The Transall Saga (8 page)

chapter
25

"A windmill? What’s that?" Barow pushed

the door open so that Mark could carry in the heavy wooden buckets of water.

"It’s a wind-powered machine that can bring water up out of the ground."

"What sort of nonsense are you filling his head with now?" Megaan knelt by the fire, stirring the stew in a large hanging pot.

"It isn’t nonsense." Mark set the buckets on the table. "Where I come from no one carries water. It is piped right into your house and when you want some all you have to do is turn a handle and out it comes."

Megaan laughed. "And I suppose you can have your choice of boiled or freezing cold?"

"As a matter of fact, you can."

"What will you come up with next? This morning you told him that your people are able to fly above the clouds inside metal birds." Megaan handed Mark a bowl of hot stew. "This is quite a magical place you come from."

"Don’t make fun of him, Megaan." Barow pointed at the claw necklace around Mark’s neck. "He is a brave warrior and he knows many things. What about the drawings he made in the dirt? Did you ever see such wonderful things— tall buildings, carts on four wheels that go by themselves, and a box with changing pictures? If it wasn’t true, Kakon would not say it was."

Mark ruffled the little boy’s hair. "I’m glad someone around here believes me."

"Hrummp," said Grandmother. "Megaan, why do you let Barow trail around after that savage? Nothing but trouble will come from it."

Megaan turned. "Kakon is harmless, Grandmother."

"Harmless? I’ve seen him eyeing your father’s old crossbow above the fireplace. One night we’ll all be killed in our sleep."

"Speaking of sleep..." Megaan yawned and wiped her hands. "It’s time we all turned in. They will be bringing in the harvest tomorrow. There will be more work than we can handle. Come, Barow."

Barow leaned close to Mark. "Someday, when I am chief, I will order her around." He stood and followed his sister and grandmother into the sleeping room.

Mark gulped down the rest of the stew. He moved to his mat to wait. It was almost too easy. Megaan and her family were used to hearing him move around at night. No one considered the possibility of his escape, because he was hampered by the leg iron.

He let hours pass before he moved to the fireplace and reached for Dagon’s old crossbow and quiver of arrows.

He stooped to pick up the bar and slipped quietly out the door. A dog howled in the distance, reminding him of what had happened the last time he’d tried to escape.

At the woodpile he grabbed the short ax and hurried behind the house and through the garden. He headed across the fields. Dagon’s overseer had taken the field hands to work down the valley for the big harvest, and there would be no one to hinder him.

Steadily Mark made his way to the top of the first hill. He stopped and looked back, thinking of Leeta. If he went back for her they would both be caught and this time Dagon might not be so generous. There was nothing Mark could do. He would just have to go on alone.

After the first ridge he picked up the pace, scrambling through the trees and brush as fast as he dared in the darkness. By morning he would be so far away that they’d never find him.

chapter
26

It was early. The sun wasn’t quite up and Mark’s footsteps were dragging. The only time he had stopped during the night was in a secluded valley, where he’d built a small fire to heat the metal chain. When he had it hot enough he used the ax and pounded at it until one of the links broke.

After that he had kept moving, afraid to stop for fear someone in the house had discovered that he was missing and sent out a search party.

True to his plan, he stayed in the worst possible terrain. The brush and rocks would make it harder for the riders to come that way. But he was still anxious. The Tsook knew the area better than he did. They might know a way to circle around and get ahead of him.

Mark moved down a shadowy gorge, looking for an out-of-the-way place to hide and rest for a while. A noise ahead stopped him.

Someone or something was coming his way.

He scrambled up the side of the hill and hid behind some trees. His heart pounded in his ears. Surely the Tsook hadn’t caught up with him this soon.

In seconds a party emerged from the shadows. They were small men with streaks of blue and black paint on their faces and chests. Their heads were shaved except for one patch of long hair in the back. The only clothing they wore was a breechcloth hanging from a piece of leather around their waists.

They carried blowguns and spears. A few had swords, axes and bows like the Tsook. Mark counted thirty-seven of the small men as they passed silently in front of him.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who they were. Around their necks the men wore bones and shrunken skulls. Scalps with long black hair decorated their weapons. These were the Rawhaz whom Dagon and his men were looking for.

And they were headed toward the Tsook village.

Mark was torn. With the warriors gone, the villagers were in terrible danger. And Leeta was back there. He thought of little Barow, who followed him around and hung on his every word. Even Megaan with her superior ways didn’t deserve to be dinner for the Rawhaz.

He had to go back. As soon as the Rawhaz were out of sight, he came out of hiding. There was only one way to beat them to the village and even then it would be close. He had to take an open route and use the road.

Either way it was dangerous. If the cannibals didn’t find him and he managed to get to the village first, the Tsook would probably kill him before he had a chance to explain why he had come back.

Mark’s tiredness disappeared and was replaced by a frantic urgency. He sprinted up one hill and down the next, stopping only a few times to catch his breath and grab a drink from a mountain stream.

It was midafternoon when he reached the red valley and the road that led to the village. He jogged past the buffalo pens. The scouts spotted him and gave a single blast on the horn.

"Rawhaz!" Mark sputtered. His throat was so dry he could barely get the word out.

The blacksmith and two warriors who had stayed behind were standing in the road waiting for him.

One of the warriors grabbed him. "What is the leader’s slave doing carrying a weapon and running loose among the people? Has Dagon’s daughter gone mad to allow this?"

Mark swallowed. This was incredible. These men hadn’t been out looking for him. They didn’t even seem to know he was missing. Megaan must not have reported it.

The warrior shook him. "Speak up, fool. Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

"Yes." Mark gasped for breath. "The Rawhaz ... are ...coming."

The blacksmith stepped back. "How do you know this thing?"

"I ... saw... hurry... they can’t ... be far."

"Go back to your master’s home, slave. I will sound the alarm. But be warned. If this is some kind of trick..."

"No... trick. I saw ... with my own eyes."

The warrior let Mark go, shoving him in the direction of Dagon’s house. Mark stumbled and continued down the lane.

Megaan was standing outside the cabin working on a hide when she saw him. She glared at him. "So you have come back. Did you forget to take something else that was not yours or were you just too much of a coward to keep going?"

Mark half fell against the cabin wall. He waited until he could speak clearly. "I didn’t have to come back."

"Then why did you?" Megaan spat the words at him.

"The village... I ran into some Rawhaz headed this way."

The tower guard blew the alarm.

Megaan hesitated, but only for a second. "Come this way, Kakon. We must get Barow and my grandmother to safety. There is a cave down the valley in the white rocks not far from here."

"You go on ahead. I’ll catch up with you. I have something to do first."

"The slave girl?"

Mark nodded.

Megaan touched his arm. "The cave is hidden. Look for a dead tree with its roots exposed." She turned and ran into the house.

Mark hurried back through town. People were running everywhere. Some were leaving the village, pushing carts and carrying their belongings on their backs. Others were preparing to fight.

He pounded on the door of the square, thatch-roofed house. The old woman opened it a few inches. "What do you want? I have no time for you. Go back to your master."

Mark shoved the door open, knocking the woman back. "Where is Leeta?"

"You insolent dog!" the woman screamed. "I will see you whipped for this."

Leeta stepped into the room. "Mawk. Run away. Now is time. Go-hurry. Go-hurry."

"Not without you." Mark took her hand. He looked at the old woman. "You can come with us. I know about a hiding place."

"I would rather die."

"So be it. Come, Leeta. There’s not much time."

The street was still in turmoil. There was another long blast on the horn. The warrior who had stopped Mark on the road earlier galloped his mount to them. "Can you ride, boy?"

"A little. Why?"

"What you said was true. Our scouts have located the Rawhaz. All our men are needed to fight. We need you to ride for Dagon or the village will be lost."

Leeta grabbed his arm. "No, Mawk. No do this. Please no."

Mark sighed. "Leeta, go down the valley. Look for a dead tree in front of white rocks. A cave is there. Tell Megaan I sent you. Go on. Do what I say. Later I’ll come for you."

Leeta bit her lip and moved away.

The warrior slid to the ground. "Take my animal. You’ll find Dagon somewhere to the east in the badlands. The Rawhaz will not attack until nightfall. I think we can hold them off ... for a while."

Mark pulled his exhausted body up on top of the beast. The animal shied sideways and he held on with both hands.

The warrior caught the bridle and handed Mark a hunting horn. "Blow this and Dagon will come to you. Now hurry." He slapped the animal’s haunches with the flat part of his sword and it lunged into a dead run.

By the time Mark gained control of the animal and could look back the warrior was already out of sight.

chapter
27

The creature beneath him was larger and more powerful than any of the horses Mark had ridden on his uncle’s farm. Every step the muscular animal took seemed to ripple through its entire body.

And this was the first time Mark had ever ridden without a saddle. The thin blanket stretched across the wide back of the animal wasn’t made for comfort.

Mark let the beast choose the direction, hoping it would take him to one of Dagon’s familiar campsites. He’d never been on this side of the mountain and had no idea where to look for the Tsook leader.

When he was safely away from the village he blew the horn. There was no answer.

The countryside here was different from what he had seen so far of Transall. This area was bleak and lifeless. The trees had thinned out and the cracked ground was an ugly gray sand.

He rode for miles across the parched open land, blowing the horn now and then and listening for a return call. But the only living things he saw were some long spotted lizards and a few big ugly birds that resembled vultures or turkeys.

It dawned on him that he hadn’t eaten anything for a long while. He thought about trying his luck with Dagon’s crossbow but knew there was no time. He nudged the animal with his heels. Night was falling and the Rawhaz would begin their attack soon.

Mark’s eyelids grew heavy. "Wake up," he told himself. "There are people back there counting on you." He blew on the horn until his lips hurt from the effort.

The animal kept moving, its hooves tapping out a steady rhythm. Mark laid his head on the shaggy animal’s thick neck and knotted one hand in the long, tangled mane. The giant beast plodded on, unaware that its rider had fallen fast asleep.

Mark dreamed of the elusive blue light. It was right in front of him. But every time he got close it moved just out of his reach. He chased it but it never stayed in one place long enough for him to catch it.

Then something felt different. The animal had stopped. Mark sat up, wiping at his eyes. The sun was up and they were far away from the mountains. He had slept through the night. He grabbed the horn from around his neck and blew.

On the horizon he could see a band of five or six riders approaching at a gallop. He sighed with relief. Dagon or some of his warriors had finally heard him and were on their way. The village might still have a chance.

Mark pulled his mount to a stop and waved. The animal seemed nervous. It stamped the ground and refused to stand still.

"What’s the matter with you?" Mark squinted into the distance. The beasts pounding toward him were Tsook, all right. But the riders weren’t. They were much smaller. More like the... Rawhaz.

Mark whipped around, dug his heels into the animal’s sides and jerked it into a lumbering run. There was no cover here. Nowhere to hide. Mark exploded across the desert, blaring out notes on the horn as he went.

Twice he glanced over his shoulder. They were gaining on him. If he didn’t shake them soon, they would catch him.

To his right was a small barren bluff. He changed direction and headed for it. In front of the bluff were dozens of small rodent holes. Mark saw them, but not soon enough. His beast stepped into one, stumbled and went down.

Mark flew over the animal’s head and slammed against the hard ground. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs. Gasping for breath, he crawled to his feet. The animal was still down, moaning softly, its front leg jutting out at a sharp angle.

A cloud of gray dust boiled toward him. The Rawhaz had changed direction too. In minutes they would be on him.

Mark examined the crossbow. It was still intact. He grabbed the quiver of arrows, scrambled to the other side of the fallen beast and lay down on his stomach. Taking the arrows out of the pouch, he inserted one in the bow and placed the rest within easy reach.

The beast rocked back and forth, trying to get up, grunting in pain. Mark stroked its back. "Just lie still—it won’t be long now."

The Rawhaz were just yards away now. Mark took aim at the closest rider and let go. The arrow struck the little man in the shoulder and he twisted and slid off his mount.

Quickly Mark reloaded and fired again. This time his aim was off and the arrow ripped into a beast’s chest. The animal fell, rolling head over heels and crushing its rider.

The men kept coming. Mark fired and missed. Arrows and dans landed all around him. One pierced the neck of his mount and the creature stopped moving.

Mark raised himself up to shoot again and narrowly missed being kicked in the head by a giant hoof as one of the Rawhaz jumped over him. Mark flipped around and sent an arrow flying into the man’s back.

Pain shot through Mark’s leg. He looked down. The tip of a spear had grazed the fleshy part of his thigh. Blood was oozing out.

The two remaining Rawhaz had dismounted and were slowly circling around his dead beast.

Weakly Mark reloaded. He knew he couldn’t get them both, but one cannibal was definitely going down.

He lay still, his breathing low and even, waiting for them to come.

Someone shouted. He heard footsteps running away. Mark pulled himself up to see what was happening. The two Rawhaz were trying desperately to catch their mounts.

In front of him, the Tsook were charging toward them. Dagon and his men raced across the desert, firing a volley of arrows as they came. The Rawhaz fell before they could mount.

Dagon slid to a stop and noted the bodies scattered about. He rode around Mark’s beast to see who had done all the fighting. His eyes widened. "Kakon? What in the name of Transall ..."

Mark took a ragged breath. "There’s no time to explain. I was sent to find you. The village is in danger. Another band of Rawhaz is attacking them. You’ve got to hurry. It may already be too late.’’

"Sarbo, bring up one of the Rawhaz mounts for Kakon." Dagon turned to Mark. "Is your wound bad? Are you able to ride?"

"I think so. But don’t wait for me. You must go."

Dagon dropped his water pouch and supply bag in the dust beside Mark. "Here, Kakon. When you are able, come back to the village. We have much to talk about." He gave the command and the warriors moved out at a run.