Free The Transall Saga by Gary Paulsen

fruit trees and fields of bright orange flowers on either side.
    The odor of manure and roasting meat wafted down the path toward them. From behind some rocks on the hillside came a long clear note from a hunting horn. It was answered by another horn farther down the valley.
    A churning cloud of dust sped down the road toward the caravan. The animal that reined up in front of them was a golden color with a well-brushed coat. The rider was a girl with long black braids who was dressed in buckskins like the warriors. She wore beautiful tanned-leather moccasins that reached past her knees.
    Dagon jumped off his mount and ran to greet her. He gave her a bear hug and swung her around. When he put her down she glanced back at the captives. Her eyes fell on Mark. She stared openly the way her father had done.
    "Megaan ... Kakon," Dagon said in a low voice.
    The girl raised her chin haughtily, turned back to her father and smiled. She said something Mark couldn’t make out, then climbed back on her mount and rode next to Dagon to lead the procession into the village.
    From the outskirts Mark could see that the Tsook were far ahead of the arrow people in building design and construction. This was more than a small village, it was a bustling town. Their houses were made of logs that had been fitted together and chinked with mud. And they had high lookout towers at every corner so that they could easily spot approaching enemies in time to warn the people.
    The manure smell had come from the large wooden pens a few hundred yards in front of the buildings. They contained a small herd of tame buffalo creatures.
    A cheer went up as the warriors came closer. The Tsook people stood outside their houses and clapped and yelled as the group passed by.
    The prisoners were led through the maze of fires, cooking pots and houses to the far side of town. The ropes that had held them together were removed and the warriors began pushing the prisoners over the edge of a deep pit.
    Mark looked down. It was at least an eight-foot drop. One of the warriors shoved him forward. He shook the man’s hand off and glanced across the pit. Dagon was on the other side watching him. Mark set his jaw, stepped out and landed on the bottom with the others.
    The arrow people were frightened and huddled together in the middle of the pit. A crowd of Tsook villagers gathered around the top and pointed and stared at the prisoners.
    Mark found a corner and sat down. He was tired and his back ached from carrying Leeta. Yawning, he put his hands behind his head and leaned against the dirt wall. He knew he had done the right thing by staying. Leeta never would have made it without him. But it didn’t make what was happening now any more pleasant.
    Leeta knelt beside him. "Mawk tkan tu."
    "You don’t have to thank me. Anybody would have done the same."
    Above them some sort of trading was going on. Voices were raised and there was arguing. Mark figured the Tsook were trying to decide how they were going to divide the slaves. It didn’t concern him. As soon as he had rested he would be gone. And they wouldn’t be able to catch him either. His plan was to move fast and stay in the brushy country where the mounted men couldn’t go.
    The arguing and trading lasted for hours. Finally, late in the afternoon, everything was settled. Suitable terms had been reached and the new owners came for their property.
    One by one the captives were hauled out of the pit and handed over to their Tsook masters. When it was Leeta’s turn she held on to Mark’s arm and had to be pried loose. The elderly woman who had purchased her prodded her with a sharp stick, forcing her to move away.
    Mark was the only prisoner left in the pit. The crowd had thinned out and the warriors were dividing up the payment.
    Apparently no one wanted him as a slave. That was just as well. Because in the morning they would have realized what a bad trade they’d made when they found him missing.
    "Kakon." A sharp