Anyway. What was written had something of the chant I associate with epic poems to it so I tried to carry a little of that flavour over. As I said, an experiment and as I've only just written it no real way to tell whether it's any good or not but here you go anyway.
You can read Henry Szabranski's (a man unreasonably obsessed with crabs) extrapolation of the same line, s'good, you should, here - CLICKY, CLICKY.
The Totem.
Four men poled the
barge. Four torches held aloft in the
twilight. Four of Atha's strongest slipping through the mist and
across black water. Between their feet and the dead-peat-water only a
collection of broken logs and twine.
Once they sang.
Sang
war songs to the shield beat of strong men. They sang no longer..
Atha Twisted Legs was dead. Atha who they had followed since they had
been children. Atha who had won their respect through wiles, not
force of arms. Atha, friend and king.
The lands of the
swamp people surrounded them. A people as brutal, treacherous and
poisonous, as their land. Had not Atha extended his hand in friendship?
Asked of them to join? To move together and banish darkness from the
land? How could Atha know that the swamp people have old ways, ways as
black as the bodies they left in the waters. The swamp people would
do ought to preserve those ways. They took Atha's hand, their
friendship gift had been poison and arrows.
Atha's dream of light
had died. The light within his men had died. The Ten People's dream
had fallen that dark day. Atha's strongest had been cast out. 'Why
did you not die in your place?' their women cried. 'Why did you not
die with our king?' their women cried. 'You have brought a curse upon
us,' their women cried.
The King of the
swamps sent his men out from the misted, wet lands. The darkness Atha
had fought spread a little further.
And Arna Strongheart
was ashamed.
And Leil the Smith
was ashamed.
And Dayl the Hot
Tempered was ashamed.
And Verun the Quick
was ashamed.
Together they swore
the death oath. To go to the shame tree in the swamplands and raise
the skull of Atha as their totem. To carry his light over the
darkwater. To end their lives trying to end the swamp king in the
service and company of their king and friend.
Four torches lit the twilight. Strange birds of the
swamplands called out their sadness. Far away, drifting over on the
stinking, thin, air the one note battle chants of the swamp people.
They found the place.
A raised branch emerging from the gloom, pointing up at a seldom seen
sky. Atha's strongest attached ropes and pulled the shame tree from
the depths of the swamp.
Heavy with black
water.
Thick with the stink
of death.
Branches raised
Twisted roots
dripping.
The shame tree stood
tall and proud from the water. Arna took his axe and split the bound
black wood. Inside was Atha shamed. His flesh leathered and tanned by
the peatwater.
'No,' said Arna
Strongheart and let his torch drop into the black water.
'No,' said Leil the
Smith and let his torch drop into the black water.
'No' said Dayl the
Hot Tempered and let his torch drop into the black water.
Only Verun the Quick
did not speak. He lifted his torch and stared at the ruined skull of
Atha. Smashed into a million pieces by swamp people clubs. Atha's
sagging blackened skin pierced with the feather magic of swamp people priests.
This skull could not be raised. This totem could not crown their
prow. Atha's strong spirit had been banished from his body.
But Veron the Quick
did not give his torch to the dark waters.
'Nothing escapes this
water,' he said. 'All is preserved, changed.' He lifted his torch. 'See?'
Arna Strongheart lit
a torch and he saw how the shame tree had thick branch-arms.
Leil the Smith lit
a torch and he saw how the shame tree had twisted root-legs.
Dayl the hot Tempered lit
a torch and he saw how the shame tree had blackened trunk-ribs.
'Here' said Verun the Quick, 'is our king. Trapped within the wood. Raise your axe once more Arna Strongheart.'
And then they took the
tree's skull. And they nailed it to the prow of their barge.
END.
P.S. Apologies for the generic fantasy names.
Dude. You spelled my name wrong. For this crime and others (not specified here), I must unleash the crustaceans upon your exceptional tresses.
ReplyDeleteOops. I shall fixify straightaway. Why can't you be called Smith? Eh?
ReplyDelete