Savage Games of Lord Zarak (2 page)

After they had finished eating the hamburgers and cookies, they started the volleyball game again. Nobody was really eager to have Roland Winters on their team. So he just joined in.

He wound up standing next to Sarah.

“You just set 'em up,” Roland said, “and I'll knock that ball right down their throats, Sarah baby!”

“I'm not a baby!”

“Aw, come on. You almost are. How old are you anyway? Twelve?”

Sarah was so furious that she could scarcely see. She refused to answer, and the game went on.

It soon became clear to her that the annoying Roland Winters had great athletic ability. He could leap higher in the air than any of them. And when he struck the ball, the sound exploded like an artillery shell. He laughed every time he drove the ball past the opponents, which he did often.

Even so, perhaps all would have been well, but then Wash lobbed the volleyball just over the net. Roland leaped high in the air and returned it with all of his strength. The ball was nothing but a blur. It struck Wash on the forehead and knocked him down. He lay flat in the sand for a minute, unable to get up.

Sarah guessed what was going to happen next. Reb Jackson had a rather quick temper, and he had become best friends with Wash. She could see the anger flare up in Reb's face.

He ducked under the net and walked straight to Roland Winters. Without hesitation, he put a hand on the stranger's chest and gave him a shove backward.

“You didn't have to do that!” he said, his eyes blazing. “It's just a game!”

Roland did not hesitate, either. He moved so quickly that Reb had no chance to stop the blow. It caught him high on the cheekbone and knocked him down.

As Reb struggled to his feet, Dave, the largest of the Seven Sleepers—almost as tall as Roland but not nearly so heavy—came over. His face was flushed. “We don't need any bullies around here, Winters! If you're going to pick on somebody, pick on me!”

Roland did not say a word but struck out again. His fist caught Dave in the mouth, and, although Dave did not fall, he staggered backward in the sand.

Now Sarah came running. She had no chance, of course, but she beat on Roland's chest, shouting, “You leave them alone! Who do you think you are, anyway?”

Quickly the stranger pinioned her wrist and held her easily. “They started it!” he said. “If they're going to start something, they've got to take the consequences.”

Next, Josh came up. “Turn her loose, Roland!” His face was pale. He glanced over to where Wash was helping Reb to his feet. He glanced at Dave and saw that his friend's mouth was bleeding. “We don't need any of this.”

“You're just a bunch of babies. All of you. You can't take it.”

Roland Winters turned around and stalked off down the beach. He seemed totally unconcerned about what he had done.

“What a bully!” Sarah exclaimed.

“He's hateful!” Abbey cried. She went over to Dave and said, “Let me see.” Frowning, she studied his face. “Your mouth is cut. We'll have to put something on it.”

As Abbey led Dave off, Sarah went to Reb. “Are you all right, Reb?”

“I reckon I'll live.” But Reb's pale eyes glittered, and he added, “It's not the last of it, though.”

“Aw, come on, Reb,” Wash, the peacemaker, said. “We're not really hurt.”

Reb did not answer. His eyes were on the form of Roland Winters, still walking away from them. “I never doubted that Goél knows what he's doing, but if he's really chosen
that
one to go with us, I reckon he's made a pretty big mistake this time.”

 

 

 

F
or the next two days the Sleepers waited impatiently for Goél to arrive. But he did not come, and there was no guessing as to when he would appear.

In the meantime, Roland Winters proved to be the most unpleasant and arrogant bully that any of the Sleepers had ever seen. Even Wash, the most even tempered and sweet-natured of all the Sleepers, grew weary of him. And it took a great deal of tact to keep Reb Jackson from jumping into another fight, for Reb had not forgotten the blow that he had taken.

One afternoon Reb and Wash were fishing off a wharf, catching silvery, torpedo-shaped fish for supper. The setting sun seemed to be sinking right into the lake. It was a huge orange disk, and Wash said he almost expected to see the water sizzle as it went down.

“Come on, Reb, you can't go around down in the mouth for the rest of your life,” he said after a while. He nudged his friend with his elbow. “We'll just hope Goél has got something else for Mr. Roland Winters to do than travel with us.”

“Well,
I
sure hope so,” Reb muttered. “That is one no account bird if I ever saw one. He's always bullying somebody, and he'd better not try it on me again.”

“Cool off! Cool off! Can't last forever. When something bad happened, my grandmother used to say, ‘The Bible says it came to pass. It didn't come to
stay.
It came to
pass.
' I expect Mr. Roland Winters will pass sooner or later.”

“He'd better! I couldn't stand to be in the same space with him for very long.” Reb suddenly saw his cork go under. As always, he lost his head when he caught a fish. He yelled at the top of his lungs and pulled the fish up.

Wash looked at the catch and grinned. “That's a mighty big yell for a mighty little fish.”

Reb took the tiny fish off the hook and then slipped it back into the water. “I can't figure Goél out. Just can't. We're doing pretty well by ourselves, aren't we? I mean, we've never failed him so far. Why does he have to send us ‘help'?”

“Don't try to figure Goél out, Reb,” Wash said. “It's a waste of time.”

 

When Reb and Wash left camp to go fishing, Josh brought out the swords. It was part of Goél's training plan that they practice every day with all their weapons, including bows, swords, staves, and even knives. They had been through terrible danger too often for anyone to doubt that they might need them at any time.

Now as Josh took out the practice swords—blades blunted and with dull edges—he said, “Jake, you need to work on your swordsmanship a little bit.”

“Don't we all?” Jake muttered. “What I need is an AK47 attack rifle.” He was impatient with primitive weapons and longed for some of the automatic arms that he had seen before Oldworld blew itself up. He picked up a sword and swished it around. “I'll never be any good with one of these things.”

Dave wandered up and heard his remark. “Sure you will. You just have to practice, Jake. Come on. Let's have a go at it.”

Jake was still grumbling. “Nobody in this bunch has ever beat you, Dave. Practicing with you is like playing a game you never win.”

“Well, you can invent things that I can't.” Dave grinned at him encouragingly. His swollen lip was now back to normal. He selected a sword, and the two boys approached each other.

Though all the boys had had quite a bit of practice with blades, Jake was truly bad. On the other hand, Dave was by far the most able swordsman, even as Sarah was by far the best with a bow.

Roland came strolling up and stood with Josh, watching the practice for a while. “I can only hope we don't meet anybody that's got a weapon during this adventure we're going on,” he said.

“Why would you say that?” Josh asked him. He knew that some insult was coming.

“Because unless the rest of you can handle a sword better than those two, we're a lost cause.”

Dave stepped back, and his face reddened. “Maybe you'd like to try a bout, Roland.”

“It wouldn't be fair, Dave. You're just not in my class.”

“Oh? Well, maybe you're not as good as you think you are.”

“Oh yeah? I'm as good as I think I am.”

It looked as if Dave was gritting his teeth. Then he reached for a sword and held it out to Roland Winters, hilt first. “Here. Take this, and let's have a go at it. Let's see how good you are.”

Roland shrugged and covered an exaggerated yawn. “Well, all right. I'll use my left hand. That'll give you some break.”

“No. Give it your best shot,” Dave said. “I want to see how great you really are.”

The two boys lifted their swords. Dave, clearly infuriated by the arrogance of Roland Winters, attacked at once. His sword flashed in the sunlight as he put forth his best effort.

Sarah and the other Sleepers drifted up to watch.

Josh saw at once that it was hopeless. Roland lazily parried Dave's every thrust. From time to time he would change his sword to the other hand, and he seemed to be just as good with his left as with his right.

“Wow, he's amphibious!” Josh breathed.

“You don't mean amphibious. You mean ambidextrous,” Jake told him. “He can use either hand equally well.”

It was obvious that Roland was simply toying with Dave. Finally the stranger parried a blow and in a quick motion brought down his blade on Dave's sword, near the hilt. It tore the sword from Dave's hand.

Instantly the blunted point of Roland's sword was right over Dave's heart. “Well, bout's over,” he said.

“That was real good, Roland,” Josh said reluctantly. He was very annoyed, but he had learned that he sometimes had to be peacemaker as well as leader. “You must have had a lot of practice.”

“Yes. Quite a bit.” Roland turned to him. “You want to try it, Josh?” he asked.

At once Josh knew that this was a challenge to his leadership. He also knew that he had no chance whatsoever against Roland. Still, he could not back down, so he said mildly, “I'm not as good as Dave, and I can always use some good advice. Maybe you can give me some.”

“Sure. Be glad to help you along, Josh. Come on. Let's see what you've got.”

Josh was even more helpless before the flashing blade of Roland Winters than Dave had been. And since Josh was the second best swordsman among the Sleepers, it was obvious that none of them could stand up to this tall boy who cruelly laughed at their weaknesses.

“As I said,” Roland commented when their practice bout ended, “I hope we don't meet anything dangerous on this mission. Except for me, there's not a one who could stand up to a really bad situation.”

Sarah replied hotly, “Reb here has killed a dragon. How many dragons have you killed, Roland?”

“Never met one. But if I did, I could handle it.”

Jake said, “Well, I see there won't be any of the rest of us bragging about anything. You do enough bragging for all of us.”

“If you can do it,” Roland said coolly, eyeing the small boy with disdain, “it's not bragging. You all need help with any of your other weapons?”

Josh suddenly winked at Sarah. “Maybe you could show us a little bit about how to use a bow.”

“Glad to.” Roland waved his hand. “Always glad to give advice.”

The Sleepers went to the targets that had been set up, and Josh broke out the bows. “Here, Roland, you can take your pick.”

“Hm, I've seen better bows. I guess this one will have to do.” He strung it easily, something that was very difficult for most of the Sleepers because this was a powerful bow. He made it look so simple.

Roland Winters eyed the target. Then he notched his arrow, and he drew back the string. The motion seemed to be effortless, and Josh remembered how he himself had to struggle to draw that particular bow. He
was always just as likely to send the arrow over the trees as into the target.

Roland released the arrow, and it struck the top of the bull's-eye. He turned to Sarah with a challenging smile. “Let's see you kill a dragon, Sarah.”

Sarah stepped forward. In one smooth motion she notched an arrow, drew it, and sent it flying. Before it struck, she had notched another. The first arrow hit the center of the target. Before it had stopped quivering, another was right beside it. Four more quickly followed in order.
Plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk.

Roland gaped at the arrows clustered in a space no larger than his hand. His face grew red. He said, “Not bad.”

“No. Not bad,” Josh said.

Reb was grinning broadly. “You want to give Sarah a few lessons?”

“I don't need any of your smart talk! Maybe she
can
shoot, but that's not all there is to weapons.” Roland turned and stalked off.

“He just can't stand to be beaten, can he?” Abbey said. “What a drip!”

Roland was still off in the grove of trees somewhere when supper time came.

Sarah said, “I don't care if he stays out there all night. He won't like anything we've cooked, anyway.”

The Sleepers sat down and plunged into the meal. Actually it was really very good tonight. They had fresh fish, and Reb had insisted on making hush puppies—crisp deep-fried balls of dough. They had onions and garlic and other spices in them.