Escana (60 page)

Thom idly wondered if the
front-line these days was more lax with regards to murdering fellow
soldiers. Now that he had Skullcleaver in hand he could rid himself
of Gadtor and start to work on the block, assuming he didn't get
killed tomorrow.

He looked around at the men
surrounding the fire pit, most of them were far too young to be
involved in such a sustained conflict, while a number of them
suffered from the opposite problem.

The sky seemed a deep red to his
weary eyes, he had seen so much blood staining the sands of these
endless deserts, now all that remained was to bury himself within
them.

J
akob sat in
the whiteness, waiting impatiently for the stranger to show himself.
He had never spent this long in what he had jokingly started to
consider purgatory and the fact that he was left with nothing but his
thoughts unnerved him.

His last memories were of
Sah'kel, how his namesake had discovered that after all the trials to
get here those who rose to A-Company had it much easier than their
counterparts. The sparring sessions weren't compulsory and nobody
troubled him, his bed was relatively clean and he had space to
himself. If anything the quality of living here was better than any
he'd previously experienced. A distinct lack of Thom made that a
certainty. He had written it that way, hadn't he? He had drafted the
document a thousand times and knew that this was how the story panned
out.

The bearded one, Yalem had come
for him one day, brusquely saying that Dyson wanted to see him. Then
everything had dissipated and there was no further recollection
beyond this wall of whiteness before his eyes.

The stranger appeared long after
Jakob's thoughts had lapsed into silence, he wore an easy smile under
his scruffy beard and walked with a spring in his step.

'Why am I here again?' Jakob
asked, further irritated by the man's jauntiness.

'You were brought here because
certain matters needed to be addressed personally.'

Jakob sighed. 'The interview with
Dyson, I remember it well.'

'Yes, that storied chapter
required a very specific action in order to place fear within the
man, it was not something I could have poked and prodded you into
performing as you still don't have enough control over the
character.'

Jakob placed his head in his
hands. 'I have felt my control increase, as if I'm no longer a
spectator. It also seems to happen most when you exert your influence
over matters. Why not allow me to take the reigns during the
interview? I knew what was meant to happen to the very word, it was
already written by my own hand.'

The stranger didn't answer, that
was when it dawned on Jakob.

'You're afraid. I can see it in
your eyes. You think I'm going to subvert my own plot and sacrifice
my own life simply to prevent the story being told.'

The stranger nodded. 'You are
correct about my concern over your potential subversion if nothing
else. This tale has barely just begun and already you are showing
signs of wanting to derail it from its chosen course. We cannot allow
this to happen.'

Jakob tapped his temple, a manic
gleam coming into his eyes. 'We? Who are 'we'? You're certainly not
referring to you and me.' He walked closer to him then, staring up
and down at him. 'There's only you here, there are no other that I
can see. Who is 'we'? What group of people do you represent?'

The stranger frowned at him. 'You
are mistaken, there is no group of people, I was referring to us.
Together we shall spin this tale and in time make you one with the
character. In this brief interlude, Dyson has discovered that Yalem
is unaffected by your powers. You're also about to get your first
taste of an arena battle as a member of A-Company, you will call upon
your power once more and gain a greater measure of control than
before. I will no longer intervene so long as you stick with the
narrative.'

'Who are you?'

The world went white and Jakob
knew no more.

J
akob woke
with a splitting headache and no recollection of how he got back to
his room from the conversation with Dyson. Rubbing his temples, he
tried to focus but the thoughts kept slipping away. He remembered
following Dyson down the corridors, had the man blind-sided him? What
purpose would that serve if he was rendered unconscious when required
to speak?

He had never suffered amnesia
before and the thought that somehow the pains in his head were linked
to the memory loss frightened him. He had heard of hale men laid low
and reduced to gibbering shadows that knew not who they were any more
from a simple headache that progressed into something much worse.

A knock came at his door, which
he found had been both firmly closed and bolted from the inside,
something else he had no recollection of. Clearly he hadn't been
knocked unconscious. He looked around the room briefly. No, there was
nobody else here who could have locked it, it must have been him.

'You're wanted in the arena for a
fight,' Tub's muffled voice said from the other side of the door.
'Get down to the weapons room and make your choice.'

He heard the boots scuttle off at
a great pace, for some reason the small man was intimidated by him.
Had he become aware of the manipulation involved in placing Jakob in
A-Company? Had he told Dyson about how he had been controlled into
doing so against his will?

He swung his legs off the bed,
whatever was causing the headache had started to recede. Jakob had
hoped that members of A-Company were exonerated from arena combat. He
guessed not.

Making his way down to the bowels
of the arena should have been tricky with all the walls looking the
same. Jakob's memory served him well though as he recalled every
twist and turn of these corridors.

Tub did his absolute best to
ignore him as he entered the weapon room, no insults or goading or
anything that he'd usually subject people within listening distance
to. Jakob was beginning to think Dyson had him competing in the arena
just to see how powerful he truly was, that power had arrived when
necessitated but could he summon it at will for a bout in the arena?

He picked up a short sword and
pretended to test its balance, not knowing what he was doing or
whether he was doing it right.

'Who am I up against?' he asked
the squat little man.

Tub had no choice but to pay
attention to him now. 'You'll see,' he said simply, somehow keeping
the usual mocking tone out of his voice and sounding strange for
doing so.

Jakob made his way to the arena
floor quickly, a nervousness stealing over him as he pondered who his
opponent might be.

They walked in silence down the
corridor together and up the flight of steps leading to the arena
floor, Tub still trying his best to hide how intimidated he felt.

As soon as the sun kissed their
faces, Jakob noticed that Tub had distanced himself with all haste.
The man seemed awfully superstitious, perhaps he was waiting for
lightning bolts to fly out of Jakob's hands if he was ired.

Staring across the sands, Jakob's
amusement died as he realised who it was he was facing.

Yalem stood stock-still in a
position of what Jakob could only assume was readiness, his face was
as impassive as The Hermit's had been before. He sincerely hoped that
they weren't akin in their skill, he didn't want to get humiliated
too badly after tasting the luxury of A-Company in comparison to the
rest.

'The following contest is a fight
to the death,' Tub yelled out to the crowd, more confident now that
he was in the open and in the presence of Yalem. 'May the strongest
survive!'

Jakob did a double take, a fight
to the death? Why was their bout any different than the one between
the foreign man and The Hermit?

He had no further time to think,
Yalem was advancing with some speed toward him, looking to make this
quick.

Close
your eyes, extend your thoughts outward.

Jakob felt a surge of hope, the
voice had returned. He dutifully closed his eyes, hoping he had
enough time to listen.

This
one is immune to your mind, you must use the world against him. Push
outward with your thought.

Jakob pushed, it came to him like
second nature. He felt a strong resistance and strained against it
with all his will.

No, do not force it. Your mind
is like water, let it flow outward and he will have no more power
over it than he does the tides.

Was it Jakob's imagination or was
the darkness lightening? He eased the pressure on his mind, letting
the thoughts culminate naturally into a barrier of sorts. It didn't
halt the force but certainly slowed it to a great degree.

Good, now you have time to
learn, there is much I must teach you.

I
n spite of
it being a rare moment of freedom, Jimmy wasn't looking forward to
watching the latest bout. If rumours were correct (and in C-Company
they usually were), the next competitor would be 'the silent
dark-haired boy' and he would be squaring off against Dyson's
personal bodyguard Yalem.

Jimmy was under no illusions that
there was only one person in the considerably thin ranks of A-Company
that matched that description. Even if there was more than one he had
also heard him referred to as the new boy and had been asked a number
of times if he knew how such a slight figure had made his way into
A-Company.

Now he was stood in the arena,
watching below as Yalem came out to a number of cheers from the guard
and even some of A-Company. The man didn't wave at the crowd or
acknowledge any of the clamour surrounding him, he bore a large
greatsword that looked suspiciously sharper than the rusty relics he
had seen used in other bouts. Why was he equipped with such a lethal
weapon for a simple arena bout?

He had heard talk of fights to
the death in the Levanin arena, the regional ones frowned on such a
practice as anyone who had survived the cage had the potential to be
a good warrior. Then again, he had also heard that Dyson had poisoned
almost an entire cage of new recruits not that long ago, perhaps he
ran things differently here.

Jimmy groaned as Tub entered the
arena with Jakob following some distance behind him. The short sword
he had been dealt was clearly in a bad state of disrepair and from
the way he was holding it Jimmy guessed that Thom had never taught
him anything.

He watched as the grubby little
man cleared his throat, it was customary for him to bellow out the
terms and conditions of the fight as every arena had its announcer.
The fact that the terms and conditions never changed didn't dissuade
him from shouting them for all to hear, he seemed to take great pride
in his mindless work.

He blinked, something was
different about the reaction from the crowd. They weren't ordinarily
this intrigued by a fight, the old man next to him nudged him on the
shoulder with a bony elbow. 'A fight to the death, been a long time
since I seen one of those young lad. You should be excited, we're in
for a real treat.'

A fight to the death.

He stifled a shout, then
uncharacteristically decided to think things through. His first
intention was to try and find his way to the arena floor to stop this
from happening, the surprisingly firm grasp on his shoulder from the
old man seemed to indicate that he had expected that reaction. No,
there was nothing he could do for his friend right now, except hope
that Jakob got lucky.

He heard Tub give the go-ahead
and felt sick as Yalem moved forward with some purpose in his stride.
His hope for Jakob evaporated.

He felt a strange tightness at
the back of his head, as if it was caught in some kind of vice from
the inside. Trying to shake off the feeling, he concentrated on the
fate of his friend.

For some reason Dyson's bodyguard
had slowed, was this a standard offensive strategy? Jakob was still
well out of reach of the man, was Yalem reconsidering his strategy or
waiting for his opponent to advance in turn?

He looked over at Jakob then and
couldn't believe what he was seeing, his friend had closed his eyes
as if resigned to his fate. His guard was down, the sword limp by his
side and immobile like the rest of his body. Why was he waiting for
execution? Would he not even put up a fight?

A shiver passed down Jimmy's
spine, he was about to watch his friend get murdered and there was
nothing he could do about it. He looked frantically around the crowd
for The Hermit, he was sat at the far end watching events
impassively. Was he not going to do anything either?

Jimmy rushed over, causing one of
the guards to step in his way. Apparently the man thought he was
trouble.

'What do you want, runt?' the
guard asked, spear at the ready.

'I need to speak to that man over
there, now!' Jimmy pleaded, hoping his desperation would elicit the
tiniest amount of leniency.