Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles)

by David Lundgren

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

  Splutter.

  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.

  The man dropped the sword and fell to the ground, screaming in pain and holding his arm which was bent backwards at an unnatural angle. “He broke my arm! The dog broke my arm!”

  “Get up!” barked Jugak keeping a wary eye on Jan.

  A strange hissing suddenly became audible over the noise of petals and Jan stared as a new figure moved into view. It was a third man, but not dressed in uniform as these two were. He wore a dark brown outfit, and had long greasy hair that hung loosely around his face. The way he walked, a sort of unnerving swimming motion, along with the odd hissing noise he was making, sent cold shudders up Jan’s spine. The hissing became louder as the man lurched between the trees towards him.

  Jugak beckoned with his saber. “Help us, Henja! He’s already broken Nadherna’s arm!”

  The pink petals from the wind-shaken cherry blossoms were still falling thickly all around them, but it was the ones that landed on this new man that caught Jan’s attention. As he came closer and closer, Jan saw that he wasn’t making the hissing noise himself. It was made by the petals which fell on his arms and face, for, as they touched his bare skin, they curled up and shriveled into dust.

  Jugak pointed his saber at Jan. “Get him!”

  Henja, still wading forward slowly, tilted his head and peered down at the moaning form of Nadherna. When he reached him, he crouched and stretched out a delicate, pale hand to touch Nadherna’s injured arm.

  Nadherna shrieked. It was a piercing noise, like a boar being slaughtered. His legs sprung out to straighten and his back was wracked by a violent spasm so that his head was wrenched backwards.

  “Leave him!” Jugak’s face turned white and the saber he was holding out in front of him started shaking erratically.

  Nadherna vented a last chilling wheeze and then didn’t breathe again. Every cord in his neck stood out as he convulsed, his face turning purple and then slowly grey as his eyes glossed over.

  Jan felt bile rise in his throat and fought to control it, stumbling backwards and knocking against the tree behind him. He edged sideways as quickly as he could along the trunk. Jugak was backing up, swearing obscenely as Henja calmly stepped over Nadherna’s body and lurched towards him.

  Jan lunged forwards as Jugak staggered past and seized him by the shoulders. “What did he do to that man?” he shouted.

  Jugak gibbered in panic, trying to turn his head back to see Henja, so Jan swung his arm back and slapped his face with such force that the man spun in a half circle and landed on the ground, face-first. He reached down to
yank the man up again and yelled, “Who are you people? What do you want with me?!”

  Jugak swallowed. “We were sent! By Na-“

  He stopped. His head arched back and he screamed. It turned into a wet gurgle and then quickly tapered into a thin rasping sound. Jan stared at his reddening face and then heard the hissing noise again. He saw a slender hand appear and slide softly around Jugak’s neck from behind, the fingers moving gently along the taut skin which instantly swelled up and turned blotchy and grey.

  With a soft creak, the body of Jugak crumpled to the ground. And as it did, Jan was left staring into Henja’s eyes. His thin, dry lips were open and he looked at Jan with an almost tender look on his face. Jan couldn’t move. His eyes followed Henja’s hand as it lifted slowly. The thin fingers reached up towards Jan. He could see each individual cherry blossom land on the skin of the hand and die. It was close enough for him to even see the tiny movements in the network of blue veins in his hand as blood coursed through it.

  A fingertip brushed against the skin of Jan’s cheek and everything burst into pain. He felt a piercing stab up through his back and head, and tried to scream, but he couldn’t. Every muscle in his body contracted, crushing his lungs, crushing his throat. He could feel a building pressure in his head, threatening to rip it open. The pain was unbearable. A wall of agony closed in on him, shutting down his senses.

  A faint whistle and a wet thud right in front of him brought a small wave of release. A ragged gasping breath escaped from his mouth and he collapsed to his knees. Through stinging eyes, he saw Henja struggling with something. Something in his chest. An arrow! The man was growling as he tore at the arrow and Jan could hear a wet sizzling noise as his fingers grasped the wooden shaft. He watched as it wilted and then crumbled in his hand. He knew he should have been terrified, but was only able to observe it with a dull, detached interest.

  Henja was definitely injured though. He covered the wound with one hand as he peered into the bushes behind Jan, still growling softly at the back of his throat. There was a thick stream of dark blood leaking down between his fingers.

  In a tiny, dwindling part of his consciousness, Jan was aware of another slim arrow that suddenly exploded from Henja’s chest, followed by yet another in quick succession and the man stumbled backwards out of view.

  The numb feeling inside him grew and Jan crumpled forwards onto the pink carpet. A shadow moved over him. Someone spoke in a muffled voice, but Jan’s mouth wouldn’t move and he couldn’t answer. He slipped out of consciousness.

  . . . . . . .

  Raf woke up late the following morning having spent the night in the mossy grove again. He hadn’t been able to sleep for ages after what had happened with Bhothy and he still had questions circling round and round in his head. How had he done it? The man had been dying!

  He strolled back towards the village, dreading the inevitable encounter with his parents and their questions about where he’d been last night. He dragged his feet as he found his way onto the path leading up to his home and then saw Nedrick hailing him from further down towards the commons.

  He jogged up to Raf and looked at him curiously. “There you are. You completely disappeared yesterday. Where’d you go?”

  “Oh, just for a long walk. I needed to get some stuff off my chest.”

  “Mm-hmm,” replied Nedrick, nodding carefully. “You sure everything’s all right? You look exhausted.”

  Raf nodded. “Fine. Didn’t sleep well, that’s all. What are you up to?”

  “You don’t know?” asked Nedrick.

  “No. What’s happened?”

  “You’ve missed everything, mate. First, we had some visitors yesterday: dholaki, Raf! Real, live iMahlis here in Eirdale!”

  “No…”

  “It’s true! I wanted to hang around and see them play this morning, but then everything went crazy because Dad arrived back from Three Ways this morning and the Council went straight into an emergency meeting. I didn’t even know he was back until I saw his cart at home; he must have driven through the night. Something bad’s probably happened, but you know they won’t tell us anything till the meeting’s finished. They were going to put on a huge feast for the dholaki later this evening, but there’s probably going to be a meeting before that about whatever’s happened. That’s why I came to find you.”

  “Where’s Cisc?”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot about Brunnow. He’s taking a junior group out tracking.”

  “The lucky git!”

  “No kidding. Orikon went off somewhere yesterday, so Cisc is covering for him. It’s been a crazy morning.”

  “Sounds it,” muttered Raf. “Well, we better head up there then, and see what the story is.” As they started off, the village chimes suddenly jolted into action again.

  “Guess we’re right on time,” said Raf. “I hope there’s something to eat, I’m starving.”

  “I’m not so sure,” said Nedrick, looking worried.

  “Why not? What’s wrong? I’m sure w-”

  “Just listen, you idiot. Don’t you know your own village chimes yet? That’s the emergency announcement.”

  Raf blushed and covered it up by peering at some groups of villagers ahead of them who had quietened at the chimes. As one, they all turned and made their way towards the Council offices.

  When the boys arrived, a big crowd had already built up and there was a rumbling of anxious voices everywhere. They pushed their way towards the front until they reached an area in front of the Council chambers. The Foreman walked out, followed by the Council and they came to stand out on the dais above the crowd. Raf saw his mother standing next to a very pale Councilman Tovier, a furious look on her face.

  The Foreman rested a hand on the ledge in front of him. He looked down briefly, and then said in a loud voice, “News has reached us this afternoon from Three Ways. It is with a heavy heart that I tell you… the Festival has been cancelled.”

  Raf would have expected an explosion of outrage from the crowd, but instead, there was silence as hundreds of people drew their breaths in shock and simply stared up at the Foreman.

  “Believe me when I say that no-one is more distraught about this than me and the other Council members, and we plan to register our strongest disapproval of what has happened and learn how this all came about. Nonetheless, the die is cast. We will not be hosting the Aeril Festival this year.”

  He looked bleakly at the crowd and then turned to lead the Council back into the chambers. Raf and Nedrick stared at each other.

  “Man, I wish I could hear what they were talking about.”

  “Hmm...”

  Raf turned to him. “What are you thinking, Ned?”

  “I don’t plan to miss out on this and I think I know a way for -”

  “Don’t even tell me; just go and I’ll follow.”

  Nedrick nodded and walked nonchalantly away from the stunned crowd towards a bamboo thicket that grew alongside an olive tree. He looked around as they approached and then, seeing that no one had noticed them, quickly scrambled through the dense bamboo poles to the side of the olive tree followed closely by Raf.

  “All right, Gency. Feeling agile?”

  “Right behind you.”

  They easily scaled the wrinkled olive trunk to where it branched and spread out, following a thick branch that grew back towards the Council sequoia. With the dense wiry leaves to hide them, the boys crawled along until they reached where the branch ran closest to the sequoia trunk.

  “What now?” whispered Raf. “We still can’t get in from here.”

  “We don’t need to, idiot,” replied Nedrick. “Just shut up and hold your ear to one of these room vents.” He straddled the branch and lent down low to hold his head against a small round opening in the tree bark.

  Raf punched him on his shoulder and then looked to find another one of the vents which served as the airing holes for the windowless Council rooms. He eased himself up a few feet along a ridge in the bark and fo
und another one. As soon as he put his ear to it, the sound of voices drifted up. He smiled slyly at Nedrick who tapped his head and winked.

  18. DISEASE

  “- doesn’t matter though, it’s still unacceptable, Tarvil.”

  “I know, Leiana, I know. I’m merely pointing out that Brinchley obviously feels he has a duty to the Forest as a whole and has taken this decision t-”

  “Rubbish,” came the voice of Dr Allid. “He’s done this to further his own ends – nothing less. That man would sell his own family to make a few coins.”

  “He’s always been greedy,” snapped Leiana, “and now he’s blatantly gone behind our backs to steal the Festival from us. What did he think? That he wouldn’t be caught?”

  Nedrick looked up at Raf and grimaced uneasily.

  “Which is why, Leiana,” came the calming voice of the Foreman, “we must approach him and get to the bottom of all this. It doesn’t make sense at all. Even bearing in mind the incident with the trader. I’ve met Councilman Brinchley many times, and although I don’t care for him personally, I think this is beyond him.”

  “How can you be so blind, Eliath?” replied Leiana again. “It’s not just him, it’s that scheming Allium who’ll be behind this. You know he’s always had an appetite for power.”

  “Leiana, dear, calm down. What we need to do now is make sure we look after our people here, and send up a party to see what exactly has happened. Until then, there’s no point ranting uselessly.”

  “I hate t’change the topic,” came the frail voice of Jover, “but I’m rather worried about the strange reports aroun’ some of our out-lying farms. I’ve sp-”

  “Do you really think it’s the time to be bringing up farming issues, Jover? Now, when so many other more urgent things are snapping at our heels?”

  Raf rolled his eyes at his mother’s acid tone, and Nedrick smothered a chuckle with his hand.

  “Beg your pardon, Leiana, but I ‘spect you wouldn’t ‘ave that same sentiment when this time next year we suddenly ‘ave a food shortage an’ widespread disease.”