Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles) (16 page)

Maybe that’s it, though; I’m looking for it. I’ve never done that before. Normally I just kind of happened to notice it.

Suddenly he chuckled as he realized what he was thinking.

It’s music! That’s what Bhothy said. And you don’t look for music, you idiot, you
listen
for it...

Shaking his head at himself, he closed his eyes again. This time, he tried to ignore his eyes and instead focus on listening to the song as he sang it.

A flush of excitement enveloped him as he suddenly became aware of a glimmering wisp of color flickering in front of him. And he had goose bumps. From the top of his neck, down his back and out along his arms and legs, a million tiny hairs rose up in a prickly wave. It was weird, but exhilarating, and he let himself relax and welcomed the sensation.

OK, so how do I make the plant grow?

At the thought of the plant growing, there was a strange turbulence in front of him and a ripple of deep purple seemed to bubble and condense out of the other colors. Raf watched in fascination as it ducked and weaved invitingly.

And now? What do I do?

He tried pointing at the bush and moving his hands in a sweeping gesture towards it, but when he cracked open an eye to look, still singing, he saw no noticeable change in the bush.

Grow,
he urged.

The purple colors thickened even more. They filled his mind and raced around in front of him, but still nothing happened.

Frustrated, he stopped singing and shouted, “Grow!”

There was a crash behind him and Raf snapped out of his hazy state to spin around. The door to
the room had been thrown open, and standing in the entrance was Bhothy, swaying drunkenly.

“What’sh going on?” he stammered, holding on to the frame for support.

Raf was about to greet him when Bhothy staggered clumsily off the step and slid on the mossy floor, bumping the side of a shelf. It tipped up wildly to slam into the shelf above which jettisoning its cargo, a heavy wooden chest. It plummeted swiftly, smashing straight into Bhothy’s head with a horrible crunch. He collapsed to the floor like a felled tree and lay motionless.

Raf stared in shock and then flung himself down to the side of the unconscious man. “Bhothy!”

Already, there was an egg-sized bump on his head. He held his head down onto Bhothy’s chest. There only the faintest pulse of a heart beat. “Oh, no…”

He shook the flabby shoulders desperately, trying to jolt him awake. “Bhothy, are you OK? Wake up, please!” He stared at the man’s face and felt a wave of nausea swamp him as Bhothy’s face started turning a waxy grey.

He’s dying!

Raf wrung his hands. His father would know what to do, but he was too far away to help. It was up to Raf to do something – and right now. He seized on a desperate impulse and closed his eyes, throwing his arms forward to grab Bhothy by his shoulders. He burst into song - the first thing that came into his head, the
gretanayre
. He sang it loudly and closed his eyes. No colors come. He stopped and forced himself to calm down, ignoring his frantic racing heart. He started singing again, but this time softly. He closed his eyes and concentrated on hearing the music… and felt a shiver of relief as the colors re-appeared.

Heal him!
he yelled in his mind.

This time it was molten blue that burst into sight and filled his vision, its frenzied motions echoing his own panic.
Go!

Something odd happened. He tried to mentally push the color and felt himself move forwards in his head,
into
the color somehow, until they merged. With startled awareness, he realized suddenly that it was now a part of him - or he was a part of it; they were extensions of each other. He could
feel
it. And control it…

Without hesitation, he concentrated on Bhothy in his mind and flowed straight into the man’s body, surrounded by a billowing cloak of blue. He focused on the man and impelled the color to cover him, imagining his heart pounding, desperately willing it to beat faster and for his injured head to repair. He concentrated his mind and energy at the same thought, again and again, directing the color with one clear command in his mind:
Heal!

“Aaargh…”

The noise made Raf jump backwards in fright and his eyes flew open. Bhothy was rolling from side to side, holding his head in both hands, groaning loudly.

Raf scrambled to his feet, feeling his hands shaking with adrenalin as he watched the huge man writhe on the floor.

He’s alive…

Bhothy squinted up into the dim light and groaned, “What happened? What did y-”

Raf was out the door and gone before he could say anything else.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

In the distance, the village chimes started ringing and Leiana lifted her head from scrutinizing the schedule in front of her. Eirdale had guests, it seemed. She quickly tidied her papers up and then donned her bright green Council stole before heading out the door. The Foreman and most of the Council were over on the west side so she would have to greet the visitors herself.

More and more people were flooding towards the entrance commons and she could already hear a
swelling chorus of the
gretanayre
echoing through the trees. Leiana smiled approvingly. It was a pleasure to hear the Eirdale folk enthusiastically getting into the spirit of it all. After all, the Festival was only a few days away.

She made her way through the crowd, the people opening up to let her pass when they saw who it was, and she was greeted with the sight of a familiar figure leading the welcome. Abuniah hopped around energetically, banging on some little wooden kettle drums for the visitors who had arrived.

Leiana couldn’t help grinning with delight at the sight of them: four
dholaki
standing right there in front of her, in her village! The iMahli hand-drummers were legendary, and nobody knew that they were actually here to perform at the Festival. It was too exciting.

Two of them were seated on the back of their small wagon and two stood in front holding the goats’ harnesses. All of them watched the proceedings silently.

The crowd gradually calmed down at Abuniah’s bidding and then Leiana stepped forward. She dipped her head to the iMahlis. “Who is Edokko?”

“I am Edokko.” The shortest one, wearing an ornate ivory necklace, padded barefoot up to stand in front of her.

“I am Leiana, Councilwoman for Eirdale. Welcome! You’ve already met Abuniah, I take it.”

The little man nodded. “He would make good
dholak
.”

Abuniah bowed theatrically and was applauded by some of the crowd in front.

“He would make a good clown as well, Edokko,” she replied laughing. “But you can’t have him, I’m afraid.”

Edokko didn’t smile, but turned to say something to the other iMahlis and one jumped lightly down from the wagon to the ground. The fourth iMahli, muscular and much darker than the other three, remained sitting in the back. He was dressed in a simple leather skirt and sat staring idly at the side of the wagon.

“Where are shelters?” asked Edokko. “Water and food, also.”

Leiana, slightly taken aback by his abruptness, called up one of the youngsters standing behind her. “Aden here will show to you to your quarters. If you need anything else, please don’t hesit-”

“Coins,” said Edokko. “You must pay.”

Leiana quickly stepped closer to him, lowering her voice. “Of course, of course. I will bring it myself as soon as you are unpacked.”

Edokko nodded and then turned to issue instructions to the other iMahlis before
climbing up onto the driver’s bench. The others settled down in the back next to the dark iMahli who scowled and muttered something in iMahli which didn’t sound particularly polite.

“So.” Leiana sidled up to Abuniah smiling. “Real
dholaki
here in Eirdale! Not too bad for a little sparkle in our Festival, yes?”

Abuniah didn’t answer, an odd, uneasy look on his face as he watched the wagon move slowly away led by Aden.

Her grin faded a little and she peered at the wagon. “Doesn’t seem very friendly though, the one in the back. Perhaps he’s some sort of chief or warrior type? He’s certainly big enough.”

She shrugged as Abuniah offered no comment and added, “I think a pre-Festival warm up feast is called for tonight to welcome our guests, don’t you?”

“It… would be…” mumbled Abuniah distantly, following the wagon’s progress with a dark look until it disappeared around a tree. Then, noticing Leiana watching him, he nodded. “I… yes, of course. It would be poor of us not to.” He turned around to the small crowd. “Master Hetton, if you would do the honors?” One of the older boys ran out of the crowd towards the village chimes.

Leiana started walking away. “I’ll speak with Orikon and see what he can catch us for dinner.”

“He actually left a while ago. I’m not sure where. You’ll have to speak to one of the other hunters,
Councilwoman.”

“No matter. The Festival is finally firing up, and having these
dholaki
here will surely stoke everyone’s excitement! We need to let everybody know the good news.” She patted Abuniah enthusiastically on the shoulder. “It all starts!”

“Did that chief mentioned something about paym-”

“Don’t you worry about that, Abuniah,” she interrupted.

He eyed her suspiciously, but she raised her eyebrow at the unspoken question and he dropped it, watching her depart through the crowd.

17
.
CHERRYBLOSSOMS

S
plutter
.

Jan woke up choking on what turned out to be a collection of soggy petals that had fallen onto his face while he was asleep. Coughing and spitting on the ground, he brushed them off his head and face and then retrieved his backpack which was almost buried under the carpet of cherry blossoms.

They were falling in great thick sweeps, buoyed on the wind, and all around him he could hear the whispering of millions of petals floating down from the canopy. There were other areas in the Forest where certain trees grew in abundance like this dense grove of cherry-blossoms; some created lovely scenery, but nothing was quite as queer, or charming, as this deluge of soft pinkness.

He lifted his head and breathed in the fresh air. It had a distinct, fruity fragrance to it, a delicate sweetness. Jan sniffed again. Actually, there was something else in the air, something underneath that wasn’t so pleasant, something moldy or rotten. He looked around, breathing in and found that the smell emanated from his right somewhere, so he searched the area where it seemed strongest. He walked past one of the trees three times before he finally realized that the smell originated there. It was a thick tangle of banyans that snaked their way up between the cherry blossoms.

It absolutely reeked up close, although the outside of the banyans seemed healthy, so he reached up to a crack in the bark and ripped a section off. The smell immediately intensified and he stepped back. The inner wood was a light brown color and where he had just broken into it, it immediately oozed thick green liquid. Digging into the wood with his hunting knife, he saw that it was rotten the whole way through.

“Bit of a stink comin’ from that, eh?” said a voice.

Jan turned to see a short, rough-looking man standing not ten feet from him with his thumbs tucked behind his belt. He was dressed in a military uniform.

“Who are you?”

“Name’s Jugak. Travelling to a village south of here,” the man replied.

Jan felt he had handled the meeting rather clumsily. “Apologies for my abruptness. I myself am heading down to Eirdale.”

The man casually chewed one of his nails. “Would you be the woodsmith Ferthen?”

Jan nodded, perplexed, and was about to ask how he knew, when he saw Jugak’s eyes flicker for a fraction of a second to something behind his left shoulder. Everything happened at once. Jan saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and spun his body around just in time to find another man charging at him with a short-sword. Jan jerked his torso out of the way, feeling the blade slice through the front of his tunic, just missing his stomach. The attacker, expecting to meet resistance, stumbled past him and tripped over the foot that Jan instinctively stuck out, to land sprawled on the ground.

“Get up you fool!” hissed Jugak who had now drawn his own sword, a curved saber, and was slowly circling Jan. The fallen man scrambled to his feet and moved around the other way, dusting off his tunic.

Jan stared back at them, trying to keep both in his line of sight.  “What do you want with me?”

Jugak feigned a lunging stab, and Jan jerked backwards from him but realized that he’d lost sight of the other man. He spun on one heel and just managed to twist out of the way of another attack,
except this time, as the man stumbled past him, he swung a heavy fist as hard as he could onto the man’s arm, feeling a wet snap.