Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles) (15 page)

“Oh, don’t worry if it’s all the way back down there, Fergus. We can always see it another time.”

“I can get it for you. It won’t take long I promise! I’m a really good climber – even Mr. Jover thinks so.”

Without waiting for a reply from the boys, he ran towards the other side of the tree trunk that they were on where a branch extended out into the air. Before they could say anything, he leapt off,
somehow catching hold of another thinner branch in the thick foliage of an elm tree crown. The three boys stood watching, their mouths open wide in horror.

“I think I’m gonna be sick…” moaned Cisco, staring at the patch of leaves below them where the boy had disappeared. There was a flash of color and he disappeared running down another path.

“What a brilliant little fellow,” mused Nedrick. “While he’s gone, are you lads hungry?” They turned to see him staring upwards at a heavily laden grapevine in one of the twisting upper branches of the tree.

In seconds, they had climbed up and edged out to the middle of the branch where the grapes hung in swollen green bunches. Before long, they were stuffing their mouths with the delicious morsels, grinning at each other as they gorged. They had barely finished eating a bunch each when they heard some rustling down below and, leaning over the edge of the branch, they saw Fergus emerge. He was jumping nimbly from branch to branch, until he reached the tall trunk of a tree opposite theirs and, despite no evidence of handholds or small branches of any sort, he scaled it easily. When he reached level with the main platform they had disembarked on, he looked around curiously.

‘Up here, monkeyboy,” laughed Cisco.

Fergus grinned up at them and, without a thought, launched himself across the divide between the two trunks to latch on to the vine ladder. Within seconds, he was up the trunk and standing next to them, panting as he unstrapped the instrument.

Cisco shook his head. “Look, kid, you
got
to warn me when you’re going to do something like that.”

“Don’t worry Mr. Cisco. I’ve never fallen in my life!”

Raf and Nedrick were both still staring white-faced at him.

“You see what you’ve done to them?” said Cisco.

Fergus smiled shyly and then quickly unwrapped Orfea to hand it to Cisco who took it gently. The smile on his face dried up and after turning the instrument around in his hands, he looked up at Raf and said, “Are you being serious? Did you make this?”

Raf shrugged. “It’s nothing special.”

“It’s pretty good,” muttered Cisco. “I’ve never seen an instrument like this. How did you get it so smooth? This wasn’t done with a knife. There isn’t a single scratch or edge on this. The whole thing looks polished or… more like…. Well, it looks natural. It’s amazing.”

‘I know!” chirped Fergus.

Raf turned to look away; he felt troubled and had lost his buzz of excitement. Orfea and Fergus had brought back disturbing memories and unanswered questions.

“I think I’m going to head home boys.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” replied Cisco. “You want to leave already? We still need to see what else this little monkey is up to. And find out how I can get his dream-job as well.” He winked at Fergus who laughed and tried to wink back at him.

“You guys go ahead. I’m not feeling so good suddenly. Think I had too many grapes.”

“Suit yourself,” said Cisco, shaking his head.

“We’ll catch up with you in few hours?” said Nedrick.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Raf. “I’ll probably see you guys at the commons later.”

“Bye, Raf,” said Fergus, a disappointed expression on his face as he walked off with the other two.

Raf silently watched them strolling along the walkway towards the distant canopy farm and then started the long descent back down
Nviro
.

N
ight was falling quickly and Nabolek had just finished his dinner when he saw the two soldiers walking towards his quarters. He stood and walked to meet them.

“Jugak.”

The short, stocky man gave a small bow by way of response and indicated the soldier next to him. “This is Nadherna.”

The other man gave a curt salute.

“And Henja?”

“On his way.” Jugak turned around and glanced back to a man who walked slowly towards them in thick leather sandals and a dark cloak. There was something awkward about his gait. He didn’t seem to walk so much as wade forwards, his thin body moving in uncomfortable jerks.

Nabolek watched him approach. “Henja.”

The newcomer didn’t reply, but merely stood slightly apart from the other two, long unkempt hair hanging loosely over his face, breathing oddly ragged breaths. Nadherna eyed him with distaste, his face twisting as if in response to a bad odor, and he moved away slightly.

Nabolek gave Henja a slightly annoyed look. “I’ve no idea why you were sent here with me, but I have a problem that needs fixing.” He pointed over their shoulders. “Go with these two. Take the path south. A woodsmith called Ferthen left earlier to return to a village called Eirdale. He cannot get there.” He leaned closer to them. “This is a sensitive matter. Should anyone else learn of it, they will become… an inconvenience.”

Jugak bowed his head. Nabolek nodded and then retreated inside his quarters.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

Henja followed the other two men for a few steps and then stopped at the sound of a noise nearby. He sniffed the air and then his head whipped to the side as he suddenly flowed forwards to the entrance of a large tree on his right.

Stretching one hand up to hold on to the frame of the doorway, he leaned inside and tilted his head upwards to breathe in deeply. Looking from side to side, he saw that the room was a mess, full of construction materials and carpentry tools, as well as some containers holding pungent paints and varnishes on a large table. Seeing that the room was empty, he pulled himself back out again and quickly followed after the other two soldiers.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

Tunit breathed out slowly and eased himself back up from behind the bench. His heart was beating furiously and he could feel sweat on his back. He sidled up to the window and moved his head a tiny bit past the window frame, just in time to catch the figure of Henja disappearing around a cedar trunk. The Miernan had sat down again at the table.

His hands were shaking and he leant back against the wall, clenching his fists to try to calm himself. What was going on? Why had those men been sent by the Foreman’s guest to stop Jan getting
home? And
who
was Henja? The man had a creepiness to him that made Tunit’s skin crawl. Jan was stronger than anyone Tunit knew, but there was something about Henja that made him nervous for the woodsmith. He had to get help - and quickly.

He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and then crept up to the open doorway, stepping lightly over the equipment and pieces of wood from the new shower fitting. Standing in the doorway, he paused. There was a strange smell, something quite unpleasant that overpowered the other smells in the room.

He looked around for the source and stopped when his eyes passed over the frame of the door. There was a small dark mark where Henja had gripped it. Almost a hand-shaped mark…

He reached up to touch it, but as his fingers made contact, the wood underneath broke off, crumbling to pieces. Tunit jerked his hand back with a sharp intake of breath. It was completely rotten.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

Raf jumped the last few feet to the ground and then dusted himself off. He made his way out towards the South pass entrance and finally arrived at his own home, sweating in the humid afternoon air. He entered the kitchen to find their farm manager, Moraes, sorting through some baskets of food.

“Hi, Moraes.”

“Why, good day, Master Gency,” replied the old man, smiling affably. “I see your classes are as irresistible as ever.”

Raf grinned back at him. “Actually, we got the afternoon off. Not that anyone was listening.” Moraes chuckled and carried on rummaging through the baskets.  “D’you know where Dad is?”

“I believe your father is taking care of Festival business on the Eastside. From what I can gather, they’re running late and your mother has been…. shall we say ‘relentless’ in her directing of the whole affair.”

“Yeah, I bet she has,” replied Raf, eyeing the fruit Moraes was sorting through. “You doing anything at the Festival?”

“I have the honor of running both your father’s fruit stall as well as singing in my small choir group on the second night.”

“Nice. Are you nervous?”

“Not overly, Master Gency. Not as much as if I were performing in such an anticipated manner as yourself, anyway.”

Raf rolled his eyes comically at Moraes. “Yeah, I’m still trying to figure out how to get out of that.”

“Get out of it? I would have thought it would be a great privilege to sing in the Festival. And you’ve always so enjoyed your music.”

“Yes, so everyone keeps reminding me. And everybody still seems to think that I’m eight years old, too.” He shook his head. “I love music, I do. Just… not standing there in front of people who are watching me do it. I’ll fall to pieces.”

“Can’t you simply close your eyes? I find I can appreciate it more like that, connect with it.” Moraes smiled faintly and turned back to the fruit. “But, you must do what is right for you. I, myself, chose to leave West Peaks because my father was threatening to send me to work on the boats out of Toviton. I wandered for many years up and down through the Forest trying out different things. I was very lucky to gain employment with your father when I passed through Eirdale. And here I’ve been since, far from boats, and rather enjoying my life.”

“I’d
love
to work on the boats.”

“Ah, but Master Gency, you do not have an inhuman fear of being on the water,” he chuckled. “Anyway, listen to me going on like an old fool. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

Raf patted the old man’s shoulder affectionately and looked down into the basket; it was a veritable rainbow of fruit, and the grapes he had eaten seemed a distant memory. With a lightning-quick move, he snatched a gold mango from the basket and quickly skipped out of the room, just ahead of Moraes’ lunge to catch him. The old man waved a gnarled fist at the boy and then went back to the table chortling softly to himself.

Raf climbed up the winding passage to his room and straddled the thick window ledge, biting into the mango. It was delicious. He felt the juice running down his chin and wiped it with the back of his arm, leaning his head back and letting his thoughts catch up with him.

‘
Just close your eyes’,
that’s what Moraes had said about listening to music. Which was weird because that was the only time Raf saw those colors. There was some sort of link between them and what Bhothy had done. But what, exactly?

The sound of voices in the kitchen indicated that his mother was home. Raf groaned and swung his other leg over the side of the window, using the vines to climb down.

I’m not in the mood to deal with her right now.

He jumped down the last bit, landing softly on the ground and paused, making a decision.

I’ve
got
to find out more. If I don’t get answers soon, I’m going to lose my mind. But there’s only one place I’ll be able to find them…

16
.
ACCIDENT

P
anting, Raf reached the hanging walls and marched through into Bhothy’s lair without knocking.

“Bhothy?” he wheezed, craning his head around the room. The huge bush had been trimmed a bit, and along one side, Bhothy had hacked it away completely to unblock a doorway. “Hello?”

There was no response so he slumped down on a leather bag and pursed his lips disappointedly. Where was the drunken old fool?

Probably hiding from me
.
Me and my questions.

He looked up at the bush again.
Although, he seemed interested enough to talk when that stupid thing grew yesterday. He genuinely didn’t think he’d done it himself.

“But it can’t have been me,” he whispered. However, he
had
been singing at the time, and those weird colors had appeared again…

I wonder if Bhothy sees colors too? Maybe that’s the secret…

Intrigued, he summoned the nursery rhyme to his mind. The familiar tune came easily and he started singing. Closing his eyes, he stared forward, straining to see the colors, almost oblivious to the song. There was nothing. Just blackness.

He stopped and cursed. When he didn’t want to see colors in his head, they popped up and almost blinded him, but now, when he actually wanted them, he couldn’t find them! What was going on? Was he looking hard enough, or in the wrong way, somehow?