Martyn Vaughan - The Cave of Shadows

There was something both odd and yet oddly familiar about this person. And then Jon realised: he was seeing one of the mysterious women-things close up. That explained the odd mixture of familiarity and difference.

He could clearly see now why those distant figures hadn’t looked quite right; this person, although not far off Jon’s height, had a somewhat different structure to the main part of their body and, although clearly of the same basic plan as everybody else, it looked softer somehow and designed by someone who was very fond of curves.

However, there was one very striking difference and Jon wondered for a moment whether this poor unfortunate was suffering from some kind of deformity. From the central part of the chest there were two fleshy mounds sticking out in a basically horizontal plane. They were certainly most unusual and as the person came right up to him Jon decided to see if they were as firm as they looked and, reaching out, he grasped the two mounds and began to squeeze them.

After he picked himself up off the hard ground he rubbed the sore part of his chin for a while whilst glaring at the stranger.

‘Why did you hit me?’ he asked, somewhat plaintively.

‘Why did you touch me?’ the stranger replied, having stepped back slightly from grasping or striking distance.

‘I wanted to see if you were alright,’ Jon said and began rubbing his bruised chin again.

The newcomer shrugged. ‘I’m perfectly fine, no need to worry about me. But are you alright? I didn’t mean to hit you that hard – you startled me, that’s all.’

Jon felt that he was losing his hard-earned status somehow. ‘I’m fine too. I’ve been hit a lot harder than that. You took me by surprise, that’s all.’

The two stared at each other; eye to eye on nearly the same level.

Then finally the incomer spoke and her stony stare softened, ever so slightly.

‘Let’s start again. My name is Shana’, and she extended a hand.

‘And I’m Jon.’

Jon knew by now that he was meant to hold the hand and give it a quick shake, which he proceeded to do although he couldn’t see why doing this to a hand was fine but doing the same thing to a flesh-mound was not. The hand had a calloused palm and the grip was firm. Jon had thought that he had mastered the intricacies of social intercourse, but apparently he had not. Only one way to find out.

‘So to ask again – why did you hit me?’

And this time she gave a slight smile. ‘You didn’t ask. If you want to do that you must ask.’

‘Can I touch you?’

‘No.’

Jon looked skywards briefly. Time to move on.

‘So you are a – woman?’

‘I believe so. Although I’ve never met any others. I’m obviously different from you so I can only assume you’re not a woman.’

Jon mulled this over. This confirmed his suspicions that people came in two different types. Was there another type? he wondered, after all there were three types of kabarra.

He gave her another stare, at which she put a hand on one hip and assumed a pained expression. He noticed that she had an enormous sword hanging by her side. Why hadn’t he noticed that before?

‘You’ve had a bit of trouble, I see.’

‘Just a bit. But they won’t be giving anybody else any. I…’

She broke off and Jon turned around to see what she had noticed.

It was Jarz. He came rushing up, brushed past Jon, whom he totally ignored, and reached up to clasp Shana’s shoulder whilst giving her his broadest smile. She very gently removed his hand and stared down at him. She definitely didn’t like being touched, thought Jon.

‘My dear, my dear, it’s good to see you! Welcome, welcome to our little village!’

Shana extended a hand. ‘Thank you. I’m Shana.’

‘Yes, yes, I know. Shana12.’

She frowned slightly. ‘No, just Shana.’

‘My dear, you’ve only just arrived. There’s a lot you have to learn but I’m sure that an intelligent girl like you will have no trouble fitting in.’ At this point in his spiel he glanced back at Jon who was standing just behind him and to one side. ‘But there’s a slight problem.’

Shana’s frown grew slightly more evident. ‘Problem? I’ve only just arrived.’

‘Yes, yes. It’s nothing to worry about let me assure you. But you’ve come to the wrong part of our village.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, this is actually the part of the village that is reserved for men. You’ll have to go to the women’s village.’

Shana spent a few moments absorbing the implication of Jarz’s words: that she was not the only woman in the world. But then she looked up and said: ‘Why?’

‘Why? Well, my dear, it’s the way we do things here. I…’

‘I’m not your “dear”,’ Shana said, abruptly cutting him off in full flow, ‘I’ve come a very long way. I’ve killed a number of things that were trying to kill me. I’m tired. I want to rest. I have no intention of going to any other part of the village, however near that may be.’

Jarz looked completely dumbfounded. ‘But there’s no place for you to stay here. It’s’…

Shana turned from him to Jon, who had been standing there enjoying Jarz’s growing puzzlement and discomfort.

‘I’m sure Jon here will be able to put me up. Am I right Jon?’

Jon felt a strange electric tingle flash through his body at the thought of having company in his dwelling. For a moment he couldn’t form any words and then said ‘Yes. There’s room. Or I can make room, depending on how much you need.’

Shana smiled and the electric tingle returned to Jon, but stronger.

‘We can work something out. You don’t look like the kind of man who is easily discouraged.’

Jon felt then as if whatever Shana wanted he would do his best to provide. A small part of his mind whispered to him: You’ve only just met her. Why are you doing this?

But he ignored that very small part of his mind.

Jarz stepped between them, reserving his glare for Jon.

‘Don’t do this. It will not be at all liked by …’

‘Don’t say it,’ said Jon, raising a finger and placing it a very short distance from the tip of Jarz’s nose, ‘just don’t say it.’

Shana and Jon faced each other in his house with Jon marvelling how his guest seemed to have been poured onto the chair, while he was simply sitting stiffly on his. She had pulled a loose green blanket over her, for as the time of light drew on she had observed that it was distinctly colder than in the lands of her recent experience.

Jon was fascinated to hear of the Land from which she had come and on how nothing threatened any other thing but lived together in a harmonious world of warmth, plenty and gentleness. How different from my forest! he thought somewhat bitterly, as the memories of being stalked by the ferocious night predators came unpleasantly back into his mind. And the endless search for elusive kabarras. How wonderful it must be to simply dip one’s hand into the river and pull out a fat food fish!

As far as he could determine his guest had come from precisely the opposite direction to his. She knew nothing of the Lords of the Sands, from which Jon determined that their territory must be strictly limited in area and did not form an encircling ring around the hill. His eyes narrowed when she talked of Zarka and Akraz and the conundrums that they had forced her to confront, wishing he had been there to allow them to taste the bitter blackness of his sword.

She had just finished relating the final one that they had set her when a little light of devilment came into her eyes.

‘And what is the solution Jon? A worldly-wise person such as yourself must be able to grasp it at once.’