Escana

by J. R. Karlsson

  Yellowskin, there is no escape and I am watchful.

  The words seemed jagged and harsh compared to his own thoughts, bludgeoning his senses and causing him to grip his head involuntarily.

  I offer you no quarrel. Hern tentatively sent the thought out, hoping it was the beast that had initiated the conversation and not some unseen force.

  You offer me nothing, not even a good meal. The creature finally replied, apparently not willing to dally on social niceties.

  Hern swallowed, the next few moments were crucial and potentially his only means of escape. He found himself pointlessly wishing that he had more time to think things through before the beast had spoken to him.

  Our first attempt at gaining freedom was a failure, I intend to make sure that it won't be our last.

  Another lengthy silence followed, Hern couldn't tell if the beast was deliberating over the words or whether the mental connection between them took some time to translate. All he had was this darkness and a creature that he struggled to read the emotions of.

  Where is our second chance, Yellowskin?

  Hern conceded that he had no idea when the second chance would be, but communicating that to his fellow captive would result in his death in short order. He had to convince this beast somehow to be ready for the potential opportunity. Would such a creature even understand the concept?

  Our second chance will arrive eventually, they captured you for a reason. We must be ready when that time comes.

  The creature made a strange rumbling sound in its throat, then was still again. No further communication was forthcoming it would seem.

  Hern experimentally stretched his legs. The creature did nothing in response. Apparently he had established a tenuous truce with his new cell mate, yet the thoughts of the coming days spent here in the company of a beast being driven mad by hunger filled him with a great unease.

  59

  Alissandra

  Stretching out a corpulent arm, she fished about in the golden dish on the edge of her divan. The glazed pear she was attempting to grasp slid just outside the reach of her stubby fingers, causing her to hiss in frustration.

  Her boudoir was opulent in the extreme, featuring a variety of hanging silks and padded with innumerable small carpets that she had made the latest style. The gigantic divan took centre stage within all this and served as a throne in her miniature kingdom of pleasure.

  A faint but immediately recognisable knocking came on the double doors, she bid her servant to enter and he slipped in without word.

  'What is it, Eli my sweet?'

  Eli stared back at her blankly, a slight smile permanently etched on his lips. Poor, sweet and innocent Eli, her most trusted of servants and greatest of confidants.

  'Mildred is here,' he replied simply, as if a friendly aunt had come to visit unexpectedly.

  'Well my good boy,' Alissandra cooed at him, 'let's not keep Mildred waiting then shall we? Show her in!'

  Eli nodded wordlessly and scurried out the double doors, he returned in short order with the bent old crone.

  Seeing that his duties were done, Eli shuffled past and settled himself on the edge of the divan, his tongue sticking out as he shoved his arm into the bowl and captured a glazed pear.

  'I was beginning to think that you had died, withered one,' Alissandra said, her tone carrying none of the sweetness it had previously held for her servant.

  Mildred proceeded to prostrate herself at Alissandra's feet. 'A thousand apologies my lady, my task ran up against some unforeseen circumstances.'

  She waved Mildred's excuses off in disgust, had the old bag gone through the proper channels she would have completed her objective and reported back in short order.

  'Your apologies are meaningless to me, what was it that detained you so? Did you meet with the girl from my visions?'

  The older woman nodded earnestly, not daring to rise or speak until she was certain Alissandra had finished. 'I spiked a loaf with the potion you gave me, the girl and three others ate it. They were all male so no change will be wrought upon them.'

  If this mollified Alissandra any she didn't let it show. 'I shall ask you this a second time, don't make me ask a third time. What was it that detained you?'

  'I encountered... a force, my lady.'

  She said nothing to this, the silence was prompt enough that Mildred needed to tell her more.

  'A young man, deathly ill. I played my part and offered to assist in order to demonstrate trust, when I touched him my world went dark. When I came to I was in several pieces and had no recollection as to why.'

  Alissandra snorted in derision. 'Old bag, as decrepit as you are even you don't burst into pieces at the touch of a young man. I shall look into this matter but it is probably of little import to us at this time. The trap has been set, now all we need do is wait, you are dismissed.'

  As Mildred picked herself up from off the floor and hobbled out of the room, Alissandra turned to Eli who seemed enraptured by the pear he had obtained.

  'What do you think, Eli my dear?'

  He continued sucking on the pear as if nobody had spoken to him, then raised his head as if noticing her presence for the first time.

  'I don't like her, she makes me feel bad,' he mumbled, his mouth still full.

  Alissandra let out a tittering laugh and patted Eli on the head as if he had cracked a joke of extreme wit. 'Of course my sweet, of course she makes you feel bad. She's a nasty old bag of bones. Do you think she was telling me the truth?'

  Eli nodded back at her, reluctantly letting the fruit fall into his hands. 'She is scared of you, too scared to be bad and tell lies.'

  She harrumphed in response, whether that remained the case was questionable. Whatever game Mildred was playing would certainly advance a pace after having to recover information at her own expense. The old crone saw herself as more than a simple lackey and who could blame her? Once it was her that held this most hallowed of positions so many years ago. Time makes fools of almost all and she had been destined to slip up eventually. Now there was one last task before things were set in motion.

  'Eli my precious sugar pear, would you be so kind as to speak to El-Vador for me? He's coming back to Levanin to see us.'

  Eli's face lit up and he scurried out the door.

  60

  Re'tak

  The yellowskin spent most of its time sitting silently, there wasn't much else to do given their current state. It hadn't spoken another word to him after their previous conversation and its thoughts had remained cloaked from him. This was something that Re'tak didn't appreciate.

  He willed his mind out, questing toward the yellowskin again. The creature had offered him freedom and given their current circumstances there was little to lose in trusting him again in spite of his failure.

  Are you awake, yellowskin?

  The response seemed to come a bit quicker than in their previous conversation.

  I am awake. What is it you wish of me?

  A number of questions wound their way into Re'tak's head but he decided to prioritise.

  I can read the thoughts of other paleskins but your mind is largely hidden to me, why is this?

  The paleskin shifted position then, apparently this came as a revelation to it.

  I too can read the thoughts of others, I was brought up in a place where those with my ability are trained to hide their thoughts from such things.

  Re'tak grunted, it stood to reason that it had an innate ability that the other paleskins lacked. No, not it. He. This was no longer some strange beast, it had communicated with him distinctly.

  Do you have a name, yellowskin?

  The silence that stretched out was a little longer than before, as if signalling a turning point in this strange mental conversation between them.

  My name is Hern, do you have a name?

  Re'tak eased his way over toward Hern, hoping not to startle him into silence.

  I am known as Re'tak, where are you from Hern and what brin
gs you here?

  They spent the next hour conversing mentally, detailing how they had been captured and enslaved, the company seemed to while away the hours at a greater rate. Had he not been dying, Re'tak would have thought much longer over the revelation that he could converse with another species to such a degree. It wasn't long before the conversation turned to talk of escape.

  61

  Jimmy

  It had been a terrible day. They had been marched out and joined a line of former rioters outside one of the massive sheds he felt he had seen before, they all looked similar to him.

  The cheerful weather seemed to have a sense of humour amidst all this human suffering, making the seaside town look more beautiful than ever before. It felt like he was saying goodbye to a memory of a place that never existed.

  The shed doors groaned open to reveal a large cage on wheels and two massive horned creatures that Jimmy had never seen before. A rider mounted the seat behind them and coaxed the animals to drag the cage out into the light.

  The mass of guards that stood watching the process brooked no argument as one by one the manacles came off and they shoved their prisoners into the shed. It was the first pang of fear that Jimmy had experienced since seeing The Hermit subdued to Kelgrimm. He was going to live in that cage with these other unsavoury men that neither obeyed the law of the land or chose to join the now defunct Black Quail.

  He looked on as the man he was just thinking about had the manacles removed from his arms. He didn't know why he was expecting him to fight back, he also hadn't hid the disappointment he had felt at the man being unable to prevent their capture. Had he overestimated The Hermit's capabilities? Or was it simply his loyalties that were questionable? Jimmy discarded that question, if The Hermit was that corrupt he wouldn't have ended up in this cage.

  He offered no resistance and didn't seem overly perturbed by the rough treatment received as he was bundled into the cage. A number of the guard had edged closer when the manacles had come off, still wary of the man based on his reputation. It seemed that their concern was unjustified, The Hermit's entering the cage had offered the least resistance thus far.

  It was a largely perfunctory business after that, they were loaded up like cattle and soon set off at a slow trundle toward the city gates with the guards marching alongside.

  Jimmy had expected an angry mob to greet them, pelting them with rotten food and calling them foul names, nothing of the sort occurred. The streets were decidedly empty and anyone that witnessed the cart rumbling into view either kept their distance or wanted nothing to do with a large contingency of guards after recent events.

  Jimmy had reluctantly stayed near The Hermit at his beckoning, Jakob joined them after being called by name. They had all stood silently then, watching the streets pass by without a word left to say.

  It wasn't until much later that Jimmy had finally turned to Jakob, who was experimentally running his hands against the frame of the cage as if he was planning on tearing that off too.

  'You haven't said a word to me since you recovered.'

  Jakob finally let go of the cage and sighed. 'I suppose you want to know what happened after we got separated, don't you?'

  He nodded, waiting for him to go on, The Hermit watched the conversation with a strange expression on his face that Jimmy couldn't read.

  'Well?' Jimmy asked, growing frustrated at the lack of response. 'Are you going to tell me what happened?'

  Jakob eyed The Hermit wordlessly, this only caused Jimmy's frustration to grow. There was something unspoken between the two of them that he wasn't privy to and the enforced mystery was driving him crazy. He felt as if he were merely the catalyst for some larger point of contention and upon fulfilling that role he had been promptly forgotten about. Now it seemed like he was stuck with a companion that wouldn't answer and one that couldn't answer.

  He flung his arms up in frustration and settled down onto the floor, purposefully refusing to meet either of his 'friends' in the eye. If either man seemed put out by his behaviour there was a distinct lack of any effort on their part to make amends.

  He watched the countryside sail past in a slow panorama, if he tried hard enough he could almost envisage it without the bars framing his sight. The pervading thought came back to him harder than ever before. He wished he could just go home and never leave the inn again, to wake up and find a hard day's work ahead of him with no prospects of imprisonment or exile into a strange land.

  An arm settled down on Jimmy's shoulder, he jumped involuntarily at the touch then discovered that The Hermit had come closer. He looked into the older man's eyes and saw profound sorrow in them, it was an unspoken apology and one that he desperately needed. His silent protector settled himself beside him, still keeping his arm on Jimmy's back in a supportive manner. For some reason Jimmy found tears had come to his eyes unbidden. It had been a terrible day.

  62

  Garth

  It had been a long and fruitless effort but he was damned if he was going to go down without a fight. At least half of the latest shipment of destroyed weapons and armour had been crafted into serviceable fashion again. Granted, the standard was somewhat lacking but given the magnitude of the task it was more than acceptable for a rushed job.

  It was a mixture of seething anger and pride in his work that drove him on, pushing back the welling pit of hopelessness. He worked the entirety of the day, pausing briefly for water and little else before continuing through the night and deep into the following morning. Nobody approached him about the noise throughout this, they had seen the task that had been set before him and knew better.

  It had been more than he had ever done before, that much was apparent. He had wondered of late whether the impossibility of the workload was more a reflection of his age and skill than anything else. That niggling idea had been put to rest by the vast amount of repairs he had conducted in a haze of sweat and anger. In spite of this the satisfaction of doing so was hollow when he knew all his efforts still weren't going to be enough.

  For the first time in an age he considered the possibility that not hiring an apprentice was a mistake. It wasn't a long thought, he didn't tend to linger on things that he couldn't change, instead choosing to live in the moment. Ultimately he could have hired three men and they still wouldn't have completed the work in time, if anything the extra bodies would have hampered his own efforts somewhat.

  His thoughts felt compressed as if a great weight was pushing itself down upon his brow, he knew the tell-tale signs of exhaustion better than most and had forced himself to lay down his tools and accept his fate.

  He had washed then and donned a fresh set of clothing, not wanting to give his visitors the satisfaction of seeing him toil to the last possible moment.

  The wagon was immaculate in its timing as always, it was with a sense of resignation that Garth realised it was nowhere near large enough to fit all his repairs. They clearly knew that there was no way he could complete this final task asked of him. He only hoped his replacement in the wagon could finish what he started in time, for the sake of those in desperate need of armament on the frontier.

  The horses came to a halt in front of his Smithy, he waited patiently as the rider dismounted and opened the wagon door, extending a small set of steps and mutely beckoning Garth toward them.

  Three muscular young men exited the cart and walked past Garth without word. The smith didn't bother acknowledging them, he need not guess why they were here.

  Another smaller man exited the wagon, flanked on either side by a guard. It all seemed rather unnecessary to Garth, what was the man expecting him to do? Fight his way to freedom? He silently wondered how many had attempted that very thing prior to this visitation. No, there would be no running away from his responsibilities any longer.

  'General Garth,' the man spoke jovially, sticking his hand out without the slightest sign of trepidation. Garth shook it tentatively, he wasn't expecting such pleasantries.

  'I am Colo
nel Mayer, sir. We are here to safely escort you from Escana to Sah'kel, we trust that your business is concluded here?'

  The tone was more as if the man was retrieving him from a brief excursion than discarding twenty years of livelihood. He knew he should be more upset at the belittling of his decision, intentional or not, he had envisaged things being far less savoury than this and chose to accept it without quarrel.

  Mayer looked about thirty years of age. His head was shaven clean but he cultivated a slight stubble to hide a weak jaw-line. This was no man of the field, he had probably been the nearest recruiter in the area. The rank bestowed upon him was more likely earned through convincing young men to their deaths than commanding them on the front line.

  He continued to shake the man's hand, more firmly this time, then in taking a step toward the wagon he left no confusion as to who they were dealing with. It was like stepping back into a shadow of the past and finding it fit perfectly, the words came to him naturally.

  'Then let us waste no further time with formalities Colonel, you can impart information to me as we travel. Do the horses need rested or are they prepared for the return journey?'

  The Colonel stepped into line and the guards followed suit, it was all too familiar.

  'The horses were changed at Urial so they are fairly fresh, we can set off immediately if that is your order. I have been given instructions to brief you on the finer points of the latest conflict.'

  Garth nodded, ducking down into the wagon and settling himself for the long journey.

  The wagon interior was well-cushioned and sported a table between the seats, the guards decided not to join them. Apparently Mayer was satisfied that Garth wasn't going to murder him on the way. Given the pontificating conversation throughout their journey so far, Garth wasn't entirely sure that was the case.

  He had heard it many times in the past, the glorious hot-air ramblings of a man who had never seen combat. There was talk of patriotism and duty and because of his recommissioned rank, Mayer would often pause in the hope that Garth would share 'war stories' back and forth. As if war were a hobby, an amusement to whittle away the hours.