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Back Lure Save as PDF
Chapters (19)
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The peasant folk prayed to the old gods of the sea to save them, but they were dead and could not hear their cries. In desperation, some turned their backs on the old ways and lifted their prayers to the heavens and to the sun and to whatever could hear them. Behold, one soul, one righteous heart, heard their lamentations and came riding out of the mountain in the sky on a great steed that blew flames from its nostrils. A hero named Torgrim the Unbending, holding high a sword forged in the furnace of the sun itself. Its steel was lit with holy fire and it thirsted hungrily for the blood of the wicked and the heathen alike. The hero charged his horse through the sea foam and dared the monster to challenge him. The sea churned and chopped, and the great serpent lunged for the man who dared defy it. Torgrim the Unbending smote the beast with his flaming sword, cleaving the monster in two. The beast writhed on the pebbly beach, smoking from the holy flame as the blade drank its blood. The grateful pagans lifted the hero on their shoulders, proclaimed him king, and adopted his faith of the one true God.

Or so the legend tells. I laughed when I first heard the tale, which did not endear me to the locals. A gaffe, which only caused the villagers to dislike us even more when my father became pastor to this far-flung parish. Half the people in the village claim to be direct descendants of this noble hero, which explains the number of men named Torgu or the daughters named Torga.

I am the only Kaspar in town. Most snicker at my name behind my back. A few do it to my face. Fitting in has not been easy. We will always be outsiders, my family and I.

2

2

BEFORE HEADING TO the pier to collect the tithe, I decide to check my own traps. With any luck there will be a crab or maybe a few cod, which will allow me to skip the tithing altogether. I hate having to beg the fishermen. And they hate me for it in return.

A set of worn stone steps lead down to the church crypt, where the former reverends and the prominent men of the village are interred. The stone walls here are cold and always damp with saltwater. The church was built on the cliffside over the sea, with the crypt chiseled out of the rock. Another passageway leads from the tombs down to a wooden hut on the sea. My traps are tethered here, strung down into the dark water, and baited with a few dinner scraps.