Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles)

by David Lundgren

  Seeking inspiration, he drew a calming breath and closed his eyes. It was the gretanayre again that came to mind and he started singing it softly.

  The storm that exploded into his mind almost knocked him over. Countless colors streaked back and forth in frantic spirals, forming a seething vortex that filled the room. With no effort, he sank straight into them and become part of them and felt his awareness, his presence, grow. As it did, the room shimmered into perfect clarity and he realized that it wasn’t the individual rocks that were instruments – the whole room was an instrument! The tunnel he’d come through was also part of it, some sort of channel for the sound. Every one of the rocks suddenly had a different character that he could now understand, a tone or timbre that set it apart from the others, but would blend together perfectly with the rest.

  He reeled as the pure energy of the room filled him. He could feel the frenzy of colors spinning and curling through the air, like a thousand sparkling butterflies. He dived into them and felt himself spreading through the room, soaking it in color, immersing the rocks in different hues as he danced and wheeled around them.

  A part of him registered that the rocks themselves were now emitting a noise, a deep humming sound, serving only to intensify the colors which were almost boiling with energy. Faster and faster they moved, creating a giant whirlpool in the middle of the room, with Raf at its centre.

  The sheer volume of the sound threatened to crush him to the floor and a glimmer of unease streaked through his mind at the raw power which was swelling to bursting point around him. He struggled against the fierce desire to continue in his mind and, inch by inch, detached himself from the connection, feeling the roar of sound dwindle.

  He realized he was still singing and reluctantly quietened to a whisper before stopping altogether. Peeling open his tightly shut eyes, he stared up at the darkness above him, aware of pounding echoes still reverberating around the room, bouncing off every surface. They were beautiful sounds, and their fading away brought with it a sinking feeling of emptiness. All that was left was a deep, almost inaudible, throbbing from the floor. Raf also heard something else underneath it all though, a whimpering noise behind him. He tried to find the source and when he turned around, had to bite back a gasp of shock. The ishranga was standing not ten feet from him.

  She was leaning against the wall, her head tilted backwards, the dull light catching and illuminating her eyes which were completely rolled back in her head. Her throat was moving oddly and for a moment, Raf thought that she was choking. Casting nervous glances around the room for her guards, who were nowhere to be seen, he stepped up to her and softly tapped her shoulder. Her head dropped down and he jumped back, watching as her eyes gradually, in fits and starts, revolved downwards until they were looking at him. Her breathing was fast and irregular and, even in this half-light, he could see that her skin was covered in goose-bumps.

  She slowly calmed down, her eyes not leaving his for a second. When she spoke, it was a strained rasp. “How are you here?”

  Raf quickly held his hands up. “I’m sorry! I was trying to help Tiponi, but followed the col-… er… I found this place.”

  Shima’sidu broke her gaze and glanced past him to the rock pillars behind. “The stones… how? I have never... I have heard stories, but… never have I heard them sing so.”

  “I… don’t know,” replied Raf, biting his lip. “I told you, I don’t really understand it. I just kind of saw how they worked and… and then I tried to…”

  “You… you are truly ishranga.” She held up a thin fingered hand, the thick bangle of beads rattling gently against her ebony skin. “The go-between did not lie.”

  “Well, I think I did heal his shoulder, ishran-”

  “You must not call me this!” she whispered. “No more. To you, I am Shima’sidu,” she lowered her head, “ishranga.”

  Raf drew a sharp breath. She was bowing to him!

  “Do not be afraid,” she said, her eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “You are safe here, ishranga.” She suddenly raised her arms in the air and ululated wildly, the cry echoing around the room before grabbing his hand. “You must come with me! I must know you more.”

  She pulled him towards the opposite end of the room and he relented, letting her lead him through a small archway of rock that led up a long, winding flight of stone stairs before opening out into a large, murky room. There was a sole candle on the floor. One side of the room’s stone walls was completely covered in animal hides and hunting trappings, and in the middle of the room was laid out an enormous black and white striped carpet – some sort of animal hide – with rough pillows strewn around. The rest of the room extended back into darkness.

  “Ishr-… Shima’sidu,” said Raf hesitantly, “is it true that you banished Tiponi?”

  She made the cat-like hissing noise again. “A go-between must keep the Trust. It is forbidden to bring strangers here, he knows this!”

  “But that’s not really fair,” replied Raf. “We were trying to get a cure for the disease, and then, I suppose it’s also my fault then because there was that whole thing with Tiponi’s shoulder. And that was only after we saved him from those other iMahlis.”

  “What is this?” she said, her eyes narrowing.

  “Some…fit... fet-”

  “Fetumu?”

  “Yeah, that’s it, some fetumu had captured him and we managed to rescue him.”

  Shima’sidu shook her bangles violently and stood up. “Did these fetumu know what he was?” Raf started to shake his head but she cut him off. “Of course they knew!” She hissed again furiously.

  “He was trying to warn you when they got him,” said Raf. “I think that maybe you’re being too hard on him.“

  Shima’sidu hissed at him. But then her expression changed and she dipped her head. “Of course, ishranga.”

  She suddenly shouted out a phrase in her language. Raf almost fell backwards when, a second later, one of the huge pale guards bounded out of the shadows at the back of the room.

  He’s been just there all this time!

  Raf could feel his heart thumping in his throat. The guard was simply immense. In the candlelight, his powerful torso seemed to be hewn from rock, and the blade in his hands gleamed dangerously as he whipped it out, a look of shock and fury at the sight of Raf standing next to Shima’sidu. She offered him no time to think though, and immediately snapped off a string of orders. Without hesitation, the guard turned on his heel and bounded soundlessly out the door.

  “Where’s he gone?” asked Raf nervously.

  “Ishranga, do not fear, I will bring your Elder and the go-between. Then we talk.”

  “I seem to have been doing a lot of that recently,” said Raf wryly. “To be honest, I… I was hoping you’d be able to tell me a few things.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well… what did you mean about the disease?”

  Her face grew serious and she made a half-hearted hiss. “It is everywhere, this disease. Here on the plains, in your forest, in the mountains. Everywhere.”

  “What is it? Is there a cure? Or can you cure it?”

  Shima’sidu hissed again, shaking her head. “Not Shima’sidu.” She pointed and rattled her beads at him, “But you, ishranga, you can do this thing.”

  “Me?”

  “You are strong… I will teach you.” She tilted her head back and let out another grating ululation.

  33. NABOLEK

  Stan Dawsley stared down at the floor of the room. He could hear the guards talking in low voices outside the locked doors, and beyond them, in the distance, loud music. The fact that the Festival was up and running here in Three Ways contributed no small amount to his simmering anger.

  His thoughts returned to young Derril Robson, who had last been seen leading a party of soldiers to the crossroads. Stan refused to believe that he’d fallen into a collapsed hole as the Miernan Captain had reported. Derril was as sure-footed a forester as anyone. And the edges of the
collapse that Stan had glimpsed before his arrest were suspiciously neat.

  Standing up, he started pacing again, only to stop as the doors were opened. He turned and crossed his arms to face the gaudily dressed man who had entered.

  “Dawsley. The Foreman wants to see you.”

  Stan glared at him. “Does he? Well I think I’ll just stay right here if you don’t mind, Brinchley.” He stepped forward. “When the other Foremen hear about this…”

  Brinchley clicked his jeweled fingers and two brawny Miernan soldiers stepped in through the door and marched up to Dawsley. They grabbed his shoulders with thick arms and marched towards the door. Once outside, they led Stan through a throng of soldiers seated at tables, straight into another office. Here, the fat and richly dressed Miernan sat talking with Foreman Allium.

  Allium looked up. “Perfect timing.” He nodded at Brinchley who bowed and left.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said to the soldiers, who released Dawsley and stood to the side.

  Allium took a grape from a bowl on the tabletop and ate it, looking at Dawsley. “You have forced me to make a difficult decision, Councilman. Despite my orders to avoid the southern passage, -”

  “Orders? Since when is a Councilman answerable to orders about where he can travel?”

  “Since the southern Forest started falling apart,” snapped Allium in his high-pitched voice. “Reports of collapses cover my desk, as well as the story about this Robson boy falling through one just south of our own village. And what do you do but go wandering down there, despite me stationing soldiers there for our safety! It’s lucky you didn’t trigger another collapse and bring down more Ancients.”

  “Safety? The only collapse I saw was a huge hole that had been made by these Miernan soldiers. If only we’d known you would go on to hire foreign thugs to do your dirty work when you were elected!”

  Allium’s face tightened. “These ‘thugs’ you talk of are our future business partners. Honestly, Dawsley, how you made it to the Council I have no idea. You should be thankful that I, at least, have the vision to elevate Three Ways to its proper place.”

  “By stealing the Festival from Eirdale?”

  “Eirdale couldn’t possibly have catered for this sort of event. Not only are they too small, but they’re struggling the most with these collapses. They’re grateful that we’ve stepped in to rescue it.”

  “Interesting then that when I last spoke with Foreman Manyara, he still seemed to believe it was being hosted there this year. He was very much looking forward to the opportunity, I remember, as was everyone else, including our Three Ways folk.”

  Allium looked at Dawsley frostily and reached for another grape. The Miernan suddenly chuckled, clapping his hands together. “You were right about him, Allium. Stubborn and foolish.” The smile faded. “If he has this opinion, it’s likely others will too, yes?”

  Allium nodded irritably. “But the Festival will be over soon. We can deal with the rest afterwards.”

  “How can you be so… flippant?” snarled Dawsley. “These villagers trusted you with -”

  “Actually,” interrupted Allium, turning around. “I think that’s enough of you, Dawsley. I’ve no need of you anymore.”

  “Your days as Foreman are numbered, Allium! I’ll see to that. When they hear about -”

  “Quite so, quite so. I agree, it would be a nuisance,” said Allium with a firm nod. Dawsley paused, confused. “I think it best if we kept you alone with your unhelpful thoughts until after the Festival. Perhaps longer.” He glanced at the soldiers. “If you please, gentlemen?”

  The guards looked at Nabolek who nodded and then they seized Dawsley’s arms.

  “You can’t do this, Allium!” stuttered Dawsley. “I am a Councilman!”

  “Not for very long.” Allium jerked his head towards the door dismissively. As Dawsley was dragged out of the room shouting, he picked through the bowl of grapes and, finding one to his satisfaction, popped it into his mouth.

  Nabolek stood up, his pendulous belly swinging as he walked towards the door. “What was all that about collapses?”

  “A stroke of luck. The southerners have had some sort of tree disease problem.”

  “A problem?” said Nabolek. “The ground collapsing is not a problem, Allium, it is a catastrophe! I had always understood the forest platform to be completely stable. Why haven’t I been told about this issue before?”

  Allium smiled. “Don’t let it worry you, Nabolek. It doesn’t affect us up here. It’s probably just a weak patch they’ve over-farmed, or where someone’s built a fire illegally. It happens occasionally. This was perfectly timed though, to make for a useful scapegoat that we could use to ensure our people remain here instead of travelling down to Eirdale. Brinchley has been talking to the Council members, making sure they all start to worry about the ground opening underneath them. Nothing too panicky, but enough to keep them and the rest of Three Ways uninterested in venturing south. With any luck, it’ll also play straight into our hands when the Festival is over, if there’s any opposition to my plan.”

  “Luck? I prefer to be in control of situations, Allium. And I do not like the idea of people becoming argumentative here in Three Ways. Especially not with what you plan afterwards. It has ramifications for my own plans as well. If enough of them become unhappy like that man, it could be a completely different sort of problem to deal with.”

  “Quite,” replied Allium peering into the distance. “After the Festival the real challenge begins. But with your men around, most will hold their tongues. They’re not a very confrontational lot, these foresters.” He turned to the Miernan. “You’re absolutely sure nothing can get through the crossroads?” Nabolek smiled confidently. “Because our success relies on maintaining this communications gap between us and the Eirdalers until the Festival has been savored to our satisfaction and the Senators are satisfied.”

  “And afterwards? If the idea of you being appointed Baron is as unpopular as Dawsley leads me to believe …” Nabolek stroked his beard. “It seems to me, Foreman, that the southern forest holds little value for the moment. My soldiers will certainly extinguish any interest in the short term, and Captain Lethar assures me that access to and from the south is impossible for the indefinite future.”

  “Yes, well I hope he has skills other than cutting down our trees.” Allium ignored the flicker of irritation on Nabolek’s face. “However, once the Festival finishes, I will deliver my plan to the Overcouncil and convince them that this is the best thing for the Forest.”

  “And if there are any violent attempts to get past the blockade? It seems to me that it might be necessary for my men to take a more persuasive role, yes? I don’t want to go to all the trouble of winning over the Senators and building this valuable trading link only to have it ruined by this southern rabble. We must protect our interests for the long term, as well. As the potential future Baron, you really should have thought this through already. You need to consider how you will run the forest, and how you will control it.”

  Allium looked at him. “You have some ideas?”

  “It is almost certain that these southerners will persist in making their point afterwards, and with increasing organization. It’s obvious to anyone with military experience. But, whereas you seem content to just wait and see if unwanted problems flourish, like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, I am not. I like to be in control of the situation.”

  “Control?” Allium asked. “Well, I would obviously welcome advice from you before you leave. And, assuming the Senators endorse me, once I am Baron I can request military assistance if absolutely necessary, correct?”

  “You are too slow, Foreman, too reactive. I could foresee these sorts of issues long ago. I took the liberty of calling for a few reinforcements from my garrison in the Pass. They should arrive here in less than a week.”

  “That’s very generous of you, Nabolek. I appreciate your trust in me, although I’m not completely sure that I ne
ed more men, to be honest. I mean, I have almost eighty men at my disposal already. I would have thought that was sufficient to handle things once you leave.”

  “Leave? With these new problems? Not a chance, Foreman. Besides, as disciplined as my soldiers are, I’d rather not test their loyalty so far from home with a stranger. I will remain here, temporarily, to assist you in any way I can and ensure everything goes well. These southerners - and the locals – will quickly learn to behave.”

  34. KIDNAP

  Tiponi waited until the small pot of water started boiling on their tiny fire, before lifting it off and filling the mug. In the bitterly cold night air, the steam slowly drifted upwards, a solid swirling mass in the crisp moonlight. With the pit to shelter them from the crosswinds, it was only when it reached above the stony sides that the steam was whisked away to dissolve into the darkness beyond.

  Giving it a stir, Tiponi held the mug up, a coy smile playing on his face.

  Raf took it and glared at the iMahli. “Enough, Tiponi. You’re being stupid.”

  Bolyai clicked his tongue. “It’s not every day a go-between is banished. And even less common that he’s unbanished. Add in finding out that it was all because of your intervention, and I can understand why he’s a bit relieved and somewhat grateful.”

  Tiponi nodded. “It is so.”

  Raf grunted in annoyance and took a sip from the mug, savoring the odd flavor of herbs that the water had been infused with.

  “You like it, ishranga?”

  “Look, you can stop calling me that,” said Raf. “We’ve travelled together and you know me; simply Raf. Just because she -” he nodded his head back towards the opening in the rocks behind him, “- calls me that, doesn’t mean anybody else has to.”

  Tiponi dipped his head and then crouched down on his haunches again. Around the ledge, the warriors who had terrified Raf so much before stood silently in the shadows, facing out towards the dark plains. Behind them, inside in her rocky lair, the ishranga had turned in for the night a while ago. Invisible up in the blackness of the craggy peak opposite them, he knew that the iMahli archers were stationed there as well. It was an unsettling place.