An Alex Hawk Time Travel Adventure (Book 1): A Door Into Time

by Inmon, Shawn

  Renta-ah scrabbled at the arrow, but it was buried too deeply. His eyes glazed over as he dropped to his knees then pitched forward.

  Janta-ak’s first instinct was to reach for his fallen comrade. He knew the mission came first. Always the mission.

  The remaining four warriors raised their hands in surrender.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Children of Stipa-ah

  The march of Manta-ak’s Army felt endless to both Alex and his warriors. The going was slow, and the anticipation of the upcoming battle magnified everything.

  They did not run into a threat of the magnitude of Godat-ta again, but that was because there were no other threats in Kragdon-ah that equaled the mighty bear.

  After many long days of hiking, the army arrived at Stipa-ah. Alex did not worry about hiding his troops as they approached. If there were Denta-ah there, he knew it would be a small force, easily overwhelmed by his superior numbers.

  When he led his army out of the forest that surrounded the lake, he saw an astounding sight. Children stood looking at them at the end of the path. They weren’t playing or waving or jumping up and down. They stood silently staring at the army.

  Alex turned to Tinta-ak and said, “Keep everyone here. I am going to talk with them. Monda-ak, stay here with Sekun-ak.”

  Alex removed his weapons, laid them on the ground and crossed the stone pathway to Stipa-ah.

  “Gunta,” Alex said in one of the few words that translated from Winten-ah to the universal language.

  “Gunta,” a small girl said. Her hair was knotted and tangled; her face dirty. She looked levelly at him.

  Alex kneeled in front of the children, unsure who they were, although the realization was dawning.

  The small girl pointed at Alex and said, “You were here before.”

  “Yes, right after the Denta-ah burned your village. How did you know we weren’t the Denta-ah?”

  The girl fixed him with a withering look. “We are not stupid. We have survived here alone for many moon cycles.” She held out a piece of dried jerky. “Your friend Janta-ak was here. He told us you were coming with a mighty army and not to be afraid.” She stared at Tinta-ak and the other men standing in the forest. “Is that your mighty army?”

  She sounded doubtful.

  “Yes, that is the army.” Alex left mighty out. It felt presumptuous.

  “You and the others buried our dead.”

  Alex touched two fingers to his forehead.

  “Thank you.”

  The other children around her repeated it—“Thank you.”

  “We could not have done it, but we would have tried,” the girl said. The tiny boy behind her touched his fingers to his forehead and flexed his non-existent muscles in confirmation.

  “It was the right thing to do. Did you hide when the Denta-ah came?”

  “Yes,” the girl confirmed. “We’re small, so it was easy for our mothers to hide us.” She pointed to a boy who wasn’t much more than a toddler. “Grima-ak was scared at first, but he is brave now. We’ve taken care of him.”

  Alex shook his head in disbelief, a gesture that didn’t translate in Kragdon-ah.

  “Can you take us with you? Janta-ak said we had to wait here, but we are tired of waiting. This was our home, but it is not anymore. Our mothers and fathers that weren’t killed may be in Denta-ah. We would like to go find them. We can be useful. We’re small and can go places you cannot. And, we are brave. Even Grima-ak.”

  Grima-ak spread his legs wide and puffed his chest out to show his bravery.

  “We can’t. If your parents are in Denta-ah, we will free them and they will return here for you. If they are not there, we will stop and take you back to Winten-ah.”

  “What if you die?”

  “Well, we won’t all die. Even if I die, I will tell everyone else that you are here. Someone will come back to get you. I give you my oath.”

  Even a young girl knew the value of an oath in Kragdon-ah. She didn’t like it, but she accepted it.

  “What are you eating? How are you surviving?”

  “Janta-ak gave us all the food he had. He said they wouldn’t need it anymore.”

  “He was right. One way or the other, they didn’t need food from here. Do you have any left?”

  “Yes. Do you want it?”

  Alex smiled. “No. Show me how much you have.”

  The girl gestured to the biggest boy, who ran into a nearby hut and emerged with a single bag. She took it and held it open to Alex.

  “Stay here.”

  Alex hurried back to Sekun-ak and spoke briefly. Moments later, he came back with two heavy bags filled with pemmican, hard cheese, nuts, berries, and jerky.

  “You’re all too skinny. We need to fatten you up before we can take you home.” He handed the small girl and boy the bags.

  She accepted them solemnly, then tipped her head back and sang a beautiful chant. Her tiny voice soared, and the other children joined in. It brought tears to Alex’s eyes.

  “There. Now maybe you won’t die.”

  Alex realized with a shock that this young girl was about the same age as Amy. He tried to picture Amy in this situation.

  Could she do this? God, I never want to find out.

  Alex stuffed deep a desire to hug the little girl. Instead, he laid a hand on her shoulder. She tried to do the same, but her arm only made it a little past Alex’s elbow.

  Alex spun on his heel and walked back to his army.

  They still had half a day’s march to get to Denta-ah.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Enslaved II

  Janta-ak and his remaining volunteers had been separated. They had not seen what had happened to Renta-ah’s body, but they had heard that when slaves died, they just dragged the bodies far out into the forest and let the animals dispose of them.

  Each of them had the same assignment from Alex and being split up made that easier.

  Janta-ak had been ordered to strip bark off the long trees that the other slaves brought back from deep in the forest. It was monotonous work, and the biggest danger he faced was scraping the skin off his knuckles as he worked.

  The biggest danger, that is, unless he was caught fomenting a revolution.

  The first day, Janta-ak only watched his surroundings. He watched the guards on the fortification, how and when they changed shifts. He watched people pass through his area and divided people up into three classes—Denta-ah, slaves, and trustees.

  It was important that he knew who chafed under the Denta-ah and who had given themselves over and would gladly turn a man in just to curry favor.

  Janta-ak was part of a twelve-man operation that stripped three logs at a time. He worked with an older man who never spoke to anyone, and a younger man who showed every sign of being angry.

  Janta-ak thought that anger was a good response to being enslaved, but also that it made him a less-than-ideal candidate to confide in initially. He preferred someone who could keep their thoughts to themselves.

  They were not allowed to speak as they worked, but at night, they were cycled through a mess area where they were given enough calories to theoretically sustain them for another day. Then they were shuffled off to sleep a few hours before being awakened at dawn to do it all again.

  On his second night of captivity, Janta-ak stuck close to the older man and bedded down beside him. There was a guard posted at one end of the lean-to they slept in, but it was a trustee who enjoyed having such a soft job and didn’t pay much attention to anyone.

  Janta-ak rolled on his side, then whispered, “Where are you from?”

  The man didn’t move, and his reply was almost inaudible. “Stipa-ah.”

  Ah. Good, Janta-ak thought.

  Janta-ak glanced at the guard, whose eyes were heavy. His head nodded.

  “There is an army coming. Kunta for Denta-ah.”

  The old man did not move or speak, but his eyes were wide open.

  “Denta-ah has the
stama weapons. They have more people. We need to watch for an opportunity to help when the attack comes.”

  The old man said one word: “When?”

  “They are coming now. Within the next few days. They march from Winten-ah.”

  The man at Janta-ak’s back coughed and the guard’s head jerked up. Both Janta-ak and the old man closed their eyes.

  Long minutes later, the old man spoke again. “There are not that many Denta-ah. Many are people like me. I know who to trust. I will spread the word.”

  Janta-ak turned away and closed his eyes. He hoped the others were as successful.

  The next morning, Janta-ak was herded out of the sleeping lean-to. Instead of being taken to the area where they would shave the logs, they were taken to an open area where four posts were driven in the ground.

  Janta-ak looked around, trying to grab whatever intelligence he could by counting the number of other slaves gathered together. He was trying to not be obvious about his counting, so he wasn’t as aware as he normally was. A Denta-ah guard put a forearm into his back, pushed hard, and said, “Move!”

  Janta-ak stumbled to one knee. When he stood, he found himself face to face with Prata-eh. Her arms were tied behind her back. She met his eyes for only the briefest of moments, then looked away as though she did not know him.

  The guard led her roughly to one of the four poles, then untied and retied her to the pole so she was facing outward, completely vulnerable.

  Doug-ak strolled to the front of the gathered slaves. He wore a white broad-brimmed hat, a white cotton shirt, and long pants. To Janta-ak’s eyes, he looked ridiculous, barely worth his contempt. Still, he remembered that Manta-ak had told him this man was dangerous.

  “We have spies in our midst,” he said in the universal language. “Where are the others who were captured with this woman?”

  No one moved. Doug-ak walked to Prata-ah and held a long steel blade at her throat. She towered over him, but looked straight ahead, over the top of his head. She was already seeing eternity stretch out before her.

  Doug-ak removed the knife with a smile, as though he never intended to do anything so barbaric as slit her throat. He turned to the man Janta-ak recognized as the one who had retrieved him from the field.

  “Where are the others?” Doug-ak said quietly.

  The man looked around with a hint of desperation. Finally, his eyes fell on Gorka-ah. He pointed at him triumphantly. Doug-ak nodded, and two warriors fell on Gorka-ah and put him on the pole beside Prata-eh.

  “There were two more, correct?”

  The man nodded and again scanned the crowd.

  “Well?” Doug-ak asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.

  The man walked into the crowd, searching, searching. Finally, he spotted Werta-ah. He hurried to him with two other guards and pointed at him and the man beside him.

  “Here they are, Doug-ak!”

  “Excellent. Bring them up.”

  Janta-ak took a small step. He could not let an innocent man be taken in his place. Suddenly, there was a hand grasped tightly around his wrist. It was the old man he had spoken to the night before. With surprising strength, he tugged Janta-ak back in line.

  Janta-ak searched the old man’s face, but he remained expressionless.

  He is right, of course, Janta-ak thought. We are all likely to die anyway, but I can still help us before I do. I am sorry.

  Werta-ah and the bewildered man who had been unlucky enough to stand beside him were hauled up and tied to the poles.

  “This was a pitiful attempt. I have been expecting exactly this.” He nodded at a man at the back and two dozen Denta-ah warriors marched to the front. Six of them lined up in front of each of the poles. They each carried crossbows.

  “Now,” Doug-ak said laconically.

  The sound of crossbow bolts sizzled across the open space as each of the twenty-four arrows slammed home. The three members of Manta-ak’s Army and the sacrificial man grunted at the impact, but otherwise died without a sound.

  “Back to work!” Doug-ak barked.

  Janta-ak went back to work.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Manta-ak’s Army

  The footpath that led from Stipa-ah to Denta-ah quickly widened. Trees on both sides had been cut down, leaving only stumps. Underbrush had been trampled. Progress was happening in Kragdon-ah.

  Alex and Sekun-ak took the lead. They had both been over this trail before and knew where possible pinch points were. Their pace hadn’t been fast from Winten-ah to Stipa-ah, but it slowed to a crawl from there.

  Halfway to Denta-ah, the front of Manta-ak’s Army came around a bend. They walked straight into a work crew from Denta-ah. Two dozen men were hacking at various trees with axes, while five armed guards watched them.

  The entire scene was so surreal that both sides stared at each other for two seconds, waiting for things to make sense.

  Alex called “Shields up,” just before the guards raised their crossbows and fired on them.

  Alex had the presence of mind to also say, “Monda-ak. Behind!” The giant dog had no shield and if a stray arrow pierced his lungs or other vital organ, Alex couldn’t bear it.

  Monda-ak followed the command. He might look at Alex balefully about an order, but he followed it first then complained second.

  The bolts slammed home into the composite shields. The bolts stuck, but did not penetrate, the first live-action test of the shields.

  Alex felt the impact of two bolts into his own shield, waited one beat, then snuck a peek around the side. The five guards were busy reloading the crossbows. The men who were working stood with axes and ropes in their hands, unsure what was happening.

  Alex locked shields with Sekun-ak and said, “Shield wall.” Sekun-ak locked with the man beside him and soon they had a wall as wide as ten shields.

  The guards had the advantage of an uphill position, but they only had an offensive weapon, designed to keep the workers in line. While the front shield wall absorbed the blows of the crossbows, Alex’s longbow group notched and fired from outside of crossbow range.

  Their accuracy was not ideal, but they fired enough long arrows up the hill to hit three of the guards on the first pass. Two fell, mortally wounded, and a third tried to remove an arrow from his thigh. All dropped their weapons.

  The remaining two guards looked at their dead or dying friends and the force of warriors staring at them and shouted, Kampa! — we surrender!

  “Throw down your weapons!” Alex yelled.

  The two standing guards did so with alacrity.

  “Make your wounded comfortable,” Alex instructed them.

  The unwounded guards walked to the men with arrows through their chests. They said a few words over them in a language Alex did not recognize, then raised their axes and smashed them down on their skulls.

  The third wounded man, still struggling with the arrow in his leg, held out his hands and scooted away.

  Alex looked at Sekun-ak and said, “This is a tough world.”

  “They only did what you told them. What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. A drink of water, maybe? Asking them if they had any last words to take to their love ones?”

  Sekun-ak furrowed his brow. “You are my brother, Manta-ak, but sometimes I do not understand how you think.”

  Alex saluted him in acknowledgement.

  “What do we do with them?” Alex asked Sekun-ak, pointing at the three guards.

  “Kill them.”

  “What? No. They surrendered.”

  “Yes, they should not have surrendered. Stama has made them weak. Winten-ah would have fought until the last man fell. They are cowards.”

  “We can’t just kill them.” Alex walked to a man holding an ax in one hand. “Where are you from?”

  “Farga-ah.”

  “How did you come here?”

  “Denta-ah attacked our village. I was wounded in the battle,” he pointed to a nasty scar on his left leg, “bu
t they let others in my tribe heal me so I could work.”

  “Can you tie these men up and guard them?”

  “Can I kill them?”

  Alex sighed. He was a little out of his element.

  “No.”

  “Yes, I can guard them. I would rather kill them. They have been cruel to us. That one,” he said, pointing to the wounded but living man, “came to my village and killed my mother and father. I would like to kill him now.”

  Alex looked at Sekun-ak, who only stared back as if to say, See?

  “Just guard them for now. I don’t want them following along behind us, or worse, getting there ahead of us and alerting everyone.” Alex looked at the guards, who were hanging on every word. “If they try to escape, kill them. Otherwise, just guard them. Can you do that?”

  The man was silent. Contemplating. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Sekun-ak reached into his bag for his flint and handed it to the man beside him. “Build a fire big enough to burn the stama.”

  “We could use those when we attack,” Alex said. “We’ve got new soldiers here that aren’t going to be well trained, but that’s the beauty of a crossbow. You don’t have to be trained.”

  “We cannot use that. It is stama. If we use that to stop them, we are the same as them.”

  Alex pulled another of the workers to him. “Grab their other weapons and distribute them among your men. Travel at the back of our line and stay far enough back that you won’t get hurt in the first wave. We have shields. You do not. When the hand-to-hand combat starts, you can come in and have your kenda.” In the universal language, kenda meant a combination of joy, revenge, and satisfaction.

  Before he let him go, Alex asked the man, “Do you know if there were other work crews out today?”

  “Yes. There are many crews out every day. Some are cutting and gathering logs, some are breaking soil, some are hunting. It is hard to feed such a large tribe.”

  “Even if they don’t feed the workers very much, that’s right, I remember. How about other crews who are doing what you are doing?”