Sea of Dekatos

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“There is a raging sea within all of us, and only when that sea is calm can a man know true peace.” 

-- Sento of Yang

The rock held him underwater, but it was cupped in his hands and he could let go at any moment. Wentai let his legs float up behind him so that his body was horizontal. Around him stretched the vastness of the sea. Kelp waved in the currents like desert grass in the wind. Rocks littered the sea floor, an untold wealth of building material. Fish floated by, nibbling at tiny bits of food or nosing around the silt, searching for organic material. The sea was their city; he wondered what great civilization they might produce one day, if only they could develop the minds of men. 

Wentai flexed his stomach muscles and pulled his legs down, settling his feet on the sea floor and raising the stone in front of his chest. Above him, the interface of sea and air was a glittering sheet of silver.

The silt thinned as he walked up the gentle slope back toward the shore and movement became easier. With his well-trained lungs he had plenty of time, his breathing regular and relaxed as his head broke the surface. As the stone left the water, he grunted and readjusted his grip. Wentai carried the rock to his house, placing it atop the others. 

His house had but two walls so far, and they reached only to his shoulders, but his mind’s eye completed the structure and showed him a magnificent dwelling place filled with books and a roaring hearth. He would grow old there, reading, learning, finally putting onto paper his thoughts and experiences.  A blank book rested in an empty barrel, safe from the warm rains that blessed Char, and beside it a small brush made from camel’s hair. Through his writing he would share with others his thoughts on fishing, navigation, naval warfare, and the effect of the raging sea on men’s souls.  

In the distance, the city’s trumpets sounded. They only sounded for an attack or natural catastrophe. Since the signing of Sento’s treaty, no land armies had struck Char. Even as his hand took up his sword and slipped it into his belt, he looked to the sea but saw nothing except the quiet drift of fishing vessels and inactive warships of Char. The trumpets sounded again, from the desert side of the city.

Wentai ran behind his house and into the grove of trees where his chariot rested, a gift from the council of Char. This particular gift still had the strings attached, and they extended from the chariot to the hands of the three councilmen. Wentai had become a charioteer early on in life, even before he had finished growing. During his six years as a mariner, his time between voyages had been spent on land, training with the army of Char. Usually he had outmaneuvered and outfought his companions in the training engagements. The council had seen his potential and given him the chariot as a gift, at the same time making him swear an oath to use it to defend the city in times of need. In that way the skilled charioteers had their own vehicles and the city did not have to pay them each month for their services. The sound of the trumpet called such men to duty. 

Two camels were laying in the shade under the trees, still relaxed in spite of the continuing trumpet calls. They had long ago been acclimated to the sound of battle, and showed little interest in serving their city. A single shout from Wentai, however, brought them to their feet. He leaned over the heavy wood railing of the chariot, gripped it in his hands, and swung his legs over. A crack of his whip in the air was enough to get the animals moving. Char camels were fast, and the chariot’s bronze axles and bearings had been well crafted. They rushed over the landscape, hugging the hills even when the chariot moved sideways across the slopes. Dirt and pebbles were kicked out behind the wheels in a spray. Wentai crested another hill and saw what had made the trumpeters send their notes pealing into the air.

A massive desert serpent was in pursuit of a truly terrified man.

The man was moving faster than Wentai had ever seen anyone run. His legs pumped, his hands were balled into fists, every muscle in his body straining as he ran for his life. The desert serpent was bigger than the old legends had suggested. Easily three paces taller than its prey, with its tail it was over twice as long as a man. Heavy and scaled, the serpent had a mouth proportionately far larger than that of other snakes. The gaping mouth looked large enough to swallow a person whole. The snake moved fast for its size, gaining on the running man. 

In the space of a second Wentai played the tactics out in his mind. He could move in a straight line and intercept, but if he failed to kill the serpent on his first pass his chariot would rush by, moving in the opposite direction of the beast. There would be no time for a second pass. 

The alternative was to circle around, pulling up from behind, matching speeds with the serpent as he rode beside it. Normally this would have been his plan, but there was no time. The desert serpent was gaining, and the man would be dead by the time Wentai completed his circle. 

A pull on the reigns sent his camels veering to the left. The running man was aiming for the rear gates of the city where there were guards, but Wentai knew he would never make it. Wentai made minute adjustments to the course of the well-trained camels, and drove his chariot in between the serpent and its prey. With his right hand he drew his sword, slashing at the beast’s face. He had heard tales of serpent’s reflexes but was unprepared for the speed with which the beast yanked its scaled head back. Wentai’s blade cut air, his shoulder muscle complaining from the sharp exertion. A heartbeat later he rushed past, his chariot moving off on an angle.  

He brought his chariot around and craned his head back to watch the serpent. The beast caught up to the running man and lunged, sinking its massive jaws into his back and tossing him through the air. 

Cold rage swept through Wentai. He was a defender of Char, sworn to protect the city-state that had given him his life. He lined his chariot up and moved in, battle lust taking over his heart and making him into someone far harder and colder than the man he had been a moment earlier. 

The chariot thundered, its axles screeching as desert dust and sand slipped in between the moving parts. The camel’s hooves pounded loudly against the hard ground. Wentai raised his sword, planning a killing blow to finish it quickly. Just before he was within reach, the desert serpent twisted its body and snapped its tail, striking the chariot and overturning it.  As it flipped over, Wentai’s body seemed to know exactly how to respond. He pushed himself out of the chariot and tucked his sword against his chest to avoid impaling himself. His shoulder hit the ground first, and by instinct he pulled his legs in and rolled a few times, taking only bruises instead of broken bones. His sword had left only a shallow cut along his chest. 

A quick push with his hands against the ground put him back on his feet. The massive serpent was rounding the toppled chariot and coming toward him. Wentai spread his feet slightly, giving himself a firm stance, and held his blade before him. His eyes were locked on the approaching serpent. The desert beast stopped just out of range of his blade, towering over him. Dust settled around them, the movement picked up by his peripheral vision, his senses heightened like never before. Around them was silence; even the trumpeters stopped, their eyes glued onto the scene. Wentai’s body was motionless, every muscle tensed. For another moment the two stared at each other, a kind of serpentine intelligence in the awful green eyes of the beast.

A second later the serpent turned and slithered away, its body flexing in the undulating manner of snakes. Spearmen of Char ran over to Wentai and they watched the great serpent flee into the vastness of the Fractured Wastes. Minutes later it disappeared behind a field of splintered rocks and dunes.

The serpent had clearly been hunting that one man to the exclusion of all others. An examination of the body showed nothing out of the ordinary. Wentai wiped sweat out of his eyes and stared into the yellow and orange sands of the desert, lost in thought.