within unblinking discs of gold. It lunged towards them across the ice, body snaking and twisting, a predator’s gaze fixed upon them. The jaws opened and made a hideous cavern as tall as a man, framed by rapier fangs still flecked red with the blood and gristle of Grelle.
Torrin leapt to one side, Valhad to the other, rolling and skittering on the cold hard surface. As Torrin sprung to his feet he threw the spear and pierced the scales below the serpent's eye. The beast shook its head and sent the spear flying; only a small wound was left leaking. It did not make another lunge, but hissed menacingly and focussed its dreadful eyes on Torrin. It regarded him with chill intent before slipping backwards into the churning water. They made the last dash and leapt onto the iceberg.
“To the top, climb to the top!” Shouted Torrin.
They scrambled up struggling and slipping as once again the ice burst open beneath them and the serpent reared up, jaws snapping shut just below their frantic, scrabbling feet. The iceberg juddered as a second silver head erupted upwards, as another beast joined the attack. The two huge serpents lay glistening on the iceberg, bodies convulsing, jaws snapping and biting upon the air.
Torrin and Valhad scrambled to the top and watched in horror as again and again the creatures hurled themselves against the frozen slope, fangs gouging and tearing at the buttress of ice, in enraged frenzy. They felt the iceberg lurch under the violence of the attack, and then begin to bob upon the water, as it broke free from the pack ice of the bay. The island refuge drifted slowly out into the channel, past the laughing jeering Ummakil. The serpents slid into the water, circling round them, often lifting their heads to hiss and bite the air. Distantly, already growing smaller, were the Vasagi. They could discern three figures stood together; Perrith, with Casan and Turnal at his side. The tribe was safe and nothing else mattered; the Vasagi had crossed the waters to find their ancient path again. Then Torrin saw, stood upon the far headland, a single figure that held a little bundle in the air and, as distant as it was, he saw the tiny moving limbs. He knew it was Varna, and that she held their newborn child. She grew smaller, a dwindling detail on a far shore that vanished and was gone. They drifted onwards towards the open sea, the land shrinking, diminishing, until there was only water all around them.
Chapter 3
Tide and tempest and even the greatest beasts of the sea carried Him hither and surrendered to His command.
The book of Tarcen. Ch. 1 V. 8
They did not drift alone. Around them circled two bow waves as the serpents stalked and bided their time. Now and then a flash of scales and a blinking reptilian eye broke surface before sinking beneath the waves again. Balanced on their tiny bobbing island, they shifted from sitting to crouching or standing, but always some part of them was chilled against the ice. They would have been much colder if the wind had not been blowing from the warm lands of the north. No, thought Torrin, they would not die by freezing; he watched trickles of water carving runnels and grooves in the ice. No, not by freezing, but by the slow melting of the berg until it offered no sanctuary from the waiting beasts. With luck, they might starve to death first; that was a small consolation that allowed him a brief, bitter smile. Valhad had been watching the water intently for some time.
“There are fish, Torrin.”
Torrin looked down into the clear water and glimpsed a darting silver shape.
“Do you have a hook?” Valhad asked eagerly.
“Valhad,” said Torrin, and then paused as his eyes met those of the younger man.
“Valhad, what do you know of this sea?”
“It is called the Carthasan. Perrith says the name comes from another tongue and means greatest.”
“Aye. So it
Torrin leapt to one side, Valhad to the other, rolling and skittering on the cold hard surface. As Torrin sprung to his feet he threw the spear and pierced the scales below the serpent's eye. The beast shook its head and sent the spear flying; only a small wound was left leaking. It did not make another lunge, but hissed menacingly and focussed its dreadful eyes on Torrin. It regarded him with chill intent before slipping backwards into the churning water. They made the last dash and leapt onto the iceberg.
“To the top, climb to the top!” Shouted Torrin.
They scrambled up struggling and slipping as once again the ice burst open beneath them and the serpent reared up, jaws snapping shut just below their frantic, scrabbling feet. The iceberg juddered as a second silver head erupted upwards, as another beast joined the attack. The two huge serpents lay glistening on the iceberg, bodies convulsing, jaws snapping and biting upon the air.
Torrin and Valhad scrambled to the top and watched in horror as again and again the creatures hurled themselves against the frozen slope, fangs gouging and tearing at the buttress of ice, in enraged frenzy. They felt the iceberg lurch under the violence of the attack, and then begin to bob upon the water, as it broke free from the pack ice of the bay. The island refuge drifted slowly out into the channel, past the laughing jeering Ummakil. The serpents slid into the water, circling round them, often lifting their heads to hiss and bite the air. Distantly, already growing smaller, were the Vasagi. They could discern three figures stood together; Perrith, with Casan and Turnal at his side. The tribe was safe and nothing else mattered; the Vasagi had crossed the waters to find their ancient path again. Then Torrin saw, stood upon the far headland, a single figure that held a little bundle in the air and, as distant as it was, he saw the tiny moving limbs. He knew it was Varna, and that she held their newborn child. She grew smaller, a dwindling detail on a far shore that vanished and was gone. They drifted onwards towards the open sea, the land shrinking, diminishing, until there was only water all around them.
Chapter 3
Tide and tempest and even the greatest beasts of the sea carried Him hither and surrendered to His command.
The book of Tarcen. Ch. 1 V. 8
They did not drift alone. Around them circled two bow waves as the serpents stalked and bided their time. Now and then a flash of scales and a blinking reptilian eye broke surface before sinking beneath the waves again. Balanced on their tiny bobbing island, they shifted from sitting to crouching or standing, but always some part of them was chilled against the ice. They would have been much colder if the wind had not been blowing from the warm lands of the north. No, thought Torrin, they would not die by freezing; he watched trickles of water carving runnels and grooves in the ice. No, not by freezing, but by the slow melting of the berg until it offered no sanctuary from the waiting beasts. With luck, they might starve to death first; that was a small consolation that allowed him a brief, bitter smile. Valhad had been watching the water intently for some time.
“There are fish, Torrin.”
Torrin looked down into the clear water and glimpsed a darting silver shape.
“Do you have a hook?” Valhad asked eagerly.
“Valhad,” said Torrin, and then paused as his eyes met those of the younger man.
“Valhad, what do you know of this sea?”
“It is called the Carthasan. Perrith says the name comes from another tongue and means greatest.”
“Aye. So it
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