Escana

by J. R. Karlsson

  Anger overtook Gadtor at the mocking mention of slaughter dressed up in pretty words. 'The door isn't the obstruction you prancing whorespawn, I am.'

  A heavy sigh ran through Gadtor's mind in response to his own words, disappointment and tiredness seemed to lace through it.

  'There is little sense in bandying further words with you, your tongue will be equally juvenile when you babble like a babe for your life. Yet your insolence shall brook no mercy.'

  Gadtor's bravado was extinguished, the air seemed to tighten around him mercilessly, it was then he noticed that the wooden bar on the door was beginning to make an odd hissing noise.

  He started to motion at Falarus to retreat when the bar caught fire, flickering flames rushing along the surface as if fuelled by an invisible oil. In spite of himself he took several steps back and braced his body for the unknown onslaught. The licking tongues ate into the wood as if they were snakes devouring prey. Without warning the bar exploded in a series of charred splinters.

  The blackened wood settled around them, none of the debris had caught them and the door remained firmly shut, Gadtor had been expecting a lot worse.

  The lock on the door started making a strange clicking sound, Gadtor's heart leapt into his throat.

  He found he was holding his breath, those conscious in the room had frozen since the bar had been destroyed, seemingly hypnotised by the strange noise of the lock.

  He felt the same fear that had gripped him last time multiplied by the knowledge of what was on the other side of the door.

  The clicking gradually sped up, leaving him with the certainty that the lock would yield. Moments later, the door slid open to reveal his greatest fear.

  A wicked smile curved the creature's mouth, it was the first time Gadtor had got a good look at the features of this monster. Its ears and brows were curiously pointed, like a demon out of some faerie story, the sword it brandished seemed to blaze crimson with the blood of his men. In all his years, Gadtor had seen nothing like it and the cheerful nod it gave him before advancing upon him signalled his end.

  'Halt!' a voice shouted, stopping the creature moments before cutting Gadtor to ribbons.

  It let out an audible sigh at this new figure by the door. 'I know, leave him and the old man alive as an example. I was fully intending to deliver on that request, your constant shadowing of me puts you in considerable peril.'

  The older looking guard by the door seemed unmoved by this threat. 'Lord Kelgrimm needs them to survive the night, I'm here to make sure they do.' He motioned forward with his hand and a series of guards poured into the room. 'Take the old man and the one eyed bandit captive.' He turned back to the creature. 'You may kill the rest.'

  It made a scoffing noise. 'If you want the cripples dead you may do it yourself, I have other matters to attend to.'

  Lowering the sword and paying Gadtor no further interest, it walked out the door, eyeing the grizzled looking guard with distaste. 'I assure you, my absence will become notable very soon.'

  The rest of the guard parted like a sea, the senior figure spat on the floor and started bellowing at them. 'Don't just stand there you fools, do as I command or that thing will be the least of your worries.'

  Gadtor seized the moment of indecision by leaping forward and gutting the closest guard, his fist swung out and cracked the jaw of another. A sudden surge of hope rushing through him since the departure of whatever that thing was.

  His sword cut bloody swathes through the wall of guards trying to restrain him, dimly he heard a voice bellowing at them to take him alive. Better he die now at the hand of some over-eager guard and take as many as he could with him than die alone in a prison cell at Kelgrimm's pleasure.

  At first there were knocks on his blade that jarred his wrists, attempts to disarm him that he somehow prevented. The guard's patience began to wear thin as they continued to lose numbers and some of them went for the kill. Having backed him up near a wall he noticed out of the corner of his eye that a number of men had seized Falarus and were shoving him toward the door. Seeing this made him redouble his efforts. A kick to the ankle, an elbow to the nose, lopping an arm off, there was no grace in his efforts, this was no calculated riposte.

  Yet even as he drove them back, the weariness of battle warned him of the inevitable futility. A number of his cuts were falling dangerously wide of their mark now, his skin was laced with a number of wounds in response. The guards discipline had been lost in the frenzied assault and they were going for the kill. The scant consolation that he had pulled the guards away from the defenceless people was doused when he realised that when he fell they would be next.

  He found the wall kissing his back again, it wasn't going to be long now. The tip of a blade cut into his arm and his hand finally relinquished the sword, the flat of a second blade went careening into his temple and he slumped motionless upon the warehouse floor.

  38

  Jimmy

  'There,' bellowed the older guard. 'If you want something done right you have to do it yourself. Torr's name you boys struggled with that one. Take him away.' He waved away the protestations from the other guards as two of them detached and dragged an unconscious Gadtor out the door to join Falarus. 'Make yourself useful now and finish off the rest in short order. Unless you find the cripples are also too much for you of course.'

  The guards hurriedly saluted what had to be their commanding officer and started to cut their way through the dead and dying bodies.

  Jimmy never forgot that brief methodical moment. There was no screaming or agony, just brutal efficiency driven by fear and followed by the occasional groan or sigh.

  He had expected the murders to be callous and for the perpetrators to take some kind of sick pleasure, yet as he watched all he saw was disinterest in a duty impatiently carried out.

  The creature had disappeared, Jimmy hoped for good. At least in death he would be rid of such nightmarish figures. The guards were drawing near now, it wouldn't be long. As he watched the slow destruction of life he found himself wondering whether death would be enough to stop something like that when it knew who you were.

  He had looked frantically for a way out even though he knew there was no other exit. He felt cheated that his life was to end in this cold warehouse at the hands of the law. It felt at odds with everything he had previously thought about Urial. His beloved seaside town couldn't have undergone such a radical transformation in such a short space of time. The prospect that such a wondrous place within his memory was purely fictional had been a painful one to swallow. The degradation seemed ground in, as if it had always been there, out of sight from naïve young eyes.

  He looked back at Ella. She seemed frozen in place as if largely ignorant of her fate, her eyes scanning every inch of Jakob as if the last sight she wanted to see was him. He could hardly blame her, it was a better thing to look upon than a vision of cold, calculating steel.

  A sound came from the door, then erupted into a series of shouts as guards went tumbling from left and right. A faint flicker of hope kindled in Jimmy's eyes as he realised who it was.

  The Hermit cut through the guards in a whirling mass of arms and legs and steel, Jimmy had seen nothing like it before. The armoured men fell as if their lives were ripped from them, powerless to stop his advance through their ranks.

  The attack was an execution of grace and brutality, quickly routing the remaining guards. Jimmy blocked out the ensuing carnage and was mesmerised by the silent movements of their latest saviour. He awoke from this spectacle, recoiling at the head of the older guard as it rolled to a halt near the wall. The warehouse was silent.

  The Hermit waded through the bodies, his face expressionless. Jimmy rose and sickeningly took stock of the devastation that had been wrought.

  The most horrifying aspect was the lack of laboured breathing. He had got used to hearing the near-constant sound of people struggling to find air, that had now been silenced. Every last one of the sick had been killed and he had d
one nothing to stop it. He had just stood there staring at The Hermit, dumbfounded by the man's movements as he held off the guards.

  He finally turned back to where Jakob lay and noticed Ella curled up in a pool of blood on the floor beside him.

  Panic gripped him as he knelt beside her, fearing the worst.

  She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. 'I screamed at you for help you bastard and you did nothing.'

  Jimmy took a step back upon seeing the loathing in her eyes and fell over the corpse of a guard.

  'He went round killing every last one of these people and you did nothing to stop him, you just stood there staring. He was only one man and you did nothing to stop him.'

  He had been so enraptured by how The Hermit had dispatched the guards that he had lost all sight of the world around him. It was as if the walls of the warehouse had fallen away into nothingness and left a void filled by the movements of that one man.

  He looked at the guard now. He had shock etched across his face and a small knife lodged underneath his armour.

  'I had to take action myself before he killed Jakob.'

  Jimmy didn't know what to say.

  'You just stood there, he crept up behind you and was about to put an end to your daydreaming.'

  He had watched on as everyone else had died, all at the hand of one guard, a guard he might stopped. His head sank into his hands as the realisation dawned on him. Ella said nothing more.

  A hand reached down and set him on his feet. The Hermit smiled down on him as if relieved to see a living person. He approached Ella with care and offered her the same hand, which she cautiously took, staring up at him with an uncertain look in her eyes. When he started to move toward Jakob she put herself between him and what must have seemed a stranger to her.

  'What do you want with him? Why are you here?' she asked, barring his path and forcing him to halt.

  Jimmy walked over to The Hermit's side, making placating gestures. 'He's a friend of Falarus, I'm sure he means Jakob no harm.'

  Having seen what The Hermit had done to the guards, Ella seemed in no position to argue with him. She eyed him with plain suspicion as he stood staring at her, but let him pass and watched as he carefully picked Jakob up and headed toward the door.

  They followed him now as if in a dream, leaving the warehouse to the dead.

  39

  Hern

  The heat of the sun was starting to take its toll on a number of the prisoners, its merciless beams piercing the rattling wooden structure they were trapped in and scorching everything in their path.

  The indignity of being locked away for an extended period was beginning to grate on Hern. The guards showed little mercy and allowed themselves every luxury on the journey, enraging their captives further. Clearly this was the first hurdle he had to overcome, the only way of doing so seemed to be by enduring and surviving until their arrival.

  He had chosen to minimise his movements, more to conserve energy than avoid his fellow prisoners. They were as drained as he and nobody wanted to pick a fight with a cannibal, the view certainly wouldn't improve any at the other end of the cage. He had avoided sleeping or letting his guard down out of a healthy respect for what he had seen at nightfall. It would appear that their net worth was calculated by quality rather than mass, as the guards did nothing to stop the murders.

  Slowly the extraneous flesh was being peeled back to reveal the true survivors, each one sporting dangerous qualities. The amount of killing had slowed down with good reason, there were no weaklings to prey upon any longer. They were left with a number of larger ones that looked like they could crack a man's skull open with their palms. Then there were the squatter brawny ones with beady eyes and malicious looking features that radiated hate. It was the smaller ones that Hern kept the closest eye on, a number of which he couldn't quite read yet. Most disconcerting.

  The open desert they travelled across was unchanging and with no visible progression time seemed to slow down to a crawl. Hern's head took over, reciting forms and figures and instructions that had been drilled into him. It was worth keeping the mind sharp even in the quiet hours. Especially in the quiet hours.

  There were a number of eyes that lingered altogether too long on Hern for his liking. He didn't forget that he hadn't truly been tested yet by any, if he was found wanting they would tear him apart.

  He remained vigilant throughout and spotted one of the larger ones detach himself from the group and walk toward him. There was no pretence of stealth from this swarthy looking animal, the lust and hunger shone in his eyes like an alarm. Hern knew that no matter how talented an individual was, complacency was the biggest killer. All it took was one lucky blow or careless moment to bring about your own demise. He had seen it all too frequently in amateurs drunk with their new found power, or the lackadaisical confidence of an unchallenged alpha male. There was always someone out there that was faster, stronger or more lethal than you at the crucial moment. This was why Hern had cultivated a healthy fear alongside his more rational workings. He had never enjoyed unarmed combat and this one looked like the type to savour it. He found himself very tired.

  He discounted the first punch as an early effort designed to scare him. The solid cage rattled with the impact and the fine audience had started to gather around it for some sport. The second swipe at him was inelegant and brutish, if anything it settled him somewhat. If this was the sum total of the man's fighting style it would be short work. He refused to be goaded into relaxing and kept himself poised on the balls of his feet.

  The third attempt to bludgeon him was a kick. It did have a lot of force behind it, possibly the sole reason the man was still alive in this cage. He ducked inside the swinging leg and thrust himself upwards, jamming the tips of his fingers into the man's throat. He used the man's choked pause to whirl around, planting an elbow into the base of the man's spine. He slumped forward, dead. That should stop any further incursions into his corner.

  The fatigue that gripped Hern now was both a familiar and unwelcome feeling. He had hoped that he would last the entirety of the journey but his knowledge of the desert's geography was sketchy at best. He knew it was a vast place but had no idea they would be kept in transit for this long. Once you've seen one dune you've seen them all.

  The exhaustion came and went in waves as he tried to pace up and down the cage to keep himself wary. Eventually he realised he was more likely to pass out from wasting the last reserves of his energy by doing so and settled himself onto the floor of the cage. He would have to risk the possibility of sleep, given the indeterminable distance to his destination he felt a certain inevitability about it. He wasn't looking forward to how his fellow occupants would react to his slumber. Whilst being weak may indeed cost you your life within the bars, he had suspicions that a group of slaves were planning to do away with the more dangerous members in their sleep. His previous altercation placed him firmly in the latter category. If only the man hadn't have been such a brute, if only he hadn't been so tired. The fight had taken more out of him than he'd care to admit, as it had been a battle between both his sleep deprived reflexes and the strength of the opposition.

  Sadly there was no time for 'if only'. His options were severely limited in these confines and perhaps if he lived to wake, a fresher mind may bring new perspective. He just hoped that the other slaves were too weary to test him.

  Another wave of exhaustion caressed his eyelids as he slumped down upon the cage floor, his back pressed up to the wall. He drifted in and out of consciousness and each time he woke he found no sign of any movement from the slaves. Many of them were either asleep already from attempting to stave it off in the past few days or nodding at the sight of so many others doing the same.

  He didn't dream, his last thoughts were oddly hopeful.

  40

  Ella

  She didn't know where he was leading them, all she knew was that given the events of today they had little choice.

  The winding streets
he led them through had tall buildings stretching up on every side, none of them with any lights. He picked his way swiftly, pressing forward with purposeful strides as Jakob remained held securely in his arms. She didn't know why but she felt confidence of their escape grow in her mind.

  He took a sudden right and motioned to the door. Jimmy unlocked it with a key and The Hermit brushed past him into the room.

  It was extremely small, a single bed and a lamp on the far side with a bowl of water and a miniature chest. There was little else of note and Ella wasn't in a particularly observant frame of mind. She quietly hoped that this small place offered seclusion for the night after the slaughter they had left behind.

  The Hermit lay Jakob out on the bed and opened the chest, revealing an assortment of what looked to Ella like medicinal supplies. Unwarranted hope sprang in her heart once more in the knowledge that Jakob wouldn't go unattended in spite of the remaining fear that this overly convenient friendliness could still be a ploy.

  'Who are you?' she asked, hoping that this stranger was a little more open than Falarus.

  Jimmy shook his head at her. 'He can hear you but he won't answer. He hasn't responded to anyone since he arrived here.'

  The Hermit continued tending to Jakob as if the conversation were of little import.

  'You know this man well then? Why didn't you tell me?'

  Jimmy sat himself on the floor and stared at The Hermit for a moment in thoughtful silence. 'He's an enigma, at least according to what I've heard from Gadtor. We've worked together for the past week in the Black Quail, I've never seen anyone like him. I'd have told you about him sooner if I'd had the chance.'

  'So how can you trust him if he doesn't even speak to you?'

  Jimmy seemed to go a bit pale at the thought of whatever he was recalling, apparently he had seen something recently that he didn't want to share.