The Transall Saga Part 11

The storytelling and feasting lasted until late. The smaller children had to be carried home and put to bed and some of the men went with them. Other men drank so much they fell asleep at the tables.

Mark found his way back to his cabin and tried to sleep but tossed and turned for hours. It seemed he had just fallen asleep when he awoke with a start.

The Merkon was sitting at his table watching him. "I hope I did not disturb you, Kakon."

"No ... no." Mark blinked and sat up. "I was just taken by surprise a little, that's all. I am not used to people coming into my house unannounced."

The Merkon's lips went white. His eyes seemed to flash beneath the mask. "You are not afraid of me, are you?"

"Should I be?"

"It might be wise. I could easily order your head sliced off and fed to the beasts of the forests." Two of the Merkon's men stood in the doorway. The Overlord waved them away. "Wait outside."

He turned to Mark. "I understand you are interested in finding a certain light. A light with great power."

Mark stood and walked cautiously around the table. "How do you know this?"

"I make it my business to know everything that goes on in Transall."

"Then you know why I have to find it."

The Merkon tapped the table. "I have been told that something has happened to you to make you believe that you are not from our world and that the light is the way out."

Mark folded his arms. "I do not believe ita"! know it."

The Merkon studied him. "Dagon speaks highly of you. For this reason, I have decided to help you. After the ceremony you will travel with me to Trisad. There is an old shaman there. If anyone knows of your light, it will be he."

The Merkon moved to the door, his breastplate clanking and his long cape of skins flowing behind him. "We will leave tomorrow." The tall man pulled the door shut behind him.

Mark dropped to the bench. This put a new twist on things. The Merkon made him feel uneasy. Mark really didn't want to travel anywhere with him and his army of stone-faced bodyguards. But what if this was the same shaman Leeta had told him about? It might be the only real lead he would ever get. He had to go.

His mind was made up. He washed the sleep out of his eyes and stepped outside.

Sarbo was waiting for him, mounted, holding the reins of Mark's gray beast. "Get on, Kakon. Did I not tell you that the race would begin the first thing this morning?"

"You told me. But after last night I didn't think anybody would be too serious about it. Especially you. Didn't I see you fall asleep in your bowl?"

Sarbo stiffened. "I was only resting. If you had not left the feasting when you did, you would have seen that I got my second wind."

"Sure. And what did you do then? Stumble home to your wife?"

"Kakon, if you were older, I would ..."

Mark laughed. "Then I guess it is a very good thing that I am not."

Sarbo threw the reins at him. "Get on your mount. After I trounce you soundly in this race perhaps you will show a little more respect for your betters."

"What if I win?"

"You? That is a great joke. You hardly know how to sit on a beast."

"Then let's make a wager," Mark said confidently. "If I beat you, you will give me your ... new sword."

"Ha! And when I win, you will give me that necklace you are so proud of."

"Done." Mark swung up on his mount and followed Sarbo down the road.

Mark was surprised to find almost every man in the village on mounts, gathered near the buffalo pens. Even some of the Merkon's men were entering the race.

Dagon climbed a corral fence and stood on the top rail. "You will race up the valley to the large sand blossom tree. There Tybor will be waiting with a basket of pagoma fruit. Place a piece of fruit in your teeth and race back. The first man to pa.s.s me still carrying the fruit will be declared the winner."

The villagers lined the beginning of the route. Mark spotted Leeta and Barow waving at him. Megaan wasn't with them.

Dagon continued. "When you hear the horn the race will begin. "

The riders moved into position. Mark found himself between a stranger and Sarbo. He turned to his teacher. "Good luck."

"You are the one who needs luck, Kakon. Get ready to lose your precious necklace."

The horn blew and fifty beasts thundered down the valley, leaving the spectators in a cloud of choking red dust.

Sarbo's animal pulled slightly ahead of Mark. Mark held on with both hands and urged his beast to move faster.

The road was a blur. The animals plowed up the ground, fighting for the lead. A black beast cut in front of Mark and he had to pull up.

Something rammed into his back, knocking him off balance. He grabbed frantically for the mane. His animal kept running and Mark could feel himself slipping. With all his strength he held on, wrapping one arm around the beast's neck.

Inch by inch he lost control, until he went over. His hand was still tangled in the mane when his feet hit the ground, where he flopped around like a rag.

The black animal that had cut him off was now practically on top of him. The rider pulled up beside him, crus.h.i.+ng him against his mount's belly before veering off.

Mark's arm felt as if it would rip loose. He called to the beast to stop but the animal only ran faster, its hooves clipping Mark's side with each stride.

Using his free hand, Mark groped for the reins. His fingers found them and he yanked, sawing on them until the animal finally stopped, its sides heaving.

The race was still in progress. Mark clawed his way back onto his beast and kicked it back into action. Riders were pa.s.sing him on both sides. Ahead he could see the sand blossom tree. Tybor was standing under it hurriedly pa.s.sing out the pagomas.

Mark slid to a halt and waited for Tybor to get over to him. The smith tossed him a piece of yellow fruit. Mark put the small end in his mouth. There was no way he could win the race now but he was determined not to finish last.

He yelled encouragement to his beast and kicked as hard as he could. The gray lunged down the track. It moved even with a group of riders, then slowly pushed past them.

In the distance Mark could see Dagon standing on the rail fence. The gray beast crossed the finish line just ahead of the final group of riders.

Mark spotted Sarbo. He spit out the pagoma and walked his mount over to him. "I guess you beat me. You want the necklace now?"

Sarbo threw his hands up. "I would be glad to take it except for the fact that the fruit dropped from my mouth and I was disqualified. So it is I who have lost the bet."

Mark shook his head. "We'll call it even, then."

The last rider had crossed the line and Dagon wa announcing the winner. Sarbo looked disgusted. "Ha! Do you see that? The winner is Narqua. I beat him back here by a mile. If only I hadn't opened my mouth when I neared the finish."

The crowd cheered the announcement and congratulated the young man. Dagon clapped him on the back and presented him with a wreath of woven leaves.

Several animals filed by, heading back toward the village. Mark noticed one in particular, a large black.

"Sarbo. Who is the rider of that black?"

"I do not know. He is not from here. The Merkon brought him. Why do you ask?"

"During the race it felt as if someone pushed me off my mount. And when I was down, that rider tried to trample me."

Sarbo c.o.c.ked his head. "This is your first race, Kakon. In the past I have seen riders become very reckless. One time a contestant was dragged to death. These things happen. You must not take it personally."

"Everything happened so fast, but I guess you have a point. But what could have hit me hard enough to knock me off?"

Sarbo laughed. "The way you ride, I would say it was probably a feather."

"Very funny." Mark put his heels to his mount. "Maybe you would like to make a wager on the next game?"

"Be careful, Kakon. The next time you may not be so lucky."

chapter 33.

The next game reminded Mark of a cross between football and King of the Mountain, except that the Tsook used the head of a pig-animal instead of a ball and it was every man for himself. The winner was the one who retrieved the head from a wooden bucket fifty yards from the starting line, ran back to a small circle in the center of the field and kept anyone else from taking it away.

Mark's back was still sore from his ride so he played only halfheartedly. Again he noticed that Megaan was not in the crowd of spectators.

The first man to get to the head dropped it and it was immediately scooped up by someone else. The players chased the second man until he stumbled and the head rolled out of his hands. Sarbo grabbed it and raced back to the circle. Another man tried to wrestle it away and pieces of pig head went everywhere.

Sarbo managed to hold on to the skull. Two men charged him and knocked him flying. He hit the ground and the rest piled on top.

When Dagon pulled the last man off, Sarbo was curled up, still holding what was left of the mangled head. Dagon declared him the winner.

Later Sarbo found Mark standing by one of the food tables. "It is a very good thing you did not bet against me this time, Kakon. As I predicted, I am the winner."

"If smelling like rotted brains makes you the winner, then you're right. You won."

Sarbo took a deep breath and grimaced. "I see what you mean. I suppose I must wash. Tell them not to start the next game until I come back."

Mark picked up a piece of bread. He munched on it thoughtfully. It was strange that none of the Merkon's men had partic.i.p.ated in the game. He wondered why.

"There are more games later, Kakon." Barow ran up to him. "Are you going to enter the buffalo ride?"

"Sounds a little risky to me."

"I know you are only joking. You are not afraid of anything."

"Who told you that?" Mark swallowed a bite of bread. "I get afraid just like everybody else."

"Not like everyone else. When I am afraid I find a good place to hide."

"I've done that a few times. Speaking of hiding, where is your sister? I haven't seen her all day."

"She is not feeling well. The last time I saw her she was lying on her mat. And she must hurt bad because I think she was crying. It was probably something she ate last night. "

"Really?" Mark shoved the rest of the bread into his mouth and started up the path.

"Where are you going, Kakon? The next event is about to start."

"Do me a favor and go tell them to wait for Sarbo."

"What about you?"

"I think I'll sit this one out. Hurry. Sarbo won't be too happy if they start without him."

Mark made his way to Dagon's cabin and knocked on the door. Megaan's grandmother opened it. "h.e.l.lo, Kakon. Dagon is not here. I think you will find him at the buffalo pens selecting a bull for the games."

"I did not come to see Dagon. I heard Megaan is sick."

"Let him in, Grandmother," Megaan called.

Mark stepped inside. Megaan was sitting at the table sh.e.l.ling beans. He smiled. "You don't look sick."

Megaan's look was cross. "What do you want?"

"Me? Nothing, I just came to see how you were. Barow told me you were sick."

"You should not concern yourself." Megaan cracked open one of the hard orange pods. "After all, you will be leaving for the jungle soon. What is it to you if I am sick?"

"So that's what this is all about. You're still upset with me. Well, you're wrong. I'm not going to the jungle. At least not right now. Tomorrow the Merkon is taking me to Trisad to see a shaman friend of his."

Megaan put down her beans. "The Merkon? Why would he do this?"

"It was probably something you saida""

"What are you talking about?"

"The Merkon knows all about my past and my wanting to find the light. You and Leeta are the only ones who know about that."

"Th-Then it must have been her," Megaan sputtered. "I didn't tell anybody."

"Except me." Megaan's grandmother sat down at the end of the bench. "I am the one who talked to the Merkon about you. He stayed with us last night and questioned me about you. I did not think it would do any harm to tell him what I knew."