The Affinity III (standard:adventure, 3153 words)
Author: Ian Hobson	Added: Nov 03 2008	Views/Reads: 3862/2336	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Recap: Michael Collington, having inherited his grandfather's house, finds a letter that tells him where to find a sword with the power to propel him into another world, where he rediscovers his other identity: Lord Astavar. But soon after reacquainting

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'Rumba's,' she replied.  'The room where my brother sleeps.' 

'Rumba's bar?' 

'Yes.  When Rumba heard that you had been wounded fighting the
Oruka-men, he came for you and carried you here.  My master is Bralg, 
Rumba's nephew.  He gave permission for me to nurse you, after Manselte 
cut out the arrowhead.' 

'Manselte?'  I knew no physicians of that name. 

'The midwife.  Rumba thought that the arrowhead might be poisoned; there
was no time to find a doctor.  Someone suggested Manselte; she is 
skilled in more than just the birthing of children.  She cut out the 
arrowhead and found no sign of poison.  I prayed to the Gods that you 
would survive.' 

Talk of Gods made me think of Magalo.  I knew for sure then that he was
dead; he would have allowed no other but himself or Durabel to nurse 
me. 

Layana must have read my thoughts.  'The Oruka-men killed them both;
Magalo and Durabel.' 

'How long since?' I asked. 

'Nine days.  Rumba built their funeral pyre after two days, as is the
custom, and paid twenty women to weep for them.'  Layana took my hands 
in hers and I wept before falling asleep. 

6 – Miglio 

When I awoke, the room was in darkness and I could hear the soft rhythm
of someone sleeping close by.  I thought it must be Layana, but 
somewhere outside a cock crowed and then, as light began to filter into 
the room through the tiny window, I saw that it was Miglio, Rumba's 
bar-slave, sleeping on the floor beside me.  He woke and stretched, 
cat-like, before turning to look at me. 

'Master?' 

He seemed surprised that I was awake, but he returned my gaze with
unusual confidence for a slave, before hurrying out of the room.  
Moments later he returned carrying my sheathed sword, which he 
presented to me as though I was a great lord, and he a lowly servant.  
True, I carried the title of Lord, having been granted it by a grateful 
king many years before, and Miglio was just a slave; but the way he 
knelt before me, with arms outstretched and head bowed, revealed to me 
that the gods were once again weaving my fate, and the boy's too. 

'Thank you,' I said, taking my sword from his hands and sliding it out
of the sheath.  It is said that to be a true warrior you must have an 
affinity with your weapon of choice, and I most certainly had an 
affinity with my sword.  The newly sharpened blade shone brightly and 
carried no trace of Oruk blood.  'Is this your work?' I asked. 

'It was an honour, master.'  He smiled then, and with the strengthening
daylight entering the room there was a glint in his eye that made me 
certain that I was right. 

Most people believe that one incarnation must follow another, and that
there could not possibly be an overlap; but this is often untrue.  When 
first I walked amongst mortals, lording it over them as their god-king, 
my most loyal servant was Tokk.  I had promoted him to head bodyguard, 
above others who might have been more worthy, and he had shown me great 
loyalty.  It was Tokk who had railed at the gods after my banishment 
and forfeited his current life for doing so.  And now, once more, he 
knelt before me. 

I nodded at Miglio and put a hand on his shoulder as I got shakily to my
feet, before raising the sword to my lips and kissing the blade.   
Immediately I felt revitalised, and the pain in my back became just a 
dull ache.  'What of the Oruks?' I asked. 

He looked up at me and frowned before getting to his feet.  'Oruka-men? 
I did not see them, master.  Layana told me that they were few, and 
that they ran back into their tunnel after she raised the alarm and 
brought men onto the streets.  They left only the one that you killed, 
and the other that had lost a hand to your sword.' 

'He lives?' 

Miglio shook his head.  'The men questioned him.  He did not live long. 
Like the other, his body was cut open and left on the hillside for the 
dogs and the gulls.' 

Magalo would have approved, I thought, for a moment forgetting that this
boy who knelt before me was Magalo, and my faithful Tokk, in yet 
another incarnation.  'And the tunnel?'  I asked. 

'They say it was in one of the older cave dwellings.  An old woman
called Murug lived there.  She was found in her bed with her throat 
cut, and at the back, in her cold-store, there was a hole in the wall 
and a tunnel beyond.  By now it will have been sealed.  Some say 
that...'  Miglio looked unsure then, as though he might be saying too 
much. 

'Go on.'  I encouraged him. 

'Some say that you are to blame; that like your father, you will always
find trouble, or that trouble will find you.' 

I was forgetting that I too had undergone a reincarnation of sorts, and
that I was a young man again.  'True enough,' I said, 'and I suppose 
that some are demanding that I leave?' 

Miglio nodded.  'You must excuse me, master.  I have work.  I will tell
my sister that you are awake.' 

*** 

'I will sell you the boy if you wish,' said Rumba, as he poured me more
wine and then selected a green olive from amongst the food on the 
table.  'He is a slave and will have no say in the matter; but a 
willing slave is better than a reluctant one, and he will be reluctant 
to leave his sister.'  He bit into the olive and then spat the stone 
into the street. 

'He will come as a free man,' I replied, lifting my cup and sipping a
little of the wine.  'As will Layana, as I mean to buy her freedom 
too.' 

My host raised his eyebrows.  'My nephew may not wish to sell.  I can
train another bar-slave in a couple of days, but a sponge-girl with 
Layana's talents will not be so easy to replace.  How will you pay?  
The gold I took from the two Oruks will not be enough.' 

'They did not find all the gold,' I answered.  'Magalo had more than one
hiding place.'  When, two days before, I had retuned to Magalo's 
cave-dwelling, it still had the stink of the Oruks, and they had 
obviously searched thoroughly, smashing every stick of furniture and 
delving deep into any likely crack or crevice in the walls and floor.  
They had also smashed every one of the stone and terracotta pots in the 
ancestral chamber, spilling the ashes of Magalo's ancestors across the 
floor.  Though, thankfully, they had not discovered that the stone 
plinth, on which I had lain for almost four years, had a secret, and 
seamless, compartment that I myself had fashioned. It was in there that 
I had stashed a small hoard of gold and silver coin. 

'By all the gods!' exclaimed Rumba, with anger that hinted at his
feelings of guilt.  'To think that the sons of witches were able to 
kill Magalo.  Had he not been the worse for drink that night, they 
would never have got the better of him.' 

'I share the blame,' I said.  'If I had had my wits about me and not
gone in search of pleasure...' 

'You are young,' said Rumba, 'you think with your balls.  It was ever
so.  Even now, you intend taking the wench with you.'  He grinned at me 
before draining his cup and getting up from the table, shading his eyes 
against the bright sunlight as he looked towards the harbour.  'She is 
an old ship, the Kerree, but a good one.  Don't let that old bastard, 
Maffrai, cheat you.' 

'I won't,' I promised. 

7 – A Sea Voyage 

There was a storm on the way and strong south-westerly winds had begun
to whip the sea into a fury, sending all three of us below and out of 
the way of the crew as they climbed the shrouds, or hauled on ropes, to 
take in some of the sails.  Miglio was not a good sailor, but he had 
come with me willingly, as I knew he would. 

Layana too had come, surprised and grateful that I had bought her
freedom as well as her brother's.  I spent my days on deck, teaching 
Miglio to use a sword, and my nights in the cramped cabin I shared with 
Layana.  She had told me of how, on a sea voyage such as this one, her 
father, a wealthy merchant, had been murdered by the captain and crew, 
and how she, at the age of seven had been sold into slavery along with 
her brother. 

'What happened to your mother?' I had asked.  Tears formed in Layana's
eyes as she explained that her mother had agreed to become the wife of 
the ship's captain, under the threat of death to her two children.  
Over ten years had passed since then, and she had no idea if her mother 
was still alive, as they had been separated from her and sold into 
slavery soon after.  This explained how Layana, at only seventeen, 
seemed older than her years.  So it was in Layana that I put my trust, 
telling her the truth about my real age, and warning her that at any 
time I might fall into a deep, death-like sleep which could last for 
many days, even years, though that the latter was unlikely. 

We were twelve days into our voyage and well on our way to Litanlia, a
peninsula that thrust south from the great continent of Elluperra.  It 
was a country I knew well and longed to return to.  Lying well to the 
north and west of Elgypta, the climate there was more tolerable, and 
the countryside more verdant.   Maffrai, the captain of the Kerree, the 
two-masted cargo ship in which we were passengers, had told me he 
expected to reach our destination within three more days.  It would not 
be soon enough for Miglio.  One of the crew had slipped in his vomit in 
the passageway where he slept and then handed him a bucket and 
threatened to throw him overboard if it happened again. 

With the cabin lit by a single candle, I stretched out as best I could
on the cramped bunk, peeling the last of the bananas we had brought 
from Curab and sharing it with Layana.  'What if you were to fall 
asleep now?' she asked.  'Into one of your deep sleeps that lasts for 
days?' 

'Then you would have to say that I had a fever, and pay porters to carry
me off the ship.  Find a room for us, nothing too expensive.  Miglio 
would help.  I have told him that if ever I am wounded or ill, he must 
take good care of my sword and always stay close.  Do not worry, the 
gods may treat me cruelly at times, but they also watch over me.'  The 
Kerree rolled then as she was hit by a wave and, above the sound of the 
sea, we could hear rain beating against the side of the ship, and 
orders shouted above on deck. 

'Do they watch over you now, master?'  If Layana was frightened by the
storm, she did not show it and, in the candlelight, she looked truly 
beautiful. 

'Always,' I answered, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her
down onto the bunk.  'How many times do I have to tell you that you 
need not call me master?  If you cannot call me Astavar, then call me 
Asar.  It is the name my sister called me.  You remind me of her.' 

'I do?' 

'Yes, she was very beautiful.'  Layana kissed me then and, as the storm
raged about the ship, she undressed us both and reminded me that she 
wanted to be much more than a sister to me. 

*** 

As Layana shook me awake I saw that she was dressed and that Miglio,
looking pale and gaunt, stood beside her.  'What is it?' I asked, 
sleepily.  'Is the storm over?' 

'It is morning, master,' Miglio answered.  'The storm has passed, but
Captain Maffrai says you must come on deck at once; there is another 
ship.' 

I dressed quickly and hurried on deck into bright sunshine, stopping
only to relieve myself over the leeward side. The air smelt fresh and 
salty, and a south-westerly wind still blew. Above, on the aft mast, 
three of the ship's crew were struggling to untangle rigging and 
replace a broken spar, while Captain Maffrai stood beside the helmsman, 
with a telescope to his eye.  Following his line of sight, over the 
stern, I could clearly make out sail. 

'Two points to starboard!'  As the helmsman adjusted the Kerree's
course, Maffrai lowered his telescope and turned towards me.  'Lord 
Astavar.'  He handed me the telescope and I put it to my eye.  I had 
captained a ship myself once, a long time ago, but had not had the use 
of one of these ingenious devices.  It took a little time to find the 
ship in the lens, and to focus upon it, but as I did so the vessel 
leapt at me with surprising clarity; as did the flag that flew from the 
taller of its two masts. 

'Tirukshi?'  I was surprised.  The Tirukshi, though not warlike, were
used to defending themselves, and their flag flew from many castles in 
their lands, but at sea they were not usually a force to be reckoned 
with. 

'Privateers,' Captain Maffrai answered my puzzled expression.  'Since
the death of King Schtriku much has changed.  He had no male heir and 
his daughter, Schtelana, is now queen.  She has a lust for gold and 
other treasures, and has cobbled together a force of eight or ten 
ships.  They are all captained by scum, but in return for a share in 
their loot, Queen Schtelana allows them to fly her flag and gives them 
a safe port.' 

'Can we outrun them?'  I handed the telescope back Captain Maffrai.  He
looked aloft at the three crewmembers as one of them shouted a warning 
and then kicked the remains of the broken spar free, allowing it to 
fall towards the deck in a mass of tangled ropes. 

'With more sail, maybe, but the storm has already blown us off course
and we must tack soon or be blown too far north.  So be ready for a 
fight.'  Maffrai turned away to give more orders to his crew.  There 
were eighteen in all, not counting the cook; though if it came to a 
fight, every man would be needed.  So with Miglio, and myself, that was 
twenty-one; a number that Elgyptans considered to be lucky – but luck 
is a fickle companion. 

TO BE CONTINUED 


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