by Gary Paulsen
"Not this time." Mark let Megaan go and jumped onto his mount. He gave them all one last long look. He tried to imprint their faces on his memory.
It was time to leave.
A warning blast sounded from the tower, immediately followed by two more. Mark pulled up. He had waited too long. Mordo was already there.
"I’ll lead them away," Mark shouted. He sank his heels into the mount’s sides and raced down the road.
Two warriors were scrambling to close the front gate. Mark darted through the narrow opening and stopped on the other side. In the distance Mordo and his army were marching toward the village.
Mark stood by the wall and waited until he was sure they could see him clearly. Then he headed for the mountain.
It worked. Mordo and his army broke into a run and came after him.
Mark flew up the hill, jumping and crashing through the brush. Years ago, when he had tried to escape slavery this way, he hadn’t known where he was going. Now he did. He knew exactly where he was taking them. He only hoped they would follow.
Behind him he could hear orders being shouted and the sound of running animals. Once he was over the crest of the hill he slipped into the valley below and rode down the canyon in the open to make sure they didn’t lose sight of him.
An arrow whistled past his head. Mark turned off into a thicket. There was an old path that was almost overgrown. He had found it the month before when he was out hunting.
The army had to slow down and travel single file through the thorny brush. By the time they made it through the tangle, Mark was already up on the next hill watching them. He let his beast rest and waited for them to regroup.
He counted them. Forty men. Not an extremely large army but enough to overwhelm most villages.
Someone spotted him on the hillside and yelled. At once the chase was on.
Mark moved the silver beast into a trot. If they kept on like this, by nightfall he would have them well away from the village. After that he wasn’t really sure what his plans were. The main thing was to keep them on unfamiliar territory and keep them moving.
Mordo was more than willing to cooperate. He was relentless in the chase. Twice he thought he and his men had Mark cornered, only to find that the warrior had escaped from under their noses.
They followed him until the daylight vanished, then Mordo reluctantly ordered them to make a cold camp on the side of a mountain.
Mark made camp too, in the rocks just above them, where he could keep an eye on their activities. He slept for a few hours, then made sure his mount was tied securely and crept down to their camp. He lay watching for a long time, until he was certain the guard watching their mounts was asleep. Then he collected the bridles from their beasts, which wandered off as soon as they were untied. He dumped the bridles into a nearby deep pit.
He had planned to relieve the group of some of their supplies as well, but one of the loose mounts knocked over a small dead tree, awakening the men.
Mark returned to his own camp, gathered his things and circled to the bottom of the mountain to wait for morning.
chapter 54
Now that most of Mordo’s men were on foot, Mark didn’t have to hurry. He led them along slowly and used the time to plan.
They had been traveling for two days and were headed straight for the jungle. At first Mark was worried that Mordo might not continue the chase, but Roan had been right. The Merkon’s son was not about to let anything stop him from getting revenge.
On the outskirts of the jungle Mark got off his mount and removed his supply bags and weapons. Where he was going now was no place for the big animal. The beast would not be able to walk through the tangled trees and vines.
He stroked the animal’s soft neck. "You go back to the village — they’ll take care of you there." He stepped back and slapped the beast hard on the rear. It jumped and then bolted off in the direction they had come from.
Mark shouldered his crossbow and supplies and entered the jungle. He was careful to leave footprints for Mordo and his men to find.
The screaming birds immediately began making a fuss. Something about the sound made him smile.
He made a wide circle, deliberately avoiding water. Mordo and his men would have to find their own. He wasn’t going to show them where it lay.
Mark walked to the burned-out village of the arrow people. There was nothing left except a few blackened spots on the ground. He stood in the middle of the space, remembering what it had been like. He had been so glad to find people back then. Leeta and her tribe had been his first contacts in Transall. They had taught him that in this world, war and killing weren’t a part of life, they were life.
He walked to the place where the arrow people had cut the path out of the jungle. It was completely overgrown now. Mark found a good spot to hide his supplies and took his water pouch to see if the stream was still there.
After he had found the water, he gathered his things and headed deeper into the jungle. He wanted Mordo to follow him, but from here on he would make it more difficult.
Occasionally he left footprints and broke off twigs but he moved faster than before. He wanted to get to the dark jungle and have a chance to prepare before the army got there.
It started raining. Mark remembered how it used to rain suddenly here. A clap of thunder broke the silence and the drops flooded down in sheets.
He knew how to stay dry by sticking close to the broad-leafed trees, but as he traveled deeper into the jungle he didn’t feel the rain at all. It could not penetrate the heavy overgrowth.
He passed through the clearing where he had killed the Howling Thing and went on to the large pool. He was careful not to leave any sign that he had been there. When he left he would cover his tracks so that Mordo and his men would not find the water.
There was a rabbit creature watering at the edge. Mark moved closer until he could see his reflection. The young man looking back at him was a stranger. He had powerful shoulders and a full chest. His hair hung to the middle of his back and his tanned-hide clothing fit closely.
So this was what the years had done to him. He liked it. The whisker-stubbled face looking back at him was a good one, capable and strong. A thought flashed through his mind. If he had not come to Transall he probably would have looked entirely different.
He knelt and scooped up a handful of the cool water. Then he carefully backtracked to the trail he was creating for Mordo’s men.
Finally he made it to the meadow at the edge of the dark jungle. This was where he had spent those first critical months learning how to survive. He wondered at the thought of it. It had seemed hopeless back then. Now he could exist anywhere he chose. The animals and the elements were no longer a threat. In a strange way they had become his friends.
Something stirred in the bushes. Mark knew without looking what it was. A buffalo creature had picked up his scent and was looking for him. He stood completely still and waited for it to give up and go away.
Then he moved across the meadow to the spot where he had built his tree house. The jungle had taken it over. His ladder was still there, and he hacked away at the vines until he could climb it.
The floor of his old house had fallen through. He looked up to the top branches, half expecting to see the little white monkey-bear, Willie, that had been his friend during those rough times.
The thunder rumbled again. He could hear the rain pelting the tops of the trees. Before he climbed down he stripped several long pieces of bark off the weathered branches he had used to make the floor of his tree house and tucked them under his arm.
The dark jungle still unnerved him. He stepped into the shadows and let his eyes adjust to the dim light. If Mordo and his men were smart they would not follow him here. It was a dangerous place even when you knew your way around.
Mark tied long vines across the trail at ankle height in a few strategic places. Then he hid his pieces of dry bark. Later he would pour some of his black powder on them.
He tested a nearby hanging vine and quickly, almost effortlessly, climbed it. In the top branches of the tree he tied his supply bags to a limb.
The clicking started.
Mark grabbed some tree rocks, crouched on the branch and waited for the monkey-bears to appear. He had played this trick on them years before.
They assembled in the tree to his right. Mark remained motionless until they were about to attack him, expecting him to walk by on the ground below.
Then Mark jumped up, growled and tossed the rocks at them. He laughed as they raced for cover in the jungle.
One little white creature stayed behind. Mark stared into its eyes. "Willie? Is that you?"
For a moment it looked as if the monkey-bear might stay. Mark held his hand out. Suddenly it whirled and raced after the others into the safety of darkness.
"I guess it’s been too long,’! Mark muttered. He swung to the ground and walked out of the dark jungle: There was no sign of Mordo and his men. He didn’t understand. He had practically blazed a trail for them to follow. They should be here by now.
He checked his supply of arrows and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. There was nothing to do but try to find them.
He took a step and a tree rock hit him in the center of the back. Mark turned. A monkey-bear was sitting on the ground just outside the shadows, looking perfectly innocent.
Mark picked up the rock and tossed it back. Like lightning, the monkey-bear reached up and caught it.
"Willie?" Mark sat down and waited for the creature to come closer. It took its time but finally it was standing close.
Mark gave the signal to climb on his back. Without hesitation Willie leaped on his shoulders and threw his arms around Mark’s neck.
"Good to see you," Mark said.
Willie chattered something and Mark reached around and stroked his head. "You wait here. I have to go check on something. We’ll get reacquainted when I come back."
Mark set him on the ground. Willie chattered a scolding that followed Mark across the meadow. It reminded him of the last time he had left his little friend.
Except for the usual sounds, the jungle was quiet. This baffled Mark. He was sure he had left a trail they could follow. Where were they?
He backtracked to the clearing where he had killed the Howling Thing. There was no sign of the army. Then, instead of going back through the burned-out village, Mark cut across to the spot where he thought the army would enter.
It was almost dark and he could see campfires outside the jungle. Apparently the men had decided not to come in after him.
Mark crept closer and hid behind the trunk of a large red tree. He could see Mordo pacing back and forth with a scowl on his face. Another soldier was loudly complaining that the small troop he had sent into the jungle to do some scouting ought to be back by now.
So that’s it, Mark thought. Mordo wasn’t sure he wanted to go into the jungle. Instead he had sent in a scouting expedition. Well, that wasn’t good enough. Mark backed into the shadows. Tomorrow he would think of a way to convince Mordo to join him.
chapter 55
The heavy explosion rocked the quiet morning. Three men who had been sleeping too close to the fire when Mark had tossed his homemade bomb were hurled sideways by the blast.
Dust billowed and the camp came alive in seconds. One soldier spotted a tall running figure. "There he goes!" he shouted to the others.
"After him!" Mordo ordered. "A sack of tribute to the man who kills the outlaw."
Mark darted from tree to tree, allowing them only brief glimpses of him. When he was sure they had taken the bait, he headed straight for the dark jungle:
In one of the small clearings he heard a buffalo creature snorting. It had blood on its horns and face and was busy tossing what looked like the remains of one of the scouts in the air.
Mark shuddered and looked away. He had other things to think about. It made him uncomfortable to know that Mordo’s scouts were somewhere out in front of him.
Behind him he could hear Mordo’s men coming. He circled the clearing and waited on the other side. The army startled the buffalo creature. It pawed the ground and charged.
A dozen arrows sank into the beast’s head and sides but it kept coming. It gored one soldier and would have kept fighting if Mordo hadn’t thrust his sword through its heart.
The creature fell to one knee and then toppled over, dead. Mordo didn’t stop. He ordered the rest to keep searching for Mark.
Mark deliberately made noise in the brush and then slipped away. When he neared the red meadow in front of the dark jungle he stopped to watch and listen. There was no sign of the scouting party.
He crossed the meadow and waited in the shadows near his old tree house. He didn’t wait long.
Mordo and his men stepped out of the brush and scanned the trees. One of the soldiers began to scream. He had stepped on a colony of fire bugs. The warrior rolled on the ground, trying to scrape them off.
Mordo kept moving. Mark darted out of the shadows long enough to be seen briefly, then moved back inside the dark jungle.
He shimmied up a vine and swung to a tree branch. Mordo’s army marched into the darkness after him.
Using the vines, Mark swung from tree to tree until he could drop to the spot where he had left his dry tree bark. He quickly poured out some of his powder, placed the bark in two strategic places and swung back up into one of the tall trees.
The birds screeched loudly, announcing the army’s arrival.
Next came the clicking. The monkey-bears greeted the strangers with their usual bombardment of tree rocks.
Mark sat patiently on a tree branch with his crossbow loaded.
Mordo continued to lead his men through the dark jungle. He cursed and threatened Mark with what he would do to him.
Mark laughed scornfully and called down, "You have to catch me first, Mordo."
Mordo searched the treetops for the source of the laughter. Suddenly he and the men leading the column tripped on one of the vines Mark had tied. They fell face first into the swamp of quicksand.
It was so dark that several others behind them stumbled into the trap, not realizing where they were until it was too late. Their heavy armor made fighting their way out impossible.
The remaining soldiers scattered and tried to leave the way they had come in. Mark sent a fire arrow into the first pile of powder. It exploded and sent several men flying. Before the others had time to think, he shot a second arrow.
Only a handful of Mordo’s men were left. Mark imitated the chilling call of the Howling Thing.
They started running.
chapter 56
Mark sat under his old tree house, sharing tree rocks with Willie. Yesterday he had followed the frightened remnant of the Merkon’s army to make sure they left the jungle.
He felt free again. Now he could go back to his village and get on with his life. He patted Willie’s head. "How would you like to come with me, boy? Barow will love you."
Thinking about going home made him gulp down the rest of his tree-rock juice and gather his things. If he hurried he could make it to the valley in less than three days.
"Well, how about it?" Mark gave Willie the signal to climb up. "Are you coming?"
The monkey-bear clicked loudly and then jumped on Mark’s back.
"That’s more like it." Mark shifted his load and started across the meadow.
He was almost to the other side when he heard an awful whirring sound and something ripped into his arm.
It was an arrow. Pain tore through his body. Four of Mordo’s men stepped out from behind trees with their weapons aimed at him.
The scouting party. Mark had completely forgotten about them. They obviously didn’t know that Mordo was dead and the rest of the army was scattered.
Mark pretended to raise his hands in surrender and then abruptly dived into the cover of some trees. Willie rolled off as Mark hit the ground. The little monkey-bear climbed the near
est tree, clicking in terror.
Mark made it to his feet and started running. The scouts were right behind him. He crashed through the jungle, not caring which direction he was taking. His only thought was to get away.
He couldn’t shake them. His arm was going numb and he felt weak. He kept running, dodging to the right and left.
A loud clap of thunder crashed through the air. The sky lit up with flashes of lightning. Mark ran through the pouring rain with Mordo’s men now only yards behind him.
He spotted a boulder to his left and sprinted toward it. If he could just reach it he could use it for cover. He half fell behind it, reached for an arrow and slid his crossbow off his arm.
His wounded arm was too weak to pull the string back. The scouts were pounding toward him. With all the strength he could muster he dragged himself up on the boulder. He pulled out his sword and prepared to leap down on them.
Lightning struck the boulder, sending balls of electricity shooting in all directions. A tube of blue light enveloped Mark and brutally shook his body.
He could feel himself falling.
Mark could hear people standing over him, talking. He felt for his sword. Somehow he had to stand and fight. He was determined to take down a few more of Mordo’s men before he died.
Groggily he rose to his feet, swinging his sword. He heard screaming and the sound of people calling to him in a strange language.
He focused. In front of him was a strange little fountain. He was no longer in the jungle. Instead he was inside some type of building. The people staring at his clothes and weapons were not from Transall.
A small boy stepped out of the crowd. "Mister, do you need a doctor? I think there’s one here in the mall."
Mark pulled the arrow out of the fleshy part of his arm. There was no wound. He looked up at the people.
The little boy had spoken to him in English.
This was his time.
His world.
The blue light had brought him back.
EPILOGUE
Twenty Years Later