Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles)

by David Lundgren

  Cisco shook his head. “I can’t believe I missed it! The first time Gency actually did something even vaguely cool and I was asleep. What lousy timing!”

  “That’s not exactly how my mother sees the whole thing,” said Raf drily. “How did you get out of it all, Ned? The Festival, I mean.”

  “Get out of it? You must be kidding me,” replied Nedrick. “I knew I’d be in it whatever – same as you - so I just waited to find out what. As it turns out, I’ll be in a trio of sorts on the second day with Shaphi and Aaryl on the marimbas. Should be fun actually; they’re both good.”

  “Shaphi Badroas? The foreign girl? I didn’t know she played.”

  “She’s fantastic on the marimbas. She can’t sing to save her life, but give her a few mallets and you can hardly see her hands move. Really talented. And really nice, too.”

  Cisco and Raf glanced at each other and then burst out laughing.

  “What?” asked Nedrick, turning bright red. “She’s good!”

  His voice jumped up on the last word and he went even more beetroot-colored. He turned around to launch an arrow at the target, hiding his burning face. The other two laughed and then notched up their own arrows. Cisco, still sniggering, let loose an arrow that flew awkwardly and glanced off the side of the target to hit a tree behind.

  “Oops. See? Can’t even hunt. What good am I to Eirdale? Might as well give up and go and live with ol’ Bhothy.”

  Raf darted a look at him. He couldn’t possibly know about his visit yesterday. Nobody had seen him go there. If he had told these two about it, they’d just want to go as well, and in a strange and rather selfish way, Raf didn’t want to share Bhothy with them.

  “We should probably get back, boys,” said Nedrick. “I don’t know about you two, but my parents are on edge right now and if I missed one of Allid’s fascinating lectures on crop-rotation, they might actually kill me.”

  Raf and Cisco rolled their eyes and nodded. They quickly gathered up the scattered arrows and made their way back down to the commons.

  . . . . . . .

  Raf was finishing up a delicious salad of pawpaws and figs, when his mother walked in to the room.

  “We’re running behind with the preparations and I need you and your classmates to help. Dr Allid informs me that you have already covered most of what he was going to teach you today, and so he’s given his permission for all of you to give Mitch a hand this afternoon.”

  Raf nodded slightly and then looked down at his food as he carried on chewing. This was the first thing she’d said to him since the argument the night before.

  “Meet Mitch up at the chimes when you’ve finished. Once you’ve done that, I’ll expect you for dinner. The Perenesons are coming around.”

  Raf shook his head. “Can’t do it. I’ve already told Nedrick I’d go hunting with him.”

  “I think you’d find it quite useful to chat to Dalton.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, when he was a younger, he spent a few years captaining a fishing trawler in one of the southern coastal villages near Sayenham. I think if you chatted to him he m-”

  “I’m going to Miern, Mom,” snapped Raf. “It’s my choice and I’ve decided. Stop interfering.”

  “But you’d love to work on the ocean, wouldn’t you? On a fishing boat? You always said so before. Why have you suddenly got this horrible idea stuck in your head?”

  “Way I see it, it’s the only way I’ll escape from people telling me what I should be doing all the time.”

  He pushed his chair back and marched outside, fuming. Behind him, he heard a whimper, and looking back through the front door to the kitchen, he saw that his mother had her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. He swore under his breath.

  . . . . . . .

  “Raf!” yelled a voice.

  Cisco came trotting up from the Brunnow residence on the west village border.

  “You coming? Guess we’re finished with Allid today.”

  Raf took a deep breath and then forced a smile on to his face. “Yup. Scooping out bird droppings, snake skins and spider webs instead. Sounds just wonderful.”

  They ran up to join the others who were all congregating on the commons by the village chimes.

  “Right you lot,” rasped Mitch, “you’re in groups of three. Each of you ‘ave six places to clean out so’s my carpentry boys can get going an’ prepare ‘em for this Festival. I expect ‘em to be shining when you’re done.” He held up a list and called out names for the groups. “Rhani Pereneson, Brody Ficus, Raf Gency. You three get going on this lot.”

  He handed them a map with a marked set of old abandoned homes. Raf groaned inwardly at his group. Brody was possibly the most boring person in the world, and as for Rhani – how typical was that? He looked around to see Cisco trying his hardest to keep a straight face as he gave a quick thumbs-up and whistling cheekily. Nedrick punched him in the shoulder to stop, but Cisco puckered up his mouth and then stared nonchalantly at the canopy above making kissing noises. Raf scowled.

  From behind him came a small sigh and Rhani, tossing her braided hair over her shoulder, gave Raf an exasperated look with her dark green eyes. Then she flounced forward past him to take the paper from Mitch and left without a word. It was going to be a fun afternoon…

  Although it was occasionally interesting poking through the deserted Ancients, Rhani ignored him completely, even when he tried to make conversation. It didn’t do much for Raf’s mood either that, because she was uninterested in working particularly hard, they took ages getting it done. When they were only on the fourth tree, Cisco and then Nedrick both came to pull faces at him through one of the windows before heading home. Raf could hear them singing a love-duet as they walked back that was obviously meant for him to hear. He dusted noisily, hoping that Rhani hadn’t heard anything.

  When they finally finished the last tree and the very last cobweb had been carefully brushed off, the three of them walked back to return the map to Mitch.

  . . . . . . .

  Raf waited until everyone had disappeared and then made his way to the very west edge of the commons where he ducked into one of the mulberry orchards and started walking down towards the banyan groves. He felt bad lying to his mother, but there was simply no way he was spending a night with the Perenesons. Especially not after having spent the last three hours with their stupid daughter. Even if she had looked stunning in her silk top…

  There were many farming patches down on this side of the village and Raf found himself walking through a quilted landscape; mulberries, oranges, banana plantations, a few scattered coffee fields, some groves of olive trees, and then finally the soft, mossy realm he was aiming for. He spotted the banyan walls that led into Bhothy’s home and, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark, he stepped inside.

  Sitting slouched on the dirty leather bag as if he hadn’t moved, was Bhothy. In an arm that was flung out sideways, he held a small jug that was tilted precariously so that some of the liquid was dripping out. A different smell occupied the room this time, an overpowering aniseed tang that reminded Raf of the small brewery that Cisco’s dad ran.

  “Hi, Bhothy.”

  The reaction from the grizzly man wasn’t quite as extravagant as the first time, and with only a small jump, he grunted and swung his head around in a wobbly arc to face Raf. He was very definitely drunk, his eyes drifting in and out of focus.

  “Ah,” he said in disappointment. “I didn’t think you would come back… hic. I hoped, at least.” He rolled his massive stomach over to the side and tried to stand up, managing only with the help of the chair next to him which was laden with clothes. The chair squeaked and groaned as he levered himself up and the clothes slid off onto the floor.

  “Oh, bugg’rit,” he stated solemnly, and then jerked his arm out to hold the jug in front of Raf. “Want s… hic… some gin? Made it myshelf. This one’s two years old, hic. Cinnamon and h-hic-honeyshuckle. Fantashtic.” Raf shook his head and Bho
thy tutted. “I might get too drunk if… hic… if I finish it all.”

  “Yes, we wouldn’t want that to happen,” said Raf carefully. “Listen, I wanted to know if you remembered anything about yesterday.”

  “Nope,” came the reply. Bhothy shook his head groggily. “Not telling anyshing about melforging.” He swung his head clumsily back to look at the small bush that was already half bare. Raf watched him pluck some leaves from the bush.

  That’s what it’s called! Melforging? So he was doing something to the plant!

  “Bhothy, how did you do it? How did you ‘melforge’ the plant?”

  Bhothy snickered. “’Melforge the plant’, he says! Pffff…” He eased himself down onto the bag and took a sip from the jug. “That was hardly mel-hic-forging, Counshil boy. But then, I’m not even a proper one. There hasn’t been… hic… one for many generations. Not even my cousin the marveloush Eliath has any id-hic… idea about it.”

  He tilted the jug right back and then shook it upside down, staring forlornly as it turned out to be empty. “What’d they teach you ‘n school, then?”

  “We don’t learn anything interesting like this at school,” said Raf. “But it’s all right. I mean, if you don’t know much about it either...”

  “Of course I know, Council boy,” muttered Bhothy. “Wouldn’t be… hic… the Bard if I didn’t. It’s about music. Using it. We know how t’play music, but… hic… we used to be able t’ do much more with it, somet-”

  “Like what?”

  Bhothy lifted a finger in irritation. “Don’t interrupt.” Then he whispered, “If you want to know what I think, well I think… hic… that music is…”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s like food for… hic… plants.” He grinned slyly at Raf, showing off a ragged set of yellow teeth.

  Raf stared blankly at him. Food? Music wasn’t a substance. You couldn’t measure it in a cup. “I don’t think that that’s quite what it is, Bhothy,” he mumbled.

  “I knew you wouldn’t get it,” said Bhothy, shaking his head solemnly and lowering himself onto the floor. “So, hic… why don’t you, explain this, Mr. smart counshil boy.” He took a breath and, closing his eyes, started to sing a common nursery rhyme.

  Raf watched as the man swayed on the spot, and then turned to the bush. Yet again, there were tiny green buds appearing along the branches! The leaves already on it were growing larger by the second as well. Then the singing stopped and Bhothy slumped backwards to lie on his back on the ground, eyes fluttering. He hiccoughed a few times and, after a few seconds, started snoring.

  Raf stared at the bush. He could still feel goose-bumps that had risen on his arms the second Bhothy had started singing. But not because the singing was particularly good; there was something else to it that he couldn’t quite grasp, something deeper than what he was hearing.

  Why hasn’t this ever happened before with that nursery rhyme? I’ve sung it a thousand times and nothing of this sort’s ever happened.

  Frustrated, he flung himself down onto the leather seat and lay back, staring at the ceiling. He pondered the events over the last few days. So much had happened. Now this crazy plant nonsense, too. And he really needed to figure out how he was going to get to Miern. And how to do it without his mother disowning him – or disowning his father for helping…

  The funny little nursery rhyme came to mind and he started humming it to himself as he lay there. His thoughts continued jumping from problem to problem, from his mother, to his father, to Wesp, then Fergus, Rhani, Bhothy, Miern and the Festival… all churning round and round in his head.

  He was so deep in thought while he lay there that when his eyes grew heavy and closed, he didn’t even notice the swell of purple that rose in the darkness.

  12. BRINCHLEY

  How did he do it? He says it’s the music, but I’ve never seen anything like that - and I’ve been around music my whole life. We all have. Anyway, he’s too drunk to be making any sense.

  Questions burned in Raf’s mind as he lay humming to himself quietly. He played the memory again and again, trying to spot any detail that might give it away. Something tickled his ear and he stopped humming. Instantly everything went black behind his closed eyes. At the very edges of his vision, he saw faint ripples of purple subside and only then realized that they had been there all the while.

  Groaning, he brought his hand up to his head and then flinched as it came into contact with something soft near his face. Instinctively, he swatted at it. Opening his eyes, the murky room came into focus. And then he gasped and jerked backwards on the seat. He was staring at an enormous bush that filled up half the room and crushed up against the ceiling ten feet above. A long, leafy branch extended towards him and it was this that he had touched.

  “Mmmmm,” came an urgent grunt from somewhere in front of him.

  Staring down, he saw that one of Bhothy’s legs was sticking out from under the bush. Raf crouched down and grabbed hold of the foot, heaving backwards. There was a wet snapping noise from the lower branches and the lower half of Bhothy’s body slid out on the moss, followed by his enormous torso.

  Groaning, Bhothy sat up and tried to rake his face and beard free of debris with clumsy hands. Peering unsteadily around, his eyebrows bunched together in confusion.

  “What…hic - where am I?” He squinted at the bush and then back at Raf. “How did I get outside?”

  “You’re not outside, we’re still in your home.”

  “But there’s a bush...”

  “Look,” said Raf. His voice suddenly sounded very high, so he coughed and tried to add, more calmly, “There’s your study area over there.”

  “What? How… did this bush get here?”

  “I don’t really know,” replied Raf quickly. “I was… asleep.”

  “Did somebody – hic - bring it inside? Wait…” He stopped and carefully bent a branch towards him and stared at the leaves. “That’s incredible!”

  “What?”

  “This is my plant… Look!” Bhothy pointed a pudgy finger at the broken remnants of the brown pot buried in the middle. “I’ve never grown it this much before, though. I didn’t think I had the ab-” He tilted his head at Raf. “Council boy, is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Me? Nothing! I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was over here!“ Raf saw that his hand was shaking and quickly hid it behind his back.

  Bhothy brushed off dirt from his tunic and heaved himself up onto the old leather bag. “I think you and I both know that’s not… hic… true.” He reached over and grabbed the pipe, putting it to his mouth and lighting it. Raf backed towards the doorway behind him, wiping an arm across his forehead.

  “You’re going?” said Bhothy. “But we need to talk about what hic… happened and how you d-”

  “I told you! It was nothing to do with me!”

  Raf tore down the passageway and as he reached the doorway, he could just hear Bhothy shouting out, “Thanks for the supply of leaves!”

  . . . . . . .

  The wagon bounced along over the knotted path and Nathyn grimaced as he slammed back down onto the hard bench again. He’d been on the go since dawn, and had travelled a good eight hours yesterday after the Council meeting had ended. He’d stopped for the first time in Hunton Daire to let the Foreman, Samuel Rosner, know that the Festival plans were on track and Eirdale had managed to source the funding. It had been a brief meeting but Samuel had been enthusiastically ringing the Hunton Daire chimes himself for a village meeting even as Nathyn left.

  After a short night’s sleep in a small fern-covered grove, he had made one last brief stop at Borilcester to rest and feed the goats before entering the huge crossroads that led into the outskirts of Three Ways.

  He smiled as he mulled over the events of the last week. Only a few days ago, they were seriously considering cancelling the whole Festival as they couldn’t afford it. It would have been unprecedented. No one had ever been unable to host
it before. But the license fee always seemed to be increasing and when you were situated so far south of the Pass, money was hard to come by. He flicked the reins and urged the goats to speed up.

  . . . . . . .

  Councilman Brinchley left his guest in the joining room and returned to his office, the silver chains around his neck clinking with a pleasant metallic sound. He touched his chin thoughtfully, playing with the delicate waxed goatee as his eyes flickered over his office. It was tastefully adorned with some Miernan paintings and ornaments, and a stuffed boar head on each wall. The bookshelf was almost buckling under the weight of the collection of iMahli ostrich egg carvings he’d collected during his many years as a Three Ways Councilman.

  There were approaching footsteps and a young boy came racing in through the door to stand breathlessly in front of him. “There’s a man come to see you, Councilman. From Eirdale.”

  Brinchley adjusted the sleeves of his coat. “Send in Councilman Tovier.” He moved quickly around to the chair on the far side of the table and took a seat, careful to let the billowing sleeves of his embroidered coat settle neatly as he rested his hands on the carved arm rests.

  Councilman Tovier of Eirdale marched in and nodded formally to his Three Ways counterpart before launching into the gretanayre which Brinchley accompanied. When they had finished, he sat down and started to speak, but Brinchley lifted his hand to stop him.

  “Before you go any further, I’m afraid I have some bad news, Councilman.”

  “Bad news?”

  “Yes,” said Brinchley. He paused and cast a thoughtful look at the shelves on the wall. “The world is moving quickly, Nathyn. We must make sure we don’t fall behind.”

  Nathyn smiled. “And that, Councilman, is one of the greatest benefits of the Festival: to connect with the world.”

  “Agreed. But it moves quicker and quicker, and there will be times when we must sacrifice and adapt just as quickly to survive.”