Slow Turns The World (10 page)

The boot stroked his side, cruelly teasing, then kicked hard enough to send him rolling.  Torrin looked up into Kalor’s face to see a predatory, hungry look and a thin smile upon his lips.  Kalor’s fingers drummed silently against the sword hilt in its scabbard.

“Not so bold then?” he taunted. “Not so brave when you cannot sneak from behind?  So, do you dare fight me now?”

“I do not wish to fight any man,” said Torrin.

Kalor drew a dagger and then, swiftly and expertly, he threw it so that it pierced the decking between Torrin's outstretched arms.

“Take the knife,” he said.

Torrin rose slowly to face Kalor, leaving the weapon impaled in the floor.

“Take the knife.” Kalor repeated.  “It is your chance to live.  You could kill me, wouldn't you like to kill me?”  There was a sinister, seductive tone to his voice.

“I take no pleasure in killing any beast,” answered Torrin, “no matter how cruel and savage it might be.”

The curved sword slid from its scabbard and glinted in the shaft of light from the open hatch.  Kalor sent the blade whirling in a blaze of silver as he cut through the air between them, slashing an intricate pattern in the empty space with immense speed and skill.  The blade stopped and hovered at Torrin's throat, and then was slid back into the scabbard.

“Take up the knife,” said Kalor, “take it now while my sword is sheathed and I have no time to make a thrust.”

Torrin stood still and silent while Kalor laughed and turned his back on him, taunting and inviting him to take up the knife and strike.  He walked a few paces to the open hatch and then turned, framed in the daylight, to sneer at Torrin.

“As you wish.  There is less sport this way but...”

He drew the sword again.

“Kalor.” Valhad rose and now spoke.  “I know that you were not born an evil man.  I sense there is some dark torment within you that makes you angry.”

“You know nothing of me!” Kalor shouted furiously, but uncertainty flashed across his eyes and betrayed him.

“I have seen you, Kalor,” said Valhad in a calm, gentle voice.  “I have seen you watching the young sailors as they toil. A fire within you smoulders; some need that is denied.”

“Shut up, damn you!” Kalor blurted out. “Don't pretend you can read my mind.  I'll kill you both!”

He raised the curved blade and gazed furiously at the two men.  He saw their eyes widen and their mouths gasp.  These ragged hunters, who had dared to defy him, were not so brave after all.  Now, at last, there was fear on their faces and he felt a familiar surge of power burning within.  And yet, something was still not right.  They were not looking at him, but past him, at something else.  What fools they were to think he could be so easily tricked, and that he would turn his eyes away from them.  But something else was wrong, there was a darkening, a shadow cast upon them, that had not been there a moment before.  He dispelled the doubt and gripped the sword tighter.  It would not be quick for them; no single stabbing thrust but cuts and slashes to bleed them slowly.  There was a hiss behind him.

He turned, slowly, unwillingly, to meet the gaze of the black diamond eyes.  Long had the serpent swum; far from its native seas in relentless pursuit of its mate's slayer.   Through all the time it circled and watched the pitching vessel one image was etched upon its tiny obsessed brain; a figure clad in shimmering scale-like mail clutching a curved fang-shaped blade.

The serpent’s silver head filled the open hatch.  It tilted its gaze a little this way and that but never released Kalor from its dreadful stare.  He stood transfixed as the creature stretched slowly towards him.  A forked tongue tasted the air and then huge nostrils sniffed at Kalor.  For several long moments man and beast regarded each other.  Many times Kalor had reveled in the intoxicating power that surged within him before the killing thrust was made, but the eye that now looked into his was filled with a menace and malice that burned deeper and colder than any he could ever muster.  Then the head withdrew slowly back into the open air beyond the hatch, all the while watching Kalor with an unblinking stare.  It remained fixed in space as a sinuous body rose from the sea, curving like a scorpion’s tail, bending like a bow before the arrow flies.

The serpent struck with whip-like speed.  It lunged through the hatch, mouth gaping, rapier teeth bared and gleaming.  The head twisted sideways as it bore down upon Kalor and the jaws clamped shut around him.  Nightmarish sounds filled the chamber; the angry hiss of the serpent, the slither of scales on timber, Kalor’s dreadful agonised screams and the clatter of the curved sword that fell at Torrin's feet.   Kalor, now held horizontally in the beast's mouth, was carried back to the hatch.  There was a sickening noise of splintering bone as his legs and head impacted on the wooden frame.  The serpent surged forward, then back again, trying to force the body through the opening.  More bones shattered and cracked as the shrieks of its victim reached a hideous climax.  

The silver-scaled head writhed, twisted and lunged forward once more as the creature arched its body against the ship, braced for a final pull that would tear Kalor’s broken body through the hatch frame.   Torrin saw the sword at his feet and seemed to watch like some detached observer as his hand reached down to grasp it. The serpent slid towards him again, grotesque trophy clamped within its jaws and Torrin sprang to meet it.  He gripped the sword hilt with both hands and with all the strength he could muster brought the weapon down upon the outstretched neck.  The blade cut through, severed the head and embedded deeply in the timber floor.  A fountain of foul juices sprayed from the lashing body as it slid from the hatch and crashed into the sea; a pungent liquid that stung the eyes and tasted bitter on the lips.  The head remained with jaws clamped tight around the gurgling, pierced and broken body of Kalor.

Torrin could hear the urgent bustle of many approaching footsteps and the excited clamour of voices.  He left the treadmill chamber, taking a narrow stair down into the gloomy bilge of the ship, past the stacked sealed boxes in the hold and then up again to daylight and the sea-fresh.  He stood long at the balustrade, looking across the rising and falling humps of water while all around the ship buzzed with excited talk.   

Chapter 4

How bright is the light of truth which guided Him here; that drew Him hither, across many oceans.

The book of Tarcen. Ch. 1 V. 24

It took the efforts of several men to cast the serpent's head and Kalor's body into the sea.  They sank, locked together for all time, into the dark depths.   Torrin resumed his duties but seemed to cast some shadow upon the crew.  They became silent in his company, moved aside to let him pass, and did not look him in the eye.   He spoke of it to Trabbir, who told him:

“You cut the head from the serpent Torrin.  And now every man upon the ship fears you.   If you bade them take arms against the Captain they might do so, you have the greatest fortune that can be earned upon the sea.”

“Then they know nothing of hunting,” replied Torrin, “my blow was no greater than Kalor's when he killed the first serpent.  The jaws were clasped around prey and the muscles of the neck tight; that is why the blade cut through and any hunter knows this.”

“Maybe so.   But good fortune has come upon you.  Do well with it.”

They sailed onwards into the east.  The crimson disc of the sun crept lower to kiss the sea, which became as red as blood, while ahead darkness gathered.  Torrin was summoned to the Captain on the upper deck who regarded him curiously for a moment before speaking.

“You are to go below to His Lordship.  He would talk with you.”

Torrin was led down and ushered into a spacious cabin.  Glazed windows overlooked the stationary fins of the paddle and let the red sunlight stream in.  There were many leather bound books upon shelves that extended from floor to roof and a bed with fresh linen hung suspended from the rafters, rocking slowly.  Before him was a table strewn with more books and parchments and behind it sat the Lord, looking Torrin slowly up and down.  

“What is your tribe?” he asked.

“Vasagi.”

“Under what sun do you walk?  Where does it stand in the sky?”

“The setting sun.  The sun we see yonder.”

“You are from the south, Vasagi?”

“From far in the south.”

The Lord opened a book before him, the leather binding cracked and worn, the paper within crisp and yellow.  There were many pages of hand written text and fine drawings of men and women dressed in strange ways.   The Lord found the page he sought and read silently for a while.

“You hunt the type of buffalo called marianus, common in southern latitudes and also on the northern plains.  You are dependent on this one creature.”

“It is the barak.  That is its name.”

“Your tribe numbers about 300, chiefdom is hereditary, but only if the tribe, both men and women, approve the heir; unusual.  But, more interesting than this, you do not believe in God.   A tribe with no God?  Is this really so, Vasagi?”

“There is a Maker Of All Things.  Who made this world and many others, and whose work is never done.”

“And does he not watch over you still?”

“Perhaps.  Who can say?  It does not change the pattern of our lives.”

“So Vasagi, you do believe, but you do not worship, or make sacrifice?”

“If any king or chieftain demanded worship, or the sacrifice of living things, we would think him evil and unworthy.  Why should we judge God differently?”

“An interesting philosophical question, but probably best not asked.  Our more zealous theologians tend to employ crude methods of persuasion when reasoned argument fails.”

There was the faintest hint of a smile on the man’s lips as he spoke, as if he was enjoying his own small joke and some smugness that his sophisticated vocabulary left Torrin at a disadvantage.  The Lord leaned back in his chair, fingering the emblem that hung from the chain upon his chest, and looked to be musing over some decision.    Torrin studied the open book before him.

“You have much knowledge of our tribe,” he said.

The Lord nodded and spun the book gently around for Torrin to see more closely.  He could not read the text well for writing was an art of the pathfinder, not the hunter.  But there were fine illustrations of Vasagi men and women, of their spears and arrows, and their tented village.  There were maps too, to show their path around the world.

“This book was made long ago.  The world has turned three times since, and your people may not remember the wandering stranger who lodged and travelled with them for a moon or two.  It was made by priests of my order, who were sent forth to gather knowledge of the world.”

“Are you then priest or Lord?”

“I am his Holy Eminence Lord Vagis of Etoradom, Emissary of the Emperor High Priest, and Canon of the Sacred Order of the Lord's Servants.  In my land, where the will of God rules above all, lord, soldier and priest are one of the same.”

He paused for a moment and then lifted from a shelf beside him a globe and placed it on the table.

“Tell me, Vasagi, do you know what this is?”

Torrin shook his head.

“This is the world, Vasagi.   Do you see the southern continent, and the pattern of the coastline?  It is the same as shown here in the book, copied from the maps of your tribe; see the shape of land and sea?  This is the half of the world that now faces the sun.  Spin the globe around and there are the lands that are dark, and the sea that is frozen.  Now look again at the sunlit side.  Since you came aboard we have travelled from here to here.  Two moons to cross such a little space.   See how great is the work of your Maker of Things?   Do you see the line drawn around middle of the globe?  It marks the passage of the sun as it circles the world.”  

Torrin interrupted.  “The sun circles the world?  That is a strange notion.  Surely the world and the sun are fixed in their place.  It is the world turning slowly that seems to move the sun across the sky.”

 “You are a heathen person so your ignorance may be tolerated, but let me tell you, Vasagi, that where I come from there was a very wise man.  He plotted the course of sun and moons and was highly skilled in the art of numbers.  He pronounced that it was the world that circled around the sun, one revolution every fifteen moons.  He died a bad death Vasagi.”

“How so?”

“Heresy and blasphemy.   All truth is here, Vasagi, in the Text of God.”

He laid a hand upon another book with an elaborate illuminated binding.

“Here is all wisdom and all truth.  Here is told how the world and the sun and the moons are ordered.  When we journey to my land, or come upon my people, it is not wise to speak of your Godless ways, or your ignorance of the Truth.”

“I shall remember it well.  What is your land, where does it lie?”

“Etoradom is my country.  The land that crowns the world; the land of the northern pole.  Blessed forever by God to be lit and warmed by the sun.  We are the chosen ark of truth.  We must bring light to a dark world.  We are blessed in this work and now you too might be so honoured as to serve us.”

“What do you want of me?”

“What do you most want for yourself, Vasagi?”

“To return to my tribe, and to my wife.”

“But you belong to the ship.  You will not be released until you are old, too old to serve, and too old to travel the world seeking your people.”

Torrin stood silent.  The Lord spoke again.

“My servant and protector has met with misfortune.  Another must take his place.”

Torrin interrupted and spoke sternly.  

“I am not a hunter of men.  I slay only beasts for food and skins.  This is not work that I will do.”

“Vasagi, in Etoradom I could choose from a hundred men who would be honoured to serve me, but we are far from home in a ship of thieves, murderers and brigands.  God has delivered you upon this ship to serve me.”

“I will do no murder, for you or your God.”

“I never needed Kalor to kill any man Vasagi.  And you will not need to, unless there is a threat against me.  You are a deterrent, that is all, a strong tall warrior bearing a sharp sword.”  The smug half smile crossed his face again as he added, “It is sufficient usually only to scowl and sneer a little.”