Free Escana by J. R. Karlsson Page B

morning hadn't happened. 'Why hello there lads,
enjoying the kegs are we?' He patted the side of the barrel, his
cheeks flushed with drink.
    Jimmy
groaned audibly, clearly this wasn't an isolated incident. Jakob felt
the same feeling of hatred mingled with disgust at having to deal
with this ugly little man again.
    'Are
you sure you haven't had enough to drink, father?' Jimmy said, though
from the sounds of things it was an entirely fruitless question.
    'Enough
to drink?' Gooseman shoved his flagon under the tap with a grin. 'Of
course I haven't had enough boy, I can still remember where I've
been!' he belted out the last bit so that everyone could hear and
received a round of cheers.
    It
had happened so quickly that Jakob barely caught it, he wasn't sure
if it had happened at all. For the briefest moment Gooseman's face
seemed to flicker from jest to something else. He wasn't entirely
sure what but his anger spiked wildly at having seen it. He felt a
sharp pain in the palm of his hands and found that his nails were
digging into his skin, he looked at them for a moment, anything to
take his mind off this repulsive creature.
    Jimmy's
remonstrations with his father seemed distant, whatever he was
supposed to do, Gooseman was connected to it. A wave of pain hit him
at the same time as a hand slamming down on his back. No, pain was
the wrong word to describe it, it was some kind of sickening mental
jolt.
    'You
have yourself a good night!' Gooseman drawled at him, staggering off
toward the opposite end of the pavilion.
    He
fought down the reflex to swing his clenched fists at the man and
felt his knees go weak. Whatever Gooseman had to with his finding The
Six, it wasn't positive.
    Jimmy
was at his side then, his face transformed from embarrassment to
concern. 'Jakob, what's wrong with you?'
    Jakob
waved him off and staggered toward a field, he doubled over and
started dry heaving. The other guests paid him no heed, assuming the
young lad had simply had too much to drink. Jimmy knew better and
refused to leave him alone.
    'Was
it the meat? You should have told me you weren't feeling well.'
    He
turned round to face Jimmy then and must have been unable to conceal
the murderous look in his eyes. He found his feet and ran off across
the fields, away from the pavilion and the people and the man who
brought this one sickeningly clear thought into his head. Harold
Gooseman had to die.

8
Jakob
    H is head
ached as the red mist started to recede from his vision. The
insistence of his own mind that he needed to end the innkeeper's life
was so graphic, yet without any rational motive Jakob found himself
incapable of carrying it out.
    He was running over fields once
again, head pounding with faint recollection, trying to escape from a
land he didn't belong in. He needed to find some way out, yet
everywhere he looked there was nowhere to go. He had thought his task
was going to be slaying powerful creatures or villainous rogues. The
idea of murdering a drunken innkeeper in cold blood didn't strike him
as overly heroic.
    A barn came looming out of the
darkness, he knew at best that Jimmy would be searching for him and
at worst that he'd have company. This seemed as good a place as any
to hide and reflect on what he'd just felt.
    He pulled at the door and was
surprised when it came free without any struggle, apparently
Harvester wasn't concerned about thieves tonight.
    The barn was pitch black and
Jakob proceeded with caution so as not to step on anything
unfortunate. He felt his foot touch a pile of hay and with searching
hands he clambered onto it.
    At least now he had time to think
if nothing else. The odds were stacked heavily against him it seemed,
he was so smitten with revulsion at his own murderous rage he
couldn't carry out a task that appeared to be mandatory. This was
assuming that his own feelings weren't at fault and the transition
from his world to this one hadn't caused any instability.
    A sharp pain lanced through his
skull as if