Escana (70 page)

After their feasting the evening
sun greeted them and the shadows lengthened as they set out across
the sands. This time Hern rode Re'tak as if he were a mount, they had
discussed this in detail and he found it more a matter of
practicality than shame. Apparently having to smell Hern in his mouth
for an entire journey wasn't the most pleasant of experiences.

It was with a growing sense of
comfort that they spoke with each other over the course of their
travels. Neither one seemed to be having problems keeping the
conversation going, their minds had adjusted to the burden of
transmitting and receiving thought on a near-continuous level. In
other moments they would journey quietly and gain a quiet reassurance
from the streams of thought that flowed between them, dipping in and
out of listening to them at will.

Hern had to admit, aside from the
obvious uniqueness of their joining, he had never had anything quite
like what Re'tak offered on a social level. The masters had always
forbidden extraneous socialisation, any previous ties were to be cut
on pain of death and a focus entirely upon self-improvement was
mandatory. What little he knew of speaking to others was conveyed
through lessons rather than gained in an environment.

Now he had a friend and a
companionship of the sort that the masters could not interfere with.
A great distance stood between Je'dara and the desert near Greyhawk,
they could not have scouts this far out into the dunes. The
development of said friendship with Re'tak could continue unhindered
by their machinations.

He was a marvel to behold now
that Hern was fully conscious, his sloping gait devouring the uneven
dunes at a great pace. Yet at the same time Hern felt secure, Re'tak
needed no saddle and the combined balance and poise of both of them
off-set any potential jarring effects from traversing rocky outcrops
and sliding down the higher dunes.

The increasingly hidden depths of
the desert held a strange fascination for Hern, they were devoid of
life and there was utter silence aside from Re'tak's breath and the
padding of his feet across the surface. The lack of wind gave the air
an odd texture as it passed across his face, there was no sense of
stifling atmosphere and the sands did not whip about them in clouds
as they did in Je'dara.

He gauged the passage of time
from the enclosing darkness, the visibility grew poorer and Hern's
other sense rose to compensate. He could feel the reverberations of
Re'tak off the dune floors as he continued his ceaseless march
forward, the sound of his breathing was consistent rather than
laboured which suggested that he wasn't going flat out. While the
night may cover their presence, it could do nothing to disguise their
smell.

Re'tak eventually started to
slow, a brief dip into his mind revealed that they were drawing close
to Greyhawk now. The time for planning had arrived.

The fluidity of their thoughts
was astonishing, they were both surprised by the other's tactical
knowledge and soon plotted out the best course of action for their
assault on the fort. First there was the guard at the door to deal
with.

Hern leapt off Re'tak's back,
landing lightly on the sand and cresting the dune at a crouch. His
friend had been correct in his assumption, this was the last dune
before Greyhawk. They had debated attempting to approach from a
different angle but the palisade was quite a task to scale and only
Hern was an adept climber. No, this would be a very direct entrance.
If he got it right.

He shut off his fears and
considerations and any trivial thoughts floating around in his mind
at that given point, he felt a touch of acknowledgement from Re'tak
at his going dark for this moment, like so many things it had been
discussed in detail prior to their arrival.

Creeping forward outside of the
light of the guard's torch, Hern circled round the circumference of
the light, giving a wide berth in case of genuine vigilance. He had
heard that this guard posting was more of a punishment than an actual
duty as nothing living ever approached Greyhawk at night.

He made it to the base of the
wall and pressed himself spine-first against it, angling his head so
that he could keep an eye on the guard at all times. Slowly edging
forward into the light, he made doubly certain to stay outside the
line of the guard's sight, it would do their cause no good if he
sounded the alarm.

This was the precarious moment in
their ploy, where the guard was within sighting distance of Hern but
was too far away to dispose of. His wandering mind had been wishing
pointlessly that he had a projectile long before they came to the
final dune. Re'tak had seen them as a pointless irritation at first
but upon understanding their lethal nature towards humans he had to
concede their value.

He was almost there, he could
hear the man's rattling breath, clearly the cold was doing him no
good.

Now.

Hern was surprised at the
subtlety of the sound, he had expected a loud noise to grab the
guard's attention, instead it was the softer sound of something
scuffling just out of the range of illumination.

The man took a few paces forward,
peering pointlessly into the darkness as if his eyes could adjust. It
was the only opening Hern needed.

Racing forward with a series of
short steps, Hern clamped his hand over the man's mouth and with a
twisting motion snapped his neck.

It felt oddly satisfying, feeling
the limp body slide away from him. Re'tak wandered forward out of the
darkness to inspect his handiwork.

Was killing him necessary?

Hern nodded, Re'tak understood
that gesture now amongst many other things.

It was entirely necessary. I
am sending a statement, we are sending a statement. Together we shall
kill every living thing in this fort.

He motioned them forward,
entering the unguarded gate as it lay wide open. A massacre in the
dark awaited.

I
t was
growing dark as she made her way back toward the room that El-Vador
lay recovering in, the same room they had spent the better part of
their time together at the very start.

She wondered if the wound that
had been inflicted upon him would heal, or whether he would succumb
to whatever dark force had kept it open and seeping.

Alissandra's words echoed in her
head remorselessly, they filled her with doubt about the intentions
of El-Vador in bringing her here. His intentions in general with
regards to her being of his race but not of his sex still confused
her. He shared a bed with her, yes. He still made no move to touch
her though, was she that unattractive to him?

She blinked at the thought. Did
she really just consider whether he was attracted to her? Was her
desperation not to be alone interfering with her perceptions of him?
Was this rising resentment a result of his refusal to acknowledge her
as a woman?

Why did she resent him at all?
She had been rescued from imprisonment and death, or worse, at the
hands of the seemingly tyrannical Justice Kelgrimm. Should she not be
thankful that he chose to defy such a powerful man on her behalf? He
had spirited her away and kept her safe from harm in Levanin and even
gained the consent of her father in his actions through remarkable
means. Was this not praise-worthy? Why was she questioning his
motivations when he had dispelled her doubts with such tender
honesty?

It was there, a seed of doubt had
remained planted within her in spite of her best efforts to ignore
it. She didn't know whether it was Alissandra's words that had
provided her with such concern or if they had simply woken up
something that had previously been sleeping peacefully in her current
pipe dream.

She walked through the archway
and found him sitting up in their bed, his bed, waiting for her.

'You're awake,' she said,
stupidly.

'I am awake.'

The tone sounded ominous to her,
a wave of anxiety travelled through her body. She didn't want an
argument with him, not now.

'I'm sorry that I took so long,
Levanin is a fascinating place. Belesdair was showing me more of it.'

He looked at her, the accusation
plain to see on his face. She had said the wrong thing.

'You don't have to lie to me, I
know you were with her. I know that she is trying to turn you against
me, I hoped it would not happen but her webs span far.'

The way he spoke of Alissandra
conjured up images of some bloated creature of malice, had she not
shown every kindness and courtesy? Why would El-Vador speak so poorly
of her?

'She has been nothing but honest
and caring towards me, I plan on seeing her again.'

Ella knew the words were
inflammatory but she felt a strange kinship with the woman she had
just visited and the man's opinion of her seemed vulgar at best.

'So she has got to you then, as
she does with everyone and everything else. I wish this could be
easier on you but I don't think it can be.'

He leapt up out of bed, the wound
didn't seem to slow him down. His hands clasped the sides of her hair
and she screamed more in shock than fright, she had no idea what was
happening or what he was saying.

'Your thoughts, give them to me.
I need your thoughts, they give me strength.'

Everything was wrong with what he
was saying, she tried to back away but his hands held her there in
thrall. She couldn't pull away without damaging her own neck, she
wasn't quite panicked enough to attempt that yet.

He planted his forehead against
hers with jarring impact, what was he going to do to her?

'I need to know what she has done
to you, even if I must take that by force.'

She felt her head splitting open,
her defences torn asunder and violated in a way she had never thought
possible. This caring man had transformed into a monstrous creature
sucking away at the insides of her head. She watched as fleeting
memories rose and fell in the churning pools of thought, watched as
he snatched at them frantically in search of some unknown answer.

All that she thought she knew of
him, everything that had once been apparent in spite of her cynicism
and weariness was now washed away. The cruelty of it was staggering,
her illusions of the man were exposed for the pathetic and vain hopes
they had always been. Whatever this thing truly was she knew she had
to get away from it.

The overpowering sensation ceased
and she found herself lying upon the bed, had he placed her there
while defiling her?

'I cannot see anything, I cannot
find what was done to you. Her webs are too strong, even for me.'

She wasn't paying attention to
his words, she was paralysed by a familiar fear.

He pinned her down mercilessly
and whispered almost gently in her ear. 'You are mine now.'

It was the last thing she
recalled.

A
lthough they
had split up, Hern could still send messages to Re'tak if necessary.
Relative silence was maintained in spite of this so as not to break
their concentration on the task at hand.

He had no doubts about the
monumental effort that would be required to do away with the
inhabitants of Greyhawk, anything less than perfection would result
in his death. He wouldn't have it any other way, if he was incapable
of dispatching of the fort with his own hands then he had no business
returning to Je'dara to challenge the masters.

It felt uncomfortably like
testing a muscle that had just recovered. Hern felt like he had been
fully healed but could he trust to Re'tak's mysterious methods? What
if his strength should give way at the key moment?

He pondered over their plan and
the potential shortcomings as he made his way inside the fort
unopposed.

Upon hearing the approaching
footsteps Hern compartmentalised his roving mind and heightened his
senses in concentration. There was only one guard, possibly coming to
relieve the other of a long shift. Hern was getting rusty, he didn't
usually let humanising thoughts slip out like that, it had been too
long since his last sanctioned exhumation.

It was fairly routine in the end,
the guard was never going to suspect an intruder and the element of
surprise combined with a well-timed chop saw the man sprawling to the
ground. Hern took his short sword and broke his neck, deciding not to
try and hide the body. Nobody would be alive in the morning to
stumble upon it.

He proceeded down the corridor
and gently pushed open the next door he came across, sneaking into
the pitch darkness and straining his ears. Nothing, not a trace of
breathing.

Hern smiled to himself, he had
started his murderous rampage by attacking a storage room.

The next door he came across was
locked from the inside, apparently whoever made this dusty corner
their abode had a healthy mistrust for their fellow man.

He worked his fingers around the
edges of the door, as he suspected they had decided not to tightly
fit it to the frame. Whoever had placed these doors had done so long
after the original construction of the fort, they were ill-suited to
preventing his entrance.