Treespeaker (22 page)

Jakan swallowed a lump of gristle. “No, a Carlikan by the name of Varyd Kohl.” He took a small sip of his drink, letting it down slowly to sooth where the gristle had jarred.

“I don’t know too many in Garuga.” Griselka frowned. “So he don’t know you’re lookin’ for him?”

Jakan shook his head and between mouthfuls of food, told her the barest details of his journey and why he had come. He felt tempted to tell her all as her eyes softened with a look of concern, but the telling still hurt too much and he was feeling more and more exhausted. Elbarn watched on, his eyes glazed, his mouth open.

“You poor soul,” Griselka said at last. “All this way from home and all alone. This Beldror you talked about…what’s his full name again?”

“Beldror Kardil.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said. I seem to remember somethin’ about a trader by the name of Kardil bein’ murdered years ago. Terrible affair. The wife were suspected, but they never proved nothin’. She’s some sort of sorceress or somethin’. Never ’eard nothin about no son, though.”

Jakan laid his spoon in the now empty bowl and wiped his mouth on his hand. “That might explain a few things.”
But not excuse them.
He stifled a yawn. “What about you?” he asked. “Do you live in Tomaga?”

She shook her head. “No, we travel mostly. I’ve a cart an’ I pick up what I can in one place, an’ trade it in another. We’re here for the markets tomorrow. It’s not the easiest life, but with Elbarn how he is, there’s not a lot of choice. He’s not up to much work. He’s just a big kid. But we get by.”

Jakan nodded, glancing at Elbarn who was amusing himself tying his fingers into knots. “It must be hard.” He yawned, unable to stifle it again. “I’m sorry. If you’ll excuse me, Griselka, I think I’ll go and see if I can get that room now.”

Griselka smiled. “It’s bin a pleasure. Just one word of advice before you go.”

Jakan paused.

“If you have to go to Garuga by way of Dralgo, don’t go on the northwestern road. It’s dangerous; too many rogues ready to fleece you or worse. As you leave town, go onto the path that leads direct north. It’ll take you to the east side of Dralgo. It may take longer to reach Garuga that way, but it’s safer.”

“That’s useful to know. Thank you. I’m very grateful.” Jakan nodded farewell, picked up his pack and coat and went back to the woman at the bench.

Behind him he heard Elbarn’s low drawl, “Bye, Bakshi,” followed by the sound of a slap and a childish whimper.

***

The road Griselka had recommended was narrower than the northwestern road, barely wide enough for a cart, and banked steeply down into the valley below. He could see Dralgo now, probably less than four hour’s walk away. Deep puddles remained in the channels, even though the rain had stopped last night.

Jakan still felt exhausted. The room at the inn had been drier and more comfortable than under a rock, maybe, but though he had slept, he woke up as tired as when he lay down. His feet were like two huge boulders on the end of his legs and he dragged them along with a huge effort.

An hour after he set off, he heard a cart coming up behind him and stepped off to the side of the road to let it pass. To his surprise, he saw Griselka at the reins, with Elbarn hunched beside her.

“I didn’t do too well at the markets this mornin’, but I’m on my way to Krivnik to pick up some chickens,” she said as she pulled up beside him. “I thought I might find you comin’ this way. Can I give you a ride? It’s not the most comfy, but it beats walkin’.”

Relief surged through Jakan. At Griselka’s direction, he walked to the back of the cart. It had a large metal cage on the back, covered with canvas. Urged by his mother, Elbarn jumped down and moved to open it.

As the door opened, a sudden chill came over Jakan. Two pairs of frightened eyes stared at him from the murky cage. He felt Elbarn step close behind him. Before he could react, the boy-man’s huge hands caught him in the middle of his back and threw him to the floor of the cage. His breath whooshed from his lungs and he felt dizzy.

“Hold him still, Elbie.” Griselka’s voice came soft beside him. Elbarn pushed him harder against the cart floor. He struggled, but couldn’t move. By the time Elbarn let him go, Griselka had tied Jakan’s arms tightly behind him and taken his knife and money pouch. Her son bundled him into the cage.

“Another chicken for market!” Griselka laughed without humour.

Jakan blinked as the cage door clanged shut behind him. He twisted to see out of the back of the cart.

“What’s going on?”

He took a deep breath as Griselka peered in at him.

 “Sorry, but a woman’s got to make a livin’.”

What am I doing here?

Dovan wiped his forehead on his sleeve and handed a leather bag to Maden further along the bank. The sun’s rays reflected off the blue waters of Fashmanek, hurting his eyes and adding to the heat of the work.
This goes against everything we believe. But if I refuse, Beldror will know I can resist him.
He looked at the line of men going along the bank. Their eyes showed no anguish at what they were doing. In fact they showed no emotion at all, just a mechanical will to get the work done.
We’re desecrating a sacred place!
Dovan wanted to shout. He took another bag and passed it on.

They had come here the previous afternoon, arriving just before dark and camped overnight to start work at first light. The small handcarts borrowed from Hyjik, the potter, stood along the bank, away from the steep sides of Fashmanek. The sacks, into which the bags were being emptied, filled with alarming speed. Dovan swallowed back his feeling of nausea. How many healing stones did Beldror intend to collect?

The bags got heavier as the morning went on, yet only Dovan seemed to be tiring. Everyone else appeared to be under an extra strong hold of Beldror’s, some sort of hypnotic trance. He fought not to show his fatigue and was relieved at last to hear a shout.

 “A short break!”

Dovan took the last bag, almost full of healing stones and moved along the bank, one hand over the stones to stop them tipping from the top. As he came close to Maden, his foot slipped on a loose pebble. He grabbed Maden’s arm with his free hand to steady himself. Maden stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time. A glimmer of fear passed over his face as he saw the bag over Dovan’s shoulder.

“Dovan? What are we doing? Why do you have those healing stones?”

Dovan frowned and gazed at Maden, trying to decide if this was some trick. He could see nothing to suggest that it might be. He took his hand from Maden’s elbow to balance the bag he carried. But before he could answer, Maden’s eyes glazed over again and he turned without another word and walked away.

 Staring after him, Dovan puzzled over his friend’s reaction. Why had he suddenly seemed free of Beldror’s power and then succumbed to it again?  Beldror stood thirty yards along the bank talking to Lagak. He seemed oblivious to the five men walking along the bank towards him.  Ferad went to pass Dovan. With a quick glance over his shoulder at Beldror, who was still talking, Dovan put out his hand to stop his young friend, though he did not touch him.

“Ferad, stop a moment.” As he moved, the bag on his shoulder tipped and he had to use his hand stop the stones from falling out. Ferad stared at him without recognition. Dovan grabbed his elbow. “Ferad, please, stop.”

Now Ferad did stop. The same look of fear crossed his face as Dovan had seen in Maden. “Dovan! What –”

With a sense of exhilaration, Dovan let go of Ferad’s arm. As he expected, Ferad’s eyes straight away glazed over and he carried on walking. Dovan’s heart beat fast as he followed. Could it really be that simple? Could he break through Beldror’s power simply by touching? Surely if that were so, his father would have discovered it before now, for he healed by touch. Still thinking, Dovan emptied his bag of healing stones into the last sack on a cart and went to sit with the others.

Bread and water were distributed amongst the men and they sat in silence until Grifad spoke. “Only one more cart to fill and we can get back to the village. Eat up quickly.”

Dovan turned to Maden beside him. Maden stared at the stream, chewing his bread, apparently insensible to everything around him. Checking once more to make sure that Beldror was not watching, Dovan touched Maden gently on the arm.

There was no response. Maden continued to stare ahead and chew as if nothing else existed. Dovan let out a long, slow breath. Why had it worked before and not now? The disappointment made him feel cold, despite the sun’s warmth. He stared at the bright blue light that shone from the healing stones in the water. His blood warmed again and he suppressed a smile. The healing stones. When he had touched Maden and Ferad he had been holding the healing stones.  Now he had only the one that Putak gave him, hidden inside a pouch on his belt. He felt a sudden eagerness to get back to work.

Back at the water’s edge, Dovan waited for Ferad, barefoot in the stream, to fill a bag. As Ferad passed him a load, Dovan cast a nervous glance at Beldror. Sure that he was not watching, he scooped a handful of stones from the bag and slipped them into his pocket. From the next bag he filled his other pocket and from the next he poked stones into the sides of his boots. More went down the front of his tunic, slithering, cold and wet, to sit at his waist. The cart was almost full now. As he pushed two more down the back of his trousers Dovan froze. He had glanced at Beldror just in time to catch his gaze. Had he seen? Beldror’s face told him nothing as he turned away to walk to the carts. Dovan shuddered and took another bag from Ferad.

Did Beldror know what power the Treespeaker had against him with the healing stones? Was that why he had sent Jakan away? Dovan couldn’t decide. Beldror certainly seemed to hate his father right from the start, and his manner with Putak was just as cold. Hekja must not have read it in Beldror’s mind, or she would certainly have said something. So perhaps he didn’t know. Perhaps he just resented not being able to turn their minds.

With the carts full, the group set off through the forest towards the village. The three men pushing carts walked in front. It was a difficult task, for they had to pick their way amongst the trees and the carts dug into the forest soil under their heavy loads. Beldror and Grifad followed behind and the other four, Dovan included, brought up the rear. They walked in silence, the only sound the creaking of the wooden wheels on the carts and the occasional twitter of a bird in the treetops.

They had gone about half a mile when Beldror came to an abrupt halt and clapped his hand to the side of his head. He turned to Grifad. “My pack. I’ve left it by the stream.”

Grifad’s cheeks reddened a little, as if it were his fault. “I can go back and get it for you…” He started back towards the stream.

“No, Grifad, there’s no need for you to go. Send one of these young fellows. They’ll be there and back in half the time you’d take.” Beldror’s gaze settled on Dovan, who shivered a little under the steely stare. “You can do it, can’t you, Dovan?”

Dovan’s heart beat fast and he fought to show no emotion. Something told him this was a trap. Beldror had seen him hiding the stones and now planned to punish him. But how? He nodded and turned back the way they had come.

“It’s on the rock where the carts were standing.”

Dovan didn’t look back, but raised his hand to show he’d heard. His eyes scanned the forest, his shoulders tensing as he worried about what Beldror might do.

“Run, Dovan, we don’t have all day.”

Dovan ran. It made him feel even more vulnerable, but he knew that refusing to run would be far more dangerous. After a hundred yards he cast a glance back over his shoulder. The rest of the group continued to walk on. They no longer watched him. He relaxed a little and slackened his pace to a slow trot.

On his own out here in the forest, Dovan felt a sense of belonging that was new to him. Before he became a Treespeaker, it had just been the forest. Now it was a part of him, as if it flowed through him and he through it, inseparable. He did not feel it so much when he was with others, but alone he felt whole.

A noise to his left brought him to a halt. He turned slowly. A deer eyed him, her nose quivering as she smelled the air. Dovan felt a wave of sadness as he thought of the other deer from beyond Fashmanek and the anger it had caused his father. He had not understood, then, why it riled him so much. He did not know then why balance mattered. Now he knew. Would he ever get the chance to tell him?

His lips curled into a soft smile as he looked at the deer.
Go on, I’m not here to hurt you.
As if it had heard his thought the deer sprang away and vanished into the undergrowth.

Dovan moved to continue on his way. His foot met with air and he sprawled headlong. As he fell, his stomach churned. Fear that this was a trap set by Beldror shot through him, but his landing was soft. He waited a few seconds, his heart pounding, in case something else should spring at him. Nothing happened. He pulled himself to his knees and gazed around. He had fallen into a depression in the ground, which over time must have filled with leaves. Distracted by the deer, he hadn’t noticed it. With a shake of his head, he climbed out and set off again.

Back at the stream, Dovan glanced around for the bag. It was there on the rock, just where Beldror said it would be. He put his hand out to pick it up, then stopped. What was in it? What if Beldror had put something inside that would kill him? The rat? He hadn’t seen it for a while. Dovan crouched to pick up a long stick. With great care, he used it to lift the flap of the bag and flip it over. Then he moved around the rock and used the stick to lift the side of the bag up. There was nothing in it.

With a sigh of relief, Dovan threw the stick away, lifted the empty bag onto his shoulder and moved to catch the others. This time when he heard a noise he did not stop until, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement. The soft crack he had heard became a loud creak as a tall tree fell towards him. There was no time to think. He began to run, but even as he did he knew it was futile. In front of him another tree loomed towards him with an ear splitting crack and another off to the other side began to fall.

There was nowhere to go. Dovan came to an abrupt halt as his mind shouted at him.
The hollow!
Just to his right was the place where he had fallen. He jumped to it and dived. As he hit the ground he felt himself sinking into the earth even further than before, almost swallowed by the leaves and soft soil beneath him.
Arrakesh, hold me,
he thought as the first tree fell across his back. He felt the touch of the rough bark, a weight across his shoulders. He waited for the pain. All that came was a sting as a thin branch tore a deep scratch in his upper arm. His body lay cushioned in the soft earth as the other trees crashed nearby, hiding his upper body with their canopy.

In the distance, Dovan could hear voices shouting. The others must have heard the trees falling and were coming back. He tried to lift his head.
Don’t move
, something in his mind told him.
Whatever happens, don’t move.
Dovan lowered his head and laid still.

At last, the men returned. Above him, branches creaked and broke as they climbed over them to reach him. Dovan’s heart beat so hard in his chest he was sure someone must notice. A hard kick sent pain shooting up his leg and he bit his lip to stop himself crying out.

“Is he dead?” It was Grifad’s quavering voice.

“Of course he’s dead, you fool.” Beldror’s voice came from near Dovan’s feet. Dovan felt him pulling at his boots. He heard the clink of the healing stones falling from them and Beldror’s soft laugh.

“Just as I thought. Too much like his father.”

Beldror’s hands began to search Dovan’s body, removing the healing stones from wherever he could reach through the branches. Then he delved beneath him and tugged the pouch that hung from Dovan’s belt, giving a soft chuckle as he found the healing stone hidden with the flint. “Ah, Dovan, you were a sly one. Even more like your father than I thought. Right, let’s go.”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Grifad spoke again, his voice almost childlike. “Aren’t we going to take him back?”

“What for?”

Dovan could imagine Grifad’s face growing red and for the first time, he admired his bumbling stubbornness. “B…b…but…the farewell. We can’t just leave him…” He gave a scream of pain and Dovan heard him fall to his knees beside him.

“Grifad, I’m beginning to think you may be doing too much thinking for yourself, like this young idiot. Do you have any more questions?”

“N – no.”

“Then do what I say.”

Grifad gave another grunt of pain. He spoke in a monotone and Dovan could imagine his eyes glazed over once more. “Of course.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re seeing sense. Look at him. He’s been half swallowed by the earth already. No need to waste time carrying him.” Beldror gave Dovan another nudge with his foot as he stood up.