Beyond the Draak’s Teeth Read online

  Gringers nodded, but glowered at his uncle’s back as the man went to his own boat.

  Theon turned in his seat. “How much longer are we going to put up with that overbearing son of a draak?”

  Gringers shoved off. “There’s nothing we can do at the moment. Until Bhaldavin has learned to sing draak, we have no choice but to obey Seevan as clan leader.”

  “How long will the training take?” Theon asked, guiding the boat past several others.

  “That will depend upon Bhaldavin.”

  Theon turned around and glanced at Bhaldavin. “Then learn quickly, Little Fish, because if I have to spend much more time among Gringers’s kin, I might well be forced to commit murder, perhaps more than one. That Ysal is a—”

  “You’ll keep that temper of yours on a tight rein, my friend,” Gringers warned, “or it is me you’ll be fighting. I won’t let you or anyone else disrupt my plans. Not now! I’ve promised Diak that we’ll go to the Draak’s Teeth this next harvest, and I don’t mean to disappoint him. Have I made myself clear?”

  Theon shook his head in disgust. “Sometimes you sound just like your uncle.”

  “Your word, Theon. I want no fighting.”

  Theon rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “All right, you have my word. But if Ysal starts something—”

  “There’ll be little chance of your running into Ysal once we reach Lake Arden because my raft isn’t tied to the Homeraft any longer.”

  “It’s not? But you’re not far away.” Theon sounded worried.

  “We’re close enough to claim protection if need be, but Diak prefers peace and quiet, and that you can’t find on the Homeraft. Hallon’s staying with him now.”

  “Who’s Hallon?”

  “My second cousin. He’s going along with us.”

  “You trust him?”

  “He’s never given me cause not to.”

  Theon shrugged and started to turn around. Bhaldavin’s smile stopped him. “What are you grinning about?”

  “Seevan’s nose!” Bhaldavin said proudly.

  Theon smiled. “It did seem twice its normal size, didn’t it? I think you really surprised him. The Ni aren’t known to be so aggressive.”

  Bhaldavin’s smile disappeared. “Perhaps it is time that we changed our image,” he said firmly.

  “Perhaps it is,” Theon agreed.

  Chapter 9

  BHALDAVIN LEANED FORWARD, TRYING TO ADJUST HIS position. Six days of being trussed up, hand and foot, had tested him both physically and mentally. Submerging pain and frustration in plans for escape, he watched the riverbanks and studied the undergrowth that promised safety if he could somehow break free.

  The Brayen Channel had grown narrow, the water deeper, and the open marshlands had given way to mounds of land upon which pepperbole and pine flourished.

  Night was approaching. The large pepperbole trees were heavy with veil vine, creating tunnels of darkness where their branches overhung the water.

  Bhaldavin watched a water snake leave the marsh grass at the left bank of the river and swim toward the boat; then, as if deciding such action unwise, it turned downstream and swam back toward the bank. He had seen the raftmen scoop such snakes out of the water with their bare hands. The snakes were venomous, but when cooked properly were both tender and delicious; the rafters made great sport of catching them.

  Word passed back from boat to boat that there was a campsite ahead. Bhaldavin sighed in relief, looking forward to the chance to stand up and stretch his muscles.

  Theon changed his paddle from his right side to his left. Gringers automatically did the opposite without missing a stroke, keeping the boat on a straight course.

  Suddenly a warning cry echoed across the water. “Draak ahead!”

  Bhaldavin sat a bit straighter and tried to look around Theon, who had stopped paddling. Their boat was second to the last in line, and a bend in the river prevented them from seeing any more than three boats ahead.

  “Keep paddling, Theon,” Gringers urged. “Close up!”

  “What about the draak?” Theon asked nervously.

  “Don’t worry about it. Listen!”

  A high-pitched fluting sound drifted back toward them; Bhaldavin realized that Lil-el was singing the draak. He strained to hear each note and trill as memories of lessons that years before he had just begun to learn flitted through his mind. Though some of the song was unfamiliar to him, its warbling notes filled him with a strange urgency to be a part of whatever was happening.

  “Hurry!” he cried.

  Theon glanced over his shoulder. “Hurry? Listen to him, will you?”

  Gringers’s face was lighted with excitement. “He’s a draak singer, Theon. Like calls to like. Come on, paddle!”

  Their boat had passed two in line by the time they reached the bend in the river. The scene that greeted them was one Bhaldavin would never forget.

  Lil-el sat in the middle of Seevan’s boat. Seevan was in the stern, Ysal in the bow. The two men sat calmly, their paddles at rest across the gunwhales, their attention on the large water draak that was head and shoulders out of the water just to the right of their boat. Thankfully it was not one of the Vel-nara, but rather a gray fisher; still, the draak was large enough to upset every boat on the river if angry, its flippered feet and long tail able to create instant waves that would swamp the laden boats in an instant.

  Bhaldavin was mesmerized by Lil-el’s voice, as was the gray fisher, whose only movement was the serpentine swaying of its neck and head.

  Gringers stopped paddling as they came abreast of Seevan’s boat. Theon looked back and saw Gringers make a sign to stop. He shook his head in obvious disagreement and continued to paddle, almost sending the boat smashing into Seevan’s. Gringers quickly compensated by using his paddle as a rudder. His frown of annoyance was lost on Theon, who kept his face forward and continued to paddle, anxious to get out from under the shadow of the draak.

  Bhaldavin had eyes for no one but Lil-el. His lips moved soundlessly to her song; his need to be a part of the taming was an ache that gripped his throat and made his heart pound.

  He twisted around and leaned over the side as their boat drew away, following the other boats to safety upriver. He saw Lil-el lift a hand, signaling Seevan and Ysal, who carefully put their paddles back into the water.

  Lil-el continued to sing as they moved away from the draak. When they were a good twenty boat lengths beyond the large reptile, she stopped singing and for a few moments all that could be heard was the soft splash of paddles dipping in and out of the water.

  Finally the draak shook its head. Released from the mesmerizing music, it turned to look at the departing boats, its red eyes following their progress; then with a loud snuffle, it slipped under the water and resumed its fishing, forgetting the strange logs that had floated by.

  The rafters shortly found a good place to camp. The boats were drawn up out of the water, and soon watchfires blossomed in the semidarkness. While supper was being prepared, Gringers and Lil-el took Bhaldavin for a walk.

  Bhaldavin wanted to talk to Lil-el about singing the draak, but he didn’t know how to start. The flood of excitement that had filled him only a short time ago had begun to ebb, but he could still feel lingering tendrils of the desire that had intoxicated him.

  “Your song was beautiful,” he said in Ni.

  “Lil-el is one of the best, Bhaldavin,” Gringers said. “If I ask him, perhaps Seevan will let her be your teacher. That is, if you still think you would like to learn to sing draak.”

  Bhaldavin saw Gringers’s grin and knew the man was baiting him, but for some strange reason, the teasing didn’t bother him now. He turned to Lil-el, whose attention seemed to be on the narrow trail they were walking.

  “Would you teach me?” he asked shyly.

  She glanced at him. “Surely, but I can’t tell what kind of a draak singer you’ll be until I hear your voice. Do you know any of the draak songs?”

  “I
recognized parts of the one you sang today. My father had just begun to teach me to sing when the war came. I never had a chance to sing a draak until the day Theon and Garv were caught on the trail. I—I wasn’t very successful.”

  “Theon told me you sang it to a standstill,” Gringers said.

  “But I couldn’t hold him.”

  “What song did you use?” Lil-el asked.

  “My father called it ‘Nar-donva. ’”

  Lil-el nodded. “It’s the first song a draak singer learns. Its notes are sung to capture the draak’s attention, but once you have the draak’s ears, you must hold him, and for that we use ‘Vol-nada. ’ There are only seven draak songs, but each has many variations. Much depends upon the type of draak you’re singing and what you want him”—she smiled—“or her to do.”

  “How long would it take you to teach him, Lil-el?” Gringers asked politely.

  Lil-el smiled at Bhaldavin. “Not long, I think, if we can share both our days and evenings together.”

  Bhaldavin felt warmth rush to his face and was glad for the dark shadows.

  “You surprise me, Lil-el!” Gringers laughed.

  Lil-el’s laughter was carefree and held no hint of embarrassment. “You misunderstand me, Gringers—but then you are a man. I am sure Bhaldavin understands what I meant.”

  Bhaldavin peered at Lil-el’s face, trying to read behind her smile.

  “Understands what, Lil-el?” Gringers asked.

  “One must go out and practice both day and night if one wants to learn to sing draak, because not all draak are day hunters.”

  “You’re right, and I’m a fool for having forgotten,” Gringers said. “It’s been so long since anyone has even thought about training a new singer that—”

  Bhaldavin was so intent upon the conversation that he forgot his hobbles and took too long a step. The ground was soft with years of leaves to act as a cushion, so nothing but his pride was injured in the fall.

  Gringers helped him up.

  “Are those hobbles really necessary, Gringers?” Lil-el asked coolly.

  “Seevan seems to think so. I could take them off. I did once before. But Seevan would just have them put back on again when we returned to camp.”

  Gringers tugged on Bhaldavin’s arm. “Come. Let’s go back. Supper should be ready soon, and I’m hungry.”

  The walk back to camp was silent. Bhaldavin was so lost in the gloom of his own thoughts that he failed to see the look of pity on Lil-el’s face.

  As they reached the edge of camp, Gringers stopped Lil-el. “If I can get Seevan’s permission, would you help with Bhaldavin’s training?”

  Bhaldavin looked at Lil-el.

  “It would be my pleasure,” she answered, smiling.

  Angry thoughts forgotten, Bhaldavin’s heartbeat fluttered as Lil-el stepped close and whispered softly to him in Ni.

  “The game of life can be cruel, but only if you let it be. Accept what is and learn to use it to your advantage. Bravery is not always bold and fearless; often it is that inner courage that makes one keep living in the face of disaster. Be brave, my friend, for you are not alone—not now. I’m here, and soon you’ll meet others who will greet you as a lost brother.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him. He stood entranced as she turned and walked away, heading for Rafer’s cooking fire.

  Gringers squeezed his arm. “What did she say to you?”

  “She called me brother.”

  “Brother?” Gangers laughed. “Judging from the kiss she gave you, I think she may see you as more than a brother.”

  “Perhaps,” Bhaldavin agreed.

  Gringers shook his head. “You take your conquests lightly, my friend. Come, it’s time to eat. Then you and I have some things to discuss, like how we are going to convince Seevan to let Lil-el be your teacher.”

  Chapter 10

  BHALDAVIN WATCHED AS THE LAND CHANGED AGAIN. The mounds of bushes and trees that had dotted the river like small islands had disappeared as the Brayen Channel opened out into a watery swampland. The pine and pepperbole trees gave way to huge lingerry trees, their massive gray branches overhung with vine and an endless variety of air plants. Some he recognized, some he didn’t.

  Bhaldavin was curious at first to know how the rafters knew where they were going, for the main channel was no longer visible and the large lingerry trees that stood out of the water made one place look much like another. Then Gringers pointed out a series of marks on the trunks of some of the trees. Once Bhaldavin knew what to look for, he too could pick out the watery route they followed.

  Lil-el used her singing skills many times during the next five days, making it safe for the rafters to paddle through the slow-moving swamp waters. Finally they reached a place where the trees began to thin out.

  “We’re nearing Lake Arden and home,” Gringers announced.

  Theon turned. “News like that deserves celebrating. My arms are numb and my back feels as if I’d slept on a bed of rocks last night. If I had to paddle this damned boat one more day, I swear, I’d mutiny!”

  “That sounds like the Theon I used to know,” Gringers said. “You’ve been so quiet these last few days that I was beginning to wonder if you were ill.”

  “If by ill you mean sick of snakes, bugs, and wet-everywhere-you-look, the answer is yes!”

  “You’ll feel differently once you’re on the raft.”

  “I doubt it.” Theon looked at the line of boats ahead of them. “But I guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “Not if you want to help me find Barl-gan. Of course, you could always turn back. I’m sure Laran would greet you with open arms.”

  “Not funny, Gringers. It would mean my death to return to Fisherman’s Landing.”

  “There are other places, such as Port Cestar.”

  Theon turned and glared at Gringers. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “Why would I do that?” Gringers asked innocently.

  “So you could keep all the treasure for yourself, you big lump of… ” Theon’s words trailed off as the smile on Gringers’s face grew broader. “Fool,” he muttered, as he turned around. “That’s all I’m ever stuck with—fools and idiots!”

  It took several hours to cross the lake where the rafters made their home. There was a small bay on the west side of the lake that was protected by a combination of lingerry trees and manmade mounds of brush and fill.

  As they approached what Gringers referred to as the Homeraft, Bhaldavin’s eyes grew wide in wonder, for never had he seen such a form of community living.

  The rafts were long and tapered at both ends much like boats and were linked so closely together that they formed a continuous wooden platform over the water. Each raft comprised two layers of logs, and wedged in between the upper layer were bundles of reeds that formed a solid footing for the decks. The wooden structures that sat on top of each raft served as family living quarters.

  As the boats drew alongside the Homeraft, the returning rafters were greeting enthusiastically by their families, who had watched them approaching. The swirl of gaily laughing women and children who ran from raft to raft over narrow plank bridges quickly unloaded the bundles of trade goods Seevan had brought; then the boats were commandeered by youngsters, who took them off to be safely secured.

  Bhaldavin lost sight of Lil-el as Gringers untied him and helped him up onto the nearest raft. Several young boys took over the mooring lines as Theon climbed up onto the raft looking anything but happy.

  “I thought we were going to your raft,” he growled, eyeing the busy scene with distaste.

  “Later,” Gringers said. “I want to talk to my uncle Khalil, and I have to introduce Bhaldavin to Nara and Di-nel—and if we stay around long enough, we can share a homecoming supper. You haven’t eaten until you’ve tasted Aunt Reena’s baked eel.”

  Theon grimaced. “I hate eel!”

  “You say that and you a fisherman.” Gringers slapped Theon’s shoulder and pu
shed him aside, drawing Bhaldavin past several curious children who had closed in around them, their large dark eyes taking in every detail of the new Green One in their midst. “I don’t know how you have survived this long in Fisherman’s Landing.”

  “One can get other things to eat,” Theon said, “if one knows where to look. I had a meat supplier who came downriver twice each month. Lord Gabrion has a herd of domestic bomal he’s been raising for a number of years, and my friend has certain contacts that help him procure a few head every once in a while. He has quite a herd of his own now and does a good business up and down the river.”

  “Does Lord Gabrion know where your friend got his start?”

  Theon grinned. “Knowing is not proving.”

  “Such meat must cost dearly.”

  “It does, so I usually make do with nida or forest hen and occasionally a draak steak. The only time I ever ate fish was when I went to see—Garv.”

  Gringers glanced at Theon and quickly changed the subject. “You’ve never met Lil-el’s parents, have you?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like to?”

  Theon shrugged. “Sure.”

  Gringers led Bhaldavin and Theon across several planks linking raft to raft. One of the children who had followed them skipped past Theon and jumped from the plank to the next raft, landing beside Bhaldavin.

  The child pointed to the hobbles at Bhaldavin’s ankles. “Why are you wearing those?” he demanded.

  “You must ask your father that question, Samsel,” Gringers answered. “It’s he who ordered them put on Bhaldavin.”

  Samsel looked up at Bhaldavin. “Is that your name?”

  The boy was young, but already the ring of authority was evident in his voice. Bhaldavin remembered his father telling him that the children of men matured early. “It’s because their life span is so short, only fifty to sixty years at best,” Kion had explained.

  The boy looked at Gringers. “Can’t he talk?”

  “Yes, he can talk,” Gringers replied, “but one can’t expect answers to questions if they are asked impolitely.”