All of them were armed with a museum’s worth of daggers, spears, lances, and swords in scabbards that ranged from simple oxhide to bejeweled masterpieces of the scabbarding art.
Their horses were big, shaggy beasts, often also festooned and bejeweled and spangled. The horses, too, had bright, alert, slightly crazy eyes.
“Those boys,” Stefan said, offering his professional appraisal, “are trouble.”
Almost lost within the scary crew was a reed-thin old man all in green. But you couldn’t overlook the person clearly in charge, out in front astride the finest horse: Valin.
Valin looked like he was born on a horse. Maybe he was.
“Welcome, Mack!” Valin cried.
Then Valin drew his sword and yelled an order. The order he yelled was, “Seize them!”
Eight
This next part is a bit disturbing. If you are squeamish, maybe you should just skip this chapter. We’re about to learn, finally, why Valin hated Mack and what the big issue was between them. And it involves some mild violence, but worse, young love. And worse still, a clown.
But we’re not quite there yet. First we have a sudden charge by a dozen armed horsemen brandishing swords and pointing spears. The speed of the attack was such that Xiao hesitated between casting a Vargran spell and changing back to dragon and ended up doing nothing but emitting a frustrated “Oh!” before spears were all up in their faces.
“I have you now!” Valin cried. Then, looking disappointed, he said, “Where is my half sister? Where is Sylvie?”
“Okay, Valin, it’s time to have this out!” Mack said.
“Indeed it is! Men: if the girl begins to change, stick a spear in her. And look out for the blond one: he’s dangerous.”
Stefan was very pleased to be described as dangerous. Although even he was feeling less than formidable with a spear point pressing into his back and a sword blade at his throat.
“Yemak, Ivan, Stenka, bind them tightly and watch them closely, spears at their throats at all times,” Valin ordered. He was totally in charge. Then as the horsemen were tying Xiao and Stefan, Valin cautioned, “Don’t any of you fools get drunk. The man who allows them to escape will deal with my Brembles.”
At this point Mack had no idea what a Bremble was, but he saw the very respectful looks on the faces of these tough guys, and that convinced him that Brembles were not something to be taken lightly.
Mack was snatched up by powerful hands and settled onto the saddle of a horse. A rough rope went around his wrists, a rag was stuffed in his mouth, and suddenly he was racing through the woods as thin branches whipped his face. It was all very exciting in a way. The hoofbeats were a dull thunder; the landscape flashed by; the saddle pounded his butt; a chill breeze froze his wet, bare feet.
Exciting, uncomfortable, and scary. Three things that often go together.
Paddy “Nine Iron” Trout looked extremely uncomfortable. Horseback riding can jar your bones and bruise your butt, and Nine Iron had very old bones and a meatless butt. Also, frankly, he looked ridiculous on a horse.
It occurred to Mack that this would be a good time to lay on some Vargran, if he could get the rag out of his mouth. But he was trying to figure Valin out, trying to bring him over to the
side of good and truth and justice and all of that stuff, not destroy him. He needed Valin. The whole world needed Valin.
They rode for an hour through sparse forest and across a number of shallow streams. At last they came upon a circle of tents. The tents were not colorful nylon or even dull canvas. They were large, round, lumpy things made of some kind of skin. Mack hoped it was cowhides and not human skin. Because that would have been disturbing.
One tent was larger than the rest, and Valin, with six of the big, hairy guys, marched Mack, Xiao, and Stefan into that tent.
It smelled of fire, burned meat, and sweat. That last element was supplied by a very large man with a very large mustache. He was naked to the waist and chewing on what might have been a leg of lamb.
Valin spoke some words to the man and pushed Mack to his knees.
“This is Taras Bulba,” Valin said to Mack. “He’s an up-and-comer with the Cossacks.”
“Mhhrr hmm hnn hnh,” Mack said. Because he still had a rag in his mouth.
Valin drew his dagger and placed it against Mack’s neck. “One word of Vargran and I cut your throat.” He pulled the rag from Mack’s mouth.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Blubba.”
“Bulba,” Valin hissed. “Taras Bulba. He and his Cossacks are here to participate in the coming battle between Mukhlis Khan and Guru Hargobind.”