Escana

by J. R. Karlsson

  She staggered, The Hermit leapt forward and supported her arm. She tried to wave him away but as she did so her legs buckled underneath her and she fell to the floor with a thud.

  The Hermit's hands frantically flew across her body, he started to rise when Mildred's thin arm shot out and pulled him back down toward her. Jimmy watched in horrified fascination as she whispered something inaudible in the man's ear between bouts of coughing up blood.

  The Hermit's entire body seemed to slump, when he looked back up from her now-still form his eyes held a strange mixture of pain and resignation. He carefully wiped the blood off his ear and shook his head at both Jimmy and Ella. The old woman was dead.

  48

  Thom/Gadtor

  Thom almost cursed aloud this time, another empty room. Looking around the dark walls in feigned interest he composed himself, instead opting to ask questions. 'How many of these rooms have you got hidden away in the city?' He clenched his teeth, there was little point in pushing the man too hard. He could have his balls later if all the leads were duds. If Kelgrimm claimed that the man was the head of the former Black Quail then it stood to reason that he knew where he was going.

  Unless he was being led into a trap.

  Gadtor was already heading back through the door. 'There's about eight more left that I can recall. There's nowhere else for them to go. They can't make it past the guards without alerting us and nobody would harbour them after what the Justice did to the warehouse.'

  Thom nodded, for all these false starts, he did admire the man's efficiency. They had spoken little in their tiresome hunt, neither of them seeing the need for words beyond those relating to their task. That suited Thom just fine. On occasion he had caught the man looking back at him with his one good eye as they walked through the streets. He was under no illusions that it wasn't just to make sure he was being followed. There was something in the look, as if it were trying to place his face, yet Thom couldn't recall meeting anyone like Gadtor in his long and colourful past.

  He allowed himself a smirk at that, yes, very colourful. There was no way he was going to remember all the minor faces from his own personal history, more than one of which had tried to come back and haunt him before now.

  If the room proved to be fruitless, he may be forced to kill this man without preamble. He knew from the observation of Gadtor's lithe movements that the man would be wary to such a trick, you didn't head a secretive terrorist movement without some measure of both caution and luck.

  Thom had learnt the hard way that while there was no way to fully predict what a potential opponent could do, it was stupid to underestimate them. He thought back to the flaring green light engulfing that blade as he ran toward it, it sent chills of trepidation up his spine. No, he wasn't going to underestimate anyone in Urial again.

  'Are you coming to the next room or not?'

  He woke with a start to the sound of Gadtor's question. He hadn't realised how rattled he was until he found himself staring at another empty room, having completely forgotten about their journey there.

  'Lead the way. Seven to go, right?'

  Gadtor eyed him suspiciously. '...right.'

  He could sense the bristling irritation of the man next to him and knew that his life was in danger.

  The calm certainty with which he proclaimed that The Hermit would be in one of these rooms sounded hollow and stupid to his own ears. Truth be told, he hadn't a clue where this elusive man could be tucked away, he was just hedging his bets by checking all the rooms he could ever recall using. At least that's what he told himself, the reality may be that it all rested on The Hermit's assumption that his comrade in arms would never stoop to working for Kelgrimm.

  He felt a pang deep in his heart, he had been so fucking stupid. To think that he could somehow lead a rebellion yet couldn't even discover that the man he trusted most, the linchpin of the whole operation, was a fraud.

  His head fiercely rebuked him. Now was not that time for worrying about such things. He had an obligation to finish off the very thing he helped create, and destroy the mockery it had always been without him even knowing. Crying over his broken trust wasn't going to help matters. He had led good men to their deaths over nothing and he would have to live with that.

  As reliable as The Hermit had been in their time together, his silence always cast doubt over his true intentions. Now that he knew that Falarus had betrayed him, the enforcement of the Urian law in bringing this man to heel was a must in case one old man's lies were spread any further.

  He approached the latest door with no less fear and expectation, he knew that fears put to rest prematurely often ended in death.

  It was a small alleyway, much like any other he had seen. He had never used this door himself but had heard of men being brought here by The Hermit. He approached, eyeing the deserted streets on either side. As he rose to make the distinctive knock, he heard a clicking sound as it was unlocked from the inside. He had found them.

  Thom edged his way to the other side of the door as Gadtor planted himself flat against the wall, sword loosened from his belt. So this was it then.

  The other man nodded at him. Oh, so he wanted me to do it then now that he felt certain? How very gracious of him to offer.

  Thom stretched his arm out and drew Skullcleaver, a reassuring faint blue glow emanating from it. He wasn't going to get caught with his trousers down against such a foe.

  He then tapped a rhythmic series of eight knocks on the door, granted it wasn't quite like how he had seen it done, but it seemed to do the trick. A faint scuffling was heard inside and a small crack appeared in the door. Not yet, not yet. The door opened a little further and a head popped out to look around. Now.

  Thom swung the blade down in a searing arc and decapitated the confused figure. The aghast look upon Gadtor's face was priceless, but only briefly. The head rolled to a standstill at his feet and he looked up in horror. 'This isn't The Hermit, this is just an old woman!'

  He shrugged back at him. So they got the wrong door, it wouldn't be an issue, there were still a few chances left that...

  The headless corpse was propelled into Gadtor, who fell with a shriek, another figure altogether more imposing launched himself out the entrance with maddened eyes.

  Thom caught the first blow on the flat of his blade, but couldn't shake it off. The Hermit beckoned the others out of the door as they locked blades. Thom paid no heed to them, his eyes were on The Hermit alone. Thom seethed at the man for having the audacity to try and hold him back with one arm. He'd make him pay for that.

  He tried to press his advantage, but found the man as immovable as an Urkata. This was going to require a great deal of strategy.

  He saw Gadtor rise and shove the corpse off, now he'd see what his so-called ally was capable of. He seemed hesitant, and The Hermit just seemed to hold Thom in place, the edges of their blades locked in some inseparable embrace. Not again.

  He tried to rip Skullcleaver free, tried to fashion some opening for himself yet couldn't. Whatever devilry this man had imposed held him fast once more, leaving things entirely out of his control.

  He could only watch beyond The Hermit's shoulder as Gadtor stood there. He had a bad feeling that the odds may have doubled against him.

  Where was El-Vador?

  Gadtor stared at the back of the man he had considered one of his closest allies, he seemed entirely still. The only tell-tale signs that he was in a struggle to the death was the slightest of quivers that occasionally ran through his arms. Thom had locked their blades together, clearly waiting for him to finish the job from behind. He hadn't lived this long without learning to negate the distaste of necessity, now was not a time to be conflicted.

  Leaping forward he made a stab towards The Hermit's prone back, he spotted the foot coming from the door all too late.

  His head exploded in pain and his own momentum carried him past Thom and The Hermit onto the street. He quickly righted himself and looked back, dazed from t
he blow and confused by what he saw.

  His assailant was slumped against the frame of the door, breathing heavily and watching Thom grapple blade to blade with The Hermit. There were some obvious differences between the two of them, yet his face seemed altogether familiar. Whoever Thom's doppelgänger was, he was about to regret kicking him in the head.

  Then Thom let out a cry, he had spotted his lookalike and disengaged from The Hermit, trying desperately to sprint past him to get at the boyish version of himself. The Hermit swung his blade in blazing arcs, keeping the man at bay.

  It all clicked together in Gadtor's mind, he knew Thom was after a killer, he also knew that this was the same boy he had seen in the house of Falarus. He hadn't kidnapped that young girl, she was tending to him every night he saw them lying there. He certainly hadn't got the full story from Jimmy, yet here was a boy that didn't have it in him to be a killer either. There was something entirely unwholesome about Thom's efforts to track down this boy. There was no doubt about it now either, the resemblance brooked no argument, this was his son he was after.

  Thom howled at The Hermit as he disarmed him in his haste to get past, yet he didn't go for the kill. He let the man rush back and pick up his blade, balling his fist together as if to throw something at him. The Hermit let fly and Thom collapsed on the ground as if hit by a rock, he didn't get up. Gadtor felt very alone.

  Sheathing his sword, he put his hands up in a placating gesture. There was no chance of besting The Hermit, even if he didn't have company.

  'You don't know what you're doing,' he said, yet his voice sounded unconvincing and weak.

  The Hermit just looked on at him, as if waiting for him to explain.

  'Falarus was not the man you thought he was, that we thought he was. It was all a sham.'

  He felt his own anger bubble up at those words. 'He used you, he used us all. The warehouse, the Black Quail. It was all lies. He was a fraud, he said so himself.'

  He couldn't stop himself, his voice rose in pitch and seemed foreign to him as it cursed the man he had trusted the most. As it laid bare his lies and deceit, just as the man had himself under El-Vador's interrogation. He drove each point home in vivid detail, leaving nothing out, The Hermit had to know, he had to understand that what he was fighting for was madness.

  When he finally stuttered to a halt he flung up his hands. 'There,' he heard himself say. 'Now do you finally see?'

  He waited breathlessly, as if he expected an answer from the man who never spoke. He may not have an answer, but he was certainly going to get a response.

  The Hermit nodded at him, he wasn't smiling. Gadtor nodded back at him cautiously and chanced a smile. The Hermit stopped nodding, no smile touching his face. Gadtor felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as the man advanced on him.

  'Ah shit.'

  49

  Kelgrimm

  Kelgrimm turned an eyebrow up at the servant. 'Already?'

  He felt a slight pang of irritation at the tickling laughter of El-Vador floating about his head.

  'Y-Yes my Lord, they demanded a closed session of the council to discuss your actions in the warehouse district.'

  His irritation now rose to anger. 'Demand?' He threw his cup of wine at the man's feet, veins bulging in his neck. 'Demand?' he roared at the stricken messenger. 'Who are they to demand anything in my city?'

  The laughter slowed somewhat, forming words behind the chuckles. 'Actually my Lord, they are well within their rights to request a closed session.'

  Kelgrimm gave El-Vador a cold look. 'Since when have you become an authority on Urian law?'

  That fluttering laugh again. 'I know many things my Lord. I have already guessed where this calculated charade is leading us. As per our agreement I am willing to play my part insofar as it suits the requirements of the Emperor.'

  Few would have noticed the briefest hint of distaste in El-Vador's smooth voice, yet few men had the capabilities of Kelgrimm, he had made sure of that. So the creature was not sympathetic to Imperial rule, most interesting.

  Storing away that nugget of information for further musing, he waved at the servant, who was doing his best to ignore the speech of his betters. 'You may send the council members in, the session shall commence immediately.'

  He felt El-Vador at the side of his throne more intensely than before. The thing had its uses, but he wondered at that last comment, was it set to betray him should he stray too far?

  The outrage was plain to see on the faces of his former council. They knew that this was one last desperate gamble to challenge his consolidated power, yet some of them clearly felt this matter on a personal level. He had no doubts about the influence of Falarus and the inevitability of this confrontation.

  They shuffled in with a haughty manner, a vain attempt at preserving egos and concealing the terror he smelt off them. He felt a deep sense of gratification that these pompous fools hadn't forgotten themselves entirely, they knew they were in the lion's den now.

  They seated themselves around the long mahogany table, their eyes barely leaving him, all of them reflecting a varying mixture of disdain and nervousness at what was about to unfold.

  'Gentlemen.' He addressed his former equals. 'This council is in session. What grievances do you bring to the table?'

  A solitary figure stood. The esteemed councilman Ermentine from the northern district, it would be like him to get the first few succinct words in.

  'My Lord, the rest of the council have decreed that your recent decisions regarding our fair city have been in your own best interests and not those of the people. We have assembled to vote on your decision to imprison Falarus the aged.'

  Kelgrimm raised an eyebrow. 'Did I not make it clear previously the dire ramifications of a unanimous vote against my power?'

  Ermentine nodded at him, defiant in spite of his fear. 'That you did my Lord, and it is with a heavy heart that we must choose to do our civic duty in spite of your threats. If not also because of them.'

  He turned to the rest of the rabble now, gesturing his flabby arm out towards them in some pitiful mockery of command. 'Those of you who wish to hear the reasoning behind the imprisonment of Falarus the aged may raise your hand.'

  The hands shot up on queue, with some of them even daring to voice 'aye' afterwards. As if their futile gesture wasn't enough, as if their arms would go unnoticed amongst the others.

  Granted, they were idiots to a man, but they hadn't achieved their wealth and status without learning the subtle and often fatal arts of political manoeuvring. They had all seen what he was capable of, yet they still chose to defy him. Was it a ridiculous last stand to test him? To see if he could carry out his threat? Or perhaps there was some greater force at work that Kelgrimm hadn't seen.

  He swept his gaze over the table at the thought of that, it was then he spotted the inconsistency. The thirteenth chair, left blank since the demise of Dorn by his own hand. He had unofficially dissolved the council with that act, yet now it was filled by another man.

  El-Vador had gone silent, it seemed likely that the two observations were related.

  'Who is in the thirteenth chair?' he whispered under his breath to El-Vador as Ermentine gave a clipped speech to him about rights and responsibilities.

  If El-Vador had heard him, there was no response forthcoming.

  'My Lord Kelgrimm, the vote is eleven to one.' Ermentine spoke with great gravitas, as if that would save him. 'You must yield to the will of the council on this matter.'

  Kelgrimm knew this charade well, they would vote this way several times as if to affirm his powerlessness in the face of their unanimous consent. They would eventually demand that Falarus be freed, better to end it now than suffer their babel.

  'I'm afraid there has been a terrible mistake on the part of the council.' Kelgrimm rose and walked down toward his seat at the table. 'Or rather, there have been a multitude of errors that have culminated in creating this final, monstrous mistake.'

  He gripped the h
ead of his chair tightly with both hands now, clawing into the surface with his nails. 'I dissolved this council many moons ago and dissolved one of its more vocal members permanently. Yet this doesn't seem to have phased you, for here you all are again.' He pulled his chair back with a screech, causing a few of them to wince at the sound. 'I gave you all a fair chance to govern your own small parts of the city under my rule, yet that wasn't enough for any of you.' He settled into the chair now, glaring at each of them in turn, El-Vador had appeared at his side at some point. 'Even if you had the power to pry my reasoning behind the imprisonment of Falarus it would be meaningless. Falarus is dead.'

  A number of gasps greeted that particular morsel of information, he was getting to the impudently presumptuous fools quite nicely.

  'That's right, hung up in my dungeons and butchered upon his heinous confessions.' The room was entirely silent now, he had them in the palm of his hand, his annoyance was brimming over into anger, it was time to let them have it. 'There will be no investigation into my actions, they will not be called into account and I will receive no punishment from the likes of you for doing what is right.' His voice scaled upward into a roar towards the end, his finger jabbing at each of them as if they were conspiring against him. He felt their shame and their fear mingle into a pool of powerless nothing, yet even then he couldn't shake the uneasiness growing within him. His mind turned over the illogical nature of their decision, finding no answers.

  'I give you all one final chance. Depart this room immediately and inform the people of my decision, or stay and face the consequences.' He let that hang in the air over them, like an executioner dangling a blade before driving it home.