He felt his eyes well up. A picture of how his mother would take the news pushed itself into his thoughts and a burning sensation suddenly bubbled up from inside him and he found himself weeping. And then sobbing. He flopped down next to Bolyai and hung his head between his knees as grief overcame him.
I’m sorry, Elder… It’s all my fault!
A scuffling behind them made him jump and looked up to see Ullet standing behind him.
“Awh, don’t cry, little forester boy. Things could be worse.”
Raf scowled at him and Ullet laughed, tossing a large sack to one of the other men. “Better improve that attitude before we get to the mine, boy.”
“Please,” begged Raf, “just let us go!”
Ullet snorted loudly. “You probably wouldn’t want that, boy. You’ll be better off with me. You’ll work hard, but at least in the mine you’ll be fed and nobody will be shooting at you.”
Raf wiped his eyes and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Word is, the Gerent’s sent an army to your forest to take control of it.”
“What?”
“My guess is that there are far too many resources there going to waste.” Ullet clicked his fingers and gestured to the men to get the wagons ready, and then turned back to Raf. “So, while your villages will probably be wrapped up in some ugly fighting, you’ll be safely working for me. And if you work hard, life will be good.”
“Come on, then,” said Ullet. “Might as well get going now. We got a hefty trip in front of us.” He nodded to the other men and climbed up to take a seat on the bench.
Two men hoisted Bolyai onto the back of the wagon, and they were both then tied firmly to the rings on the sides. The two wagons set off and trundled their way towards the steep, rocky path that led up out of the basin to the desert.
Raf stared numbly at the supplies around them in the wagon. From the amount of water, they seemed to be prepared for a very long trip. One which would be brutal if the last day’s travel was anything to go by. Too brutal for the Elder who was in a very bad way, although still alive from the tiny movements of his ribs.
If he dies, I’ll never forgive myself, thought Raf. Even if we die in the mines that would be better, just not now, not here. Not when I can do something about it.
He looked around at the men walking around the wagon and shook his head to clear his thoughts. He could feel his hands shaking.
No time for nerves now. I’m the only one who can help.
He took a deep breath and then dropped his head to stare at the wagon floor. And he began singing. The haelenayre was the first song that came to mind and he focused on the tune, closing himself from everything around him. He knew people were watching, knew they could hear him. But it wasn’t important. He sang louder and lifted his head up, closing his eyes. In the darkness, colors came to life.
The second he brought to mind the idea of healing the Elder, a deep azure wave swept into view. He let himself embrace it and become part of it, soaking up the invigorating awareness, and then directed it all at the Elder. He flowed towards him, delved into his head, pooled the color into the dark mess of his injured face, filling it completely. He was relentless, pouring more and more of himself into the song, into the colors and into the healing.
“How…!”
Raf’s eyes snapped open at the voice and he saw Ullet staring at him in bewilderment from the bench. “You just… How did you do that?”
Raf looked over to the Elder and saw that his cheek had changed from a swollen purple-black mound, to a healthy pink. No sign of the swelling could be seen at all. His delight was quickly stifled though when Ullet stepped slowly off the bench and climbed down into the wagon next to him, an intense and hungry look on his face.
“What did you just do to him, boy? Tell me.” His eyes were wide as he pointed at the Elder. Raf swallowed and tried to speak, but his throat felt tight and nothing came out.
One of the Miernans in the wagon ahead of them shouted something urgent back to Ullet. With a quick look at Raf, Ullet jumped up onto the wagon bench and stood up, craning his head around, trying to see what the commotion was. Raf wiped his eyes and leaned over the side to see a line of iMahlis come jogging down the rocky bend from the exit to the desert, shouting excitedly. Ullet stood on tiptoes on the wagon seat, peering in a westerly direction. He lifted an arm up to stop the wagons.
“What is it?” said Bolyai. “Can you see anything?”
Raf shook his head. “Maybe someone’s attacking us or s-” He stopped as his breath caught. “Bolyai… You’re all right! And you’re awake!”
“Your powers of observation haven’t deserted you, I see,” replied the Elder, moving himself up into a sitting position. “And I see our situation has deteriorated a little since, since…” He looked thoughtfully at the floor and then up at Raf. “What happened?”
Raf filled him in on what had occurred since the evening before.
“Odd,” said Bolyai, rubbing his cheek. “It doesn’t feel broken. Or even particularly sore.” He looked questioningly at Raf who blushed and looked away.
“Ah.” Bolyai nodded slowly. “Well, thank you.”
Raf shrugged his shoulders and stared out to where Ullet was pointing and shouting something at the wagon in front.
“Elder, it never rains in the desert, right?”
“Here? Never.”
“Well, I can see clouds – dark, grey clouds on the horizon! They’re pretty big. Looks like we’re going to get some serious rain!”
Bolyai shuffled to his knees and pulled against the bindings to peer over the rocks to their left. His face fell.
“What? This is good news, right?”
“It isn’t rain, boy, it’s a sand-storm. They’re dangerous and move fast. We need to get back to the shelter of the oasis quickly.”
It seemed Ullet had had the same thought and he shouted out instructions to the wagon drivers in front. With some difficulty, they urged the camels around and followed Ullet’s wagon back down the path. Raf held on to the wagon’s side, watching the wisps of sand being whipped up on the ground as the breeze strengthened around them.
“Quick,” shouted Ullet, jumping down from the wagon as it finally reached a patch where the path leveled out. “Get these wagons secured. All supplies inside, now!”
The camels were led to some palm trees, their harnesses fastened around the trunks, and then the men removed the cargo from the back of the wagon to the entrance of the storage building as quickly as they could. Around them in the basin, iMahlis moved swiftly, hammering pegs into the ground to erect tents. These weren’t like tents Raf had ever seen, though. They had thick hemp ropes pulling the leather sheets low and tight to the ground so that the highest point was only two feet off the sand.
As he watched the hive of activity, Raf realized that the wind was actually subsiding. Even as the Miernans removed the last few sacks from the wagon, the breeze died completely. The men paused, arms laden with supplies, and stared around at the surrounding walls of the basin as a strange shroud of silence fell over everything. It seemed to Raf as if his ears had been suddenly covered with wads of wool. The horizon continued to darken ominously though and he looked questioningly at Bolyai. The Elder was staring up at the rocky walls west of them with a grim expression.
“What is it, Eld-”
“Shhh!”
Whereas before, the sky had been dark in the west, it now seemed even darker in the east, and as the Elder tilted his head back to look directly upwards, he drew a sharp breath. Raf followed his gaze. The sky above was quickly thickening and turning into one single whirling mass of clouds. Huge mountains of dark brown and grey seemed to form out of nothing as they watched, and the whole sky began turning to form a giant spiral above their heads as if being stirred slowly by some unseen hand. A flicker of sheet lightning suddenly tore through the churning furrows of cloud, sending a sharp crash echoing around the oasis.
“We have to get inside,” murmur
ed Bolyai. “We’re going to get caught right in the middle!”
The standstill in the basin was broken by the iMahlis who flew into an almost berserk flurry of activity at the sight of the brooding clouds above. One of the iMahlis who was unloading the wagon dropped what he was carrying and started running past him, but Ullet seized his arm.
“Where are you going?” he hissed angrily. The iMahli didn’t seem to hear him, and was mumbling distractedly, eyes fixed on the skies. Ullet scowled in irritation as the man snatched his arm free and sprinted away towards one of the tents.
From all around them, a deep groaning noise was filling the basin. And then, with no warning at all, the wind flared up again and came pouring over both rocky sides of the basin in a deafening torrent. It wasn’t just noise this time, though; the wind had substance to it, a physical force, and it slammed into everything. It whipped Raf’s hair back and yanking his shirt viciously against his skin. Sand and dirt were tossed up into the air making it thick and murky so that he had to squint to make out Bolyai in the wagon.
“What do we do?” he shouted.
Bolyai jerked his arms violently against the bindings. “We have to find shelter!”
Raf tried in vain to undo his own hands but the ropes were fastened too well to the metal rings. He lifted his head over the side of the wagon and shouted, “Help us!”
There was no reply other than the wind which grew to a terrifying roar. Its sheer force was making the wagon shake, rocking it back and forth on the spindly wheels. Powerful gusts seemed to attack them from every direction, and there were now small stones flying through the air, striking them painfully.
Raf flinched as a particularly strong blast of wind covered him with debris, and he buried his head under his arms, spitting out a mouthful of sand. The wind-surge continued until suddenly the floor moved and he felt the whole wagon topple sideways, dumping him painfully onto the ground, his arms tangling with the bindings. Next to him, he heard muffled groans from Bolyai and tried to call out, but the wind swallowed his shrieks with ease. He pulled as hard as he could at the ropes, feeling them cut into his wrists. Twisting back and forth desperately, he could sense the dust-storm closing in around them, battering the wooden slats of the wagon. There was a ripping sound and the panel at the back was suddenly torn from its hinges and flew away, bouncing wildly into the swirling banks of dust.
Something pulled at Raf’s hands and he forced open his eyes just enough to see a dark form hovering in front of him. He tried to shout but the wind howled even louder and he had to duck his head under his arm as another stinging spray of stones bombarded the wagon. Instinctively, he tried to raise his hand – and found that it was loose! A flash of metal in front of him and his other hand was free. Raf used his hands to protect his eyes and peered into the gloom to see Tiponi beckoning to him as he helped Bolyai to his feet.
The howling winds pummeled them and it was all Raf could do to keep his eyes open enough to see the indistinct figures of the other two in front of him. They staggered towards the building against the cliff into which Ullet had escaped, but pulled up behind a group of iMahlis who were screaming at the closed door and pounding on it desperately. As they arrived and tried to take stock of the situation, there was a sharp explosion and an iMahli nearest the door jerked backwards and fell to the ground.
Raf turned to find Tiponi suddenly standing next to him, grabbing his arm. “Come!”
He coughed painfully into his hands and staggered after the others again. The wind now was so strong that the three of them were walking forwards at a steep angle to avoid being thrown backwards, and having to dodge projectiles which continually came hurtling through the air. Ahead of them, a tall shape materialized out of the foggy gloom and they joined Tiponi in collapsing to the ground against what turned out to be a palm tree. The three of them huddled together against the trunk and tried to shelter their faces from the wind. It wasn’t so much wind any more as monstrous swirling sheets of sand that lashed horizontally across the ground, filling the air and blocking out everything, including the sky above. The storm thundered and resonated throughout the basin and rendered any communication impossible.
From off to their right where the large wooden building was, a wall of wind came blasting through the valley and Raf heard a sharp cracking sound – loud enough to rise above the wind. The area where the cliff had been seemed to lighten slightly, and there was a strange shaking of the ground underneath them. Raf stared in horror as an enormous boulder, as wide as an Ancient, suddenly emerged into view and rolled ponderously past them down into the water.
That must have crushed the building! All those people were inside…
He closed his eyes tightly and clenched his teeth. How could it end now? After all that had happened? Leaving the Forest for the first time? The things he had done with music. Jan… Bhothy… Tiponi… And the ishranga! He felt the cutting blade of guilt as he acknowledged that she was probably well on her way to some equally horrible ending because of him.
Raf felt a molten surge of emotion charge through his body. It wasn’t fear, though, more anger and frustration. It couldn’t end now! They needed to find shelter. If they stayed here, they’d risk being crushed by one of these rocks like tiny ants.
Ants…
The noise around them was now so loud that it formed an impenetrable wall that closed in tightly around him and cut him off, isolating him. Even covering his ears made no difference, so he clamped his arms tightly around his head, and tunneled into his thoughts, finding solace there from the chaos, seizing on a desperate idea.
He started singing.
There was nothing he could hear – but he didn’t expect to, and it didn’t matter. He could feel it. In the darkness of his mind, the song took flight and blossomed into colors that spun anxiously around him, mimicking the dust-storm that threatened to consume them. He plunged himself into the colors and threw his thoughts back to that moment in the plains when they’d first found the ant-plant in the acacia. Instantly, the colors transformed into a deep burgundy. He focused on the palm tree they were all huddled against and watched the rich purple flow into the tree until it was completely infused. He summoned an image of the ant-plant, remembering how it had looked when he cracked it open. And why it had been like that. He watched as the color come to life and whirled in front of his eyes of its own accord, feeding on his thoughts, sharing his will through their connection. The trunk writhed and groaned as it changed.
And then the wild winds seemed to die. With a soft scraping noise, the chaos waned and was cut off completely. All Raf could hear was a muffled roar that raged on. Outside.
A soft voice took Raf by surprise and the connection was extinguished.
“Well done, boy.”
Behind him, Tiponi muttered in a hoarse voice, “Ishranga.”
Raf reached out blindly in front of him and felt his fingers touch hard, rough wood a mere foot away from his face, tracing it as it curved around him. In the darkness, he smiled faintly to himself.
37. CHOICE
He had no idea how much time had passed. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. There had been nothing to measure it by, just the dull, monotonous drone from outside that had slowly subsided until a dead silence was left. In fact, the silence was so complete that their breathing sounded uncannily loud and filled the blackness with echoes.
“Tiponi?” he whispered.
“Ishranga?”
“Do you think the storm’s over? Would it be safe to go outside now?”
“Outside, ishranga? Where are we?“
Raf heard a cough between them and then Bolyai muttered, “I thought I’d seen everything…” There was pause and a questioning grunt from the iMahli. “I believe our young ishranga here wrapped us inside a tree somehow. That about right, boy?”
Raf was glad for the darkness around them to hide his face. “Pretty much, Elder.”
Bolyai laughed quietly. “I have absolutely no idea how you
did it. But you saved us. That storm… I’ve never one so fierce. And for a tree to change so quickly!”
“But how are we supposed to get out, though?” muttered Raf. “Speaking of which, how did you get out of that room, Tiponi? I was worried what Edokko would do when we left.”
“The girl helped.”
“That slave you spoke to?”
Tiponi grunted affirmatively. Then there was a shuffling sound from where the iMahli was sitting. Raf heard some scraping and then a soft pounding for a few seconds until there was a shark cracking noise.
“Careful with the knife, Tiponi,” warned Bolyai. “We’ll struggle to get out of here without it.”
Raf anxiously patted his belt and realized with a jolt that he didn’t have his own precious knife. It must have been taken when they were tied up. Strangely, the thought didn’t distress him as much as it would have a week ago.
There was a grunt of effort and a loud crunch.
“Did you break the blade?”
“No.” There was a worried tone to Tiponi’s voice and Raf suddenly picked up a strange sound, like a trickle of water.
“What’s that?”
“Sand. The hole is underneath.”
“The sand’s built up that high?” said Bolyai. “Try further up. Here, step on my hands.”
There was shuffling noise and a grunt. “I can’t hold your weight, Tiponi. Raf, you’ll have to do it. Come, take the knife and we’ll lift you.”
“Elder, I -“
“Boy, every moment we wait is another that the kidnappers are getting away with the ishranga. Come on.”
Raf groaned and then used his hands to locate Bolyai. Tiponi’s hand found his shoulder and then his fingers into which he put the long knife. Carefully supporting Raf’s feet, they hoisted him up in the darkness.
The trunk narrowed quickly and Raf had to duck to leave enough room to move in. Carefully positioning the blade in a cleft between the layers of wood, he hit the handle hard with the palm of his hand. It took some effort, but eventually, he felt the blade pierce through to the other side. Giving it a twist and levering it to open the wood as much as possible without breaking the blade, he yanked it out again.
Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles) Page 27