The Transall Saga (15 page)

chapter
45

"Are you sure about this, Sarbo?" Mark looked down at his friend. He was lying behind his mount on a pole stretcher they had hastily put together.

Sarbo smiled weakly. His face had lost most of its color. "I am sure, Kakon. I am going back to our village to die. The runt will take me. I will have a fine warrior’s burial and they will sing many songs about my bravery."

"You are too mean and ornery to die, Sarbo. But I do think that the village is the best place for you. They will tend your wound and soon you will be back to your old annoying self. "

"Annoying? Why, if I was not about to die, I would — "

"I know." Mark knelt by the stretcher. "You would teach me to respect my betters. Here." He took off his claw necklace and put it around Sarbo’s neck. "I want you to have this. You have been a true friend, Sarbo. No one could ask for better."

Mark stood and turned to Yonk. "Take good care of him. Follow the directions I have given you. If you get him safely back to the village you will be given your freedom."

"I will do as you ask, master. You can count on me."

"I know I can. And Yonk, if you should meet a girl by the name of Megaan in the village ... tell her ..."

"Yes, master?"

"Never mind. You’d better get going. And be careful. There could be other tribes out there."

Mark watched them go until they were only tiny specks on the horizon. He already missed them. His trip to Listra was going to be a lonely one.

Sarbo had given him directions to the ferry that would take him across the great river. After that it was only a few more miles to the Merkon’s stronghold.

He would have liked to have the assurance of Sarbo’s sword and his vast fighting experience, but even more than that, Sarbo’s friendship. Even Yonk’s unending chatter would be better than silence.

Mark shrugged the feeling off and sat up straight on his mount. He had been alone before and had survived.

The red Death Sand gradually faded into a soft red dust that grew mostly cactus. Mark let his animal pick its way through the thorny plants.

Sarbo had told him there would be no water here. But if he cut the tops off the larger cactus plants he could find a bitter liquid that would see him through until he reached the river.

Mark stopped only twice to drink. He didn’t eat because he was in a hurry and didn’t want to take the time to hunt. His mount’s flanks were drawing up from exertion and the lack of water. The animal’s steps became slower and slower. Finally Mark got off and led the beast until nightfall.

The moonlight gave the night sky an odd yellow glow. Mark stopped to rest. Soon he would continue, hoping to reach the river by morning.

He tied the beast and snuggled down in the warm soft dirt. His mind replayed the events of the previous weeks.

The Merkon had told him of a shaman in Trisad who did not exist. Then they had been attacked on the way to find the imaginary shaman, and the Merkon had been taken captive. Bounty hunters had been offered a reward for Mark’s capture. Why? None of it made any sense.

He thought back to Pet, the old man in Trisad who said he was a keeper of knowledge. The stories he had told about the blood sick and the terrible destruction made Mark shudder.

The people had been changed by some catastrophe. They were strange in custom and appearance.

Well, not all of them. Mark drifted off to sleep thinking about how pretty one of them was, especially when she was upset with him.

When he was finished in Listra he would go back and see her one last time before he returned to the dark jungle.

chapter
46

The big animal lapped up river water for
a long time. Mark was worried about letting it have so much. He had read something about overdrinking making animals sick. He ran his hand back and forth in the cool brown water, watching the animal.

"Well, what have we here?"

Mark whirled. A stocky young man with an ugly burn on his face stood behind him, holding a wooden oar.

"Are you not something? Coming here in broad daylight like this. Either you are very brave or you are touched in the head."

Mark jumped to his feet. "I don’t know who you think I am but — "

"I have no doubt who you are. You are the young outlaw with the very large price on his head. The word is that you are a bad one indeed. What did you do to get him after you? Normally he does not take such an interest."

"I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I’m simply looking for the ferry. You wouldn’t happen to know if it’s up- or downstream, would you?"

"You are touched. Do you not realize that everyone in the area has been alerted to look for you? You would be spotted instantly if you tried to cross the river on the ferry. The Merkon has spies everywhere."

"The Merkon?" Mark tried to think. So it was true. The Merkon had offered a reward for his capture. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Are you here to try to collect the bounty?"

The young man gave a wry laugh. "If I was, I could easily have struck you on the head with my oar. Put away your sword, outlaw. I am no friend of the Merkon. It was one of his men who did this to me." He pointed at the burn on his cheek.

Mark relaxed. "Do you know of another way across the river?"

"Maybe. But first you must tell me why you wish to go into the demon’s lair. The reward for you holds whether you are dead or alive. What is so significant over there that you would risk your life for it?"

"Answers. I am not an outlaw. The Merkon knows I’m not. He also has information about something that is very important to me. If he is still alive, I have to have it."

"Oh, he is alive, all right. He just recently returned from a very long trip. And he wasted no time getting the word out about you." The young man rubbed his chin. "I have a raft. Your beast will have to swim but I know of a narrow place in the river. Come with me."

Mark hesitated, then grabbed his mount’s reins. He wasn’t sure whether he could trust this man, but it looked as if he had no choice.

The young man looked back. "What do they call you, outlaw?"

"Some call me Kakon."

"Interesting name. What does it mean?"

"I am told it means ’the second warrior.’ "

"Where are you from?"

"A faraway place."

"Closemouthed. I like that. A man can never be too careful. My name is Roan. I live across the river with a small group of murderers and thieves."

Mark stopped. "Is that where we’re going?"

"Yes. They are an unruly bunch. But once they find out who you are they will be pleased that you have joined us. Here is the raft. Give me a hand, will you?"

Mark helped him push the raft into the water. "Why do you live with murderers and thieves? You don’t seem like the type. "

"When the great Merkon puts a mark like this on your face, you are no longer welcome among the true people."

"Why did he do that to you?"

"I used to work for him in the stronghold. I tended the stables as a young boy and worked my way up to become a member of the elite guard. Life could not have been better for me until met Dansa."

"Dansa?"

"The Merkon’s daughter. We were going to run away together. But we were caught by her brother, Mordo. The Merkon branded me as a thief. He would have branded her too, but she denied everything and blamed me." Roan shrugged. "I guess it wasn’t true love after all. Now I am banished from Listra. So I hide with my companions in the forest and live by my wits. You are welcome to stay with us."

"Thank you, Roan." Mark stepped onto the raft and pulled his beast to the edge of the water. "I just might take you up on that."

Roan pushed off and began rowing. The beast followed and was soon covered with water except for its head. Roan let the current take them downstream a short distance and then started rowing again until they reached the other side.

A wide man with a flat face, scraggly hair and thick bare feet jumped out of the bushes and caught the rope Roan threw to him. He pulled the raft to shore and helped them hide it in the brush.

"This is Francle. At one time he was the Merkon’s chief advisor. That was before he advised something the Merkon did not want to hear and his tongue was cut out."

Mark winced and nodded at the man. "Nice to meet you."

Francle nodded back and reached for the reins of Mark’s beast.

Mark jerked them away. "I’ll keep it with me, if you don’t mind."

The man frowned and moved up the trail in front of them. Roan winked at Mark. "Wise decision. Francle has been known to borrow a mount from time to time. He sells them to an old trader across the river."

"So you steal from each other too?"

"Oh no. Only from strangers."

"It’s nice to know you draw the line somewhere."

Roan laughed and led the way up a narrow path through stands of tall red trees. "So you claim you are not really an outlaw. You must have done something. What was it? Did you hear or see something you were not supposed to? Perhaps you failed to carry out a mission you were entrusted with."

"It was none of those things. At least I don’t think it was. I’m not really sure. To tell you the truth, I think it has something to do with the way I look."

"Ha!" Roan slapped his leg. "That is very funny. The great Merkon wants to arrest you because of your looks." Roan stopped walking and turned to study Mark. "I admit you do look odd. You are very tall, your skin has a pasty look and your eyes are misshapen." He snapped his fingers. "I have it. You are related to the Merkon. I saw him once without his mask. He had those same strange eyes."

This time it was Mark’s turn to laugh. "That’s not it either. I can’t explain right now, but believe me, there’s no way I would be related to the Merkon."

"Too bad. It would have made a good story to tell at the fire tonight." Roan stepped through a hedge of brush. "We will not speak from this point on, Kakon. For the next mile or so, the forest is inhabited by the worst kind of beasts. Spies sent from the Merkon to locate our band. Walk only where I walk."

Mark watched Roan slip a knife from his moccasin. He followed suit by reaching for his crossbow and loading one of his arrows.

They had traveled a fair distance when they heard a loud snap and a strange whirring noise. Then came the sound of someone crashing through the brush in their direction.

Mark wanted to hide but Roan stood his ground, poised and ready.

Francle charged out of the brush, motioning excitedly for them to follow him.

A sly grin crept over Roan’s face. "Come, Kakon," he whispered. "I think you will enjoy this."

Francle led the way to a clearing and pointed above their heads. Hanging by one foot and trying desperately to free himself from the noose around his foot was one of the Merkon’s soldiers. His helmet and sword had fallen to the ground and the skirt of skins he wore had dropped over his head, exposing his bare backside.

"Looks as if one of your traps has caught a varmint, Francle. A rather large one this time. Take care of it. And see if you can find his mount." Roan took a step and stopped. "And Francle, be sure the mount gets back to camp."

"Come, Kakon. Our camp is not far now." Roan led the way through a dense thicket. On the other side he stopped and called out, "Ho, the camp. It is I, Roan, with a distinguished guest."

A voice from the trees answered. "Proceed and welcome to Roan and his guest."

Mark scanned the treetops but couldn’t find the owner of the voice. He followed Roan down a narrow ravine, which opened into a small clearing. There were no people, but a nearly smokeless fire burned in the center and a small animal was cooking on a wooden spit.

Armor and swords were stacked up on one side, and a string of beasts was tied to a long rope. One by one, six men stepped out from behind trees and stood in front of them.

"Is this who I think it is?" A man with a scar burned into his face like Roan’s looked Mark up and down.

"It is, Jod." Roan held out his hand. "My friends, may I present the young outlaw, Kakon? I found him on the other side of the river, looking for the ferry."

"The ferry?" A thin man with a shaved head moved close to Mark. "He is a bold rascal. What did he intend to do, take on the company of guards on the bank by himself?"

"That I do not know. All he has told me is that he desires to see the great Merkon on a personal matter."

Jod circled behind them. Mark’s hand felt for the release on his crossbow.

Roan touched Mark’s shoulder.."Have no fear, my pale new friend." He glared at Jod. "You know better. Kakon is my guest. I told him he would be welcome here. Bring him food and water. Perhaps before this day is over we will all find out how useful we can be to one another."

chapter
47

"The stronghold is on the other side of Listra. It has a high wall that completely encircles it. Inside there is a shelter room for the guards to sleep in and a stable that houses a hundred riding beasts. The main house is like nothing you have ever seen. It has a large hall with a plank floor and behind that more than ten rooms used solely by the Merkon and his family."

Mark didn’t comment. He waited for Roan to finish.

"The tribute is kept in one of the back rooms. I have never seen it but one time Dansa told me about it. She described it in detail so I know for certain it is there."

"And you want me to help you break into the stronghold to get it."

"Yes. We have eight good men. You make nine. If we attack at night we will have the element of surprise. And if while you are there you get a chance to handle your business with the Merkon, so much the better. What do you say?"

"I say no."

Jod pulled his sword. "He is a coward, Roan. Let me cut his heart out."

"Let me finish." Mark stood and brushed the crumbs from his clothes. "By the way, thank you for the meal. I haven’t eaten in a long time. It is very much appreciated."

Roan raised an eyebrow. "You were saying?"

"Just that I think there is a better way. If the stronghold is guarded as heavily as you say, I don’t think you’re going to have an easy time sneaking over the wall."

"Go on."

"Suppose they opened the gate for you? Suppose you brought them something the Merkon wants? Not only would you be taken to the tribute room for payment, you would get in without a fight."

"And that something would be ..."

"Me."