Escana (77 page)

'What the fuck are you doing out
here and why didn't you attack lizard?'

Silence greeted him, the
engrained subservience of being at the bottom of the social ladder
had dampened any previous spirit they had shown.

'If I don't get answer I gut you
like fish where you stand.'

It was Darinnis that finally
spoke. 'What were we supposed to do? Prod it with our spears and hope
it didn't do to us what it did to your men? Why in Torr's name do you
think us lot would be any use to you in a fight? Or are your brains
addled from the hit you took?'

There were several sharp intakes
of breath at his last question, nobody spoke to a guard that way and
lived.

Jadil smiled at the man, Jimmy
knew that smile and felt powerless to stop what was coming.

'Maybe you are right,' he said in
his thick accent. 'Maybe I take a knock on the head and not myself.'

He patted him jovially on the
shoulder before thrusting his sword deep into the man, Darinnis had a
confused expression on his face as he coughed up blood onto Jadil's
already stained armour.

With a twist and a jerk, Jadil
removed his sword and advanced on the remaining members of C-Company.
Jimmy watched on powerlessly, frozen to the spot in complete horror.
He thought briefly of Urial and how he had done nothing and nearly
cost Jakob his life but for Ella's intervention. That day he had been
enamoured by the grace of The Hermit, there was nothing graceful in
the moves of this butcher. He carved open a hole in C-Company,
hacking down those most capable of fleeing or putting up a fight
first, then executing the few left that were defenceless. Jimmy
realised to his horror that he was being left for last.

Jadil hobbled over to him, there
was no sadistic smirk on his features as Jimmy had expected given the
wanton slaughter he had wrought. Instead there was an unreadable mask
in place as he carried out his final kill.

Jimmy closed his eyes as the
blade whistled down and decapitated him.

H
ern had
locked away everything upon entering into combat with Yalem, in spite
of this for the first time in memory he found that fear had touched
him unbidden.

The shambling corpse of what had
previously been the guard Captain was like nothing he had seen
before, it came after him with obvious intent but was never fast
enough to catch him. After a time Hern continued toward his final
exhumation, attempting to put enough distance between himself and the
creature. Given that the decision was between dying because of a
rushed attempt at ending Dyson's life or facing the thing following
him and perishing, he had realised there wasn't one that needed to be
made. He'd deal with his unwanted pursuer upon completing his task.

He encountered no guards on his
traversal through the sandy corridors, Re'tak had done an admirable
job of drawing their attention and he hoped that his friend had
survived without serious injury.

A scream from behind filled him
first with dread but then with a strange satisfaction, the monster in
his wake had taken pause to kill anything with a pulse, inadvertently
aiding Hern's cause and allowing him to further the distance between
them.

He knew that Dyson would be
safely hidden away from any potential threat or coup, the man's
paranoia was apparent and in this particular situation served him
well. Having said that, it would do him no good against Hern's
particular abilities.

He cast his mind out across the
fort, there were so few people left alive and most were screaming
stabs of light scattered across his conscience like so much human
debris. He filtered them out through force of will and maintained his
focus on determining where Dyson had hidden himself.

He sensed him then in an unlikely
place, the man had situated himself in his own office. There was a
strange calm surrounding him that Hern had witnessed upon their first
meeting. Why had he not hidden?

Hern proceeded more cautiously
then, the unexpected was an anathema to those in his trade and it had
presented itself more than once, turning an already difficult task
into chaos.

He made it to Dyson's office
without incident, the man on the other side of the door was alone and
accepting of his fate. Hern decided to knock.

'You may enter.'

Hern obliged, finding the man sat
at his desk and scratching away at paper as if nothing were awry.

'One moment if you please,' Dyson
said, his head focused firmly on the paper as he finished off a
document of some importance, Hern was beginning to wonder if the
Corporal knew who his guest was.

He carefully placed the quill to
one side and looked up at Hern, betraying no surprise at finding an
assassin at his door.

'If you'd kindly bolt the door we
may have enough time for a conversation.'

Hern kept his eyes on the man,
was this some sort of trap? Why didn't he detect the slightest bit of
trepidation? He bolted the door hastily and stayed near it, scanning
the room for potential dangers.

Dyson followed his gaze. 'There
is no trap, it is just you and I in this office and I have no
particular plans for your demise. I must say that while your
departure into the desert was most unfortunate your subsequent return
has caused a great deal of unrest.'

'If you define unrest as killing
everything then yes, I suspect that you are correct.'

The man shrugged. 'The results of
your wanton destruction are immaterial now. In attempting to exhume
my bodyguard you have made a grievous error that has condemned us
all.'

'What is this Yalem creature of
yours? I have never encountered such a beast in all my time.'

Dyson shuffled a few papers
before setting them to one side. 'I do not feel compelled to answer
any of your questions. If you would hurry along and end this in the
short time remaining I would appreciate it.'

So the thing approaching their
office was no longer Dyson's loyal bodyguard, it would continue to
limp its way through Greyhawk, killing everything it came across
including its master.

'I do not think I shall kill
you,' Hern replied. 'You may yet have your uses, I swore on my honour
that every man in Greyhawk would die. That creature you hold no power
over is not a man and is accomplishing my purpose quite adequately.'

He walked over to the man's desk,
taking a seat opposite him and staring directly into his eyes. 'No,
you would prefer that I end you so that you need not deal with Yalem.
I do not intend to give you that satisfaction.'

Dyson sighed. 'Then you have
condemned us both to a painful death. So be it.'

A pounding came on the door then,
as they had suspected it would. What wasn't suspected was the voice
that followed it.

'Corporal Dyson, we know you're
in there. Open this damn door so that we may discuss the terms of
your surrender.'

The Corporal smiled. 'A most
unfortunate time for a hostile takeover, wouldn't you say?' He raised
his voice then, addressing the man behind the door. 'You will have to
break this door down before I negotiate with the likes of you!' His
voice had the perfect inflection of paranoia and fear, making Hern
question the sincerity of the man's previous ravings.

'Then so be it!' came the voice,
clearly angry. 'Boys, kick his fucking door down.'

A series of thuds rattled the
door as boots sank into it, the wood was of sturdy construction
though and would take some time before giving way.

Dyson reached down into his
drawer and Hern flicked out his blade, letting it rest on the man's
throat.

'I urge you to relax, it would
serve me no purpose now to kill you. Instead I give you a final
opportunity my Je'daran friend, we end this swiftly and with dignity
before those who think less of us do otherwise.'

He carefully drew out a decanter
of red liquid, possibly wine, and placed it on the table in front of
Hern. 'I suggest a toast, to the ending of all things. I use this
fine vintage to dispatch traitors but it will serve our purpose at
this time.'

Hern took the blade away from the
man's throat and drew the decanter toward him, watching the thick
poison swirl inside like blood. With the flat of his blade he swung
and sent it flying into the far wall, shattering it. Dyson's face
betrayed a flicker of fear, replaced with disappointment.

'I'm not thirsty,' Hern replied,
pulling his weapon away from the table and continuing to stare at the
Corporal. There would be no easy way out for this man.

A scream came from the corridor,
followed by another and more frantic pounding on the door. It would
appear that Yalem had arrived.

They listened in silence as the
screams turned to sobbing and pleading, only for that to subside and
the single remaining thumping on the door slowing then ceasing
entirely. Whoever had been behind that door and intent on usurping
Dyson's position was now lying dead in the corridor.

A single strike to the door made
the hinges squeal in protest, as if a giant body had been thrown
against it. Hern knew otherwise, the point of impact was too small
for that to be the case. The man, if you could call it a man, had
drawn back his fist and was ramming it into the door.

'Admittedly I would have picked
better company to share my final moments with, yours shall have to
suffice. It is most unfortunate that you decided against killing me
outright, this is going to be very painful and not altogether swift.'

Hern wasn't paying much heed to
the man, his mind was working rapidly on finding an alternative to a
final gambit that seemed too simplistic to possibly work. He doubted
he'd have enough time to devise one as the door almost buckled under
another strike from Yalem.

Dyson made a leap for him,
thinking his attentions were elsewhere, a mistake on his part as Hern
leapt out of the seat and rushed to the other side of the table. In
an attempt to wrestle free one of his blades or die trying, the
Corporal had unwittingly played right into his hands. Could this
actually work?

The strikes were rhythmic, so if
he timed this correctly he could use Dyson as bait for the monster as
he staged an escape. Not his most ingenious of plans but it would
have to suffice.

He ducked under the desk just as
the final shattering blow struck the door, a thudding sound directly
in front of him sent the desk flying toward him and pinned him
against the wall. The door had flown into Dyson and he was now
sandwiched, leaving Hern trapped under the desk and pressed up
against the far wall.

He probed the inside of the table
to see if there was any give between it and the floor but the wood
was firmly sealed to the stone under the pressure of the body and
door, there was no way out.

After several attempts to shove
the weight clear with his feet, Hern lay still and listened to the
surroundings.

Footsteps had drawn closer to the
table now, Yalem seemed to be ignoring Dyson's body. Presumably the
Corporal had been killed in the impact, so much for his plan of using
him as a decoy. He didn't panic in spite of the grimness of the
situation, if he was trapped in here and the creature beyond wanted
him dead it would first have to extricate him from the furniture. In
those brief moments of the desk being cleared he may be given an
opportunity to escape. If it lacked the strength to remove the
objects pinning him then he would die of thirst, a fate somehow worse
than whatever had previously been in store for him. He had everything
to gain from the scrabbling noises he now heard as it attempted to
find a grip on the wood surface with which to pull upon.

He heard a groaning sound as the
door was lifted off the desk, he pushed hard with his feet, bracing
his back against the wall for further support. The table was heavy
and its shifting was gradual rather than the sudden movement that
Hern desired, nevertheless it opened up his window of opportunity. He
sprang free of the desk and buried a sword in the creature's side as
it started to relinquish its grip on the door. It let out a gurgling
yell of protest but by that time Hern was already sprinting clear of
the room and vaulting over the dead bodies piled outside. He was
free.

G
adtor
thought that fear would be the overwhelming feeling as their forces
were torn apart by lizards on both sides, he was wrong though.
Instead he found himself frustrated at being pinned to Thom and
incapable of defending himself adequately. It was a strange thing to
want as regardless of his mobility they were dead, he supposed that
he wanted to meet death on his own terms at the height of his powers
rather than caught in some snare like a wounded animal.

He listened as the General
bellowed out commands that largely went unheeded, this was no place
for discipline or controlled aggression, they were being overrun and
panic had spread instantly through the ranks of men that knew their
time was finally up. Thom would have had more luck shouting at the
sands to part upon his every footfall.