Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles) (23 page)

The sound of talking behind him caught him by surprise, and with the awkward disorientated feeling of someone awoken from a deep sleep, he opened his eyes. Cisco and Fergus sat watching him, grinning, as Raf quickly tried to gather his wits about him.

“Well, Gency,” said Cisco, “I hate to tell you this, but that was actually rather nice.”

“Yeah!” gushed Fergus who was sitting on the decking, hugging his knees. “You sing really well, Raf.”

“Oh… thanks,” he muttered, feeling a burning spread across his face.

“You gave me goose bumps there from the second you started singing,” said the Foreman from where he was standing. “I feel really quite moved by that. Strangely -” he looked up at the darkened sky, searching for the right word, “- happy.” He smiled, but frowned a little at the same time.

Raf fidgeted nervously and then quickly walked over to the netting behind him. He lay down on his side facing away from the others. But not long after, footsteps approached.

“Nice job!” whispered Cisco mischievously. “I think you’ve just earned yourself quite a few public performances after that. No way the Foreman’s not going to tell Ottery about it!”

Raf glowered at him. “Shut up, you idiot. The Festival’s not
happening
, unless you’ve forgotten. And by the time there’s another one, he won’t remember anyway.”

“Don’t count on it,” came the amused voice of the Foreman.

Cisco laughed silently into his hands and then sprang backwards to avoid a punch from Raf, before settling down on the netting and making himself comfortable for the night.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

Ramsey glared in irritation at the two boys to his left. “Shhh!”

They quietened and looked sullenly down the path. In the distance there came a soft clinking noise and as they watched, a wagon appeared around the bend of an
Ancient
with three passengers. Ramsey stepped in front of them with his hands raised and the cart jerked awkwardly as it slowed over the uneven ground and drew to a stop.

Two of the foresters were men dressed in long tunics of tan-colored fabric. One had a bushy white beard underpinning a wrinkled face and light blue eyes, and the other was similar, although much younger, version. Next to them sat a middle-aged woman with long tumbles of mahogany hair, dressed in a dark grey robe with a green stole around her neck.

Ramsey bowed to them and started singing the
gretanayre
. The new-comers scanned the area curiously, but then disembarked from the wagon and responded formally. When they had finished, the younger man stepped forwards frowning. “Good morning, friend.”

“I am Ramsey.” He bowed. “Welcome to Eirdale.”

“I am Trenz Wrighk, Foreman of Upper Radley. This is my uncle, Foreman Wrighk of Saanenbury.”

The woman dipped her head elegantly. “I am Bilotusia Kess, Forewoman of West Peaks. But, tell me, why has the
Ash-knell
been sounded? There had better be a good reason for us to have sped here recklessly through the night, Councilman.”

“Oh, I’m not in the Council,” replied Ramsey. “My role is to ensure you are escorted safely to the village.”

“Safely, you say?” said the old man.

“Yes, Foreman Wrighk. I ask that you trust me; all will be clearer when the Overcouncil convenes.”

The three looked at each other and the lady nodded. “Lead on.”

Ramsey bowed again and then turned around and nodded at one of the boys. “Marc here will lead you. Do not stray from the route he takes, please.”

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

A short, lean soldier stood nervously in the shadows under a low-hanging olive branch as Nabolek sauntered up to him.

“Being in the right place at the right time, Lethar, is a useful skill to have in life. Jugak failed me and paid the price. I am promoting you to Captain,” said Nabolek. “I have word that criminals are on their way to cause havoc with my Festival.” He looked at the soldier from underneath his thick hooded eyes and lowered his voice. “Take a division of men and make sure that access to this village from the south is challenging. The more challenging, the better.”

Lethar saluted. “Understood, sir.”

“If any local villagers try to travel south defying the ban, you know what to do?” The Captain nodded again. “Your promotion will be short lived should you fail in this task, Lethar. Don’t disappoint me.” The soldier saluted again and jogged off.

Nabolek watched him disappear towards the soldiers’ quarters and then strolled back towards the three richly dressed Miernans. One of them saw him coming and beckoned to Nabolek to join him out of ear-shot of the others.

“Is everything all right, Nabolek?”

“Fine, Senator Hysik,” replied Nabolek. “More than fine, even.”

“How so?”

“As it turns out, our friend Allium employed some underhand measures to have the Festival here in his town but rather bungled it. There are now issues with disgruntled foresters south of us. Some are even getting rather violent.”

“And how is this ‘more than fine’?”

Nabolek smiled. “I now have an excuse for the two hundred soldiers you’ve lent me. They will be official peace-keepers when they get here.”

The Senator nodded and sipped his drink. “I have every faith in you, Nabolek. I will keep these old fools happy and when your work here has fed my funds sufficiently, our time will come.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. ”And as for our friend, early retirement beckons.”

They turned at footsteps behind them and saw the other two Senators approaching.

“What’s this about an early retirement, Hysik?”

Nabolek laughed. “I was saying that I hoped you found this forest to your liking, Senators. It would be a perfect place to settle once you are tired of the relentless pace of Miern, yes?”

“It
is
really rather lovely out here, true. I wasn’t sure what I would make of this Aeril experience and will admit that I had misgivings about spending any time on this infamous forest platform, but I’ve actually found it to be thoroughly delightful. Which will make our trip back next week all the
more unpleasant.”

Nabolek dipped his head. “Actually, I won’t be accompanying you, Senators. I think I’ll remain here for a while to bring Allium up to scratch on his new role. That is, if you intend to endorse the barony request.”

“We’ll see,” replied the other Senator gruffly. “This Festival is yet to even start. Although, so far, I will say that this Allium appears to be competent. Let’s hope you don’t ruin this opportunity as you have so many back in Miern, Nabolek. Your cousin’s patience is not bottomless.”

Senator Hysik lifted his drink quickly as Nabolek’s face tightened. “A toast. Let’s enjoy the day and think about the long term profits that will flow into Miern’s coffers, Senators. The Festival starts in a few days and Nabolek has brought us here to a forest that is surely ripe for the picking.”

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

The newly-appointed Captain Lethar sat on a large wagon moving down the southern pass a few hours out of Three Ways. The path had slowly widened over the last stretch, although it was still bordered by the walls of thick brambles it bisected. Next to him, a young forester walked along beside the wagon enthusiastically playing a wooden flute. Behind them, a line of marching soldiers stretched to the other, much larger wagon some fifty feet back which was covered with hide.

“How much longer, forester?”

The young man laughed and pointed his flute up towards one of the enormous trees ahead around which the path bent. “The crossroads are just beyond that
Ancient
. Are we in so much of a rush?”

Lethar ignored him. They probably didn’t even need a guide as the path was easy to find and the only means of travelling through the thick woods, but he preferred to be safe rather than risk a mistake and have to deal with Nabolek.

The procession finally made its way past the cedar and then reached a large, open space where a few different paths merged together in a worn, open junction. Lethar looked back to the other wagon and gestured for the soldiers to stop. He jumped to the ground and pulled out a rolled up map from a box on the side of the wagon, stretching it out in the air.

He tapped a spot south of Three Ways. “So this is where we are?” The forester walked up, squinted at the map and nodded. “And all the paths up from the south join here to head up along the path we’ve just come along?” The forester nodded again. “No other way to get to Three Ways except on this path?”

“Well, not unless you’re coming from west or north, obviously. But from down here, it’s the only way to get through this bramble jungle.” He waved his hand vaguely at the bushes next to them.

Lethar looked out at the junction. “Well, don’t let us keep you from your Festival.”

The forester tilted his head. “Are you setting up camp or something, Captain? And what’s in that huge wagon? Is this something to do with the collapses in the south we’ve been told about? Are you going to help?”

“Something like that, forester. It’s Miernan business, though; nothing for you to worry about. Now, please go, we have much work to do.”

The forester shrugged and made his way back down the path. As he passed by the back of the wagon though, one of the soldiers unhitched the coverings and the side slipped down to reveal the contents. The forester gasped at what he saw: rows of bright silver axes, lined up on racks, great mounds of rope coiled in neat piles on the floor;, and two enormous twelve foot saw blades held in straps above them.

His face dropped as he took it in. “Wh… what are those for?“ he stammered. He started backing away from them, pointing at the blades. “You can’t cut down trees! It’s against the law, Miernan. Is that what you’re doing?”

“Yes, they are for doing some pruning. That huge one over there is a perfect starting point.” Lethar sighed. “You really didn’t need to be so nosy. I told you, this was Miernan business.” He reached behind the bench he was sitting on.

“The
Ancient?”
hissed the forester. “How could you even think about cutting it down? The Council will never allow it!” He turned and sprinted back up the path. A second later there was a sharp explosion and the forester was lifted a few feet into the air before crashing back down onto the ground. He let out a wet, gurgling breath and then was still.

Lethar lowered the pepperbox and returned it to its holster. The soldiers continued unloading the wagons, stepping around the mangled body.

T
he four of them walked back briskly through the farms, leaving the towering form of
Nviro
behind them. The sun had risen hours earlier and they had taken their time on the trip back, nursing stiff muscles and blisters from the activities of the day before. In the distance, the village chimes rang.

“Sounds like it’s already getting busy down there,” observed Cisco.

“Let’s hope so,” said the Foreman.

Cisco looked over the Raf and wiggled his eyebrows. “With the
Ash-knell
blaring you did yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if we were visited by an Elder or two…”

“An elder?” responded Fergus curiously. “You mean like Mr. Jover?”

Cisco laughed. “No, no, not like Jover, although I know he
looks
old and shriveled. No, I’m talking about other people in the Forest –
very
old people. People say they’re as old as the
Ancients
.”

“You been talking to your Nan again?” said Raf, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to him, Fergus. Cisco’s Nan is full of excellent bedtime stories.”

Cisco ignored him and continued. “They’re very secretive, living deep in the Forest. It didn’t always use to be like that though, and my Nan told me they used to be our leaders, like the Foreman.”

Fergus’ eyes lit up. “Did you know that, Raf?”

Cisco patted his friend’s shoulder. “Knowing the Gency Family, Raf’s probably got an Elder for a cousin...”

“Shut up, you idiot,” muttered Raf, speeding to catch up with the Foreman.

Cisco laughed and beckoned Fergus to follow as he jogged after them.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

They made their way directly to the Council quarters, walking straight in to a picture of delighted expressions.

“Foreman,” said Leiana. “Good job! And welcome back.”

“It worked marvelously well. Gave the branches a good old rattling,” added Dr Allid. “I’d rather like to have seen this
Ash-knell
.”

“Not an easy trip, but no problems with the rot and we survived.” The Foreman indicated the boys with a jerk of his head. “I may as well have not been there, to be honest. It’s all down to this lot. Raf was the one who worked out how to sound the
Ash-knell.
We even - and you’ll probably find this more newsworthy - managed to get him to sing for us. It was quite a show.” Fergus and Cisco both beamed at Raf who looked down at his feet suddenly.