Hangman Chapter 12

Chapter 12-

Gallow sat by the water’s edge, wringing the water out of his socks, both his boots cast off to his side as Gideon exposited to him.

“The reason I’ve arrived in this town is nothing to do with you, Mr Clarke.”

Gallow sneered at the mention of his old name, but said nothing. “Better to let him enjoy his high horse, as usual,” he thought.

“Within the last six months, there has been a noticeable uptick in disturbances in the Southwest region.” He paused a moment.

“Four towns, similar in size and affluence to this one, have all been victims of massacres.”

“Massacres?” Gallow asked in disbelief. “I haven’t heard anything about that, and I was all over here.”

Gideon squinted his eyes at the younger man. “You might have overestimated your pace,” he said with a hint of haughtiness in his voice. “Besides,” he continued, “news travels pretty slow around here, especially across towns like this, which may as well be in a different country as far as the railroad is concerned.”

It was long held in the popular consciousness that the people of the Southwest lived in the boonies of Andeidra. In the major Eastern cities, the Southwestern accent was often used as the go-to “hick voice” amongst those who fancied themselves as humorous. Major Southern cities like Fenway, which had been fortunate enough to benefit from the national railroad system, produced more “refined” peoples who were begrudgingly afforded respect by the traditional elite regionaries. Gideon’s comment didn’t hurt Gallow, who had been born and raised in the Central Eastern city of Pettma, but it did sting the heart of the young Janna, who sat several feet away behind brush.

“In any event,” Gideon returned to his objective. “Each town victimized was levelled completely, and within an hour or less, according to the few survivors of each attack.”

“Alright, and why are you telling me about this?” Gallow snarked.

“This is a reconnaissance assignment,” Gideon answered curtly. “I’ve stopped at six towns already for information, meeting you was a bit of an irregularity.”

Gallow looked about at the quite literally mythical environment which abounded them.

“What was at those other towns, then?”

“Seeing as this is news to you, I’m assuming that you don’t know anything useful about it?” Gideon continued.

“Naw, I’m not too interested in it unless it’s coming here, so I just need to know what they look like.”

Gideon’s face tensed with disapproval. “After all these years,” he thought, “he’s still only looking out for himself… I suppose the desert will do that to you…”

The displeasure left his face again, and any hint of it was absent from his informative response.

“There have been two survivors so far, one from Havvan and the other from Tiffal, the former described leaving his house at the commotion, only to find that fires had begun at several different locations around town-”

“Oh,” Gallow interjected, snapping his finger at the realization. “There was a guy who could set fires with these flowers, his name was Fiemma-something…” his voice trailed off before he returned to his initial point. “Yeah I took care of him a few weeks ago.”

Gideon, annoyed at being cut off, gave a cool glare and continued his explanation.

“Both witnesses described there being reports of three to four men, ages ranging from about their early to late twenties, two or three whites, one native for sure.”

“Anything else to look out for?” Gallow’s question came lazily.

“The only standout feature of any of the attackers was the leader, he appeared to have an odd eyepatch, and his hair was a strange color.”

“And what would that be?”

“Apparently blond, though it was black at the ends, as if it were burnt.”

Gallow’s lackadaisical demeanor was shattered. His eyes suddenly focused intently on Gideon; the change was so abrupt and palpable it almost took the captain aback.

“Are you sure about that?” Gallow’s voice was stonily serious.

“Only as certain as the witness.”

…

……

………

Gallow sighed and briefly cast his gaze downward before leaping to his feet. He breathed in the immaculately fresh air and placed his hat back on top of his head.

“Tomorrow we can go hunting.”

“S-sorry?!” Gideon spat.

“I want to organize a search for these ‘villains.’” Gallow’s posture was upright, but relaxed, powerful and confident; this was the way forward, it was sparkling in his eyes. Janna, still watching from afar, had never seen anyone with such an inspired shimmer.

Gideon grimaced.

“You can do whatever you want, but if you aren’t going to help me, then I might take you back to the army court general for desertion.”

Gallow smiled and replied, “I am trying to help you, Captain Gideon. The leader of these men is an old friend of mine.”

“What?!” Gideon cried. “You know that man?”

“Supposedly.” Gallow said with a hint of sarcasm. “But not as he is now.”

Gideon’s face again twisted into confusion and annoyance. “I don’t know what you mean by any of this,” he began. “But I’m not looking to facilitate any stupid reunion between you two.” He sighed for a moment and continued. “Look, if you could just stay put for the time being, at least until I’ve left.”

“Fine by me, I don’t mind you leave now, as a matter of fact.”

“If I could cut into your lover’s quarrel,” the native woman interjected.

They both turned their attention to her, surprised. She spoke calmly, as before, and had been biding her time until now.

“I hope you realize that you’re standing exactly where those men are planning to take.”

Suddenly, Gallow remembered Malvado’s objective, when he had first entered Sigrit.

“The Spring…someone attacked here before, looking for it,” he explained.

Gideon’s eyes lit up. “You mean that this is their goal?” he asked, excitedly.

“I think so, that’s what he said,” Gallow replied.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Gideon could barely contain his excitement. “This is excellent, this is great, stupendous.” His mind was racing anticipating the adrenaline of battle, it had been a few years since he’d seen true combat.

“Can I ask,” Gallow began. “Exactly why you’re here?” He directed the question to the woman standing between them.

She gave him a curious look, as if her presence was self-explanatory.

“My name is Sonsee-array, I come from the Atamape people.”

At the mention of her tribe, Gideon flinched. “Wasn’t that…?” he seemed uncomfortable asking the question.

“We were slaughtered by the military of this country,” she finished for him. “My brother and I were the only survivors of the attack.”

As she spoke, her eyes seemed to grow distant as she recalled what must have been painful memories. It seemed as though she was unprepared for the topic to arise herself.

“So why is someone like you helping the military?” Gallow questioned suspiciously.

“Captain Gideon didn’t commit the act,” she answered curtly. “He simply requested a guide who was familiar with the area, and I agreed to help.” She paused for a moment. “I haven’t forgiven the people who did this to me, but I see no reason to be hateful.

“Besides,” she continued. “I wanted to find this place as well.”

“What’s this place to you?” Gallow asked, looking off out into the distance.

“My people told me stories, about this Garden, where there was no war and the waters could heal any ailment.” She took several steps towards the riverbank, and dipped her hands into it.

“That story was from several generations ago; it was believed that this placed would move every few lifetimes. It seems that it’s made its stop here for now.”

“And how were you so sure that you’d find it?”

Sonsee smiled and looked down at Gallow’s hand. He noticed the movement of her eyes and looked at the sigil on his hand.

“When you found me in the desert, some time ago, I gave you that gift. It’s our people’s symbol for The Navigator.”

His eyes widened, having finally understood the significance of the marking. “Then you mean-?”

“Yes,” she answered. “In a way, I knew that you’d be led to this place, and judging from the time you spent down under there, it was a success. If I could just track you down as well, then I’d find it inevitably. That’s like a contract with fate, eventually, everything will fall right into place.”

Gallow had never been one to believe in fate, and his conversation with the Spirit hadn’t cleared anything up. Hearing it stated in such blunt and matter-of-fact terms caused him to take pause, her words hung in his mind for a moment.

“Everything will fall right into place?”

There was a shimmer of hope in that statement, a shimmer to join his own feeling of high after discovering that Warren was near. A calmness was distilled in him.

“Alright, Gideon,” he turned to the Captain. “I’ll stay put for now, but you should know that it isn’t because of your order.”

Gideon laughed, “Why would I expect you to follow orders so suddenly?”