The Transall Saga Read online

  Willie waddled over and crawled into his lap. Mark put down the arrow he was working on. "All right. Maybe I have enough—for now. I guess I have been kind of ignoring you lately. Come on. Let’s me and you take a walk up to the pool."

  Mark patted his shoulder. This signal meant the monkey-bear was to climb up on his back. Willie’s long furry arms clung to Mark’s neck.

  Leaving the dark jungle always made the little guy nervous, and the only way he would agree to go was if Mark carried him.

  At the pool they stopped for a cool drink. Mark stared at himself in the water. He was so different. His hair hung down to his shoulders and his weapons and necklace made him look like an ancient warrior.

  The chunky kid who had begged to hike across the missile range hadn’t really been in very good shape. But this kid, the one who stared up at him from the pool, was lean and tough. His forearms were thick and solid, corded with muscle. Now he could climb straight up any of the vines into the tops of the highest trees and even hang by one arm while he collected tree rocks. His senses were tuned and he was becoming a good hunter. The previous night’s dinner was proof of that. He’d had his first taste of roasted screaming bird, taken with an arrow high in one of the trees.

  Mark watched Willie playing in the water on the other side of the pool. "How about going on a short scouting trip with me, boy? We won’t go far. I’ll have you back by supper, promise." He patted his shoulder and Willie ambled around the spring and easily jumped up on Mark’s back.

  Mark walked for more than three miles in a direction he’d never had a chance to try before. The trees began to thin out and the hazy yellow sky was clearly visible. He had become so accustomed to the shade of the jungle that he had to squint to protect his eyes.

  The grass only grew in patches here, and for the first time he could see large areas of ground. It was a lot like the dirt on Earth and he guessed that all planets were pretty much the same. What was it Carl Sagan had said? Oh yeah, we’re all made out of star stuff—carbons and acids and stone and gas. Dirt was dirt, whatever the planet.

  He let it run through his fingers. The next day he would scout longer. Take his bow and quiver of arrows and spear and see what lay beyond the forest. Maybe take Willie with him for company. See how this planet worked.

  chapter 14

  "Come on I said I’d carry you. What’s your problem?" Mark folded his arms and scowled at the monkey-bear in the tree house. Willie had climbed to the top branches and refused to be coaxed down.

  "You are such a baby. Okay, fine." Mark picked up his weapons and food stores. "But don’t say I didn’t offer. You won’t see me for a couple of days."

  Willie clicked and screamed and shook the branch hard.

  "What’s with you? Do you know something about that part of the forest I don’t?"

  The monkey-bear continued to shake the tree and make irritating noises.

  Mark shrugged. "If you’re worried about me, don’t be. I killed the Howling Thing, remember? So just hold down the fort and I’ll be back." He turned and walked across the meadow. Willie’s clicking followed him until he was out of sight.

  Heading in the same general direction he had taken the day before, Mark hurried through the forest. When he reached the thinning trees he slowed. There was not as much cover here and he would be a target for some enemy, like a buffalo creature.

  He walked until late in the afternoon without stopping. For reasons he couldn’t explain he was extremely anxious to see what lay beyond the trees.

  But food was a necessity. Finally he stopped to eat. He wanted to sit in the warm dirt and enjoy the feel of it on his skin, but he knew better. It wasn’t wise to stay out in the open. Instead he chose a spot in the shadow of a tree and ate a quick snack of a tree rock and a piece of jerky made from the meat of the Howling Thing.

  A new sound came from overhead. Mark craned his neck and searched the leaves. A great bird with a round head like an owl was scolding him for using its tree.

  Mark’s eyes narrowed. The feathers. They were the same red and black as the ones in the first arrow. The one made by the arrow people. Perhaps the people were close.

  He started out again. Walking was easy. The tangled bushes and underbrush had gradually disappeared, taken over almost completely by red sand.

  Dozens of large rabbit creatures similar to the one in his meadow jumped out ahead of him. They hopped on their hind legs like kangaroos and scurried into holes near the tree roots in the sand. Mark made a mental note of the new food source.

  By dark he was wishing he had worked harder to figure out a way to carry water. The juice in the tree rocks was good but he had been moving quickly and had worked up a powerful thirst for pure water. He would just have to wait.

  The day had ended before Mark was ready. He had hoped to find the edge of the forest by nightfall but the trees, though sparse now, seemed to go on forever. Unless it rained or he found water, he would have to go back the next day. Food wasn’t a problem. He could hunt, and he’d almost perfected starting a fire by hitting the back of his pocket knife against a rock he carried in his pocket. If he had the right tinder, sparks would fly into the dry leaves and start them blazing.

  After smoothing the sand under one of the scrawny trees, he lay down and rested on his elbows. He chuckled, remembering when building a fire with matches had been difficult and without matches impossible. His father had taken him camping several years ago and they wound up spending the night huddled in cold sleeping bags because they had somehow let their matches get wet.

  Thinking of his dad made him feel guilty. It had been five days since he had tried to locate the blue light. He shrugged it off. Making the arrows was important. Eating was important. Living was important. His parents would understand.

  It was strange to be able to see the sky at night. Near the dark jungle the only thing you could see when you looked up was trees. The black was overpowering here and he realized that he missed seeing stars.

  He lay back and stared into the darkness. Maybe the stars were up there but the ugly yellow haze was just hiding them.

  He closed his eyes and imagined stars.

  chapter 15

  It was early morning. They moved within twenty yards of where he was lying. His eyes were open but he lay absolutely still, not wanting to give away his position.

  There were five of them, uncovered from the waist up and obviously females. They were dressed in skins and their black hair hung long and loose. They were carrying large pots and made no effort to be quiet. One of them laughed loudly at something another said.

  People, he thought. Planet people. Not so very different from Earth people.

  When they were safely past, Mark moved to his feet, gathered his supplies and followed them carefully.

  They took a well-beaten path, which he probably would have missed if he’d given up and turned back that day. Mark darted from one tree to the next, trying to remain hidden. Soon a vaguely familiar sound reached his ears.

  Water. They walked to a small creek that wound its way through the sand and trees. Mark crept as close as he dared and watched.

  The girls had dark, olive-colored skin and small eyes with an extra fold of skin on the lids. They spoke a strange clicking language. One walked with a limp and didn’t carry a pot. She knelt to drink from the trickling creek and Mark could see the soles of her feet. They had a thick padding, and all her toes were joined by a weblike covering.

  When the pots were filled and the girls ready to go, Mark silently moved off the path. They passed right in front of him. Compared to him they were small, standing only about as high as the middle of his chest.

  The girl with the limp was last. He got a good look at her injured leg. She had been severely wounded and the torn flesh was just beginning to heal.

  Mark’s eyes widened. The wound looked as if she had been raked ... with claws. She had to be the one in the tree when he had killed the Howling Thing. He wanted to step out and call to her but w
as afraid he might startle them, so he held back.

  He trailed them through the scraggly trees and sand into another dense stand of forest. It would have been hard to track them in these woods, but someone had gone to a lot of trouble to hack out a wide path.

  The girls stopped to give their injured companion a chance to rest. She sat down on a stump in the middle of the path and waved them on. When they wouldn’t go, she said something sharp in the clicking language and waved again. This time they picked up their pots and moved down the trail.

  Mark chewed his lip. He had to talk to this girl, but how? She wouldn’t understand him.

  He waited, watching her, hoping to discover a clue. She was pretty in a strange way. Her skin was flawless, and except for her small eyes and flat, tumed-up nose she looked a lot like people from Earth.

  Mark made his decision. Quietly he slipped out of the cover of the trees and stood on the trail in front of her.

  She jumped to her feet, her eyes wide with fright. "Mawof Ta Ta Mawof." The girl was poised to run.

  Mark stepped back. "I won’t hurt you. See." He set down his weapons and held up his hands. "I want to be your friend."

  Her terrified eyes went to the claw necklace. "Kakon ne wat te!"

  "That’s right." Mark touched the long claws. "I saved you. I killed the Howling Thing."

  Down the trail they heard someone calling. "Lee-ta? Wak ta to ek?"

  "Is that your name?" Mark asked. "Leeta?"

  The girl stared at him. She had relaxed but still looked scared and confused. "Na to nuk. Na to nuk." She pointed into the forest, edged around him and hurried down the trail.

  Mark hesitated. What should he do now? The girl had pointed into the trees. Why? What was she trying to tell him? He picked up his things. The trees could wait. Right now he wanted to see where Leeta and her friends were headed.

  There was no danger of losing them. The trail was wider than most of the bike paths back home. He let them get far ahead and then started off. This area reminded him of his jungle except it had more colors. The plants and trees were not as red and the flowers had tinges of white, yellow and orange.

  Eventually sounds of voices and movement came from just beyond the trees. Mark crept closer, lay on his stomach and watched in amazement. Before him, in a large clearing, was an entire village of huts made of sticks. Most were small and round except for the long one in the middle. Some women were roasting meat over an open pit and others were using sharp sticks to dig in a garden. Several children were running in and out, playing a game with a rock attached to a long vine. The men were carving with primitive stone tools or sitting around the fire smoking.

  It was like a scene out of prehistoric times. The arrow people wore the skins of animals Mark didn’t recognize. There was nothing modem here, no metal tools or cooking utensils. Everything came from their surroundings and was fashioned by their own hands.

  The girls took the water pots inside one of the huts. Leeta stayed outside and kept glancing nervously back toward the forest. An older woman spoke to her and she reluctantly went into the hut.

  Mark waited a long time but Leeta didn’t come out. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. He crawled back into the dense brush and sat on his heels. Now that he knew where the arrow people were he could come back anytime. And because the girls had shown him where the water was, he could stay in this area indefinitely.

  First he would eat. Then he would plan how to meet the arrow people.

  chapter 16

  The water from the creek tasted good, even better than the pool water. In the sandy forest he had made a good shot at one of the rabbit creatures and now he was preparing to roast it over a small fire.

  He had decided the smartest thing to do would be to wait in the trees near the spot where he had confronted Leeta. Maybe she would be curious enough to come back and look for him.

  A twig snapped behind him. He reached for his spear and turned. There was nothing.

  Mark frowned. His ears must be playing tricks on him. Cautiously he stepped behind the fire and waited. There was no other sound, no movement.

  After a few moments he went back to his cooking. The green limb he was using as a skewer worked well enough, but he had to be careful not to get too close to the flame when he turned it.

  The juices from the sizzling meat dripped into the fire and made a wonderful smell. He quit turning the meat and reached behind him for a tree rock.

  His boot was gone.

  "What the ..." Mark looked all around the fire. He could swear he’d had it a few minutes before.

  He turned the rabbit meat one more time and took it off the fire. Then he picked up his spear and walked down the trail a few yards. His stomach grumbled, so he decided to go ahead and eat and search for his boot later.

  But when he got back to his fire the rabbit was gone. So were his bow and arrows.

  Leeta. She’d pointed in this direction and caused him to come here. It had to be her. Angrily he stomped out to the footpath. "Leeta! I know you’re out there. Leeta? Bring my stuff back."

  A tree rock dropped on his head. He looked up. There she was, sitting calmly on one of the branches, going through his things.

  Mark rubbed his head. "That’s not funny." He jumped and made a grab for her and she climbed higher.

  "Don’t make me come up there." Mark started to climb. The strange girl dropped everything except the bow and quiver. She quickly inserted an arrow, pulled it tight and pointed it right between his eyes.

  "Now hold on." Mark put his hands in the air. "You’ve got everything backwards. You’re the thief here. I just want my stuff back."

  Her chin went up. "Tso tso Kakon ne."

  "What does that mean? Can I at least get my dinner? I’m starving." He edged toward the rabbit, which had landed a few feet away in a clump of grass.

  "Nah. Nah." She shook her head and motioned for him to move away.

  Mark stopped. "Look, this is stupid. If you’re hungry"— he rubbed his stomach—"I’ll give you some." He pointed at the rabbit meat and then at her.

  She studied him a long moment and lowered the bow a few inches. Mark grabbed the rabbit, brushed off the grass and walked back to the fire.

  He pretended he wasn’t interested in her, added some sticks to the fire and finished roasting the rabbit.

  She was quick. Even with her injured leg she was able to climb out of the tree almost before he could blink. But she wouldn’t come any closer.

  He continued to cook, and when the rabbit was done he tore off a piece and offered it to her. She only stared.

  "Suit yourself." Mark took out his knife and opened one of the tree rocks. She watched in fascination. He held out half to her. It looked as if she might take it but then she stepped back.

  Mark stuffed himself, wiped his hands on his pants and thought about what to do next.

  Leeta seemed nervous. She kept looking over her shoulder. Mark was afraid she was about to leave. Jabbing his chest with his finger, he said, "Mark." Then he pointed at her. "Leeta." He went through it again. "Mark ... Leeta."

  It didn’t seem to faze her. He tried a different tactic. This time he touched the claw necklace, growled, picked up his spear and stabbed the air.

  A small giggle escaped her lips.

  He put the spear down. "So you think I’m funny? Well, at least that’s something." He sat back on his heels. "Okay. You talk to me."

  She continued to stare at him with bright, shiny black eyes. Behind her there was movement. Mark jumped up, but before he could reach for his spear he was surrounded.

  Leeta’s tribesmen had their weapons trained on him. Mark glanced around. He had named them wrong. They were the arrow people all right, but they also had clubs, blowguns and primitive crossbows.

  A fierce-looking man with black dots tattooed across his forehead and a long, thin bone through his nose stepped in front of the fire. He looked angrily at Leeta. Then he raised his club.

  It was the last thing Mark saw
before he blacked out.

  chapter 17

  His forehead hurt and his arm was swollen and sore from the sting of the blow dart. Mark held his head and sat up. He was sitting on a dirt floor inside a round hut.

  Whispers followed by peals of laughter came from the open door. Mark turned. Several small children were watching him.

  He stood up and hit his head on the ceiling. The children howled with laughter.

  "You guys are kind of short, aren’t you?" Mark looked around the small room and spotted his gear lying near the wall. It was all there, his boot, compass, knife, spear, and bow and arrows.

  He scratched his head. None of this made sense. If he was a prisoner, why would they let him keep his weapons?

  An old woman with short gray hair and a stooped back entered carrying a large red leaf and a carved wooden bowl with a glob of steaming white mush in it. She put it down in front of him and knelt. "Kakon ke ity."

  Mark looked at the mush. "You want me to eat that?" He raised his hand and mimed putting something in his mouth.

  The old woman nodded enthusiastically. "Kakon ke ity."

  He squatted on his heels and picked up the leaf. "You wouldn’t try to poison me, would you?"

  The woman gave him a wrinkled smile, revealing that all her front teeth were missing.

  Mark scooped up a small portion of the mush with a piece of leaf and tasted it. It was bland but not awful. He took another bite. The woman and children continued to stare at him. Self-conscious, he hurriedly ate the rest, wiped his mouth and handed the woman the bowl. "My compliments to the chef."

  She smiled again and backed out of the hut.

  Mark followed her to the door. There was no guard. The children were the only ones paying any attention to him. Everyone else was busy with their daily routine.