by Gary Paulsen
The horn blew and fifty beasts thundered down the valley, leaving the spectators in a cloud of choking red dust.
Sarbo’s animal pulled slightly ahead of Mark. Mark held on with both hands and urged his beast to move faster.
The road was a blur. The animals plowed up the ground, fighting for the lead. A black beast cut in front of Mark and he had to pull up.
Something rammed into his back, knocking him off balance. He grabbed frantically for the mane. His animal kept running and Mark could feel himself slipping. With all his strength he held on, wrapping one arm around the beast’s neck.
Inch by inch he lost control, until he went over. His hand was still tangled in the mane when his feet hit the ground, where he flopped around like a rag.
The black animal that had cut him off was now practically on top of him. The rider pulled up beside him, crushing him against his mount’s belly before veering off.
Mark’s arm felt as if it would rip loose. He called to the beast to stop but the animal only ran faster, its hooves clipping Mark’s side with each stride.
Using his free hand, Mark groped for the reins. His fingers found them and he yanked, sawing on them until the animal finally stopped, its sides heaving.
The race was still in progress. Mark clawed his way back onto his beast and kicked it back into action. Riders were passing him on both sides. Ahead he could see the sand blossom tree. Tybor was standing under it hurriedly passing out the pagomas.
Mark slid to a halt and waited for Tybor to get over to him. The smith tossed him a piece of yellow fruit. Mark put the small end in his mouth. There was no way he could win the race now but he was determined not to finish last.
He yelled encouragement to his beast and kicked as hard as he could. The gray lunged down the track. It moved even with a group of riders, then slowly pushed past them.
In the distance Mark could see Dagon standing on the rail fence. The gray beast crossed the finish line just ahead of the final group of riders.
Mark spotted Sarbo. He spit out the pagoma and walked his mount over to him. "I guess you beat me. You want the necklace now?"
Sarbo threw his hands up. "I would be glad to take it except for the fact that the fruit dropped from my mouth and I was disqualified. So it is I who have lost the bet."
Mark shook his head. "We’ll call it even, then."
The last rider had crossed the line and Dagon wa announcing the winner. Sarbo looked disgusted. "Ha! Do you see that? The winner is Narqua. I beat him back here by a mile. If only I hadn’t opened my mouth when I neared the finish."
The crowd cheered the announcement and congratulated the young man. Dagon clapped him on the back and presented him with a wreath of woven leaves.
Several animals filed by, heading back toward the village. Mark noticed one in particular, a large black.
"Sarbo. Who is the rider of that black?"
"I do not know. He is not from here. The Merkon brought him. Why do you ask?"
"During the race it felt as if someone pushed me off my mount. And when I was down, that rider tried to trample me."
Sarbo cocked his head. "This is your first race, Kakon. In the past I have seen riders become very reckless. One time a contestant was dragged to death. These things happen. You must not take it personally."
"Everything happened so fast, but I guess you have a point. But what could have hit me hard enough to knock me off?"
Sarbo laughed. "The way you ride, I would say it was probably a feather."
"Very funny." Mark put his heels to his mount. "Maybe you would like to make a wager on the next game?"
"Be careful, Kakon. The next time you may not be so lucky."
chapter 33
The next game reminded Mark of a cross between football and King of the Mountain, except that the Tsook used the head of a pig-animal instead of a ball and it was every man for himself. The winner was the one who retrieved the head from a wooden bucket fifty yards from the starting line, ran back to a small circle in the center of the field and kept anyone else from taking it away.
Mark’s back was still sore from his ride so he played only halfheartedly. Again he noticed that Megaan was not in the crowd of spectators.
The first man to get to the head dropped it and it was immediately scooped up by someone else. The players chased the second man until he stumbled and the head rolled out of his hands. Sarbo grabbed it and raced back to the circle. Another man tried to wrestle it away and pieces of pig head went everywhere.
Sarbo managed to hold on to the skull. Two men charged him and knocked him flying. He hit the ground and the rest piled on top.
When Dagon pulled the last man off, Sarbo was curled up, still holding what was left of the mangled head. Dagon declared him the winner.
Later Sarbo found Mark standing by one of the food tables. "It is a very good thing you did not bet against me this time, Kakon. As I predicted, I am the winner."
"If smelling like rotted brains makes you the winner, then you’re right. You won."
Sarbo took a deep breath and grimaced. "I see what you mean. I suppose I must wash. Tell them not to start the next game until I come back."
Mark picked up a piece of bread. He munched on it thoughtfully. It was strange that none of the Merkon’s men had participated in the game. He wondered why.
"There are more games later, Kakon." Barow ran up to him. "Are you going to enter the buffalo ride?"
"Sounds a little risky to me."
"I know you are only joking. You are not afraid of anything."
"Who told you that?" Mark swallowed a bite of bread. "I get afraid just like everybody else."
"Not like everyone else. When I am afraid I find a good place to hide."
"I’ve done that a few times. Speaking of hiding, where is your sister? I haven’t seen her all day."
"She is not feeling well. The last time I saw her she was lying on her mat. And she must hurt bad because I think she was crying. It was probably something she ate last night. "
"Really?" Mark shoved the rest of the bread into his mouth and started up the path.
"Where are you going, Kakon? The next event is about to start."
"Do me a favor and go tell them to wait for Sarbo."
"What about you?"
"I think I’ll sit this one out. Hurry. Sarbo won’t be too happy if they start without him."
Mark made his way to Dagon’s cabin and knocked on the door. Megaan’s grandmother opened it. "Hello, Kakon. Dagon is not here. I think you will find him at the buffalo pens selecting a bull for the games."
"I did not come to see Dagon. I heard Megaan is sick."
"Let him in, Grandmother," Megaan called.
Mark stepped inside. Megaan was sitting at the table shelling beans. He smiled. "You don’t look sick."
Megaan’s look was cross. "What do you want?"
"Me? Nothing, I just came to see how you were. Barow told me you were sick."
"You should not concern yourself." Megaan cracked open one of the hard orange pods. "After all, you will be leaving for the jungle soon. What is it to you if I am sick?"
"So that’s what this is all about. You’re still upset with me. Well, you’re wrong. I’m not going to the jungle. At least not right now. Tomorrow the Merkon is taking me to Trisad to see a shaman friend of his."
Megaan put down her beans. "The Merkon? Why would he do this?"
"It was probably something you said—"
"What are you talking about?"
"The Merkon knows all about my past and my wanting to find the light. You and Leeta are the only ones who know about that."
"Th-Then it must have been her," Megaan sputtered. "I didn’t tell anybody."
"Except me." Megaan’s grandmother sat down at the end of the bench. "I am the one who talked to the Merkon about you. He stayed with us last night and questioned me about you. I did not think it would do any harm to tell him what I knew."
"Grandmother," Megaan scolded.
"Don’t worry about it," Mark reassured her. "Actually, I think you did me a favor. The Merkon is going to help me. He knows a shaman who has seen the light and he is taking me to speak to him."
"I know of no shaman in Trisad," Megaan said. "Perhaps you heard him wrong."
"No. I’m sure it was Trisad." Mark picked up one of the pods. "After I find out where the light is, maybe I will come back and visit before I go to the jungle."
"If you wish." Megaan shrugged.
Mark stepped to the door. "If you’re feeling better, Megaan, I hope you’ll come to my ceremony tonight."
"Perhaps."
"Please?"
She looked up at him now and a smile came to her lips. "Perhaps ..."
chapter 34
Sarbo won the buffalo ride and the ax-throwing contest. Now it was evening and the torches were lit again. The tables had been arranged in a circle around a large fire. More food had been prepared and the villagers had come out in droves to witness the initiation ceremony.
Mark wore his new white buckskins and was seated at the head table between Dagon and the Merkon. When the crowd settled down, Dagon stood and asked Mark to follow him to the middle of the circle.
Dagon held up his hands. "Tsook, behold the young warrior who has proven himself on the field of battle. He has been true to the people by offering his life for them."
A thunderous cheer went up from the tables. Mark scanned the spectators. Megaan wasn’t there.
Dagon went on. "The Tsook are the original people. We are entrusted with Transall. Kakon has shown that he also wishes to be a guardian. If he is accepted, the Tsook pledge to be loyal to him, forsaking all they own to honor him. If he accepts the Tsook, he promises his loyalty to them, forsaking all he owns on their behalf."
It became strangely quiet. Mark waited anxiously. He had not been told what would happen next.
From a scabbard on his belt Dagon pulled a small hunting knife. "Kakon, do you still wish to be known as a warrior of the real people, the Tsook?"
Mark nodded.
Dagon took Mark’s left hand and sliced the skin in the fleshy part of the palm. Mark winced as the warm blood dripped down his fingers.
"Who among you greets Kakon as Tsook and fellow warrior of Transall?"
There was a rumbling around the circle. Sarbo stepped up. "Let me be the first." Dagon made a similar cut on Sarbo’s palm and the large man grabbed Mark’s bloody hand and shook it vigorously. "I vow to protect you as Tsook to the best of my ability, Kakon." Sarbo moved away and Mark was surprised to see a long line of men waiting to do the same.
A lump rose in Mark’s throat. The last man to make the vow was Dagon. The leader cut his own hand. "I am convinced it is no accident that you are here, Kakon. Surely you are destined for many great things. I am as glad for you today as if you were my own son."
Sarbo started the dancing. He moved around the fire to the rhythm of the drums. The others joined him until there was hardly any room to stand. Mark glanced around at the nearly empty tables. He saw Leeta taking Barow home but Megaan was still nowhere in sight. Well—so she didn’t come, he thought. Well. He joined in with the dancers and tried to forget about her.
The dancing lasted for hours, until finally Dagon got everyone’s attention and called for the last part of the ceremony.
"Kakon, if you will be seated, the people of the village will further show their acceptance and respect to you by presenting you with gifts." Dagon reached under his cape. "This crossbow is for you."
"But this is the one you just finished," Mark protested. "You’ve worked hard on it."
"And it is my gift to you. Kill many of our enemies with it. "
Tybor stepped forward. "This is my gift, Kakon. See, I have finished it." He held out the metal breastplate and helmet. "Do you like it?"
Mark put the helmet on. "It fits, Tybor. You are a genius."
The Merkon sat up and fingered the breastplate. "This is good workmanship, blacksmith. How did you come to know how to make this?"
Tybor looked at Mark. "Kakon gave me instructions. He is very wise."
"I see that he is."
"Get out of the way, Tybor. You are not the only one with a gift." Sarbo pushed him aside. "Here is mine." He handed Mark his new sword.
Mark took it carefully. "I don’t know what to say. This is a very special gift, Sarbo."
Sarbo winked at him. "The way you fight, I thought it only right to give you every advantage."
The Merkon clapped his hands. "I have a gift for you also Kakon." One of his men led the Merkon’s muscular silver-colored beast into the circle. "This animal was chosen from among the best stock in all Transall. It is yours."
Mark walked around the table and took the reins. "It is a wonderful gift. I thank you, Merkon." The animal snorted and danced sideways. Mark stroked its neck. "We will be good friends, you and I."
The rest of the villagers brought gifts and laid them at his feet. There was everything from food to blankets, and Mark thanked each individual.
Barow trotted up to him, out of breath. "I have a gift for you, Kakon. I did not make it but I think you will like it."
"Since it is from you, I am sure I will."
Barow handed him a folded rabbit skin tied with a vine. "Look inside, Kakon."
Mark had started to open it when Leeta walked up. "There you are, Barow. Your grandmother is very angry at you. Why did you sneak out of the house? You were supposed to be asleep hours ago."
Barow hung his head. "I just wanted to give Kakon a present like everyone else."
"Can’t he stay just another minute?" Mark asked.
Leeta shook her head. "He and I will be in much trouble if I don’t get him home right away."
Mark leaned down. "Tell you what. I’ll wait until tomorrow, when you can watch me open it, okay?"
"All right," Barow said, pouting. He let Leeta lead him up the road. He yelled over his shoulder, "Do not forget, Kakon."
"I won’t." Mark waved to him.
Sarbo staggered over. "The dancing has started again. Come, Kakon. Let us see if you can at least dance."
"I think you have had too much wild berry juice, Sarbo. You’d better leave the dancing to the younger men."
"Younger men," Sarbo growled. "I will have you know..." He fell backward into one of the tables and sat down on a bench. "I will have you know ... that for once, perhaps you are right."
chapter 35
Mark was awake early, packing his things for the trip. He made a bedroll out of the blankets he had received and put some of the bread and dried food in a leather pouch.
His gifts were laid out on the table. He filled the water skin and admired the rest. One man had given him a basket of seed for planting his new field. It would be so easy to stay and let things go on the way they were.
He tried on the helmet and breastplate, put the sword into his belt and picked up the crossbow. He felt like a king. Everything he would ever need he now owned.
He carried his supplies outside and tied them on his new animal. The village was wide awake. Thin wisps of smoke rose from some of the houses and he could smell food cooking.
Sarbo’s stocky brown beast trotted up. "I just got the news, Kakon. Dagon tells me you are already going on a quest."
"You could call it that. The Merkon is taking me to Trisad. There is an old shaman there I need to talk to."
Sarbo rubbed his chin. "Trisad? I did not know that broken-down place still existed. I have not been in that direction for many years. Perhaps I will ride along with you."
Mark looked at him suspiciously. "Why would you do that? Did Dagon order you to go?"
Sarbo pounded his chest with his large fist. "I am Tsook. I go where I please. Besides, an infant like yourself would not last long in the desert without a real warrior to protect him."
Mark sighed. "To tell you the truth, Sarbo, I’d be glad of the company. But not because I need protecting, only because the Merkon and his men see
m so strange."
"Then it is settled. I will be back when I have collected my supplies." Sarbo whipped his beast and trotted down the road, passing the Merkon and six of his men.
Mark waited for them to ride up. "I’m almost ready, Merkon. Where are the rest of your men?"
The Merkon gave his reins to one of the riders and stepped down. "Since we are leaving by a different route, I have sent them on ahead to scout the area for enemies. We will meet up with them later."
He walked around Mark, inspecting his armor. "You could pass for one of my escorts. Perhaps, if you do not find what you are looking for in Trisad, you will consider joining me permanently?"
Mark avoided the question. "A friend is coming with us. I hope that is all right."
The Merkon stiffened. "It is unnecessary. My men will see to your every need. They will accompany you anywhere you wish to go. No harm will befall you."
"I appreciate that. But if it’s not too much trouble, my friend wants to ride along with us. He has not been to Trisad in a long time."
"Mark." Leeta waved to him. "Barow is coming to watch you open his gift."
Mark had almost forgotten about the small rabbit skin. It was inside on the table.
Barow trotted up to him. "Megaan has a gift for you too."
Mark glanced up. Megaan was walking toward them, carrying something under her arm. When she got there she held it out. "I had some extra time so I made these."
Mark held up a pair of knee-length moccasins. "Thank you, Megaan. I haven’t had shoes for a long time." He tried one on. "It fits. How did you know what size to make them?"
"She measured your footprint in the dirt," Barow answered.
Mark pulled the second moccasin on. It felt soft but odd. It had been almost three years since he had lost his hiking boot in the jungle. His feet had grown hard and callused.
He walked a few steps in them. "Now I really do have everything." He turned to Megaan. "Thank you. I missed you last night."
"I had to work on these moccasins."
"They are a wonderful gift. Thank you again." There was a moment when their eyes seemed almost to touch, a long moment. Then it was gone.
