Dragon Clan: In The Beginning

CHAPTER TWO

Seth sprinted alongside the bank of the river where there was less underbrush to slow him. The thief hadn’t taken the canoe upriver, or Seth would have seen him when he crossed it. Downriver would take the canoe out into the salt water where the thief could paddle his way to deep water and escape. Seth’s lungs already protested, but he continued running. Leaping over a bush, he spotted a darker smudge floating on the surface of the water.

Instantly, Seth turned away from the river bank, and when enough shrubbery concealed him from the canoe, he raced ahead, seeing it flash by briefly through spaces in the trees. The pain in his chest from running hard hurt no longer, or if it did, he ignored it in the excitement. Just before the canoe reached the salt water, he reached the edge of the river and crouched behind tall shrubs.

The canoe floated into sight. He could plainly see a single occupant. When it was almost to him, Seth leaped out from concealment, splashed three steps in knee-deep water to stand in front of the canoe, blocking its progress with his legs. His bow was already pulled, the arrow aimed at the chest of the paddler. Seth waited.

He had acted so fast the person in the canoe didn’t pause before another stroke When he did, he stared at the sharp flint point on Seth’s arrow. The current drifted the canoe ahead until it bumped against Seth’s knees. The passenger hadn’t moved, probably thinking he was soon to be dead. Stealing a canoe and getting caught was a death sentence in any village or community.

“Get out of my canoe. Now.”

The figure placed a leg over the side and slowly climbed out until he was standing in the water. It was a man, smaller than himself, his back hunched. He waited as if sizing Seth up before speaking.

In the distance and growing in intensity, were people shouting and crashing through the forest, following Seth’s trail. The flicker of at least two torches shone through the trees and underbrush. They were following his tracks by torchlight instead of waiting for sunup.

The Canoe Thief said quickly, “Son, you have a choice to make. We can stand here and wait for your friends to arrive.” He motioned with a flick of an arm to the torches which were drawing closer with every breath. “In which case, the two of us will probably die tonight. Or, you can take the canoe and paddle off, leaving me to face them. We both know they’ll kill me because they’ll think I helped you. Or a third choice.”

“Which is?”

“We both get in the canoe and escape. Then we decide what to do. I have to admit I prefer the third choice.”

Seth watched Madoc splash across the river upstream like a man doing a crazy water-dance, a war ax waving above his head. His whoop of joy said he’d found the items Seth had dropped. Madoc must have also found the footprints Seth had left as he chased after the canoe. His head twisted in Seth’s direction and another war-cry sounded as he crashed through the underbrush running in their direction.

The combined humor and anxiety contained in the canoe thief’s last statement about preferring the third choice, persuaded Seth. He said, “Get in, fast. I’ll push us off.”

The man nimbly climbed inside the stern of the canoe, grabbed the paddle, and used his free hand to help pull Seth into the canoe, which was already slowly drifting further down the mouth of the river with the current. The man stabbed the paddle into the water, and the canoe lurched ahead with his powerful strokes.

Madoc spotted them from the bank and shouted for the others to run faster and join him. The torches behind Madoc changed direction and raced directly at the canoe.

Seth knelt in the bottom and watched behind. There was only one paddle, but he felt like using his hands as paddles to make the canoe move even faster as Madoc drew closer. However, the man in the back of the canoe was already paddling fast, the canoe surging ahead with every stroke, but still the warrior running behind was catching up, and so were others of the family. An arrow splashed into the water to one side, and then one of Madoc’s spears fell short. Seth fleetingly wanted to go back and retrieve the spear. He changed his mind as he looked at the gathering family of angry people standing knee-deep in the water near the shore where it became deeper, and the waves rolled ashore.

The canoe finally entered the deeper water, striking the incoming waves with the bow so hard that water poured in as each wave rolled past. Seth felt the water deepening in the canoe bottom and knew that if it sank the family would have no mercy when he swam ashore.

The stern of the canoe sat lower than the bow. The man paddling called, “Move back here and bail!”

The shift allowed the front of the canoe to ride higher as it struck the waves. Seth didn’t recognize the word bail, but understood the meaning. The water inside was growing deeper than ever. It covered his knees as he knelt to scoop water out with his hands. How much more water could it take before sinking? He had nothing with which to bail the water out. Frantically he looked around as he splashed another few handfuls out. The canoe struck another wave, and more water poured in over the front. The water inside was deep enough that the canoe was beginning to feel sluggish in its movements.

His bare hands would never keep up with the growing amount of water coming with each wave. He stripped his shirt off and sank it into the water, soaking up some water that he squeezed out over the side. It worked better than his bare hands but not by much. Seth saw the man paddling, cast a fearful glance back at the shoreline before paddling harder. Another arrow splashed closer to them. With the wallowing boat, his paddling efforts were canceled by the incoming waves.

Seth needed to increase the amount of water he gathered with each scoop to keep even with the water rushing into the boat, let alone gain on it. An idea formed. He placed his arms back into the sleeves of his shirt but kept the body of the shirt flat, in front of him instead of over his head. He sank the shirt into the water and lifted quickly. Water spilled outside, probably as much as all of his other efforts combined. He repeated the action, figuring out how to effectively scoop more each time until he had removed nearly all the water.

The canoe picked up speed as the weight of the water decreased. It rode higher in the water, and suddenly it passed beyond the breaking waves and traveled into calmer water. Seth looked back. At least three of the family had chased the canoe into the deeper water and were now swimming back to the beach in frustration. If only one of them had reached the canoe, he would have easily rolled it over.

“That was a good job you did back there,” the man’s voice rattled, followed by a fit of coughing. “Quick thinking too.”

Seth didn’t answer. He drew in long, deep gasps of cold air into his lungs and allowed the fear to depart slowly. He looked behind so many times his neck hurt before he reached down with his shirt and used it to soak up the last of the water. Then he wrung it out and repeated the process until the bottom was almost dry.

The shoreline was now off to his right, lost in darkness. The man in the rear paddled with a steady, effortless rhythm that he could probably maintain for half the night. The soft ocean breeze struck from the left side, trying to push them closer to shore, so the canoe was pointed slightly out to sea to counter it.

The man said, “You made the right choice in taking me with you, as far as I’m concerned.”

“You tried to steal my canoe,” Seth accused him, blaming him for their near capture.

“I could be wrong, but I think there may be two canoe thieves in this boat.” The voice was soft, raspy, and held more than a trace of humor.

Seth remembered all the hides, scrapers, and the food that he’d stolen and left behind to chase the canoe. “Because of you, I left my supplies and food back there.”

It was quiet while the man paddled steadily, without pause, until he said, “If not for me, you wouldn’t have had the chance to escape. You’d be running away on land, and you still would have left your supplies and food—which I also suspect were not yours. Those people back there would have caught up with you sooner or later, you know.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“You’re right, I guess. Do you want to paddle for a while?”

Seth accepted the paddle wordlessly. He tried to duplicate the skill with which the other paddled and failed. He’d never been in a canoe before yesterday. Even then, he’d only paddled a short way, but he’d observed and believed he knew how to do it. He wanted to impress the old man. His strokes were long and powerful.

The voice from behind said, “There’s no place we have to be in a hurry. You might as well slow down, or your shoulders are going to be painful before long.”

Seth’s shoulders were already hurting, but slowing would mean admitting the man was right. Besides, Seth still had to decide what to do with him. His eyes fell to the arrows and bow floating in salt water in the bottom of the boat. Wet, the bowstring would stretch, and the bow would lose power. The bowstring might dry stiff, or it might become brittle and break. He paused and lifted the arrows to a dry spot near the front of the canoe. The fletching peeled off both. He stood the bow against one side and started paddling again.

He said, “My name’s Seth.”

“I’m glad you introduced yourself. I was wondering if you were going to use your bow to shoot me.”

Seth heard the humor in the voice again, as well as a warning in the tone. He said, “The bow and arrows are too wet, even if I wanted. You never gave me your name.”

“Too bad about the arrows. This night is full of unfortunate events. My name,” a pause began that lasted so long Seth wondered if the man had forgotten the question, “Is Dawn.”

“Dawn? I don’t believe you. You waited too long before telling it to me.”

“That’s because I wore another name yesterday. Tomorrow it may be something else, or I may keep Dawn for a while.”

“Why?”

After a short pause, he spoke confidentially, as if they were old friends, “Yesterday was the end of my old life, much like yours. This venture in our canoe is the beginning of a new day, a new life. A dawn, of sorts, if you get the meaning. That’s why I chose Dawn for my name.”

Seth had never heard of such a thing. “You just pick a new name whenever you want? And it is not our canoe. It is mine.”

“What’s to stop me from changing it? Do you like your name, Seth, or would another suit you better?”

“Seth has always been my name.”

A chuckle floated to him from the back of the canoe. Then the voice crackled with humor as it said, “Will it always be Seth?”

It was not a question to be answered tonight. How could Seth know the future? Until this night, he’d never even considered a name change, or known it was possible. He paddled and watched the stars and kept the sound of the waves crashing on the beach on his right. He didn’t dare go ashore. Not yet. Maybe not even tomorrow. Modoc scared him.

Seth’s shoulders ached. The shadowy figure kneeling behind him touched his shoulder and held out his hand for the paddle. Seth managed to get a glimpse of him in the starlight. Instead of the dark silhouette he’d been seeing, he found a face to go with the voice.

It was a man, of course. But an old one, as suspected. His hair was as white as his beard. The hair hung down to his shoulders, parted in the middle. The face was wrinkled more than any face Seth had ever seen. It was as if the man’s skin was deformed. The hunched over back was not from being tired, but from age, and more. He gave the impression his life contained hard physical work.

Seth turned around in the canoe and settled down to watch him. The old man had already paddled most of the way and never seemed to tire. Seth’s father and mother had also been old, but not like this man. They had six children in all. All of them were either grown and moved away or dead. As the youngest child, he had been used to living with old people, but nothing about them was like the strange man in the canoe.

“Dawn, what will your name be when the sun comes up, that is, if you decide to change it again?” Seth asked.

“At my age, I’m just happy to see the sun come up one more time. Maybe you can help me decide on a good name, but I warn you that I won’t just accept any old name. It has to be special.”

“Well, mine has always been Seth, and that’s how I’m leaving it.”

Dawn paddled a few more strokes, straightened the canoe by shifting his weight, so it rode more smoothly, and said, “That makes a lot of sense to me. A name can be something to be proud of.”

“But you change yours every time you turn around.”

A chuckle, followed by another fit of coughing filled the air. “Perhaps I have simply not found the right name yet. Now I have another question for you. Is the way I name myself the most important subject you can think of for us to discuss this night, considering our circumstances?”

Seth decided Dawn may as well call himself ‘Dark’ since he couldn’t see him well in the dim light. But he kept the thought to himself because Dawn would probably find something critical or funny about his observation. He might even change his name again, and Dark seemed worse than Dawn. Still, the old man was right to ask about other subjects. Mistakes could cost him his life. Stealing a canoe and getting caught could do the same.

Despite the old man, the basic problems remained. Food, warmth, shelter, and surviving a winter grew in proportion as he found his mind continued to drift back to a name. Why should he care what a man called himself when Seth faced far worse problems? He decided to try and keep any conversation centered on important matters, but he still seethed inside.

Seth waited and considered the next topic before he said, “I have a question for you. Do you think you will live until the sun rises if you continue to treat me this disrespectful way?”

Dawn faced the front of the canoe paddling, with Seth kneeling in the bottom right in front of him. Dawn still looked off in the direction they traveled and in a calm voice said, “We must both survive this night. But what will we do after the sun rises, assuming I am alive? What will you do? Have you any plans, Seth?”

“Have you about run out of answers old man? For a prisoner, you do a lot of talking.”

“Oh, so now I am a prisoner? Or a slave? Thank you for telling me. It’s good to know your lot in life.”

Seth bailed water while thinking. He would need grease to seal the canoe sooner than he had previously thought. A little water usually leaked past the seams, but this was more than he expected. He ignored the humor in the tone and said, “Maybe you’re not a prisoner, but I have to think about winter coming fast and how to find enough food. Unless you can provide for yourself, I may have to leave you and take my canoe.”

“Look at my face, Seth. I have survived many winters. Some while living on my own and others with friends. I know things. Making it through a winter is one of them. You might want to keep me as your slave a little longer so I can serve you.”

“I’ve never owned a slave.”

Dawn paddled a few more strokes and said as he shrugged, “It’s easy. You tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. That’s the relationship between a master and slave.”

Seth scooped water from the bottom of the canoe. He felt like he was the victim of another of Dawn’s jokes, but had no idea how. The man offering to be a slave was too forthcoming. He was also too funny, or at least, thought he was. The humor seldom left his voice, but Seth hadn’t laughed yet.

“What else is involved with you being my slave?”

“That,” the old man said, his voice sounding conspiratorial, “is the best part. The owner of a slave must provide him with a place to live and food to eat.”

Seth clamped his mouth shut. It had sounded nice to own a slave, but he couldn’t even provide for himself, let alone another. Finally, he said, “I have decided you’re not a slave. You have to provide half the food and help me with a shelter.”

“Well, that’s disappointing. Then I certainly hope you at least intend to keep me as your prisoner.”

“Why would you want that?”

“Slaves help with gathering the food and making a shelter, but prisoners have it all provided for them, and they have to do nothing but sit around and let others provide for them. I’d like being your prisoner, I think.”

Seth realized the old man was twisting words and taking advantage of him, but saw no way out of the situation, but one. “You are not my slave or prisoner. That is how it will be.”

“Then, are we friends?”

“No, not yet. You talk too quick and make my words into things they’re not. Let me think about it until dawn,” Seth said. He set his jaw in determination.

“Huh?”

“Huh, what? What are you asking?

A chuckle followed. “Think. You said, until dawn. I thought you were talking to me when you used my name,” the old man said, his voice still conveying humor.

Seth checked the water ahead, the flat sea to the left, and the land a shadowy darkness to his right. The breeze smelled fresh, the night was chilly, but not cold, and he had successfully escaped the Salt People. He escaped in a canoe he called his own, so when all was considered, the day had been productive, even if he still felt the tang of anger at leaving the other supplies. But if questioned, Seth would admit he was better off today than yesterday, and far better off than the day before.

He ignored the trace of water seeping into the boat while he thought and planned. It seemed less water seeped in now than earlier, so maybe the skins had swelled enough to seal the water out. But he not only had possession of the canoe, he had the old man as a resource. Dawn hadn’t reached his advanced age without skills or knowledge. Since Dawn had forced him to leave his belongings, he should replace them in some manner; that was only fair. Teaching Seth how to locate food would be a good trade.

He liked the idea. But the old man seemed to twist and turn everything he said, and worse, he enjoyed it and laughed. Seth decided he needed to fight back. “Dawn? That’s the worst name, ever.”

Dawn paddled a few sedate strokes as if he hadn’t heard, and then said in a reasonable voice, “No, there are other names that are worse in my humble opinion. Lookout!”

Seth ducked and spun, searching for the danger while protecting his head with his arms.

Dawn said calmly, “That name is worse than Dawn, for sure. Lookout! Or Duck! Then other names tell too much about a person. Names like Liar, or Stinks-Like-My-Underarms-Smell. I wouldn’t want any of those names.”

Despite still recovering from the scare of Lookout! Seth found himself laughing along with the old man. There were worse names after all. He said, hoping to change the subject, “Are you paddling to get us away from those people back there? Or to take us somewhere?”

“I confess there’s a destination I have in my mind and my time is critical.”

Seth hadn’t expected a truthful, direct response. “When were you going to tell me that?”

“I wasn’t,” Dawn said in the same droll tone.

“It’s my canoe, and I should say where we go.”

“You’re right. It is your canoe. We can turn to go where you wish, or we can go to a place where there is warmth, food, shelter, and supplies enough to survive the winter. Your choice. It is your canoe, after all.”

Seth mumbled, “I should have made you my slave.”

“Oh, you still can. I’m willing,” the softer voice returned, then the night air filled with the soft laughter of one person sharing a joke with himself.

Seth pouted and wondered if the canoe would reach land with both of them alive.