The Transall Saga

by Gary Paulsen

  He stepped outside. No one seemed to care. The youngsters circled him, poking his light skin and pointing at his strange toes and eyes. One little boy touched the bottom of Mark’s faded blue jeans. An older child said something in the clicking language and pointed at the claw necklace. This impressed the others and they lined up to get a better look.

  "You guys are lucky I don’t charge admission." Mark side-stepped them and walked across the open compound.

  Two men who were busy decorating a rectangular shield with black and orange dye gave him a friendly nod.

  Mark nodded back. "Hi there. Nice day."

  They looked at each other, shrugged and went back to what they were doing.

  As he walked through the village everyone acknowledged him politely and no one made any effort to stop him.

  The fierce-looking man with the tattoo and the bone through his nose was sitting beside a small fire watching him. He gestured for Mark to come over and join him.

  The man took a long pull on the slender plant stalk he was smoking and then handed it to Mark.

  Mark studied it. The smoldering thing was tightly wrapped with leaves and tied with vines. "My parents aren’t going to like this," he muttered. He accepted the foul-smelling thing and took a short, polite puff. The aroma was so strong it made his eyes water. He coughed and handed it back.

  The man laughed and slapped Mark on the back. "Kakon et tu bet."

  "Kakon?" Mark cocked his head. "You people keep using that word." He put his hand on his chest. "Are you calling me Kakon?"

  The man slapped him harder. "Kakon."

  "Okay, sure. Kakon." Mark sat in silence, watching the activities around him. The women seemed to be working a lot harder than the men. He spotted Leeta in the garden with a digging stick and waved to her. She looked away and kept hoeing.

  Mark turned to the man beside him. "Are you the leader of these people? You know, the head? The one in charge?"

  The man exploded with a barrage of words. His lecture lasted for several minutes and Mark couldn’t understand any of it.

  When the man was finished Mark drew a picture in the sand with his finger of several small stick men. Above them he drew a larger figure holding a club. Mark pointed at the figure and then at the man. "Is this you?"

  There was another stream of words and then the man jumped to his feet and hurried into one of the huts. In a few seconds he came out and handed Mark his club.

  "No, you don’t understand. I don’t want your weapon. I was just ..." Mark looked into the chiefs eyes. He was staring at Mark expectantly as if he was waiting for something in return.

  "You’ve got this whole thing wrong. See, I really don’t have much to trade. Why don’t you just keep it?"

  The chief continued to wait.

  Reluctantly Mark stood and walked to the hut where he had left his things. He studied his small pile of belongings. The problem was, he really needed everything he had.

  The compass. He didn’t need that. Maybe it would be enough. He came out holding the broken instrument in his outstretched hand. At first the little man just stared at the shiny object. Then Mark jiggled it and the silver arrow in the middle changed directions.

  "Ahhh! So so Kakon!’" The leader’s eyes opened wide. He reached for the compass, holding it gently in his palm as if it was very precious. Excitedly he called to the other men. "Tsik ma Kakon."

  The others crowded around and exclaimed over the treasure. Some good-naturedly hit Mark on the shoulder, apparently complimenting him on the trade.

  "It’s no big deal." Mark shifted. "It was broken anyway." He caught Leeta’s eye and moved toward the garden.

  One of the younger men immediately stepped in front of him. "Nah. Yi tsi su Lee-ta. Nah."

  "Look, pal, I just want to talk to her. She and I are old friends." Mark tried to move around him. The man quickly blocked his way and shoved him.

  Mark stood almost a head taller than the young man and he thought about pushing back. He glanced around. Everyone in camp had stopped what they were doing to watch.

  Leeta quit digging and gave Mark a stern look.

  Mark figured he must be breaking one of their customs. He stepped back. "Okay, okay. I don’t want to offend anybody on my first day in town."

  The young man’s face broke into a good-natured smile. "Gott Kakon nee." He took Mark’s arm and led him back to the men.

  Mark sat with them until it was almost dark, watching them shape and hone their weapons, smoke and talk. Mostly talk. They discussed something nonstop for more than an hour. Mark couldn’t understand a word.

  At dark the whole village lined up and moved into the long thatch-roofed hut in the center of the compound. The chief invited Mark inside and indicated where he was to sit.

  There was a fire in the middle of the windowless room and the people sat in a wide circle around it, watching the smoke curl out a hole in the roof. The chief clapped his hands and one of the men began pounding on a skin-covered wooden drum that made a dull sound like a bongo.

  Another man stood up and started moving in rhythm. Mark could tell he was supposed to be a bird flying in the air. The dancer was graceful and quick. He swooped down, as if capturing something on the ground, and "flew" off again.

  When he was finished the chief took over and talked for a long time. The children must have heard the speech before because they became restless and went to the back of the hut to play games.

  "Kakon tsir tu tu se. Kakon."

  Mark jumped when he heard his new name. The chief was motioning for him to stand.

  "Me?" Mark’s eyebrows went up.

  The chief pulled him to his feet and touched the long claws around his neck. "Kakon tsir nto tu."

  "Oh, I get it. You want to know about the Howling Thing. Okay ... let’s see. Well, it’s like this. One day I was out scouting and I was just about to have lunch when I ..." Mark looked at their faces. The people were staring blankly.

  He scratched his head. "I know. I’ll do like the bird man and act it out for you. Like I did for Leeta."

  At the mention of her name the group turned to look at her. Embarrassed, she covered her face. Everyone laughed.

  "Here goes." Mark picked up his new club and started walking slowly around the circle as if he was hunting. He stopped suddenly and held his hand to his ear. Then he crouched low and ran through the crowd until he came to Leeta. He put the club down, dropped to all fours and started growling and clawing at her. She giggled and tried to push him away.

  Stepping back a few feet, he pretended to shoot an arrow at the Howling Thing. Then he reached for the club and readied himself for the beast to attack.

  Here he decided it would be more impressive to alter the story a little. Instead of falling down when the Howling Thing rushed him, he stood his ground and stabbed the make-believe monster until it was dead. Then he put one foot on its head and raised his pretend spear in victory.

  The people all started talking at once. Apparently he was a hit. Mark bowed and sat down.

  The chief patted Mark on the head, then clapped his hands again, and the villagers stood and filtered out of the room, each one patting the top of Mark’s head as they walked by.

  Mark didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

  Leeta hung back. When they were all gone she pointed at him. "Mawk." Then she indicated herself. "Lee-ta."

  "Yes! Oh yes!" Mark grinned. He held out the weapon in his hand. "Club."

  "Ksaa."

  He jumped up and ran to the middle of the room. "Fire."

  She followed. "Tisa."

  "We’re talking." Mark grabbed her shoulders. "Can you believe it? Leeta and Mark are talking."

  Leeta smiled shyly. "Taw-kin."

  chapter 18

  Since no one told him any different, Mark decided to spend the night in the same hut where his belongings were stored. There were several other young men already lying on the dirt floor when he entered. Without complaining they moved and made room for
him.

  Mark lay down but he couldn’t sleep. So much had happened that it was hard to take it all in. One thing he knew: It felt good to be around other people. Especially these people. They were so innocent and friendly.

  He assumed Leeta must have come to his defense earlier when they had captured him. He couldn’t wait to talk to her again. Maybe she knew something about the blue light.

  As usual when he thought of the light, it brought back memories of what life had been like before. He’d been here a long time. Almost a year or maybe more.

  Sleep finally came. But it felt as if he had just closed his eyes when the others in the hut began stirring. Someone was shaking him.

  He opened one eye. It was the same young man who had prevented him from talking to Leeta in the garden the day before. "Kakon gut no ma."

  Mark crawled to his feet and followed the men outside. The women were already up. They had the fires going and were serving bowls of the hot mush.

  There was no talking. The men ate quickly and gathered their weapons.

  Mark finished his food and went to collect his spear and bow and arrows If they were going on a hunting trip he didn’t want to be left out.

  Leeta touched his shoulder. She had a worried look on her face. "Mawk. Se dtsik nah. Nah." She shook her head.

  "What? You don’t want me to go? Sorry, I have to. I can learn a lot from these guys. Besides, I don’t want them to think I’m a sissy or something."

  Leeta stomped her foot. "Nah. Mawk. Nah."

  Mark folded his arms. "Yes, Leeta. Yes."

  She made an angry face and marched to the young man who had awakened him. They argued in a whisper for several minutes. Then she dragged him over to Mark. "Mawk. Tukha."

  Mark nodded at the man. "Tukha."

  The young man seemed upset about something. He motioned for Mark to come with him. The two of them took their place at the end of the line and followed the rest of the men out of the village.

  Once they were in the forest, the group moved into a trot. Occasionally a couple of the men would break off from the rest, then meet them farther down the trail.

  Mark would have liked time to study the new terrain but every time he slowed, Tukha urged him to keep up.

  About noon the group stopped to rest and eat. Mark was amazed at the number of birds they cooked. Somehow, the two men who had kept leaving the group had managed to shoot enough along the way for every member to have plenty of food.

  They were allowed one drink from a skin bag containing water and then they were on their way again. Tukha always stayed at the end of the line with Mark.

  It was obvious they weren’t hunting for small game because they passed up several good opportunities to kill rabbit creatures. Mark decided they must be after something big.

  At dusk the men gathered around the chief, who held out a small skin pouch containing a tarlike substance. Each put his fingers in and smeared some of the mixture on his face.

  When Tukha was finished with his own face he decorated Mark’s. The tribe looked different now. More fierce and warlike.

  They walked silently through the forest for another half hour until they came to a sandy clearing.

  Mark couldn’t believe his eyes. It was another small village. He was excited. So there were other people on this planet. Some of them were bound to know about the light. Someday, when they understood each other better, maybe he could get Leeta to come with him and talk to them about it.

  The men spread out and hid in the bushes until long after the sun went down. Then the chief raised his club. They stormed out of the trees and raced down into the village yelling and screaming.

  Mark started to join them but Tukha grabbed his arm roughly. "Kakon nah. Tsid Lee-ta. Sek tu." Mark wasn’t quite sure what he said except that he didn’t seem to want him to go and it had something to do with Leeta.

  Tukha pointed at the bushes, indicating where Mark was to stay. He raised his club threateningly. "Sek tu."

  "Okay. I’m not stupid. I can tell when I’m not wanted." Mark sat down in the sand.

  When Tukha was sure Mark wasn’t going to follow him, he turned and ran into the village after the others.

  Still not sure exactly what they were up to, Mark moved to his knees so that he could see what was going on.

  The scene in front of him was chaos. The arrow people were setting fire to the huts and running through the compound overturning cooking pots and smashing things.

  Mark was stunned. He didn’t understand. These were supposed to be the good guys. The same friendly peaceful people who had practically adopted him the day before were now doing everything they could to destroy this village and the people in it.

  The men in the huts were taken by surprise but they soon came out fighting. The arrow people were ready. They fought one on one and drove the villagers back into the forest. Women and children ran screaming for their lives. The fire had reached almost every hut and now it lit up the whole area like a giant bonfire.

  To his right, Mark saw Tukha fighting. Tukha tripped and went down. His spear flew out of his hand and one of the villagers began beating him senseless with a heavy club.

  Mark jumped out of the bushes. "Stop. You’re killing him."

  The little man was frightened out of his wits when he saw the tall, light-skinned boy come charging out of the forest. He stumbled backward and ran off in the opposite direction.

  Mark dropped his club, grabbed Tukha’s arms and dragged him back into the brush. He shook the young warrior but Tukha’s eyes didn’t open.

  The other arrow people were coming back now. They were ecstatic because they had managed to chase off most of the villagers and steal everything of value that hadn’t been smashed to pieces.

  The chief raised his hand and was about to give the signal to withdraw when he spotted Mark trying to revive Tukha. He shouted orders and two of the men hurriedly picked up the young man and carried him ahead of the others into the forest toward home.

  chapter 19

  Tukha was dead.

  The village had suspended work and spent the entire day preparing for his last rites. Mark stood in the shadows watching the funeral procession. Six men carried the lifeless body to a raised wooden platform that was decorated with flowers, vines and leaves. They placed him on top along with his spear and shield.

  Tukha’s family, which consisted of his sister—who turned out to be Leeta—and an older woman, walked slowly to the beat of the drum, then covered Tukha’s face with an animal skin.

  Someone handed the chief a burning torch and he touched it to a small stack of firewood underneath the platform. Everyone stepped back to watch the body burn.

  Mark had made up his mind. He couldn’t stay with these people. They were too different. They had wiped out a whole village as if it was a huge game. In the morning he would go back to his tree house and live alone in the dark jungle.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder. Leeta had brought the old woman to him. Her sad eyes searched his face. "Kakon es tat mek Tukha." Tears ran down her wrinkled cheeks.

  "I’m sorry," Mark said. A lump welled up in his throat. "Your grandson seemed like a good man."

  Leeta led her grandmother away and when the fire had completely consumed the body the people crowded into the long hut to talk about the raid, divide the booty and console the family.

  Mark didn’t go. He wished it wasn’t so late. If he could, he would leave right now. None of this made any sense. The arrow people hadn’t really gained that much from looting the village, just a few new weapons, some beads and a small amount of food. Nothing they brought back seemed worth dying over.

  He went into the hut where he’d slept the night before and picked up his things. The hiking boot still contained one tree rock, a couple of pieces of jerky, an empty sock and a few strips of cloth. He had replaced the shoestring with a vine and now he tied the boot to his belt loop. At first light he would be ready to go.

  "Mawk?" Leeta stood in the door.<
br />
  Mark didn’t look up. He grabbed his spear and bow and arrows and brushed past her. His intention was to spend the night at the edge of the clearing and start back first thing in the morning. He would forget these people and their crazy customs and concentrate on finding the blue light.

  Leeta followed him past the huts. He stopped and looked at her. "Where do you think you’re going?"

  "Lee-ta, Mawk, taw-kin?"

  "There’s nothing to talk about. Go back to your crazy people before they catch you out here and decide to kill me too."

  Leeta untied a string of wooden beads from around her neck and put them in his hand. She gave him a sad, confused look and turned to go.

  "Wait." Mark caught her arm. He took off his broken watch and fastened it around her tiny wrist. "Thanks for everything, Leeta. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime."

  She stroked the watch. "Et tkus Kakon Mawk."

  "Yeah, same to you." He put the beads in his boot and walked to the edge of the clearing. When he reached the trees he glanced back over his shoulder.

  She was gone.

  chapter 20

  The air smelled like smoke. It was still dark, too early for the women to be cooking. Mark’s eyes snapped open. There was a heavy, dark cloud hanging over the village. He crawled through the brush to get a better look.

  The meeting hut was on fire.

  His first thought was that the other tribe had come after them looking for revenge. But when he saw the attackers he knew he was wrong.

  These warriors were not simple village people. They rode large long-haired creatures that looked like a cross between a horse and a cow, and their weapons were made of metal.

  The arrow people didn’t have a chance. Those who tried to fight were cut down immediately. Mark saw the chief and several of the men die fighting with primitive clubs against swords and axes.

  Some tried to run. They were chased and either stabbed by the mounted men or trampled by the mounts.

  Mark scanned the grounds, frantically searching for Leeta. He ran into the clearing, calling her name. A wild scream came from the garden area. One of the men had her cornered and was bearing down on her with his mount.