“Stop!” he screeched. “Too loud!”
The Foreman sat there with his face twisted in discomfort and his hands covering his ears.
“Sorry,” said Raf quietly, holding up a hand apologetically.
“Sorry?” shouted Cisco, opening one of his eyes to glare at him. “Sorry?! You have to give us some warning before you deafen us with your stupid tree-flute, you IDIOT! I almost fell off the branch!”
There was a choking noise from the Foreman and Raf looked around to see him suddenly roll back onto the ground and burst into laughter. After a bit, he pointed at Cisco as if to say something, but saw the boy’s startled expression and collapsed again, doubled over.
Raf bit his lip and held back a chuckle; he’d never seen the Foreman like this before.
Eventually, when he could breathe again, the Foreman sat up and dried his eyes. “How did you know how to do that?”
Raf shrugged uncomfortably. “A guess. How much more do we have to do it?”
The Foreman gave him a curious look. “You are full of surprises these days, mysterious Master Gency.” He looked back at the tree thoughtfully. “A few more times to make sure, and then we should head back. I reckon that was so loud they’ll have heard it in Miern.”
. . . . . . .
Leiana looked up at the canopy to gather herself. The sun was successfully pushing back the remnants of the storm to send slivers of light streaking through the commons, seemingly at odds with the somber atmosphere of the congregation. She stood up on the dais and waited for the crowd to quieten before addressing them.
“As you now know, Vince Ghitral died. It is the manner of his death though, that must be brought to your attention. Something is indeed wrong with our beloved Forest – a disease of some sort that is affecting the trees. In a few areas, it has even rotted the branches in the ground, which is what happened to Vince.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “There are many areas around Eirdale and the rest of our Forest that are afflicted, so my advice is to stay within the village, which is still completely safe. In the meantime, the Foreman is calling an Overcouncil so that, together with our fellow Council members, we can solve this problem.”
At this, silence fell over the commons. Tarvil stepped up behind Leiana and put a hand on her shoulder. Leiana smiled briefly at him and lifted her voice again. “We don’t have Vince’s body to take to the burial chute, but it has already found its way to the Forest floor, so all that remains is to bid farewell. Abuniah, will you lead us?”
Abuniah nodded and stood, but hesitated as the tall, slim figure of Arige Ghitral, Vince’s sister, emerged from the crowd. She had a shock of red, wavy hair, and eyes that were raw from crying. Abuniah walked up to embrace her. “Do you want me to lead?” he asked softly.
She shook her head and smiled briefly. Abuniah nodded and moved away from her to sit down. The other villagers, one by one, followed suit until they were all seated, their heads either bowed or looking at Arige. She closed her eyes and started singing.
The dirge she sang was an ancient ayre, haunting but sweet at the same time. The rest of the crowd joined in after a bit and the sound echoed through the branches of the trees, drifting down amongst the villagers like a soft, soothing blanket.
A while later, spent and weary, people were gradually getting to their feet and offering condolences to Arige when suddenly a deep boom rolled through the Forest. They all looked up at the Council, feeling the rumbling note vibrate up through the ground under their feet. Leiana gave Tarvil a relieved look and Abuniah, nodding resolutely, climbed up to the dais.
“All right, folks,” he said. “We will soon have a group of guests the likes of which we’ve never seen. Hunters and farmers over here with me. The rest of you head home, and please, please, be careful.”
23. ALLIUM
Foreman Allium jumped up from his desk as the faint booming note rang through the office, resounding off the walls. He rang a bell on his desk and immediately, a young boy entered.
“Sir?”
“Fetch Councilman Brinchley immediately.”
A few minutes later, Brinchley hurried through the doors. “You called for me, Foreman?” he asked nervously.
“Have you made the announcement?”
“About the travel ban? Yes, Foreman. I spoke to the Council and they’re making sure our villagers know about these collapses down south. It should put off any interest in travelling to Eirdale.”
“Any objections in the Council to us holding the Festival here?”
“A few complainers, Dawsley in particular. He wanted to know how it was that we seemed so well prepared for it already.”
“You dealt with it?”
“I gave him the usual nonsense about needing to develop quickly for the future.” Brinchley stroked his goatee. “This news of the collapse was incredibly convenient, sir. How did you find out about it so quickly?”
“Even in Eirdale there are some high up who appreciate what I am trying to,” replied Allium. “But don’t let that concern you. Now that we have set ourselves up perfectly here in Three Ways for the Festival, I’m more concerned with how you’ve failed me with the Eirdalers.”
“Failed you, Foreman?” stammered Brinchley. “Is this something to do with the noise th–”
“You imbecile!” Allium snapped. “Of course it is! That noise was the sound of Eirdale showing its claws. I gave you one small task which was to convince that idiot Tovier that this was the only way forwards. We even had the incident with the assault on the trader to help you!”
“But, Foreman, I did what you asked and he completely bought the story!”
“As they have taken it upon themselves to call an Overcouncil, I’m assuming that you did not, in fact, sell a very good story. Your small problem has just grown into a larger, and considerably more complicated, one.”
“I… my problem? I…” Brinchley’s chins wobbled underneath as he stuttered indignantly, “But Nabolek assured me he would handle it!”
“Oh he did, did he? Delegating your duties to the Miernan? Interesting.” Brinchley stepped back at Allium’s icy tone. “So, how are you going to fix this disaster, Councilman? This couldn’t have come at a worse time with the Festival only three days way! I expect you to find a way to ensure there are no problems until at least after the Festival finishes. By that stage, I will be ready to speak to them all about my plans and dissolve the Overcouncil, anyway.” He flicked his hand towards the door. “Go! See to it. And do not disappoint me.”
Brinchley nodded and quickly left the office, walking straight up to Nabolek’s quarters. When he arrived, he couldn’t find the man and searched until he spied him in the pool that the woodsmith Ferthen had built. He was lounging back against the side, eyes closed, a tankard of mead in one hand. As Brinchley approached, his eyes flicked open.
“Ah, Councilman. What can I do for you? You seem anxious. Anything to do with that noise?”
Brinchley fiddled with his greased goatee. “I thought you said you would deal with our… loose end.” He whispered the last bit, looking around suspiciously.
“And I did, dear Councilman. Losing two of my men in the process, I’ll have you know. It seems you were right about these southern barbarians. A good thing I was here to offer assistance.”
“Well, it didn’t work! Ferthen must have told them everything because they’ve called an Overcouncil which is huge trouble for us.”
Nabolek sat up, splashing water out the pool as he put his drink down. “The carpenter made it back there? He wasn’t supposed... Henja assured me he was as good as dead.”
“Well, somehow they’ve found out something and they’ve called this meeting of all the villages. It’s likely that we’ll be contacted - or even visited - soon. If they came here, they would disrupt the whole Festival, and almost certainly wreck our other plans.”
Nabolek lay his head back down, closing his eyes. Brinchley stood fiddling impatiently and then jumped as the Miernan suddenly sat u
p again and climbed out of the pool to grab hold of a towel. He looked over his shoulder and whistled, and a soldier instantly appeared and trotted up to them.
“Fetch Lethar.” Nabolek turned back to Brinchley. “I will take care of it from here.”
“But how? I can’t see them taking too kindly to your presence at the Overcouncil.”
Nabolek walked away without acknowledging him, and disappeared into his quarters.
. . . . . . .
Cisco yawned deeply and stretched his arms up into the air, eyeing the distant masses of clouds that were lit up in dark pastels of the fading sunset.
“Can we take a bit of rest before we go any further?” he asked sleepily.
“Actually, I think we should sleep here tonight, boys. It’s getting very dark and I’m not going to risk an accident happening with the last few slides back to Nviro; it would ruin what’s been a successful day. Speaking of which,” he added, laying the rope down on the decking, “I must offer my thanks, Fergus for your assistance today. And to you Raf for your unexpected intuition. If that’s what it was.”
He smiled at them all and then moved to crouch down on the edge of the decking where the netting was wound tightly around a corner post. Fergus scrambled up into the dark branches above them and disappeared for a bit, so Raf and Cisco wandered over to the side and stared out at the star-sprinkled sky. A few minutes later, Fergus came back down with a handful of succulent monkey-ear mushrooms.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said, walking up to the Foreman and handing them to him.
The Foreman smiled at the boy and put them down beside him. “Thank you, Fergus. I’ll eat in a while.”
“Are you all right, sir? You’ve been quiet since we left the Ash-knell.”
The Foreman sighed and looked fondly at the young boy. “I am sad, Fergus. I lost a friend today and in all the panic of finding the Ash-knell, I haven’t spared even a moment to think about him. Vince was a good man; one of the best. I’ve known him my whole life and we grew up together in Eirdale.”
Raf heard the conversation from where they were standing and felt a twinge of regret. “I forgot all about that,” he confessed to Cisco, who nodded back at him uncomfortably.
There was a deep humming and they turned to watch the Foreman who had started singing softly. He stood there, a melancholy silhouette against the pale light of the moon. It was an old song that Raf didn’t know and the boys sat quietly, trying not to intrude. There came a point though, when the Foreman had been singing for a while, that Fergus softly joined in.
When there was no reaction from the Foreman, Cisco and Raf looked at each other and then joined in softly themselves. Cisco wasn’t particularly confident and merely hummed along, but Raf sang aloud, his alto voice complementing the Foreman’s bass beautifully. Their voices bloomed in harmony, filling the damp Forest air. He faltered a little as it occurred to him that he’d never sung in a small group like this with the Foreman, but the gloomy dusk was a cloak and he shrugged off the bite of nervousness.
When his eyes inevitably closed, a surge of exhilaration took hold as wavering tongues of multicolored flame rushed towards him. Goose-bumps covered his skin as he felt himself drawn into the colors, embracing them, merging with them as he had done before with Bhothy. With the intense connection made, he grew aware of the colors in a deep, personal way, feeling himself buoyed by their energy and beauty, losing himself in the music.
The sound of talking behind him caught him by surprise, and with the awkward disorientated feeling of someone awoken from a deep sleep, he opened his eyes. Cisco and Fergus sat watching him, grinning, as Raf quickly tried to gather his wits about him.
“Well, Gency,” said Cisco, “I hate to tell you this, but that was actually rather nice.”
“Yeah!” gushed Fergus who was sitting on the decking, hugging his knees. “You sing really well, Raf.”
“Oh… thanks,” he muttered, feeling a burning spread across his face.
“You gave me goose bumps there from the second you started singing,” said the Foreman from where he was standing. “I feel really quite moved by that. Strangely -” he looked up at the darkened sky, searching for the right word, “- happy.” He smiled, but frowned a little at the same time.
Raf fidgeted nervously and then quickly walked over to the netting behind him. He lay down on his side facing away from the others. But not long after, footsteps approached.
“Nice job!” whispered Cisco mischievously. “I think you’ve just earned yourself quite a few public performances after that. No way the Foreman’s not going to tell Ottery about it!”
Raf glowered at him. “Shut up, you idiot. The Festival’s not happening, unless you’ve forgotten. And by the time there’s another one, he won’t remember anyway.”
“Don’t count on it,” came the amused voice of the Foreman.
Cisco laughed silently into his hands and then sprang backwards to avoid a punch from Raf, before settling down on the netting and making himself comfortable for the night.
. . . . . . .
Ramsey glared in irritation at the two boys to his left. “Shhh!”
They quietened and looked sullenly down the path. In the distance there came a soft clinking noise and as they watched, a wagon appeared around the bend of an Ancient with three passengers. Ramsey stepped in front of them with his hands raised and the cart jerked awkwardly as it slowed over the uneven ground and drew to a stop.
Two of the foresters were men dressed in long tunics of tan-colored fabric. One had a bushy white beard underpinning a wrinkled face and light blue eyes, and the other was similar, although much younger, version. Next to them sat a middle-aged woman with long tumbles of mahogany hair, dressed in a dark grey robe with a green stole around her neck.
Ramsey bowed to them and started singing the gretanayre. The new-comers scanned the area curiously, but then disembarked from the wagon and responded formally. When they had finished, the younger man stepped forwards frowning. “Good morning, friend.”
“I am Ramsey.” He bowed. “Welcome to Eirdale.”
“I am Trenz Wrighk, Foreman of Upper Radley. This is my uncle, Foreman Wrighk of Saanenbury.”
The woman dipped her head elegantly. “I am Bilotusia Kess, Forewoman of West Peaks. But, tell me, why has the Ash-knell been sounded? There had better be a good reason for us to have sped here recklessly through the night, Councilman.”
“Oh, I’m not in the Council,” replied Ramsey. “My role is to ensure you are escorted safely to the village.”
“Safely, you say?” said the old man.
“Yes, Foreman Wrighk. I ask that you trust me; all will be clearer when the Overcouncil convenes.”
The three looked at each other and the lady nodded. “Lead on.”
Ramsey bowed again and then turned around and nodded at one of the boys. “Marc here will lead you. Do not stray from the route he takes, please.”
. . . . . . .
A short, lean soldier stood nervously in the shadows under a low-hanging olive branch as Nabolek sauntered up to him.
“Being in the right place at the right time, Lethar, is a useful skill to have in life. Jugak failed me and paid the price. I am promoting you to Captain,” said Nabolek. “I have word that criminals are on their way to cause havoc with my Festival.” He looked at the soldier from underneath his thick hooded eyes and lowered his voice. “Take a division of men and make sure that access to this village from the south is challenging. The more challenging, the better.”
Lethar saluted. “Understood, sir.”
“If any local villagers try to travel south defying the ban, you know what to do?” The Captain nodded again. “Your promotion will be short lived should you fail in this task, Lethar. Don’t disappoint me.” The soldier saluted again and jogged off.
Nabolek watched him disappear towards the soldiers’ quarters and then strolled back towards the three richly dressed Miernans. One of them saw him coming and beckon
ed to Nabolek to join him out of ear-shot of the others.
“Is everything all right, Nabolek?”
“Fine, Senator Hysik,” replied Nabolek. “More than fine, even.”
“How so?”
“As it turns out, our friend Allium employed some underhand measures to have the Festival here in his town but rather bungled it. There are now issues with disgruntled foresters south of us. Some are even getting rather violent.”
“And how is this ‘more than fine’?”
Nabolek smiled. “I now have an excuse for the two hundred soldiers you’ve lent me. They will be official peace-keepers when they get here.”
The Senator nodded and sipped his drink. “I have every faith in you, Nabolek. I will keep these old fools happy and when your work here has fed my funds sufficiently, our time will come.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. ”And as for our friend, early retirement beckons.”
They turned at footsteps behind them and saw the other two Senators approaching.
“What’s this about an early retirement, Hysik?”
Nabolek laughed. “I was saying that I hoped you found this forest to your liking, Senators. It would be a perfect place to settle once you are tired of the relentless pace of Miern, yes?”
“It is really rather lovely out here, true. I wasn’t sure what I would make of this Aeril experience and will admit that I had misgivings about spending any time on this infamous forest platform, but I’ve actually found it to be thoroughly delightful. Which will make our trip back next week all the more unpleasant.”
Nabolek dipped his head. “Actually, I won’t be accompanying you, Senators. I think I’ll remain here for a while to bring Allium up to scratch on his new role. That is, if you intend to endorse the barony request.”
“We’ll see,” replied the other Senator gruffly. “This Festival is yet to even start. Although, so far, I will say that this Allium appears to be competent. Let’s hope you don’t ruin this opportunity as you have so many back in Miern, Nabolek. Your cousin’s patience is not bottomless.”
Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles) Page 16