Beyond the Draak’s Teeth

by Marcia J. Bennett

  Gringers looked up at Birdfoot. “He can’t walk any farther tonight. He has to rest.”

  Birdfoot pointed to Gringers and motioned him to pick the old man up.

  “You want me to carry him?” Gringers asked. “Where? To some place close?”

  Birdfoot nodded.

  Gringers nodded to Hallon. “Help me pick him up. Careful.”

  Birdfoot started walking as soon as Gringers had Diak in his arms. There was nothing to do but follow.

  A short time later, Hallon relieved Gringers of Diak’s weight, but had carried him only a short distance when suddenly they came to a wall of rock. Birdfoot led them toward a narrow fissure that turned out to be a wedgelike opening in a wall of stone.

  “I don’t like places like this,” Theon complained as they entered the fissure. “What if there’s a rockslide? We’d be buried before we could even turn around.”

  “Quiet!” Gringers snapped. “Just keep moving.”

  Theon muttered darkly, then fell silent, and kept as close to Gringers as possible.

  The fissure widened slightly, and a few minutes later they stepped out onto what appeared to be a stone terrace. They followed their guide to the left and down a half-dozen man-made steps. Birdfoot stopped in front of a wooden door.

  A building! The first they had seen on this side of the mountains. Birdfoot’s light gave no hint as to the dimensions of the building, but Bhaldavin got the impression of great size. The battered door swung inward on squeaky hinges. The room beyond the door was long and narrow; the stone floor was littered with dry leaves. Four large open windows faced east.

  Birdfoot closed the door behind them and walked past, beckoning them to follow him through another doorway and down some steps.

  There were wooden benches in the next room and a fireplace with dry fuel stacked neatly for use. Birdfoot quickly built a four-tiered pile of branches and lighted them using his strange box. Once sure that the fire had caught, he stood and stepped away, offering the fire to his guests.

  Hallon began to make Diak comfortable with blankets near the fire.

  “Is this where we stop?” Theon asked.

  Gringers glanced at their guide. “I guess so. Let’s see what we have left for food.”

  “I wonder if Birdfoot is hungry?” Bhaldavin asked softly as Theon helped Gringers look through their packs.

  Theon snorted. “Birdfoot! I like that. It’s a perfect name for him.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Gringers admonished, glancing at Birdfoot, who had moved back into the shadows.

  “Are we going to invite him to eat with us?” Theon asked, whispering.

  “Yes. Maybe we can get him to talk to us.”

  Theon glanced at their guide, then turned back to

  Gringers. “Do you think he is like the First Men? I mean, maybe we aren’t their descendants if they’re all like him.”

  “Birdfoot, as you call him, is not exactly what I was expecting to find,” Gringers admitted.

  “Gringers!”

  Bhaldavin’s cry came from the other side of the room. He was standing in an open doorway looking back at them. “He’s gone. As soon as you turned your back, he left. I was going to follow him, but he turned off his light when he saw me.”

  Gringers picked up a lighted branch. “Theon, you and Bhaldavin stay by the fire with Diak. Hallon and I are going to do a little looking around.”

  They weren’t gone long, but Theon looked greatly relieved when they returned. “Did you find him?”

  Gringers settled down by the fire. “No. Just more rooms like this one. All empty.”

  “Is this Barl-gan?”

  “I don’t know, Theon. It could be.”

  “Are we going to stay here the night?”

  Gringers dropped another small branch into the fire. “It looks safe enough, and Diak is in no condition to do any more walking right now.” He slapped Diak’s leg affectionately. “Are you, old man?”

  “I’ll be all right by morning,” Diak answered. “I’m just a bit tired, is all.”

  “Do you think Birdfoot will be back tonight?” Theon asked.

  “We’ll keep a watch just in case. If he doesn’t return by morning, we’ll do some exploring on our own.”

  Bhaldavin joined the men near the fire. “Gringers, do you think Lil-el is somewhere nearby?”

  “I’d say so, yes. Our three-toed friend indicated he’d seen her, so he probably knows where she is now, and since he brought us here, I wouldn’t be surprised if his friends didn’t bring Lil-el here too. I’m hoping we’ll find out tomorrow.”

  Hallon filled a small pan with water and rigged it to hang over the fire. “I think this is Barl-gan,” he said, turning to Gringers. “That light box Birdfoot carried is proof that some of the knowledge of the First Men has not been lost.”

  “It’s a wondrous tool,” Gringers said.

  “More weapon than tool, I’d say,” Theon commented.

  “It seems to be both,” Diak said. “That he didn’t use the weapon on us when it would’ve been so easy for him to do so makes me wonder what he sees in us.”

  Theon cracked a hait nut and popped the meat into his mouth. “His next meal maybe. Personally, I didn’t like the look of Birdfoot’s teeth. I’d bet he could crack bone with a single bite, and I don’t mean fish or bird bones.”

  Gringers frowned. “You’re gruesome.”

  Theon gave him a lopsided grin. “Just considering all the possibilities, friend.”

  Bhaldavin was the last on watch that night. He walked to the open doorway leading to the room above theirs and glanced out through the open windows. Streaks of mint green had appeared in the sky, signaling Ra-shun’s return.

  He turned back to the shadowy room behind him. It was time to wake the men and continue their search for Lil-el. He was halfway across the room, when suddenly he saw a flicker of movement in the doorway on the other side of the room.

  “Gringers, Hallon, Theon. Wake up!”

  The three men scrambled to their feet, weapons in hand, just as Birdfoot and his cohorts formed a loose circle around them. Bhaldavin backed up until he stood with the others. He counted seven man-creatures. Three had feet similar to Birdfoot’s, the other three had feet more closely resembling a true man’s foot, but even they seemed outsized and lumpy.

  Birdfoot faced Gringers, his light box pointed at Gringers’s chest. One other held a similar weapon, the other five were armed with long knives.

  “Put your weapons down.”

  The order came from out of the darkness near the lower doorway. “Obey, and you will not be harmed.”

  A short hunched-over figure moved out of the darkness and limped forward. A huge gensvolf stalked beside him, held in check by a rope around its neck.

  A shiver coursed down Bhaldavin’s spine as the gensvolf and his master came to a stop beside Birdfoot. He had never heard of anyone taming a gensvolf.

  A man’s face peered out from under the hooded cloak that covered the figure from head to feet. The man’s beard and hair were white; wrinkles about his eyes and mouth spoke of advanced age.

  Theon tugged on the back of Gringers’s tunic. “Look at his feet,” he whispered.

  “Normal. I see.”

  Pale blue eyes regarded Gringers and the others with interest. “Do you put down your weapons, or must we take them from you?” The words were in trader.

  Gringers glanced around at the circle of faces. Two of the man-creatures were quite fair to look upon; the others were all deformed in some way: too large teeth, a broken nose, blotchy complexion, a fold of skin that showed the scars of stitching.

  The old man touched Birdfoot’s hand. A flash of light shot out. Hallon yelled as the light touched his wrist. His sword clattered to the stone floor as he clutched his hand to his chest.

  Birdfoot swung the light box back to cover Gringers before the man could even think to move.

  “I won’t ask again,” the old man said.

&nbs
p; Gringers slowly lowered his sword point to the floor. “Are we your prisoners?”

  “Perhaps. It might depend upon where you come from.”

  Gringers straightened. “We come from the swamps of Amla-Bagor over the Draak’s Teeth. We look for Barl-gan. ”

  “The Draak’s Teeth? What are they?”

  “The mountains to the west,” Gringers explained.

  “There is no way over those mountains. They are impassable.”

  Gringers glanced at Birdfoot, then looked back at the old man. “I don’t wish to argue with you, but we did cross the mountains.”

  “I think you are lying. I think you come from the Wastelands to spy on us.”

  Gringers shook his head. “No. You’re wrong. We didn’t come to spy or to take anything from you. We only come to find. Among my people there is a legend about the First Men. We call them the Ral-jennob or Sun Travelers. It’s said that they came to this world on a great metal ship; that they founded a city called Barl-gan. It is told that they had great medicines that prevented them from getting sick.” He pointed to the weapon in Birdfoot’s hand. “And that they had magic weapons like that.”

  Gringers looked at the old man. “I swear, we want nothing from you but the truth behind these legends.”

  “You want the truth of Barl-gan,” the old one said softly.

  Gringers’s face lighted with excitement. “Yes!”

  The old man threw back his head and cackled, a laugh reminiscent of that which had come from Birdfoot. “Death is the truth!” he cried. “The only truth! Death stalks the halls of Barl-gan dressed in robes of darkness and decay. He is a cruel lord. He kills slowly and painfully because he takes away all hope.”

  The old man stepped closer to Gringers, keeping the gensvolf close beside him. “Lord Death is the truth of Barl-gan, and none can escape him.”

  “You’re just trying to frighten us,” Theon muttered.

  “Frighten?” The old man had heard Theon’s softly spoken words, and he shook his head. “No, I don’t try to frighten. I only warn.”

  He looked up at Grangers, a malicious smile on his wrinkled face. “Well, what will it be? An escort to Barl-gan? Or a run back to the Wastelands?”

  Gringers glanced at his friends, then looked down at the light box still pointed at his chest. “We wish to be taken to Barl-gan,” he said firmly.

  “Then give us your weapons. Only the citizens of Barl-gan are allowed weapons in the city.”

  Gringers handed Birdfoot the hilt of his sword. “Give them your weapons,” he ordered the others, “and gather our things. Diak, can you walk this morning?”

  Diak got to his feet. “I can walk, but before we go, may we ask your names?” he said, looking at the old man.

  The old man hesitated, then nodded. “A reasonable request. I am Kelsan Watcher.” He touched Birdfoot’s arm. “This is my grandson, Gils Watcher. The others are Aldi, Enar, Rolf, Davi, Jon, and Lachen. And your names?”

  “I am called Diak. These are Gringers, Hallon, Theon, and Bhaldavin. There was one other with us. We became separated several days ago. Her name is Lil-el. Gils hinted that he might know where she was. Is it possible that she’s been taken to Barl-gan ahead of us?”

  Kelsan’s smile widened. “It’s possible. I was told that a woman had been found wandering the forest west of Lake Thessel.” His glance found Bhaldavin. “Her hair was said to be green, like yours. Is it dyed?”

  “No,” Bhaldavin answered. “We are Ni.”

  “Ni. I do not know that word.”

  “The Ni-lach are known as the Green Ones. They were here on this world before the First Men, or so it is said. Where we come from, Ni and men work together to survive,” Gringers said.

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Ni or men?”

  “Both.”

  Gringers shrugged. “There are probably three to four thousand rafters in Amla-Bagor. Annaroth must hold fifteen to twenty thousand people, and Port Bhalvar and Port Sulta are even larger. I don’t know that anyone has ever even tried to take a count.”

  “He lies!” one of the bird-footed men growled. “There are a few small tribes in the Wastelands, and that’s all. He only tries to impress us with—”

  “But what if he tells the truth?” another cried. “It would mean that Barl-gan can live again. With new blood we could—”

  Kelsan cut them both off. “Enough said. Come. Bring them. Barl-et-Bara will learn the truth from them.”

  “Who is Barl-et-Bara?” Theon asked.

  Kelsan’s chin lifted with pride. “Barl-et-Bara were chosen by God to lead us. They are strong, intelligent, and unique as only God could make them. Truth for truth, they will give as they receive. Lie to Bara, and he will know it. Lie to Barl, and he will summon those who serve Lord Death.”

  Chapter 23

  BARL-GAN WAS A VAST MOUNTAIN CITY BUILT ON TIERS of rock that clung to the mountainsides as a child clings to its mother. It was built at the easternmost edge of Lake Thessel, which was connected to the other lakes farther east by the Selvarn River. The scenes in Diak’s box hadn’t prepared any of them for the size of the city. The stone buildings were utilitarian in design. Dirt and stone paths led past massive buildings, some of which were actually cut out of the mountainsides; narrow, switchback stairways wound up and down between the different levels, past scrubby fruit trees and garden plots long untended.

  Bhaldavin glanced in through an open doorway of one of the stone buildings and thought he saw something slink around in the shadows. He remembered Kelsan’s words about death stalking the halls of Barl-gan and moved closer to Gringers, who walked beside him.

  “I don’t like this place,” he said softly.

  “You’re not alone,” Gringers replied. “It’s the emptiness. We’ve been in the main city for over an hour and have yet to see anyone. Thousands must have lived here at one time. What happened to them, I wonder?”

  “Gringers! Diak has to stop,” Hallon called.

  Gringers stopped and turned. Diak’s face was chalky white, and he was breathing hard.

  “Can’t stop now,” Kelsan said, coming back from the lead. “Barl-et-Bara waits for us.”

  “My friend is old and sick,” Gringers began.

  “No matter,” Kelsan interrupted. “It isn’t wise to make Barl-et-Bara angry. The old one can be carried. Gils! See to it!”

  Birdfoot signaled to two of his men. They formed a chair with their arms and quickly scooped Diak up.

  Diak caught Gringers’s glance and shook his head. “I’ll be all right with them. Go on.”

  Gringers looked at Hallon. “Keep an eye on him.”

  “Will do.”

  Theon caught Gringers’s arm as they started out again, following Kelsan up a narrow dirt pathway to the next level. “The more that old man talks about Barl-et-Bara, the more nervous I get,” he whispered. “I’m beginning to think it was a mistake to give up our weapons.”

  “We had no choice,” Gringers said. “You saw what they did to Hallon. I’ve no doubt but that Birdfoot could’ve killed him with that light weapon if he’d wanted to.”

  “So what are we going to do?”

  “Nothing for the moment. We came to learn about Barl-gan, and I for one do not intend leaving here until I satisfy my curiosity.”

  “Curiosity could kill you in a place like this, I think.”

  Theon frowned. “There’s something about old Kelsan that rubs me the wrong way, and that’s saying nothing about Birdfoot and the others. I’ve got a bad feeling about this place. It tells me to get out of here as fast as I can.”

  Bhaldavin felt much the same, but for him there was no choice of running away, not with Lil-el being held prisoner somewhere in the city.

  They continued their upward climb and finally reached a large plateau where stone buildings were sheltered under giant aban trees. A great stone wall defended the plateau; not even the largest of land draaks would be able to damage such a thick wall.
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  A bird-footed youth and an old woman stood guard at the gate. Both were dressed in furred vests and pants. The old woman’s face and scrawny arms were pockmarked and discolored; her toothless grin as they passed made Bhaldavin nervous. He turned and looked back and saw the old woman and boy swing the gate door closed, its unoiled hinges squawking loudly in the morning air.

  Theon met Bhaldavin’s glance as the lock on the gate thunked into place. “Stay close, Little Fish. We don’t want to lose you like we did Lil-el.”

  Gringers started to speak, but was interrupted by sharp squeals of excitement. Suddenly six or seven children swung down from nearby trees. They dropped to the ground and raced toward the newcomers, waving sticks and laughing. They varied in size and age, the youngest being no more than seven. Five were boys, two were girls. Three displayed birdfeet and one a too-large skull.

  They ran past Kelsan and his men and bounded in and out around Gringers, Theon, Hallon, and Bhaldavin, their sticks tapping legs, stomach, or buttocks as they shouted and numbered their victims.

  Theon instinctively dropped to a fighting stance, but Gringers maintained his poise, the delighted looks on the faces of Kelsan and his men alerting him to the meaning behind the gamelike performance of the children.

  “Stand still,” he said to the others.

  Theon received a harder blow to the legs and lunged after the boy who had chosen him as a target. Gringers caught Theon by an arm and brought him up short.

  “Stand still, I said,” Gringers hissed softly. “It’s only a game.”

  “Game be damned,” Theon snarled. “That hurt.”

  Kelsan let the children run a few seconds longer, then he clapped his hands twice and told them to behave themselves. He gave Theon a look of disapproval, then waved them all forward.

  “Come. Barl-et-Bara waits for you.”

  Bhaldavin kept a wary eye on the children as they joined the small procession, for they were like no other children he had ever seen. There was something in their faces, in their eyes, in the very way they walked that seemed feral and threatening.