An Alex Hawk Time Travel Adventure (Book 2): Lost In Kragdon-Ah

by Inmon, Shawn

  “My mother was my first teacher. She made sure that I knew every inch of our home, then our village, and eventually the surrounding area. By the time I saw my fifth summer, I could run and play with the other children, though perhaps not as sure-footedly. That summer a group of holy men visited us from their home high in the mountains. They blessed our fields, our hunts, and our women’s wombs, making them fertile. In exchange for such a valuable service, they only asked for one thing. A life.”

  Alex turned sharply toward Tokin-ak.

  The old man laughed. “No, not as a sacrifice or anything evil, just a life—a boy or girl they could take with them and teach their ways. No other family wanted to give up a healthy child, so the village chief told my parents it had to be me. I left with the holy men that day and never returned, until this very summer. That is the visit I am returning from now.”

  Alex absorbed all that.

  Born blind. Learned to adapt. Given to holy men at a time most children are still tied to their mother’s apron strings.

  “What was life like with the holy men?”

  “I was scared those first days. Finally, one of the holy men said, ‘Let’s sit down and cry together. We will cry until we can’t cry any more. But, when we are done crying, we will know that we have given all we have, and there will be no more tears after that.’ And so, we did just that. I cried myself empty, it sounded like he wept with me, and when we were done, we were done.”

  Alex noticed that both Senta-eh and Werda-ak had moved their horses up close behind them, wanting to hear the story.

  “I adjusted to life with them. It is a brotherhood. Most of the days are spent in silence, listening. Most of the world is focused on speaking, on being heard. Our lives were dedicated to the opposite. Just as I once learned every blade of grass in my village, I did the same with our home high in the mountains. Life went by, as it does, and now I am here, near the end.”

  “It almost seems like you were waiting for us.”

  “It almost seems like that, doesn’t it?” Tokin-ak answered with a smile. “Almost as though Lanta-eh reached out to me and asked me to help you.”

  Alex glanced at Senta-eh. She seemed to be absorbing this idea as truth.

  “If you believe such things can happen.”

  “Sometimes, things happen, whether you believe them or not.” Tokin-ak turned his head to the right, as if listening to something no one else could hear. “You will have a choice to make now.”

  They turned around a bend and in front of them. The path diverged into two.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A Fork in the Road

  Alex surveyed their surroundings, determining if it was safe to stop. He saw nothing except the paths in front of them. The only sound was the breeze that whispered around them.

  Alex turned to Tokin-ak. “What is the best path?”

  The old man smiled. “Isn’t that always the question?”

  Alex wanted to ask him if he was going to sound like a fortune cookie, but there was no way to translate that into the language of Kragdon-ah.

  Patiently, Alex said, “Which path leads to the most direct route over the mountains?”

  “To your left.”

  “There. That wasn’t so hard. I guess I just have to learn to ask the right questions.”

  Tokin-ak did not disagree, but simply sat, easy on the back of his alecs-ta.

  Alex clicked his tongue and the caravan started down the path to the left.

  With the decision made, Alex relaxed a bit but still kept a vigilant watch.

  After the battle where Tokin-ak had single-handedly defeated two men with only a stick, Werda-ak looked at him with a sense of awe. He had watched Alex defeat a hardened warrior more than a foot taller than him, but that had passed by unnoticed. There was something about seeing an old man whirling his bo stick that caught the boy’s imagination. That night when they camped, he approached the old man and asked if he would show him some of those techniques.

  Tokin-ak demurred. “I am no teacher. I am only a novice myself.”

  Werda-ak laughed and said, “You looked like a master to me when you broke that big guy’s nose.” He mimed whirling an invisible stick and smashing it into an invisible foe.

  Three days passed after they chose the left path and Alex was glad to have Tokin-ak with them. When left to his own, the old man rode silently, swaying with the rhythm of the alecs-ta. But, when pressed, he was willing to tell them stories he had learned while living in the mountains.

  Alex soon learned that simple wisdom was much the same, no matter what era it comes from. Many of the stories Tokin-ak told were similar to the Aesop’s Fables he had learned from his mother as a young boy. It didn’t matter—the sing-song voice that Tokin-ak told the stories with was soothing and soon became a part of the soundtrack of their journey.

  Late that afternoon, they entered a narrow space between two hills. The path dropped in elevation, which was harder on the horses—particularly their front legs. Alex would have preferred a series of switchbacks to level the hill out a bit, but he had no choice—the path was both narrow and straight.

  As indefatigable as the horses were at slow speeds, Alex did not want to wear them out. When they came to a spot that was wide enough to allow it, they pulled off under a rock overhang that gave them at least some cover from the near-constant rain. They ate from the last of the supplies that the Tonton-ah had given them—they had rationed them as long as they could, but their larder was nearly bare.

  When he had judged that the horses were as rested as they were going to be until they stopped for the night, they started again. Almost immediately, the path began to climb back up, as if they had spent most of the morning climbing down into a canyon and now their afternoon would be spent climbing out of it.

  We’ll need to stop early tonight. Give the horses a chance to recover.

  The good thing about riding a plodding horse is that whether it is on flat ground, going up or down, the pace is about the same.

  Although the sun was setting earlier every day, it was still light when they crested the top of the hill.

  Spread out below them was one of the most beautiful sights Alex had ever seen. There was a sparkling blue lake that spread out as far as they could see both north and south and disappeared over the horizon to the east. A heavy forest spread out between where they stood on the hilltop and the lake.

  “It is like the drawing,” Werda-ak said.

  Alex pulled the map from the saddlebag. He drew a line with his finger from Tonton-ah to the lake. It was a short distance on the map, but it had taken them so long to achieve it. He rolled up the map and tucked it away so he wouldn’t be tempted to try to calculate how far they still had to go.

  An island in the lake glistened with light—fire from torches and firepits.

  Alex turned to Senta-eh. “It’s like Stipa-ah, only on a much grander scale.”

  She put two fingers to her forehead. “You could fit ten Stipa-ahs on that island.”

  Alex didn’t disagree. He could have walked from one side of Stipa-ah to the other in a hundred paces. The island in front of him appeared to be four or five miles in every direction.

  Alex pointed. “But look. There’s no land bridge to the island. Unless someone raises a... a...” he paused. He wanted to say navy, but there was no word in the language to express that. “...a lot of ships, they are completely safe. It’s big enough that they can grow their own food, so you couldn’t even starve them out.” He turned to Tokin-ak. “Did you know this was here?”

  “Det,” Tokin-ak answered. Yes.

  Alex nearly said, ‘Then why didn’t you tell me?’ but he already knew the answer. It was because he hadn’t asked.

  Then, Alex’s stomach lurched. He looked left, to see the lake stretch as far as he could see. Then, right. Same thing.

  I have no idea how far across that lake is, but since it disappears over the horizon even from the top of this hill, it’s got to be at l
east twenty miles. So, there’s essentially no way around or across it.

  He turned to Tokin-ak. “You knew this lake was here. You knew how big it was. I’m going to guess you knew that this path led us right into the middle of it. Why did you not tell me there is no way to get across?”

  Tokin-ak remained unperturbed. “Two reasons. One, I do not know that there is no way across it. And two, that’s not what you asked me. You asked me what the most direct route to the mountains was. This is it. The mountains lie due east of this lake. If we had chosen the other path, it would have taken us longer, but we would have skirted the lake to the south.”

  Alex closed his eyes. He was trying to decide who he was more pissed at—himself, for not asking the right question, or the old monk, who could have helped, but didn’t.

  “So now, we can either try to find a way across the lake, or we can backtrack three days ride until we get back to where the trail forked.”

  “And then,” Token-ak added helpfully, “we will still have the longer ride to the south.”

  Alex estimated the distance from where they were to the island town, then glanced at the sky. It would be dark before they could get there.

  Alex turned to Senta-eh and Werda-ak. “It’s never a good idea to arrive in a new village after dark, and this time we don’t have Untrin-ak to pave the way for us. There was an overhang back up the trail behind us. Let’s go back there and camp for the night.”

  Alex took one last look at the lake that was both beautiful and a frustrating obstacle to him.

  Minutes later, they had stopped and led the animals to a spot where they could drink from the collected rainwater in a rock basin. It was apparent to everyone except Tokin-ak that Alex was in a foul mood, so they left him to grumble to himself while they looked for firewood.

  Werda-ak and Senta-eh returned a few minutes later, defeated.

  “There is no dry wood to be found.”

  “Let’s just sleep, then, and get an early start to the island in the morning.”

  It was a long, rainy, uncomfortable night. For everyone except Tokin-ak, that is. He never seemed uncomfortable or unhappy anywhere.

  Alex, however, tossed and turned on his blanket on the ground, unable to stop beating himself up for making a poor decision. He finally abandoned the idea of sleep somewhere in the middle of the night, and walked back down to where he could see the village on the island below him.

  Torches here and there reflected off the water, but the rest of the town was silent. Alex did his best to quiet his mind and do what Tokin-ak suggested—he listened.

  He listened the only way he knew how—with his ears. The longer he sat there, the more he heard. At first, it was only the wind. Then it was a rustling in the bushes below him—perhaps a bird settling into its nest. After a long enough silence, he swore he could hear bugs burrowing through the grass. In the end, no sudden enlightenment reached his troubled mind. He gave up and returned to the group.

  It was still dark, but they were already up and moving around.

  “Did you find what you seek?” Tokin-ak asked.

  “I don’t know what I was seeking, so no.”

  “That’s the first step, isn’t it? To hold the picture or the question of what you are looking for in the front of your mind. When it comes into focus, you will know.”

  “Now you tell me. I think I like it better when I just have to hit whoever’s in front of me.”

  For the first time, Tokin-ak looked slightly reproachful. “Is that true?”

  In his heart, Alex knew it wasn’t, but he ignored the question, got on his horse, and rode on ahead.

  The day dawned clear. The ground was still wet and mucky, but the sunrise promised a drier day ahead.

  By the time it was full light, the small caravan approached the lake. From here, they could see the island better and Alex was even more impressed by its defensive capabilities. There was no visible low bank. The water splashed against large boulders that would have made it nearly impossible to land a boat and launch an invasion against them. There was a single dock, and Alex wondered if it was possible to retract that, which would make them essentially invulnerable.

  The path dwindled down as they approached the water until it simply disappeared. They rode until they were at the water’s edge, where they dismounted.

  A man floated on a barge halfway between the island and the shore. He was too far away to harm, even if that was their intention. Any arrow shot or stone thrown with a slingshot would have splashed harmlessly into the lake.

  Alex cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Gunta!”

  The man leaned into a device that looked like a wooden megaphone. “Gunta,” he said, his words echoing across the water.

  “We are friends,” Alex said. “We want to cross the lake. Is there anyone who can take us across?”

  The man looked down at his barge, then back at Alex as if to say, What’s this? Chopped liver?

  “Permission to come aboard?”

  The man stared at them, taking in Alex, Werda-ak, and Senta-eh. His gaze stopped at her for a long minute, but that wasn’t unusual—she was a beautiful woman. Finally, his eyes lit on Tokin-ak and his orange robe. “Is that a holy man with you?”

  Alex didn’t know how to answer that. Was Tokin-ak a holy man?

  In a voice that carried over the water, Tokin-ak said, “I am Tokin-ak of Batama-ah.”

  “Forgive me. I did not recognize you from this distance.” Immediately the man picked up a pole and began pushing toward shore.

  Werda-ak looked at Alex. Under his breath, he whispered, “See, I told you he was something special.”

  When the barge got close to the shore, the man dropped an anchor then slipped some planks down to the shoreline.

  With great dignity—perhaps more dignity than Alex had seen him exhibit since they had met him—Tokin-ak rode his alecs-ta onto the barge.

  The man looked suspiciously at the rest of the group. They were a dirty mess after riding day after day through the mud and rain. “Are these people with you?”

  Tokin-ak turned his blind eyes toward them. He smiled. It was an impish smile—that of a mischievous child. Alex knew at that moment he was going to say, ‘I have never seen them before in my life,” but he did not.

  “These are my friends. Please let them board.”

  The man signaled to Alex, who slid down from his horse, signaling Werda-ak and Senta-eh to do the same. They led their beasts onto the barge, which sank appreciably lower in the water as they did. He clicked his tongue at Monda-ak, who stayed close at his heels.

  The four of them and the animals virtually filled the barge.

  Built to this size on purpose, no doubt. That way, if an invading army somehow manages to commandeer it, they still won’t be able to move a large force to the island. Smart.

  The man, who was broad across the chest and had muscular arms, propelled them out away from the shore with the pole, then sat down to the oars and rowed.

  A few minutes later, as they approached the island, he whistled three times—one long, one short, another long. An identical answering whistle came back, and four men stepped from behind a wall and onto the dock. They helped Tokin-ak and his alecs-ta off the barge and onto the dock. They left the others to fend for themselves.

  “I think we’ve been demoted to second class citizens,” Alex observed.

  The barge master returned to them. “Excuse my absence. The holy men do not visit our city often. When one shows up, it is a special occasion.”

  Alex smiled easily. “That’s fine. We just want to talk to someone about getting across the river. Can you give us a ride to the eastern shore?”

  “This barge is not intended for a trip such as that. We would likely be swamped before we made it across. But, we have a larger ship on the other side of the island. If Nanka-ak says it is okay, I can take you across in it.”

  The negative feelings that had been eating at Alex were alleviated slightly.<
br />
  Maybe this was the right choice after all. If we can get across the lake, we’ll have saved ourselves a week’s travel or more.

  “Have there been other travelers that passed through here in the last cycle of the moon?”

  The man thought, but after a moment, he said, “No. You are the first we have seen in several moons.”

  I’ll bet they used the southern trail. If this Nanka-ak says it’s okay, we can make up some real ground on them for a change.

  The whole procession, with Tokin-ak and his escort at the front, wound through the streets. And, unlike most other villages in Kragdon-ah, these were almost real streets. They weren’t concrete, of course, but the dirt was wide and packed down until it was smooth and even the recent rains didn’t make it a complete, muddy mess.

  At the end of the street was a large, communal dining room. It looked like most of the village was gathered there for breakfast. Alex’s nose confirmed that as they entered. Something on the fire smelled good. His stomach rumbled and reminded him that they had not eaten the night before.

  The barge master turned to Alex. “Have you eaten? Would you like breakfast?”

  “Please,” Alex said, raising two fingers to his forehead. Werda-ak and Senta-eh did the same. They found an empty spot at a long table, and sat down. The hall was busy with chatter and whatever attention was paid to them was focused on Tokin-ak, who was led to a seat at the front of the room. A bowl of hot water and soft towels were brought to him to clean himself.

  Alex nodded at him. “I didn’t know we were riding with someone famous.”

  Senta-eh shot him a look.

  “The holy men are revered wherever they go.”

  “Those men who tried to kill us and take our horses on the trail didn’t seem to revere him.”

  “Don’t be thick.” What she actually said in Winten-ah was Don’t be kruku. Kruku was a word that described a difficult and painful bowel movement.

  That made Alex smile. He liked it when Senta-eh insulted him.

  The barge master returned to the table with a tray and three large wooden bowls and spoons. He set them down in front of each of them.