by Jenny Ealey
Tarkyn’s eyes twinkled at the woodman’s discomfort but turned to Hail. “So when you said that the mountain ridge is the end of your territory, does that mean that Falling Rain could be anywhere from now on, on or off the mountain?”
Hail shrugged, “Yeah, he could be. But he’d be mad to be still on the mountain now that the snow has come. It’s windy and horrible on this side of the mountain at the best of times. And he’d be struggling to keep out of sight for a long period of time, if one of these trappers,” she indicated String and Bean with a nod, “stayed in the area for a while.”
“Now, let me get this straight,” said Danton leaning forward, with his arms on his knees, “Falling Rain won’t reveal himself to any of us sorcerers because of your woodfolk bond of secrecy.” He paused until someone nodded, “And he won’t reveal himself to any of you because he has been exiled. Is that right?”
“Yes. Even if we come near him, he should not make contact with us,” said Tree Wind. She smiled wistfully, “In the normal course of events, we would never have come anywhere near him anyway.”
Danton frowned, “So, when you send someone into exile, you seem to depend on their sense of honour to keep them there. Isn’t that a little optimistic?” He waved a hand as he saw Tree Wind about to protest, “Not in Falling Rain’s case perhaps, but surely in some cases. If a person has wronged woodfolk enough to be exiled, surely they might be deemed to be untrustworthy?”
Judging by the blank expressions on the faces around him, this had obviously not been an issue before. Eventually Waterstone said, “I think the shame would be enough to keep them away. And even if they did venture back into our territory, sooner or later they would be spotted and shot.”
“And if they were untrustworthy, what would stop them from revealing themselves to sorcerers and going to live among them?” asked Danton.
Looks of profound shock confronted him.
“No woodfolk would ever choose to live among sorcerers,” stated Summer Rain flatly. “Far better, a life of solitude.”
A fraught silence ensued. Tarkyn and Danton, even String and Bean, suddenly felt like ugly horny toads, sitting unwelcome amongst a gathering of gentle tree frogs. Only Stormaway seemed unaffected.
Lapping Water reached around Midnight to put her hand impulsively on Tarkyn’s knee and said gently, “Don’t look like that. We are happy with you among us. But think how long it has taken us to get used to you when there are few of you and many of us. We would be much too fearful to become one woodfolk among many sorcerers, especially in their world, with rules we don’t understand and with all that power they have that we don’t.”
Tarkyn nodded and started to breathe again, not aware until then that he had stopped. His taut face relaxed and without thinking, he placed his hand over Lapping Water’s, gave it a squeeze and left it there. “Thank you for explaining that.” He took another deep breath to fully recover himself, “So, the likelihood is that Falling Rain is somewhere at the bottom of the mountain, living in one of those patches of forest. And he won’t reveal his presence to anyone, woodfolk or sorcerer, even if you or I try to contact him directly. Is that right?”
“Yes. He will have closed his mind off. And even if we can figure out where he is, he will still conceal himself when we come looking for him,” added Tree Wind.
“What if I could get close enough to him to order him to reveal himself? Did he swear the oath?”
Waterstone, Tree Wind and Autumn Leaves exchanged glances. After a moment, Waterstone said, “I’m not sure. He was so ill, you see. He may not have.” The woodman shrugged and grinned wickedly, “It doesn’t make much difference anyway. You have just finished telling me that you don’t need the oath to make people comply.”
Tarkyn had the grace to look a little embarrassed, “Hmm, yes. In general I would say that was true but in the case of someone who has lived alone for twelve years and is just possibly feeling resentful towards the Tamadil family in general, I may not have quite the same level of success.”
String and Bean’s eyes lit up. “Then we’re going to have to trap him, aren’t we?” said String with some enthusiasm.
“Ooh. That will be a good start to our renewed acquaintance with him, won’t it?” Tarkyn grimaced, “But other than me standing in the middle of a forest making an idiot of myself by trying to order him around, I can’t see any alternative. Can anyone else?”
After a moment, several heads shook reluctantly.
“As long as you don’t hurt him though,” said Tree Wind, staring a challenge at Tarkyn.
Tarkyn face split into a grin. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you, Tree Wind? You just had to say that.”
Tree Wind folded her arms and tried to repress an answering grin, “You just be careful, that’s all.”
“Tree Wind, I am not going to run this operation. I am just trying to clarify what the situation is, so that I can help. Among you, you can choose who is coordinating it and the rest of us will give you whatever help you require.”
Waterstone smiled, “Don’t tell me you are handing over the reins, Tarkyn,”
“Probably not, knowing me. But I am trying to, for the time being. So let me know when you’ve decided and we’ll go from there.”
After a very short mind conference, it was agreed that Tree Wind would oversee the task of making contact with Falling Rain. Tarkyn suddenly realised he was still holding Lapping Water’s hand but while he was wondering how and when to extricate himself, he was saved from his dilemma by Midnight who impatiently retrieved Lapping Water’s hand to help him with his plaiting. Lapping Water smiled at Midnight and kept very firmly focused on helping him with his wristband.
“Before we trap him, we have to find him,” Tree Wind was saying, “We can’t just set random traps all over the foothills. So, how are we going to do that?”
“Can you people detect the presence of each other, if one is trying to hide?” asked Bean.
Thunder Storm shook his head, “Very rarely. Only if someone has made a mistake. That’s how we train our young, you see. They have to practise hiding and covering their tracks until they can’t be found by us.”
“Will he have become careless over time, do you think?” asked String.
Tree Wind and Summer Rain looked at each other before Tree Wind answered, “I would say, almost certainly not. Not when he is so close to sorcerers’ dwellings.”
“So basically, conventional tracking can be ruled out,” concluded Bean.
“Tarkyn, you could use an animal to look for him,” suggested Running Feet. “Just as you did when you used the eagle owl to find Danton.”
Tarkyn smiled at the woodman, still aware that he had snapped his head off earlier, “I could if we knew the general area but I couldn’t ask any animal to scour the whole of the foothills. It is too large a task. We need a way to focus upon a smaller area first.”
String scratched his head, “Interesting challenge, this one, Bean.” He thought for a minute, “So, none of you can trace where his mind is, if he has it closed off? Is that right? That’s what you said about Hail.”
“True enough,” replied Waterstone.
“And yet Tarkyn found Hail, didn’t he?” said String. “He traced her through her emotions.”
“So, we just have to find a way to make Falling Rain react strongly to something and Tarkyn will be able to pinpoint him.” Tree Wind smiled at Tarkyn, “I knew you wouldn’t be side-lined for long. Do you think that will work?”
“As long as we’re close enough.” Tarkyn thought for a minute, “Saying that, I picked up Autumn Leaves’ distress when he was being struck by the knife hilt from what? … about four miles away.”
“And it will be easy to elicit a strong reaction in Falling Rain,” said Autumn Leaves.
Tree Wind frowned, “How? You’re not to frighten him.”
Autumn Leaves smiled gently, “As soon as he sees any of us, he will be swamped with emotion, I would think.” He tilted his head, “I�
��m not sure what; anger, resentment, longing, regret, could be fear, but whatever it is, it will be strong. And Tree Wind, I can’t see us being able to immobilise him long enough to talk to him without frightening him to some degree. He won’t know what our intentions are until we explain them to him.”
Tears sprang to Tree Wind’s eyes, “Poor Falling Rain. All this time.” Then she wiped her hand briskly over her eyes and sniffed before asking String and Bean, “You two must know this area better than anyone. What are the woodlands like at the base of the mountain? Where is the most likely place that a woodman might choose to live?”
String scratched his head, “I don’t know. What’s most likely to attract a woodman to a particular area?”
“Safety,” replied Bean promptly. “He doesn’t have the luxury of a lookout roster like the rest of you. So he needs somewhere that he won’t have sorcerers sneaking up on him when he’s dropped his guard.” Seeing Tree Wind frown, he continued, “No matter how well trained or meticulous he is, the man has to sleep and he can’t be looking in every direction at once. If he wanted to have a fire or do anything in the open, he would need warning of people coming.”
“Or be in a place that was inhospitable to sorcerers,” mused String.
“But was all right for woodfolk,” finished Bean.
“So, is there anywhere like that?” asked Tree Wind patiently.
Bean shrugged, “I can’t imagine anywhere that you folk would want to be that we wouldn’t.”
“Perhaps there are some things about us that we know and you don’t,” suggested Tree Wind with a touch of acerbity. “Are there any places in the foothills you can think of that sorcerers don’t like visiting?”
There was a long pause while String and Bean let their minds range around their memory of the foothills. Suddenly they looked at each other, clicked their fingers and chorused, “The swamp.”
The woodfolk waited patiently until Bean expanded, “There is a large swamp off to the east a little. It’s full of old trees and small shrubs that somehow seem happy to grow in waterlogged conditions. Dwelling in the murky waters there are biting fish and large carnivorous creatures which are extremely off-putting.”
“Crocodiles or alligators?” suggested Tarkyn
Bean shook his head, “Don’t know. Never seen them…. And the air is filled with nasty stinging insects; gnats and mosquitoes and who knows what else. I’ve never been in there and very few have.”
“Couldn’t you just levitate your way over the waters if you wanted to go there?” asked Autumn Leaves.
Bean glanced at String before replying, “Not many sorcerers could. I know Tarkyn and Danton are good at it and so is Stormaway if he wants to, but we’re not. It’s a huge effort for us and we couldn’t keep it up for long, certainly not long enough to navigate that swamp.” He shrugged, “Even if we could, there are still those dreadful insects to contend with.”
“You know, I think this may well be where Falling Rain is living,” said Summer Rain, thinking aloud, “It is not difficult to fend off insects. We have several herbs that will do that. And he could move around the swamp from tree to tree, couldn’t he?”
“It will make it easier if he’s there, won’t it?” Tree Wind looked at Bean, “Just how big is this swamp? I suppose it would be too big for us to surround it?”
“Oh yes, much too big. It would cover several square miles. What do you think, String? How big would you say it was?”
String scratched his chin, “I would say it’s at least four or five miles long.” Amid sighs of disappointment, he added, “But it’s not very wide, is it Bean? No, I would say it’s less than a mile wide in most places. It follows the path of a river, you see. And there’s just this one section of the river as it comes out of the foothills where it has spread itself out into the forest on either side.”
“Hmm. Excuse us a minute,” said Tree Wind. Without intending to be funny, she added, “We think better thinking than talking.”
With that, the quiet of a mind conference descended on the cave. In the background, Tarkyn could hear the sounds of the black mountain lion tearing the last of the flesh and skin off a large snow hare he had brought in earlier. Tarkyn looked around at him and received a warning growl in response. Tarkyn met his eyes steadily for a few moments to maintain the status quo before turning back.
In response to a tug on his sleeve, Tarkyn looked down to see Midnight wave his hand to indicate everyone sitting around the fire and then move his finger from his lips outwards to indicate talking with a query on the end of it. Tarkyn smiled apologetically and did his best, using images, to fill Midnight in on the contents of the discussion.
After a minute, Midnight sent an image of sorcerers lined up along either side of the length of the swamp with the woodman running up and down the length of the swamp but always next to the path of the river so that he was as far from the sides at all times as possible.
Tarkyn smiled and nodded in acknowledgement and then cleared his throat to get the woodfolk’s attention. “Excuse me, everyone. I have another little factor to throw into the mix.”
When he had finished explaining Midnight’s idea, String exclaimed, “Now that he’s pointed it out, it’s blindingly obvious, isn’t it? Of course Falling Rain will keep to the centre of the swamp, close to the river.”
A thought struck Danton, “But what about boats? If it’s a river course, couldn’t sorcerers navigate into the swamp in boats? Then the river would be the least safe place.”
Bean considered this objection for a moment, “They would have to be keen. The swamp narrows at the southern end and then channels into a fast flowing, narrow set of rapids that spreads back out into a calmer, wide river further down. They couldn’t climb that steep part carrying a boat. In fact, I think they would have to skirt around and come into the swamp from the west side if they were going to. They would need a very flat-bottomed boat and quite an expedition to achieve even that. Falling Rain would hear them hours before they were anywhere near him.”
“No, I think our little friend is right,” said String, sending Midnight a smile, “Falling Rain will be near the river.”
“So Tarkyn, is that a small enough area for you?” asked Running Feet.
Tarkyn nodded, “I would say so. How far are we from this swamp? Do you want me to look for him now or wait until we get closer?”
“Now,” said Tree Wind impulsively. When Tarkyn raised an eyebrow at her, she thought again and with a slight smile at her own response, said more slowly, “Yes, now if you can. Because there is no point in us travelling to the swamp if he’s not there.”
“Very well. What’s the weather like outside? Any better?”
Running Feet, who had a fair idea where this was heading, stood up and walked to the entrance of the cave. He wandered out far enough to put his head above ground level, looked around and came back inside “It’s not too bad. The wind has dropped. A few clouds around still, but I think the worst of it has passed.” He smiled at Tarkyn, “So I expect we can brave the cold if that’s what you’d like to do.”
Tarkyn grinned, “Yes. That is what I would like to do. And you’ll come with me, will you? Thanks. And we’ll need String and Bean. Please, the rest of you stay here so I can concentrate. I won’t be long. Meanwhile, Danton and Stormaway, can one of you place your shield over everyone until I return. I don’t think we should trust that cat too far.”
Chapter 58
After careful discussions with String and Bean, Running Feet understood enough about the position of the swamp to guide Tarkyn’s mind to the general vicinity. With String and Bean keeping guard, Tarkyn closed his eyes and, maintaining his link with Running Feet, scoured through the trees looking for a heron’s mind to tune into. He remembered the heron who had taken his mind soaring above the forests and who had treated his attempts at intimidation with such disdain. He searched for a similar stately, aloof mentality and finally zoned in on a female egret, not quite so aloof as the grey h
eron, perched high in a weeping willow overhanging the bank of a small lake.
The guardian of the forest sent waves of friendship and then a picture of the swamp with a woodman in it and a request to find him. In return, he received a wave of protective hostility.
“This bird knows where he is,” murmured Tarkyn, “And she is protecting him. Interesting.” Tarkyn sent a wave of reassurance and an image of other woodfolk approaching and chatting with Falling Rain. The egret, who would never have seen Falling Rain talking to anyone, was unconvinced. Tarkyn thought for a moment before sending an image of the woodman looking unhappy, followed by an image of Falling Rain surrounded by other woodfolk, smiling. Tarkyn wondered whether the egret had spent long enough in Falling Rain’s company to recognise the meaning of his facial expressions.
Apparently she had, because she took off ponderously and flapped her way above the trees and across the lake. The south eastern shore of the lake was cut by a river that flowed between loamy banks before broadening into the shapeless waters of the swampland. Unerringly, the egret followed the vague course of the submerged river as it wound its way through the inundated forest below. After a mile or so, she gradually lost height until she glided down between the treetops and landed with a final swoop on a platform of reeds, high above the murky waters of the swamp. Then she looked calmly, straight into the face of Falling Rain.
“Wow. There he is,” squawked Running Feet. “He looks fine. His hair’s a bit longer than I remember it.” At that moment, Falling Rain turned side on to pick up a small fish that he then offered to the egret, “Oh no, Look at that. His hair’s a lot longer. It’s halfway down his back. I thought it was just long enough to be caught in a bit of thronging, but it’s very long, isn’t it? He looks a bit more lined. Well, he would be, wouldn’t he? It’s twelve years since I last saw him. Other than that, he looks much the same. Oh my stars! How exciting! Can we go back and tell the others?”
Tarkyn carefully maintained his link with the heron, as he asked, “Can you navigate us to there from what we’ve seen? Don’t forget, you’re the only one who knows where to go from this. String and Bean haven’t seen it and I won’t have a clue.”