The Transall Saga (6 page)

chapter
19

Tukha was dead.

The village had suspended work and spent the entire day preparing for his last rites. Mark stood in the shadows watching the funeral procession. Six men carried the lifeless body to a raised wooden platform that was decorated with flowers, vines and leaves. They placed him on top along with his spear and shield.

Tukha’s family, which consisted of his sister—who turned out to be Leeta—and an older woman, walked slowly to the beat of the drum, then covered Tukha’s face with an animal skin.

Someone handed the chief a burning torch and he touched it to a small stack of firewood underneath the platform. Everyone stepped back to watch the body burn.

Mark had made up his mind. He couldn’t stay with these people. They were too different. They had wiped out a whole village as if it was a huge game. In the morning he would go back to his tree house and live alone in the dark jungle.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Leeta had brought the old woman to him. Her sad eyes searched his face. "Kakon es tat mek Tukha." Tears ran down her wrinkled cheeks.

"I’m sorry," Mark said. A lump welled up in his throat. "Your grandson seemed like a good man."

Leeta led her grandmother away and when the fire had completely consumed the body the people crowded into the long hut to talk about the raid, divide the booty and console the family.

Mark didn’t go. He wished it wasn’t so late. If he could, he would leave right now. None of this made any sense. The arrow people hadn’t really gained that much from looting the village, just a few new weapons, some beads and a small amount of food. Nothing they brought back seemed worth dying over.

He went into the hut where he’d slept the night before and picked up his things. The hiking boot still contained one tree rock, a couple of pieces of jerky, an empty sock and a few strips of cloth. He had replaced the shoestring with a vine and now he tied the boot to his belt loop. At first light he would be ready to go.

"Mawk?" Leeta stood in the door.

Mark didn’t look up. He grabbed his spear and bow and arrows and brushed past her. His intention was to spend the night at the edge of the clearing and start back first thing in the morning. He would forget these people and their crazy customs and concentrate on finding the blue light.

Leeta followed him past the huts. He stopped and looked at her. "Where do you think you’re going?"

"Lee-ta, Mawk, taw-kin?"

"There’s nothing to talk about. Go back to your crazy people before they catch you out here and decide to kill me too."

Leeta untied a string of wooden beads from around her neck and put them in his hand. She gave him a sad, confused look and turned to go.

"Wait." Mark caught her arm. He took off his broken watch and fastened it around her tiny wrist. "Thanks for everything, Leeta. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime."

She stroked the watch. "Et tkus Kakon Mawk."

"Yeah, same to you." He put the beads in his boot and walked to the edge of the clearing. When he reached the trees he glanced back over his shoulder.

She was gone.

chapter
20

The air smelled like smoke. It was still dark, too early for the women to be cooking. Mark’s eyes snapped open. There was a heavy, dark cloud hanging over the village. He crawled through the brush to get a better look.

The meeting hut was on fire.

His first thought was that the other tribe had come after them looking for revenge. But when he saw the attackers he knew he was wrong.

These warriors were not simple village people. They rode large long-haired creatures that looked like a cross between a horse and a cow, and their weapons were made of metal.

The arrow people didn’t have a chance. Those who tried to fight were cut down immediately. Mark saw the chief and several of the men die fighting with primitive clubs against swords and axes.

Some tried to run. They were chased and either stabbed by the mounted men or trampled by the mounts.

Mark scanned the grounds, frantically searching for Leeta. He ran into the clearing, calling her name. A wild scream came from the garden area. One of the men had her cornered and was bearing down on her with his mount.

"No!" Mark started for her. A rope settled around his neck and dragged him back. He hit the ground hard. The rope was choking him. He fought and grabbed at it with both hands but it was no use.

The man pulled Mark on his back through the sand to the center of the village clearing, where the invaders had rounded up several of the men, women and children.

Mark loosened the rope and threw it off. He stood and saw Leeta being pushed roughly across the compound to join them.

When she spotted Mark she ran to him and held on to his arm. "Es Tsook. Tsook."

The men surrounded them. They were much larger than the arrow people and their skin was a light yellow, but they had the same odd eyes.

The leader, a fat man wearing a long cape made of hides, gave a command and the warriors dismounted and began tying the arrow people together.

Mark found himself at the front of the line with Leeta tied securely to his right wrist. He could see that the Tsook, as Leeta called them, had not come to plunder the village for goods. They were after people. And now he was one of their prisoners.

The fat man was staring at him. Mark stared back. The man’s eyes narrowed and he yelled an order in a new language. One of the warriors put the rope back around Mark’s neck and held the other end in his hand as he climbed onto his beast.

The leader gave the command and the men rode out of the village, dragging Mark and what was left of the arrow people along behind them.

part

2

chapter
21

It was feeding time. As usual the Tsook tossed a leftover hindquarter of raw meat in the dirt and scarcely waited until it was gone before they gave the order to move out again.

The routine had been the same since the terrible day they had been captured. Tied together, the prisoners trudged along behind the riders all morning, and then in the afternoon the column stopped for a short break to eat and drink.

Their numbers had dwindled from twenty-five to twelve. The Tsook did not tolerate weakness. Any of the captives who fell sick or lagged behind was immediately killed.

Leeta gnawed on a piece of the raw meat. She noticed Mark watching her and held it out to him. "Mawk eat."

Mark shook his head. He and Leeta were getting better at communicating. They spoke an odd combination of the clicking language and English. He’d learned that the name she had called him frantically when he had first confronted her, Mawof, was a mythical creature the old people used to scare the little ones into behaving. His new name, Kakon, was more difficult for her to explain. She could only tell him that a kon was a very important warrior. And ka meant the second or younger one.

When he questioned her about the blue light, she claimed to know nothing. But Mark noticed that every time he brought it up, she seemed nervous and eager to change the subject.

He was also picking up a few phrases from the Tsook. Their language was easier than Leeta’s because he could hear distinct vowels. He understood when the leader, Dagon, gave orders to stop and go, or for his men to feed the prisoners or take care of the mounts.

Mark swallowed dryly as he watched Leeta and the others gobble up the raw meat. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t eat it. He often did when he couldn’t find insects or edible plants along the trail. Sometimes he took a small portion just to keep himself from starving. But it rankled him to be treated this way and by now he was used to going without food. When he had broken his ribs he had conditioned himself to eat only when it was absolutely necessary. So it wasn’t hard to let the others have the meat.

Dagon always watched Mark carefully. At feeding time he would stand near him, staring openly as if he was inspecting a novelty in a sideshow. It made Mark feel uneasy, though he understood he was different from the arrow people and that his skin was lighter and he was taller than the Tsook. Even his clothes were unusual. He’d outgrown his jeans and was now wearing pieces of them he’d wrapped around himself.

Once, Dagon pointed to the hiking boot Mark kept tied to his belt and used the word Merkon.

"Not Merkon," Mark said flatly. "I am called Kakon."

Dagon’s second in command, a surly bearded man called Sarbo, angrily drew his sword and threatened to drive it into Mark’s chest for daring to speak to the leader. Dagon stopped him.

That had been more than a week before. Now they were resting at the foot of the very mountains Mark had promised himself to visit someday. He only wished he had come here under different circumstances.

Dagon was studying him again. Mark ignored the man and turned to Leeta. "How long till we reach the land of the Tsook?"

Leeta glanced up at the mountain. "Go over." She held up three fingers. "Tkas."

"Three days?" Mark chewed his lip. "Then what?"

"Nah kirst ma." She held up a wrist that was tied with rope. "Tsook war to take workers."

"I noticed your people weren’t exactly against making war."

Leeta shrugged and took another bite. "Way much people."

Dagon gave the order to break camp. The arrow people quickly stood and formed a straight line. The men no longer put a rope around Mark’s neck. Either they thought it would be too hard for him to escape while tied to the others or they knew he would never be able to outrun their animals.

The thought of escape had crossed Mark’s mind more than once. The Tsook had not bothered to check the contents of his boot, so he still had his pocketknife, which would easily cut through the rope. But so far he hadn’t had a good chance to use it. By day the Tsook watched them carefully and at night a guard was posted.

As they climbed higher up the mountain the terrain became rocky and the air difficult to breathe. The arrow people were used to flat, humid land and they were having a hard time keeping up with the animals.

Leeta cried out and Mark felt an abrupt tug on the rope. He glanced back. Leeta had stepped on a sharp rock and sliced the bottom of her foot.

The riders immediately closed ranks. Leeta bit her lip, looked straight ahead and kept moving.

Mark could see blood on the side of her foot. "Is it bad?" he whispered.

"Bad, yes."

Mark slowed the pace as much as he dared. Soon Leeta was hobbling and the line was barely moving.

Sarbo stepped off his mount and drew his sword. Mark knew what was about to happen. The Tsook would kill her, throw her body to the side and go on without a second thought.

The yellow-skinned man moved to the front of the line. He cut the ropes that connected Leeta to Mark and the person behind her.

Leeta closed her eyes.

"Stop!" Mark yelled in Tsook. He stepped between her and the man.

The executioner’s eyes flashed. With his free hand he shoved Mark out of the way and raised the sword.

Mark gathered himself and charged. He rammed the warrior with his shoulder, knocking him off balance.

Surprised, Sarbo stumbled and turned on him, swinging the heavy sword in a wide arc. Mark dropped to the ground and the death blow missed him by inches. He rolled to the side and sprang to his feet, waiting for Sarbo’s next move.

"Ho yat Sarbo," Dagon commanded the warrior.

Sarbo hesitated, his sword still raised. He gave Mark a contemptuous look, spat at his feet and swaggered back to his mount.

Mark looked up into Dagon’s eyes. They were like cold, black stones. He couldn’t read any emotion. Why this man continued to spare his life was a mystery.

Dagon ordered Mark back to the line.

Mark hurried to Leeta and looked at her injured foot. The gash was deep, slicing through the clear thin web between two of her toes. Without waiting to see what the men would do, he took the roll of cloth from his boot, gently wrapped the wound and slipped one of his threadbare socks over it. Then he told her to climb up on his back.

A tear slipped down Leeta’s cheek. She nodded gratefully and threw her arms around his neck. Mark shifted her weight and took his place in line.

They moved on.

chapter
22

That night they camped in a small clear-
ing on a tree-studded ridge. The Tsook were running low on food and water so the prisoners had to do without.

The men were restless and their tempers were constantly on edge. Sarbo tried unsuccessfully to pick fights with several of the warriors. Mark did his best to stay out of the big man’s way.

He understood enough Tsook to know that they were almost at the end of their journey, two more days at best. As he rewrapped Leeta’s foot he tried not to think about what that would mean.

"There. That ought to do it." Mark had ripped the insole out of his boot and used it as a cushion for the bottom of her foot. "Does that feel any better?"

She didn’t answer.

He glanced up. The way she was looking at him made him uncomfortable. She had an odd smile on her face, as if she knew something he didn’t.

Confused, he scratched the back of his neck. "I ... guess we’ll be at the Tsook village tomorrow."

Leeta nodded. She gently stroked the broken watch he had given her and kept smiling at him.

"Uh, well, it’s late ... ksee tu. Better sleep now." Mark scooted down on his back and closed his eyes. The last thing he needed was for Leeta to start acting weird on him.

The Tsook had left him untied. He turned over. If ever he had a good chance to escape, this was it. The men were tired and quarrelsome. And they were so close to home they probably wouldn’t even bother hunting him.

On his own he would be able to move faster. He could make it down the mountain in less than a day and then cut cross-country and head straight for the dark jungle.

The dark jungle. Willie had probably given up on him and gone back to live with the other monkey-bears by now. And of course there was the blue light. It was out there somewhere. He had to start looking for it again.

There was no way to be certain, but he estimated that he had been in this world for well over a year. Perhaps even two years. That would make him close to fifteen years old. Had his parents come to terms with his disappearance? Were they getting on with their lives? He sighed, then shifted and opened his eyes. Leeta was still sitting beside him, caressing the watch. He frowned. What would the Tsook do to her if he left?

"You go?" she asked.

How did she know? It was almost as if she could read his mind. Mark stirred uneasily.

He closed his eyes again. "Go to sleep, Leeta."