An Alex Hawk Time Travel Adventure | Book 3 | Return from Kragdon-Ah

by Inmon, Shawn

  Sekun-ak looked at Alex and said, “She is happiest when she is either complaining or healing, so this is her in a good mood.”

  Alex laid a hand on Sekun-ak’s shoulder and said, “Let’s talk to Klipta-ak.”

  Inside the enclosure, most of the men were laying on blankets on the ground. There was a wide range of injuries on display from bandaged heads to broken arms and legs, and a few warriors who looked like they might not ever get up.

  Klipta-ak was walking from man to man, whispering a few words in Lasta-ah, certain that none of the Winten-ah would be able to understand him. Alex made a mental note to ask Harta-ak to linger on the other side of the wall and listen for gossip.

  Alex signaled Klipta-ak to follow him and Sekun-ak outside. He had made the split-second decision that it would be better to speak to him as more of an equal than a prisoner, though both knew the truth of the matter.

  Sekun-ak called for three chairs to be brought out and placed at the edge of the field. They were far enough away from both the Lasta-ah prisoners and the caves that they would be able to speak in private.

  Alex got straight to his point. In the universal language of Kragdon-ah, he said, “Where are your traka-ta?”

  Klipta-ak winced. It was obvious that he was hoping that Alex did not know all of Lasta-ah’s secrets. He was silent for a few heartbeats, then made the decision to cooperate.

  “There is a small encampment a day’s walk to the south. That is where the traka-ta were born, that is where they will always return.”

  “And you brought birds from Lasta-ah with you, so you can send messages home.”

  Klipta-ak squirmed, but said, “Yes.”

  Alex almost heaved a sigh of relief. His plan might work.

  “I want you to write a message to Draka-ak the Younger.”

  “Saying what?” Klipta-ak asked, completely unsure of where this was going.

  “I want you to tell him the truth. That you attacked us, killed some of our villagers and we hunted you down and defeated you. I want you to tell him who is still alive and that we are caring for them.”

  Klipta-ak nodded, as though memorizing instructions he did not understand.

  “Then tell him that if he agrees this aggression between us is over, I will let all of you go home.”

  Both Klipta-ak and Sekun-ak’s head snapped around at the same moment. Neither spoke, but Alex could see the probing questions on both their faces.

  Alex leaned forward, so his face was close to Klipta-ak’s. “When I saw what you did to us—killing my friends and burning their bodies—I told myself that I would do the same to each of you when I found you.”

  Alex leaned back and turned to Sekun-ak, switching to the language of the Winten-ah. “But that only means that this will go on and on. If we kill them, we feel better for a time, then that feeling passes. Then, in another solstice, or three solstices, another group of warriors from Lasta-ah shows up. Maybe they learned their lesson from this time. Now that they know we are not easy to kill, maybe they come up with a different strategy, or send hundreds of men instead of a few dozen.”

  Sekun-ak couldn’t stop himself. “That is the way it has always been. If they attack and kill us, we do the same to them.”

  “When they come back, they will be better prepared. They will kill more Winten-ah. Maybe it is you or me, maybe it is Kinta-eh or Senta-eh. It doesn’t matter who it is. We know it will be someone. I want to do it differently. I don’t look at it as saving the lives of the Lasta-ah. I look at it as saving those of us who would die in the future.”

  Sekun-ak leaned back in his chair, contemplating this idea. Alex could see it was a new concept, which was always difficult to get people to accept. Sekun-ak was not most people. There was a reason he was the chief of the Winten-ah.

  “I see the wisdom of your words. We have to give up our vengeance to save the lives of those who would die.”

  “Exactly,” Alex said, then switched back to the universal language.

  “I will not be able to read what you write, so I will have to trust you. But if you betray me, I can promise it will end badly for you.”

  Klipta-ak blinked, nearly unable to believe his good fortune. It was obvious that until that moment, he had thought he was a dead man walking.

  “I will not betray you, but I do not have a way to write the message or get it to our traka-ta.”

  “Leave that to me. How many warriors do you have back at the encampment with the birds?”

  “We built a small house in the trees to keep the birds and two men. They are all that is there.”

  Alex searched his face, running his mental lie detector.

  “You will lead me there tomorrow. If there are more than two men there, we will kill them, then bring you back here and you will watch all your warriors put to the sword and burned. Do you want to change your answer?”

  Immediately, Klipta-ak said, “No. There are only two men there.”

  “Memorize who of your men is still alive. We will leave for your encampment before first light.”

  Klipta-ak saw that he was dismissed and stood as if in a daze. He walked back to the enclosure, talking to his men.

  Sekun-ak watched him for a moment, then said, “He might be saying, ‘Hold on, don’t die. They’re going to let us go, then we can kill them.’”

  Alex smiled. “I don’t know why everyone thinks you have no sense of humor. You’re the funniest chief I know. And I know at least two or three others.”

  Sekun-ak lowered his voice and said, “Why did you tell him we will not be able to understand his message? Will Harta-ak not be able to understand it?”

  Alex’s smile broadened. “Of course he will. Someone from my time said, ‘Trust, but verify.’ This will be my way of verifying.”

  The next morning, Alex, Senta-eh, Harta-ak and four other armed warriors rode away from Winten-ah with Klipta-ak. Alex and the warriors rode on the tall, beautiful horses, while they put Klipta-ak on Reggie’s Tonton-ah shaggy pony.

  Alex had dressed Harta-ak as a typical Winten-ah and told him not to speak around Klipta-ak.

  Klipta-ak had regained some of his confidence and said, “I guess I will not outrun you on this fine steed.”

  “That’s the idea,” Alex agreed.

  Klipta-ak was the only one who knew where their encampment was, so he led the party, switching unerringly from one game trail to another, leading through woods, across streams, up and down hills and around small mountains.

  They did not bother to hobble Klipta-ak, but Alex noticed that Senta-eh rode with her bow comfortably in front of her.

  For his sake, I hope he doesn’t make a run for it. He’d never make a third step.

  Klipta-ak had been purposefully vague about exactly where the encampment was, but in midafternoon, he held his hand up to stop the caravan. He put a hand to his throat, tipped his head back and loosed a call that sounded exactly like the traka-ta. A moment later, an identical answering call came from up ahead.

  Alex laid a hand on Klipta-ak’s pony, then moved his own horse past him. He came around a bend in the trail and saw two men dropping down a rope ladder with broad smiles on their faces. When they saw Alex, their smiles faded, and they turned to scramble back up.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw Senta-eh and two other archers had nocked arrows and were holding steady aim.

  In the universal language, Alex said, “Stop. Drop to the ground now.”

  The two men looked at the arrows leveled at them, then at Monda-ak who stood at the ready, fur standing on end and growling low in his chest. They quickly did as they were told.

  Alex turned to Klipta-ak and said, “Tell them what is happening.”

  In his own language, Klipta-ak rattled off a long monolog. Alex glanced at Harta-ak, who let him know he was doing as he was supposed to.

  Alex looked up and saw a structure built forty feet or so above the ground. It was a decent platform for something that was only intended to be temporary
. There were crates of traka-ta like Alex had hijacked in Lasta-ah, and a small lean-to. At the base of the tree was a fire pit with a small fire. A hare had been skinned and was lying next to a pot.

  Alex pointed at the two men and said, “Tie them up and sit them over by the tree.” He turned to Klipta-ak and said, “My men will climb up and get whatever weapons they’ve got, then I want you to write the letter. Then write it again. We’ll send both messages out with the traka-ta tonight.”

  Two of the Winten-ah clambered easily up the rope ladder. The search didn’t take long. Two minutes later, they slipped back down with a short stabbing sword tucked into their belts.

  “Go ahead,” Alex said to Klipta-ak. “Write the messages.”

  The rest of the Winten-ah dismounted, and Alex directed them to take the horses to a stream he could hear running a few yards away.

  Alex sat down and looked at the two men who had been left behind. They looked much the same as everyone he encountered in Kragdon-ah—very tall, athletic, dark brown skin, long, wavy dark hair held back in a loose tie.

  The minutes ticked by slowly. Alex felt drowsy in the late afternoon heat. He felt like he hadn’t slept well since his team hadn’t come back many days before.

  Eventually, Klipta-ak climbed back down the ladder and handed two small sheets of paper to Alex.

  Alex turned them over in his hand and looked at the strange characters. There was no similarity to English or any other language that Alex had ever seen.

  “Do these say what I asked you to say?”

  “Of course,” Klipta-ak said.

  Alex nodded, thoughtfully, then over his shoulder, said, “Harta-ak, come introduce yourself to Klipta-ak. Klipta-ak, this is Harta-ak from Lasta-ah, son of Granta-ak.”

  Alex’s eyes never left Klipta-ak’s face, gauging his reaction.

  Klipta-ak’s eyes widened as he looked at Harta-ak. “I... I met your father,” he stammered. “He was a good man.”

  “Until someone killed him,” Harta-ak agreed levelly. He held his hand out and Alex gave him the sheets of paper.

  “Read what it says to me,” Alex said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Harsh Negotiations

  Harta-ak turned the paper until it caught a beam of sunlight.

  “We are captured. The one who burned our city is the devil. He outsmarted us. He trapped but did not kill us all. There are still 23 of us alive.” Harta-ak looked at Alex. “There is a list of men’s names then.”

  Alex’s eyes were hard as flints and he took one threatening step toward Klipta-ak, whose head hung low.

  Harta-ak continued. “The devil says he will let us go if you say you will not attack us. For the sake of us all, send a message back that you will no longer attack Winten-ah. It is signed Klipta-ak.”

  Alex smiled at Klipta-ak. “Devil, eh? I guess I like that well enough.” To Harta-ak, he said, “Can you tell which traka-ta will return here and which will go to Lasta-ah?”

  “Of course. Different cages for different purposes.” He turned to Klipta-ak and said, “You haven’t changed the system, have you?”

  Klipta-ak looked relieved that Alex had not taken offense at being called a devil. “No. It’s as it always was.”

  “I think he’s telling the truth. They don’t ever expect to be in this situation because no one near here knows about the traka-ta. Except you.”

  “Send the messages.” As Harta-ak climbed up the ladder to the cages, Alex called after him, “How long will it take the traka-ta to go to Lasta-ah and back?”

  Harta-ak stopped, running calculations in his head. “At least a full cycle of the moon.”

  Not exactly instantaneous communication, then, but a lot faster than riding a horse a few thousand miles and back.

  “Count the traka-ta, too.”

  Harta-ak leaned over the platform and said, “Eight birds total. Five that are homed to right here and three that will return to Lasta-ah.”

  “Hand down the three that will return to Lasta-ah,” Alex said, climbing up the swinging rope ladder. “I don’t want them sending any other messages.” One by one, Harta-ak turned and handed those three small crates down to Alex, who passed them to Senta-eh. He hopped down the final distance, then walked to the two terrified Lasta-ah warriors.

  “Show me your hands.”

  When they held their hands out, Alex untied them, then used the rope to tie the three bird cages across the hindquarters of Reggie’s furry pony.

  “Klipta-ak, climb up,” Alex said. He turned to the two Lasta-ah who remained. “I am going to leave you here to care for the traka-ta. If you run away, and attempt to go home, they will starve. You are in our territory. Just like we found Klipta-ak and the rest of the men, we will find you, and we will kill you.”

  Alex and his crew mounted their horses and turned back toward Winten-ah.

  When they were a few hundred yards down the path, Senta-eh said, “Was that wise to leave them alone?”

  Alex shrugged. It was a gesture he had never lost and by now, she knew what it meant, though she hadn’t adapted it herself. “I didn’t want to slow us down by having someone walking. If they run off, their traka-ta will die, and I don’t think they want that.”

  “You are too soft-hearted. Sometimes it is better to just kill someone and be done with it.”

  Over his shoulder, Alex said, “Klipta-ak. Will those men try to run away?”

  “No. They are not clever or strong. They know they are safe in the tree, so they will stay there and care for the birds. They know they would be eaten before they made it halfway home by themselves.”

  Alex glanced at Senta-eh, trying to keep the smugness off his face. “And sometimes it is better to let people live.”

  When they returned to Winten-ah, Alex picked back up the project of building his cabin. Sekun-ak offered to give him more workers, but Alex declined.

  “Senta-eh, Untrin-ak, and Harta-ak have all volunteered to help. We will get it done.”

  First thing the next morning, they went to work. Versa-eh sat in the grass beside the growing frame of the cabin, playing with Tinka-eh. Alex watched the two of them together and said, “She takes to Tinka-eh. Before long, she will want one of her own.”

  “She already does,” Harta-ak answered. “But I don’t want the same thing to happen to her as happened to Tinka-eh’s mother. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

  Alex didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. This threat hung over everyone. When birth equaled death for a mother, how could humanity survive?

  The site of Alex’s cabin was located just above the makeshift jail that held the prisoners from Lasta-ah. Klipta-ak in particular took great pleasure in sitting against the far wall of their enclosure and peering up at the progress Alex made. On some days, it was the lack of progress.

  Alex had spoken confidently of being able to build their cabin, and he had done well with laying the logs for the exterior wall. It was very much like playing with the Lincoln Logs he had received as a Christmas gift as a child.

  Other aspects of the build, though—the roof trusses in particular—caused him much angst. Klipta-ak watched Alex struggle with getting his roof up for most of one day before he had quit in disgust. Finally, Klipta-ak had called, “Manta-ak, can I see you when you are done for the day?”

  Alex stood on the edge of the ledge above and looked down on the prisoners. It was an unconscious recreation of the method he had used to capture them in the first place. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes, peered out at the setting sun, and said, “I think I was done for the day a long time ago. I just didn’t know it.”

  Alex walked to the pool of clean water that filled next to his building site, pulled a bucket of water out and poured it over his head, shaking himself like Monda-ak, who woofed with excitement at the opportunity to play a new game.

  Alex hopped down to the ground and walked to the enclosure. There were guards who stood outside all day, but so far at least, they had been unn
ecessary. The Lasta-ah had made no attempt at escape. Alex assumed it was because they thought they would be released outright soon enough and then they wouldn’t have to look over their shoulders.

  Alex walked inside the walls, and Klipta-ak was waiting for him. “Can I tell you what I was trained as?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I was trained to be a builder. So, what does our leader do? He takes one of his best craftsmen and sends him across the wilderness to wreak his revenge.” He lowered his voice so only Alex could hear. “Sometimes, I think our leader is not so smart, but you did not hear that from me.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I am suggesting that it would be less painful for me to help you finish your hut than it would be to sit here all day and watch you not finish your hut.”

  “What do you want in exchange for helping me?”

  “I just want to get outside these walls and smell something other than the farts and bad breath of the rest of my men.”

  “Good enough. Tomorrow I will bring you up where you can smell the farts and bad breath of Monda-ak. It will be even worse, but at least it will be different.”

  The next day, Alex walked Klipta-ak through what he had done, and talked about his plans for finishing the structure.

  Klipta-ak held his chin in his hand, but did not speak.

  Eventually, Alex said, “Go ahead, tell me what you are thinking.”

  Klipta-ak still hesitated, but eventually said, “Do you want to finish it as you have described, or do you want the best home you can have?”

  Some men might have flushed and kicked Klipta-ak off the building site and back down into the enclosure. Alex Hawk did not hesitate. “This is the home I will share with Senta-eh and Monda-ak. I want it to be the best it can be. But,” he added holding up a warning finger, “I don’t want anything grand. Just simple and well-built. Something that will withstand the elements.”

  Klipta-ak picked up a sharp stick and cleared a patch of dirt. “I understand. But, instead of what you designed, what if we change it like this...” He quickly sketched out essentially the same layout Alex had, but with modifications.