by Inmon, Shawn
Right behind him, a young girl appeared with another tray filled with large cups filled with thick, frothy milk.
Another young girl followed her, carrying a huge bowl of milk. She set it on the floor and Monda-ak looked at Alex for permission. Alex clicked his tongue and Monda-ak dove in, slurping the creamy milk as fast as he could.
Alex looked in his own bowl. There was a concoction of cooked oats with a slab of butter melting over it and more of the rich milk.
Alex took a deep drink of the milk, a large spoonful of the hot oats, and smiled contentedly.
“This is the best thing I have eaten in a very long time.”
The barge master leaned forward. “I spoke to Nanka-ak. He has given me permission to take you across the lake in our biggest boat.”
Alex let out a small whoop that briefly attracted the attention away from Tokin-ak.
“But,” the barge master said,” there is one thing.”
The smile disappeared from Alex’s face.
Always. There is always one damned thing.
Chapter Nineteen
Dandra-ta
“What? What is the one damned thing?” Alex snapped. He caught himself. It wasn’t the fault of these people that they wanted to trade service for service. They didn’t have anything to do with him being attacked on the trail, or having to fight a giant warrior just to survive. They had something he needed, he may have something they wanted. It is the way of all worlds.
“I’m sorry,” Alex said. “What is that you want?”
“I cannot say. But, Nanka-ak wants to meet with you.”
Alex tipped his bowl up, letting the last of his breakfast slide down his throat.
Not great for digestion, but I want to know what we’re up against this time.
The barge master led Alex, Werda-ak, Senta-eh, and Monda-ak to the table where Tokin-ak sat. An older man stood and laid his hand on the shoulders of the three humans and smiled at Monda-ak.
“I am Nanka-ak. I am the leader of Matori-ah.”
“We would like to arrange for passage across the lake.”
“So I understand. Please, sit.” He gestured at three seats across from him, which were filled, but those who sat there quickly scattered.
“Tokin-ak tells me that you are a hunter and a warrior. That you have fought many battles and lived to tell of them.”
Alex deflected the compliment. It felt more like an early part of a negotiation than anything else. “I’m still here,” Alex agreed. “Is there something you want from me in exchange for passage?”
“We are a peaceful people,” Nanka-ak said. “Our village offers us such a wonderful protection that we have not had the need for warriors. We also do not hunt. We do not eat the flesh of animals. We live off what our land gives us. This has allowed us to live happy and contented lives for many generations.”
“Until...?” Alex asked, knowing something terrible was coming.
“Until,” Nanka-ak agreed with a wry smile, “the dandra-ta arrived. We do not know how they came to our island home. They do not fly. As far as we know, they do not swim, but just before the summer solstice, they appeared.”
Dandra-ta was a word Alex was unfamiliar with. He turned to Senta-eh and Werda-ak. “Dandra-ta?” He could tell by the look on their faces that neither of them were familiar, either.
Tokin-ak spoke up. “A most fearsome creature. As tall as a man, but with a great, curved spine with spikes that grow all the way down to their long tail. Their skin is scaly, and their bite is poisonous.”
“They have dragged our milking beasts out of the field right in sight of our shepherd, who was helpless to do anything about it. They have killed a number of our house-animals who wandered outside our village.” He paused, lowered his eyes, and said, “They claimed one of our children. When that happened, we sent a hunting delegation after them. We don’t believe in killing, but we couldn’t abide the loss of our children.”
“And, what happened?” Alex asked.
“They never returned. We lost them as well.”
“How many men?”
“Twenty-two brave men.”
“And none of them returned?”
“That is correct.”
“So, you want me and my three friends”—Alex always included Monda-ak in these situations, because he was a match for any other warrior—“to accomplish what twenty-two men could not.”
“We are not warriors or hunters. We are farmers. They were brave to face the terror, but they were not equipped. I fear that if we cannot rid ourselves of these beasts, they will one day push us off and this will become the island of the dandra-ta.”
“We’ll be right back,” Alex said, grabbing Werda-ak and Senta-eh by their elbows and pulling them to the far corner of the room. When they were alone, Alex said, “We don’t have to do this. We can go back to where the path split and then take the long route around the lake.”
“Yes, we could,” Senta-eh said. The way she said it showed Alex what she thought of the idea.
“Listen, if we try to kill these things—and can I point out that until a few minutes ago, none of us had even heard of them, let alone have any idea how to fight them—one or more of us could die.”
Werda-ak stood up straight and said, “We are young and strong. You are a great hunter. Even Sekun-ak says so. We have the mightiest dog in the land. And think about this. As miserable as you were last night, how will you feel for the next two weeks while we are backtracking and taking the long way around.”
Senta-eh crossed her arms over her chest. She obviously agreed with the boy.
Monda-ak’s tongue lolled comically, and as far as Alex could see, he didn’t have a thought in his canine brain.
“All right, all right. Let me do the negotiating, though, all right?”
A smile—the smile of an adventurer—lit both their faces.
Alex returned to Nanka-ak and said, “We’ll do it under these terms: If we manage to kill the dandra-ta without dying ourselves, you will give all of us—the four humans, our horses, and my dog—safe passage to the eastern side of the island.”
“Done!” Nanka-ak said, leaping to his feet.
“Hold on. You will also give us whatever weapons you have. Warm winter clothes. Extra blankets. Food, as much as we can pack in our saddlebags.”
“Yes!” Nanka-ak agreed instantly.
Why do I feel like I’m not asking for enough? But, what else is there that I can ask for? Unless they have a helicopter hidden somewhere on the island, that’s all they can do for us.
“And, we’ll need to know everything we can about the dandra-ta. Has anyone seen one of them and survived?”
“Yes. My son was the shepherd when they dragged our milk beast away.”
“Good. I want to talk to him.”
Nanka-ak turned his head to the right. “This is my son, Jabril-ak.”
Alex looked at the boy, who appeared to be about the same age as Werda-ak. The boy stared down at the table, either shy, or ashamed of something. His father dug into his ribs with a sharp elbow and the boy raised his eyes to meet Alex.
“Can you show me where you saw them?”
Instead of answering, the boy stood and walked for the front door.
“I guess that’s our invitation?” Alex said, hurrying to follow.
The boy led the group of them down the well-swept streets and neat houses to the edge of town. As they left the town behind, Alex got a feel for just how big the island was. There were acres and acres of turned ground, with plants of a dozen varieties withering before the onslaught of the oncoming cold.
Away from town and his father, the boy seemed to relax.
“I prefer it out here,” he said, waving a hand at the open fields, barns, and animals grazing on the last of the year’s grass. “That’s why I am a shepherd.” He glanced sideways at Alex. “I’m a disappointment to my father.”
Alex smiled to himself, but didn’t speak. It was a story he was familiar with..<
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“Tell me about the day you saw the dandra-ta.”
Jabril-ak hesitated. “It had been raining for six days in a row. That afternoon, the sun had come out and dried the grass. I sat down to eat my lunch, and the thought occurred to me that this might be the last sunshine I saw until next spring. I laid back to enjoy that feeling for just a minute, and I guess I fell asleep. I got woken up by the screaming of Dondi-eh. She was my favorite. I jumped up, but I knew immediately that there was nothing I could do.” He glanced at Alex and the others. “I am sorry my father got you to agree to do this. I don’t think any human can kill these creatures. I believe we will have to leave the island to them and start over somewhere else.”
Alex nodded and hummed to himself. He had heard this kind of talk before.
“Do you have any idea where they live?”
“There is a windswept corner of the island that has always been unoccupied. There are huge rocks scattered around, and deep natural holes. It’s the only place on the island that doesn’t have people around it regularly, so they’ve got to be there.”
“Show me.”
They passed all the fenced-in areas and lean-tos that protected the winter’s hay, and came to the end of the path. They continued on, climbing up a small hill that looked down at the surrounding lake and an area just as he had described.
Between the boulders, which were taller than a man, and the dark shadowy holes, it was a perfect environment to hide.
“Are you sure there are only two of them?”
Jabril-ak stopped, as though he had never considered that.
“No. How would we know?”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Alex said. “Are they seen more often in daytime or night?”
“We’ve never seen them after dark.”
Alex laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You feel guilty because you were sleeping when the dandra-ta came. But if you had been standing right next to your milk-beast, there’s nothing you could have done except die yourself. And if you had died, you would not have been able to help us as much as you have.”
The boy tried to smile, but it was half-hearted.
“Let’s go back to the village now. We didn’t have a good night’s rest last night, so if you can give us a bed, we’ll sleep for a few hours. We’ll hunt them tonight.”
Chapter Twenty
The Hunt
Alex spoke confidently of getting a few hours’ sleep, but that was easier to speak of than to do. Jabril-ak led them to a small hut that had three beds, and told them he would wake them for a late supper.
When he left them alone, Senta-eh said, “So, what is our plan?”
“I appreciate your faith in me, but I have no idea. No plan. Tokin-ak seemed to have some familiarity with these creatures, so before we leave, I will ask him what he knows. Maybe he has some holy man magic he can work for us.”
“You joke,” Senta-eh said, “but that might be exactly what happens.”
“I’m happy to accept all assistance in all forms.” Alex laid on the soft blankets, which were more comfortable than anything he’d had to sleep on in many days. But still, sleep did not come. He tossed and turned, and then got mad at himself for not sleeping when he knew he would need to be as sharp as he could that night. He had just given up trying to go to sleep when he finally drifted off. He was surprised, then, when Senta-eh shook him awake.
“They’ve got dinner for us.”
“Even condemned prisoners get a last meal,” Alex mumbled.
“What are you talking about? We are free. We can still leave and go back the way we came.”
“Never mind. And, how sure are you of that? What if we wanted to leave and the man with the barge would not give us passage? What are we going to do, get our horses to swim across?”
“You woke up in a happy frame of mind,” Werda-ak observed.
“Never mind me. Let’s go see what the non-meat eaters call supper.”
When they arrived back at the same dining hall, the reception this time was different. Warmer. All conversation ended when they walked into the room, and everyone smiled and raised a hand in greeting. Dozens of cries of “Gunta!” rang out cheerily through the room.
All hail the conquering heroes, who may not live to see another sunrise.
Jabril-ak met them at the door and escorted them to his father’s table, where Tokin-ak also waited for them. He smiled placidly at them.
He’s smiling because he is sitting here safe and warm while we go out and face the creatures.
“You asked us for weapons,” Nanka-ak said, and pointed to a table behind him. “This is what we have.”
It was as motley a gathering of weapons as Alex had ever seen. There were a few decent cudgels, but most everything else was a farm implement of some sort that could have possibly been used as a weapon in a moment of desperation. There was even two wooden swords, like children played with.
Alex picked one up and turned it in his hand.
No need to be a jerk about it. If these people had proper weapons, they probably wouldn’t need us.
“Thank you. We will make do with what we have.”
“As I said this morning,” Nanka-ak said, “we are farmers, not fighters.”
Alex glanced at two men standing guard at the back of the hall. They were in no danger of attack, so Alex guessed it was mostly a ceremonial position, left over from another time.
“It’s fine,” Alex said, but approached the two guards, who stood stiff and straight, each holding a long, thick spear.
“May I see your spear?” Alex asked.
The guard did not give it up, but without turning his head, moved his eyes to Nanka-ak, who put two fingers to his forehead. The guard leaned the spear forward. Alex took it and hefted it. It was a heavy spear, as tall as he was, with a wicked-looking sharpened stone on the end. He held it out, balancing it, feeling the weight of it.
He turned to Nanka-ak. “These. I need these.”
The chieftain hesitated. It was obvious that these weapons were part of some important ceremony within the tribe and he did not want to give it up. At the same time, he did not want the dandra-ta overrunning their village. This was no time to stand on ceremony.
“Give him the spears,” he finally said, his voice filled with uncertainty.
Alex did not say, ‘I will return them unharmed,’ or make any other pointless reassurance. He wasn’t sure he would be returning, let alone the weapons. He accepted the heavy spears and carried them back to the table, handing one to Werda-ak, who accepted it with pride.
“Now, since we will be approaching them in darkness, we would like a number of torches. Can you provide us with those?”
Nanka-ak pointed at Jabril-ak, who disappeared out the front door.
“While we wait,” Nanka-ak said, “please, eat.” He gestured to bowls full of steaming stew and a large platter of cornbread, a smaller bowl of creamy butter and more of the thick milk.
Quietly, Alex said to Werda-ak, “They may not eat meat, but if they eat like this every night, it’s a wonder they aren’t fat.”
Werda-ak already had his mouth stuffed full of cornbread and said, “Mnnnnf?”
“Never mind. Eat.”
Before they were finished, Jabril-ak returned, carrying a heavy armload of sticks wrapped in a foul-smelling cloth.
“Thank you,” Alex said, slurping down the last of the stew, which was surprisingly tasty, even without meat. “Set them down and we’ll get them on the way out.” He turned back to Nanka-ak. “If we’re not back by morning, you’ll either want to find another volunteer to send out, or start packing, because we’ll be dead.”
Tokin-ak gestured for Alex to approach him. Alex sat beside him and leaned his head in close. Tokin-ak whispered in his ear, then raised his eyebrows at him. Alex nodded, a gesture that meant nothing to anyone in the room, then remembered and put two fingers against his forehead.
That was enough of a goodbye for Alex, so he turned on his
heel and marched out the door into the darkness.
The four of them—Monda-ak included—followed the same route as they had earlier in the day. Alex took inventory of their weapons.
Senta-eh had her bow and her stabbing knife, with a final, shorter knife tucked into her belt. Werda-ak had an ax that wasn’t too heavy for his thin frame, the spear, and a long cordage of rope wrapped around his shoulder. Alex himself felt better about their chances while he was holding the borrowed spear. It was what he hunted with in Winten-ah and felt right in his hand. He also had his stone hammer, which could inflict a lot of damage, and his knife.
At the edge of town, where there was still a glow from the town’s torches, Alex sat down on the side of the path and laid the six torches out. He unwrapped the cloth and moved it down the stake until the wood at the top was exposed. With his knife, he whittled a sharp point. He showed it to Senta-eh and handed her two others. She set to work. Alex sent Werda-ak to light one of the now-sharpened torches. By the time he returned, all five of the others were sharpened and ready.
Using the single torch to light their way, they returned to the hilltop that looked over the rugged area of boulders and holes. They sat in complete silence for long minutes, peering through the darkness, lit only by the stars, looking for movement.
Seeing none, Alex said, “Tokin-ak told me that the poison is not in their bite, but in the tips of the spikes on their tails. So, it’s not good to get bit, but it’s not fatal. If they sink one of those spikes into you, though, you’ve only got a few hours to live unless you can get back to the village. They have a healer who thinks she has created a poultice that will draw the poison out if it hasn’t spread too far.”
Werda-ak lifted a finger. “Bite bad.” He lifted another. “Tail worse. Got it.”
Alex bent over and put his face inches away from Monda-ak’s. “You stay here. You can’t help me and I don’t want to have to worry about you.”
Monda-ak whined, but sat on his haunches.