Treespeaker (27 page)

Varyd nodded. “Yes, but there’s a part of the story you probably didn’t hear. By the time he arrived, Gredanfyt was weak with the illness himself. There was no way he would make it back to Arrakesh alive without extra help from Arrakesh. He underwent the Judgement of the Keshfah, regained his strength and returned home.”

Jakan took a gulp of air. “You think Arrakesh wants this for me? Why? He sent me to get you. I have done all that he asked.”

“I don’t know why Arrakesh wanted you to find me. I can’t defeat Beldror if he has the power of the stones behind him. I’m not that powerful. There must be some other reason. Maybe this is the point you were supposed to reach.”

“I don’t understand.” Jakan closed his eyes tight as he felt his mind floating again and fought to keep it with him. “All that…just to get me to here?”

Varyd shrugged. “Maybe.”

“How do you…know all this? Gredanfyt’s story…the Judgement…secret knowledge.”

It was Cree who answered from where he sat a few yards away. “Varyd is one of us.”

Jakan opened his eyes and gazed from Cree to Varyd. “One of… How?”

Varyd gave an embarrassed shrug, swatting at an insect that buzzed around his face. “Four years ago, Beldror gathered a group of sorcerers, young fools barely out of school. They came to within a few miles of Dralgo and cast a spell, all working together. It rendered the creatures unable to move. Then they sent in soldiers who started systematically murdering them where they stood. His idea was to take control of Dralgo, just as he is now trying to do in Arrakesh. He didn’t realise I was here in the forest at the time. The spell didn’t affect humans, so I was able to unravel it and free the creatures, who killed the soldiers and most of the young sorcerers. Beldror, unfortunately, escaped.”

“We have made Varyd an honorary morshu.” Cree stood behind Varyd now. “He knows all the stories of Dralgo and the Arrakeshi.”

Jakan gave a slow smile, imagining Varyd with wings. Varyd looked up and Jakan followed his gaze to see Kel returning.

“He may undergo the Judgement,” Kel said, without emotion. Without another word he bent and lifted Jakan from the forest floor.

***

In the gathering dusk, Jakan could see the huge tree as only a large black shadow. Kel strode towards it with a steady gait. He did not slow as he came close to a small opening in the trunk. Jakan closed his eyes, his heart beating a wild dance in his chest. What was happening? They could not fit through that hole.

Seconds later he blinked as he raised his eyelids to a bright, almost blinding light. He still lay in Kel’s arms, but they were no longer in the forest. This was a room of some sort, circular with rough walls, like the inside of a hollow log. The floor was dirt. In the centre of the room, sat the source of the light; a stone, the size of a man’s head, glowing like the moon. It rested on a wooden plinth, curved and fingered like a hand to hold the stone in place. Jakan shivered a little and felt Kel’s arms tighten about him.

Jakan and Kel were alone. Without warning, a figure appeared. She stepped through the wall, a long thin shapely figure in a dark green robe with a hood pulled about her head. She came towards them and stopped, reaching up thin-fingered hands to remove the hood. Jakan gasped. Dazzling green, human eyes smiled at him from a face that was otherwise insect, a hard brown shell with antennae and jagged, pincer-like mouthparts. Jakan shrank back against Kel’s feathered chest.

“I am the Fahshan.” The creature’s voice sounded deep and smooth, far more human than she looked. “You are Jakanash of the Fifth Tribe?” Jakan’s nod was barely discernable, but she went on. “Are you willing to undergo the Judgement of the Keshfah?”

Jakan stared into the green eyes. They were gentle and encouraging, yet still he felt unsure.

 “How?”

The Fahshan held her hands a few inches above the stone and moved them in arcs around the surface. The pink and yellow swirls in the white rock glowed brighter and moved in time with her hands.

“If you place your hands on the Stone, it will know your heart …and judge it accordingly.”

“What…will it judge?”

The Fahshan stepped towards him and laid her hand on Jakan’s chest. He felt a faint ray of warmth pass through his body, but his mind teetered on the edge of disconnection.

 “It will judge how faithful you have been to Arrakesh. Does that worry you?”

A tremor of doubt shook both Jakan’s body and soul. Had he been faithful? Could he not have done more to avoid all this if he had been stronger? He had doubted Arrakesh on his choice of leader, denied his words of warning about attacking Beldror. Were they the actions of a faithful man?

Kel moved slowly towards the stone. “Jakan?”

Dovan’s face drifted into Jakan’s mind. If he did not try this, what would happen to his son? What would happen to the people of Arrakesh? He looked at Kel and nodded, a lump sticking in his throat.

“You will need to stand,” the Fahshan said. “You must be the only one near the stone.”

Again Jakan nodded and Kel lowered his feet to the floor, lifting him to a straight position. Jakan could hardly feel his legs and he was thankful that Kel did not let go of him yet. The Fahshan lifted Jakan’s hands and rested them on the stone, which stood level with his chest. With difficulty, he balanced himself against it and signalled for Kel to let him go.

Alone, leaning on the Keshfah, Jakan felt vibrations under his palms and his heart’s rapid beat stumbled. He looked up into the Fahshan’s eyes. She began to mist over before him and he looked down, willing himself to remain standing.

“Jakan, relax. The stone will not let you fall now. Let it into your soul. You have nothing to fear.”

Nothing to fear but failure and death and never seeing Arrakesh or those I love again.

The vibrations beneath Jakan’s hands grew stronger and skittered through his body, making his skin prickle. He tried not to think, but the events of the past months replayed through his mind like a dream, real yet hazy. All the pain and emotion surfaced and faded, as if a hand smoothed them out like wrinkles in a cloth. Then the Fahshan, Kel and the room disappeared. Jakan stood in a cloud alone, with the stone glowing beneath his hands. The vibration stopped and a strange warmth took its place, seeping up his arms into his chest.

What did the stone need to know from him? He could feel no questions, was unaware of any replies, yet something was happening. His mind felt like a piece of wood, crawling with beetles, scurrying this way and that.
Please Arrakesh, whatever you decide, bring my soul back to you.

A voice, low and whispering, came out of the darkness into his mind.
Why are you here, Jakanash?

He licked his lips as his mouth dried.
You
…
Arrakesh sent me.

Why?

Why? That was the question. How could he answer? He didn’t know any more.
I was told to seek Varyd.

Why?

Impatience made Jakan’s shoulders tense.
You should know! You’re part of him. You tell me.

A moment’s silence followed and Jakan worried that he had made a huge mistake. Then the voice returned, soothing and encouraging.
You are angry, Treespeaker. You feel betrayed. Tell me, who do you blame for your predicament?

Panic flooded Jakan’s mind. Who did he blame?  The face of Beldror sprang to mind. It would be easy to blame him, but he could have done no harm if the healing stone hadn’t been stolen in the first place. So Varyd was to blame? The voice in his head when he had tried to kill Varyd had told him that, and he hadn’t questioned it. But no, Varyd couldn’t have stolen the stone if he, Jakan, hadn’t taken the visitor to Fashmanek. He himself must be to blame.

For a moment, he was satisfied with that answer. Then his mind whirled as another thought took hold. Arrakesh must have known Varyd had stolen the stone, yet allowed him to leave. Arrakesh must have known that Beldror was coming, yet sent only vague signals to Jakan. Why couldn’t he have been clearer? This could all have been stopped. And now, here he was, dying on a fool’s errand of Arrakesh’s making.

It was all the fault of Arrakesh.

As soon as he thought it, Jakan fought to send the thought away. Arrakesh was his life. Without him, who would he be?
I didn’t mean that. The blame is mine!
I –

So, if Arrakesh is to blame, Treespeaker,
the voice interrupted once more,
why are you here?
His heart sank as the beetles in his mind spread to his whole body. He had betrayed Arrakesh at the moment when Arrakesh could save him. The white cloud faded into the bright light of the Fahshan’s room. Everything spun before his eyes, then vanished. Jakan felt himself falling backwards. There was nothing he could do. As blackness overcame him, he knew the Keshfah’s verdict had been reached.

The eight men walked in silence through the twilight. The wheels of their small handcarts were well oiled and moved with very little sound. As they approached within a few miles of the village of the Fifth Tribe, Putak signalled them to stop and pointed to a small clearing off to the left. They trundled the carts away from the path and moved into the shelter of the trees. The four handcarts were rested on the ground and the men sat down in a circle.

Dovan was the last to be seated. He took one last look around to make certain that they could not be seen. They couldn’t be sure that Beldror didn’t have people out here watching for trouble. Unable to judge anything that Beldror might do, the task of beating him appeared almost impossible.

Putak kept his voice low. “We’ll stay here for now. Webad and Zojel, I want you to go to the village. Wear your hoods. You mustn’t be seen. See if you can find out where the stones are being kept and if they’re guarded.” The two men nodded and stood. “Be very careful,” Putak called after them as they left the clearing.

Dovan fingered a stone on the ground in front of him. He wished he could go too, but he couldn’t risk being seen. According to Putak, Webad and Zojel’s hunting skills were unsurpassed. If anyone could pass unnoticed, they could. He would just have to wait here with the rest. One of Putak’s men pushed a small torch into the ground in the centre of the circle and lit it. Dovan stared into the flame and tried to relax.

Nocturnal noises seemed to echo in the silence; the felted beat of an owl’s wings, the rustle of a badger as it bundled its way through the undergrowth, the distant bark of a prowling fox. The men sat as if meditating, staring at the lamp’s flickering light with tensed shoulders. Dovan stole a look at Putak.

How long will they be?

As long as it takes.

Dovan glanced away, picking up an oak leaf and fingering its scalloped edge. He just wanted to keep moving, to find some way to thwart Beldror’s plans as soon as they could. Megda was alone now. Who knew what might be happening to her?

The shock of Beldror’s attempt to murder him had worn into a deepening anger against the man. If nothing else, he owed it to his mother and father to stop him. There had to be something he could do, but this waiting ate at his mind.

Shouldn’t we be –

The sudden pain that came to his head and chest was unlike anything he had ever experienced, even worse than when he found his father’s pouch. His fingernails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists and the leaf he still held cracked into pieces. What was happening? In his head he could hear screaming, a thousand voices screeching in the back of his mind, full of pain and terror.

Through a blue blur he saw Putak. At first, the old Treespeaker’s face showed only concern. Then he, too, crumpled with pain, holding his head in his hands.

Dovan swung around, peering into the trees, afraid that Beldror had discovered them. He could see no one. He became aware of the other men looking at each other in consternation. They didn’t seem affected at all. If Beldror was here, wouldn’t they feel this?

The blue turned to blackness as he lost consciousness of his surroundings. As the screaming continued, a silver shadow began to form in the darkness of his mind. It was Padhag Klen, gnarled and leafless, its branches bent like an old man’s fingers. Dovan watched in horror as each branch tip began to glow, then burst into flame, until the whole tree burned like a giant candle. The flames died with unnatural speed, but when they did, all that remained of Padhag Klen was a blackened stump.

The screaming faded to a pitiful sobbing and he once again found himself in the forest with Putak and his men. The pain had gone, but his heart thudded and he could hardly breathe. He blinked and looked about him. Putak clutched his chest, taking deep breaths and swallowing. He caught Dovan’s eye and tried to move towards him, but the effort must have made him dizzy, for he sat back and closed his eyes, shaking his head. The other men stared at them, fear shining in their eyes.

“Putak, what just happened?” The words caught in Dovan’s throat and he took another deep breath.

Putak put his hands to either side of his head and screwed up his face as if trying to force something out of his mind. At last he relaxed and shook his head. “I don’t know. Something’s disturbed Arrakesh. Did you see a tree?”

“It was Padhag Klen.”

“You’re sure?”

Dovan nodded. His stomach churned and he felt the tiny pricks of panic growing in his mind.

“Beldror. What has he done? I have to go!” He tried to stand, but his head spun and his legs collapsed under him.

Putak leaned over and laid a hand on his arm. “Calm yourself, Dovan. If anything is happening, the two men I sent will tell us when they return. You can’t achieve anything by going after them.”

Dovan took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t want to just sit here, Putak. If he’s destroyed Padhag Klen…”

“Then we’re too late to save it.” Putak gazed at him. “And if he hasn’t, then we can do nothing without a plan. We need to know what’s happening. We’ll know when the men return.”

That was too long to wait. What if this vision was a warning of something bigger? What if it meant Beldror had destroyed the whole village? They might be too late already. He had to help Megda. Dovan pushed himself to his knees. Before he had chance to steady himself, Putak grabbed his arm and pulled him down.

Sit. Wait. There is nothing we can do right now.

He glared at Putak, but the older Treespeaker’s face remained calm. Dovan winced at the frustration that burned in his chest. The vision had been so real; he could only think that they were witnessing something that was happening at the present time.
No,
he told himself,
Father saw visions that seemed real to him, but they were warnings. Maybe this was just a warning of something in the future.
He would just have to be patient, as Putak suggested. Letting out a long breath, he leaned back against a tree and shut his eyes.

The time it took for the two men to return seemed the longest Dovan had ever experienced. He sat, immersed in his own thoughts, surrounded by incomprehensible whisperings from Arrakesh. He tried to hear what he said, but he seemed to be muttering to himself, like an old man trying to work out a problem. Putak’s quiet voice broke into Dovan’s mind as he explained to the other men what had happened. He shut him out and tried to concentrate his thoughts on the village to pick up any information he could from the flow of the forest. He’d been practicing in every spare moment he’d had, hoping to discover something to help him against Beldror. The usually gentle stream, however, raged through his mind like a torrent, revealing nothing but a feeling of disquiet. His muscles stiffened with tension.

Webad and Zojel came into the clearing at a run, their breathing ragged. They bent over, their hands on their knees, gasping for air for a few moments, before Webad finally found his voice. “Putak…The Tree of the Fifth Tribe…it’s gone.”

Dovan jumped to his feet, clutching at the trunk behind him as his head began to spin again. His body shook and he felt beads of perspiration rolling down his forehead. “Now will you listen? We’ve got to do something.”

Putak put up a hand and motioned him to sit. “Dovan, please, I understand how you feel, but we need to stay calm and think this through.”

Dovan opened his mouth to argue, but Putak’s face was white and there were tears in his eyes as he again waved his hand for Dovan to sit. He lowered himself slowly to the ground, his shoulders still shaking.

Putak cast him a sympathetic look before he turned again to Webad. “Please, sit and tell us what happened.”

The two hunters seated themselves. Their faces glowed in the torchlight. “As we went towards the village, we saw a fire,” Webad said. “At first we thought it was the moon behind the trees. It was just a gleam. But then it flared up and we knew it was something huge. When we got to the edge of the village we could see The Tree. It was burning, all the branches aflame. There were villagers standing around it as if they were frozen and another man, a tall dark-haired man. He stood with his arms in the air. Then he lowered his arms and the fire went out, just like a candle being snuffed. And they all just stood there, not moving. What evil is this, Putak? Who can put out a fire just by moving his arms?”

Putak took a deep breath. He looked at Dovan as he spoke. “I have no doubt he lit the fire the same way.”

“But why? What does it achieve?” Dovan could hardly get the words out through the lump in his throat.

The Treespeaker shrugged. “To show his power, to frighten the villagers into obeying him? To weaken Arrakesh, maybe.”

Zojel shook his head. “If you’d seen the faces of those villagers, Putak…they were terrified.”

Dovan bit his lip and swiped angrily at a tear that rolled down his cheek. His thoughtspeak shot out without warning.
The man’s an animal, Putak. Why can’t we just shoot him like an animal?

No. He’s a man. Animals don’t do evil for the sake of it.

One arrow from a good shot, that’s all it would take to end this.

Putak’s face hardened. His eyes were cold.
Has Beldror’s evil affected you, or has Maganark the Destroyer escaped from his cave? To kill him that way would mark us with the same evil as him and weaken Arrakesh. If he is to die, then it must be at Arrakesh’s command. I’ve heard no such command. Have you?

But he killed…

Putak narrowed his eyes. Dovan blinked and looked away. The old Treespeaker turned once again to Webad, with a look that told Dovan the discussion was over. “Did you see anything of the healing stones?”

The man nodded, his brown curls flopping over his forehead. “There was a mound of them. The man stood on it.”

As we guessed. He’s using them to increase his power.
Putak nodded as he thoughtspoke. “What happened after the fire went out?”

Webad frowned a little and crossed his arms to hug his shoulders. “The tall man shouted that at the full moon, he would show them his true power.”

“That’s tomorrow!” Dovan sprang to his feet. “He’s going to destroy the Veil tomorrow if we don’t do something.”

Putak didn’t move. He shut his eyes and sat with his back straight for some minutes. Dovan’s breathing sped up as he waited. He started to walk towards the path, but stopped, gazing once more at Putak. He clenched and unclenched his hands, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

At last the old Treespeaker opened his eyes and returned Dovan’s gaze. “We will go to the village…” He stopped, scowling impatiently at Dovan as he started to move away. “…but not yet. We’ll wait until there’s a good chance everyone’s asleep. If we’re caught, I have no doubt Beldror will kill us. We must be patient.”

Dovan looked up at the starry sky and ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. Then he let out a long breath and leaned against a tree. The other men visibly relaxed and Dovan felt a wave of shame. Putak was their Treespeaker and he was just a teenager. He shouldn’t be arguing with him so publicly. He bowed his head in Putak’s direction. “You’re right, of course.”

Putak gave a slight smile and put his hands on his knees. “We won’t be sitting doing nothing while we wait. Beldror’s actions tonight have just confirmed our plans. We have work to do. How many bags of healing stones would you say they’d collected before you left?”

Dovan shrugged. “Twenty, maybe twenty-five?”

Putak’s brow furrowed and he bit his lip. “We have fifteen bags with us. If we fill them all with rocks and dirt, we should be able to at least halve his power. We can only hope that will be enough to stop him achieving his plans.” He climbed to his feet, the others following his lead. “Come, we’ll fill the bags by the stream. It won’t take long.”

With a determined stride, Putak set off from the clearing. The others followed, four of them lifting the carts as they went, another taking the torch from the ground. Dovan stretched, trying to release some of the tension, then followed the torchlight. Whatever Putak said, he still worried. Less than one day from now, Beldror could destroy them all.