Escana (33 page)

Now
that their fears were peaking he chose to unveil himself, at first he
stuck his snout out and let a crooked grin display the curling of the
teeth across his jaw. Apparently whatever ghoul their imagination had
conjured up had not prepared them for the fear of reality.

His
eyes came next, flicking this way and that between each of them men,
assuring them quietly of their demise. Their fear was no act, these
men were terrified of him, not like his captors at all.

He
took a moment to survey the surroundings that remained entirely alien
to him. It was a wide clearing of sand shaped in an ovular fashion
with a small hole cut at one end of the large wall enclosing them.
Larger skins swooped downward over a series of strange objects with
two additional pinks sat amongst them. He tried digging at the nearby
wall with his claws but found no purchase, clearly he wasn't going to
climb his way out.

A
shrieking sound emitted from one of the pinks under the skins safe
from harm, his waving arms were clear even to Re'tak. Slowly the four
figures ahead of him closed the distance.

Their
skins were no different than any he had seen before, nor were the
objects they would try to stick him or club him with. There was a
primal confusion at such a foolish attack that Re'tak's inner
wariness silenced. Granted they didn't look much of a threat but
their aggressive and irrational behaviour even when laden with fear
and doubt was worth pausing to consider.

The
first man with a lengthened stick let out a yell and charged him,
Re'tak braced himself and leapt into the air to avoid his initial
thrust. He came down hard on the puzzled man's neck with a resounding
snap as his weight crushed it. Perhaps their assault was folly after
all.

It
was only after more shrieking from the pink under the skin that the
others charged him at once. He swept his tail in a quick slash and
decapitated two of them, the third being thrown across the oval
against the wall. He did not rise.

C
orporal
Dyson clapped his hands together in admiration of the slaughter,
turning to the troubled looking man beside him. 'Well Praetor, I hope
that was an adequate demonstration. Now you know what those poor
bastards in the front line are truly up against.'

The
Praetor clearly coughed in distaste at the mirth Dyson was showing.
'Your demonstration was most... enlightening, Corporal. I am somewhat
hesitant to acknowledge this beast as a genuine competitor in the
forthcoming tournament.'

Dyson's
face grew hard. 'You gave me assurances that if I found any talent in
this shithole I was free to employ it. Has there been a mistake
somewhere or have you reneged on your word?'

It
was the Praetor's turn to scowl at Dyson. 'I have seen Greyhawk
humiliated year after year since your establishment as Corporal with
its piss-poor portrayals of the war. You know as well as I do that
there is nobody out here worthy of the arenas that isn't already
fighting on the front. The idea that you'd send for me to enter this
thing as a contestant instead is both ludicrous and insulting.'

Dyson
shrugged, the gloves of diplomacy were coming off now. 'Seeing as how
you boys are getting pasted in your desert conflict and everyone
knows it I figured I'd borrow some of the local talent to see if it
couldn't do the same to the best and richest held in reserve.' He
pointed down the wall and the Praetor took an involuntary step back
at the lizard peering up on its haunches. 'See Praetor? Even now it
inspects us. Observe the eyes and tell me that there's nothing more
than beast in there.'

He
knew the Praetor could see the intelligence behind that gaze. That he
had seen the calculated efficiency behind its attempt to escape
instead of going for fresh meat first in spite of being half starved.

'Are
we truly safe up here, Corporal?'

Dyson
laughed at that. 'You can't even look at it, can you Praetor? All you
see is the cause of all your woes embodied in one scaly hide. Even
though you're as far from the action as can be these things will
still be your downfall.'

He
could see the Praetor was bristling at that and knew he had
overstepped a line in deflating this windbag. Dyson tried his hand at
the unfamiliar game of placation. 'There is no shame in fearing such
a creature, or struggling to maintain face in this terrible slaughter
that you call a conflict. Let the thing come down from Sah'kel and
show the people of Levanin what monsters your men really face.'

The
Praetor's eyes narrowed, as if considering it for a moment. 'Your
leanings are as crude as they are obvious. The sight of such a
creature devouring hardy warriors would spread panic amongst the
capital. All our work in minimizing the Sah'kel situation would be
undone.'

Dyson
nodded at this, he had expected such a response from a staunch
supporter of the cover up. 'The people know, Praetor. You know that
they know and damage limitation can only do so much. Did you know I
was once a smith before I got carted off here? They threw me out of
my own home for not helping your damned cover up. Everyone that works
on beating your metal back into shape knows. Their profession means
they understand that armour can't get like that unless something
monstrous is eating at it. There's too much of it coming back for
there to be any victory at Sah'kel. And too much knowledge of that
for the propaganda you spread to ever stick.'

The
Praetor sighed. 'You're never getting out of this hell, are you
Dyson?'

He
shook his head firmly. 'I'm stuck here the rest of my life, they'd
hunt me down even if I could escape.'

'Then
allow me to be honest with you, since it doesn't matter at this
point.'

Dyson
arched his eyebrows, this was unexpected.

'I
know Sah'kel is a disaster, yet perhaps if we show the people what
they've already suspected we could save face. There would be lots of
spin of course, but the idea that we were fighting the Negroids and
stumbled upon these monstrosities is a believable one.'

Dyson
couldn't help but stifle a chuckle. 'The senate in Lower Levanin
aren't going to buy that, what's so different about what you're
saying than the things people like me have already told you?'

The
Praetor waved a flustered hand at him as if he was missing the point.
Perhaps this wasn't all an act then. 'The difference is that you make
these lizard creatures out to be an unbeatable other. In an ideal
world we could expose that myth and find the resources to employ one
of our own to do so.'

Dyson's
hand swept over the arena floor to the corpses baking in the sun.
'You witnessed the death this thing can meter out even when
half-starved, they
are
an unbeatable other. Never have I seen
anyone or anything that could stand toe to toe with that monster for
a minute, let alone defeat it for the masses in some political
stunt.'

It
was the Praetor's turn to smile. 'You have lived a very limited life
Corporal, if these beasts of yours are the pinnacle of fighting
prowess. You have not been to the great arena of Levanin I take it?'

Dyson
shook his head incredulously, he had not. Only those that made it
through the regional circuit joined the finest in the capital.
'You're talking shit Praetor. Have you something in your precious
pampered Levanin that can take out one of these lizards? Not even a
fully grown Bull Urkata would last against such a predator. That is a
beast I have seen on numerous occasions.'

The
Praetor leaned back with his head resting on a second bench, eyes
closed as if in reminiscence. 'One of these lizards? You
misunderstand me Dyson, we have one in our number who could take out
all
of these lizards.'

Dyson
bristled with rage at the comment. 'You mean to tell me you're
fighting a bloody war and sending good men off to die when one
juiced-up superhuman would do the entire job?'

He
heard the Praetor sigh, as if he was a foolish child that had asked
an irritating and naïve question.

'Tell
me Dyson, if you had the power to dispatch an entire race by yourself
but had no inclination to do so, who could force you?'

He
got up from the bench now, looking him straight in the eye. 'I have
tried to convince the few I could find that are capable of such a
thing, none of them show any interest. I have pleaded and I have
begged until my throat is hoarse because it's my life at stake, not
some fucking farm boy covered in shit that's been dumped off into the
heat to die. I don't give a fuck about your innocents and your
casualties, all I want are results and so long as those lizard
bastards are out there this whole nightmare is going to continue
until we have no farm boys left to send. Then it's my head on a
pike.' He took a deep breath, allowing Dyson to recover somewhat from
this unexpected tirade. 'I can't send any of them to war so now I
have to deal in damage control. I need to convince the senate that
the people have heard the rumours, that they know something terrible
is happening in Sah'kel and no amount of cover up is going to prevent
it.' He looked out at the lizard now as it stared at them, almost as
if listening to their discourse. 'What I need is a spectacle,
something to show them just how dangerous Sah'kel is, without making
a lie of what the senate have implanted with the propaganda.'

He
smiled down at the lizard, as if making his mind up. 'None of the
most powerful bother with the arena any more, they may as well not
exist for all that it matters to me. Dyson, I need you to find me a
man that can kill this monster.'

Dyson
chuckled for a moment at the absurd request, then the laughter died
in his throat when the grief-striken face of the Praetor looked back
at him. The man was being absolutely serious about this impossible
task.

T
hom
was growing more than a little impatient at the latest summoning, yet
he also noted with some sense of satisfaction that they hadn't sent
the same messenger after his terrorising of the last one.

He
knew the gibbering idiot he left behind prior to entering the grand
chamber was a scapegoat for his frustrations. Then again he also knew
that bottling them up prior to yet another meeting with the
infuriatingly smug Kelgrimm was asking for trouble.

He
flung the doors wide open himself this time, there was no need for
announcements or proclamations of intent, the attendants all knew why
he was here and steered well clear of him.

'Ah,
Thom!' Kelgrimm greeted him, rising from his chair as if an old
friend were paying him an unexpected visit. 'I'm most gratified that
you could join us, we have a new participant in our agreement.' He
gestured to the wine rack at a rugged looking man with a patch over
his eye who seemed to be approaching him with yet more cups of wine.

'This
is Gadtor, formerly of the Black Quail. He has long been a thorn in
our side but the hypocrisy of his more recent insubordinate behaviour
has been exposed to him.'

Gadtor
offered Thom the cup with a deferential nod, Thom glared at him, he
had no time for all this formal crap. 'We've met. Does he speak or is
he just your new butler?'

He
watched a flicker of irritation pass plainly across the man's face,
Gadtor clearly didn't care for Thom's words and either wasn't afraid
to show it or had little grace when it came to diplomacy.

'I
am no butler and I can speak for myself,' the man responded in a
controlled baritone. 'So you're the latest owner of Skullcleaver, the
one that fought The Hermit. How in the blue hells are you still
standing?'

Thom
didn't smile. 'I won't discuss that.'

The
one-eyed man shrugged as if it were of no consequence. 'Seems the
three of you know who The Hermit is and I don't in spite of having
worked alongside him all these years. Now you come to me telling me
he was conspiring with that bastard Falarus and it seems very
believable.'He crossed over to the table and let his finger run
gently on the pommel of the dagger that pinned the map of Urial to
the surface. 'I know all the old Black Quail haunts, I can take you
through each but I'm telling you there's a reason I've never seen
anyone take down The Hermit, it sounds like you didn't either.'

Skullcleaver
came to rest gently at the man's throat, who seemed unphased by the
action. Thom felt the cool steel of a sword that wasn't Gadtor's
pressed up to his back in response.

'Gentlemen.'
Kelgrimm said, as if wearied by an inappropriate anecdote. 'We are
not here to bruise egos or carve each other to pieces. El-Vador,
remove your blade and I assure you our good friend Thom will do the
same.'

Thom
should have known the second he unleashed Skullcleaver that the thing
would have crept up from behind. He felt the light pressure on his
back ease and was thankful it hadn't drawn any blood. He withdrew
Skullcleaver and sheathed it with some reluctance, bowing temporarily
to the power of Kelgrimm's diplomacy.

Gadtor
had an amused smile on his face, Thom grinned back at him fiercely as
if sharing some kind of private joke. He liked a man who could smile
in such tight quarters, he clearly had guts and Thom knew that
Kelgrimm wouldn't hire an idiot.