Escana (65 page)

The shadows seemed to lengthen in
the flickering candlelight, if there was someone out there who could
wound El-Vador, what was stopping him from breaching Upper Levanin?

'No, he will not pursue me. You
cannot attack him, you defend and run but you cannot attack.'

'You're keeping me out, why won't
you tell me about him?' Ella asked, frustration beginning to grow at
his vague answers to her questions. She mentally chastised herself
for even asking him questions in the first place, what right had she
to know of the truth as he lay bleeding there?

'I am sworn.' El-Vador replied.
'To an oath I cannot break.' He looked up at her face, raising a
bloodied hand and cupping her chin. 'Do not worry, I will be well in
the morning.'

They lay silently for a time
then, Ella listening carefully to his breathing and wondering whether
he was trying to reassure her or if he was telling her the truth.

After a time he spoke again, his
voice somewhat stronger than before. 'There is something else I have
kept from you that I must tell you.'

She listened closely, not
stirring least she disrupt his chain of thought.

'You asked me why I wouldn't tell
you my reasons for having brought you here, why you of all people
were selected to accompany me.'

She nodded silently.

'I do not know how or why, but
you are a kindred soul. One such as I have not seen in many years.'

That was it? That was the reason
he'd been keeping secret all this time?

'Thank you,' she said quietly,
knowing that voicing her disappointment now would be dangerous.

'You do not understand, Ella. I
will try and make it as clear as I can. I am Elven, you are a kindred
soul. You are also Elven, Ella. I do not know how.'

Time froze. She was conscious of
lying in the bed, she even remembered rising to the side of it and
watching her feet idly dangle off the edge. She didn't remember what
she said next.

'No, you cannot be.'

She blinked. 'What do you mean?'

El-Vador remained silent, Ella
sensed that she had missed something vital. She had never heard him
speak with greater regret, it seemed to span ages when uttered from
his lips.

It was strange, lying there in
bed next to a creature of impossible power that had by chance
encountered another power even beyond that. It didn't feel wrong. She
should have been overwhelmed by the possibility that such a godhead
could exist, she should have been blown away by the revelation of her
lack of humanity. The latter made sense to her, she was always
distant and different from the Escana populace without having any
explanation as to why.

As for the power of El-Vador, she
had always conceived of such force through the reading of his
travels, she had already believed such a thing was possible even if
it wasn't apparent in every day life.

In the midst of all her worries
and concerns over El-Vador, the thought of her own identity sounded
within her. She was Elven.

H
e
watched the back of the older man's head as the murderous tendencies
rose in him once more. There was something just short of a voice
screaming at him to do away with Gooseman, in spite of him being his
only way out of Sah'kel short of death. Was this an opportunity he
was meant to take? If so, why did the incessant feeling that he must
do away with the man persist so counter-intuitively to the potential
suggestion?

They
walked unopposed through the corridors of the fort, the guards that
they did meet showed a surprising amount of deference to Gooseman.
What was this man doing here in the first place?

He
had long suspected that the simple innkeeper was nothing but a weak
façade, the seemingly irrational feelings that he had stirred
in him upon their meeting hinted at that. It was only now that he
truly realised what the insistent feelings implied, they were the
will of the stranger guiding his hand. It was a direction that he had
to follow.

His
head ached once again at the thoughts he wasn't supposed to ruminate
on. He had grown accustomed to having his mind forced in certain
directions these days, residing in A-Company gave him plenty of time
to think.

They
crossed the floor to where the exit gate stood, this was one area of
the fort that Dyson had given up on keeping clear of the desert
sands.

'We
will be travelling through a warp gate,' Gooseman finally said. 'The
sensation will not be pleasant, I suggest you brace yourself.'

Jakob
felt a tightening in his head as the small door embedded in the gate
swung open, they stepped out into the open desert but the feeling
persisted. Was this the start of the warp gate that Gooseman spoke
of? What was a warp gate in the first place?

It
started to intensify, his temples beginning to feel squeezed as if in
some invisible vice. Gooseman rubbed at the sides of his head in
irritation or ritual, Jakob wasn't sure which.

A
thunderclap echoed around the desert, yet the faint wisps of cloud
that he saw couldn't have made that noise.

The
pressure developed into a mild stinging sensation, he refused to ask
this strange man what he was doing to him as he knew he wouldn't get
an answer. The urge to kill him and end this vied with his knowledge
that doing so would leave him trapped in Greyhawk for the rest of his
life.

'I
know what you're thinking,' Gooseman said between clenched teeth. 'I
assure you, this is not my doing. Now hurry closer to me, we need to
leave this place before it gets any worse.'

Jakob
had no idea what the man was talking about and frankly didn't trust
his assurances in the slightest, he did as he was bid though in the
hopes that it would somehow ease the suffering.

'We
are too late.' Gooseman whispered, seemingly to himself.

A
tearing noise rent the air ahead of them and hit them with the force
of a gale, Gooseman staggered and Jakob was driven to his knees. The
screaming in his head collapsed his every thought, he felt like each
part of his brain was being cooked and squashed with relentless
pressure.

A
small dot of white light appeared ahead of them, there was no rushing
of air or sound made from the desert. It was all inside his own mind,
which appeared to be flipping over and over in his skull in some
desperate attempt to avoid the pain ravaging it.

The
white light widened as Gooseman staggered back, still somehow on his
feet despite the intentions of the mind storm. It grew to the size of
a man, then Gooseman signalled at Jakob to walk toward it.

Jakob
didn't see much choice, it was either go into the light and suffer
whatever machinations this man had in store or stay here and weather
a storm that would undoubtedly render him a drooling invalid. He
stepped forward past Gooseman and into the light.

He
found that he had stumbled onto a boat, it rocked dangerously under
his footing. He looked down and immediately regretted it.

He
was teetering on the end of some vast stone structure suspending him
high above the surrounding green of the land. He lurched back and
fell into the boat, heart in mouth as it stopped rocking at his
motion.

The
sky was clouded and dark, the land below him seemed green and
fertile. Where was he?

A
splitting headache took him then, this time his thoughts refused to
banish themselves. He felt like something was hatching inside his
head and clawing away at the mind he once had. Nothing seemed to be
provoking the pain that tore his skull apart, he closed his eyes but
couldn't seem to will it away. What was he doing? What was he
thinking wrong that it attacked him in such a vigorous manner?

Blackness
swam over his vision and he knew no more.

I
n
spite of his claimed rank, or possibly because he only claimed to be
a General, the soldiers made them limp all the way to the command
tent. It wasn't much bigger than the squad tents but had the flag of
the Imperium outside. Gadtor wondered what strange mixture of
patriotism and stubborn idiocy had them plant a flag in a place with
no wind during the day. The limp banner seemed to mirror the mood in
the camp, and if Thom was to be believed it also reflected their
chances in the upcoming war.

In
spite of the shade of the huge canyon walls the air was still dry and
close, the extended effort of dragging their way there made Gadtor
feel as if he was suffocating. It had been Thom they had really
wanted, he was a mere grunt, an extra body to be discarded. Should
these claims of rank ring true, he wondered how they'd deal with his
position as the extraneous soldier attached.

The
mat outside spoke of pointless formality, they rubbed the soles of
their feet on it as best they could, though they seemed to have more
sand as they tramped in than prior to the effort.

'Well
fuck me sideways!' Thom exclaimed upon entry. 'It's the mighty
General Garth come to rule over us!'

The
huge man cracked a wide grin under his bushy beard, apparently the
General of the army was acquainted with Thom.

'Do
you really have to start up that old tune again Thom? I thought you
swore I'd never have to hear that again?'

The
guards around him visibly relaxed at this show of camaraderie, though
Gadtor couldn't help but wonder how this altered the command
structure.

'I'm
still bitter at you taking charge last time! I clearly outrank you,
yet here you are once again with your maps and your tacticians
plotting to get me a nasty fucking sunburn!'

The
General had moved as if to embrace the man, but had stopped short
upon finally laying eyes on their imprisonment.

'What's
this? Some kind of manacle? I warned you not to go charging off but
it looks like you've picked up more trouble on the way. Who's this?'

Thom's
smile lessened, Gadtor couldn't blame him as for once he knew exactly
what the man was thinking about as he replied. 'I ran into our old
friend from the bridge, he had this put on me and shipped off to
Sah'kel for displeasing Justice Kelgrimm. This man is Gadtor, he was
helping with the investigation.'

The
method of introduction surprised Gadtor, he was expecting something
more cutting and derogatory but it never came. General Garth had now
turned his full attention upon him.

'Do
you hold a rank, Gadtor?'

He
shook his head. 'I'm not a military man sir, prior to encountering
your friend from the bridge I was a freedom fighter on the streets of
Urial.'

Garth's
expression darkened at mention of that, Gadtor wasn't expecting his
cause to be looked on with anything but contempt by a military man.

He
had thought it was all for nothing, that the very foundation of what
he believed had been invalidated by Falarus's betrayal. He had been
wrong and found that those same principles he held before were still
true in his mind. Not that it mattered where a man came from or what
he believed in Sah'kel. So long as he could wield a weapon and attack
when ordered.

'So
what say we try and get this manacle off you then, General?'

Thom
was still smiling. 'I'd say that's an excellent idea, General.'

Gadtor
felt even less certain about his future, as soon as they got rid of
the shackles that bound them he would be surplus to requirements and
sent back to the front line. Gadtor didn't want to think about what
they might do if they couldn't separate them from the block.

The
boy spoke then, and to Gadtor's surprise nobody moved to silence him.
'General Garth sir, if you don't mind me asking. If General Thom
outranks you, does that mean he has to take charge of the army?'

Garth
smiled. 'It's an old joke, Inglewood. Thom's rank was an honorary one
bestowed upon him for his valour. My rank was earned through
experience. He technically outranks me but in terms of military
experience he's somewhat... lacking.'

Thom
glared at him, it was good humoured though. Gadtor was amazed at how
seeing this second General had changed Thom completely, he knew
better than to try and join in the repartee.

There
was a strange sound then, like a thunderclap overhead but without the
clouds. Gadtor found himself pitching forward onto the tent floor,
what was going on?

He
managed to turn his head around and everyone was crowding around
them, Thom lay flat on the floor, then he started to scream.

The
closeness in the air seemed to increase, that may have been brought
about by his discomfort at hearing the man's suffering. He knew that
kind of anguish first-hand and had heard it from others many times in
his life.

He
could vaguely hear Garth shouting at Thom, trying to bodily lift him
and then demanding that Gadtor get to his feet. He sluggishly obeyed
with the aid of two soldiers beside him, Thom continued to scream.

Nothing
had happened, there had been no attack or any other reason Gadtor
could think of that would cause Thom to fall victim in such a way.
Was it some internal malady that plagued him unseen and unknown?