Beyond the Draak’s Teeth Read online

  Theon laughed harshly. “We know all we need to know about them! If Diak’s claims are true, and man did come here from some other world, then it was probably the Ral-jennob who did the bringing, dumping us here and leaving us to fight the draak alone. I say forget the Ral-jennob! Better to concentrate on the here and now and what we can build on this world. Anyway, the old legends are full of holes. I doubt half of them are true!”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But we won’t know until we go and find out. If there really is a Barl-gan, it might mean a new way of life for all of us.”

  Bhaldavin knew little of man’s past beyond the fact that they had settled the territories in and around the Enzaar Sea more than a thousand years ago and that their coming had changed the ways of the People.

  He glanced up at the nighttime sky and saw the first of the evening stars. Was it possible that men had come from another world? Or were such thoughts just faran smoke, dream dust that made one mad?

  The light of false dawn touched the sky with a glow of mint green, pushing back the darkness. Tied once more, Bhaldavin sat in the bottom of the boat and looked out at the haze of fog that overhung the dark waters. He thought how peaceful and still it was there, before all the fishermen and river traders began their day. It reminded him of his own home in the Deep, a lush world of streams and forests, birds and animals.

  His thoughts were interrupted by fingers drumming impatiently on the side of the boat. “What’s keeping him?” Theon said. “Come on, Gringers. Come on. It’s time we were out of here!”

  Bhaldavin looked at Theon, but remained silent. Theon had grown impatient and surly since Garv’s death. He had cuffed Bhaldavin twice that morning for not moving fast enough.

  Minutes passed.

  Theon’s head lifted at the sound of footsteps on the dock. Bhaldavin turned and saw Gringers hurrying toward them; he carried two small cloth bags.

  “About time,” Theon growled as Gringers reached the boat and handed him the two bags.

  “Makel is in a bad humor. He’s in charge of all the food being taken back to the lake and he wouldn’t let me have anything extra unless I paid him for it; then he wanted to argue price! I should not have bothered. We could’ve caught fish for the next week. Seevan would’ve seen I got my share when they caught up with us.”

  “Fish for a week? Ugh!”

  Gringers stepped down into the boat. “You’re going to have to change your eating habits, my friend. A large part of your diet from now on will be fish of one kind or another.”

  “I know,” Theon said, stowing the bags in the small hold in the prow of the boat. “What did you get from Makel?”

  “Three packets of dried nida, some fresh vegetables, salt, and a few herbs.”

  “Wine?”

  “Two bottles.” Gringers reached for the mooring rope.

  A deep voice cut the morning air. “Gringers! Hold a moment.”

  Gringers looked up. “Damn! It’s Seevan. Theon, the blanket.”

  Theon pushed Bhaldavin down and quickly flipped the blanket over him, ordering him to lie still.

  Bhaldavin did as asked, not because Theon had told him to do so, but because he believed his chances of escaping two men were much better than escaping the twenty or more he had seen in the rafters camp early that morning. He listened to the footsteps on the dock; there were more than one pair. They came to a halt next to the boat. All was silent for a moment; then a man cleared his throat.

  “Leaving rather early, aren’t you, Gringers?”

  “I told you, Seevan, I might go ahead,” Gringers replied calmly.

  “So you did.” Seevan paused. “And this is Theon, if I remember right. But perhaps we should call him thief and murderer instead.”

  “Who names me so?” Theon demanded loudly.

  “A man by the name of Laran sar Vanden. He claims that you have stolen a draak singer from him, and that you killed three men while doing it. Do you deny the charges?”

  Before Theon could answer, Gringers spoke up. “Is Laran here? In Natrob?”

  “No.”

  “Then where did you hear such charges?”

  “A boatman came downriver. He arrived here late last night and spoke with several men on the town Council. With him he carried a warrant for Theon’s arrest. It seems the body of Theon’s brother was found at the scene of the theft. The warrant also specifies an unnamed man who helped Theon escape.” Seevan looked at Gringers. “A tall dark-haired man who came in his own boat.”

  Silence fell. All that could be heard was the cry of a loring bird somewhere in the distance, its lonely twining call echoing upriver.

  “Well, thief?” Seevan said. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “My brother—” Theon gasped, a tremor in his voice.

  “Before you go further with your show of disbelieving shock,” Seevan said sarcastically, “would you be so kind as to remove that blanket. I’m most curious about the cargo you carry. Such a mound of goods must have cost you dearly.”

  “What we carry is none of your concern,” Theon said.

  “I am making it my concern. Remove the blanket!”

  It was Gringers who leaned forward and pulled the blanket back, his face cold and impassive.

  Bhaldavin looked up at the five men who stood on the dock. All were dressed much the same, with sleeveless cloth tunics and knee-length pants of supple leather. One wore sandals; the others were barefoot. Three of the men were dark-haired, like Gringers; the other two were blonds. All of them wore headbands to keep their hair out of their eyes.

  One of the dark-haired men squatted down, his black eyes taking in every detail of the captive Ni.

  Bhaldavin recognized Seevan, though he had never seen him; the facial resemblance between nephew and uncle was striking. But the eyes were different. Gringers’s eyes held dark mystery, Seevan’s glared with cold challenge, and the set of the older man’s jaw spoke of a man who was seldom denied.

  “Is he full-blood?” Seevan asked, glancing at Gringers.

  “We believe so,” Gringers replied.

  Seevan stepped down into the boat and straddled Bhaldavin’s legs. “Full-blood,” he murmured, taking a closer look. “Young, fit.” He glanced at Gringers again. “What happened to his arm?”

  “We don’t know,” Gringers answered, resigned now to the fact that Seevan meant to take charge.

  “Can he sing?”

  “Theon says so. But he needs training.”

  Seevan nodded and stood up. “Training we can give him, if we can hold on to him.” He held out a hand, and one of the men on dock helped him up out of the boat.

  Gringers climbed up beside his uncle. “Seevan, does this mean you aren’t going to turn us over to—”

  “And have it known that my nephew is a thief and a murderer?” Seevan beckoned to two of his men. “Get your boat, load it up, and be ready to travel in ten minutes. You’ll take the Ni with you up the Brayen Channel and wait for us on Ander’s Island.”

  “Now who is the thief?” Theon demanded.

  Seevan turned on the small man, eyes blazing. “You will be silent. If you value that worthless hide of yours, you’ll do as I say. You’ll go with the Ni and these men, and so be out of the way when the authorities come down to the wharf in another hour to check our boats. And you”—Seevan glared at Gringers—“you’ll be here to answer any questions put to you. If anyone asks how long you’ve been here, you’ll say three days. Word is being passed among the men, so no one will betray you. I myself will so swear if asked. As for how you make this up to me and the other men, that we will decide later. Agreed?”

  Gringers glanced at Theon, then at Bhaldavin, his lips tight in anger. Finally he nodded. “Agreed.”

  Chapter 7

  THE BRAYEN CHANNEL WAS A WIDE, SHALLOW WATERWAY that wound south by west. An island appeared in the channel late their fourth day out, its white, sandy beaches inviting the weary travelers to stop and rest.

  Theon, who
had chosen to take a turn at the paddles each day rather than face hunger if he did not, was in the bow and was the first out of the boat, splashing into knee-deep water. Ysal and Glar were right behind him and together they pulled the boat up onto the beach.

  Ysal ordered Theon and Glar to take care of the packs, then he turned and untied Bhaldavin and escorted him to the dense stand of rilror pine in the center of the island.

  “Draak ever bother you here?” Theon asked, following Ysal and Bhaldavin down through a wedgelike opening in the trees.

  Ysal shook his head. “The fishing is poor here because of the shallow water, so water draak are seldom seen near the island.”

  “What about land draak?”

  “They don’t like to swim.”

  “They wouldn’t have to. They could wade across without wetting their backs.”

  Ysal turned brown eyes on the small man. “They don’t know that.”

  “You mean they won’t even try?” Theon was surprised.

  “You don’t know much about draak, do you?”

  “I know enough to run when I see one,” Theon replied sharply. “That is all I need to know.”

  Ysal shrugged. “If you stay with us, you’ll learn—or you’ll die.” He turned away. “I’m going to secure the boat. Start a cooking fire while I’m gone, and keep an eye on the Ni. Glar is already gathering wood.”

  Theon growled a curse under his breath, but did as Ysal ordered. After he had a good fire going, he sat down next to Bhaldavin, whose arm was still lashed to his side.

  He looked at Bhaldavin and shook his head. “Living with these men is going to be an experience, one I could do without, I’m sure. And how about you? What do you think of these raftmen, Little Fish?”

  Bhaldavin watched Glar cross the camp with an armload of branches. “I think they may know more about draak than most men.”

  “And?” Theon prompted as he freed Bhaldavin’s arm.

  “And they seem to live by a clan code that closes its ranks for protection when threatened. It is a good trait.”

  “Admiration for the enemy, Bhaldavin?” Theon said softly, smiling.

  When Bhaldavin failed to respond, Theon chuckled and ran the back of his hand gently down Bhaldavin’s cheek.

  Bhaldavin drew away from the man’s caress, causing Theon’s smile to broaden.

  “We are all your enemies, aren’t we, Little Fish? Gringers thinks to tame you to harness as his uncle has tamed the other draak singers, but I think he will fail because there’s too much anger in you. It shows in your eyes, in the set of your mouth. You want your freedom. I can understand that. But life is full of strange twists, and we don’t always get what we want. In the game of life we are no more than what Garv called you—little fish, always swimming against the current.”

  The next few days passed peacefully. Glar and Ysal divided camp duties and left Theon to keep an eye on Bhaldavin. With so much free time, Theon took Bhaldavin on walks around the small island. The draakhide hobbles that Ysal had fashioned and tied at Bhaldavin’s ankles ensured that if Bhaldavin tried to run away, he could be easily overtaken.

  It was midday when Theon and Bhaldavin left the pines and walked down to the rock where Ysal sat watching the river.

  “No sign of the boats yet?” Theon asked.

  “Do you see any?” The contempt in Ysal’s voice matched the look on his face.

  Neither Ysal nor Glar had been friendly since their arrival on the island. Obviously both men had heard something of Theon’s reputation and looked down upon him as an undesirable.

  Theon’s lips tightened in anger. “You’re a haughty bastard, Ysal. One of these days someone is going to have to teach you some better manners.”

  Ysal sneered. “Not you, little man.”

  Theon moved so fast he caught Ysal by surprise. He grabbed the man’s pant leg and pulled him off-balance, so that Ysal fell, striking his head against the rock.

  Theon stepped back, fists clenched and ready to fight; but Ysal lay where he had fallen, his eyes closed.

  Theon swore softly and went to a knee beside the still form. He checked for a pulse at the side of Ysal’s throat, then pulled back one of Ysal’s eyelids.

  Bhaldavin felt a flutter under his rib cage, wondering if Theon had killed the man.

  “He’ll live,” Theon growled, standing. He grabbed Bhaldavin’s arm and steered him away from the fallen man. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

  Bhaldavin glanced back.

  “Never mind him!” Theon said, jerking Bhaldavin’s arm. “He’ll wake up in a little while, and maybe next time he’ll think twice before he opens his big mouth.”

  Theon turned Bhaldavin down the beach, and within minutes they were out of sight. They continued on in silence; the pace Theon set made it difficult for Bhaldavin to keep up. Finally he tripped and fell, pulling Theon up short.

  Theon helped him up. “Sorry, Little Fish. I forgot your hobbles.” He pointed to a good-sized tree standing nearby. “There’s a place to sit over there. Let’s give Ysal a chance to calm down before we go back.”

  “What if he doesn’t calm down?” Bhaldavin asked, curious about what the small man would do. “What if he wants to fight you?”

  Theon shrugged. “If he wants a fight, we’ll fight.”

  “You aren’t afraid of him?”

  “Because he’s bigger?”

  Bhaldavin nodded.

  “I’ve been fighting bigger people all my life, Little Fish, and, believe me, bigger is not always better or faster.” Theon went on to tell Bhaldavin of some of the better fights he’d been in.

  Bhaldavin listened, but felt sure that Theon exaggerated the number of his victories, making his conquests seem much greater than they were; but even if half of what he said was true, Theon was indeed a great fighter.

  While he talked, Theon’s hand slipped to the back of Bhaldavin’s neck, and he began to massage Bhaldavin gently.

  Bhaldavin shrugged out from under that touch and stood up, taking a half step away.

  Theon pushed to his feet a moment later. “Afraid of me, Little Fish?”

  Bhaldavin thought about that for a moment, then shook his head. It was true, he wasn’t afraid—not of this Theon, with his strange, sad smile. It was the angry, hard-eyed Theon that he feared.

  Theon caught Bhaldavin’s arm. “You know, I think it’s time you and I became friends, Little Fish.”

  Bhaldavin frowned. Could a Ni and a man be friends?

  Theon’s eyebrows raised in question. “Well, Little Fish? What do you think?”

  Bhaldavin pulled his arm away and shook his head. “I think no. And my name is not Little Fish!” he said firmly.

  Theon raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know! I know! It’s Bhaldavin. I’ll try to remember.” He grinned as they started back along the beach. “I don’t give up easily, you know. I think that you and I are going to be friends one day—perhaps more than friends, who knows.”

  “What do you mean?” Bhaldavin asked.

  “Never mind. Come on, let’s head back to camp and see if Ysal has stirred.”

  Ysal and Glar were on the beach when Theon and Bhaldavin rounded the point. They were waiting for the boats that were coming up the channel.

  “About time they got here,” Theon said, hurrying Bhaldavin along.

  Theon pointedly ignored Ysal and Glar and waded out into the water to help with the boats as they approached the shore.

  Bhaldavin counted twelve boats, their slim lines cutting the water so smoothly that they created only mild ripples on the calm surface. He saw Seevan in the lead boat; Gringers manned the stern paddle.

  Theon and Bhaldavin stood by as the men splashed ashore, bringing the boats high up onto the beach.

  “We’ll camp here tonight,” Seevan said, his voice carrying above the others. “Gringers, you and your friend gather wood for a watchfire tonight. I don’t want to have to unload all these boats unnecessarily. Ysal, you and Glar and
Beric start something cooking. We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  While Seevan continued giving orders to the other men, Gringers walked over to Theon and Bhaldavin. “Everything all right here?” he asked.

  Theon nodded.

  “And you, Bhaldavin?” Worry shadowed Gringers’s eyes.

  Bhaldavin hesitated, startled by the man’s show of concern. “I’m fine.” Why shouldn’t I be? he wondered.

  Gringers glanced down to the hobbles on Bhaldavin’s feet. “Where did they come from?” he snapped at Theon.

  “Don’t blame me,” Theon answered. “They’re Ysal’s idea.”

  Gringers drew his knife, knelt, and quickly sliced through the draakhide. He tossed the hobbles aside as he stood up. “I don’t want it to be this way between us, Bhaldavin. I’ve been thinking about this all the way from Natrob. We’re going to need your help to—”

  Seevan approached. “Gringers, I thought I told you to gather wood for a watchfire!”

  “It’s early yet,” Gringers said. “Theon and I have time to gather enough wood for two fires!”

  “An excellent idea!” Seevan motioned with his head. “Go on, get started.”

  Gringers stared at his uncle, his angry glance more eloquent than words. “Is that the way it is to be?”

  Seevan nodded. “For now.”

  “All right, Seevan,” he said, keeping his voice even. “Wood for two fires. Come, Bhaldavin, you can help us.”

  Seevan took hold of Bhaldavin’s arm. “No. He’s going with me. I’ve some things I want to ask him.”

  “He doesn’t belong to you, Seevan,” Gringers said darkly.

  “Nor to you or your thief-friend.”

  Seevan glanced meaningfully at Theon, then back to his nephew. “I am leader of the Ardenol clan, Gringers, though you seem to keep forgetting that. And though you are my nephew, you are not above taking orders. You would do well to remember that, or you will find yourself in deep trouble. You would not be the first man to be named renegade.”

  Gringers’s indrawn hiss of anger was like the cry of a young draak. “You wouldn’t dare!”