Escana (57 page)

As the door slammed shut Dyson
exhaled, scattering sheets upon the floor. He hadn't realised he'd
been holding his breath and the impact of the previous mental
commands on his skull had somehow exhausted him.

A cold fear gripped him then, his
heart pounded and his paranoia grew exponentially with every beat. He
tried to shut them off but his mind caught glimpses of his own
inevitable demise at the hands of this boy.

No, boy was inadequate. Dyson had
never experienced anything quite like this and it terrified him.

What was that creature?

H
e had a bad
feeling about this.

The guards forcibly dragged him
to down into the depths of the fort and he lost count of the strange
turns the passage had taken, eventually he came out into an
all-too-familiar room.

The rows of weapons before him
were the same as before. It would appear that he was to fight in the
arena once again. He knew he wasn't in Dyson's good books but why was
the man risking the loss of his control over Re'tak?

He had thought about the lizard a
lot over the past few days, certainly his lot had improved having
been kept in vaguely sanitary conditions with the most pathetic and
miserable bunch of fighters he had ever seen. He wondered if they had
been treating Re'tak any better as a result of his appeal to Dyson.
He had tried to reach out to the creature to speak to him but it
caused nothing but exhaustion, if Re'tak was still alive Hern had no
way of discerning it.

The boy he had the misfortune of
bullying couldn't have sold him out so quickly. He hadn't any way of
contacting Dyson without Hern knowing and if he was any judge of
character, this boy wasn't going to betray him.

The thoughts continued to swirl
in his head as he picked up a quarterstaff and weighed it in his
hands, the balance wasn't exceptional but it would have to suffice.
The other weapons looked like they'd struggle to shave his opponent,
let alone cause injury.

Indicating that he had finished
his perusal, Hern was escorted more warily by the guards now as he
made his way toward the arena floor. He couldn't remember if they had
been present during his previous demonstration to Dyson but had no
doubt that they had been made fully aware of what had happened.

The sun was blinding as he
finally took to the sandy arena floor. He shaded his hand and gazed
around the bowl, it seemed that the entire fort had turned out for
this particular encounter. There was already some heckling from a
group of guards upon his appearance. The two behind him proceeded to
prod him firmly but cautiously, indicating he should make his way to
the centre of the arena.

As his sight recovered, he
noticed two other men standing patiently ahead of him. One was
clearly Tub, the man was unmistakable even from this distance, there
was no doubt in Hern's mind that he wouldn't be fighting this
arrogant little creature, as much as he'd want to.

He gripped the quarterstaff
firmly, feeling nothing of his former strength. Try as he might to
avoid it from happening, his conditions had managed to sap him of his
previous vigour and leave him in no state to fight. He only hoped
that his competitor was suffering from the same problems.

He was a tall man, wrapped up in
some kind of cloak in spite of the sweltering heat. His hazel eyes
watched Hern appraisingly as he approached, there was no indication
of fear or panic. They may as well have been having a meal together
out here for all the emotion the man displayed. Hern didn't like that
one bit.

A quarterstaff of the same make
as his own hung loosely at the man's side, the fingers of his
opponent were rapping an odd rhythm on it.

His trepidation rose, any
unforeseen circumstances were a potential threat and this man gave
him nothing but mystery to go on. Hern dampened his emotions down,
none of the things he worried about presently were things he could
change. He would simply have to focus on the task at hand and
determine the calibre of his opposition in combat.

Tub gave him a malevolent glare
of glee, he was clearly relishing the possibility of retribution at
the hands of another. Taking a deep breath, the squat little man
turned spoke to the crowd.

'This fight will last until one
competitor either submits or is rendered unable to fight. There are
to be no death blows.' A groan from the guards. 'Though if a
competitor accidentally lands a killing blow we will not hold it
against him.' A cheer from the same group of guards, laughter from
some. Tub was clearly eyeing Hern's opponent as he said those words,
was that a command or simply a wish?

The squat little man backed off
then and uttered a single word. 'Fight!'.

Hern closed the gap between
himself and his opponent, bringing up the staff in a defensive
posture. He shut off the shouting of the crowd and his own hopes and
fears, surrendering himself to years of training and the moment in
which they needed to be exercised.

Something was wrong. The stranger
he faced off against made no move in response to Hern's, choosing to
remain stock still in the middle of the arena. Hern decided to flank
him, hoping to provoke a reaction that he could finally glean some
information from.

As he circled round, the man
still refused to raise his staff to defend the inevitable. In fact it
seemed that he hadn't moved at all since Hern had entered the arena,
what was he playing at? Was he going to submit the second Hern
brushed him with his staff?

He closed the arc of the
circling, he could easily have lashed out with the staff and broken
it across the man's back if he wanted to. He decided against it,
perhaps that was what his foe was expecting.

Desiring an end to the strange
deadlock, Hern took a step forward and experimentally jabbed at the
man's cloak with his staff.

Nothing happened, his weapon
gently pushed against the cloak and into the man's ribs. Hern still
wasn't convinced, why would the man expect any mercy out here in
Sah'kel?

He drew back his staff and swung
low for the back of the man's legs, looking to upend him and force a
quick finish to this.

The man leapt into the air
slightly, skipping over the top of the intended blow and causing
Hern's staff to whistle through the air, the momentum turning him
briefly and ineffectually.

Righting himself swiftly, Hern
immediately followed his attempted trip with a straight thrust at the
man's sternum, there was no dodging that.

The quarterstaff swept up out of
nowhere and shattered the tip of Hern's weapon in a shower of
splinters. The force of the strike reverberated through his arms and
almost forced him to drop his weapon. He took a step back, blinking
at the measured calm of his opponent as he finally started to
advance.

Hern had a very bad feeling about
this.

Re'tak felt the presence from the
bleak confines of his captivity, there were more of them out to spar
against each other. Perhaps this time they would finally unleash him,
maybe he could drag a body back into the squalor. It wouldn't be like
the pale-skins to care for their fallen comrades. He was so desperate
that the bony flesh seemed like a banquet right now, just
tantalisingly out of reach.

The deliveries of rancid meat had
steadily increased over the course of the recent indeterminable
amount of time, possibly indicating that what this yellow-skin Hern
promised had come true. Maybe he had communicated that Re'tak
required more sustenance and even now he could be divining a way to
spring them free of this place. Then again, he hadn't heard from Hern
at all since they had taken him into the blinding light, what if he
had been killed in the ensuing exchange of words with the other
pale-skins?

Pushing his thoughts away from
such morbidity, Re'tak chose to focus on sensing the pale-skins that
entered the arena.

One of them was as tightly wound
as the guts of a cave rat, anxiety and anger radiated off it for all
to perceive. He had sensed this one many times before, it seemed to
be a leader of some description, though how such a wildly emotive
creature could lead anything was beyond Re'tak. He sincerely doubted
it was in charge of the entire structure in which he was imprisoned.
More likely it was an underling of some sort, just barely capable of
doing its own job.

He could feel a series of them
now from above, these ones were not partaking in the day's activities
and as a result their usual emotional responses were dampened. Was
the underling planning on giving a speech to them? No, there would be
others eventually, he just had to remain patient.

Questing out into the centre of
the arena again, Re'tak hit a wall. He jerked back, slapping his tail
painfully off the confines of his cell. There was something out
there, something blocking his every probing thought with a resistance
the likes of which he had never felt before.

He hesitantly sent his thoughts
outward once more, tensed up in preparation for the sensation now, it
was then that he felt someone far more familiar approaching.

The wall that this man put up
didn't rebuff Re'tak with such force, simply negating his efforts to
ascertain thought and emotion. It would seem that his friend Hern was
still alive, for now.

It was an odd sensation, to
search for feeling in two individuals and be rebuffed twice. Far
worse than the frustration he felt at being enclosed for such a long
period of time. Re'tak had grown accustomed to being able to feel
everything around him, to come up with nothing was as if he had been
rendered blind.

He heard the cracking sound even
through the heavy door of his cell, that could only have been caused
by splintering wood under high impact. He had heard palms snap in
oasis ambushes that made a similar sound, that a human had created
such a noise was distressing.

The second snapping noise was
even louder than the first, Re'tak leapt back in shock as a loud thud
hit the door, whatever was going on out there wasn't what he had come
to expect of such a weak species.

Help.

The word was clear and loud in
its urgency, there was no mistaking who had sent the thought either.

Re'tak backed up what little he
could and charged at the door, already weakened from his previous
aborted attempts to free himself. The hinges shuddered on impact and
he felt half-dazed with concussion, nevertheless he charged at the
door repeatedly. His friend needed him.

Hern stared dumbly at the
splintered end of his quarterstaff, he had never seen anything like
it. A thin plume of smoke rose into the air from the end of the wood,
threatening to ignite. The friction of the strike had been enough to
set fire to his weapon, not even a master could wield a weapon with
such power. Hern wasn't aware that wood could light under a single
strike, even under the hot Sah'kel sun. Who was this stranger and why
was he now advancing after being passive to the point of comatose
prior to their engagement?

He suspected that his attempt to
attack the man had awoken his ire, though he couldn't exactly forfeit
in front of the watching crowd. They'd have killed him for such
blatant insubordination regardless of his control over Re'tak.

Re'tak. How could he have
forgotten about Re'tak? The lizard was the key here, if he could
somehow free him from his captivity he stood a chance against this
strange competitor.

Still, there was always the
possibility that the man he was facing was all power and no skill.
Hern warily watched him advance, eyes trained on him again. Could it
have been a lucky strike?

The stranger brought his staff up
between his hands as if it were a giant broadsword delivering
execution, Hern struck low and hard, aiming for the mid-riff in the
hopes of doubling the man up.

A foot snaked out of the cloak
and brushed his thrust aside, sending him off balance once again. He
felt the tearing of air above his head and brought his own staff up
on instinct in an overhead block.

The deafening cracking noise
echoed across the arena, Hern's eyes couldn't follow the movement but
it seemed to have stopped short of caving his skull in. His numb
hands flew apart in the impact, wrenching his shoulders and sending
him falling backward into the sand. On instinct he flipped back up to
face his opponent, who had clearly displayed that the first strike
was no fluke.

The two pieces of what was once
his quarterstaff now smouldered on each end, whatever this man was
doing with the remaining weapon wasn't natural. Had the stranger been
purposefully planted with some chemically altered equivalent? The
passive face revealed nothing, making it impossible to tell whether
he was surprised at the effect it was having or not. Irrespective of
whether the weapon had been altered, it still required a great deal
of skill to evade Hern's attacks, this wasn't looking good.

Tossing aside the now-useless
lumps of wood, Hern adopted a defensive stance and watched the man
advance toward him.

He could feel Re'tak's presence
pounding on the outside of his defences, demanding to know what was
going on in the fight, he knew the lizard would have had just as rude
an awakening after trying to read the stranger.