the Dark shall do what Light cannot

by Sanem Ozdural

  They ascended the stairs to the main deck and made their way towards the bow of the ship according to instructions.

  “We must be traveling due east,” Bruce remarked conversationally, shielding his eyes from the rising sun. A middling westerly filled the square sails of the main mast. “I’ve never seen a ship with black sails,” Bruce mused.

  “It is curious, I agree,” Father Griffith said. “Perhaps it’s a requirement for pirate ships in Pera – to distinguish them from normal, I mean more civilian ships,” he ventured hesitantly.

  “Perhaps…”

  “There he is!” Cat cried, pointing to a dark figure standing on the shelf-like rim of the prow, next to the carved statue of the arched flying fish. Orion stood, his back to them, arms by his sides, swaying in perfect balance with the motion of the ship.

  Man and statue, both poised, as if to strike, mused Father Griffith watching the two figures before them.

  “Orion!” Bruce called out.

  He turned and jumped nimbly to the deck.

  Like a cat, thought Father Griffith. His movements are beautiful. Graceful. I thought so when I first saw him in the simple act of rising from a chair. But like a leopard, he added. This is the grace and power of a predatory animal.

  Orion flexed his left hand, opening and shutting it repeatedly.

  “What’s that on your hand?” Cat asked sharply.

  Orion laughed easily, unhurriedly.

  “This?” Orion opened his left palm. On it was the tattoo of a black scorpion in a striking pose. And then Orion flexed his thumb so that the scorpion’s tale, situated on the fleshy portion of his palm, moved… to strike? Whom does the scorpion strike? wondered Father Griffith.

  Orion laughed with delight, and flexed his thumb again. “Fun isn’t it?”

  “I’m not sure… what you mean by fun,” Father Griffith said. “It looks as though… as though the scorpion might be stinging… you.”

  Orion nodded happily. “Yes, the artist is magnificent.” He laughed again. “One doesn’t know if the scorpion will strike me or the person whose hand I am shaking, right?”

  “That appears to be the idea,” Bruce said guardedly.

  “It is your imprinted hand,” Father Griffith noted. “The scorpion has already stung at least one person, has it not?”

  Orion smiled and his frank blue eyes were bereft of emotion. “Let me tell you the story of this scorpion…

  “As you know, I played LiGa Chess and won. The moment I called deathmate at the end of the tournament, I knew I would be leaving behind my old life. It was no longer interesting to me. I wanted to embark on new adventures. On a new life as an immortal–”

  “What exactly was your old life, darling?” Cat interrupted sweetly.

  Orion smiled at her. “I flew.”

  “You did? What did you fly, honey?”

  “Planes, mostly,” Orion replied with a disarming smile. It would have disarmed many, but not Cat.

  “What kind of planes, my love?” she continued sweetly. “Not the sort with all sorts of bombs attached to them, surely!”

  Orion smiled.

  “As I said, I wanted to leave behind the trappings of my mortal life – my name, my belongings, my attachments–”

  “Your planes…” Cat quipped.

  “Yes, them too,” Orion riposted with good humor. “So, as a first step, I decided to take a new name. One night soon after I became immortal, I was unable to sleep. In those early days my body had a lot of adjusting to do!” He chuckled. “You all know about that, of course…

  “That one night happened to be in the winter. It was a clear night, and where I was staying at the time, you could see the stars almost as well as you can on this ship. The sky was simply awash with them. As they say in Pera, ‘like a thousand pieces of the sun’.”

  Father Griffith nodded knowingly.

  “You know it, Father,” Orion said. “You’ve read the Old Story.” It was a statement of fact. “So,” he resumed, “I looked up into the sky and saw this mass of stars. I knew a lot about stars from a navigational point, of course. But when I looked up at the sky that night, I felt I was seeing them for the first time – in a different way.

  “There was Orion, of course. The Hunter. Winter is his time to shine. And I saw Rigel, the brightest star that marks Orion’s foot. Until that point, I had only seen Rigel as a means to an end: an aid to getting from point a to b. Rigel became a character for me that night. Not in the human sense. A star is not that.

  “Then I gazed upon the faint shadow of the nebula in his sword. Orion’s nebula is where stars are born. Did you know that? So much force, so much energy, and all we see, if we are lucky, is a pale shadow in the sky.

  “Who is Orion? Just a collection of stars. But a collection of stars can never be just anything. For thousands of years, different peoples have looked up at the sky and invented stories for that particular collection of stars.

  “And then it spoke to me…”

  “Who spoke to you?” they asked in unison.

  “Shadow…It called to me.

  Hunter:

  Twice-born.

  Once in mortal form,

  You roamed.

  In empty skies, your skills you showed.

  And who could escape the Hunter’s eye?

  Who could best the Hunter’s blade?

  In the empty skies where you rode.

  Hunter:

  Twice-born…

  Now where will you roam?

  The empty sky: can it contain you?

  The deepest ocean: can it sustain you?

  Eternal predator: who can detain you?

  “It was as though the night sky spoke to me,” Orion said softly, facing the open water. The only sounds were those of the waves and the gentle wind.

  “Shadow showed me that I had a choice…”

  Hunter:

  There is another

  Like you…

  One who rises with the setting Sun.

  One for who fear is just a word,

  And before whom the truth lies exposed

  like a carcass…

  Hunter:

  Would you walk?

  Would you take the path

  That Twilight treads?

  Would you?

  When it was time?

  Sometime

  When only the tread of the Hunter

  Counts.

  A serene, faraway smile played upon his features.

  “So, what did you say?” Cat asked, all impatient eagerness. “Did you say yes?” she demanded. “Say you did! I don’t know anything about Shadow, or whose path you’re supposed to take, but did you say yes?” she insisted. Father Griffith, taken aback by her vehemence, noted that her eyes shone with tears.

  “Of course,” Orion replied in a soothing tone. “I looked up at the night sky, at Orion, who is the greatest hunter, and I said, Yes! Yes, I will walk when the time comes. Like you, Cat, I didn’t know Shadow at the time, but it knew me. It had always known me. And I couldn’t refuse…I wouldn’t. You understand, don’t you?” The last question was directed at Cat clutching at the railing as the ship listed to starboard.

  Cat sighed. “Yes,” she breathed.

  “It told me that it is time now,” Orion continued. “The time for the Hunter to walk...”

  “Oh dear…” murmured Cat.

  Father Griffith cleared his throat. “I do hope we will meet Shadow when we get to Pera,” he said, feeling self-consciously that it was a bit weak under the circumstances.

  “You will,” Orion said, kindly.

  “And the scorpion you have tattooed on your hand– how does that fit into your new identity?” Bruce asked.

  “The scorpion… that’s part of it actually, but it didn’t happen until several months later… After the meeting with Xavier, as a matter of fact. Just like the meeting you had before we set off on this journey.

  “I had told him of my decision to take this new name, and how much I
was looking forward to life as an immortal, and he asked me if I knew the legends of Orion the Hunter?” Orion paused. “Do any of you know them, incidentally?” He looked around at his audience of three.

  “No,” Bruce said. “I imagine you will tell us?”

  “Yes, I should like to hear this,” Cat said.

  “Of course. I will tell you the one that meant most to me.

  “It is said that in ancient times Orion was a great hunter, so much so that he was wont to boast of his prowess, claiming that he was the best hunter in the world who could slay any beast. Perhaps he was callous too, and did not care about the lives of the animals he killed for sport…

  “Upon hearing this boast, one of the goddesses – perhaps Artemis who was also a hunter – sent a scorpion, one of the smallest of beasts, to kill Orion. And the scorpion succeeded; it stung and killed the peerless Hunter.

  “And the gods placed the Hunter and his nemesis, the scorpion – or Scorpius – on opposite sides of the sky.” Orion looked up as if to see if his namesake was still stalking the heavens. “Because Orion and Scorpius are at opposite ends of the sky it is not possible to see both constellations at the same time.” Orion grinned mischievously: “My nemesis is hidden from me…”

  “I see…And Xavier told you this legend?” Father Griffith wanted to know.

  “He told me to look it up,” Orion replied. “And after I had done so, he suggested this tattoo–” Orion showed his palm again. “He said I should always remember that the Hunter was punished, not for his skills as a hunter, but for his arrogance, and most of all, his lack of empathy for those he hunted. It is a choice you have, he said, in true LiGa fashion: you can best the scorpion or end up as its prey.” He flexed his thumb muscles again, sending the scorpion’s tail on its deadly dance.

  “Are you the greatest hunter?” Cat asked archly.

  “Yes,” Orion said simply. “At least, I am yet to come across anyone who could best me.” He smiled: it was a beguiling smile.

  But whom do you hunt? Father Griffith wondered, looking at the man before him, dressed in jeans and a sweater – recognizable trappings of this world. The trappings of his old life, perhaps, but underneath, I can feel the hunter’s coiled muscles, and his carefree mind.

  “Now that we’re done with that,” Orion continued, “we should move on to the real reason I brought you up here at this hour. I know you’re not happy about the time of day. In fact, each one of you would probably prefer to be asleep right now, which is understandable. I didn’t choose this time simply to irritate you or to disrupt your sleep schedule. The truth is, however, that your recently woken mind is more open and receptive; it is more available to empathy. Therefore, I deemed it important to start the first of our sessions at the crack of dawn, as Cat might say. Our future sessions will be held at a more accommodating time, I assure you.”

  He leaned back against the prow and serenely said, “Since this is the time at which your minds should, theoretically, be most open to empathy and telepathy, it will be the best time for me to assess whether or not you possess the abilities I mentioned.

  “I hope you all have at least some sense because otherwise you will find the rest of your lives as immortals very, very difficult, and possibly foreshortened as a result,” he added ominously, wearing a pleasant smile.

  “Are you serious?” Cat asked sharply.

  “Oh yes. Absolutely,” he replied, without losing his composure. “It is for a very simple reason: it would be like suddenly finding yourself deaf, dumb and blind, and forced to live as you had before. It would not be possible, right?” He smiled pleasantly. Bruce inclined his head slightly, not committing himself either way.

  “Well, there is a different kind of blindness, an inability to see within,” Orion continued. “You have so far inhabited a world in which the outward senses of sight, sound and touch, were paramount. You were taught to discount what you could not see, and disbelieve what you could not hear. If a person did not say something or do something, there could be nothing tangible upon which to act.

  “This is an incredibly simplistic view of the world, and one that gives people like me an enormous advantage. Because I know that we can communicate with far more than words, and we have the potential to see far, far more than that which is right before our eyes.

  “In fact I know, for instance, that you, Cat, drank coffee earlier out of a dark green mug. You did not care for the mug, but you liked the coffee. It reminded you of the chicory coffee you enjoyed in New Orleans.”

  “What? How? Which of you told him?” she demanded, rounding on Bruce and Father Griffith.

  “No, no,” Bruce shook his head. “We’ve been together since we met for breakfast. How could I, or Roland, have said anything to him?”

  “They didn’t,” Orion said, wearing a satisfied expression. “You told me, Cat. While I was talking about the scorpion and the Hunter, you were interested, and your mind was fully engaged in my story, but later, when I changed topic, your mind wandered, didn’t it? You started to think about how tired you were, and how you’d like nothing more than to go back to bed with your nice cup of coffee. Didn’t you?” He smiled. Perhaps with more than a touch of smugness, thought Father Griffith.

  “You know it,” Cat replied.

  “I know it is unsettling at first, but that is why it is vitally important that I teach you now, while you are still surrounded by friendly people.”

  “And here I was thinking we were going on vacation,” Cat muttered.

  “You are,” Orion nodded. “Absolutely. What I am about to show you is applicable to any situation, any place, not only to Pera, although there you will find people who are, if not quite as adept as me, at least have a working knowledge and use of ‘the sense.’ Besides that, though, Xavier was not exaggerating: we do rely on telepathy and empathy to communicate far more than anyone you have met in your former life and, under some circumstances, we rely on such forms of communication entirely.”

  “Goodness!” Cat exclaimed in mock alarm. “This is all new for us, my dear. You must have patience.”

  Orion shook his head. “Whether or not I have patience is irrelevant. Did you ask the cards for patience during the LiGa Bridge tournament because you had never experienced such a thing as the life transfer? And if you had, would it have made any difference to the outcome?

  “That’s what this is. As I said before, you either already have the sense, in which case it is largely up to you how effectively you use it, and protect yourselves from others, or you don’t, and the best you can hope for is to build up enough defenses to counter potential attacks.”

  “Oh yes? And how exactly will we know whether we are destined for abject failure or a lifetime of thought-policing?” Cat bridled.

  “Good question. I’ll show you. Let’s begin.”

  Father Griffith regarded Orion apprehensively. What in God’s name have we gotten ourselves into?

  “It will be easier than you think, and not at all unpleasant,” Orion told them and assured them that as LiGa Immortals, they were almost certain to possess the sense. “I’ve only known one immortal who is completely senseless,” he added.

  “And he’s still alive?” Cat asked sarcastically. “How surprising.”

  “She is still very much alive and kicking,” Orion replied, and added with an enchanting smile, “for now…”

  Fiona, thought Father Griffith unexpectedly. Why did that name pop into my mind? He wondered, puzzled.

  “Her name is Fiona Manx,” Orion said, startling Father Griffith. “What’s wrong, Father?” Orion asked, turning to face him.

  “Oh no, it’s nothing. Nothing,” Father Griffith said quickly.

  “No, Father, it is not nothing. Tell us why you looked surprised all of a sudden,” Orion prompted.

  Father Griffith laughed self-consciously, and explained that the word Fiona had leapt into his mind moments before Orion had spoken the name ‘Fiona Manx’. “Strange coincidence,” he laughed.
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  “Do you know a person named Fiona? Is she close to you?”

  “Not at all,” Father Griffith replied, spreading out his hands in a gesture of surprise. “I suppose I might have known someone called Fiona at some point in my life–” he laughed with a touch of self-consciousness. “I really don’t know… I mean I had heard the name mentioned by someone I met recently, and then Patron and I – well, Patron mentioned a Fiona… I don’t know, perhaps it was that–” he said helplessly.

  “Or perhaps it is because I thought the name Fiona and directed it at you, Father… What would you say to that?”

  Father Griffith looked puzzled and shook his head. “Why on earth would you do that?”

  “As a demonstration,” Orion said, addressing the group, “To show you that telepathy is a most mundane and common activity. So often we find that a particular thought will simply appear out of the blue, but we will think nothing of it, often not even seeking to understand from whence it came, and if we were to do so, reasoning it away the way Father Griffith did just now–”

  “Yes, but how did you know to put that name in Roland’s mind at that moment? Was that pure coincidence?” Cat’s smile was not altogether pleasant.

  “No indeed!” Orion said earnestly. “As a matter of fact, Patron had mentioned to me in passing what a strange coincidence it was that Father Griffith had actually heard of someone who is currently living where we are headed. I thought it would be a good nugget of information to use for this initial exercise. I simply thought the word ‘Fiona’–”

  “Ah…” Cat said, indicating with a slight inflection that she was not completely convinced. “But then why didn’t the rest of us – sorry, darling–” she added, reaching out to pat Bruce on the arm, “I’m speaking for you too but shouldn’t. Why didn’t I think of Fiona at the same time?”

  “I didn’t either,” Bruce confessed, shaking his head. “Does that mean Cat and I don’t have the sense?” He gave a deprecating laugh. “That would be the end of us!”

  “Not at all,” Orion assured them. “It was on purpose. As I said, I had already heard from Patron that Father Roland had recently mentioned knowing a Fiona, so I simply directed the thought towards him–