Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles)

by David Lundgren

  “Now, now,” said Bolyai. “It’s too hot for that. Let’s just save our energy, shall we? We have a long way to go and it’s going to get much harder – and hotter - than this.”

  . . . . . . .

  Raf was in the middle of a disturbingly real dream when he felt a tap on his leg. He removed the shirt and opened his eyes to see Tiponi looking down at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Kastiyya,” the iMahli replied, nodding over the side of the wagon. Raf sat up and squinted in the fierce sunlight, shading his eyes. To their left, perhaps half a mile away, was a small sprouting of dunes and rocks in the vast featureless land they had been travelling through.

  “Doesn’t look like much to me.”

  Bolyai wiped the sweat off his forehead. “It’s the entrance at the top of the valley. We’ll have to travel down into it, but at the bottom, there’s a large settlement around the spring. We can get supplies there from the locals and head off tomorrow morning. The next part of the journey will be longer, so it’s important we get plenty of food and water. I’ve never tried this before – only the iMahli have, and even they don’t stray off the caravan routes through the desert unless they absolutely have to.”

  “Great,” muttered Raf.

  Tiponi clicked the ostriches back into action and they made their way towards the outcrop of rocks. When they reached it, Tiponi dismounted and led the ostriches around a thin path that meandered amidst the rocks and sandy mounds until they reached a line of large rocks that formed a sort of natural wall. The iMahli kept the ostriches moving though, and led them towards two enormous rocky mounds that joined together. As they neared them, Raf made out a dark gap beneath the rocks where it was big enough for them to pass through; it was for this that Tiponi was heading. It was a wonderful feeling to enter the shade underneath for a brief period, and the absence of the sun beating down roused Raf’s spirits enough that he found the energy to dismount and walk alongside Tiponi.

  They emerged from the little natural passage and Raf couldn’t help but ogle at the sight that met his eyes. Rocks of all sizes lay strewn on the ground which angled downwards dramatically in front of them, leading to a round valley. And in the middle of the valley was water!

  A light-green pool, the surface rippling gently and sparkling in the sunlight, sat comfortably in the middle of the rocky basin. It was fringed by trees and bushes and streaks of grassy mounds which gave it the appearance of a giant emerald eye. Raf felt a smile crease his sun burnt cheeks and looked over in excitement to Bolyai who was nodding with relief as he looked down at the oasis. He caught Raf’s glance and smiled at the boy’s expression.

  “Kastiyya,” he said quietly. “And not a moment too soon. This sun’s quite unbearable. And I haven’t been for a dip in quite a while.”

  “A dip?”

  Bolyai pointed down at the water’s edge. “Can’t you see? People are swimming down there at the side.”

  “What?” Raf squinted at the water. “Oh, yeah…”

  There were some people, iMahlis from the look of them, who were sitting by the water and a few of them were splashing in the water. “Can we go in the water too, Elder?”

  Bolyai smiled at him and nodded.

  “Only,” Raf bit his lip wistfully, “I don’t really know how to swim. I’ve never even been to Sayenham.”

  “You don’t need to worry, boy, the water’s only chest-high here.”

  Raf beamed and then jerked his hand at Tiponi. “Come on! Let’s get down there!” He climbed off the wagon and took off down the path before having to pause and wait for the ostriches which stumbled their way along the stony path.

  Towards the bottom of the path, Raf noticed that there were more people in the shade of the palm trees along the sides, mostly iMahlis, but also a few groups of other, indistinguishable travelers, too. There were some large tents and thatched awnings that were attached around some of the bigger trees and towards the back of the valley, there was even a huge wooden building built up against a rocky cliff.

  They made their way along the side of the pool and Raf walked along the edge, staring down in fascination into the clear water. “Look! Tadpoles! And what are those things over there?”

  “Fish,” replied Tiponi.

  “You’re kidding!” laughed Raf. He flicked a foot into the water, watching the fish dart away. “Can we go in here?”

  “No,” replied Tiponi. “There only.” He pointed to where the people were in the water on the other side.

  “Why?”

  “Just wait, boy,” chided Bolyai. “This water here is clean; it’s come right out of the bedrock under the ground. You only swim over there where the water flows out of this pool into the river. This part is where we get drinking water from, so you keep your dirty, sweaty body out of it, thank you very much.”

  “Oh.”

  They walked up towards the shaded area where most of the locals were. Tiponi seemed wary and stopped the wagon short of the main area, choosing to tie it to a twisted palm tree on the periphery.

  “Why don’t we go in closer, Tiponi?” asked Raf. “It’s much more shaded.”

  Tiponi said nothing and continued to adjust the ostriches’ harnesses, his face tight. Raf frowned at the iMahli’s back and looked back up at where the other visitors were. It was only then that he noticed that they were being watched. All the iMahlis, standing or seated, were staring at them – some with ill-disguised hostility.

  “Is there going to be a problem, Tiponi?” asked Bolyai quietly. “There are more travelers here than I’ve ever seen before. And if I’m not mistaken, those are fetumu over there, aren’t they?”

  “No trouble. Bhesanté run Kastiyya.” Tiponi took some empty water bags and swung them onto his shoulder, turning and walking in the direction of a large tent.

  “Come on, boy,” said Bolyai.

  Raf turned from where he had been staring at the water. “Oh… sorry, Elder. The water’s beautiful. I don’t understand how it stays above the ground, though. Do you -” He looked up and saw that Bolyai was too far away to hear so he jogged to catch up.

  The three of them made their way to the entrance of a large tent which was adjacent to the wooden building. If Tiponi was put off by the stares of the many iMahlis, he showed no sign of it and marched up to the door and knocked on the frame. A voice answered and he lifted the tent flap and ducked inside, followed by Raf and Bolyai.

  It was quite dark inside the tent and Raf’s eyes took a few seconds to adjust. When they did, he saw a long counter ahead of them with an assortment of goods on the shelves behind. Standing in front were two iMahlis, one of whom was busy speaking to some men who had their back turned to them, the other looking at them inquiringly.

  Tiponi clapped his hands in greeting and asked a lengthy question in iMahli. The other man shook his head and replied, casting a nervous glance at the group on their left.

  “He says we cannot take water,” said Tiponi over his shoulder, keeping his voice low.

  “Why not?” asked Raf. “There’s so much of it. A whole pool! There’s enough for everybody, surely?”

  At his voice, one of the men turned around and looked at Raf. He leaned across and said something to one of the other men who also looked at him. His gaze fell on Raf’s injured shoulder and then he slowly straightened up, his hands moving to his belt.

  “Perhaps we should leave,” said Bolyai, taking hold of Raf’s arm and pulling him towards the entrance. The men moved forwards quickly after them, and Bolyai shouted at Tiponi who spun and charged back through the entrance. As he did, he knocked another iMahli backwards who was coming inside. Bolyai and Raf followed rapidly on his footsteps and emerged into the bright daylight, squinting as they scrambled towards their wagon. Tiponi only took a few steps though, before stopping, staring back at the iMahli he had knocked down.

  “You!”

  Raf turned and gasped with shock as the iMahli got to his feet brushed himself off and stared coolly at Tiponi. “It’s Edok
ko!” he hissed to Bolyai. “The iMahli from the path. He’s alive!”

  Tiponi barked something at him and whipped out a hunting knife from his belt, waving it threateningly at Edokko. To Raf’s astonishment, the short fetumu chief laughed at Tiponi’s threat and then he yelled something loudly over them. Raf barely had time to turn around before the seated iMahlis sprang to their feet and in seconds, there was a jostling crowd of armed iMahlis surrounding them, cutting off their escape.

  The tent flap was raised and the three men from inside casually walked out and surveyed the scene.

  “Edokko,” the tallest one said, “is this your go-between?” Edokko smiled and dipped his head. “So, first, the boy leads us to the tunnel, and now they follow us here? How convenient. It looks like I’ve paid you in full now, chief.”

  Bolyai stepped forward. “Look here, whatever problem you h-”

  To Raf, it seemed as if time slowed as one of the men standing to the side suddenly lifted a crossbow he was holding and rammed the end of it into Bolyai’s face. Without a sound, the Elder crumpled to the ground and lay still.

  “I look forward to hearing from you in the future,” said the man calmly, as if nothing had happened. “Sell these two and you can keep the money.”

  “I get nothing for them, Johin,” said Edokko. He pointed at the Elder. “Too old.”

  “Well, get rid of them, then. I don’t care. We leave in two hours. Captain Djennik will be most happy to see us with our latest catch.” He tapped his head in farewell. “Till the next time, little chief.”

  Raf stared at Bolyai’s face, unable to drag his eyes away from the old man’s cheek which was already being disfigured by dark purple swelling. He felt his eyes well up and didn’t even try to resist when rough hands trussed him up and dragged him away.

  36. MELFORGER

  Raf tried to wriggle his wrists loose, but the coarse rope bound his hands tightly, so he pulled a leg underneath himself and tried to change positions to relieve the numbness. Twisting his head around, he looked awkwardly back at the supine form of Bolyai who was sprawled in the sand a few feet away. Over the course of the night, the right side of the Elder’s face had swollen horribly, pulling the corner of his mouth up into a disturbing half-grin.

  “Bolyai?” he whispered.

  He glanced back up at the doorway of the room they were being kept in. The guard on duty at the door yawned loudly and adjusted his leather chest-armor. A small table next to him held the remains of some fruit and an empty mug.

  “You must help him,” came a voice from behind Raf.

  “But what can I do, Tiponi?” he muttered in reply. “They w-”

  The guard at the door looked up and snapped, “Quiet, you two.”

  Raf leaned back against the stake he and Tiponi were tied to and sighed. It had been a long night and he’d hardly slept; it was too uncomfortable sitting with his arms above his head and the shoulder he had been shot in was aching. The temperature had also dropped right down once the sun had set so that in the early hours of the morning, he found himself huddling up as best he could, knees to chest, his breaths visible as puffs of pale smoke.

  There was a noise at the entrance and the guard stepped aside to let in an iMahli girl carrying a tray. She was short and had a necklace of wooden beads and carved ivory pieces that hung from her neck. Dipping her head to the guard, she carefully placed a tray down so as not to spill the full mug and food laid out on top.

  “That’s all I get?” muttered the guard. “Warm camel-milk and some hard bread?”

  The iMahli girl dipped her head again and made to leave with the dirty tray but stopped as, to Raf’s surprise, Tiponi suddenly addressed her loudly in iMahli.

  “Shhh!” he urged, trying to tilt his head behind to see Tiponi. “What are you doing?”

  “Oy!” yelled the guard, pointing angrily at him. “None of that, now! You hear me, iMahli? Shut up unless you want a beating.”

  Tiponi took no notice and spat out a flurry of sentences at the girl who paused and listened. The guard seized a wooden bludgeon leaning against his chair and came storming towards them. The iMahli girl looked straight at Raf as Tiponi said the word ‘ishranga’, before the guard dealt him a vicious blow on his upper arm with the wooden club.

  “You listen to me, slave!” he snarled. “If I tell you to stop, you stop right away! You hear me?” Tiponi flinched, hunching up his shoulder to protect his face. “I hear,” he replied quickly.

  The guard lowered his arm. “You do that again and I’ll make sure you can’t speak again. You don’t need your tongue in the mines, iMahli.” He walked back to sit down at the small table as the girl disappeared through the door without a backwards glance.

  . . . . . . .

  The guard ate his breakfast noisily and looked up when Raf’s stomach suddenly made a grumbling sound. He held up a small piece of crust towards Raf.

  “Hungry?” He dropped it onto the sand and laughed. Standing up from the table, he belched loudly and then stomped on the bread as he left the room.

  The second he had gone, Tiponi whispered, “Now! Your Elder.”

  Raf knew what he meant and quickly closed his eyes. Humming softly, he tried to ignore the pain in his arms, the pain in his shoulder, the numbness in his legs and backside, and the empty gurgling of his stomach. It wasn’t easy – and neither was it easy to remove the memory of Bolyai being knocked to the floor the day before. He persisted though, and by forcing himself to close his mind to everything but the tune he was humming, a small wave of blue quavered into view out of the corner of his eye.

  Quickly, he tried to seize it and urge it towards Bolyai; but it wouldn’t work. It seemed thick and unyielding and moved around him sluggishly. The harder he tried, the more it seemed to turn syrupy, so he sang a bit louder.

  “Oy! Now you as well?”

  Raf was startled and jerked back, hitting his head against the post behind him, the colors disappearing in a flash of pain. The guard stood at the door staring at him.

  “Do you want the same treatment as your iMahli friend there, singer-boy?” Raf shook his head. “Good,” replied the guard. He stepped into the room and turned to let two other men enter.

  Edokko casually stepped into view and looked down at Raf and then behind him at the Elder. He gestured to the man who had accompanied him. “Take.”

  The second man was overweight and had a flat nose that had obviously been broken many times. He turned a set of cold, blue eyes on Raf and snorted. “Young and small.” He turned to peer down at Bolyai on the ground. “And that one looks dead.”

  Raf looked at Bolyai and saw, with a sinking feeling, that there was no improvement with his injured face.

  “He’s still alive, sir. I checked this morning,” said the guard uncertainly.

  The Miernan grunted and then gave a short whistle. Through the door stepped three armed men. “Take these two to the wagon.”

  “You’re taking them?” said the guard. “I thought they were staying here?”

  “I just bought them from our friend here,” replied the man. “They’re going to join the staff at my mine.”

  Raf’s bonds were untied and his arms dropped to his sides, heavy and weak. He struggled to his feet under the watchful eye of one of the armed men while the other two pulled Bolyai up and, taking an arm each, dragged him out of the room.

  He looked back when Edokko addressed Tiponi who had a fierce expression on his face. “Where are the other ishrangas?”

  “I don’t know,” snarled Tiponi, pushing himself up against the post behind him. “I only know mine.”

  “Where are the other go-betweens?”

  Tiponi let forth a ferocious tirade in iMahli to which Edokko merely smiled, reaching behind him to pick up the bludgeon from the table. Raf was pushed roughly and he stumbled out of the room, hearing a muffled thud and a grunt of pain behind him.

  He was marched through another room piled high with crates, and then out into the morning su
n. He squinted in the bright light as they were lead to a small party of armed men waiting around two hefty, wagons. Harnessed at the front were two huge animals that Raf assumed were camels. Some iMahlis were loading small crates and sacks on to the back as another man watched them, a pepperbox cradled under his arm.

  He looked up as the group approached and, seeing Raf and Bolyai, scoffed, “That’s all you could find, Ullet?”

  “A pair of foresters, I’m guessing. Better than nothing,” replied the man leading them. “Johin already took all the iMahlis he could get his hands on.”

  “Johin? We should’ve done him in an’ taken the iMahli leader to Captain Djennik for the reward ourselves.”

  Ullet grunted sourly. He looked over the wagons with a careful eye. “Where’re the water sacks? And where’s the meat? We can’t be travelling across the bleeding desert without them! I leave you with one simple job…”

  “I sent the boys over there to get them ages ago! Maybe things’re just taking longer now. Them iMahlis don’t seem best pleased we taken over.”

  “Well, tough. ‘Bout time we took control of the oasis and ran it properly. iMahlis don’t understand business.” Ullet swung his pepperbox to rest on his shoulder. “I’ll go help them negotiate.”

  Raf stood and watched him walk off, his mind spinning. So the ishranga was being taken to this Captain Djennik? A Miernan soldier? What did he want with her? And what foul luck that the kidnappers had come this way! Raf found himself staring at the back of the huge wagon in front, and in particular, at the sets of heavy metal hoops that were attached along the inside. He had a horrible suspicion that he’d found where he and the Elder would be sitting for their journey. A journey to be slaves in a mine… The thought gave him shivers and he looked down at the Elder who had been dumped unceremoniously on the ground. He felt his throat tighten as the realization of what was happening dawned on him.

  This is real. This is actually happening; it isn’t a dream. The Elder’s probably going to die, and I’m about to be taken to a mine somewhere far away. And I’ll never see my family or the Forest again. Ever.