Escana

by J. R. Karlsson

  95

  Ella

  She stared up at the cloudless sky, it never rained on Levanin. That just added to the feeling of artificiality that permeated every block of this pure white plateau. The last week had seen El-Vador come and go on a variety of errands, now that she saw him for who he was he was more open about what those errands entailed. An unruly Earl on the fringes not showing due fealty to the Empire, a roving band of troublemakers looking to bring about anarchy in their region. What surprised Ella most about his work was that so little of it involved violence. Here was someone that could snuff out a life as if it were an afterthought and yet the majority of the conflicts he claimed were ended peacefully without any need for his sword.

  She had seen it once prior to his departure, a long obsidian blade with a strange curve and handle. He had explained that it was almost as old as he was and that he had never managed to find a name for it as those with such attachments to their armaments were wont to do.

  She brushed the tangles out of her morning hair with the small ivory comb he had gifted her. He was a strange creature, he offered no flirtation and made no advances beyond that of friendship and yet the gifts and tolerance of her presence when he had no others he called friends indicated that she was special to him in some way. What was it he saw in her that caused him to treat her this way?

  The noise of a throat clearing from behind started her, she turned round to see Belesdair smiling upon her as if her presence here were the most natural thing in the world.

  'I assume you must be young Ella?' the old man said.

  She looked at him for a moment, wondering how he could possibly see her, let alone know her by name. El-Vador had assured her that she would be invisible in his absence, that the glamour would hold in spite of the distance he put between himself and Levanin. Could this old man see through that?

  'I'm sorry if I startled you my dear. Everalm told me that he had taken a new ward, we were all most shocked by it given his age. Looking upon your fair face makes me realise what made him come to such a decision.'

  Everalm. That was the name El-Vador had used in front of this man and his friends, why had he allowed this man sight of her?

  'Anyway, I do believe introductions are in order as I currently am at a distinct advantage. I am Belesdair, scholar, philosopher and owner of Belesdair's Books. Have you heard of me?'

  She tried to hide her confusion. 'I am not of Levanin, I am unfortunately ignorant of your ventures, sir.'

  Belesdair gave a faint chuckle to that. 'Oh Everalm, such a voice she has too and so well-spoken. My apologies, I haven't informed you of why I have made this approach. You see, my good friend Everalm invited me to show you around Upper Levanin in his absence. He says that he had been meaning to do so but his work had been keeping him busy and his old legs weren't what they used to be.'

  Ella didn't know how to feel about this, the man seemed well-meaning enough but why would El-Vador encourage a total stranger to give her a tour of a city when he could do so quite easily? In all honesty she would have preferred El-Vador's company to that of Belesdair. In spite of his kindly tone, she found herself distrustful and wary of this old man.

  'By all means, I would appreciate the opportunity to learn more of this wondrous city.'

  She had little choice in the matter, to reject the man would not sit well with El-Vador. Perhaps in his own strange way this was a further gift from him, an experienced resident showing her the city in his own inimitable fashion. Was there some kind of lesson that he wanted her to glean from it all?

  'Capital!' Belesdair exclaimed, moving forward with surprisingly sure steps and offering her his arm. Ella looped her own arm around his, trying to shake off the feeling of entrapment in doing so.

  'Upper Levanin was created in a time beyond memory by our Lord Lektus, he enthused the column of pure energy and deigned that the greatest of mankind soar higher than the clouds in their endeavours. Every structure you see was cast with his divine blessing out of the purest white marble that faded not with the passage of years. You may have seen imitations adorning places of power in the other cities and towns that you have visited across the Empire, they are a mere homage to the grace and majesty that has been bestowed upon us.'

  They walked as he chattered on about his blessed city. Ella feigned interest in his babbling and grew weary of the thousandth block of marble that she passed. Apparently the lower city was like any other while the upper was reserved for thinkers and philosophers and the creative souls. Most of which had spent their lives toiling in Lower Levanin for the opportunity to ascend. It amused her that the man's deeply spiritual rendition of Levanin's creation clashed with what El-Vador had told her. What need had she of religion when a seemingly ageless demi-god was there in the flesh?

  She had been vaguely listening to his incessant chatter and goading him on with the occasional question when he turned to a topic of interest.

  'Within this building is the Levanin Academy, where the youth from all over the realm gather and are taught accordingly how to control their power.'

  Ella thought it was an odd way of expressing it. 'I suppose that to the man of education, knowledge is a form of power.'

  Belesdair shook his head. 'I'm beginning to see why Everalm insisted that we have this tour together, you really do not know the power of which I speak, do you?'

  Now Ella was interested. 'I must profess my ignorance Belesdair, if I have erred I only ask that you chastise me lightly and correct me swiftly.'

  'The academy of Levanin is for the education of those blessed with great power bestowed upon them by our Lord Lektus.'

  Ella remained confused, the spiritual roots of his explanations were obfuscating what actually went on behind those marble pillars. 'What exactly do you mean by power?'

  The old man sighed. 'You are not a believer in our Lord, I can hear it in your words. Observe if you will and consider this against what you already believe to be true.'

  He unlinked his arm from hers and crossed over to the entrance of the building, he appeared to be staring at a flower bed.

  'I am but an old man, my powers have weakened as Lektus wills, I relinquish my share to the youth.' He raised an arm theatrically, leaving Ella none the wiser as to what he was doing.

  'I have met many who claim that logic and a sound reasoning are the basis for all knowledge, I challenge that belief with that which we have yet to comprehend. Perhaps in time all that I know will be explained away by those who seek to define the world in their terms, for now every nay-sayer has yet to understand this.'

  He turned, arm stilled raised and his second hand shaking as if with palsy. Suspended between both of them was a flower, gently shaking the soil off its stem in time with the movement of his hand. He willed it outward and it travelled across the space between them, hovering gently above her hand. She reached out tentatively, touching the stem with a single finger. It wasn't a trick or an illusion, the flower was suspended in mid-air before her and it was entirely real.

  'Have faith, my good lady Ella. It is as Lektus wills it and the power he has given me is but a taste of what transpires behind those walls, safely away from the world below us. I know in my heart there is nothing to compare to the power of the Almighty himself.'

  No, that's where he was wrong. She had no need for an Almighty, for what she had seen rendered this old man's parlour trick meaningless.

  96

  Jadil

  Things were changing around Greyhawk and Jadil didn't care for it. First there had been the lizard creature's arrival that had led to extra feeding duties, then there were the two newcomers to A-Company that had them very worried indeed. The fallout of their actions in the arena had the guards constantly vigilant on duty should the scaled monster return to feast upon Greyhawk. Now their Captain had been incapacitated and they feared an uprising spearheaded by these new powerful combatants.

  There was a nervous tension in the dry air that refused to clear, Jadil didn't care for that e
ither. He was a simple man who had forged the semblance of a life out here in the harsh desert after his disgrace back in Je'dara. It had taken him years to get used to the bigotry of the guards stationed here but over time he had found his place and didn't want that needlessly destroyed by some revolutionary thinking they could run Sah'kel better than Corporal Dyson.

  This was the most tedious part of his life, standing out in the mid-day sun in full armour trying to spy any unexpected arrivals in the wavering distance. All in all it was an entirely pointless exercise given that Sah'kel's only visitors were scheduled well in advance. For some reason Dyson was insistent that they maintain constant watch over the gate, it came off to Jadil as overly paranoid but who was he to question his superiors?

  Through virtue of the length of time he had served here and Yalem's incapacitation he had found himself in the unenviable position of occasionally filling in for the Guard Captain. He only seemed to get these duties when the Corporal was in his foulest of moods, from what he heard from the other guards that was nearly all the time these days.

  He blinked his eyes to clear them of the white flash, all too familiar of the effect the heat of the desert could have on his sight. This time it was different, the whiteness wasn't fading, a single point of light formed nearby and expanded outward until it was at least eight feet in height. It looked awfully like a...

  A man stepped out of the brightness, raising a hand to his brows to ward off the blinding sun. The light closed behind him and everything returned to what it was before.

  Jadil raised his spear warily, in all his time with the guard he had never been told how to proceed should an uninvited guest arrive at the fort. Those who knew of Greyhawk but had no official business there tended to stay away.

  'Greetings, guardsman,' the man said, lowering his hands as he approached at an amiable pace.

  'Who be you and why you come to Greyhawk?' Jadil asked, trying to sound as officious as possible.

  The man smiled back at him, though on his cavernous face the expression wasn't overly endearing. 'I am here on official business, I heard there was an unreported disturbance possibly caused by a rogue talent. Is Corporal Dyson still in command of this fort?'

  What did the man mean by disturbances? Was he talking about the recent events in the arena? What was that thing that he had appeared out of?

  'My good man, your eyes are full of questions but your lips remain shut, I would appreciate a response so I need not be kept much longer in this blazing heat.'

  Jadil decided to play it by the book, he knew that no unauthorised visitors were allowed to enter the fort for fear of usurpers, Dyson had explicitly mentioned that rule to him many times.

  'I'm sorry friend, I cannot let you pass. I tell Dyson of your arrival if you wish, you must stay out now.'

  The smile flickered slightly as the man took a few more steps forward.

  'You have no idea who I am, do you?' he said.

  Having the man closer wasn't imposing in the physical sense, it was rather an unsettling aura about him that suggested danger. Jadil gripped his spear a little tighter and hoped he wouldn't be forced into defending himself.

  'No, I do not know who you are,' he offered, trying to remain calm and diplomatic.

  The man's eyes flashed briefly, yet Jadil didn't jump in shock. Instead he seemed rooted to the ground as if the sand beneath him had sucked his ankles in.

  'You will let me pass, you will open the gate and you will take me to see Corporal Dyson.'

  Jadil felt a pressure building in his head, he knew that he wasn't to let any potential intruders pass on pain of death, especially strangers with questionable business like the man standing before him. For some reason the facts of the matter slipped away from him like so much inconsequential nothingness. He had been ordered to admit the man and take him to Dyson, there was something entirely agreeable about such a suggestion. After all, if he was a high-ranking official of the Emperor then it was his duty to bow to the man's will.

  His body seemed to move of its own accord, unlocking the door within the gate for the man to step through. It was like being a spectator of his own actions and applauding the rightness of them. He was merely a guard, it was not in his best interests to defy an agent of the Empire over such a nonsensical ruling. After all, how much damage could one man do?

  They walked down the corridors together and nobody thought to stop them. A senior guard escorting what looked to be another messenger from Levanin was something that the guards tried to avoid for fear of reprisal.

  Jadil hadn't mastered Yalem's strange knocking on the door of Dyson but he had developed a suitably unique one of his own that the Corporal had made sure he was familiar with.

  As the muffled voice bid them enter, he opened the door for his esteemed guest and walked in after him.

  Dyson looked furious at being interrupted, upon noticing the unfamiliar man his anger was joined by confusion and fear.

  'Jadil, what is the meaning of this? Who is this man?'

  Jadil's lips were sealed though, it was not his place to speak.

  'Corporal Dyson I assume?' the stranger said, planting his arms on either side of the desk. 'My name is Harold Gooseman, we need to talk.'

  97

  Gadtor

  Gadtor never realised just how much waiting was involved in being a drafted recruit of the Imperial army. The appalling state of the camp didn't help with that, neither did the continuous odd looks he received for the way he was being held captive. He had yet to see any others with a block clasping their leg to another human being.

  The worst part about it all was that he need not be here. After mistakenly trusting Kelgrimm following the delusion and betrayal brought about by the creature called El-Vador, he had ended up tied to an ill-tempered man who seemed ready to die. He had just about got used to the consequences of constantly being in the man's space, it was the remorse over his actions that crippled him. The long hours stretched out seemingly without end as he turned over in his mind all his mistakes and regrets and pondered how different it could have been if he had just listened to Falarus in that dungeon.

  He had warned him that they are going to try and divide the two of them in spirit, he had told him not to listen whatever they said. Gadtor had not heeded those words and they had come at the cost of his closest friend's life and an exile to this nightmare.

  He had expected to be taken advantage of considering their condition, yet none of the people who gave them looks went so far as to comment. Perhaps this was one of the few advantages of being trapped with such an intimidating man, there was something highly unnerving about Thom that every man in the camp they'd met seemed both to pick up on and wish to avoid.

  Thom had even fewer words to say to Gadtor as the days ran on, nothing changed in the camp either. There was a sense of great unrest that no merriment could seem to penetrate, they all had that same look in their eyes. Everyone was waiting for the inevitable tide of scales and claws to surface over the dunes and smash them to oblivion against the canyon walls.

  'We're going to die, aren't we?' Gadtor said.

  Thom gave him an odd look. 'You're not just figuring that out now, are you?'

  He shook his head. No, he had known that there was no way out of this situation, he had gleaned as much from what little conversation he could get out of those around him.

  'Who are you?' Gadtor asked him yet again.

  Thom turned to face him now, there was no anger in his eyes though. 'I considered taking my sword and severing both our legs from this snare, just to be free from that question you keep asking. I will ask you in return a single question, if you answer incorrectly I will kill you. If you respond the way I want you to I will answer you.'

  Gadtor didn't doubt the sincerity in the man's voice, he was generally considering it depending on his response.

  'What's the question you want me to answer?'

  'Why the fuck does it matter to you who I am?'

  He shrugged. 'It d
oesn't matter to me, we're all dead regardless. I just want to know the man I'm going to die fighting beside.'

  Thom look disappointed, Gadtor's heart sank.

  'Is that it? Your life hangs in the balance and the only thing you have to say is that you want to know me because you're going to die beside me? What of all the other men you're going to be fighting alongside? Are you going to get to know them as well? It doesn't fucking matter who they are or were, none of that is relevant. As soon as you go to Sah'kel you're done, who we were died the moment we were placed in that box without a struggle.'

  He loosened the large sword on his back. 'I can make this painless for you if you'd prefer. In spite of your incessant prattle every soldier deserves a clean death. Are you going to raise your blade in terrified defiance of my execution or are we going to do this like men?'

  Gadtor spotted a young boy running into their part of the camp, asking who the ranking officer was amongst them all. A man with no ear raised his arm and nobody sought to dispute him, they were all slaves here and few had held any rank prior to their being drafted.

  'Alright you set of bastards,' he roared with an intimidating basso of a voice. 'This boy here's from the new General himself, he's looking for anyone on the front line that's ranked Corporal or higher to make himself known. Any time-wasters will be put to the sword.'

  The raising of several hands immediately ceased, most people were just looking for a way to get off the front line and deeper into the camp where assaults from the lizard creatures were less likely.

  The boy added his reedy voice to the call. 'General Garth requests that any ranking officers above that of Lieutenant report to his tent immediately.'

  Silence greeted him,

  'As I thought, sorry kid. Nobody of any rank is here.'

  Gadtor felt a lurch as Thom pulled them both to their feet and started to hobble over toward the man.

  'What was the General's name?' he asked the boy urgently, Gadtor trying desperately not to topple them over in the wake of Thom's steps.