by Inmon, Shawn
Niten-eh approached him, raised her voice, and let loose what sounded like a string of invectives while shaking her fist at him.
Dan started to translate, but Alex held up his hand. “No need. I get it. She thinks I’m an idiot.”
“Oh, it’s much worse than that. Idiot would be complimentary compared to what she’s calling you. She thinks you have a death wish.”
“Can you tell her I just wanted to see what the trader was bringing in?”
“Tell her yourself. That’s what all these lessons are for.”
Alex turned to Niten-eh and stumbled through an explanation using his limited vocabulary in the language of the Winten-ah.
Dan nodded, pleased, but Niten-eh was not so easily assuaged. She rattled off another long, angry sentence, then turned on her heel and left. She stopped after a few steps and directed another tirade at Dan before stomping off.
“See what you’ve done? You’ve got me in trouble with her, too.”
“Let’s go look at the dogs, then we can rest for a while before we go back up,” Alex said.
Adults had come to the traders and scattered the kids with mild cuffs to the back of the head.
Everyone was speaking in the universal language of Kragdon-ah, so Alex was once again lost. He had no idea if they were already bickering over prices or talking about the weather.
Finally, the man who had arrived with the cart grabbed the cover and flung it back dramatically. Alex knew he was in the presence of a salesman, Kragdon-ah-style.
Everyone took a step or two forward and surround the cart. Curled up under the tarp was a creature that somewhat resembled a dog—if that dog was a mastiff crossed with a bulldog, crossed with a newfoundland that had wandered over into prehistoric territory.
Alex’s mouth fell open as he estimated that the dog must have weighed in at two-hundred and fifty pounds or more.
The massive creature was fast asleep, totally oblivious to the attention being paid to her.
Attached to each of her teats was a suckling pup, small only by comparison to their massive mother. They were a wide variety of colors, but their curved-spine shape was all the same.
“Just don’t reach out to touch one of them,” Dan cautioned. “She looks asleep, but you’d be amazed how fast she comes awake when a hand is near her pups.”
Alex raised his hands to indicate he hadn’t considered it. It was then that he noticed a smaller pup nearly hidden in the long grass the mother laid on. It didn’t have a teat to suckle and instead mewled pitifully.
Without getting his hand too close, Alex pointed to the smallest pup.
Dan shrugged. “Looks like she had too many and that’s the runt. Maybe once they sell one or two, it’ll have a place at the buffet, too.” Dan touched the trader on the arm and asked a question in the universal language.
The man’s answer was short and curt. He obviously had bigger fish to fry and had no interest in this short, wild-haired white man.
Dan leaned into Alex and said, “He says that’s the runt. She’s already abandoned it. Even after the other dogs are sold, she won’t feed it. He’d sell it if anyone would buy it, but he knows no one will. Without enough of its mother’s milk to get started, it won’t make it.”
Alex nodded, but his eyes kept returning to that mewling little face, chewing the air, asking for a chance to survive.
Serious bickering began and the conversation between the trader and Banda-ak, who had taken the lead in negotiating for the Winten-eh, became heated.
Alex watched, fascinated, as the two giant men got into each other’s faces, spittle flying as they angrily exchanged words. Alex was sure they would come to blows at any moment. If that happened, Alex liked Banda-ak’s chances. He was older and only had one eye, but the trader didn’t have the same lean, hard look of a warrior.
Just when their noses were almost touching, they both acted surprised, stepped back, and laughed, then reached out and put a hand on their opponent’s shoulder.
“Holy shit, is that how this always goes?” Alex asked.
“Yep. Starts out friendly, looks like they’re going to go to war, then suddenly, they agree and they’re the best of friends. It’s like a ritual.”
The wife of the trader took one of the dogs away from the teat and it also began to mewl as if it was starving, even though its pink underbelly was distended with milk. She stepped forward and handed it to a warrior Alex didn’t recognize, who held it tight to his chest. Almost instantly, the crying stopped, and the dog was asleep.
Banta-ak turned and received two of the karak-ta eggs and ceremoniously handed them to the trader, who in turn gave them to the woman with him, who slipped them inside a bag.
Alex turned to Dan. “Ask him how much he wants for the runt.”
“You don’t have anything to trade with. If you were a craftsman, you could offer something you’ve made, but you aren’t.”
“How about my guns? My pistol will still work fine. Will he accept that?”
Dan shook his head vehemently. “No way. You promised to destroy them. You don’t want to go back on that oath, believe me.”
Alex looked at the pup in frustration. “Isn’t there anything I can do?”
“No, there isn’t. You’re as poor as a church mouse in this world.”
Dan looked at Alex for a long moment, then stepped to Banda-ak and spoke quietly to him. Banda-ak looked surprised then stared at Alex. He was silent for several seconds, then spoke just as quietly back to Dan.
Dan stepped back to Alex and said, “Banda-ak says he will negotiate for you, pay the price, and give you the runt. But he wants a new oath from you that you will perform a service for him when he asks it, no matter how dangerous it will be. He also warns you it will be for nothing. The animal will die, but you will still owe the oath. It’s a terrible offer, because he’s right. The animal will die, and you will have nothing but a new debt.”
Alex didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it.”
“Think it over.”
“I don’t need to. I’ll pledge the oath right now.”
Dan shrugged and returned to Banda-ak, who raised his voice and spoke to the trader.
The trader looked shocked but covered that expression quickly and entered into a new negotiation. This time, neither side could summon as much energy in the service of such a minor bargain. Within moments, they came to an agreement and Banda-ak had dispatched a runner to get one of the baskets the Winten-ah were justifiably famous for making.
Onlookers stood open-mouthed, unable to believe that Banda-ak had made such a poor deal. Their baskets were their second-most valuable trading commodity. They found it hard to reckon why he had given one away for nothing. A basket was a low price for one of the animals who would serve the tribe for many years, but a far-too-rich price for an animal that would likely not live to see the next sunrise.
The woman trader picked up the runt, who was perhaps half the size of the first dog they had purchased and held it out to Banda-ak. It was obvious that she felt they had by far gotten the best end of this trade, but she did her best to mask that expression.
Banda-ak pointed to Alex. The woman, who towered over Alex, handed the animal to him with a slight smile playing on her lips.
Without a further word, the two traders picked up the cart’s handles and headed toward the forest. The warrior guards of Winten-ah would see them safely through the forestland and then they would be on their own. Neither trader was young, though, indicating that they had many tricks to survive these treacherous journeys.
Dan looked at the squirming, undernourished animal in Alex’s arms and said, “Now what, mama?”
Alex had no idea what was next. He’d grown up in a small town in central Oregon, but it hadn’t been on a farm. He hadn’t even been a member of the Future Farmers of America, which might have taught him to care for a cow or a sheep. He’d had a dog—a white German shepherd—from the time he was eight until she had died ten years later. That didn’t
do him much good for saving a near-dead distant cousin of that dog, who was genetically different in almost every way.
The squeaking, mewling animal had quieted against him. Alex put a hand against its chest to make sure it was still alive. He was rewarded with a steady thump-thump-thump against his fingers.
“I’ve just got a feeling about this guy. Is there anyone in the tribe who can give me some advice?”
Just a few minutes before, Alex had been leaning against a wall, trying to catch his breath and so exhausted he didn’t want to move. Now, looking down on a face so homely only a mother could love it, he felt filled with energy.
Dan sighed, laughed a little and shook his head. “You are one of those people who jumps, hoping a net will appear before you hit the ground, aren’t you?”
“Always have been,” Alex said, rubbing behind the ears of the strange creature he held against him. The dog-hybrid snuggled deeper into his arms.
“Okay,” Dan said. “Follow me. Luckily, we shouldn’t have to climb to find him. He lives and works here on the ground.”
“Who are we looking for?”
“Karga-ak. He’s trained two of these beasts since I’ve been here. He also takes care of the work animals we have here.” Dan glanced at Alex and said, “He’s not a miracle worker, though. I should probably take you to Benka-eh, the priestess. I think this little guy needs last rites more than anything else.”
Alex was oblivious to Dan’s criticism. In his heart, he felt like he’d done the right thing, even if it might cost him terribly in the long run.
On the cliff’s edge opposite the waterfall, there was a small area fenced off with sharply pointed logs that pointed skyward. They were tall enough that anything short of Godat-ta, the legendary bear that Alex had yet to see, would have an impossible time getting over them.
Inside the fence, a grassy area was divided up by wooden fencing—this time not so menacing. The animals inside each pen were not menacing, either, although they were large. Some of the creatures resembled cows, though they dwarfed the bovines Alex had driven by every day in Oregon.
Dan pointed to several tall, black creatures with ears so long, they looked like a caricature. “That is an alecs-ah,” he said, barely stifling a laugh. “You and I would call them an ass.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Alex answered.
A tall, slightly bent man came around the corner carrying a rudimentary pitchfork with hay. He effortlessly flicked it over the fence to one of the bovines, who happily chewed it. His eye caught the dog that Alex was holding, and he approached and plucked him away.
He pulled back the dog’s eyelids, opened his mouth and looked down his throat and palpitated its stomach. He handed it back to Alex and said, “Korin denta min.”
“He says it’s gonna die,” Dan said helpfully.
“Yeah, I get that. That’s what everyone says. It’s still breathing right now, though, so what can I do until it dies?”
Dan and Karga-ak engaged in a long back and forth. Finally, Karga-ak turned and went into a lean-to against the cliff. He returned a moment later with two clay pots—one half again as big as the other—and a piece of woven fabric. He handed these to Dan and gave him a set of long, detailed instructions.
Dan thanked him and led Alex back out to the first level of the inset caves.
“I know you’re focused on this right now, but I also know you’re supposed to be doing nothing but resting. We’ll stop here and you can try your hand at being nursemaid to this little monster.”
It wasn’t a little monster, of course. At least, not yet. It was just a pup hanging on to the knife’s edge between life and death.
Alex found a chair in a quiet corner of the room and settled himself in. He set the two clay pots and cloth on the ground, crossed his leg to make a perfect cradle and laid the little animal into that space.
Alex’s heart sank. He laid his hand on the pup’s chest. There was no movement. No heartbeat. On the walk up, the little thing had given up and finally stopped breathing. It was possible that being taken away from the warmth of the mother who had otherwise rejected it had been the final straw, and now it was gone.
Alex let his head fall on his chest and fought back tears. It was ridiculous, he knew. He didn’t even know this creature had existed an hour before. Now he was grieving it as though he had lost an old friend.
He felt a hand touch his arm. It was Niten-ah, kneeling beside him. She looked at his anguished face and held out her hands for the dog.
Alex lifted it up to her, then turned his face away, unable to watch.
Niten-ah examined the dog, then began rhythmically pushing on its chest. She counted her palpitations of the chest and every thirty times, she stopped and blew down its throat, forcing oxygen into its lungs.
After five long minutes, Alex looked at the two of them, the regal woman with her long hair braided down her back and the pitiful animal that had never had a chance.
Niten-ah did not give up, but continued to patiently compress the chest, breathe air in, then start over, chanting the same words over and over.
That was when the miracle of life and a will to live took over. The dog’s pink tongue, which had been motionless, poked out, then lolled to the right. The chest began to rise and fall rhythmically.
Niten-ah smiled and pointed at the milk in the bigger pitcher and the towel beside it. Alex picked it up and attempted to hand it to her, but she pointed at him. Alex dipped the cloth in the milk and took the dog back. He dipped the end of the cloth into its mouth and nearly cried when he sucked on it anxiously.
Instead, he laughed and dipped the cloth again. Again, the hungry mouth sucked on it until there was no milk left.
Niten-ah laid a hand on Alex’s shoulder and said, “Stay here. Rest.”
Alex was shocked to realize that she had spoken in her own language and he had understood. He said, “Yes. I will,” also in her own tongue.
Happiness swelled inside him and he found himself rocking back and forth in the chair, dipping the cloth and letting him drink as much as he was able.
The pup soon closed his gray eyes, but now his chest rose and fell more strongly. It seemed he had let go of the knife’s edge and had fallen on the side of life. The pup cuddled into Alex and slept, but Alex did not. He laid his hand on its chest and felt the comforting in and out movement all through the night, until the first light of dawn.
A few hours later, Dan showed up with a plate of food for Alex and more milk for the pup.
“What are you gonna call the little bugger now that a miracle has happened?”
Alex hadn’t given that idea any thought.
He looked down at the sleeping lump of puppy, scratched gently under its chin, then said, “What’s the Winten-ah word for ‘survivor.’”
Dan smiled, nodded, and said, “It’s very close to your own tribal name, Manta. The word for survivor is monda.”
“That’s it, then. His name is Monda-ak.”
Chapter Twelve
A Quest
In the following weeks, both Alex and Monda-ak recovered. Alex put most of the weight back on that he had lost, though he stayed a little leaner than he had before. Monda-ak ate like there was a hole in him that would never be filled.
Alex went to Karga-ak, the animal trainer and asked him for food, but began to feel guilty at how much the ravenous dog ate.
At the end of another of his endless language lessons—they had begun to add in words from the universal language as well—Alex said, “I can’t rely on Karga-ak for food forever. What can I do?”
“I should have mentioned that before you gave a life oath to get him. These dogs eat like they’ll never see another meal. But look at him! I’d swear he’s doubled in size in only a few weeks.”
“He sleeps on top of me every night, I think he’s done more than that. I have dreams I am being smothered by a pack of animals and when I wake up, it’s just him laying across my chest.”
“It’s only g
oing to get worse. If he sleeps on your chest six months from now, he will smother you. I don’t think Karga-ak resents the food too much yet, though. He sent you this.” Dan handed over a piece of leather that had been knotted and twisted. “I think he soaked it in bone broth. Said it’ll be good for the runt’s teeth.”
Monda-ak stirred himself from a nap in the corner and toddled over to Alex. He stood on his hind legs and sniffed earnestly at the leather. Alex dangled it just a few inches above his nose and the puppy, who most resembled a beer barrel with legs, tried to jump up and bite it. That resulted in him landing flat on his back with an ‘ooof.’
“Not the most graceful thing, is he?” Dan observed.
“Not yet. Give him time. He’ll be... he’ll be... hell I don’t even know what these guys are supposed to do. What are they supposed to do?”
“They are warriors in battle and in the hunt. They’re not all that fast, but they can still outrun a man, and they have incredible stamina. Plus, their loyalty is insane. They’ll never leave your side unless you give them the command. And, if you fall in battle, he will stand over your body and protect it until he’s killed himself.”
Alex kneeled and looked at the homely face of Monda-ak. One ear stood straight up and the other flopped comically forward. “Would you do that for me?”
Monda-ak saw his chance to grab the leather and jumped forward, putting all his weight into bowling over Alex. He grabbed the strip between his teeth and jumped away. He threw his head left and right as though he was snapping the neck of the leather twist, then dropped it in front of him and growled ferociously. He laid down beside it and started chewing it vigorously.
Dan and Alex both watched him, laughing.
“I am going to need to take care of his upkeep very soon. Can I go on one of the hunting trips and help bring the meat in?”
“Maybe, but it takes more than just asking. Being one of the hunters is a position of honor in the tribe. Most Winten-ah train for it from the time they are children.”