Escana (29 page)

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.

'
T
here,'
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 done 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.

T
he
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.