Escana (59 page)

The lizard leapt up to its feet,
somehow it had crept over to the foreigner and clamped its jaws
around him without anyone noticing. Jimmy held no love for the
intimidating man but he wouldn't wish this barbarity upon him.

Tensing its hind legs once more,
the lizard vaulted onto the remnants of the door propped up against
the arena wall. Surely it wasn't thinking of escape?

A second massive leap sent it
crashing into the stands, sending spectators screaming and running in
both directions to avoid the lashings of its tail. Dyson could just
be heard over the uproar calling for the guards to subdue it.

Jimmy froze in panic, finding
himself completely unable to do anything. Mercifully the lizard was
at the far end of the arena, it launched itself and vanished from
view.

After the action had died down,
C-Company were given their marching orders and Jimmy trudged back to
the small room with a strange mixture of relief and regret. He had
caught glimpses of Jakob on the other side of the arena, though his
eyes had mostly been on The Hermit. Now that he knew that both were
alive and well and living inside these very walls, returning with
C-Company felt even lonelier in its isolation. At least he wouldn't
have to deal with the foreigner any more, he shuddered at the thought
of the lizard devouring him in the dunes.

He settled down into his corner
of the room, C-Company didn't seem as territorial as those in the
cage and there was no challenge with regards to personal space. Then
again none of them seemed capable of putting up much of a fight even
with the conspicuous absence of the overbearing foreigner. He had
never even known the man's name, now he was dead. The worries he had
harboured over having to spend the night at the man's mercy vanished,
though the image of the lizard leaping away with his body in its jaws
stayed with him. He felt like he wouldn't sleep again.

The door opened once again and a
bearded man filled the frame, staring down at the remnants of
C-Company as if he'd trod on something disgusting. In response they
refused to look at him out of fear, one that seemed well practised as
if from experience. Jimmy's heart started pumping faster when he
realised that the man was staring right at him.

'You,' he said, not bothering to
point and assuming his stares were enough. 'With me.'

On that the man turned and
marched out of the doorway, not waiting to see if Jimmy was planning
on following him or not. Apparently that was a foregone conclusion
and one that Jimmy wasn't going to contest. The door slammed shut and
was locked again, there was no wariness about this man. He seemed to
believe that Jimmy was no threat whatsoever, another absolutely
correct assumption.

Jimmy cursed himself, what would
the likes of Jakob or The Hermit or Gadtor or even Thom have done in
this situation? They'd have disarmed the guard, freed C-Company and
somehow led a revolution before escaping into the desert. He kept
that image in mind as he bitterly reprimanded his own weakness, he
knew so many powerful and accomplished men and compared to them he
was nothing. He couldn't imagine what they must think of him in turn,
a snivelling and irritating youth that they must tow around under
some moral obligation.

So wrapped up was he in his
new-found self-loathing that Jimmy had completely forgotten fear, it
was as if his anger and frustration had driven it away for now. The
guard escorting him made no attempt at conversation and that only
encouraged his self-recrimination further.

They wound their way through a
maze of corridors that all seemed the same and eventually stopped
outside a door that looked just like any other.

The guard gave it a distinctive
knock, clearly a code of some sort and the resulting muffled voice
inside bid them enter.

The expensive-looking rug laid
out on the floor as he entered indicated that this could only be one
person. Corporal Dyson was sat at a large desk filled with stacks of
paper. Jimmy had never seen so much paper in one place before. Why
would the man need it out here in the desert?

'A source has informed me that
you are the acquaintance of the two newest members in A-Company.'

The man had to be talking about
The Hermit and Jakob. Jimmy frowned, he thought Jakob was in
B-Company. He found it hard to believe that promotion was that fast,
what did he do to earn it?

'Respond any slower and I'll cut
your balls off with a carving knife.'

Jimmy gulped, very much in the
here and now. This man didn't ask questions, he made statements and
demanded responses to them.

'Yes sir, I know the two members
you speak of.'

Dyson formed a steeple with his
fingers. 'Very well. Now that we have established this, inform me how
it is that your cloaked friend bested the lizard in the arena today.'

The fear was back, Jimmy had to
think fast now or face the consequences. Dyson didn't look like a man
who made idle threats.

'I haven't known The Hermit long
enough to determine where his prowess in combat comes from.'

Dyson looked over Jimmy's
shoulder. 'Is he full of shit, Yalem?'

Silence. Jimmy dared not look
back.

'Very well then. Tell me how you
met him instead.'

The piercing gaze settled upon
Jimmy as he detailed the last few weeks of his acquaintance with The
Hermit. Dyson's eyebrows raised at the mention of the Black Quail's
goals, though he seemed to have little recognition for the name of
Kelgrimm or any other officials he mentioned in his tale. Jimmy could
only assume that this man hadn't visited the Urian peninsula. It was
a painful reminder of just how far away he was from the simple life
he had led in Escana.

'I can't picture you being much
use in a rebellion if you're in C-Company,' the Corporal said after a
time, clearly musing over every morsel of information that had just
been provided. 'I also don't understand why a combatant of his
ability would waste his time with guerilla warfare. If a giant lizard
could not subdue him and the journey here left him unharmed then the
Urian guard wouldn't stand a chance. This poses more questions than
answers, I don't like unanswered questions.'

Jimmy flinched at the rising
irritation in the man's voice, there was no doubting who he would
take his anger out on should he be pushed too far.

'Tell me everything you know
about your second companion.'

For the second time in the
conversation, Jimmy felt painfully aware of the man's discerning gaze
as he detailed everything he knew about Jakob, including his murder
of Solomon. If Dyson was to consult with Yalem and found he had lied
or hidden anything from him now he knew it would end badly.

Dyson stared at him for a long
time after he finished detailing their journey in the cage together
and lapsed into silence. Jimmy kept wondering if he had omitted any
important detail, going over and over what he had said in his mind
and looking for any possible missing recollection that would stop
this man from killing him where he stood.

'Your words are honest, I do not
kill honest men in cold blood. Your companions must care about you
deeply to have let you survive this long.'

Jimmy felt a knife touch the back
of his neck, he didn't dare to move.

'You are now my property and my
insurance. You will go where I go and your friends will see that I am
entirely in control of your well-being. Should they cause me any
inconvenience your life will be forfeit.'

Jimmy didn't dare to nod.

'You will now be taken to
A-Company's rooms and explain what I have just told you to both your
companions. After this you will return with Yalem to my quarters and
remain there for the duration of your stay.'

Dyson busied himself with the
papers once again, apparently their discussion was concluded. Yalem
removed the knife from Jimmy's neck and escorted him out the door
toward A-Company.

Jimmy didn't need the cold kiss
of steel to be reminded that his death was drawing closer with each
passing moment he remained trapped here.

T
he box was
one of the more unpleasant moments of his life thus far. Since being
crammed into a prison with no room for one let alone two people to
survive in his disposition had soured. He was growing increasingly
frustrated as they got closer to their demise, and as the sweltering
heat cooked them he was finding it much harder to tolerate Gadtor.
The last thing he needed in this box was a corpse for company.

His companion had mercifully
lapsed into silence since his fruitless inquisitions about Thom's
past. Murder would have played on his mind much more had the probing
continued.

He could tell they were growing
closer to Sah'kel with each brief exit from the box, the green had
given way to brown and then the sucking pull of a warp gate had them
meet a wall of heat. They had been in the desert for three days now
by his reckoning and conditions were rapidly deteriorating.

Occasionally they would catch
snippets of noise coming from the attached caravan. This only
happened when the occupants were pressed up close to the far wall,
which had been seldom up until now. Every night they could hear the
sounds of sobbing from a volunteer who was clearly coming to terms
with the reality that he'd been duped.

Thom had no sympathy for him,
anyone stupid enough to buy the illusions of war that the recruiters
span out deserved to have them dispelled by the desert. War was blood
and fear and a lot of waiting, nothing glamorous about it.

They ground to another halt
shortly before sundown, though Thom didn't see much use for their
piss break other than to stretch their legs. He was parched and water
was seemingly in short supply on the caravan, being in the box meant
they'd get the dregs of whatever was being shared around since
arriving in the desert.

When they finally deigned to let
him out of the box, he was greeted with the bustle and activity of a
great mass of human flesh. They had arrived then.

A sea of tents stretched out into
the canyon, sheltered for the most part from the dying rays of the
evening sun as well as the worst of the chill night winds. So this
was the front line these days.

A scream caused them both to jerk
their heads to the left, someone was cauterising a stump with a
brand. It was then, as Thom surveyed the rest of the tents in the
fading light, that he realised just how many of these men were
walking wounded. The soldiers sitting nearby paid no attention to the
screams or the smell of cooking flesh, it seemed that this was a
regular occurrence now. That was an ill omen as in his experience it
meant they were one step away from defeat altogether.

A guard approached them as they
made their way toward the line of new recruits forming outside the
caravan. 'A mutual friend bid you have these. He expressed that if
you were to die then you should do so with your own blades firmly in
your grasp.'

The guard held out Skullcleaver
and another sword that presumably belonged to Gadtor. The pitying
look that he gave them filled Thom with fury.

He snatched his sword from the
man with haste, livid that another hand dare touch it. The guard
didn't seem surprised at his reaction, quickly passing Gadtor his
blade and wandering off shaking his head.

There was no ceremony about their
arrival, they were simply given weapons and told to find a place in
the camp. Now that Thom had Skullcleaver again he wasn't going to
release it until death parted them, it was like an extension of his
frame and he had felt naked without it throughout their long journey.

Gadtor surveyed the vast number
of tents with a low whistle. 'Any preference?'

'They all look like shit to me.
Pick one and be done with it.'

Thom accommodated Gadtor's
movement as they weakly hobbled their way toward a tent that didn't
smell of burnt flesh quite as much as the others. He didn't like what
the smell of cooked meat was doing to his stomach, hunger gave him
strange cravings.

They got a few odd looks as they
settled down beside a fire pit, the men next to them wordlessly
handed them a piece of meat each before they both returned to their
staring match with the embers.

A younger looking man decided he
was going to come up to them, curiosity clearly etched on his face.

'You're the men from the box,' he
stated to them both, waiting for a response.

'No shit,' Thom obliged.

'Why have you got that thing
around your legs?'

'Why have you got such a fucking
mouth on you? Thom replied, growing weary of the conversation.

Gadtor chose to intervene at that
point for some inexplicable reason. 'We did some very bad things to
some very powerful people, now we've been sent here to die. Any more
questions?'

Thom shut his eyes and paid no
further heed to it. Let the kid talk to the idiot with the eye patch,
see if they can irritate each other to death.

The boy's voice seemed to cut
through him, if he wasn't attached to Gadtor he'd have leapt up and
throttled it by now. Instead he had to listen as the idiot man
explained in great detail how they ended up with this stupid fucking
manacle block in the first place.