The Transall Saga

by Gary Paulsen

  A few miles later the Samatin dropped into a sandy canyon that got deeper and deeper. They followed it for almost an hour before they stopped in front of what appeared to be a solid wall of red rock and sand.

  One by one they rode to the far side and disappeared around the edge. The man leading Mark’s beast got off his animal and clicked a command. The little animal followed the others while he carefully led Mark and the bigger animal around the edge of the narrow opening.

  Mark was amazed. The shimmering sand gave the illusion that there was no way through the wall. But once they rounded the opening there was a long, dark tunnel just wide enough for a beast to pass. He had to duck to avoid being scraped off by low-hanging rocks.

  The darkness didn’t slow the man leading Mark’s mount. He seemed to know the way very well.

  Just when Mark thought the tunnel would never end, a light appeared and the little man led him out into a valley.

  Mark’s eyes widened. The ground was black and the vegetation green. Green, the way he remembered it was supposed to be.

  As they walked, a powdery dirt swirled up around the man’s ankles. Mark looked down and saw that they were walking through old volcanic ash. The Samatin had founded their hidden paradise on the remains of an inactive volcano. The rim of the blackened cone loomed in front of them.

  Women and children came out of their mud huts to stare at the prisoners. Dog creatures with long thin tails that dragged on the ground barked and nipped at the heels of the mounts.

  The leader pointed at Sarbo and shouted. Two of the Samatin roughly pulled him, unconscious, off his beast and carried him into one of the huts. Then the leader gave another order and pointed at Mark.

  A heavy blow hit Mark in the ribs and he fell, landing on his shoulder in the dirt.

  The Samatin roared with laughter.

  Mark struggled to his knees, his hands still tied. Someone kicked him solidly in the back and he fell on his face. He scrambled to his feet and warily watched the crowd to see who his next attacker would be.

  It was the little man who had led his beast. He jumped at Mark, intending to jab him with his spear. Mark side-stepped, whirled and landed a kick to the short man’s stomach.

  The crowd stopped laughing. One of their own had been bested by a prisoner. They pressed in closer to see what would happen next.

  The little man turned, his narrow black eyes flashing. He braced himself, raised the spear and charged again.

  Mark was ready. He dropped to the ground and scissored his legs to trip the man. The small fellow was propelled forward into the crowd. The spear flew out of his hand and landed in the dirt near the leader.

  The leader was not amused. He clapped his hands sharply and his men rushed to grab Mark. They took him to a small cage made of tree limbs and pushed him inside. There was a rope attached to the top; they threw it around a high tree branch and raised the cage off the ground.

  The prison was not designed for someone as tall as Mark. When he sat flat on the floor, his head touched the top. The cage was so small there was hardly room for him to move. He studied the way it was built. The sturdy sticks were held in place by leather strips like the one that was cutting into his wrists.

  He was carrying his old pocketknife in a pouch around his waist, but it was impossible to get to it.

  The Samatin people had crowded around below the cage and were throwing rocks and spitting and jeering at him. Whatever he did, if anything, would have to wait until nightfall.

  chapter 43

  The night was warm and bright. The moonlight shone through the haze better here than anywhere else Mark had been in Transall.

  The Samatin had finally given up taunting him and gone into their huts to sleep. Wedged in his prison, Mark sat thinking, trying to take his mind off how uncomfortable he was.

  Back in his world the sulfur from volcanoes had been used to make many things, particularly explosive powder. He racked his brain, trying to remember the formula.

  His science teacher had talked about it. Mark had stored the information because he thought he and his friends might find it useful one day for homemade fireworks.

  The Chinese or somebody had figured out that if you added the sulfur from pure deposits of brimstone to charcoal and potassium nitrate you could produce a potentially lethal explosion.

  Mark smiled grimly. It was funny what you could remember in these bizarre situations. He continued to think. The charcoal was easy. It was right there in the residue of old fires the Samatin had let burn down. He suspected the long tunnel they came through had all the potassium nitrate he would need. But what was the formula?

  There was a disturbance on the other side of the camp. In the moonlight he could see a Samatin guard on a mount, dragging someone behind him.

  It was Yonk. The man picked up the boy and stuffed him into another cage. Then he raised it off the ground near Mark’s.

  "I tried to save you, master. Honestly, I did. I would have done it too, if it had not been for the tunnel guard. He is a coward and a thief. He came at me from behind and took my donkey and my pack. When I get out of here I will rip him apart. I will—"

  "Yonk?"

  "Yes, master?"

  "Thank you for coming after us. It’s good to see you. But if you don’t mind, I’m trying to think right now."

  "Are you about to come up with a grand plan to escape from these barbaric people along with Master Sarbo? Where is Master Sarbo? If you do have a plan I can be of great help to you. In fact, I once — "

  "Yonk?"

  "Yes, master?"

  "Shut up."

  "Yes, master."

  Mark pulled his knees up under his chin. He inched onto his back and pushed upward with his feet. The round wooden bars didn’t budge.

  Next he tried bracing his back against one side of the cage and his feet against the other. He pushed again with all his might but nothing happened.

  "This is hopeless," he muttered. He looked up at the sky. The faint outline of a star shone through the haze. He hadn’t seen a star since the night he had discovered the blue light more than three years ago, and for the first time in months he felt a twinge of homesickness.

  "Yonk?"

  "You asked me not to talk, master."

  "Forget about that. Are your hands tied in the front or back?"

  "They are tied in the front, master. That is how that Samatin coward was able to drag me along behind his mount. And, you know, I think he enjoyed it too. I heard him laughing."

  "Listen to me. I’m going to tell you how the latch on your cage works. Put your hands through the bars and feel for a round wooden wheel."

  "I have it, master."

  "Turn the wheel to your left."

  "I am trying. It will not turn. Something is holding it."

  "Feel for a wooden peg in the face of the wheel. Pull it straight out."

  "It still will not move, master."

  "Rock the wheel back and forth. And pull harder, Yonk. Sarbo and I are counting on you."

  Mark heard the cage gate snap open. "Good work, Yonk. Now jump down and lower my cage."

  "Master, I am not very good with heights. What if break my leg or worse, what if I fall on my—"

  "Jump!"

  "Yes, master."

  Mark heard him hit the ground with a thud. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes. Although I am not sure that you really care how I am, considering that I told you I did not like heights and — "

  "Find the rope that holds my cage. When you do, let it out slowly."

  "I found-it, master," Yonk whispered. "But it is difficult to undo it with my hands tied together."

  Mark’s cage lurched downward. He closed his eyes and prepared for the crash.

  It didn’t come. The cage jerked to a stop. Mark opened his eyes to find himself suspended a few inches above the ground.

  "Good work, Yonk. Now open my cage. Yonk?"

  "I am up here, master."

  Mark looked up. High in the
tree, dangling from the end of the rope, was Yonk. He was holding on with both hands.

  "Get down here, Yonk. I need you."

  "But, master, it is a very long way to fall. Even farther than the last time."

  "Yonk, if you don’t get down here and unlock my cage someone will find us like this. And I hear the Samatin enjoy cooked Tsook. They say the younger the victim the more tender the meat."

  There was another thud. This time it was accompanied by a soft groan.

  "Do not worry, master. I am fine." Yonk’s face appeared in front of Mark’s cage. The boy turned the wheel and pulled out the peg, and the door sprang open.

  "Reach in my pouch, Yonk, and find my small knife. Cut me loose and I will do the same for you."

  Yonk found the knife and sawed at the strap until Mark was able to break it. "See, master. Did I not tell you that you would find me very useful?"

  "You told me. Now quit talking and get your hands over here."

  chapter 44

  "But, master, does it not make more sense to steal back our animals and escape while we still have a chance? You raised our cages back into the tree. They will not discover we are gone for quite some time."

  "Hand me that bowl of dirt, Yonk."

  "That is exactly what I was saying, master. Here you are hiding behind bushes, sifting through dirt and grinding charred sticks to powder when we could be halfway to Listra by now. It was a very risky thing for you to send me back to the tunnel. I was very lucky the guard was away. And why did you have me do it? To escape? No. To collect dirt. I am sure there will be plenty of dirt in Listra, master. I will help you get all you want. Why do we not go?"

  "I will not leave Sarbo. This may be the only way for the Samatin to know I mean business. Hand me that other bowl and spread that rag out beside it."

  Yonk did what he was told, then sighed and sat down beside Mark. "Master, when they come for us will you do me a favor?"

  Mark didn’t answer. He continued working, frantically trying to remember how many parts of each ingredient were necessary.

  "I would like for you to end my life quickly before they get a chance to cook me. I do not think it would be at all pleasant to be boiled."

  "Clean out my pouch, Yonk. You are in charge of keeping track of my things. For now I need to store some of the powder in it. I will keep the rest folded inside this cloth."

  Carefully Mark scooped up what he hoped was close to the recipe for the explosive powder and filled his pouch. Then he stood up. "Come, Yonk. The show’s about to begin."

  It was early morning. The two crept around the rim of the old volcano close to the village. It was quiet. Nothing moved. Mark motioned for Yonk to go for the mounts and then made his way to the hut where the Samatin had taken Sarbo.

  There was no guard. Apparently they thought Sarbo was too badly wounded to be a threat.

  Mark ducked inside. "Sarbo? Are you here?"

  "Of course I am here, infant. What took you so long?"

  Mark smiled. Sarbo was lying perfectly still on the floor. "Can you walk?"

  "I think so. Help me up."

  Leaning on Mark, Sarbo took a wobbly step.

  "We must hurry. It will be full daylight soon and they will be looking for us," Mark said.

  He half carried Sarbo out the door and across the grounds to the edge of the village, where Yonk was waiting with the beasts and his mount.

  Master Sarbo. See, you were wrong about me. I have been of great help to you. Look, I found Master Kakon’s weapons and have even stolen this extra sword and crossbow. First I — "

  "Not now, Yonk." Mark pushed past him. "Help me get him on his mount."

  Sarbo was so weak he nearly fell. "Hold him on, Yonk." Mark took the reins and led the animals back toward the tunnel.

  A guard was pacing back and forth in front of the opening.

  Mark whispered to Yonk, "I’m going to create a diversion. When the guard leaves his post, take Sarbo and the beasts and hurry through the tunnel. I will join you as soon as I can. If I don’t come, go on without me. I entrust Sarbo to your care."

  Before Yonk could ask any questions Mark slipped away into the darkness.

  In minutes a loud explosion ripped the night apart and the guard ran to investigate. Yonk, Sarbo and the beasts disappeared into the tunnel.

  The Samatin village sprang to life. Mark crawled to his feet and brushed at his singed eyebrows. His mixture had been more potent than he’d expected. He had poured only a small amount on the ground and tossed a burning stick into it, hoping the sparks would attract the guard’s attention. At first nothing had happened. Then it had suddenly caught fire. The force of the explosion was so great it had blown him backward.

  Mark ran to the tunnel. He tripped and fell on the slippery rocks as he made his way through the darkness.

  There were shouting and the sound of running feet behind him. The Samatin were in the tunnel too, and they were coming fast.

  Mark could see light ahead. Hurriedly he dumped out the contents of the rag, then struck his fire rocks together and lit the end of a dry stick he was carrying in his belt. He stepped back and tossed the stick, then turned and leaped into a run.

  The explosion was deafening. The walls of the tunnel crumbled. Rock fragments flew everywhere. The blast blew white smoke out of the tunnel and Mark along with it. When he landed he could hear the screams of the men back in the tunnel.

  "Master! We are here!" Yonk led the beasts up to him.

  Sarbo raised his head. "Well done, Kakon. Well done."

  chapter 45

  "Are you sure about this, Sarbo?" Mark looked down at his friend. He was lying behind his mount on a pole stretcher they had hastily put together.

  Sarbo smiled weakly. His face had lost most of its color. "I am sure, Kakon. I am going back to our village to die. The runt will take me. I will have a fine warrior’s burial and they will sing many songs about my bravery."

  "You are too mean and ornery to die, Sarbo. But I do think that the village is the best place for you. They will tend your wound and soon you will be back to your old annoying self. "

  "Annoying? Why, if I was not about to die, I would — "

  "I know." Mark knelt by the stretcher. "You would teach me to respect my betters. Here." He took off his claw necklace and put it around Sarbo’s neck. "I want you to have this. You have been a true friend, Sarbo. No one could ask for better."

  Mark stood and turned to Yonk. "Take good care of him. Follow the directions I have given you. If you get him safely back to the village you will be given your freedom."

  "I will do as you ask, master. You can count on me."

  "I know I can. And Yonk, if you should meet a girl by the name of Megaan in the village ... tell her ..."

  "Yes, master?"

  "Never mind. You’d better get going. And be careful. There could be other tribes out there."

  Mark watched them go until they were only tiny specks on the horizon. He already missed them. His trip to Listra was going to be a lonely one.

  Sarbo had given him directions to the ferry that would take him across the great river. After that it was only a few more miles to the Merkon’s stronghold.

  He would have liked to have the assurance of Sarbo’s sword and his vast fighting experience, but even more than that, Sarbo’s friendship. Even Yonk’s unending chatter would be better than silence.

  Mark shrugged the feeling off and sat up straight on his mount. He had been alone before and had survived.

  The red Death Sand gradually faded into a soft red dust that grew mostly cactus. Mark let his animal pick its way through the thorny plants.

  Sarbo had told him there would be no water here. But if he cut the tops off the larger cactus plants he could find a bitter liquid that would see him through until he reached the river.

  Mark stopped only twice to drink. He didn’t eat because he was in a hurry and didn’t want to take the time to hunt. His mount’s flanks were drawing up from exertion and the
lack of water. The animal’s steps became slower and slower. Finally Mark got off and led the beast until nightfall.

  The moonlight gave the night sky an odd yellow glow. Mark stopped to rest. Soon he would continue, hoping to reach the river by morning.

  He tied the beast and snuggled down in the warm soft dirt. His mind replayed the events of the previous weeks.

  The Merkon had told him of a shaman in Trisad who did not exist. Then they had been attacked on the way to find the imaginary shaman, and the Merkon had been taken captive. Bounty hunters had been offered a reward for Mark’s capture. Why? None of it made any sense.

  He thought back to Pet, the old man in Trisad who said he was a keeper of knowledge. The stories he had told about the blood sick and the terrible destruction made Mark shudder.

  The people had been changed by some catastrophe. They were strange in custom and appearance.

  Well, not all of them. Mark drifted off to sleep thinking about how pretty one of them was, especially when she was upset with him.

  When he was finished in Listra he would go back and see her one last time before he returned to the dark jungle.

  chapter 46

  The big animal lapped up river water for a long time. Mark was worried about letting it have so much. He had read something about overdrinking making animals sick. He ran his hand back and forth in the cool brown water, watching the animal.

  "Well, what have we here?"

  Mark whirled. A stocky young man with an ugly burn on his face stood behind him, holding a wooden oar.

  "Are you not something? Coming here in broad daylight like this. Either you are very brave or you are touched in the head."

  Mark jumped to his feet. "I don’t know who you think I am but — "

  "I have no doubt who you are. You are the young outlaw with the very large price on his head. The word is that you are a bad one indeed. What did you do to get him after you? Normally he does not take such an interest."

  "I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I’m simply looking for the ferry. You wouldn’t happen to know if it’s up- or downstream, would you?"