The devils work

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God was having a busy day. In fact, it is pretty safe to say he was flat out. The devil knew it and was never one to miss an opportunity to change His plans.

So while God occupied Himself with the North American earthquake, the Atlantic oil spill and tried his best to keep control of the day to day tasks, the devil took his chance. Simar, on the other hand was experiencing a peaceful winter evening, a content village, after a more successful days hunting than recent trips. Positioned some 3000m up Mount Corta, surrounded by barren land with the exception of the odd clump of oak tree, Simar was not a place accustomed to many visitors.

There was no need for look out men, there was no threat of attack and the animal life was at a minimal this time of year. Instead Conran, the village leader and at least a quarter of the population huddled closely around the fire pushing out the bitter cold.

Tomak noticed him first. Tomak was arguably the best hunter in the tribe but his quietness somehow contributed to him never being regarded as one of the leaders. He was Conrans right hand man but never given much command. Despite the strangers' entire black attire and the midnight hour, the fire had still illuminated his silhouette. Then his voice introduced him to the others.

'Hello friends, I am a travelling man, I plan to reach the summit of Mount Corta and push on down the other side into Arata by the coast in search of some work on the boats. I would be most grateful of a place to rest my head overnight and to share a few hours of warmth.'

Through his smile, Conran, the village leader spoke. 'Come, warm yourself stranger and welcome to Simar. Tomak, please fetch this good man some food. Stranger, you may have somewhere to rest your weary bones and have all the warmth one body can cope with. We can make room for you in our huts for the night but I am sorry, we are large in number and the days catch has long been devoured. A man as hungry as you portray will still appreciate a filling bowl of rice. [A familiar gift is sometimes taken for granted but it has not changed from the first time it was served, me must hold our own mind in contempt for that distorted opinion.

The stranger did not need a second invite as he positioned himself in the newly born gap. As he spoke, he was only too aware of contrast his furs made among the rags and soiled blankets the villagers used to smother their numbness. 'You are most kind. I am heading over the summit of Mount Corta but it has taken me longer to climb from the village Karcha below.' He said pointing back down the mountain.

Tomak returned and the stranger ate with a look of contentment on his face which please both Conran and the larger crowd, which had gathered once the news of the stranger spread through Simar.
'You are most welcome to stay a few of these bitter nights and can even stay longer if you help in our daily ritual as I can think of no lonelier nights than can be found at the summit, my God look over us all!' warned Conran.
'Again thank you kind sir', answered the visitor. 'However, Karacha below provided me and food, ale and a bathing which has not only given me the strength to push on tomorrow but the craving for more! Do not misinterpret my words, as I am truly most grateful for your hospitality.'
'It sounds as if I may come too!', joked Miran. 'It has been a full lifetime since my last bath or ale!', he added to extend the others laugh.

 

Miran was good for moral and the others were accustomed to his fresh humor since he had reached the age of acceptance. His personality had demanded this age be less than normal expected but its eagerness was welcomed, especially on nights as bleak as this one where the stomach was introduced to its last food for a day while still three quarters empty.
'Why don't you then!', replied the stranger, a smile as wide as the rice bowl held tight for warmth in his hands.
'Or even visit the closer village of Karacha below. I am sure you will be as welcome as you have made me here tonight and no man deserves to be deprived of the taste of mutton or the delights of hot water for all of his life!'

 

Conran looked serious for the first time as he spoke, slowly but with great purpose. 'The last group of representatives we sent down to Karacha was some years ago. Despite, the Gods having laid down the laws that we do not go down to villages in the lower parts of the mountain or within the valley itself, several decades ago, our people sent this party down. They brought with them gifts of our finest hunting spears and a fresh boar to share with them. Our men were chased out of Karacha fastest than the tigers claw, the broken hunting spears came not far behind. It did not please the Gods above.'
The stranger stopped eating. 'They used your hunting spears to chase your men?'
'No, no!', replied Tomak. 'There is no violence between tribes on Mount Corta. They just threw them away as all tribes know, acts of violence will bring famine and plague to our fellow tribes.'
The stranger was astonished and he could not or would not hide it.. 'You have no food, some of you men have not eaten a proper meal since the first frost ridden morning. You have little arable land so far up the mountain. You are not allowed to move on, have no luxuries Karacha allows itself and they chase you away when you bring them gifts that they then destroy! And this is your fellow tribe?'
The crowd seemed disturbed. Above the murmurs of most of the men, you could hear several of the younger members argued with the elders. I think they were the younger ones anyway.
Artom arose. He was the son of the villagers last chief. A greatly respected man who had perished the previous winter through an illness which to be honest the name of which escapes me. Artom was widely expected to take his fathers position when Conran died if he had become of age and he knew it. He seemed the most disturbed.
'For several weeks now, I have deprived these exact thoughts of an existence beyond my mind. This night is the catalyst required to transform them into words. We go hunting and watch them enjoy their luxuries from a height with all the envy of a thousand men have of an eagles ability to fly. We see their antiquated hunting methods and do not tell me I stand as the sole possessor of the thought of overpowering Karacha in the name of survival and to rid ourselves of this pitiful existence!'
Conran jumped to his feet, and as they stood side by side, he realised for the first time Artom had out grown him. Or had he ingrown Artom through old age, this thought certainly didnt belong to this moment. He braced himself for a long speech to calm his men.
'Artom, sit please. We must stop this thought at once as famine and plague outweigh any of'
'Famine and plague!!', Shouted Artom, his spear held in both hands high above his head. 'We have them already. We have had them for fifteen years now, since the split which put us in this miserable imprisonment on a land which slowly reduces our numbers, our pride, our beliefs in any Gods and the time we have to stand up and fight back!'
The crowd where all up on their feet, many cheering as Artom continued as loud as before but this message was not for the crowd, instead for one man. I suppose that depends on your perception of Artom.
'Conran, the numbers have spoken. Peoples' views on both situations and others modify with time and we know time is curved. This means it is harder to look back around the corners to see and remember the past. It is true the curve has no walls, thus we still catch glimpses of the distant past. The recent times still stand out though but Conran, you and your accomplishments are almost around that corner now. Either you join us or have the dishonor of dying the first leader of the Simar tribe to be over ruled. Either way, we shall go to bed now men, as we have much to achieve tomorrow and much to look forward to in the future. I shall rest now and in the morning will meet with Miran, and four others chosen from the elders and younger men. We shall outline out plan of attack and we shall all regroup here tomorrow evening.
Tomak, you will choose four men tomorrow to organise the making of weapons of attack and training the others in attack. These four will be at your command as you will be at mine.
'Stranger', Artom continued, 'we no you have no need to join our attack and I advise that you move on immediately towards the summit of Corta. We have fed you and will provide you with several skins to ease you through the brisk night. As you can understand, if you stayed, we would have no option but to guard over you during the night and no man without crime should need to borrow the shoes of a prisoner.
You two men, escort our visitor up the mountain path until the sun has joined us again.
Go now tribesmen of Simar, rest well, content with the knowledge that the coldness you feel will soon be a stranger. '
The men departed and the stranger left the fireside as unnoticed as he arrived. Just as he had arrived, one mans eyes watched him before the others joined.
'Stranger!', Conran called, tears flowing from his wrinkled cheeks onto his furs. For one last time, the tribesmen stopped as if on command at the sound of Conrans voice. 'What is your name?'
The stranger stopped in his tracks, turned and looked at Conran, deep into his eyes and on into his soul
'sliveD', he said with a laugh.
And with that sliveD turned around and the Devil's work was done.