Theon jumped to miss being caught in the tangle of legs as Laran and Garv rolled over and over, each seeking a stranglehold on the other. Bhaldavin wasn’t as lucky and had his legs kicked out from under him. Theon lost his hold on Bhaldavin’s rope as he fell.
Fear constricted Bhaldavin’s throat, and the moment or two he was down on the floor felt like an eternity. Someone stepped on him; booted feet swung close to his face; burning lamp oil raced across the grass mat toward him.
Theon tried to haul Bhaldavin to his feet, but Laran’s companion interfered, catching Theon around the chest and tossing him outside.
Bhaldavin rolled away from the burning mat and finally managed to regain his feet. A loud pounding erupted on the back door. He began backing toward the open doorway, his attention on Garv and Laran.
Suddenly Garv bellowed in anger and lurched upward, breaking Laran’s hold. He started toward Bhaldavin, but had taken no more than a step or two when Laran jumped him again.
Bhaldavin thought he saw the flash of a knife in Laran’s hand, but the dancing firelight made it difficult to be sure.
Something caught at Bhaldavin’s rope. “Come on, Little Fish, move!” Theon yelled. “Garv! Let’s go!”
Theon thrust Bhaldavin out into the front yard, not waiting to see if Garv followed.
Two men appeared around the side of the house. Theon pushed Bhaldavin away from him and turned to face the men, his knife raised. One man skidded to a halt in time to save his life; the other man couldn’t stop and took Theon’s first thrust in the stomach. He screamed and fell away just as the second man closed in, his own knife raised.
Bhaldavin wasn’t interested in the outcome of the battle and turned to run—straight into the waiting arms of another of Laran’s men. He fought to keep his feet as the man tried to wrestle him to the ground.
“Be careful with the Ni, Barry!” someone yelled. “Don’t hurt him!”
Bhaldavin bit down on the arm snaking around his neck. His attacker swore and struck out. Bhaldavin saw the man’s fist and ducked, but he didn’t move fast enough. The fist caught him on the jaw, knocking him sideways. Before he could recover, the man’s weight descended on his back, pushing him to the ground. Something sharp stabbed across his forehead as the man pushed his face down into the grass.
Suddenly the knee in his back was gone; the hands holding him down were ripped away. He rolled over and saw Gangers straddling him, the knife in his hand dripping blood. The man who had attacked him lay on the ground a pace or two away.
Something wet and warm dribbled down his forehead into his eyes. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision.
Gringers left Bhaldavin where he lay and, like a night shadow, flitted around behind the man who had Theon backed up to the outside wall of the cabin. He moved so quickly and quietly that Laran’s man wasn’t aware of his danger until too late.
As the man fell, Laran and Garv appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the burning cabin. They struggled chest to chest for possession of the knife in Laran’s hand.
Laran brought his elbow around and caught Garv in the face, breaking Garv’s hold. Faster than the eye could follow, Laran brought his knife down, driving it into Garv’s left shoulder. Garv bellowed in pain and staggered back, pulling the knife from Laran’s grasp.
Gringers leaped forward, confronting Laran and giving Theon a chance to reach his brother’s side. Laran took one look at Gringers’s face and saw his death. Choosing to live, he turned and ran, darting around the far side of the house. Gringers started after him, then halted and came back.
Unable to use his arm, Bhaldavin rolled onto his back and sat up; from there to his knees took a moment longer. He was almost to his feet by the time Theon and Garv approached.
“Are you all right, Garv?” Theon asked worriedly.
Garv grunted.
Gringers ran up and caught at Bhaldavin’s rope. He saw the blood dribbling down Bhaldavin’s face and wiped his hand across the place where the skin was welling blood. “You’ll live,” he said.
“Garv’s been hurt, Gringers,” Theon said.
“Bad?”
“His shoulder’s bleeding.”
Garv saw the possessive way Gringers held Bhaldavin’s rope. “Little Fish is mine!” he snarled, pushing Gringers’s hands away. “He goes with me!”
Theon and Gringers exchanged a look. Theon shook his head. “Let him alone. We haven’t time to argue. Let’s get going before Laran returns with reinforcements.”
It took them only minutes to reach the western gate. Theon greeted the gate guard with a wave. “We want out, Kelly. Open up.”
The guard stood within the glow of a lantern hanging from a hook in the stockade wall. “This late?” he asked, surprised.
“We haven’t time to talk,” Theon snapped. “Just open up.”
The man looked suspiciously at the splotch of wetness growing down Garv’s front. “What’s going on?”
Bhaldavin heard voices coming from somewhere behind them. Theon heard them too and stepped toward the small side gate.
“Theon, wait,” Kelly said. “Before you open that gate, you’d better tell me what has—”
Gringers interceded, his knifepoint ending the man’s objections. “Just stand quietly and you won’t be hurt,” he said softly.
Bhaldavin turned and saw the flicker of torchlight down the roadway leading to the gate. Then he was being pushed along by Garv, who followed Theon through the gateway. Gringers brought up the rear.
“Where’s your boat?” Theon asked, as they started down the narrow pathway into darkness.
Gringers took the lead. “Follow me. It’s not far.”
Gringers stayed on the dirt path for a short distance, then stepped off the trail near a large aban tree. Theon moved aside to let Garv and Bhaldavin go ahead of him.
“Hurry, Gringers,” he said, glancing back. “They’re going to try to follow us. I can see their torches.”
“How many?” Gringers demanded.
“Can’t tell. Just keep going!”
Blinded by the blood in his eyes and at the mercy of a jerk on the rope, Bhaldavin lost his footing and went down. Garv never hesitated; he simply leaned down, picked Bhaldavin up under his good arm, and kept going, Theon urging him on from behind.
Bhaldavin struggled and demanded to be put down. Garv ignored him and kept after Gringers, who reached back and caught at Garv’s sleeve in order that he not lose him in the darkness. Theon, in turn, held tight to the back of Garv’s tunic.
Bhaldavin finally stopped fighting, closed his eyes, and ducked his head, trying to avoid the branches that whipped by his face. Suddenly he noticed the wetness on Garv’s tunic as it soaked through to his own clothes.
Bhaldavin felt a change in the air as they neared the river. Suddenly Garv began to make strange sucking noises, as if he couldn’t get enough air. A moment later he stumbled and went down to a knee.
Bhaldavin felt the big man shudder. The arm around him slowly loosened, and he slid to the ground. Before he could sit up, Garv keeled over and landed on top of him. He knew a moment of panic as the big man’s weight pushed him facedown into the ground, then something warm and wet gushed over him. The smells of blood and urine were strong.
“Gringers!” Theon cried, hands anxiously pulling at his brother. “Garv is down!”
“I’m here,” he told Theon as he knelt over Garv. “Let me look.” Sensitive fingers quickly checked for life signs.
“Is he out?” Theon demanded.
“Not out, Theon,” Gringers said. “I think he’s dead.”
“Dead?” Theon echoed. “But he can’t be! He was just—”
“He’s dead, Theon. He must’ve been hurt more than you thought. Come on, help me get him off the Ni. Hurry! I hear someone coming.”
Theon swore softly as he helped Gringers pull the hulking form off Bhaldavin.
“Are you all right, Bhaldavin?” Gringers asked as he drew Bhaldavin to his fe
et.
“Yes,” Bhaldavin answered. He peered out of one eye and saw Theon kneeling by Garv’s body.
“Dead,” Theon mourned. “Dead because I can never let things alone.”
“I’m sorry, Theon,” Gringers said. “I know what he meant to you. But there’s nothing you can do for him now. We can’t take his body with us, and those who follow will be here soon. Do you stay here and bury him, or do you come with me?”
Theon didn’t respond.
“Make up your mind, Theon! We left men dead back there,” Gringers snapped. “Stay if you think you can brazen it out, or come with me. A raftman’s life isn’t so hard.”
The sounds of pursuit grew near. Theon looked up and saw lights flickering through the trees behind them.
“Go on. Lead the way,” he said. He stood up, his hand closing around Bhaldavin’s arm. “Go! I’ll take care of Little Fish. He’s mine now.”
Chapter 6
IT WAS DANGEROUS TO TRAVEL ANY WATERWAY ON VER-DRAAK in darkness, but staying in the vicinity of Fisherman’s Landing that night would have proven far more deadly had Laran and his men found them. Gringers led the way to his boat and, when Bhaldavin and Theon were aboard, pushed it off and guided it out into the river where the current was strongest.
“How far are we going tonight?” Theon asked.
“There’s a reasonably safe place about an hour downriver. We’ll stay there the night and continue on at first light. It should give us a good lead in case anyone decides to follow.”
“How long will we have to stay in Natrob?”
“Uncle Seevan should be about finished with the trading, so I’d say a day or two, no more than that. Why?”
“News travels with the wind. It won’t be long before everyone on the river is looking for us. The quicker we are out of Natrob, the safer we’ll be. What will your uncle say when he sees the two of us?”
“We’ll have to hide Bhaldavin for a few days, until we’re well into the swamps. As for you, I doubt you’ll be welcome on the Homeraft, but Seevan can’t say very much if you stay on my raft.”
Theon snorted. “If you believe Seevan will accept my presence among the Ardenol clan without saying a few choice words, you are as crazy as a skitter.”
By morning Bhaldavin was stiff and sore, and grateful when Theon released him. The small man helped him strip, then rinsed Garv’s dying gifts of blood and urine from his clothes and hung them to dry. After Bhaldavin had sluiced down, under the watchful eyes of both men, Theon rebandaged his arm and all three sat down to eat.
A short time later they got back in the boat and Gringers paddled them out of the side channel where they had stayed the night. A flat wooden platform perched high in the branches of an aban tree had served to keep them safe from night-wandering draak and gensvolf. Such platforms were scattered up and down the river and were known by all of those who plied the waters of the Obway.
Gringers’s boat was cut and hollowed out from a single oro tree. Sharp wooden points extended from either end, and man-length spears with barbed heads were fastened along the gunwhales.
Before taking up his paddle, Theon leaned over and tied Bhaldavin’s ankles together, then looped a rope carefully around his chest and arm.
“Is that necessary?” Gringers asked.
Theon looked up. “Yes, if you want to keep him. He’s small and has but one arm, but he can move fast when he wants to. Am I not right, Little Fish?”
Bhaldavin turned and looked out across the river, not answering. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Theon give him a mock bow.
“Your pardon, Green One, I forgot. It’s Bhaldavin now and not Little Fish. I’ll try to remember.”
Propped against a pack and tied, Bhaldavin watched the trees along the banks slip quietly by. The waters of the Obway were clear and fairly shallow, which explained why neither Theon nor Gringers seemed overly concerned about running afoul of any large water draak—the velnara, or water-kings, always migrated downriver to the deeper swifter channels leading to the sea. Only the young water draak stayed in the shallows and upland rivers, and often they could be frightened off by raised voices or splashing oars.
Land draak were far more threatening to man than their water cousins, because on land the two species were in direct territorial competition.
Thoughts about men and draak made Bhaldavin realize that of the two, men were far more dangerous to the Ni, because a draak could be controlled by any one of seven different songs, but what songs did one sing to touch the hearts of men?
The journey downriver took two days. Theon was quiet most of the time. Gringers respected the other man’s grief and did not intrude upon his thoughts. Bhaldavin ignored both men and thought of nothing but escape.
It was late afternoon when they reached the docks of Natrob. Ra-shun was already low on the western horizon; Ra-gor, the smaller of the sister suns, was still overhead.
Gringers guided the boat past a line of stakes set at intervals around the docks to keep away all but the smallest of water draak. Theon threw a line around a dock post and pulled the boat up close to the dock. While Gringers secured the boat on the other end, Theon removed the pack from behind Bhaldavin’s back and told him to lie down flat in the bottom of the boat.
“Why?” Bhaldavin demanded.
Theon jerked him backward by his hair. “Never mind why. Just do as I say.”
Theon unrolled a blanket and flipped it out. Bhaldavin started to sit up as it settled over him. Theon pushed him back down. “Stay down!” he growled. “Or I’ll sit on you.”
The boat rocked as Gringers stepped up onto the dock. “I won’t be gone long,” he promised Theon. “I want to talk to Seevan a few minutes, then I’ll find us something to eat. Stay with the boat and keep the Green One hidden.”
Time passed. Bhaldavin grew warm under the blanket. He rolled onto his right side and pushed his face into a gap between boat and blanket, where breathing was easier.
As the minutes crept by, Bhaldavin let his mind wander, his thoughts flitting from the moment he was knocked back to his senses by a blow from Garv’s fist to the moment of Garv’s death. Everything had happened so fast that he’d had little time to sort things out.
Though he was unable to move anything more than his head, fingers, and toes, escape was uppermost in his mind; but he realized that until Theon and Gringers let down their guard, he would have to play the docile prisoner. A cunningness born of fear and anger took control. He relaxed, feeling suddenly calm and clearheaded. He would escape these two men, and he would survive to return to his home to find out what had happened to his family. He would—or he would die trying.
It was growing dark by the time Gringers returned. “Any trouble here?” he asked Theon.
Theon climbed up onto the dock. “Two men stopped and looked me over, then moved off. What took you so long?”
“Seevan was busy. I had to wait until he’d finished talking to Sar Gainor, owner of the town mart. The trading hasn’t gone as well as expected. Our crop of spidermoss is half what we harvested last year, and Seevan is having to do some hard bargaining just to get us the things we’ll need for the rest of the season.”
“But you did get a chance to talk to your uncle.”
“Eventually.”
“Did you tell him about me?” Theon sounded worried.
“Yes. He told me I was a fool to take you on, that you’d be more trouble than you’re worth.”
Theon snorted. “I love him, too. Did he say how soon before he’ll be ready to leave?”
“Three days.”
“Three! We can’t stay here three days. Someone from Fisherman’s Landing is sure to come downriver looking for us.”
“I know, that’s why we’ll leave here early tomorrow morning. There’s a spot a few days up the Brayen Channel where we can wait for Seevan and the others. I told Seevan I might go ahead.”
“Did he ask why?”
Gringers stepped down into the boat. “He has
other things on his mind right now and could care less what his crazy nephew is doing.”
Gringers drew the blanket back and leaned down to release Bhaldavin’s legs. “Theon, you take Bhaldavin up to the shore and wait for me. I’ll take the boat over to the other side of the wharf, away from all the traffic. It’ll make it easier for us to leave unnoticed tomorrow morning.”
Bhaldavin was stiff, sore, and hungry, but he made no complaints as he walked beside Theon. Without Garv to act as a buffer between himself and the small man, Bhaldavin knew he would have to tread carefully, for Theon was unpredictable, his mercurial nature making him difficult to outguess.
The rafters’ camp was deep in shadow by the time they arrived. Gringers chose a place away from the campfire’s glare and left Theon to watch Bhaldavin while he went to get them something to eat and drink. Many of the rafters had not yet returned from town, so there were few there to bother them.
After supper, Gringers noticed Bhaldavin trying with his one hand to massage his legs. He pushed Bhaldavin’s hand away. “Here, let me.”
Bhaldavin meant to object, but as Gringers’s strong supple fingers worked their way up his leg, kneading out cramps and relaxing the muscles, he changed his mind.
“Feel better?” Gringers asked.
“Yes,” Bhaldavin replied, unsure of how to take the man’s ministrations. Until that moment, he had known nothing but pain and fear from the man.
“The ropes won’t be forever, Bhaldavin,” Gringers said. “Only until we know you can be trusted not to run away. You see, I have a dream. It lies beyond the Draak’s Teeth. And with your help, that dream may just come true.”
Bhaldavin could not see Gringers’s face clearly in the dark. Curiosity stirred, and he leaned forward. “What is your dream?”
“To find man’s beginning. An old friend of mine believes that if we can find a place called Barl-gan, a place where the First Men lived when they came to Ver-draak, we will uncover mysteries that will help us tame the land and all of its creatures and perhaps even tell us more about the Ral-jennob.”
Beyond the Draak’s Teeth Page 6
