Ellas

Kane

‘Just after noon, you said?’ Jalholm asked.

‘Making small talk, Jalholm?’ I countered. ‘As if a man of learning such as yourself could forget a question answered not an hour ago.’

‘Nerves. Just nerves. What is it that you want of me when… when the time comes? You have not said, yet you must have asked me along for more than my great wit.’

I pondered his question, as I had thought on the very same question as I sat at the window through the night. I did not know why I had brought Jalholm. I just had.

Was it one of Anna's turning points? Had I somehow fulfilled one of her dreams by acting so? Would his being here change what was to come?

‘I really do not know,’ I answered, truthfully. ‘Although, truth be told, your company is a comfort.’

Jalholm's eyebrows raised.

‘No, truly. What comes frightens me more than perhaps I show. As you, I understand none of this. I do as I feel I must. But I am not comfortable with it, and I am—’

A movement below caught my eye, cutting off my words and all thought of what I was going to say next.

‘He is here,’ I said, as I watched Luke walk across the square below as if he owned the whole town.

His back was to me, but the arrogance in his bearing told me of the sneer that must be on his face.

No one crossed his path. Those that occupied the square, all stopped whatever they did. Some stared openly, but most looked down, looked away, looked anywhere rather than at the dark figure that walked in the midst.

He exuded terror, and even at my vantage, I felt it.

As if on cue, Jalholm said, ‘Is that him? Does he cause the chill and the dread that I feel?’

I didn't answer, I just watched the evil that had been the young boy, Luke. How I had let him down. He was what he was now because I had failed him. And today, I was here to put an end to him. But could I? Joined with my other self, I believe that we would defeat him. But could we kill him? Could we make an end of him? He was as I was, and I could not be killed. Long ago Anna had proven that beyond doubt. She had done her worst and yet still I survived.

‘He does what I did when I was Dar'cen's creature. No more, no less,’ I finally replied.

‘It will not be long now Jalholm. And I believe that I now know what it is I wish of you. But I will need to ponder on it for a few moments yet. Are you competent in the battle magics, Jalholm?’ I said, offhandedly as I turned from the window to face him.

Jalholm's face paled. ‘You wish me to join in the fight against… against him?’ His voice was quiet, subdued.

‘No,’ I said, emphatically. ‘I merely wish to know your skills in the more destructive magics. The fight will be mine… or should I say ours.’

I smiled at my own words, a thin, humourless smile.

‘Two against one, I suppose you could say. But even if I do need your help, Jalholm, you will be fine. You showed your courage when you stood against Dar'cen himself. No, I do not doubt you, Jalholm. Your reticence now is the nerves you spoke of, and the doubt that your mind takes on at the terror Luke projects throughout this town.

'It is a tool, a gift from Dar'cen. What he exudes cripples his intended long before a blow with even struck, and it ensures none dare to interfere or stand against him.

'But you have the strength to overcome what he does. Push it away, as you did when you stood against Dar'cen's will.’

Jalholm smiled, a weak yet genuine smile. ‘Thank you, Kane. Your words mean much. I will ready myself then… for whatever it is you wish of me.’

We fell silent again for a few moments. Below, Luke had gone now, and the people began to gather into small groups, chatting about the man all in black that had caused such a stir.

I knew that it wouldn't be long now, and I knew, too, that the other me was fast approaching. He might already be in the town.

‘I can't abide this waiting, Kane. It's far worse than the fear that gnaws at my innards.’

‘It will not be much longer, Jalholm. In fact, I think I'll watch from downstairs. You stay here. Pull the chair up to the window and watch. But mind you keep out of sight, his eyes are keen.’

‘But—’

‘No buts, I'll call when I want you, Jalholm,’ I said.

‘Yes, but how will I know what you want of me?’

‘Do nothing until I call, Jalholm,’ I said sternly, too sternly judging by the look of dismay on Jalholm's face.

‘Sorry, that was uncalled for. I truly still do not know what it is I want of you. But I am sure that I do not want you to intervene. I will need your aid, I somehow know that as a certainty. But this is my fight.’

I laughed again. ‘Our fight… Stay here. Watch, and do nothing until I say. Do not worry, when I call, you will hear me… I promise.’

I turned then and walked to the door, only stopping briefly to look at Jalholm and see the doubt disappeared from his face to be replaced by a hard resolve.

And then I was walking down the creaking wooden stairs, wondering what it was I was going to do, and how this day would end.

Only moments I waited, stood to the side of the open doorway to the Inn, watching the square, before Kane again reappeared from the wide street that led to the more affluent area of the town. He walked directly toward the Inn almost as if he knew I watched from there.

Over his shoulder, movement in the alleyway caught my eye. There, my other self, my earlier self, walked forward to stand in plain view.

My breath caught at the sight. I had lived this moment in reality from where he now stood, and I had seen it all as an observer in my minds eye. But now, I was here watching it all again from a different vantage. An observer and soon to be participant.

How would this all end? I asked myself again for the hundredth time this very day.

The people again parted, looked away, moved away, as amongst them, I, my earlier self, walked from the alley.

‘Luke!’ He called, his voice loud and commanding.

All heads turned to face him, all except Luke.

Hearing his name, Luke stopped, for an instant, I thought I saw confusion on his face, and then it was gone, replaced by a cruel sneer and a look of glee in his eyes.

‘Turn. Face me, coward,’ my other self shouted. I heard the words even as my mind replayed them, almost as if miming a long remembered song.

And then, as Luke turned, he, the other me, ran forward, knives already in flight, sword drawn and held high.

I could no longer see Luke's face, but still the look of glee and triumph that he wore that day filled my sight.

For an instant, I was back there, in my other body, charging toward Luke, seeing him, seeing the confidence and the sheer evil that emanated from his very being.

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I looked out from his eyes, as they flickered from side to side, looking for the other one that didn't come, looking for me as I stood hidden beside the doorway.

Then I was back.

They clashed, Luke blocking with ease the blow that I dealt, having already swatted my knives from the air as if they were as if they were harmless butterflies.

‘So you come to me,’ Luke laughed, as he effortlessly parried blow after blow.

‘The master wants you back, Kanteth,’ he spat. ‘Why, I do not know.’ The contempt in his voice was clear even from where I stood, thirty yards distant.

‘But who am I to question his will. I thank you for making this such an easy task for me,’ he gloated.

Only a moment had passed, and yet in that short time, I knew that my other self had all but exhausted his repertoire of swordplay.

Never had he, had I, faced anyone his equal, let alone so much his superior.

I saw the doubt in my eyes, saw the frantic darting of his eyes as he sought out the one that didn't come. And then Luke dealt his first cut.

Almost nonchalantly, he flicked his sword, to deliver a slash under his eye. A wicked cut, that instantly streamed blood.

In quick succession, he dealt another half dozen blows, each finding flesh, each coating his blade red with blood.

His laughter, cruel and bitter laughter, filled the now empty square; all had fled as soon as I had called him out.

It was time, I knew. Time that I should intervene. In only a moment, it would all be over. Strange, how at the time when I faced him, it seemed as though hours passed as I vainly struggled to best Luke, tried to keep him occupied as I prayed that my other self would arrive.

I took a step forward, hesitated. Should I do this? Should I dare to change that which had already taken place? I took another step.

I had perhaps only a few seconds now. Act or let it be?

My other self, raised his sword to defend against the blow that would cut him in half, and as Luke sword fell in its downward arc, I knew that that was the instant when my sword was broken, leaving only the hilt and mere inches of blade. I knew, too, that my time was up, and that I must act.

Time seemed to slow as I rushed forward. Though I ran, every step seemed to crawl by.

Almost as if in slow motion, I watched my other self fend off Luke's relentless blows with his ruined sword, while his other hand reached for the rod, his fingers stretched ready to press down and take him away from this place.

He did not see me as I approached – Luke was between us, and I remember how frantically I strove to escape under the onslaught of Luke's blows.

Then, as if in a dream, I remembered Luke's scream of rage as the desert had formed around me, and I knew that I would not change the future. I did not have to.

I still moved forward, almost on top of them now, and yet they were oblivious to me. Then I felt the surge of power that was the rod, and as my sword went through Luke's back and erupted through his chest, I heard again his scream. The scream of rage that I had heard... a scream of pain.

In an instant, my sword was out and swinging through the air, even as Luke turned, ducking as he did so in anticipation of the strike he was sure I would make.

But I had not gone for his head, instead my blade took off his sword arm at the elbow.

Again he screamed, as a knife appeared in his good hand. He struck with it like a snake, and despite his injury, he almost had me in the heart; only my last-second shift saved me.

Still the knife went deep into my shoulder, and he grinned as he saw my pain, and the knife twisted in his hand tearing my flesh and grinding bone.

My sword, almost useless in these close quarters, dropped to the floor and a knife appeared of its own volition in my hand.

Over and over, I thrust the knife into Luke. Into his chest, his stomach, and even into his neck, and yet, despite the damage I did to his body, he merely grinned.

The light in his eyes was that of a madman, boy though he was.

My one arm was useless, and when he finally withdrew his blade, I was almost powerless to stop him as he again drove it forward. My knife vanished as I grasped his wrist, stopping his knife mere inches from my face.

His grin widened as he gloated, ‘Now we are the same, you and I. I do not know what trickery you used upon me, but we are the same now, and I will again best you.

With all of my strength, I held his knife away from my face, but I could not force it back and the evil smile on his face told me that he knew I could not.

‘I thought you had escaped me,’ he said, with spittle running down his chin. ‘But you thought to trick me. And now I have you!’

Unbelievably, despite all the strength I possessed, his knife inched forward. There was little I could do to stop its motion – all my strength failed to hold it, and my right arm hung uselessly at my side.

I lunged to the left, and despite the blood that poured from the stump of his arm, his torso and his neck, Luke moved with me, his movements as agile and as graceful as a cat’s. ‘You are mine, Kanteth,’ he said. ‘I will deliver you back to our master and—’

A bar of white hot flame burned through his face, cutting off his words. And yet, though his face was a molten mass of flesh the knife still edged closer.

‘The arm, Jalholm!’ I shouted, as the horror in front of me let out an incomprehensible gurgle that I could have sworn was laughter.

I closed my mind to what I saw in front of me – the poor boy, Luke – but the smell of burning flesh almost made me vomit. And still the knife pressed forward.

Then, Luke was thrown backwards by some invisible force. So tight had I been gripping his arm, that I almost went with him.

In an instant, I was on him, hacking with my knife, while at the same time I screamed to Jalholm, ‘Get here! Burn him. Destroy his body completely!’

‘He is dead, Kane. There's no need to—’

‘Do as I say, Jalholm! Do it now. We have no time to discuss this.’

Jalholm's face was ashen as he stared first at me, and then at Luke's body that had my knife embedded he in his still burning forehead.

‘Do it, Jalholm. He is not dead. He never will be, but we can slow down his recovery. Do it, now!’

Slowly, the fingers of Jalholm's right-hand moved, almost as if he wrote in the air. A flame appeared in front of him, a flame that grew to a ball the size of a man's head.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the ball darted to Luke, engulfing him in flame from head to toe. With another gesture from Jalholm, the flame burnt white hot.

I stood and watched, my face hot with the proximity of the flames. ‘He will be back, Jalholm,’ I said. ‘He cannot die, that one. He is as I am. Slowly, he will reform.’

As the flames died down, I kicked at the fine particles of ash that remains.

‘Use your powers, Jalholm. Scatter his ashes on the wind,’ and when he turned a bewildered and questioning gaze upon me, I added, ‘It will be more difficult for him to reform, even with Dar'cen's aid.’

Jalholm stared at me, disbelief plain on his face.

‘Jalholm, I do not jest. As far as you can. Do it now, quickly. Dar'cen will already know of what has happened. We must be away from this place.’

I put my only functioning hand on his shoulder, shook him. ‘Now,’ I said, gently. ‘Then I will use the rod take us back to the horses. From there we will ride hard.’

Mention of Dar'cen seemed to energise Jalholm, for within seconds, a wind swirled around Luke's remains, blowing the fine, grey ash in all directions.

‘As far apart as you are able, Jalholm, and… thank you,’ I said, as I realised, if not for his intervention, the outcome would have been so very different.

With his hands moving in intricate patterns, Jalholm looked at me, obviously not understanding my words.

‘You saved me, Jalholm. You saved us all. I told you that this was my fight, but it it was you who made Luke's defeat possible. If you had not—’

‘What I did… that is not who I am,’ Jalholm said. He shook, and his hands stopped their weaving. ‘I… I am not a warrior, Kane.’

His voice was full of pain, and something else. Shame, I realised. Shame and loathing of what he had done, what I made him do.

I held out the rod to him. ‘Take it, I cannot hold it with both hands. Take us away from here. We will talk of what you feel… and who you now are, later.’

I saw the folk of Xrela watching from the edges of the the square, as the grasslands where our horses grazed came into view.

He would feel the rod being used, he would know that we had fled, and he would know, too, that Luke was scattered on the wind.

He had now no need to send his hordes to Xrela, and I prayed that he would leave them be.

But if not, I would have to live with yet even more guilt. What mattered was that Luke was no longer a threat. At least not for a while. A long while, I prayed.

Without Luke to worry on, our efforts could once more follow what the book, Alex and Sarah's book, dictated.

Unbelievable I thought. A book written by two children, from another world, has become the battle plan that we follow to save Ellas. Unbelievable.

#####

‘I did what you asked, Kane, but you cannot expect me to believe that Luke is not dead, and that somehow he will regain his body.’

We walked the horses side-by-side, letting them rest after what had been almost half a day of alternating between a gallop and slow trot to put as much distance between ourselves and Xrela as possible.

Dar'cen could not know where the rod had taken us, not since Jalholm had incorporated his travel hop adjustment, as he had termed it. But Dar'cen would have every creature at his disposal hunting for us.

Even now, after all these centuries apart from him, I could feel the fury that drove him. And it both terrified and pleased me.

That I could feel such a thing told me that we had indeed struck a blow and that was very telling. There was hope yet.

‘There was a time when I would have thought as you, Jalholm. But what I have said is true… Luke will return.’

‘But how? How is it possible, and how do you know is such a thing?’

I clenched my teeth as my mind touched on the memories that had almost driven me to madness. For an instant, I felt him again, inside me. I shook my head frantically, and forced my walls up as Anna had taught me. I will not remember. I will not!

‘What is wrong, Kane?’ Jalholm asked, concern in his voice. ‘Is it your arm? Does it get worse?’

I locked my walls firmly in place and took a deep breath before I turned to look Jalholm in the eye.

‘My arm is fine now, Jalholm. The pain is excruciating, but it heals, and I already have use of it… Your question caused my mind to visit memories that, long ago, I buried deep within myself. Memories of something that I never want to re-live.

'Only one other... well, perhaps two if you include Dar’cen himself, can recall that day. One other… and she is gone from this world.’

‘Anna?’ Jalholm asked, tentatively.

‘Yes, Anna. And I swore in her presence that I would never talk of that day… that I would never even think of that day again.’

‘I am sorry, Kane. I did not mean to cause you pain. I did not know—’

‘No, the fault is not yours, Jalholm,’ I said, kindly. ‘My words of Luke, of how he cannot be killed, opened the path to the questions you asked.’

I took another deep breath. ‘Even now, this talk threatens to pull down the walls that stand between my sanity and what happened that day.’

‘Then we must talk of it no more,’ Jalholm said, firmly.

‘Tell me instead of… tell me of Anna. Not of the war, not of Dar’cen... only of Anna herself. What she was like, and how you met?’