Escana (32 page)

He
heard a wincing sound as the Falarus drew another breath. 'I do not
know. It is inevitable that they will try. It is Kelgrimm's way.'

Another
fit of racking coughs took the man, causing him to recoil into the
wall and thrash about in his chains, Gadtor decided not to ask any
other questions.

Time
ground to a halt waiting in the small chamber he knew as their cell.
After a time, the sound of feet approaching from a great distance
intruded into his mind. He braced himself as best as he could in
preparation of whoever was coming.

There
was a series of clicking sounds and the door swung outward into the
dazzling light of a torch held aloft by a dark figure. He heard
Falarus groan, as if the light itself were a new pain inflicted upon
him. He was followed by a presence Gadtor had felt before.

All
hope in his heart died.

'Judge,
jury and executioner of innumerable mundane acts for the powers that
be. Ah to live in times where I could waltz to and fro between
countless couples of dignitaries and men of worth and be known by
name! A shame that I must deal with such offal as your like, yet this
unwanted piece is of an altogether larger puzzle.'

Gadtor
snarled at him. 'Oh fuck off whorespawn. The torture of your company
is enough, I submit!'

He
was completely blinded by the light and entirely powerless, yet if
anything his hopeless situation seemed to make him bolder in the face
of something he wouldn't have a chance against even if unshackled.

To
his disappointment once again, El-Vador chuckled. 'Not a man of many
words. Your uncouth dialect allows a more direct approach perhaps.
Let us then dispense with my lexicon and arrive at a suitable
conclusion. Lord Kelgrimm desires your assistance and feels you've
bought a lie that has long been told.'

Gadtor
tried his best to shrug. 'What lie?'

The
creature paused for thought, as if direct speech didn't seem to come
to it easily. 'Your decrepit friend beside you isn't who you think he
is.'

Falarus
rattled in his chains, hissing at El-Vador in a peculiar fashion.

'That's
right,' El-Vador continued. 'I read his mind at the shanty warehouse
and found the contents most distasteful. Would you like me to divulge
any?'

Falarus
barked out a denial that seemed to be cut off from its source. A
sound emanated from his throat as if it seemed to tighten,
constricted from the air around he so desperately required.

'I
hear no firm denials on the part of Falarus. I can only assume he
wants us to continue.'

The
silent figure holding the torch opened the door again and ushered in
a smaller one with his arm.

'This
is Elizabeth, your eyes are no doubt beginning to see her more
clearly.' El-Vador motioned to the silent torch-bearer. 'Have
Elizabeth approach our friend here, let him see that I am true to my
word.'

As
the little girl grew closer Gadtor peered out into the haze. It was
indeed her, El-Vador had not been lying to tug at his heart, instead
he felt an unease at what this thing might do to her to make him
talk.

'Ah
but we are only getting started. Gadtor is it? Yes, Gadtor. We have
only just begun, the true story of your friend's identity shall be
revealed to you now.'

El-Vador
turned to Falarus, a genuine look of contempt playing on its odd
features. 'You are very aware of who this is and why she has been
spared and brought here. She wasn't one of the orphans that were so
crudely butchered. Tell me, what was her mother's name again?'

He
almost felt Falarus stiffen at the question, the words seemingly rung
from his lips by force. 'Mrs Newbury is her mother.'

El-Vador
nodded. 'Yes, quite accurate. Is this the case Elizabeth?'

Elizabeth
nodded wordlessly. It was only then that Gadtor spotted the small
platter she carried in her hands, had she been brought here with
food? Somehow he didn't think so.

'Now
withered one, answer me this.' El-Vador's hand motioned upward and
Elizabeth removed the lid of the platter. 'Who fathered Mrs Newbury?'

A
shriek ripped out of Falarus as his chains thundered against the
wall. The severed head of Mrs Newbury stared unblinkingly at him.
Elizabeth held the platter dispassionately without a sound. He
retched but nothing but a trickle of bile met his lips.

'You
monster!' Falarus wailed at him brokenly, tears running down his
weathered face.

El-Vador
laughed. 'I? I am the monster? Oh no my contemptible fiend, you are
keenly mistaken.'

Turning
back to Gadtor the creature's face appeared solemn. 'No, I am not the
monster at all.' He waved his hand at the platter and Elizabeth set
the lid back down. The stony-faced torch-bearer appeared unmoved by
what had transpired.

'You
see, if Elizabeth's mother is the recently deceased Mrs Newbury, then
that would make Falarus her kindly old grandfather would it not?'

There
seemed to be anger there for the first time, genuine anger towards
the end of that question.

'Yes,
it would,' Gadtor said, seeing that nobody else was going to answer.

'Tell
me, monster. Who is the father of Elizabeth?'

Gadtor's
gut wrenched. He knew where this would end.

Falarus'
feeble head shook violently with the chains, as if trying to hold
back the answer, all the while watching El-Vador with a look Gadtor
couldn't describe.

'I
am her father.'

As
soon as Gadtor heard those words he knew he must act. Incestuous
relations to such a degree may be a common occurrence in Urial
because of the importance placed in pure bloodlines
but
he
still
couldn't
shake
his
feelings
of
utter
revulsion
and
disgust.
The
man
who
had
been
a
father
to
him,
the
man
that
had
brought
him
back
to
life,
was
no
better
than
the
pompous
nobles
and
their
despicable
acts
back
home.
He felt a great
coldness steal over his heart. A small voice of warning tried to
shout out at him but it was silenced as if smothered by a large
blanket.

Gone
were the smiles, the jibes, the lengthy insults. In its place was a
decisive interrogation that Gadtor found himself willing forward.

H
e
had never known Mrs Newbury as the child of Falarus. Nobody had
known. It seemed like he had never known Falarus at all.
It
wasn't
the
frail
cracking
voice
he
knew
either,
his
words
had
been
delivered
with
clear
anger
and
defiance.

There
was
a
ringing
silence
throughout
the
dungeon.
El-Vador
finally
cut
through
the
reticence
with
his
usual
sardonic
glee.
'I feel as you
do, Gadtor. Such misguided torture of a small child over the mistaken
belief of the power of a bloodline is despicable to the core. I feel
that it would be dishonourable to let you enact justice without
knowing the full extent of the truth. There is yet more.'

He
motioned to the torch-bearer, who placed it in a sconce on the wall
and produced a small key from his hooded robes.

'I
know you cannot harm me, you know that as well. I also believe that
you will not try.' The torch-bearer unlocked Gadtor's manacles as
El-Vador spoke.

'There
is one more atrocity that this creature has committed and it must be
brought to light before you act.' He motioned at Elizabeth, who
watched the hooded man without emotion. 'Young Elizabeth is with
child.' He looked at Falarus as he uttered the final words. 'We both
know who the father is, don't we?'

Gadtor
shook free the final manacle and was confronted with the pommel of
El-Vador's sword.

'I
don't understand,' he said. 'Elizabeth is but a child herself.'

El-Vador
shook his head. 'Elizabeth has seen a few more summers than you
suspect and thus has entered into womanhood.' The look he gave
Falarus should have killed the man. 'A woman can be kept a child only
so long by the herbs laced in her every meal.'

The
man with the key flung back his hood and stood beside El-Vador.

'This
gentleman that freed you met Elizabeth two score summers past. As she
nursed him back to health, their friendship flourished and blossomed
into something entirely different. He cared not that she was mute as
he was deaf and endeavoured to teach her letters as she cared for
him. Falarus prevented Elizabeth's departure from the warehouse and
made Gershon the villain, outcasting him. He has been waiting to
avenge Falarus' atrocities, to be reunited with Elizabeth. Yet he is
not a violent man and he begs that your hand end it.'

The
pommel rested in his hand. He gazed up at the bald man, tears were
brimming in his eyes and a pleading look was on his face as he spoke
a single word. 'Please.'

He
turned to Falarus, the sword drawing him over toward the man. 'How?
How did you do this?'

Time
seemed to stand still as he watched the man gather his final breath.
There was a look in his eyes of resignation now, as if he knew that
there was no getting out of this any more now that his lies had been
uncovered.

'Gadtor
my friend, I forgive you.'

R
e'tak's
eyes had adjusted to the near-perpetual darkness he had been encased
in.

It
was an enclosed space of stone and a solid structure as his initial
enraged thrashings had determined. The surroundings were unfamiliar
in composition but not in their regularity. The stones were stacked
as the pink skins were prone to do and that seemed the only feature,
much like the desert's perpetual sprawling dunes yet drawn
uncomfortably close. His people were used to being buried under such
rock, yet the knowledge of the stone being a foreign construct filled
him with wariness.

Occasionally
he would be blinded by a small shaft of light and his back would be
littered with rancid meat and the occasional corpse, hardly
appetising fare but enough to keep him alive.

He
soon learned to judge the passing of time with his digestion, which
in itself was an alarming factor in his captivity. The steadily
increasing squalor of his conditions would attract the attentions of
insects he would rather avoid.

Mid-way
between feeding sessions he heard a distant clicking and a closer
grinding sound of stone meeting stone. He had grown wise to the
blinding light and flicked his first set of lids in anticipation. A
small chink of white light spread out from the far side of the wall
as it slid agonisingly to reveal sand and more light yet again.

He
eased himself stiffly into a ready stance, his captors no doubt had
sinister plans and wouldn't release him willingly after having
captured him without a fight to the death.

The
crack had widened into a space large enough to fit his head through,
but he was wise to the folly of such curiosity, there was no sense in
getting his head lopped off for his troubles.

When
the wall had finally slid open enough to let him out, his eyes had
fully adjusted to the harsh sunlight beaming into his cell. There
also seemed no attempt to rouse him from his current position so he
crept forward, sniffing the air for signs of life.

There
were at least four of them standing a good distance from the
entrance, all of them breathing much harder than necessary. He could
feel the fear coursing through them as they stood their ground, they
clearly hadn't unleashed him of their own volition.

He
sucked in a deep breath and tested their resolve with a roar that
bounced off the rocks and out into the open space. Their fear
multiplied, clearly they were also unwilling prey to the pinks that
had ensnared him.

He
knew much of terror, of how it may paralyse any creature on a primal
level. He may not relish inflicting it as often as others of his
tribe but it was an effective tool in the right place. Given that he
had been bested by two pinks alone, he wasn't going to take multiple
ones lightly any more.