Escana

by J. R. Karlsson

  Yalem shook his head, Dyson didn't need any other indication.

  'Thank you Tub, you're dismissed.'

  The repugnant little man fired off a quick salute and exited with as much haste as his dignity could muster. Dyson let the silence linger for a time, staring back down at his papers as if the matter were settled.

  'Tell me stranger,' he finally said. 'How exactly did you bewitch my man?'

  The prisoner shut his eyes and muttered something under his breath. Dyson strained to hear it but it was inaudible.

  Yalem grabbed the boy's arm and squeezed it mercilessly. 'Answer the Corporal.'

  He stared straight at them then with an odd intensity, Dyson felt unsettled by his gaze, it was if he had cornered some vermin only to find the eyes of a snake staring back at him.

  I will remain in A-Company, you will not question this. Your bodyguard will escort me back to my rooms.

  The words hit him like a slap in the face, embedding themselves in his skull and refusing to come unstuck until he complied. He ran his hands through his hair and clamped his fingers over his scalp protectively, he could feel the boy's eyes still on him, burning holes in his precarious defences. He was under no illusions as to why Tub had placed this boy in the A-Company. This newcomer would remain in A-Company, he wouldn't question that. He'd get Yalem to escort him out of here and back to...

  He caught himself then. Was he thinking that or was his mind reiterating what it had been told to think? All he knew was that to think otherwise caused a blinding pain to erupt behind his eyes.

  He looked up eventually at Yalem, who bore a confused expression on his face, then finally forced himself to stare at the stranger once again. He hadn't stayed alive this long in Greyhawk without knowing when to play it safe.

  'You will remain in A-Company.' The words seem to come to him seamlessly. 'I have no further questions about this. Yalem here will escort you back to your rooms.'

  The boy nodded back at him and turned to leave, Yalem gave him a distrustful look but didn't open his mouth if he was considering gainsaying anything.

  As the door slammed shut Dyson exhaled, scattering sheets upon the floor. He hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath and the impact of the previous mental commands on his skull had somehow exhausted him.

  A cold fear gripped him then, his heart pounded and his paranoia grew exponentially with every beat. He tried to shut them off but his mind caught glimpses of his own inevitable demise at the hands of this boy.

  No, boy was inadequate. Dyson had never experienced anything quite like this and it terrified him.

  What was that creature?

  87

  Hern/Re'tak

  He had a bad feeling about this.

  The guards forcibly dragged him to down into the depths of the fort and he lost count of the strange turns the passage had taken, eventually he came out into an all-too-familiar room.

  The rows of weapons before him were the same as before. It would appear that he was to fight in the arena once again. He knew he wasn't in Dyson's good books but why was the man risking the loss of his control over Re'tak?

  He had thought about the lizard a lot over the past few days, certainly his lot had improved having been kept in vaguely sanitary conditions with the most pathetic and miserable bunch of fighters he had ever seen. He wondered if they had been treating Re'tak any better as a result of his appeal to Dyson. He had tried to reach out to the creature to speak to him but it caused nothing but exhaustion, if Re'tak was still alive Hern had no way of discerning it.

  The boy he had the misfortune of bullying couldn't have sold him out so quickly. He hadn't any way of contacting Dyson without Hern knowing and if he was any judge of character, this boy wasn't going to betray him.

  The thoughts continued to swirl in his head as he picked up a quarterstaff and weighed it in his hands, the balance wasn't exceptional but it would have to suffice. The other weapons looked like they'd struggle to shave his opponent, let alone cause injury.

  Indicating that he had finished his perusal, Hern was escorted more warily by the guards now as he made his way toward the arena floor. He couldn't remember if they had been present during his previous demonstration to Dyson but had no doubt that they had been made fully aware of what had happened.

  The sun was blinding as he finally took to the sandy arena floor. He shaded his hand and gazed around the bowl, it seemed that the entire fort had turned out for this particular encounter. There was already some heckling from a group of guards upon his appearance. The two behind him proceeded to prod him firmly but cautiously, indicating he should make his way to the centre of the arena.

  As his sight recovered, he noticed two other men standing patiently ahead of him. One was clearly Tub, the man was unmistakable even from this distance, there was no doubt in Hern's mind that he wouldn't be fighting this arrogant little creature, as much as he'd want to.

  He gripped the quarterstaff firmly, feeling nothing of his former strength. Try as he might to avoid it from happening, his conditions had managed to sap him of his previous vigour and leave him in no state to fight. He only hoped that his competitor was suffering from the same problems.

  He was a tall man, wrapped up in some kind of cloak in spite of the sweltering heat. His hazel eyes watched Hern appraisingly as he approached, there was no indication of fear or panic. They may as well have been having a meal together out here for all the emotion the man displayed. Hern didn't like that one bit.

  A quarterstaff of the same make as his own hung loosely at the man's side, the fingers of his opponent were rapping an odd rhythm on it.

  His trepidation rose, any unforeseen circumstances were a potential threat and this man gave him nothing but mystery to go on. Hern dampened his emotions down, none of the things he worried about presently were things he could change. He would simply have to focus on the task at hand and determine the calibre of his opposition in combat.

  Tub gave him a malevolent glare of glee, he was clearly relishing the possibility of retribution at the hands of another. Taking a deep breath, the squat little man turned spoke to the crowd.

  'This fight will last until one competitor either submits or is rendered unable to fight. There are to be no death blows.' A groan from the guards. 'Though if a competitor accidentally lands a killing blow we will not hold it against him.' A cheer from the same group of guards, laughter from some. Tub was clearly eyeing Hern's opponent as he said those words, was that a command or simply a wish?

  The squat little man backed off then and uttered a single word. 'Fight!'.

  Hern closed the gap between himself and his opponent, bringing up the staff in a defensive posture. He shut off the shouting of the crowd and his own hopes and fears, surrendering himself to years of training and the moment in which they needed to be exercised.

  Something was wrong. The stranger he faced off against made no move in response to Hern's, choosing to remain stock still in the middle of the arena. Hern decided to flank him, hoping to provoke a reaction that he could finally glean some information from.

  As he circled round, the man still refused to raise his staff to defend the inevitable. In fact it seemed that he hadn't moved at all since Hern had entered the arena, what was he playing at? Was he going to submit the second Hern brushed him with his staff?

  He closed the arc of the circling, he could easily have lashed out with the staff and broken it across the man's back if he wanted to. He decided against it, perhaps that was what his foe was expecting.

  Desiring an end to the strange deadlock, Hern took a step forward and experimentally jabbed at the man's cloak with his staff.

  Nothing happened, his weapon gently pushed against the cloak and into the man's ribs. Hern still wasn't convinced, why would the man expect any mercy out here in Sah'kel?

  He drew back his staff and swung low for the back of the man's legs, looking to upend him and force a quick finish to this.

  The man leapt into the air slightly, s
kipping over the top of the intended blow and causing Hern's staff to whistle through the air, the momentum turning him briefly and ineffectually.

  Righting himself swiftly, Hern immediately followed his attempted trip with a straight thrust at the man's sternum, there was no dodging that.

  The quarterstaff swept up out of nowhere and shattered the tip of Hern's weapon in a shower of splinters. The force of the strike reverberated through his arms and almost forced him to drop his weapon. He took a step back, blinking at the measured calm of his opponent as he finally started to advance.

  Hern had a very bad feeling about this.

  Re'tak felt the presence from the bleak confines of his captivity, there were more of them out to spar against each other. Perhaps this time they would finally unleash him, maybe he could drag a body back into the squalor. It wouldn't be like the pale-skins to care for their fallen comrades. He was so desperate that the bony flesh seemed like a banquet right now, just tantalisingly out of reach.

  The deliveries of rancid meat had steadily increased over the course of the recent indeterminable amount of time, possibly indicating that what this yellow-skin Hern promised had come true. Maybe he had communicated that Re'tak required more sustenance and even now he could be divining a way to spring them free of this place. Then again, he hadn't heard from Hern at all since they had taken him into the blinding light, what if he had been killed in the ensuing exchange of words with the other pale-skins?

  Pushing his thoughts away from such morbidity, Re'tak chose to focus on sensing the pale-skins that entered the arena.

  One of them was as tightly wound as the guts of a cave rat, anxiety and anger radiated off it for all to perceive. He had sensed this one many times before, it seemed to be a leader of some description, though how such a wildly emotive creature could lead anything was beyond Re'tak. He sincerely doubted it was in charge of the entire structure in which he was imprisoned. More likely it was an underling of some sort, just barely capable of doing its own job.

  He could feel a series of them now from above, these ones were not partaking in the day's activities and as a result their usual emotional responses were dampened. Was the underling planning on giving a speech to them? No, there would be others eventually, he just had to remain patient.

  Questing out into the centre of the arena again, Re'tak hit a wall. He jerked back, slapping his tail painfully off the confines of his cell. There was something out there, something blocking his every probing thought with a resistance the likes of which he had never felt before.

  He hesitantly sent his thoughts outward once more, tensed up in preparation for the sensation now, it was then that he felt someone far more familiar approaching.

  The wall that this man put up didn't rebuff Re'tak with such force, simply negating his efforts to ascertain thought and emotion. It would seem that his friend Hern was still alive, for now.

  It was an odd sensation, to search for feeling in two individuals and be rebuffed twice. Far worse than the frustration he felt at being enclosed for such a long period of time. Re'tak had grown accustomed to being able to feel everything around him, to come up with nothing was as if he had been rendered blind.

  He heard the cracking sound even through the heavy door of his cell, that could only have been caused by splintering wood under high impact. He had heard palms snap in oasis ambushes that made a similar sound, that a human had created such a noise was distressing.

  The second snapping noise was even louder than the first, Re'tak leapt back in shock as a loud thud hit the door, whatever was going on out there wasn't what he had come to expect of such a weak species.

  Help.

  The word was clear and loud in its urgency, there was no mistaking who had sent the thought either.

  Re'tak backed up what little he could and charged at the door, already weakened from his previous aborted attempts to free himself. The hinges shuddered on impact and he felt half-dazed with concussion, nevertheless he charged at the door repeatedly. His friend needed him.

  Hern stared dumbly at the splintered end of his quarterstaff, he had never seen anything like it. A thin plume of smoke rose into the air from the end of the wood, threatening to ignite. The friction of the strike had been enough to set fire to his weapon, not even a master could wield a weapon with such power. Hern wasn't aware that wood could light under a single strike, even under the hot Sah'kel sun. Who was this stranger and why was he now advancing after being passive to the point of comatose prior to their engagement?

  He suspected that his attempt to attack the man had awoken his ire, though he couldn't exactly forfeit in front of the watching crowd. They'd have killed him for such blatant insubordination regardless of his control over Re'tak.

  Re'tak. How could he have forgotten about Re'tak? The lizard was the key here, if he could somehow free him from his captivity he stood a chance against this strange competitor.

  Still, there was always the possibility that the man he was facing was all power and no skill. Hern warily watched him advance, eyes trained on him again. Could it have been a lucky strike?

  The stranger brought his staff up between his hands as if it were a giant broadsword delivering execution, Hern struck low and hard, aiming for the mid-riff in the hopes of doubling the man up.

  A foot snaked out of the cloak and brushed his thrust aside, sending him off balance once again. He felt the tearing of air above his head and brought his own staff up on instinct in an overhead block.

  The deafening cracking noise echoed across the arena, Hern's eyes couldn't follow the movement but it seemed to have stopped short of caving his skull in. His numb hands flew apart in the impact, wrenching his shoulders and sending him falling backward into the sand. On instinct he flipped back up to face his opponent, who had clearly displayed that the first strike was no fluke.

  The two pieces of what was once his quarterstaff now smouldered on each end, whatever this man was doing with the remaining weapon wasn't natural. Had the stranger been purposefully planted with some chemically altered equivalent? The passive face revealed nothing, making it impossible to tell whether he was surprised at the effect it was having or not. Irrespective of whether the weapon had been altered, it still required a great deal of skill to evade Hern's attacks, this wasn't looking good.

  Tossing aside the now-useless lumps of wood, Hern adopted a defensive stance and watched the man advance toward him.

  He could feel Re'tak's presence pounding on the outside of his defences, demanding to know what was going on in the fight, he knew the lizard would have had just as rude an awakening after trying to read the stranger.

  Hern dove out of the way of the next strike, he thought he had measured it comfortably but felt the surface of the wood brushing against him painfully as it cracked down on the arena floor. He righted himself just in time to see the foot sweeping out toward him.

  It was a strange sensation, he felt his entire upper body go numb and the leg seemed to hang there, as if attached to him somehow. Then with a lurch he flew across the arena and crashed into the doors of Re'tak's pen.

  Help.

  An unexpected cushion of air stopped the doors from snapping him in half, he was too dazed to think of where it could have come from. Staggering to his feet and spitting out sand from his mouth, he tried to pry his eyes open and get a fix on where the stranger was.

  The man stood right in front of him, watching him with his expressionless features.

  Stay down.

  The voice in his head wasn't Re'tak's. It came from the stranger, was he imploring that he surrender?

  A crashing noise came from the doors behind him, Re'tak was trying to get out and help him.

  He shook his head, it may have been the most frustrating quality that the masters had to contend with, he never gave up.

  He aimed a punch-drunk swipe at the stranger, more in defiance than out of any hope he'd hit him. He received a knee to the gut that dropped him into the sand.

  A se
cond crash strained the hinges of the doors behind them, he had felt those doors thoroughly in the dark of the cell, Re'tak could cause horrendous amounts of damage when whipped into a frenzy. He wearily wondered if the extra food that had been given the lizard would be enough to...

  A hand grabbed his torn rags and hoisted him out of the sound and into the air, he vaguely heard a swell of anticipation from the crowd. He beat ineffectively at the man's arm but he may as well have been punching the arena wall for all the good it did.

  In his hearing the crowd again, it appeared that the last strike had been enough to dislodge his self-control. The sun blinded his sight as he tried to force his eyes open again, he started to struggle frantically as fear finally took hold.

  Re'tak felt the fear escalate in Hern, he was stood just beyond the door of his prison, though the waves of exhaustion he could feel from him suggested it was barely by his own power.

  The had heard the hinges screech on his last charge, they were definitely starting to give way. It didn't ease his anxiety any, he had no idea if the doors would buckle in time to protect his only way out of here, his friend.

  The frustration and suffocation in this confinement reached boiling point within him, he let out a roar and charged at the doors with everything he had left.

  They cannoned outward and sailed through the air, one of them leaving a dent in the arena wall before coming to rest in a cloud of sand and splintered wood. Re'tak righted himself, opening his second lids and searching for his prey.

  Hern lay in a heap to the left of the entrance, some debris from the gate had just fallen shy of him and it would appear that both combatants had the good sense to get clear of the door when they heard him charging at it.

  Re'tak spotted the pale-skin standing stock still in the centre of the arena, this time he made no attempt to read him, instead he moved to Hern's aid.