ag'in?”

“Laoch” I said to him. He held on to my hand as he looked into my eyes.

“Ye have the heart of a warrior, but still a wee child. Ye will take my place as the lion of Rhadazi.” He coughed out some blood. I wiped them away from his lips with my palm.

“The Emperor said that I will have my freedom if you are slayed.” El-kanemi laughed at my naivety.

“Pray! No lion leaves Rhadazi.” He said and he was no more.

I couldn’t hold back my tears as “Shakur” led me out of the arena back into my cell as the crowd started chanting my name. 

Laoch!! Laoch!!! Laoch!!!!

I was heartbroken by what I heard from El-kanemi.

No lion leaves Rhadazi? Why?

My sword and armour were taken back but I was allowed to keep the amulet with me. The old man smiled at me.

“Bravo, Lion.” He said and I nodded.

Aletto was happy to see me again. He would have hugged me but his chain allowed him a little freedom so he content himself with shaking my hand.

“Indeed, you are Laoch. You are a Warrior. I knew you will kill El-kanemi. You killed him, aye?”

I could only nod.

Aletto was beaming with pride and I have no intention of dampening his happy spirit. Not with what I’ve heard from El-kanemi.

“So, when do we have our freedom, Laoch?” he asked, enthusiastically.

 I looked towards him as fresh tears began to stream down my face again.

“We are doomed.” Is all I could say.

                              THE END.