Treespeaker (26 page)

He shook his head. “I can’t take that. It’s obviously valuable and you’ve repaid me already by bringing me here.”

Nereya grabbed Jakan’s hand and pushed the medallion into it, folding his fingers about it. “I want you to have it. My husband gave it me as a charm for when we travelled. It brought you to us when we needed you, I’m sure of that. Now, let’s say goodbye. You have to go and knock on that door.” Her eyes glistened as she spoke.

With trembling hands, Jakan put the medallion about his neck. He ruffled Lasran’s hair and took Nereya’s hand in both his. “Where will you go now?”

“Down to the wharf to find passage to the islands.”

Jakan squeezed her hand. “I hope you see your husband very soon. Travel safely.”

Nereya leaned over Lasran and gave Jakan a soft kiss on the cheek. “I hope Varyd can help you,” she said. “Now, go!”

With one last smile, he turned and clambered from the cart.

***

Varyd had aged. His dark brown hair was almost white and his long face, though still thin, had taken on a pudgy appearance. He peered at Jakan with a look of puzzlement for a few seconds, then at the manservant who had shown him in. When he looked back at Jakan, his face cracked into a disbelieving smile and he stepped forward, placing his hand firmly on Jakan’s shoulder as he stared down at him.

“Jakan? I can’t believe you’re here. I mean, why are you here? How?”

Jakan smiled at his old friend. Though he had aged, his mannerisms, his way of speaking in a rush, remained the same. “It’s a long story.” Suddenly he felt very tired. “May I sit?”

“Of course, of course, please!” Varyd pushed Jakan towards a table at the far side of the room. He turned to the servant who still lingered at the door. “Krinfel, some tea please. Something to eat, too, if you can muster it.”

“Yes, sir.” Krinfel gave a slight bow and backed out of the room.

Jakan sank onto a chair with a sense of relief and looked about him. The room contained a collection of artifacts that Varyd must have brought back from his travels; an assortment of weaponry, string baskets, masks and jewelry. Jakan smiled as he recognised a copy of the morshu tattoo in a frame on the wall. Varyd, too, wore the tattoo, having been made a member of the tribe. Someone must have copied it for him. It seemed strange to see it so large.

Varyd walked around the table to seat himself opposite.

“It’s good to see you again, old friend,” Jakan said.

Varyd gazed at him, his head cocked to one side. “Tell me, Jakan. Tell me what’s happened. Why are you here?”

Jakan gave a wry smile. Now he had made it to his destination, he did not know where to start.

He took a deep breath. “Beldror.”

Varyd’s eyebrows rose as he leaned back in his seat. “Ah! I should have guessed. He’s been missing for some time. So he’s in Arrakesh?”

Jakan nodded. Pushing through his tiredness, he let the story pour out of him, holding nothing back. Varyd listened without comment. His green-brown eyes filled with tears as Jakan spoke of Jalena’s death and his jaw tightened when he heard of Jakan’s expulsion from the forest.

Jakan stopped speaking as Krinfel returned with a tray of biscuits and mugs of herb tea. He nodded his head in thanks as Varyd offered him the plate. The biscuits were sweet with honey and melted in his mouth. The tea smelled of chamomile. They ate and drank in silence for a few moments, then Varyd placed his cup on the table and shook his head.

“But how did he get into the forest? Surely Arrakesh would sense the danger?”

“He tore the Veil. He had a healing stone.”

Varyd paled. His lips thinned and he frowned. “I’m sorry.”

Jakan sat up straight, putting his own cup on the table. “Sorry for what?” Varyd didn’t reply, but Jakan felt sick as the answer came to him. “He got it from you. You took a stone when I took you to Fashmanek? Why? I –”

“I’m sorry Jakan, I knew I shouldn't. I couldn’t help myself. I’m a collector. I collect things from the cultures I study.”

Jakan felt a sudden surge of anger and deep disappointment. “Is that all we were? A culture to study? A source of pretty things to decorate your walls? I thought you respected us.”

“Of course I respected you.” Varyd clutched his forehead. “I’m sorry, I really am. I don’t know how he found it. I’d hidden it. I…” His hand went to his mouth and he looked up, letting out a long slow breath. “My diary! It went missing. Beldror must have –”

At Varyd’s mention of Beldror’s name, something tore through Jakan’s mind like a huge claw. A voice, cold and angry, spoke inside his head. Jakan frowned and shut his eyes, shaking his head in an effort to clear it, but the voice droned on, saying the same thing over and over,
Everything that has happened is Varyd’s doing. Kill him!
Jakan trembled, clutching the edge of the table and clamping his teeth together.

Opposite him, Varyd stood, reaching out a hand in concern. With no conscious thought, Jakan growled and swiped at him, jumping to his feet and knocking the chair over behind him. It crashed onto the stone floor, but Jakan hardly noticed. All he could hear was the voice. It scared him, but at the same time anger welled up in him that he could not control, all of it aimed at Varyd.

Jakan’s hand moved to his belt and removed his knife. He stared at it, wondering how it got there. Something he could not control forced him to move around the table towards Varyd, the knife held in front of him. The voice in his head screamed now,
Kill him!

“Jakan, what’s happening? Why are you doing this?” Varyd’s face was white, but his voice remained calm as he backed around the table away from Jakan’s advance. “Say something, Jakan.”

Jakan tried to speak, but he couldn’t. Whatever controlled him held his jaw shut.
I don’t want to do this. Stop me, please, Varyd.
He continued to advance toward his friend. Soon Varyd would have nowhere to go, for the chair on the far side of the table sat against a cupboard, blocking his escape.
Arrakesh, this can’t be what you wanted.
Jakan’s breath came in short gasps.

Varyd stopped at the chair. He glanced over Jakan’s shoulder and gave a slight shake of his head. Jakan snapped his head around for a moment. Krenfel stood behind him, a huge war hammer in his hands. He stopped still. Jakan swung back toward Varyd, standing sideways so that he could see both men. Silently he willed Krenfel to use his weapon.

Kill him. Now!
The voice made Jakan wince as he fought against it. The hand holding the knife shook as he tried to loosen his grasp. Then, in horror, he watched as it rose before him ready to strike at Varyd’s chest. He had no control over it. It was as if his hand did not belong to him. He was going to kill Varyd, or be killed trying, and there was nothing he could do to stop himself.

The voice in your head isn’t yours, Jakan. You must fight it.

Hekja’s words broke into Jakan’s memory and he clung to them, like a man clutching a log to stay afloat in a raging river. He closed his eyes, shutting out the horror on Varyd’s face and tried to calm his breathing.

Krenfel, he knew, still stood behind him, the hammer ready to strike. That, too, gave Jakan a strange sort of hope. Death would be preferable to killing Varyd. At the same time, it was not an option. Arrakesh had given him a task. He had come too far not to complete it. This was Beldror’s doing. Frustration and anger steeled his will.

Jakan concentrated his mind on the hand that held the knife. It shook in the air, still poised to slash down, but he wouldn’t let it. His shoulder burned with the effort of keeping his arm up. With clenched jaw, he forced everything he had left of himself into his fingers. Pushing against the force that held them, they jerked open. The knife clattered to the floor.

As the blade fell, something in Jakan’s mind gave way. Some part of him was aware of Varyd’s arms stopping his collapse, but another part of him floated away in a slow, undulating motion toward the ceiling.

In terrified wonder, Jakan regarded the room below him. Varyd and Krenfel knelt over a body. He stared at the scene in dismay. Who was the old man they leaned over? Then the truth sank in, but still he did not want to believe it. That was not his own body, surely? He knew that he looked older than his years, but this man’s hair and beard were almost white, his face drawn and lined. He couldn’t look that old.

The peculiarity of his situation didn’t strike Jakan for a few moments. When it did, he trembled and a feeling of dread seeped over his mind. It had happened. Arrakesh’s hold on him had been broken and he was floating away, alone forever.

No! It couldn’t happen. He had to get back to Arrakesh. At the very least he had to get back into his body long enough to convince Varyd to go to the forest as Arrakesh wished. He concentrated on the body below him, willing himself back into it. Nothing happened. He did not move. Panic caused him to rise some more.

“Jakan, wake up.”

Varyd’s eyes held a glint of fear. He gave Jakan’s face a gentle slap. Above him, Jakan jumped in surprise as he felt the blow. There was still a chance. Concentrating on Varyd’s voice and the continuing slaps to his cheek, Jakan pushed himself and descended slowly to his body. He had a vague sensation of passing through a cobweb, then nothing.

He awoke with a start. Varyd’s face flooded with relief and Krenfel sat back on his heels, smiling a little. Immediately the voice in Jakan’s head started to scream again and Jakan shut his eyes, clenching his fists and shaking his head. He registered Varyd’s fingers at his temples, but could not gather his thoughts well enough to wonder about it, until the voice faded and died. It was as if it had been drawn from his mind and released to blow away. Jakan relaxed and opened his eyes.

“He’s gone, Jakan. I should have realised what was happening from the start. It’s one of Beldror’s favourite tricks.” Varyd rested his hand on Jakan’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

Jakan did not speak for a moment, relishing the silence in his mind, the hardness of the stone floor beneath him and the dusty smell of the rug he lay on. He stared up at the vaulted stone ceiling and took a deep breath. He could feel the tenuousness of his body’s hold on his soul, like a bird housed in a cage with no door. Only a matter of time before it flew. With a weak smile, he regarded Varyd.

“I’m sorry.”

His friend waved a dismissive hand in the air and shook his head. “There is nothing to be sorry for. Beldror placed the idea in your head and a trigger word to start it up. I must have said the trigger word.”

          “You stopped it. How? Are you a sorcerer, too?”

Varyd glanced quickly at Krenfel, then back at Jakan, sucking at his bottom lip before speaking. “No, not really, not a sorcerer. I’m more of an unraveller. I can break spells better than I can make them.”

“You never told me.”

Varyd gave an abashed grin. “It wasn’t something that came up. I came to study your ways. The fact that I dabbled in magic was immaterial. I wasn’t hiding it.”

Jakan let out a long breath. “How did you get out without Arrakesh knowing you had it? He would have warned me.” He shifted on the floor, trying to sit up.

Varyd helped him to rise, but avoided his eye. He picked at the pattern on the rug as he spoke. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s not as strong as you think him.”

Jakan felt the fluttering of the bird in its doorless cage and fought to hold it. He rested his elbows on his knees. “Arrakesh is only as strong as his people make him. He needs us as much as we need him, but we frequently let him down.” He closed his eyes and let his head droop as weariness washed over him.

“Krenfel, run and get the wagon and set it up for a journey. We need to get Jakan home.”

Jakan raised his head and shook it slowly. “It’s too late. This…” he waved his arm in the direction of the knife now lying on the floor, “has broken my tie with Arrakesh. I won’t make it back alive.” The pain of this truth hit him as he spoke and caught in his throat. “You must go, Varyd. Arrakesh told me to get you. That’s why I made the journey.”

Krenfel had stood up, but stopped as Jakan spoke. Now he raised an eyebrow at Varyd.

Varyd used the edge of the table to pull himself up. “Get the wagon, Krenfel. Make a bed in it for Jakan.” He shook his head as Jakan made to protest. “You’re alive, Jakan. While you’re alive, there’s a chance we can do something.”

“There’s nothing –”

“Go, please, Krenfel.”

***

Jakan could see little over the edge of the wagon, but he was still aware that they were travelling at great speed. He could hear the hurried footfall of the horse and the crush of stones beneath the iron-rimmed wheels. Above him the sky was a cloudless sheet of blue. Tilting his head he saw the broad back of Krenfel in the driver’s seat of the wagon. The metal rings attached to the reins jingled, as the big man shook them to speed the horses on.

Jakan shut his eyes as he felt the urge of his soul to fly free again. He could not hold it much longer. There was no pain, but his body grew weaker. His energy ebbed away with every breath.

Beside him, Varyd leaned against the side of the wagon, his gaze far away in thought. As the wagon hit a bump and wobbled side to side, he shifted to study Jakan. Something caught his eye and he leaned forward. His fingers lifted Nereya’s medallion from inside Jakan’s shirt. He inspected it, frowning.

“Where did you get this?”

In as few words as possible, Jakan explained Nereya’s gift and the reason for it.

Varyd pursed his lips and slipped it back under Jakan’s shirt. “It’s a shinya,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “From the Far Islands. A ward against magic. She was giving you protection.”

Jakan gave a wry smile. “Then it doesn’t work.”

 “Beldror’s magic was already inside you,” Varyd answered. This only protects you from magic coming at you. Like a shield.”

Jakan stared up at the sky, fingering the gift he would never use. Suddenly the blue was hidden from view by the dark green canopy of the plantation. The wagon must be moving at great speed, for they had reached this place in a very short time. He breathed in the strong scent of the pines. Would this be his last view of a forest, this half-hearted attempt to fix the mistakes of the past?

“Jakan?” Varyd interupted his thoughts. “You said you were saved from the slavers by creatures from Dralgo. Was it the morshu?”

“You know of them? How?”

Varyd shifted himself into a more comfortable position, leaning his elbow on the side of the wagon. “When I left Arrakesh, I wanted to get home as quickly as possible, but I knew the danger of going through the boglands, so I headed for Dralgo. Then, as now, it was a risky road to take, frequented by thieves and rogues. It was unwise to go that way either. I was attacked. I’d be dead, but for the morshu. They saved me, gathered all my belongings, took me to the forest and nursed me until I was well enough to travel.”

Jakan took a deep breath. His mind felt fuzzy at the edges, as if reality was fading. “They saved you? A Carlikan?”

Varyd chuckled, pointing to the tattoo at his throat. “You forget, Jakan. I’m an Arrakeshi, too. You made me one. The creatures of Dralgo always make me welcome.”

 “You’ve seen the others?”

Varyd smiled and nodded. The sun suddenly shone on them again as they came out of the plantation and Varyd signalled to Krenfel to stop. The horses snorted with relief as they trotted to a halt.

Varyd gazed out towards Dralgo. “You can call the morshu from here.”

“Call them?”

Varyd nodded. “Call on Arrakesh and they’ll come.”

Jakan swallowed the sob that sprang to his throat. “Varyd, don’t you understand?”

Varyd’s brow furrowed and he moved to kneel beside him. “Jakan, has Arrakesh changed since I was in the forest? Did you not tell me that he cared for all his people?”

“Of course he does.”

“Then how can you think that he’ll not be looking for you, knowing that you’re out here?”

Jakan couldn’t speak.

“So, call him.” Varyd held his hands palm up and looked at the sky.

Through the mist in his mind, Jakan called, his silent voice shaking in despair. No reply came. He felt empty. Then, in the distance, he heard a sound that made his heart race; the soft swishing motion of feathered wings.

Within minutes Kel’s face appeared beside him. Without a word the huge creature reached into the cart and lifted Jakan into his feathered arms. On the other side of the wagon Varyd climbed onto Cree’s back, as blithely as if he were a horse. With one accord the two Morshu rose into the air, leaving Krenfel and the wagon far below them. Jakan closed his eyes and concentrated on keeping his soul safe within the ever-weakening cage of his body.

***

“It’s too dangerous.”

“But it’s the only chance he has. Look at him. He won’t survive the night. You’ve got to do something.”

“It’s for the creatures of Dralgo. Only one human has ever…”

“Yes, at a time of great need for the Arrakeshi. Surely this is just such a time?”

“But if he fails the Judgement…”

“He won’t!”

There was a pause and Jakan, his eyes still closed, could imagine Varyd’s impatient glare at Kel.

“We would have to consult the Fahshan to know Arrakesh’s will.”

“Then do it! But do it quickly.”

Jakan opened his eyes as the rustle of wings indicated that Kel was leaving.

“What’s happening?” The words came out a whisper, all Jakan could manage.

It was evening. Above him, the sky glowed pink. The cooler air made the smells of the forest sweet and he breathed them in with short, shallow breaths. Kel did not answer, but glanced at Varyd and Cree who sat nearby, before striding away.

Varyd moved closer and laid a hand on Jakan’s chest. “Just hold on. There may be a way to save you.”

Jakan spoke between rapid breaths. “Tell me what’s happening. Who’s the Fahshan?”

 “The Keeper of the Keshfah. You’ve heard the story of Gredanfyt?”

Jakan managed a slight nod, frowning slightly as he wondered how Varyd knew it. “Putak told me. Came for a cure. Bark from a tree.” Speaking was becoming difficult.