Beyond the Draak’s Teeth Page 2
Kion touched Bhaldavin’s shoulder. “Be ready, ” he whispered. “If we’re separated, go north to Val-hrodhur. You’ll find sanctuary there.”
Bhaldavin gripped his father’s arm, chilled by the thought of separation.
Suddenly someone among the hidden Ni cried out and everyone started running, to scatter as the men charged the bushes along the river, shouting and waving their swords and taking aim with bows and arrows.
Bhaldavin’s family was caught in the wild scramble, but they finally broke free. His mother ran in the lead, Telia clutched in her arms. Bhaldavin stayed at her heels, running close beside his father, who carried young Dhalvad.
More men appeared. Some Ni were captured and others were cut down as Sarissan swords spilled Ni blood without regard for age or sex.
Bhaldavin stumbled and almost fell. Heart racing, he caught his balance and tried to catch up with his father, who began to drop back.
Kion pushed Dhalvad into Bhaldavin’s arms, then slapped him on the shoulder. “Follow your mother!”
Bhaldavin was too terrified to question or disobey. He shifted Dhalvad’s weight to one hip and kept going.
“Run, Bhaldavin!” Kion yelled. “Run!”
Bhaldavin started awake, his heart pounding. He looked around the confines of Garv’s cabin and remembered where he was. His thoughts went back to his dream.
No. Not a dream. Reality.
The Sarissa had declared war on the Ni-lach and had driven his people from their homes. His father had brought them to a place of supposed safety, but the men had followed.
The taste of fear he had felt that day was still with him. He brushed the stump of his arm. What happened after I started running? he wondered. What happened to my parents? Why can’t I remember?
He sat up, frustrated in his attempt to remember beyond those frightening moments when he had run from Sarissan weapons. He looked across the room to the front door; it now stood closed. The man snored softly from the other bunk.
Bhaldavin waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then he tried to untie the rope attached to his ankle cuff. But the cording had been wet and dried so many times that it had become welded into a solid knot.
He gave up and quietly gathered the rope in his hand. He had to leave, with or without the rope. He was almost sure Garv wasn’t one of the Sarissa, a member of the ruling class among men, but Sarissan or not, Garv was still a man and, therefore, his enemy.
Garv snored on as Bhaldavin moved silently past him. When he reached the door, he found it bolted with a long wooden bar that was going to be difficult to raise using only one hand.
He set his rope carefully on the floor and moved to the middle of the door. He placed his hand under the center of the bar and lifted. He felt the right side come free, then the left.
Suddenly the bar tilted to the right and Bhaldavin lost his hold. He jumped backward as the bar clunked to the floor.
The noise woke the man.
Bhaldavin dove for the door handle and jerked the door open just as Garv heaved himself off the bed. He was five or six running steps out the doorway when he came up against the end of the rope, which had become entangled with the bar. He fell hard, knocking the air from his lungs. By the time he recovered, Garv was standing over him.
“Where you going, Little Fish? It’s not morning yet.”
Garv pulled Bhaldavin up and took him back inside. After lighting the candle that stood in the center of the table, he untangled the rope from the bar and pushed Bhaldavin back onto the bed. He then tied the ankle rope to one of the posts at the bottom of the bed. With another piece of cord, he lashed Bhaldavin’s arm to the right-hand post above his head.
“No more wandering!” Garv admonished, pointing a finger in Bhaldavin’s face. “Go to sleep now. Garv will tell you when it’s morning.”
Angry words trembled on Bhaldavin’s lips, but some inner warning cautioned him to silence. There was something definitely strange in the man’s behavior. The way he talked to himself and his little fish made Bhaldavin nervous.
Bhaldavin turned his head to the side and closed his eyes, swallowing his anger. There was an old Ni saying that it was better not to pull the gensvolf’s tail without first counting its teeth, meaning that if Garv was mentally unbalanced, it would be foolish to antagonize him.
Garv blew out the candle flame and returned to bed, mumbling to himself.
Bhaldavin waited for Garv to settle down, then he tested the rope at his wrist. He found it secure; there would be no escaping that night.
Chapter 2
BHALDAVIN WOKE THE NEXT MORNING TO THE SOUND OF Garv’s voice. The man’s running conversation with himself continued as he prepared breakfast.
Garv wielded his knife with practiced skill. Within minutes he had filled two dishes with nabob roots cut into bite-sized pieces, over which he poured a hot, white gravy.
Garv looked up and grinned at Bhaldavin. “Little Fish hungry?” he asked, as he shambled toward the bed.
Not waiting for an answer, he reached for Bhaldavin’s arm and pulled him to a sitting position. He placed a wooden plate of roots and gravy on the floor next to Bhaldavin’s feet, then took his own plate to the small table and sat down.
“Little Fish will feel better if he eats something. Then we will go to the lake for a little while. Garv needs fish for trading.”
Bhaldavin looked down at the orange roots swimming in the gravy. He was hungry, and he liked nabob roots both cooked and raw, but the gravy had a strange smell that made him hesitate.
Garv looked up from his plate. “Eat, Little Fish. It’s good.”
Bhaldavin picked up the plate and set it on the bed. Garv hadn’t supplied him with any kind of eating implement, so he stirred the mixture with a finger and tasted it. It was salty but edible. He fingered all the nabob out of the gravy, then lifted the plate and drank the remains.
Garv continued to talk, not once pausing to give Bhaldavin time to answer a question. When he finished eating, he came and took Bhaldavin’s bowl, rinsed it along with his own, and set both on the hearth to dry. Then he returned and patted Bhaldavin on the shoulder.
“Little Fish ready to go now?”
Bhaldavin moved out from under Garv’s hand, but the big man seemed not to notice as he bent to unfasten Bhaldavin’s ankle rope. Garv coiled the rope in one hand, then turned to pick up his fishing net and pole.
Garv’s cabin was set off by itself in a patch of overgrown bushes only a few paces from a tall stockade wall. Garv led Bhaldavin along a narrow dirt path on the inside of the wall until they came to a small gate that was guarded by a single man.
“All quiet today, Garv, ” the man said as Garv approached. “No draak in the area.”
Garv nodded and walked on, strangely quiet.
Bhaldavin looked at the gate guard as he passed, and for a moment their glances locked. Was it pity Bhaldavin saw in the man’s face? Or disgust? He couldn’t tell.
A fifteen-minute walk brought Garv and Bhaldavin to a large backwater fed by the nearby river. Garv led Bhaldavin along the riverbank, then cut to the right down a well-worn path overhung with veil vine draped from tree to tree. When they reached the edge of the water, Garv tied the free end of Bhaldavin’s rope to a loop in his belt and waved him back away from the water.
“Little Fish rests today. Garv doesn’t want you getting sick again. You can help Garv fish tomorrow.”
As Garv settled down with his pole, Bhaldavin moved as far away from the man as the rope would allow and walked back and forth in what appeared to be aimless wandering, but his eyes were busy searching the ground for something he could use either as a weapon or a means of freeing himself from the rope.
Finally he found a small rock that had a sharp edge. Sitting down, he turned away from Garv and began to work on the rope. But the draakhide was tough and resisted such a poor cutting edge.
Giving up, he threw the rock into the water. He was frustrated and growing impatient.
For a few minutes Bhaldavin actually contemplated an attack on the large man, but Garv seemed to be extraordinarily alert, turning to check on his captive whenever Bhaldavin moved.
Deciding to try one more tack, Bhaldavin went to the edge of the water and sat for a while, hoping that the water, as it soaked through the draakhide, would loosen the knot. It didn’t. Glaring at the offensive knot, he moved back from the water’s edge and lay down, his back to Garv. Anger and self-pity brought a lump to his throat. He hated himself at that moment, his crippled body, his ineffectiveness. He felt awkward and clumsy, and he knew that it would take him a long time to feel at home with his new body.
By late afternoon Garv had caught twelve large stoa and seven good-sized brekel. Satisfied with his day’s labor, he put his catch in his net bag and called Bhaldavin from the shallows.
Bhaldavin was wading knee-deep in the water and pulling up handfuls of a bottom weed called seena. The dark green leafy fronds were edible raw, and Bhaldavin was hungry. Stuffing several pieces in his mouth, he gathered another handful, but waded ashore as Garv began to coil the ankle rope.
Garv met him at the edge of the water. “What you want that for?” He slapped at Bhaldavin’s hand, trying to make him drop the grass. “Throw it away. It’s no good.”
Bhaldavin turned to the side and stepped back, trying to protect his small gather. Suddenly he came up against the rope and fell, half-in, half-out of the water. He sat up and flicked water from his face.
Garv stood looking down at him, frowning; then he shrugged. “Little Fish wants seaweed, he can have it. Come. Stand up! It’s time to go now.”
Garv pulled Bhaldavin to his feet and turned him back toward the path leading to the stockade. As they walked, Garv spoke about the fishing that day, his plans for tomorrow, and the upcoming trade fair to be held the next month. His words spilled out in an unending waterfall of sound. Bhaldavin wondered if the man ever stopped talking.
The guard at the gate had been changed. The new man nodded to Garv and asked how the fishing had gone.
Garv just nodded and walked on, eyes straight ahead, his hand on the back of Bhaldavin’s neck, guiding him down the pathway they had walked that morning.
Bhaldavin glanced up, wondering at Garv’s silence when confronted by other men.
When they reached the cabin, Garv took Bhaldavin inside and fastened the end of the rope to his bedpost; then he took a sharp knife from a shelf high on the wall and left to clean the fish.
Bhaldavin dropped his gather of grass at the foot of the bed and looked out through the open doorway. Garv was working right outside the door, where he could keep an eye on the room and its occupant.
Bhaldavin glanced quickly around the room, searching for something with which to cut the rope, but found nothing.
He turned and glanced out through the doorway, deciding to bide his time. Escape should not prove too difficult, he thought, if I plan properly. His failure to escape the night before had been his own fault. He had been in too much of a hurry and had not thought things out.
He sat down on the floor and began to pull the grass apart so it could dry. As he worked, he tried to recall something of the past few years, anything that would give him a hint as to where he was and how long he had been Garv’s little fish.
His loss of memory worried him. Why, if escape looked so easy, hadn’t he attempted it before? Perhaps he had, he thought. Why couldn’t he remember?
He was startled from his thoughts by the door banging closed behind him. He turned as Garv crossed the floor and set the gutted fish on a large wood platter on the table.
Garv came over to inspect the grass Bhaldavin had spread in the corner. “What does Little Fish want with smelly grass?”
Bhaldavin took a small piece of grass and put it into his mouth.
Garv’s dark eyebrows lifted in surprise as Bhaldavin chewed on the grass. “Little Fish likes to eat seaweed?”
The man went to a knee beside Bhaldavin and took some of the grass, sniffed it, and put it into his mouth. He spat it out seconds later.
“Garv doesn’t like your seaweed, Little Fish. You want it, you can eat it, but don’t make yourself sick.”
Rising, Garv left Bhaldavin and went to start a fire in the hearth, which filled a good portion of one wall of the cabin. The other walls were made of solid oak logs.
Bhaldavin watched Garv for a few seconds, then returned to his own work, lifting and separating the grass to speed the drying process. He listened to Garv move around the room behind him, but ignored the man’s muttering, knowing now that he wasn’t expected to answer.
A few minutes later, Garv stepped around the small table and tripped over Bhaldavin’s leg. Cursing loudly, he caught Bhaldavin by the arm and propelled him onto the nearby bed.
“Little Fish stays there, out of Garv’s way, ” he growled. “No more playing with smelly grass.”
Time passed. Bhaldavin lay quietly on the bed watching Garv busily preparing supper. It seemed impossible that he had no memories of the man beyond the previous day.
He lifted a lock of hair from his shoulder and straightened it out until it reached his stomach. He knew that Kion would be shamed if he saw it so long and unkempt, for only Elders or Seekers ever wore their hair so long, and he certainly had no right to claim either title.
Thoughts of his father stirred thoughts of his home in the Deep, filling him with sadness. He closed his eyes, trying to relieve the burning pressure of tears that ached for release; but the tears wouldn’t come because the memories behind them were locked in his past, where he couldn’t reach them.
A sudden knock on the door startled Bhaldavin.
Garv was checking the fire to see if the coals were ready to use. Before he could stand up to see who was there, the door swung open and a small clean-shaven man stepped through the doorway. He had dark hair and a hooked nose that was accented by a pair of lively brown eyes.
“Hello, Brother.”
Garv smiled widely. “Theon! I thought you would be gone for another week!”
“My plans didn’t work out. ” Theon glanced at the fish lying on the table. “Am I invited for supper?”
Garv nodded. “There’s more than enough.”
Theon set a small backpack down next to the nearest bed. “What are you having besides fish?”
“Nabob roots in gravy and spice bread.”
Theon rolled his eyes. “Should have known. That’s all you ever eat. I’m going to have to teach you to cook something else, Brother. A man can survive on food like that, but sooner or later it’s going to drive him crazy.”
Garv went to the table to cut and debone the fish. “Sit down, Theon, and tell me about your trip.”
“First let me say hello to Little Fish.”
Theon walked over to Bhaldavin’s bed and sat down on the edge of the bunk. “And how are you today, Little Fish?”
Did the man expect an answer? Bhaldavin wondered. Or was he like Garv, only talking in order to hear his own voice?
“Little Fish was sick yesterday, ” Garv said, taking the pan of fish over to the fire. “I think Chagg should look at him.”
Theon caressed Bhaldavin’s arm from shoulder to fingertips. “Chagg can’t do anything for him, Garv. You know that.”
Theon’s hand moved up Bhaldavin’s naked side, sending chills coursing up and down his spine. Uneasy, Bhaldavin edged away.
“How about letting Little Fish go home with me tonight, Garv?” Theon asked. He placed a hand on the other side of Bhaldavin’s chest, near the stub of his arm. “It’ll give you a chance to go into town without worrying about him.”
“I have no money for town, ” Garv responded without turning.
“I have. You can borrow some.”
Theon pushed Bhaldavin back onto the bed. Bhaldavin got his arm in between himself
and Theon as the man leaned down over him, but Theon was stronger than he looked and Bhaldavin couldn’t push him away.
As Theon’s lips touched his, Bhaldavin panicked and tried to twist away.
Suddenly Garv was there. He caught Theon by the back of his shirt, dragged him back away from Bhaldavin, then literally threw him across the room.
Theon hit the floor rolling and came up against the far wall with a thud.
“I told you before, ” Garv yelled, pointing his finger at Theon. “Leave Little Fish alone!”
Theon sat up, grimacing and rubbing an elbow. “Oh, come on, Garv. I wasn’t hurting him.”
“No, but you scare him. He doesn’t understand what you want.”
Theon shook his head as he got to his feet. “I’m just teasing him, Garv. A little teasing never hurt anyone.”
Theon glanced at Bhaldavin, then turned as Garv moved back to the cooking fire. “Oh, by the way, Garv, I have someone who would like to meet Little Fish, a friend of mine. He’s been looking for a draak singer.”
Garv answered without turning. “Little Fish can’t sing.”
“No, ” Theon agreed. “But if he could be taught to sing, he might be worth a lot of money. My friend said he would go as high as one hundred marks if he liked what he saw.”
Garv shook his head. “Little Fish is not for sale.”
“Think about it, Garv! It would mean—”
“No! Your friend can’t have him. He’s mine.”
“All right. All right. Forget it, ” Theon muttered. “Keep him for a pet, but you’re a fool if you don’t get better use out of him. We could be making good money with him right now if you’d have let me set things up. There are few enough of his kind around these days. There would be plenty of people who would pay just to see him!”
Garv stood and pushed past Theon to go to the table. “No. Little Fish stays here with me.”
Theon looked at his brother’s back, then glanced at Bhaldavin, who lay with his back to the wall, as far away from the two men as he could get.