An Alex Hawk Time Travel Adventure (Book 2): Lost In Kragdon-Ah

by Inmon, Shawn

  A funny image popped into Alex’s mind. He envisioned a series of birdhouses, each labeled with a location name—“Winten-ah,” “Tonton-ah,” etc. It was like a primitive version of a telephone switchboard. The more he thought about it, though, the more he realized that might not be too far from the truth.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Alex said. “No one in Kragdon-ah has a written language. How do they send a message without it?”

  “No one? How can you be sure of that? Have you been everywhere?”

  An old Johnny Cash song, I’ve been Everywhere, popped into Alex’s mind.

  It feels like I have.

  “No. Are you saying you have a written language in Lasta-ah?”

  Harta-ak smiled gently at Alex. “I do not want to be insulting, and I will try not to be. But, those of us who live along the Okrent-ah look on the people who live on the other side of the mountains as a little...” he seemed to be groping for a non-offensive word.

  “Backward?” Alex said helpfully.

  “Yes, that would be accurate. Or, perhaps, primitive would work as well. Those villages and people all seem very committed to keeping their lives the same, generation after generation. In this part of the world, we are more committed to building a modern life. To us, it feels like we are just at the beginning of something tremendous.”

  Or the beginning of the end. Again.

  Alex glanced at Senta-eh and Werda-ak to see if they objected to being characterized as backward or primitive. They did not. More, they seemed to take a pride in that designation. They believed it was the correct way.

  “In Lasta-ah, we have a library. All children are taught their letters and numbers before they choose their life path. Most still go into whatever work their parents did, but if someone shows a natural talent in one area or another, they are encouraged to follow it.”

  Alex’s head was reeling. He couldn’t be sure that what Harta-ak was laying out was accurate, of course. It was all guess work. But, it was all plausible. It was a possible answer to the questions that had been plaguing Alex since he had started on this journey.

  But, he felt like he had struck gold—a source of information that might help him put an actual plan together.

  “What can you tell me about the city?” That’s what Alex said, but what he meant was, ‘What are you willing to tell me about the city?’

  “Well,” Harta-ak said, rubbing his beardless chin, “no city is impregnable, but Lasta-ah has survived and grown for so many generations by being almost so. The city is built as a large rectangle, with the Okrent-ah on one side with high banks and a limited number of docks and piers. Then there are tall walls that cover the other three sides.”

  “What are the walls made out of? Tall trees?”

  “Ah, like Grinta-ah? No. Our craftsmen are the best in the world. We build our walls out of nanta.”

  “Nanta?” Alex asked. That was another word he’d never heard.

  “Yes, nanta.” He mimed mixing materials together. “You know, mud, straw, and sand, all mixed together?”

  Holy cow. Bricks. They have a freaking brick wall around their city. I guess I won’t be able to burn them out like I did Denta-ah.

  “How do people get in and out of the city?”

  “They know they can’t wall off the waterway, so they’ve effectively limited the number of boats and barges that can land at any one time. Then, the wall is a thousand paces long on each end and five thousand paces across the back. There is a single gate on each wall. Each gate is large. Six large carts can pass abreast and not touch each other. They close all gates just after sundown.”

  The city was beginning to take shape in his mind. “How big are the buildings?”

  “Most are small, only ten or fifteen paces to a side. Those are the houses, the small businesses, that sort of thing. There is one large building in the center of town. It is the town hall. Draka-ak lives there, along with his best fighters. I think that would be where he would keep your Chosen One.”

  Versa-eh stuck her head above the ladder. “Are you all going to do nothing but talk, talk, talk all day?”

  Alex took that to mean that she wanted them to leave so she might talk, talk, talk with Harta-ak herself. He was beyond grateful to her for helping him connect the dots, and was more than happy to leave her to flirt all she wanted.

  “One more question,” Alex said. “I know you are dropping everyone off in just a few hours.”

  Harta-ak pointed a finger in the distance. Alex turned and saw that what appeared to be a small fishing village was coming into view.

  “Even sooner. Now that you know why we are trying to get to Lasta-ah, are you willing to help us get there? Will you take us all the way?”

  Harta-ak considered, looking first at Alex, then at Versa-eh, who smiled at him prettily.

  “No. I cannot take you to Lasta-ah.”

  “I understand,” Alex said.

  “If I take you to Lasta-ah, you will be slaughtered. You wouldn’t stand a chance. They inspect each boat as it comes into port. But, I will take you as far downriver as is safe. There is another village just a few miles away from Lasta-ah that has an uneasy alliance with them. It will be safe to drop you off there. From there, it will be up to you.”

  Alex put a hand on Harta-ak’s shoulder and said, “Thank you.”

  Harta-ak returned the gesture and with a grim smile, said, “For my father.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Before the Rescue

  The barge pulled in to the small village of Rapka-ah by apex. As each of the passengers disembarked, Harta-ak gave them something from his stores—a small barrel of ale, a large, egg-laying chicken—that they could use to barter for a new beginning.

  Several of the refugees told Harta-ak that they would wait for him to pass through again and repay him, but he asked instead that they do something kind for someone in need.

  The man who had identified as being from Lasta-ah was the last one off and cast interested glances at Alex and friends.

  Alex watched him disembark and disappear into the crowd.

  Did we talk too loudly with Harta-ak? Is he already off to find a traka-ta to send a message back home? If so, the bird will arrive before we do? Will they be ready and waiting for us? But, they are probably already prepared for us—the mighty force of the four of us.

  Alex volunteered them to work on the rest of the voyage to Lasta-ah, but Harta-ak told him it wasn’t necessary. While they were on the river, there was little to do.

  “If you want to help with the loading and unloading at each port we come to, you are welcome.”

  Supper that afternoon was the same stew they’d had the day before. Harta-ak explained the rules when it came to that. “A cook is appointed for each voyage. He will prepare every meal unless someone complains about the food. If someone is foolish enough to say something bad, they become the cook until the next complaint. So,” he added with a smile, “no one complains.”

  Versa-eh said, “I hope this doesn’t hurt the feelings of whoever made this, but it tastes like it was made with an old boot.”

  Harta-ak looked at her in mock horror.

  She laughed, and said, “Not really. It’s fine. But, I am a good cook, and I hate not having something to do, so I will do the cooking from now on.”

  A homely man with two missing teeth in front smiled broadly. Apparently, he had been the cook up until that moment.

  “How many days until we come to the village next to Lasta-ah?” Alex asked.

  “We will land there in nine days. You should rest until then. You will need your strength in order to take back the Chosen One.”

  If Lanta-eh is as powerful as everyone believes, why doesn’t she escape on her own? Strike them dead, or put a curse on those who hold her? Why is it that only non-believers ask these questions?

  “I told you that I would do what I can to help you avenge my father’s death. There is something else I want to do for you.”

  “Tha
t’s not necessary,” Alex said.

  “Probably not, but I am going to do it anyway. In two days, we will dock in a larger town called Klaka-ah. They are famous for the quality of the weapons they make. I’ve noticed you are a little light on weapons for an invasion force.”

  Alex held up his two fists. “At this late date, we are down to these.”

  “I will be trading some goods I picked up in Grinta-ah, and I will help arm you.”

  Versa-eh reached into her bag and pulled out a small statue, no larger than her hand. It was finely detailed and made out of a greenish stone. “You don’t need to do that.” She handed the statue to Alex. “I think you’ll be able to get whatever you need with this.”

  Harta-ak looked at Versa-eh, and it was obvious he was reevaluating her. “Maybe you are not the poor island refugee girl I thought you were.”

  “A girl needs to have her secrets.”

  Alex felt humbled. These were two people he had not known for long. One was almost a complete stranger. The idea that they would go out of their way to help him complete this mission had a huge impact on him.

  “Thank you,” was all he could find to say.

  Life settled in on the ship, and the days took on a rhythm of their own. The crew was friendly and accepting of the four newcomers. Versa-eh proved to be a big improvement to the cook she replaced. More than that, she and Harta-ak found ways to spend most of every day together. It wasn’t unusual to see the two of them sitting cross-legged on the deck, leaning toward each other so much that their foreheads nearly touched.

  Alex, Werda-ak, and Senta-eh spent time talking about what weapons they would buy in Klaka-ah. A bow and quiver of arrows was an obvious choice for Senta-eh, but Alex and Werda-ak were more undecided. Alex had trained with a wide variety of weapons and Werda-ak had been trained in none. After much discussion of the possibilities, they elected to wait and see what was available.

  When they docked in Klaka-ah, everyone pitched in to offload some cargo and load on different barrels and boxes.

  Alex was curious about what system of commerce was springing up along Okrent-ah.

  Carrying a small, heavy barrel, he asked Harta-ak, “How do you profit doing this?”

  “The trick is to buy things where they are made. If a town makes an over-supply of an item, they are willing to sell it cheaper. For instance, Klaka-ah makes more weapons than their people need. But, the hundreds of guards in Grinta-ah need them. So, I’ll load boxes of axes, swords, and shields here and trade them for fresh fruits I picked up yesterday. Buy where something is cheap, sell where it is dear. Simple.”

  Simple. And the world of commerce starts to turn again. How long until someone sets up a bank, giving loans and charging interest? Maybe they already are.

  After the barge was loaded and ready to leave, Harta-ak left half his men behind to guard the barge, then freed the others to go into town for a few hours, and led Alex and company into the village.

  From several blocks away, a sharp, clanging noise reached them. When they turned a corner, they saw what appeared to be a blacksmith. He held a short sword against a heavy anvil and beat it with a hammer. Sweat poured off the man, who hummed an unfamiliar tune as he swung his hammer.

  Further ahead, on another side of the street, Alex saw another, this one with two men working.

  The iron age is here in Klaka-ah.

  Past the two smithies was a large building with a wide entrance. Inside was what looked like a farmer’s market. But these merchants weren’t selling fruits and vegetables. They were selling the fruit of the blacksmith’s labors.

  Each vendor had a table in front of him and most of them were specialists, it appeared. The first table on the right when they walked in had a variety of axes. Not the kind you used to chop firewood so much as the kind you might use to remove someone’s arm or head. There were axes so big that when Alex hefted one, he felt like a child holding something that belonged to his father.

  The man behind the counter reached out and plucked it effortlessly away from Alex, then said, “You might find something you’re interested in down here.”

  He was right. At the far end of the table there were smaller axes that weighed only a few pounds, but had a blade sharper than anything Alex had seen since he had arrived in Kragdon-ah. As it turned out, that was true of everything he saw in the weapons mart.

  Alex found an ax that weighed perhaps six or seven pounds, had a sharpened blade on both sides and a thick leather thong that ran through the handle.

  “This is perfect,” Alex said.

  Harta-ak took the green statue from Alex and said, “You continue to look. I will take this where I can exchange it for duntas.”

  Alex didn’t ask what duntas were, but he could guess by context—some sort of monetary system. He asked the vendor to set the axe aside for him for a moment.

  The man, huge, bearded, and gruff, grunted and made no promises, but he did set it to the back of the table.

  They continued on around the tables. They found knives, stabbing swords, longer swords, and, much to Senta-eh’s relief, bows and arrows. By the time Harta-ak returned with a surprising amount of duntas, which turned out to be different-colored tiles, they had made their selections.

  Versa-eh stepped forward, accepted the stack of tiles from Harta-ak and said, “If you don’t mind, I will do the trading for us.” She looked at Alex and said, “I’ve seen how you negotiate.”

  Alex laughed and agreed. He had many skills. Negotiating was not among them.

  It was entertaining to see Versa-eh in action. It really was like a play where everyone knew their lines. The vendor would make an offer, Versa-eh would spit on the floor, roll her eyes, and make a ridiculous counteroffer. They would argue and shout while everyone else ignored them. Finally, they would get so heated that their noses almost touched and the gap between offer and acceptance was so small that it could no longer be split. Then, they would agree, laugh, and be the best of friends.

  They repeated the process at different tables until they were fully equipped. Alex noted that Versa-eh still had a tidy pile of dunta tiles, which she slipped into the bag she never let out of her sight.

  They returned to the barge via the shortest route, disappointing Werda-ak, who voted to explore the town more. He was overruled.

  Back on board, they pushed off, raised the sail, and headed south.

  The week passed quickly. Alex trained Werda-ak to use his new sword, shield, and knife. Versa-eh made increasingly delicious meals with meats, herbs, and vegetables she bought along the way.

  Alex enjoyed watching the romance bloom between she and Harta-ak. It surprised him a bit. Versa-eh had seemed to be ambitious and somewhat calculating when it came to choosing a mate. Alex would have thought that a young barge captain wouldn’t have been her first choice.

  As he often proved to be, Alex was wrong.

  The night before they finally landed in Tranta-ah—the village near to Lasta-ah—Versa-eh came to Alex and Senta-eh, who sat, watching the water flow past the barge.

  “I will not be getting off with you tomorrow.”

  Alex thought about it. He was not surprised, as he had not expected her to. He wasn’t sure what he did think she was going to do, but there was no reason for her to come with them to try and rescue Lanta-eh. This was their adventure, not hers.

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Harta-ak has asked if I would come to Lasta-ah with him and meet his mother.”

  “Oh,” Alex said, smiling. “I see how it is.”

  Alex would not have bet that Versa-eh was capable of blushing. She seemed so sure of herself so much of the time, but that’s exactly what she did.

  She smiled sweetly and said, “That is how it is.”

  Senta-eh touched her shoulder and said, “Congratulations. If you two hadn’t connected, I might have thought something was wrong with the world.”

  Versa-eh looked from Senta-eh to Alex and back. “I know what you mean.�
��

  Both of them knew what she meant, and both of them ignored it.

  Late the next afternoon, the barge pulled into the docks of Tranta-ah. It wasn’t much of a town, especially compared to many of the others they had visited, but Harta-ak managed to make the most of it by trading with local merchants. That way, it wasn’t so obvious that he was there to simply drop the travelers off. That might arouse suspicions and, as Harta-ak said, Draka-ak had spies everywhere.

  Harta-ak traded until the sun was down, then arranged for permission to stay docked until the morning.

  In the very heart of the night, Alex, Senta-eh, Werda-ak, and Monda-ak said goodbye and slipped off the boat, circumvented the main streets of the village, and struck out on the trail south. Harta-ak had told them it was an easy walk of only a few hours, and that there were a number of excellent camping sites along the way.

  Alex’s initial intention was to camp early and set out just before dawn, but once they were moving and so close to their goal, they didn’t want to stop.

  The trail they followed widened as they approached Lasta-ah and they slowed their pace. Harta-ak had told them that the town was heavily armed and that there would be patrols. Alex didn’t want to run into one of those and have the game be over before they got a chance to win. So, they slowed down, and always looked ahead.

  If there were patrols at the outer edge of Lasta-ah in the middle of the night, they did not see them. They knew they were getting closer to the town when they saw a glow in the sky.

  They came around a bend in the path and the wall was in front of them. Every fifty feet, there was a fire built on the very top of the wall, so the overall effect was that the dark of night was dispelled near the wall.