Escana (66 page)

The
screams started to subside, dying down to a whisper of exhaled breath
as the man finally lost his voice, there was a strange look of primal
terror in his eyes. Like he had been spooked by something beyond
their comprehension.

Garth
ordered that a space be cleared and two beds brought, Thom's hand
frantically shot up and beckoned him come closer.

Garth
placed his ear to the man's mouth, Gadtor caught the words he was
whispering that he didn't want the men to hear.

'He is coming, we must flee.'

T
here
were no tears left to cry. For all their short-comings the members of
C-Company had checked his injuries and declared that nothing had been
broken. Jimmy had explained his fate to them, that this was the last
night in their company before reporting to Dyson to become his
personal assistant. The reaction he got from the others suggested
that it was most likely a death sentence.

'You'll
constantly be monitored in what you say and what you do, the
efficiency of how you go about each task and the deference you show
him in adhering to his principles. A single error is punishable by
death, we've seen it happen before.' Those were the words that
brought the most general consensus, they were also the ones that
Jimmy feared to hear the most.

None
of this made any sense to him, if his father had forced Dyson into
taking him as his new assistant for his own safety the job couldn't
possibly be dangerous, let alone life-threatening. Perhaps Dyson
would find other more subtle ways to punish him.

He
found he had little left to say to the men of C-Company when he was
finally ordered to leave, there were few well-wishers and he didn't
know the names of most of them. Greyhawk wasn't a place for making
friends as you never knew who you'd be fighting next. Jimmy felt
oddly thankful that Dyson hadn't shown the inclination to throw him
into the arena.

The
guard known as Jadil took him to his new quarters, a small room just
a corridor down from Dyson's office. It was nice to be able to have a
room by himself, even if it did look like a converted storage space.
At least now he wouldn't have to put up with the loud breathing and
fevered dreams of the wounded and aged.

The summons came shortly after,
the brief distance between his room and the office didn't seem so
appealing, he was standing in Dyson's office within a moment's
notice.

'So you're Harold Gooseman's son
then.'

It wasn't a question, Jimmy
stayed silent.

'You've left me with quite the
dilemma now and I dare not cross your father.' Jimmy waited for an
explanation as to why but none was forthcoming. 'Tell me boy, do you
like being fucked in the ass?'

He blinked, it was definitely a
question and he had no choice but to answer anything that was asked
of him. 'I don't no sir, I've never been fucked in the ass.'

Dyson sighed. 'That's what every
man in this fort will be thinking after they discover I've taken a
young boy as my assistant. Do you think I'm pleased by that
development, young boy?'

He shook his head vigorously. 'No
sir!'

From the look on Dyson's face,
his previous question hadn't been rhetorical and Jimmy's answer
didn't appease him. 'Have you a problem with men fucking each other
in the ass?'

Jimmy found himself trapped, his
mouth spoke for him before his panicked brain responded. 'No sir!'

Dyson smiled. 'Good, because in a
fort filled exclusively with men you'd soon discover that having a
problem with those proclivities isn't looked kindly upon.'

He rose from his seat, striding
out from behind the desk and right up into Jimmy's space. 'Would you
like me to fuck you in the ass, boy?'

He didn't know how to respond, if
he rejected these advances he knew he would be punished severely.
Something strange rose up in him then, it was as if he had felt
enough of fear and cowardice in this singular moment and was tired of
running from death. Ever since Thom had thrown his sword at him he
had been running, he was sick of it.

'No sir,' he gritted his teeth.
'I would not like you to fuck me in the ass.'

Dyson smiled again, an unnerving
expression on such a dangerous man. 'Spirited, I like that. I had you
pegged as a spineless worm!' He pushed his nose up right against
Jimmy's. 'What makes you think you have a choice?'

He felt like it was someone else
talking as he locked his eyes with the man and uttered his response.
'You can fuck my corpse if you want but that's all you'll get because
I'd sooner die than submit to a man like you.'

He laughed at that and took a
step back. 'Good, but don't push your luck.' He drew a thin blade
from his hip and pressed it to Jimmy's jugular. 'I take what I want,
you're just lucky I don't want you.'

Sheathing his blade, he walked
back over to the desk and seated himself as if nothing had happened.
'They say enough time in Greyhawk will drive any man to the comfort
of other men, it's so commonplace that now those who aren't seen
fucking someone else are deviants. It's a twisted world we live in
out here and one that I refuse to take part in.'

Jimmy nodded, not knowing if he
was meant to respond or not.

'For all intents and purposes you
are still a member of C-Company and will continue to train with them,
the only change will be your living quarters and your duties to me.
You will also be exempt from the arena battles as your father doesn't
want you killed.'

Why had he completely ignored him
then? A wave of shame washed through Jimmy, he had failed his father,
a man who was indeed of far greater stature than he had ever
imagined. Perhaps if he had diligently gone about his duties and
showed patience with the routine enforced upon him he may have found
out more about the man. That opportunity seemed gone now only after
he realised it had existed. He'd have given anything at that moment
to be back in The Chipped Flagon instead of captive to an insane
Corporal in a desert a world away.

There was a strange look in
Dyson's eyes. 'Your father means a great deal to you, doesn't he?'

Jimmy nodded. 'Yes sir.'

'You're wondering why he left you
here with me instead of taking you with the other one, aren't you?'

'Yes sir.'

There was something different
about Dyson's voice, it almost seemed gentle. 'Sometimes a parent
must let a child go in order to teach a final lesson.'

Jimmy felt this was scant
justification for leaving him here to die, he didn't dare voice such
an opinion.

'Perhaps he will return for you
in due course, I wouldn't bet on it.'

Just like that, Dyson's old voice
had returned, his expression hardened and his eyes filled with anger
as if furious at Jimmy for witnessing a brief glimpse of his
humanity.

'Jadil will inform you of your
duties for the day, get out of my sight.'

He left the room feeling no more
certain of his life than before, he wondered just how long such a
volatile man could hold to his word before painting the walls with
Jimmy's blood.

G
arth woke to
the sound of screams in the dead of night. He had been sleeping
fitfully ever since Thom's collapse and stumbled groggily about in
the darkness. It had been a long time since he had seen his friend in
such pain and after their unexpected reunion it came as a body blow.

These screams were different,
they came from a multitude of voices as if from a great distance.

Shoving his tent flap open, he
called for the nearby guard and demanded to know what was going on in
the camp. The man scurried off dutifully, Garth had his closest men
well-drilled now.

The command tent was situated
deepest in the canyon but the rock walls seemed to do little to
muffle the sound outside, the screams were growing closer by the
minute.

The young boy, Inglewood, ran up
to him then, breathless and with a look of fear plain on his face.
'The lizards are attacking the camp!'

Garth picked up his axe and bid
the boy drag his armour over, he never kept it far from his person
for fear of moments like this.

As it was strapped back onto him
he was overcome with a wave of memory. He had been here before. The
screaming and the adrenaline mingling freely with his fear, it had
been a long time since the massacre but it stayed with him fresh in
his mind.

'Stay close to me,' he said to
the boy, watching him heft his shortsword uncertainly. Garth knew
that it wouldn't do much good against the lizard creatures if they
had planned this full-frontal assault in advance and broken through
the outer palisade already.

He leapt forward in a blur,
bellowing to anyone who would listen to form up behind him for a
counter-attack. Those who weren't paralysed with fear or pointlessly
running the other way had already fitted their weapons and were ready
to fight.

The cold clarity came upon him
once again, he was most likely going to die. He had watched his own
commander torn apart as he had led the counter to the night massacre,
he was under no illusions that this was his place now.

A ringing in his ears seemed to
block out the sounds of the battlefield as he charged on with a roar,
where were the opposition? Where were these monsters that dared to
trespass upon his camp, his people, his domain?

It was then he sighted them, huge
scaled nightmares seething forth between the canyon walls, crushing
tents and men alike in their rush forward, there were so many of them
travelling over the sand faster than any steed could muster on grass.

He looked back at the scant
gathering of soldiers and in their eyes he saw that truth once again,
it was a hopeless venture to stand in defiance of the scaled tide.

Turning back forward to face
death, Garth hefted his axe high in the air and bellowed the charge.

He launched himself out, sending
sprays of sand in his wake and breaking into a sprint. There was no
looking back to see if his men were falling in with him or fleeing
upon sight of their demise. There was nothing else for Garth but that
piercing moment of clarity: kill or be killed. All his problems and
concerns melted away into impermanence when faced with that one
primal statement of intent.

He sighted his target, gripping
the haft of his war axe with grim intent, it was the largest lizard
on the front line and the forerunner of the attack. He raised his
weapon and leapt straight at it, allowing the lizard's motion to
devour any remaining distance between them. It paid him no heed,
seemingly wanting to push past and into the thin remnant of those
following.

He came crashing down on the
creature's neck and it let out a cry of bewilderment that something
would have the temerity to attack it. Stumbling under the sudden
impact, it went down not under Garth's trampling but the legs of the
many lizards that followed.

He looked up, they were not
avoiding their fallen comrade in their forward surge, a stray leg
caught Garth on the arm and the axe spun out of his grip. He steadied
himself only in time to see a second pair of legs thundering over the
clouds of sand. They ploughed over him as if he were a minor obstacle
to be used as leverage. He felt his breastplate crack as he was
pushed into the sand, at least what he hoped was his breastplate.
Everything seemed vague and inconsistent, something kept tugging at
him, as if to alert his groggy mind. The tugging became stronger,
more substantial and penetrating in its insistence. He had to move,
he had to get up and move his legs, legs that he could no longer
feel. He tried to rise but found himself sinking back down into the
sand.

Sah'kel, he was in Sah'kel again.
The commander had been killed, tossed into the air in a manner that
would have been comic were it not horrifying. He had heard the snap
of his spine cutting off the sound of his scream, he was on his own
out in the desert. Why had they killed them all yet spared him?

He stared up at the night sky,
the stars were out in force and seemed to shift hazily in front of
his vision, as if they were a curtain behind which the light shone.

That damn tugging again, it was
on his left arm, he tried to fight it but felt nothing but limpness.

He stared at his arm then, it was
a pair of hands clasping it and tugging ferociously. His muffled
hearing started to clear, there was a voice calling him amidst the
dull thunder of scaled feet pounding the sand.

'General Garth we have to move
sir! Please sir, we must make it to the canyon wall!'

Inglewood. That was the boy's
name, with eyes like his father.

He stared at the wall beyond
them, between the flashing bodies of the lizards he caught glimpses
of men gathered there.

The images faded in a flurry of
sand and Garth felt nothing more.

A
s he woke
with a start, the screams were followed by a frantic pulling upon his
leg. He had learned long ago to wake at an instant and was fully
aware of Thom trying to rise, they leapt to their feet with
surprising coordination and limped out of the tent to see if they
could spot the commotion.