The Jasper Forest

by Julia Gray

  'What I have to do when I leave here,' he began, confounding her assumption,

  'may . . . may give me a chance to lift the curse completely.'

  'Really?' she exclaimed, her astonishment plain.

  'I'm going to do everything in my power to do just that.'

  Esera did not know how to respond to this. Although she knew Terrel was serious, she didn't understand how he could make such a claim.

  'Don't mention this to anyone else, will you?' he added. 'I just wanted you to know, that's all.'

  'Are you going to see the sharaken?' she guessed.

  'No. This is something else altogether.'

  'But you could, couldn't you? You could be the new advocate.' The idea obviously appealed to her.

  'Isn't being the Messenger enough?' he asked, with a hopeful grin.

  'What's the matter? Don't you like titles?'

  'Not much.'

  They sat in silence for a while, looking out over the water from their usual spot on the platform.

  'How will we know?' Esera said eventually. 'When you lift the curse, I mean.

  How will we know when it's happened?'

  'You'll know,' Terrel replied. 'I'll find some way of telling you.'

  Parina's baby, who had been named Nieto, made his first trip onto solid ground when he was twelve days old. Safe

  in his mother's arms, he was blissfully unaware that he was the focus of a huge amount of interest. Everyone wanted to see this child, the first to defy the curse and, in doing so, restore all their hopes for the future. Terrel went with them, occasionally monitoring the infant's dreams. Although he caught glimpses of doubt and fear as the forces that had tormented the baby for so long were reinstated, they were soon overridden by other, more direct sensations, and Terrel was confident that the infant would come to no harm.

  Even so, he suggested that Parina take her son back to the hospice after a few hours.

  For Terrel, this had been the last big test, and he believed now that he would be free to leave whenever he wanted. Everything at the hospice continued to go well. There had been no signs of 'the darkness' since that first night and, far from going mad or dying, all those who had spent their nights outside the day-stone circle were prospering, so it looked as if his temporary solution was working as well as he could have hoped. However, the decision to leave was never going to be an easy one now.

  He was pondering his options over his evening meal that day when Brin bounced into the hut, doing a kind of manic dance.

  'I'm not the youngest any more!' he chanted happily as he bounded around the room. 'I'm not the youngest any more!'

  Imana, who was also sitting at the table, looked stern, but Terrel smiled and shook his head, cutting off her rebuke. He could understand the little boy's elation and relief, and didn't want his sister to curb his high spirits.

  Brin made a second circuit of the room, repeating his joyful refrain, then hopped out of the door and disappeared.

  'I'm sorry about that,' Imana said, although even she was smiling now. 'He's hopeless at the moment.'

  'I'd be excited if I was in his shoes,' Terrel replied. 'It can't have been easy for him.'

  'I suppose not.'

  Terrel had gone back to sleeping at the guest hut again several days earlier, in order to give the women a little more space. The hospice was now more homely and comfortable, with various alterations and additions having been made for the benefit of the residents. Esera had taken Terrel's advice and had been out with some of the fishermen, and she'd gone swimming most days too.

  None of the others had joined her so far, although they had looked on enviously at times. The overall atmosphere was much more relaxed, so Terrel's presence at night was no longer required. He'd been glad to return to the village.

  His next visitor made a rather more dignified entrance than Brin had done.

  'May I talk with you, Terrel?' Amie asked.

  'Of course. Come in.'

  'Shall I go?' Imana asked the elder, who looked at Terrel.

  'Stay if you want,' he told the girl. 'I don't suppose we're going to be talking about anything secret.'

  Amie nodded curtly, her expression betraying little.

  'I'll come straight to the point,' she said. 'Some time ago you offered to be the next advocate. I'd like to accept your offer, if it still stands.'

  Terrel stared at her in consternation.

  'We're all enormously grateful for what you've done here,' she went on. 'The Messenger's work is done, but we both know this is only a temporary solution to our problems. The elders have agreed that our best chance of something more permanent is to appeal to the sharaken — and as you pointed out, you have a much better chance of reaching them than any of us. Will you do us this one last service?'

  For a few moments no one said anything. For his own part Terrel didn't know what to say, and it was Imana who eventually broke the silence.

  'Of course!' she exclaimed. 'You can travel in the burning lands. You have to leave soon anyway, so you can go to the sharaken on your way to Tala . . .

  Tala . . .'

  'Talazoria,' Terrel said heavily.

  'Yes. It's perfect!'

  Throughout this exchange Amie had remained silent, watching the boy's face.

  Her own expression was calm, as always. Unlike Imana, she was not given to excessive displays of enthusiasm, but Terrel could nonetheless sense the hope behind her deceptively placid countenance.

  'You will do it, won't you?' Imana said, sensing his doubt for the first time.

  'When would you want me to leave?' he asked.

  'Well,' Amie replied, 'Jenna's baby is due any day now, and I think we'd all be happier if you stayed to see it born safely. After that it would be up to you. What do you say?'

  'All right,' Terrel said. 'I'll do it.' *

  Jenna's baby, a girl, was born two days later. Once more everything went well, and this time Terrel managed to remain conscious - though he still found the whole procedure faintly repulsive. The baby howled from the moment she took her first breath, which made the midwives happy. However, a little while later the child — and everyone else — fell silent as a deep rumbling sound reached their ears. Then, in response to an exclamation from Esera, everyone turned to look out of the open doorway.

  The water on either side of the walkway was dancing.

  'Earthquake,' someone breathed.

  As the hospice began to rock gently, Terrel and Amie glanced at each other across the room. All but forgotten in the excitements of the day was the fact that this was the time when both the Amber and White Moons were full, the day which had almost matched Terrel's dream.

  A million tiny fountains rose and fell upon the surface of the lake. The walkway writhed like a living creature and almost buckled at one point, and beyond that the land trembled and groaned.

  The tremor lasted only a short time, and did no great damage, but in Terrel's dream the valley had survived Macul's catastrophe. Although there was no way of telling what had happened in the outside world, Terrel knew he had to find out.

  It was time to go.

  In the end, finding his way out of the valley proved to be much simpler than Terrel had anticipated. He was able to follow the trail through the cloud layer easily enough, even when the fog was at its thickest. It made him wonder whether he really would have been prevented from leaving before -

  or whether it had been something he'd unconsciously decided for himself because he'd known it was the right thing to do. Either way, as the seemingly eternal grey relented, growing steadily brighter as he walked on and up, he could not wait to see the sky again.

  When at last Terrel emerged into the outside world, the daylight was glorious, but almost blinding, so that he was forced to squint and shade his eyes. The sun's heat was like a furnace, and the dry air seemed super-naturally clear, so that the views to the distant mountains and along the steep-sided valley ahead of him were breathtaking. It all presented such an incredible contra
st to the valley that he found he had to rest frequently, and by the end of a day of only sporadic progress he was thankful for the coming of nightfall. He walked on for a while, finding even the moonlight bright enough for his needs, before weariness forced him to stop and set up camp. Even then he found it hard to get to sleep. He had hoped to find Alyssa and the ghosts waiting for him as he left the valley, but there had been no sign of them so far. Now that he had set out along the unknown road once more, he would have welcomed their advice - but took comfort from one piece of knowledge he had learnt for himself. It had been immediately obvious that the earthquake of his dream had not taken place. Yet.

  Now, two days and a handful of miles later, as the familiar aches and pains of a traveller's life were reasserting themselves, his advisors still had not made an appearance. He had met other travellers, who had directed his steps so far, but he knew that the really crucial decisions were still ahead of him.

  In the meantime, there had been plenty to occupy his mind. His latest round of farewells had been difficult. Although he'd known that he had to go - that he wanted to go - this had not made the partings any easier. Imana, Amie and especially Esera had become his friends, but the emotional attachment to the valley went beyond that in a way he didn't fully understand. Although he had only been there for just over a long month, and was departing of his own free will and as a hero, he could not escape the feeling that he was leaving unfinished business behind. He could rationalize this to a certain extent, of course. He was still hoping to be able to find a way of lifting the curse completely, and as their advocate - his status as such had been confirmed in a brief formal ceremony in the village - he carried with him their hopes for the future, but that still didn't explain his vague sense that there was something else he should have done.

  He was also puzzled by the surprising fact that he'd received no internal warning of the recent earthquake. Was that because he had been over the water?

  Because he'd been concentrating on Jenna's confinement to the exclusion of everything else? Or was his talent fading as his healing skills developed? The only way to find out was to wait for another tremor - and Terrel was in no hurry for that to happen.

  However, the question that had dominated his thoughts was a simple one - in theory, at least - and as he came to the spot where the trail he was following divided, his dilemma had become straightforward. Until that moment he'd been able to tell himself that there was still time, that the decision would be made for him by circumstance, that someone or something would give destiny a nudge in the right direction. Now, as he had known it would be all along, it was up to him. If he turned left, a well-defined track ran along the side of the precipitous river valley and once he had negotiated that, according to the advice he had been given, the route to Talazoria would be obvious. If he turned right, a path led up into a high pass, and thence into the mountains and the remote domain of the sharaken.

  Terrel had been free to leave the valley - indeed he had gone with the people's blessing - but the manner of his departure carried with it an obligation to fulfil his duties as their advocate. Yet going into the mountains would make his journey longer and possibly more hazardous. It would certainly delay his return to the coast, which would mean having to abandon any chance of returning to the islands that year. And the longer he spent getting to Talazoria, the closer he came to the time of Macul's destruction.

  The earthquake was now only four months away, and Terrel had no idea how long the detour would take. He had responsibilities to an earlier promise, an earlier bargain. All the people of Fenduca, all the sleepers, indeed -

  unknowingly - all the citizens of both Macul and his homeland, were depending upon him. Shouldn't that commitment take precedence over his more recent undertaking?

  Balanced against that was the hope that the sharaken might be willing to help the valley, and possibly even aid Terrel in his own quest. However, based on his only previous encounter with one of the mystics, Terrel was doubtful about either their willingness or their ability to do any such thing.

  Even if he was able to locate one of their fabled mountaintop palaces, it might well turn out to be a complete waste of his time and effort. There was a good case to be made for the argument that he would better serve the people of the valley by going directly to Talazoria.

  But logic was not everything. And a promise was a promise.

  The choice Terrel had to make now was whether to follow his head or his heart.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Until the fox arrived, Terrel had been able to convince himself that he'd made the right decision.

  By then the brown hills, with their patches of scrub and cypress trees, had given way to steeper crags and pine woods. There had even been a few isolated vineyards on the lower slopes, the last sign of human influence on the landscape, but beyond that, beyond the last of the trees, the land was almost entirely barren and almost certainly uninhabited. Bare rock in varying shades of orange, white and ochre - all of them dulled by the ever-present dust -

  stretched out around him, turning to a uniform grey in the distance in the haze of the day and to shades of purple as night drew in. The trail was no more than an intermittent goat track here, broken in places by deep gullies of tumbled stones which were dry now but which must have been formed by winter torrents. Each ridge the boy crossed was higher than the last, the terrain gradually became more bleak and, despite the almost constant sunshine, the air grew colder. In the far distance, Terrel caught glimpses of vast white peaks, hanging frozen in the sky like glittering waves. Gazing at them in awe, he found it almost impossible to believe that they were so high that they were covered in snow even in late summer. Terrel hadn't seen another human being for two days now. Indeed, he had hardly seen another living creature

  - just a few fast-moving lizards and the occasional bird wheeling in the sky far above. And yet it was here, according to all his informants, that the sharaken had chosen to reside. It was easy to see why the previous advocates had failed in their missions. This arid, sun-scorched region would be deadly to the people of the valley in summer, and winter would have brought intense cold as well as making any journey increasingly hazardous. As it was, Terrel was hoping that he would reach his destination soon, before his own strength -

  and his supplies

  - ran out.

  His decision to make his way up into the mountains had been swayed by the memory of Aryel's advice to her son. He had followed his heart - and could only hope that he would have no regrets about doing so. And although he longed for the comfort of their company, the fact that Alyssa and the ghosts had still not appeared convinced him that he was on the right path. The alternative explanation - that they were now unable or unwilling to come to him - was simply too appalling to contemplate.

  The fox, which came trotting out of a ravine at the side of the trail, looked quite out of place. Its fur was pure white, contrasting starkly with the dusty landscape. Terrel knew immediately that it was Alyssa, but his delight was dashed by her first words.

  What are you doing here? she asked as she fell into step beside him. You should be in Talazoria by now.

  I'm going to ask the sharaken for help. As he explained his promise to the people of the valley, Alyssa listened without interrupting. Coming this way felt like the right thing to do, he concluded, and there's still plenty of time for me to get to Talazoria.

  So you got Elam's message, then? she asked.

  Yes.

  That's good. Muzeni and Shahan weren't sure it would work.

  Where are the others?

  They'll be here when the road next turns.

  You mean it hasn't turned in all this time? Terrel exclaimed.

  Only when we sent you the message.

  So you knew that going to the valley was right, and that I had to help them.

  But what about afterwards? If I wasn't supposed to come up here, why didn 't you stop me?

  Why would a hero choose evil? she quoted.
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  I'm not a hero, he muttered. And I never wanted to be.

  You are who you are, she replied. Your choices are your own.

  Terrel was irritated by her evasiveness. She must surely have some opinions of her own. Neither she nor the ghosts had ever had a problem giving him advice in the past - so why was it all being placed on his shoulders now?

  Many ghosts can't return to this world, she told him. Most don't even want to.

  Even those who do aren 't able to all the time.

  Terrel wasn't sure why she had chosen this moment to tell him something he already knew.

  But it's been so long, he complained. And they have you to guide them, don't they?

  We all follow our own instincts, Alyssa replied - and that, Terrel knew, was the only explanation he was going to get.

  After a while they stopped to rest. They had reached the top of a ridge from where, to his great relief, Terrel was able to look ahead and see the landmark he'd been told to aim for.

  Not far now, he said, as he took the last of his food from his pack.

  How do you know?

  See that spur over there? he replied, pointing. The one with the rock shaped like an anvil? As soon as we pass that we should be able to see their palace.

  And then what?

  I told you. I'm going to ask for their help. He cut a chunk from a loaf of hard bread with his knife. Do you want anything to eat?

  No.

  As Terrel chewed slowly, and drank a small amount of water from his dwindling reserve, he saw the ring, twisted round the tip of one of the fox's ears.

  It's good to talk to you again, he said, reaching out and fondling the soft fur on her neck.

  Alyssa gave him a warning glance.

  Careful, she said. I have fleas.

  As soon as they reached the top of the anvil ridge, the two friends were able to see the sharaken's refuge. From a distance it resembled a fortress rather than the palace Aylen had described. It sat upon a dusty mountaintop, and its massive walls were built of huge blocks of dull orange-coloured stone.

  Four squat towers were set at regular intervals around the walls, and each tower was topped by a curiously shaped roof. Terrel couldn't see any doors or windows in the forbidding facade, and he began to feel distinctly apprehensive about simply marching up to the castle and demanding entrance.