Treespeaker (13 page)

“What will you tell them, the other villagers?”

Megda brought her lips together tightly, as if trying to stop herself from saying what she was about to say. “Jakan lost his mind –” She held up a hand to stop Dovan’s protest. “He lost his mind and ran off into the forest. We’ll know those who aren’t under Beldror’s control, by those who want to look for him, or those who don’t believe it.” She reached up to a shelf to fetch a bowl. “You…you’ve gone in search of him.”

“Shouldn’t I really be searching for him? He could still be out there. He –”

“It’s too dangerous if Beldror is out there.” Megda handed him the bowl. “Don’t worry. Jakan is resourceful, he’ll be fine.”

I hope you’re right.
Dovan held the bowl while she scooped some stew from the pot over the fire.
I’ll find out what happened, Father,
he promised himself.
And when I do, I’ll make you proud.

Jakan stumbled through the forest, paying little attention to his surroundings. His body ached and his mind screamed for rest. He resisted the urge to swing around and run back. How could he leave his people now, knowing what that man could do?

The moon had risen early, so he made his way with relative ease, but the further he moved from the village, the thicker the undergrowth grew. Brambles and vines clawed at his legs and threatened to trip him at every step. At the same time, his thoughts became more and more confused.

He longed to curl up on the forest floor and sleep, but the night was cold and his tunic offered little protection. At last, he stopped running and flopped onto a log. He had moved with no conscious regard to where he went, so he studied the dark forest now, trying to get some idea of his location. Before tonight, this would have been simple. A handful of dirt would have told him the name of the place, who it belonged to and even who had passed that way in the last hour. That was his skill as Treespeaker. Now the blank space in his mind told him nothing except that he was lost, in every sense of the word.

A black shadow in a nearby tree startled him from his lethargy. The moon glowed above the treeline and silver light shimmered on black wings. When Jakan saw the bird’s eyes, glinting in the moonlight, he caught his breath. The hawk stared back at him for a few moments. Then its shrill whistle pierced the air. Clutching at his chest, Jakan fell from the log onto the thick bed of autumn leaves on the forest floor, writhing in pain. Abruptly, the pain stopped. The hawk rose in slow motion from its perch, swooped low over his head and vanished into the night. It had delivered its warning.

Jakan struggled to his feet, his breathing ragged. He had to keep moving, but where was he to go? Panic made his chest hurt even more. How could he survive without Arrakesh to help him? He depended on him.
Take a hold of yourself,
he reproached himself.
You may not have Arrakesh as your guide, but you know this forest. Think!

As he tried to reason with himself, images of Jalena flashed into his mind. He clung to the pain they caused, holding his grief tight within him. To let it go, he feared, would be to let Jalena go. It was all he had left. He didn’t want to let her go. He simply wanted her back. Why hadn’t Arrakesh made his warning clearer? Shutting his eyes, Jakan forced his feelings down.

With time, his mind calmed and his breathing returned to normal. He looked around, taking note of the moon and the stars, the moss on the trees and the thickness of the forest. Gradually these things all came together and he began to get a sense of where he was. He had travelled south. If he kept going this way he should reach the village of the Second Tribe of Arrakesh before morning.

Once again he struggled with doubt. What if he did reach the Second Tribe? How would that help? He could never expect them to become involved. It was too dangerous. Anyway, that bird would never let him mount any kind of resistance. If he didn’t leave, it would kill him. He felt quite sure of that.

He pushed himself to move forward. At least if he made contact with someone, he could leave a message for Dovan and Megda. Someone at the village of the Second Tribe could do that. Jakan stumbled on. In this direction, he should be able to find a path, which would make travelling easier. Communication between the two tribes was irregular, but when villagers moved between the two villages, they followed the same route. The path would not be wide, but it would make it easier to move through the undergrowth.

Studying the moonlit forest once more, Jakan decided to head a little to the southwest in the hope of coming across the track. At worst, he would miss the village, but reach the edge of the Veil. Either way he would be moving away from Beldror and, hopefully, the hawk. How he would be able to leave the forest, he had no idea.

A low branch swung back as he pushed it out of his way, swiping him in the face. As he rubbed at his cheek, he almost tripped over a vine that twisted across the ground. The path must be somewhere.

Seek Varyd!
What had Arrakesh meant? He could see no reason to seek Varyd. The man had not been there in the village for over twenty years. What could he have to do with what was happening? The impossibility of his task confused him, too. He shook his head in frustration.

“
Give me a clue Arrakesh
,
” he shouted into the forest, but the sound of the distant waterfall echoed in his head.

An image of Jalena entered his mind once more, urging him to leave her and go to the meeting. Could it have only been that morning? How could he have let this happen? If he’d fought harder, been more insistent, Beldror could not have done what he did. He’d be home with Jalena. But it had all happened so fast. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

 Despair gave way to anger.
Why, Arrakesh? I’ve given my life to you and where are you now? You’ve deserted me. I needed your help. What did I do wrong?
Nausea burned his throat and tears stung at his eyes. He snatched at a branch that barred his way, tore it from the shrub and tossed it aside. He stopped. What did destroying branches achieve? He took a deep breath and let it out in a slow stream. He had to focus. He had to believe that Arrakesh had control, even though he couldn’t feel him. Otherwise, he would go mad.

Jakan forced himself to concentrate on the village of the Second Tribe. He had been there before on a number of occasions. His cousin, Putakash, was Treespeaker there. Older than Jakan, he had been a good friend when Jakan’s father had died, teaching him much about being a Treespeaker.

He halted again with a jerk as a memory shot to the surface of his mind. He and Putak had exchanged tribal legends on long evenings around the fire in those days after his father’s death. Putak had told one about a Treespeaker who left the forest. It had slipped Jakan’s mind until now. What was his name? Jakan’s thoughts misted over. He couldn’t remember, but the idea of it filled him with renewed resolve. Putak would know and he must know how this Treespeaker had managed it. Why hadn’t he thought of this before?

He quickened his pace and soon found the path. Now he had a reasonably clear route to tread and he began jog, pushing through his tiredness. By the time the surrounding shrubs began to thin out, a sure sign that a village was not far ahead, he felt exhausted.

The moon hung low in the sky as he entered the village. He made his way straight to Putak’s cottage, puffing with the effort of his journey. Excited by the thought of learning the secret of leaving, he didn’t stop to consider the time of night, but hammered on Putak’s door. His fist stung by the time he heard muttering from inside and the door was flung open.

“What’s the emergency?” Putak, his grey hair mussed and eyes still heavy with sleep, gazed at Jakan with no sign of recognition. He moved the candle he held closer to Jakan’s face. Then his furrowed brow smoothed and rose as his eyes widened. “Jakan. What are you doing here?”

Instinctively, Jakan spoke a greeting in the time-honoured way of Treespeakers, through thoughtspeak. Then his mind surged on.
Putak, tell me the legend of the Treespeaker who left the forest.
His words, however, echoed in his head, as if he’d thrown them down a well, and he could hear nothing in return but the sound of rushing water.

Putak looked puzzled. He stepped in front of Jakan and put a hand on his shoulder. His frown deepened. “Jakan?”

 “I need you to tell me the legend, Putak, the one about the Treespeaker who –”

Putak squeezed his shoulder. “Slow down. Do you know what time of night it is? Why are you here? And in this state? Tell me what’s happened.” He pulled Jakan into the cottage as he spoke and closed the door.

The cottage smelled of chamomile and lavender, reminding Jakan of his own cottage before... Tears sprang to his eyes and he stumbled. He let Putak lead him to a cushion and guide him onto it. His legs shook like leaves in a breeze and he doubted they could have supported him much longer. He buried his face in his hands and took deep breaths in an effort to calm himself.

When he looked up again, Putak had seated himself opposite him. He still wore a frown. “Tell me.”

Jakan struggled at first. He found it taxing, tired and bereft as he was, to gather his thoughts. Putak, however, showed great patience. With gentleness, he questioned Jakan, easing the story from him, until at last he had told everything. Then he shut his eyes for a few moments. When, at last, he regarded Jakan once more, his face held a mixture of sympathy and anger.

“I can’t say how sorry I am,” he said. “You’ve been through more than any man should have to bear. But this man is a threat to the whole of Arrakesh. You must do as Arrakesh says, and seek this Varyd, for whatever reason. Though how you can –”

Jakan sat up with a jerk, reminded once more of his goal in coming here. His heart raced again. “But I need you to tell me how I’m to do it. You told me a legend once …”

“Gredanfyt.” Putak shook his head. “He left the forest, yes. But it’s a legend, Jakan. There’s no guarantee that it would work for you.”

“It’s the only chance I have.” Jakan reached a shaking hand towards Putak. “Please... tell me how he did it.”

Putak hesitated for a moment. “Very well.” He shifted himself on the cushion, his legs crossed, and settled his hands on his knees; the customary position for the telling of a legend.

“Many generations ago,” he began, his voice soft, “when Arrakesh, Our Great Guide, first made his voice heard to man, and protected his people with the Veil, there lived a Treespeaker named Gredanfyt. He was an obedient man, who served his people well and never failed to do the Will of Arrakesh.”

Jakan felt a surge of guilt at his own failure but said nothing. Putak didn’t say this to get at him. It was simply the way these legends were told. The words never changed, so that the stories stayed true from generation to generation through the ages. He fought the urge to hurry Putak on to what he needed to know.

“One day,” Putak continued, “a great evil came upon the Second Tribe, causing an illness which took many lives. It was a horrible and painful death. The remedy for this illness lay in the bark of the Silver Gill, a tree that only existed in the Remnant Forest of Dralgo, many miles outside the Veil in the Outlands of Carlika. It was the Will of Arrakesh that Gredanfyt should go and bring back enough of the bark to save his people. Yet he had already bound Treespeakers to himself, so that they could not leave the Veil. He told Gredanfyt to put a healing stone into a pouch along with a handful of earth from the forest floor. He should wear it about his neck and never remove it. As long as it was there around his neck, he would be able to leave the Veil without losing his life energy.”

Putak stopped, moved his hands from his knees and took a deep breath.

“So simple?” Jakan’s whole body shook.

Putak nodded. “But, as I said, there’s no guarantee.”

          “Why did Arrakesh send Gredanfyt? Why not send another, who was not bound by the Veil?”

“I’ve already told you more than I should, Jakan. The rest is taboo, to be passed from Treespeaker to Treespeaker of this tribe alone. I can’t tell you why. . But there was a reason, and it had nothing to do with the illness that we suffered. That is all I can tell you.”

“I’m grateful,” Jakan reached to his belt and swallowed hard as he remembered his last minutes with Beldror. “But my stone was taken from me.”

“I will give you mine. I can go for another one later today.” Putak leaned forward a little. “Jakan, you must believe that Arrakesh is with you in this. There is a reason he is sending you and not another.” He stood and walked to the door. He took his pouch from a hook on the doorpost and held it out to Jakan. “I don’t know how long, or how far, this stone will serve you, if indeed it works at all. Only that if the legend is true, it will get you to Dralgo.”

“Thank you.” Jakan took the pouch. The legend had given him a new perspective on his situation. Though his body begged for rest, he was anxious to start his journey. He tried to stand, but could manage only to rise to his knees.

“Where are you going?” Putak rushed forward and reached to take Jakan’s elbow.

Jakan swayed, the effort to keep his eyes open proving difficult. “I must…go. I…need to start…my journey.”