Read Online The Transall Saga by Gary Paulsen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gary Paulsen
Tags: Fiction
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important warrior. And ka meant the second or younger one.
When he questioned her about the blue light, she claimed to know nothing. But Mark noticed that every time he brought it up, she seemed nervous and eager to change the subject.
He was also picking up a few phrases from the Tsook. Their language was easier than Leeta’s because he could hear distinct vowels. He understood when the leader, Dagon, gave orders to stop and go, or for his men to feed the prisoners or take care of the mounts.
Mark swallowed dryly as he watched Leeta and the others gobble up the raw meat. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t eat it. He often did when he couldn’t find insects or edible plants along the trail. Sometimes he took a small portion just to keep himself from starving. But it rankled him to be treated this way and by now he was used to going without food. When he had broken his ribs he had conditioned himself to eat only when it was absolutely necessary. So it wasn’t hard to let the others have the meat.
Dagon always watched Mark carefully. At feeding time he would stand near him, staring openly as if he was inspecting a novelty in a sideshow. It made Mark feel uneasy, though he understood he was different from the arrow people and that his skin was lighter and he was taller than the Tsook. Even his clothes were unusual. He’d outgrown his jeans and was now wearing pieces of them he’d wrapped around himself.
Once, Dagon pointed to the hiking boot Mark kept tied to his belt and used the word Merkon.
"Not Merkon," Mark said flatly. "I am called Kakon."
Dagon’s second in command, a surly bearded man called Sarbo, angrily drew his sword and threatened to drive it into Mark’s chest for daring to speak to the leader. Dagon stopped him.
That had been more than a week before. Now they were resting at the foot of the very mountains Mark had promised himself to visit someday. He only wished he had come here under different circumstances.
Dagon was studying him again. Mark ignored the man and turned to Leeta. "How long till we reach the land of the Tsook?"
Leeta glanced up at the mountain. "Go over." She held up three fingers. "Tkas."
"Three days?" Mark chewed his lip. "Then what?"
"Nah kirst ma." She held up a wrist that was tied with rope. "Tsook war to take workers."
"I noticed your people weren’t exactly against making war."
Leeta shrugged and took another bite. "Way much people."
Dagon gave the order to break camp. The arrow people quickly stood and formed a straight line. The men no longer put a rope around Mark’s neck. Either they thought it would be too hard for him to escape while tied to the others or they knew he would never be able to outrun their animals.
The thought of escape had crossed Mark’s mind more than once. The Tsook had not bothered to check the contents of his boot, so he still had his pocketknife, which would easily cut through the rope. But so far he hadn’t had a good chance to use it. By day the Tsook watched them carefully and at night a guard was posted.
As they climbed higher up the mountain the terrain became rocky and the air difficult to breathe. The arrow people were used to flat, humid land and they were having a hard time keeping up with the animals.
Leeta cried out and Mark felt an abrupt tug on the rope. He glanced back. Leeta had stepped on a sharp rock and sliced the bottom of her foot.
The riders immediately closed ranks. Leeta bit her lip, looked straight ahead and kept moving.
Mark could see blood on the side of her foot. "Is it bad?" he whispered.
"Bad, yes."
Mark slowed the pace as much as he dared. Soon Leeta was hobbling and the line was barely moving.
Sarbo stepped off his mount and drew his sword. Mark knew what was about to happen. The Tsook would kill her, throw her body to the side and go on without a second thought.
The yellow-skinned man moved to the front of the line. He cut the ropes that connected Leeta to Mark and the person behind her.
Leeta closed
When he questioned her about the blue light, she claimed to know nothing. But Mark noticed that every time he brought it up, she seemed nervous and eager to change the subject.
He was also picking up a few phrases from the Tsook. Their language was easier than Leeta’s because he could hear distinct vowels. He understood when the leader, Dagon, gave orders to stop and go, or for his men to feed the prisoners or take care of the mounts.
Mark swallowed dryly as he watched Leeta and the others gobble up the raw meat. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t eat it. He often did when he couldn’t find insects or edible plants along the trail. Sometimes he took a small portion just to keep himself from starving. But it rankled him to be treated this way and by now he was used to going without food. When he had broken his ribs he had conditioned himself to eat only when it was absolutely necessary. So it wasn’t hard to let the others have the meat.
Dagon always watched Mark carefully. At feeding time he would stand near him, staring openly as if he was inspecting a novelty in a sideshow. It made Mark feel uneasy, though he understood he was different from the arrow people and that his skin was lighter and he was taller than the Tsook. Even his clothes were unusual. He’d outgrown his jeans and was now wearing pieces of them he’d wrapped around himself.
Once, Dagon pointed to the hiking boot Mark kept tied to his belt and used the word Merkon.
"Not Merkon," Mark said flatly. "I am called Kakon."
Dagon’s second in command, a surly bearded man called Sarbo, angrily drew his sword and threatened to drive it into Mark’s chest for daring to speak to the leader. Dagon stopped him.
That had been more than a week before. Now they were resting at the foot of the very mountains Mark had promised himself to visit someday. He only wished he had come here under different circumstances.
Dagon was studying him again. Mark ignored the man and turned to Leeta. "How long till we reach the land of the Tsook?"
Leeta glanced up at the mountain. "Go over." She held up three fingers. "Tkas."
"Three days?" Mark chewed his lip. "Then what?"
"Nah kirst ma." She held up a wrist that was tied with rope. "Tsook war to take workers."
"I noticed your people weren’t exactly against making war."
Leeta shrugged and took another bite. "Way much people."
Dagon gave the order to break camp. The arrow people quickly stood and formed a straight line. The men no longer put a rope around Mark’s neck. Either they thought it would be too hard for him to escape while tied to the others or they knew he would never be able to outrun their animals.
The thought of escape had crossed Mark’s mind more than once. The Tsook had not bothered to check the contents of his boot, so he still had his pocketknife, which would easily cut through the rope. But so far he hadn’t had a good chance to use it. By day the Tsook watched them carefully and at night a guard was posted.
As they climbed higher up the mountain the terrain became rocky and the air difficult to breathe. The arrow people were used to flat, humid land and they were having a hard time keeping up with the animals.
Leeta cried out and Mark felt an abrupt tug on the rope. He glanced back. Leeta had stepped on a sharp rock and sliced the bottom of her foot.
The riders immediately closed ranks. Leeta bit her lip, looked straight ahead and kept moving.
Mark could see blood on the side of her foot. "Is it bad?" he whispered.
"Bad, yes."
Mark slowed the pace as much as he dared. Soon Leeta was hobbling and the line was barely moving.
Sarbo stepped off his mount and drew his sword. Mark knew what was about to happen. The Tsook would kill her, throw her body to the side and go on without a second thought.
The yellow-skinned man moved to the front of the line. He cut the ropes that connected Leeta to Mark and the person behind her.
Leeta closed
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