The White City



  Nothing Darker Than The Light

  Nil luce obscurius.

  Isaac Newton

  volume one

  The White City

  Philip Matthews

  Copyright Philip Matthews 2014

  ISBN 9781311027979

  ‘Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the whole horizon? What did we do when we unbound this earth from the sun? Where does it move now? Where do we move? Does not the night and only the night come constantly on?...’

  Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science.

  Chapter One

  Fearfully, Korkungal parted the tall grass and stared across the headland with growing disbelief. Behind him, old Kandrigi hissed excitedly:

  ‘Do you believe me now? Did I not tell you about this place?’

  Korkungal shook his head impatiently and motioned with his hand for Kandrigi to be quiet. The old priest mumbled complainingly, then fell silent. He fingered the edge of his cloak – a sure sign that he was agitated – and consoled himself with the thought that no matter how long Korkungal stared at the Ka, he would never learn as much as he himself knew about the place.

  Suddenly Korkungal slithered back down to join him. He was grinning foolishly. Cocking his head to one side, he asked:

  ‘Is it a farm?’

  It was Kandrigi’s turn to be impatient:

  ‘No, it is not.’ He sighed. ‘Korkungal, I have told you many times about this place. Do you not remember my words?’

  Korkungal grinned again, a glint of cunning hardening his blue eyes: ‘I did not believe you, old man.’

  Kandrigi snorted in exasperation:

  ‘You are like a child, Korkungal, you will believe nothing you are told.’

  Korkungal’s face contorted with quick anger. His battle-hand clenched and unclenched rapidly. Kandrigi reacted hurriedly to this familiar expression of warrior-rage, but he nonetheless managed to remain dignified:

  ‘Never be angry with the truth, Korkungal, for it is better to be a child than a fool.’

  The sweetness of the words soothed Korkungal’s fighting blood; the wisdom passed over his head. He was intimidated by the old priest’s knowledge, he lowered his face in mock-shame and said:

  ‘Tell me again, Kandrigi, and I will listen and believe.’

  Kandrigi sniffed and pulled his stained cloak closer about his thin body:

  ‘Very well, come and sit closer to me, so that I can be sure of your attention.’

  Obediently, Korkungal shifted his thick bulk and sat on his feet before him.

  ‘It is not a farm, Korkungal,’ Kandrigi began rhetorically, ‘nor is it like any dwelling of our race. It is not a king’s palace, though it contains the wealth of a powerful king. It is not the fortress of a bandit tribe from the East, for it is too comely and agreeable to the senses. It is not a harbour of the Bir Karsh of the North, our enemy, though it is close by the sea and ships beach at its foot, for these people are not dark and hairy. In all, it is not many things, some of which you know, many of which you do not know: they are not of the races of the Inland Sea, nor cattle men, as we are, nor mere fishers of the sea and rivers, nor timber men, nor diggers after metals...’

  At this point Korkungal raised his head and shot a burning glance of impatience at the contented Kandrigi:

  ‘Tell me what they are, Kandrigi, before my brain melts through trying to understand the meaning of not-being. I am a warrior, not a player-with-words.’

  Kandrigi made a sour face and pulled his cloak more tightly about him.

  ‘I will tell you, Korkungal, of how I found this place,’ he said in a stronger voice. ‘As a young man I decided to visit the land where the world ends, it being then a country of great curiosity to me, though I had heard but little concerning it. I set out from Ullenbrig, our homeland, in early spring and went through the lands of our races following the old tracks and seeking the advice and wisdom of the priests on the way. I travelled many months, protected by the Grace of the Goddess, until I passed into the country of the Savages. I listened to their legends as best I could, for their language is strange and trying on the ears. They told me of a great sea that covers the world to the West and of huge monsters that dwell in its waters. The Savages warned me not to cross it, for, as they said, this sea has no end, except where it meets the sun and boils eternally. But I did not believe this, for the Savages are a rude people, steeped in curious superstitions.

  ‘I walked on across the plains, fording great rivers and bypassing broad lakes, until I reached the sea’s edge. I could find no boats there, nor men willing to build me one. But I did hear of a majestic race to the south, who sailed this sea, and so I decided I would go to them and seek their help...’

  Again Korkungal interrupted the garrulous priest with a mean look.

  'What of this place, old man?’ he said shortly, pointing over the grass.

  Kandrigi made an expression of pain: storytelling was like a journey in a storm when a warrior was the audience. He preferred old kings and young men.

  ‘Patience, Korkungal, for I am about to tell you. I walked a great distance along the sea’s edge, sleeping at night in a hollow in the sand and eating shellfish and berries. I was strong in my walking, for I had great hopes of this sea people. Then one day I sighted a big boat not far from the shore, with many oars and a tall blue sail, and I saw that it was headed in towards a point on the coast not far away. I hurried over the sand, striving to keep pace with the boat, but I tired as the day wore on and it sailed on out of my sight. That night my sleep was troubled by excitement. On the morrow, I knew, I would at last reach their settlement. And when I saw it, after walking for not more than an hour, I was struck down with amazement. I had never before seen nor had I ever conceived in my youthful phantasies, such a sight.’

  In memory of the event, Kandrigi glowed with wonder.

  ‘You, too, Korkungal, have seen this sight. Do you not feel wonder and awe?’

  Korkungal glowered. ‘You have told me nothing yet, old man,’ he said threateningly.

  Happy in his wonder, Kandrigi ignored this.

  ‘But do not the great white walls of stone strike you with awe, Korkungal? Their immense proportions?’

  Korkungal resented Kandrigi’s attempt to induce awe in him. It was a feeling more like terror than love to him. His training demanded that the feeling of awe be reduced to a level his warrior-strength and weapons could deal with.

  ‘Are the inhabitants warlike? What weapons do they use? What stratagems?’ His voice had all the gruffness of a man used to dealing with practical affairs.

  ‘Korkungal, they do not carry weapons, nor will they allow strangers carry weapons in their Ka.’ The old priest was bubbling over with inward joy.

  The seasoned warrior was incredulous: ‘They are unarmed?’

  ‘Oh, they have arms, but they are stored away until they are needed. They do not appear to like wars or any kind of fighting. Yet I have seen their battle-boats and believe me, Korkungal, they are vessels of great power and daring.’

  Korkungal stared at Kandrigi for some time, his mind busy. They were now dealing with matters he could readily understand. Finally he spoke:

  ‘Kandrigi, I will not go into this place, this Ka, as you call it, without my weapons. I trust no man, this I have learned from experience. I do not know why we have trekked across such great distances, though I suspect you have a reason, one you are not willing to tell me. I have come with you to protect you, for it is my duty to protect my priest against any danger. You say that the inhabitants of this Ka are peaceful, but perhaps time has changed this and has made them defensive and suspicious of strangers.’

  ‘Do not seek trouble like this, Korkungal. This race of men of very ancient lineage and do not chan
ge like the wind. I ask you to leave your weapons here, wrapped in your sleeping-skin, and come with me in trust to the Ka.’

  Korkungal was stubborn: ‘No, So long as I do not understand I will not lay down my arms.’

  Kandrigi sighed.

  ‘Oh, very well, Korkungal, I will tell you what is proper for your profane ears. But I will first of all tell you something of the people or the Ka. There are many slaves, of many races and skin hues – though Lamla the Yellow Priest of the Temple of the Great Mother told me that they were not slaves, I did not believe him – and they are ruled over by a regal race of tall men, who have bright, burning bodies. When I first arrived in the Ka, I was ignored by the inhabitants and I wandered amongst the dwellings and storehouses until I chanced upon the Temple.

  ‘I was curious, for it is a mighty structure made of gigantic blocks of stones and I climbed the steps and entered. The interior was in darkness, except for a flickering light away in the distance. I heard singing – Korkungal, what singing it was, that ineffable harmony I heard sung there for the greater glory of the Mother. Helpless with joy and gladness, I fell on my knees and worshipped She whose grace guides us through life. Then some men came and led me out of the Temple and brought me before one of the Burning Ones. He did not understand my speech, nor I his. He went away and presently returned with two others, one a man with the yellow skin of a sick man, though I was assured later that such a hue was proper to his race, which originates at the far end of the earth, and the other was much like you and I, with red hair and fair skin. But again I could not understand the tongues of these men, though that of the red-haired man was distantly related to the language we speak. Then I saw the sign the yellow man wore on his cloak and I recognised it as a symbol of the Great Mother. I traced it in the dust and at once he went into the Temple and returned with a large clay tablet which was covered with many secret symbols of the Mother, most of which I knew.

  ‘We spoke for hours together through the secret language of the Mother, and though I had little to tell him other than my curiosity regarding the lands of the West, he imparted a great amount of knowledge to me. I remember it all, even after all these years. But though I can repeat many sayings of great wisdom and many spells of great potency, I am no nearer to understanding them now that I was when I first heard them. They have words which have no meaning in our language. They explain going on water and going in the air, moving things and causing things to happen far away... I will never understand them.

  ‘I stayed with them for many months and lost my desire to travel to where the sun sets. As time passed I grew homesick for Ullenbrig and became curious to know what was happening among my people. I told Lamla the Yellow Priest this and he understood and told me to return to my home. The Burning Ones gave me food and gifts, one of which is the bright sword you now carry, Korkungal, and as I left Lamla told me to return and visit the Ka again, especially if I were ever in need of help or advice.

  ‘Now I return to seek his advice. You would not understand, Korkungal, for these matters do not concern you, but I have seen a strange thing in the heavens that frightens me and makes me anxious for the future. I do not fully understand it, but I think the priests of the Ka will. That is why I have come this great distance. I asked you to accompany me because I am old now and cannot march across whole countries on my own.

  ‘Do you understand now, Korkungal, my great warrior of the Briga?’

  Korkungal had listened patiently to Kandrigi this time, mostly because the speech dealt with, in the beginning at least, a matter concerning him and his skills, he had not understood the greater part of it, if only because it was useless, priestly business. But what he had understood, the seeming-gentleness or the inhabitants and the hospitality given to old Kandrigi, in his youth, swayed him into accepting the request that he disarm himself and approach the Ka in peace and trust.

  He laid his thick hand on the priest’s and shook it. ‘Very well, old Kandrigi, I will do as you ask,’ Kandrigi smiled wizenedly in relief. ‘I am glad, Korkungal, We will sleep here tonight and go up to the Ka in the morning. We have passed most of this evening in talk and we are tired.’ His face settled in complacence: he was no warrior, victories did not buoy him up for long, Besides, he had one more wonder to show.

  ‘Tonight, Korkungal, before we sleep, I will show you another thing belonging to this people that will amaze you.’

  Korkungal, busy pulling meat and grain from his skinbag, merely nodded. His mind was busy with tactics for the following day. With the passing of the mood of conciliation he had forgotten his promise to Kandrigi.

  He trusted nobody.

  When darkness descended, Kandrigi showed him the White Light that beamed down on the Ka from the top of the Temple and lit not only the walls and dwellings but also much of the surrounding countryside. Enthralled, Kandrigi pointed to the inverted cone of light that ascended to meet the stars.

  Badly scared, Korkungal became bad-tempered and hid himself in his sleeping-skin.

  Kandrigi prayed to the Great Mother with tears in his eyes.

  Could harm come to the world when such power as the people of the Ka possessed existed?

  Chapter Two