Empire of the Saviours (Chronicles of/Cosmic Warlord 1) by A.J. Dalton Page B

been. Last thing we need is the next chieftain doubting our holy and wise words just because you can’t be bothered to pick your feet up. Bit full of yourself, are you, huh? Wouldn’t be surprised. Often the way with warriors, particularly young ones. And now you’re letting the cold in! You must be crazy.’
    With that, the door slammed shut in Aspin’s face. He rocked back on his heels, confused and at a loss for words. Crazy man! Aspin pounded on the wood again. Nothing. And again.
    The beady eye ogled at him. ‘Go away!’
    ‘Let me in, Torpeth!’
    ‘Why should I?’
    ‘I’ll die otherwise. I’ll give you payment!’
    ‘Not so crazy after all then. In, quickly!’
    Aspin squeezed through the small gap he was permitted and entered near darkness. A small fire crackled in a hearth at the other end of the room and he wasted no time heading for it. His teeth chattered and his hands were shaking as if he had the palsy. Shadows near the fire shifted and he suddenly realised there was someone ahead of him.
    ‘So, come to challenge me, have you?’ growled Braggar, the chief’s brawny and cruel-eyed son. ‘Torpeth said a challenger would come, although I found it hard to believe any would dare stand against me.’
    Aspin was already shaking his head in denial. ‘Nay, chief’s son, I bring no challenge. All agree you will be the next leader of our tribe.’
    Torpeth was suddenly at Aspin’s shoulder. ‘Ah, but you promised the gods payment, son of the snow! You bring a challenge in with you whether you know it or not. During the weeks of snow ahead, Braggar will abide here and learn the tribe’s secrets so that he may one day rule. Son of the snow, you have insisted on abiding here, so you will also learn these secrets. You will be a challenge to Braggar’s rule whether you will it or not. You have made your choice, warrior.’
    ‘B-but I didn’t know! I had no choice.’
    Torpeth tutted. ‘There is always a choice. You may leave if you wish. That will mean your death, of course, but the choice is yours.’
    Aspin frowned at both of them and then shrugged. ‘Then it appears I must be a challenger.’
    ‘You will regret that!’ Braggar promised darkly.
    Torpeth giggled and pushed Aspin closer to the fire.
    The days that followed blurred one into the other, for there was little to distinguish them. There was little light in the place, whether it was night or day; they ate from the same giant pile of pine nuts for every meal, and they did and said very little of significance.
    Aspin would always awake to find himself lying closer to Braggar and Torpeth than was comfortable, but there was as little heat as light in the place, so it was not surprising their bodies would look to share warmth. Unfortunately, Torpeth snored loudly and smelt so bad that he would often keep Aspin awake. On one occasion Aspin had been determined to shake the holy man and push him away, but the lunatic’s wide and rolling eyes had scared him off.
    Once Torpeth was up, he would insist the other two keep perfectly silent – he called it making observances to the gods. If either Braggar or Aspin moved too noisily or even breathed too heavily, he would scream in outrage. He would froth at the mouth and pull handfuls of matted hair from his head or beard. Then he would invariably start to cry, snot running freely from his nose, begging for forgiveness from the roof, the chimney and the cellar. He’d attacked Braggar once, his movements so fast that they’d blurred and Braggar had been unable to defend himself. Just as it had looked like the chief’s son would collapse, Torpeth had become distracted, stopped and started talking nonsense to the air. Another time the holy man had thrown himself into the fire on his back and begun to writhe around like a dog scratching its back: they’d had to drag him free by the heels and then pull him out the door into the snow.
    After they’d made their observances to the gods, Torpeth would stare