D. MacHale - The Merchant of Death

“How can he be a Traveler? He is just a boy!” Loor said to her mother vehemently. “He is soft and frightened. He will do more harm than good.”

Wow. How’s that for an ego pounding? Ouch. Unfortunately though, she was right. Iwas soft and frightened. Maybe I wasn’t a Traveler after all. Frankly, it wouldn’t kill me to find out I wasn’t, no matter how much it would have helped my Spanish grades. I was beginning to think that maybe this was all some big mistake and they would send me home.

Osa looked at me with those dark, knowing eyes, but spoke to Loor saying, “No, Pendragon is a Traveler. But he has much to learn.” Then she looked at her daughter and said, “And you seem to forget that you are but a child yourself.”

Loor stormed off in a huff. I got the feeling she didn’t like being told she was wrong. Osa turned to me and said, “You will find that she is not always so angry.”

“Hey, no big deal,” I shot back. “Just so long as she isn’t angry at me!”

Osa smiled and walked on. I followed, and she began to tell me about Denduron.

“The people who live in this village are a tribe called the Milago,” she began. “As you can see they live a simple life. They grow all of their own food and live peacefully with the other tribes of Denduron.”

Milago. Uncle Press had used that word just before those knights showed up. He said they’d find me, so I guess they are the good guys.

“What about those knight-looking guys who attacked Uncle Press?” I asked. “Are they Milago too?”

“No,” answered Osa. “That is what I want to show you.”

We continued walking out of the village and along a path in the woods for about a quarter of a mile. (I judge all distances by the track at Stony Brook High. It’s a quarter of a mile around, and it felt like we walked about the distance of that track.) We broke out of the woods into a clearing and I was yet again hit with an amazing sight. Remember how I said the only thing missing from this medieval village was a big old castle looming over it? Well, as it turns out there was a big old castle, it just wasn’t doing any looming.

Here’s what I saw: When we emerged from the path through the trees, we came upon a huge, open field of grass. We walked across this rolling field until we came to a cliff on the far side. Down below the cliff was water. Yes, we were at the edge of an ocean as vast and as blue as the Atlantic. The sea was to my right, and I turned to look down the coast-an uneven, craggy shoreline with big, rocky cliffs. I saw that the cliff we were on was actually one side of an inlet. Looking down over the edge, I saw wave after wave of seawater crashing on the rocks below. Far below. We were so high above the water I started getting sweaty palms. I’m not good with heights. I looked up and straight ahead to the cliff on the far side of the inlet to see that the land on top was covered with more lush sea grass that waved in the ocean breeze. Then what I sawbelow that grass took my breath away.

Built right into the face of the cliff was a monster fortress. It looked as if it were literally carved out of the rock that made up the bluff. I could see several levels of stone balconies where knights like the ones who attacked Uncle Press were keeping guard. They marched back and forth with lethal-looking spears over their shoulders. I’m not exactly sure what they were guarding against. Marauding fish, I suppose.

I counted five levels of balconies, so this fortress was big. Osa must have read my mind because she said, “You are only seeing the outside wall of the palace. It is built far into the cliff. It is a village in itself.”

From what I saw so far, these people didn’t have any heavy-duty construction equipment, so this place was chiseled out of the rock by hand. It must have taken centuries to dig such a huge building out of hard rock using simple tools.

“There have always been two tribes here,” she continued. “The Milago work the land, the Bedoowan are the soldiers and rulers. At one time many of the tribes of Denduron were at war. The Bedoowan protected the Milago from marauders, and in return the Milago provided food. Each tribe relied upon the other, while they remained very much apart. It lasted that way for centuries, with both tribes living in relative harmony. But the Bedoowan were powerful and power can lead to arrogance. It was forbidden for a Milago to marry a Bedoowan, or even to become friends. As so often happens in situations like this, the Bedoowan began to look upon the Milago as their slaves.”

“But still, they protect the Milago, right?” I asked.

“There have not been invaders here for many years. The need for protection no longer exists,” said Osa.

“So the Milago guys still do all the work and the Bedoowan guys do…what?”

“That is a good question. The Bedoowan are ruled by a royal family, with the role of monarch passed down to the eldest child. There was a time, not too long ago, that the Bedoowan monarch wanted to break down the barriers between the two tribes and allow them to become one. But he died and left the monarchy to his firstborn. There are some who believe that the father was murdered by those who did not want the Bedoowan to give up their superior position.”

“And let me guess: The new monarch likes having slaves and wants to keep the two tribes apart,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “The Milago are afraid to even say the name…Kagan.”

There was that name again. I was beginning to get the picture, and I didn’t like it.

“The knights who attacked Uncle Press thought he was spying on Kagan,” I said. “But Uncle Press pretended that he was a miner. Are there mines here?”

“Yes,” she said with a sad breath. “That is the worst part of the story.”

Oh great, it gets worse. Just what I wanted to hear. But before Osa could continue, I heard the sound of a far-off drum. It was a steady, booming sound that came from the direction of the Milago village.

Loor ran up to us and said breathlessly, “It is the Transfer. Hurry.” She took off, running back the way we came.

Osa looked at me and said with concern, “Stay close to me. Do not let them see you.” With that she took off after Loor.

As I told you, these two were athletes. But I didn’t care how fast they were, I was going to keep up with them. I caught up and kept right on Osa’s tail as we beat feet along the path back to the Milago village. Good thing it was only about a half mile away, or I would have bonked for sure.

As we approached the village, I saw that everyone was gathering toward the central area with the stage in the middle. I guessed there was going to be a show after all. People came in from the fields, emptied from their huts, and generally left whatever they were doing to crowd around the platform.

I was all set to join the crowd when Osa grabbed my hand and pulled me in another direction. The three of us climbed on top of one of the stone huts and positioned ourselves on the roof so we could get a good view of the show.

“They must not see us,” cautioned Osa. “We are not a part of this.”

Whatever. No biggie. We had the best view in the house anyway. So I settled in and wondered what the performance was going to be. Maybe some Milago musicians, or some school play thing.

I looked out on the meeting ground, and saw the Milago villagers gathered in a wide circle around the central platform, which wasn’t empty anymore. On top of it was some kind of contraption that looked like a seesaw. On one end was a seat, on the other was a big, wide-mouthed basket. Standing on the platform next to the gizmo was one of Kagan’s knights, beating on a drum. I hoped the purpose of this guy was to signal for everyone to gather, because if this was the whole show, I wasn’t impressed. The deep booming sound echoed across the village. His rhythm was pretty lousy too. Standing next to the platform were six more knights. They stood at attention, each holding a nasty-looking spear in front of them. The Milago villagers gave these guys a wide berth. I would have too. They didn’t look friendly.