Escana (78 page)

What was worse than the
inevitable knowledge of their demise was having to hear it draw
closer, the screams of the men were more sickening than anything he
had experienced in Urial and on a scale he couldn't comprehend. There
was no brief impalement, a cry followed by a gurgling slump, these
soldiers were being torn to pieces before the very eyes of comrades
who knew that they would be next.

Thom's voice had finally subsided
and he soon drew out Skullcleaver, his great two-handed claymore. The
look on his face was one of strange acceptance, there was no fear
there. It made Gadtor feel bad about his previous futile urges to
bolt, he knew there was nowhere to go and that Thom wouldn't follow
his lead if he were to attempt it. Now that the time was finally upon
them, Gadtor found that he could not share the same outlook as his
fellow prisoner, he was not ready to die.

'Draw your blade,' Thom urged
him. Gadtor looked down stupidly, realising that he had been
surveying the battle without a weapon in his hand. He complied,
thinking better of asking the man what the point was. He knew he had
to die on his feet like the rest of the men who had refused to run.

'If I were a praying man this
would be the time I'd seek divine intervention,' Gadtor quipped,
wondering how much longer it would take before the lizards were atop
of their position.

Thom gave him a disgusted look.
'We are here because of the fucked up choices we made in our lives,
there will be no divine retribution to save us from the grasp of the
desert.'

For once, Gadtor felt inclined to
agree with him.

Then the ranks of men between
them and the creatures buckled, spilling forth a giant scaly head
that butted its way into their path. It was a strange sight, its
skull markedly larger than any other lizard Gadtor had seen, sporting
huge chunks of what looked like bone protruding from either side of
its cranial carapace. It used these to hammer a path clear for its
lesser kin, obviously relishing the crowded environment in which it
could swing its bludgeoning fury about.

It spotted them, eyeing their
weapons with mild contempt and roaring out a challenge. Thom yelled
back at it, brandishing Skullcleaver menacingly, the gesture was
hollow. Gadtor suspected that even if he hadn't been attached, no one
man could take a creature that size.

It pounded its heavy fore-claw
into the earth, preparing for a charge that would crush them against
the canyon wall, it seemed momentarily confused that they had made no
attempt to flee.

He felt a nudge in the ribs then,
Thom was trying to get his attention for some reason.

'When I tell you to dive, we both
dive to the right. Our momentum should take us clear of the impact if
we time it correctly.'

Gadtor nodded, the idea of
fighting this thing seemed crazy but better that than being pasted
against the rocky surface. Was Thom hoping that the creature would
daze itself upon impact? In spite of its size it looked a keen
predator, not something to be out-tricked so simply.

'What's your plan after we dive
clear of the initial impact?'

Thom smiled. 'I cut it until it
runs away.'

That didn't fill Gadtor with
confidence.

A strange noise filled the
canyon, it was deep and resonant as if blown from some great horn,
was this a victory cry from the lizards?

He looked at Thom in query but
the man had gone deathly pale at the sound, he finally knew then that
this was the end and let it show on his features.

'It can't be...' Gadtor heard him
murmur, was he so dismayed by defeat? It had seemed inevitable to him
since they had been trapped here by the final assault of the lizards,
he figured that Thom would have shared that view.

Something was standing between
their blades and the lizard, its back turned to them and facing off
against the previous threat.

The lizard bellowed in
frustration, as if demanding it be granted passage to this new kill.
The figure unslung a great axe from his back, the action prompted the
lizard to take a few steps closer.

'What is this?' Gadtor asked,
completely baffled. He was afforded no answer, Thom's entire being
seemed bent upon witnessing the events unfolding before them.

It wasn't human, he could tell
that the moment he set eyes upon it. It stood well over seven feet in
height and its skin was a dark green hue the likes of which he had
never seen before. It truly was skin too, there were no hints of
scales upon the heavily muscled arms that broke out of the cuirass.
It appeared that this was was neither a kin nor a friend of the
lizards.

A deep growling sound emanated
from the strange creature then, the hackles on Gadtor's neck rose in
primal terror and the noise had a similar effect on the lizard.

It backtracked at an increased
speed now, looking to put some distance between itself and the
newcomer...

Gadtor blinked, the axe fell, a
shriek was cut off with a strange crunch and the horn was blown
again, its basso rumble bouncing off the canyon walls as if it could
hold back an army.

The creature leapt away in a
cloud of sand, faster than Gadtor's eye could follow. The lizards no
longer seemed to be attacking, their flight was punctuated by a
combination of frightened squeals and death shrieks. They had been
left alone once more.

He turned, looking at Thom in
askance, he needed to know what had just happened. Was this the
divine intervention he had jokingly asked for?

Thom remained almost statuesque
in his immobile silence, it was as if he had been frozen in time by
the sight of this singular action. Gadtor nudged him in the ribs and
he briefly shook his head as if clearing a vision, then settled his
gaze upon him.

'Before you ask what that was,
allow it to return and introduce itself. I saw a brief flicker of
recognition in it, it shall want to pursue that at its leisure when
it is done hunting.'

The sounds grew more distant as
Thom spoke, whatever it was that had saved them seemed to be herding
the remaining lizards away from the canyons and into the open desert.

Their waiting gave Gadtor an
opportunity to gaze about him with a mixture of disgust and pity at
the bodies of lizard and man alike strewn over the desert like so
much refuse between the canyon walls. A few stunned men picked their
way through the corpses with wild eyes and blank faces, they dotted
the carpet of bodies like weeds that had escaped the garden blade.

He found he had collapsed into
the sand then, heedlessly pulling Thom down with him as he retched,
his body rebelling against the sight of so much carnage.

Eventually he was pulled to his
feet by a strong pair of hands, the creature stood eyeing them with a
curious expression upon its face.

He froze then, pondering
desperately at what this thing's intentions could be, was this
solitary figure truly what the entire lizard army had been fleeing
from?

'You fought bravely, considering
the frantic nature of your opposition. I wish to extend my apologies
for the loss of life my pursuit of these beasts has cost.'

Gadtor stood agape, the thing was
offering him an apology?

'You alone caused this whole army
to flee?'

The creature shook its head, its
expressions and language seemingly human enough if hard to follow. 'I
am but an advance scout for a greater force that is coming, we aim to
eradicate the lizard presence from the surface of our lands.'

'There's more of you?' Gadtor
couldn't help but ask. Having seen the thing in combat he had no
doubts that an army of them could destroy the Empire. He was all for
the upheaval of such a monolithic political structure but not at the
loss of all those living there, not from an invasion.

It was Thom who answered his
question. 'No, there is only one of him. I know not the army that he
chooses to lead but he is thankfully the last of his kin.'

It turned to Thom then, satisfied
that its apology had been enough for Gadtor. 'We are both lone wolves
by nature, General Thom. In spite of our ways we've both found
ourselves at the head of armies, an odd twist of fate wouldn't you
say?'

'I don't believe in fate, Torr.'
Thom snarled back at him, Gadtor had no idea why the man was being so
hostile but he sensed a deep recognition between the two of them.
There was an undercurrent here that he remained unaware of, much like
when The Hermit had first encountered El-Vador.

'So what happens now?' Gadtor
finally asked, breaking the tension of the stares.

The creature looked back at him
and that's when a recognition of his own hit. Torr. The exclamatory
word often taken by men of all stations. A large monster conjured out
of the depths of fairy tales to scare children and spell woe for any
it encountered. Could the stories have some basis in fact?

'I can see the recognition in
your eyes, young one. They do not deceive you, I am the same Torr of
legend and I have returned to claim my rightful place upon the
Imperial throne.'

'You plan to invade once again?'
Thom asked, sounding weary. 'I suppose that makes us your prisoners,
doesn't it?'

Torr frowned at him. 'Prisoners
is such an ugly word, you are my companions in arms for the duration
of our purging. My hope is that you will learn the values of my
people and when we finally turn our attentions to the world outside
of our desert that you will join us in arms against the Empire.'

Thom kept quiet at that, it was
clear that Torr was unaware that the survivors of the lizard's last
assault were all that was left of the Imperial army.

The creature glanced down at
their legs, noticing their imprisonment for the first time. 'I see
you have been offered that which you shunned once before, I choose to
offer you this gift a final time.'

Gadtor watched as Thom's face was
transformed from one of weary acceptance into deep yearning, was it
power that both El-Vador and now Torr had been offering him? What was
it about Thom that he knew who these powerful creatures were already?

'If you are willing to aid me I
shall join your cause, I have since decided that death does not suit
someone like me quite yet. There is much work yet to be done before I
may join my friends.'

Torr nodded at the resolve he saw
in the man's eyes. His axe came crashing down before Gadtor had
chance to even flinch, he felt a sudden lightness as he leapt clear
of the sweeping axe. He had been expecting resistance where there
hadn't been any, the weapon had cleaved their imprisonment apart.

He looked over in astonishment at
the severed manacle and attached block, the axe had cut through both
with a clean slice leaving two separate halves lying in the sand.

Thom stood together with his new
ally, a strange light emanating from him as Torr clasped his arm.

Gadtor looked on in bafflement,
was this some kind of ritual to sanctify their alliance? It looked
more like a transferral of power, leaving him with no clue of what
would happen to him next.

The grip was finally relinquished
and a predatory smile broke out on Thom's face. 'I shall return upon
first light, I may take a few liberties with this at first.'

A cloud of sand buffeted him,
forcing him to close his eyes. He peered out over a raised arm as it
settled, Thom had vanished.

H
e awoke to
the sight of clouds passing by, the wind had picked up and the
morning sky indicated that he had been asleep for some time. After
recent events only now did he realise how badly he must have needed
it, his mind felt sharper and clearer than before thanks to the rest
and somehow that offered him more control over what was essentially
another form of captivity, albeit a more civil kind.

He picked himself up from the
deck of the craft and stared up at Gooseman, the man had his eyes
shut and there was a faint muttering under his breath that Jakob
couldn't catch. There was no doubt in his mind that they were moving
much faster than before, had something changed to make the man feel
they needed to arrive at Levanin sooner?

As if sensing Jakob's
wakefulness, Gooseman opened his eyes and the boat slowed a fraction.
'Good morning,' he said. 'I would offer you some breakfast but unless
you've developed a sudden taste for wood splinters there's not much
to chew on until we reach the capital.'

Jakob didn't feel all that hungry
anyway, he was too wrapped up in trying not to give in to the
temptation and shove the man overboard. He had realised the futility
of that thought a hundred times over and it was one of the few things
keeping him inactive. If he killed Gooseman now he was surely taking
his own life, suspended as he was high above the world with no food
or water.

Was Gooseman right about him? Was
his affliction a disease of the mind rather than the command of the
greater power? It certainly sounded more plausible but in the cold
light of day his rested mind was more sceptical of the explanation,
perhaps their arrival at the capital would yield more information.