Treespeaker (11 page)

Dovan raised his hand in farewell and continued on.

The Elders already stood by Padhag Klen when Jakan arrived. As he entered the clearing, he looked around at the group. Grifad bore a sour and haughty expression. The others looked tense.

Jakan nodded a greeting and went to lead them to the back of the trunk. As he did so, he became aware of another presence standing in the forest. He swung slowly to face him. Beldror leaned against a tree, his legs crossed and his hands in his pockets. He stared insolently at Jakan, who bristled. What did this man want here? What could he possibly hope to achieve in a small forest village?

“I called for a meeting of the Elders. I didn’t invite anyone else!” He stabbed his finger in Beldror’s direction and glared at the Elders. They stared back at him, as if in a trance. Only Kelsha looked worried, but she said nothing.

At last Grifad spoke, all the time casting furtive glances at Beldror. “We thought that as you woke half the village last night shouting Beldror’s name, it was only fair that he be present to hear what you have to say! Every man deserves a chance to defend himself, doesn’t he?”

Jakan’s eyes narrowed. “What this man has done is indefensible!”
Though at least if he’s here, he can’t do harm elsewhere,
he thought. “And tell me, Grifad, who made you spokesman for the Council?”

The other Elders shuffled their feet as Grifad reddened. He growled. “As the Treespeaker has not yet seen fit to tell us of Arrakesh’s decision on the leadership, someone needs to speak for us! When you finally get around to telling us, of course I’ll stand aside.”

 “If necessary, Grifad, is that what you mean?” Jakan bent towards Grifad, his hands clenched beside him. “As I explained after the SpringSpeak, I will inform the Council of Arrakesh’s decision at such time as Arrakesh makes it clear. That time is not now.”

Grifad took a step towards Jakan, but Kelsha held out a long thin arm towards him. “Please, please, all this rancour will achieve nothing!’

Beldror coughed and folded his arms. “Maybe you should hold an election.” His voice was butter-smooth and supercilious, as if he talked to children.

Jakan spun around to face him, but Kelsha jumped in quickly to answer. “Elders are chosen by the people, but the Chief Elder is the choice of Arrakesh. I’m sure we will be told soon who it is. Meanwhile, please Jakan, be calm and tell us what it was you wished to show us.”

Taking a deep breath, Jakan strode to the back of the trunk, signalling for them to follow. In the daylight he could see at least ten holes, as wide as his thumbs. When all the Elders gathered, he reached into his bag and pulled out the tube. As he expected, it was a perfect fit for each of the holes.

“Beldror is poisoning Padhag Klen,” he said at last. “Using this tube…” he reached again into his bag, “this awl and this bottle.” He turned to look at the Elders, but saw only mild curiosity in their eyes. Only Kelsha showed any sign of alarm, casting uneasy looks at Beldror.

In exasperation he held up the bottle, the tube and the awl before him. “I found these last night! I saw Beldror running away. He’s poisoning it!”

The Elders continued to stare at him with expressionless faces, Kelsha again the exception. She didn’t look at him, but stared at the ground.

Jakan grew hot. “What’s wrong with all of you? I am talking about Padhag Klen. It’s our temple and this man is desecrating it.”

“How do you know it’s Beldror?” asked one of the Elders.

Jakan ran his hand over his head in frustration. “I saw him! And these things are of Carlikan origin. They were not made in Arrakesh.”

“Anyone could have brought them in from their sharesh,” Grifad said. “That proves nothing. It was dark. How could you know who it was?”

“I saw Beldror! I could see well enough to know. It was him! No one else is that tall. He’s the evil Arrakesh warned us of.” Jakan looked in despair at their glazed eyes, his worst fear realised. “He has control of all your minds, doesn’t he? Nothing I say will make any difference.”

Grifad’s chin came up. “No one has control of our minds, Jakan. I think the problem is that maybe you have lost control of yours.”

Jakan glared at him. He felt Kelsha’s hand on his arm. “There’s nothing wrong with my –”

“Fire!” The sudden shout came from outside the Meeting Hall. Without hesitating, Jakan and the Elders ran around to the front of Padhag Klen. Only Jakan noticed that Beldror didn’t move. The expression of smug satisfaction on the Carlikan’s face as Jakan passed him sent an icy wind around his heart. He knew, before he even saw the smoke, exactly where the fire was. In his mind the hawk shrieked and its mighty talons carried away his world.

For a lifetime, he stood transfixed, watching the smoke rise from his cottage, unable to bring himself to move. It was as if his heart had stopped. Then he bolted past the Elders down the path to the village, pushing his way through the crowd that had gathered, until he stood before the roaring flames.

He screamed, oblivious to the smoke that filled his lungs and stung his eyes. He rushed towards the door.

“No. Jalena!”

The heat from the flames scorched his throat, yet he fought the arms that pulled him back. “It’s too late, Jakan!” voices shouted over the crackling of the fire. “You can’t get in there now. The whole cottage is alight. She’s gone!” Still he struggled, yelling at them to let him go.

Then another voice broke through.
Stop! You can’t help her.

For a moment he halted, confused. The voice had seemed to come from within himself, but it was not his own voice.
Arrakesh? Help me!
There was no reply. Jakan shook his head and lunged once again at the flaming cottage, but a hand held him in a firm grip.

“Father, please!”

 Dovan pulled him away, tears streaming from his eyes. In a daze, Jakan felt his legs give way, felt himself being guided, almost carried, away from the flames. He was vaguely aware of the people around him, standing in line and passing water in every available receptacle. It was useless. The flames already covered the roof, sending sparks into the air, and the walls threatened to collapse at any moment.

He recognised Megda in the mist of his mind, prompting him to walk, with Dovan’s help, back down the hill to her cottage. Once there, he sank without a word onto the cushion she put down for him and leant back on the wall for support. His whole body shook, an uncontrollable tremble he hadn’t the energy or inclination to stop. For a long time he sat there, only vaguely aware of Megda’s quiet tears or Dovan’s stoic silence. He didn’t feel the blankets they put over him or acknowledge their words of comfort. He knew nothing but the freezing void from which he felt he would never escape.

At last, as if in a dream, he sipped from the cup Megda offered him, hardly feeling the warm liquid pass down his parched throat. The first taste told him that she’d added sedative herbs to the sweet tea. He didn’t care. He surrendered to the sleep that the tranquilising drink brought on, praying that he would never awaken.

Jakan stared at the rafters, wondering how he came to be in Megda’s cottage. He had awoken on a bedroll covered with furs, and for a moment the scent of leather and pine needles made him feel warm and safe. Then, without warning, he stood before his burning cottage once more, grief choking in his throat, horror burning in his soul.

Jalena.

He closed his eyes again, trying to shut out the memories. He fought against the images of the fire, telling himself that when he opened his eyes, Jalena would be there. Yet at the same time his heart felt like a lump of wood, weighing him down so that he couldn’t move. He knew the truth.

There were people in Megda’s cottage, talking amongst themselves. He struggled to keep their words from his mind. They would be discussing the fire. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want them to confirm what he refused to believe. In desperation, he tried to reach the peaceful calm of Arrakesh, but his mind flickered like the flames he tried to forget. The voices in the room were low, yet despite his efforts to shut them out, he still caught occasional words.

“…nothing anyone could do…”

“…such a tragic accident…”

He pushed himself up onto his elbow. “No!” His voice was still thick with sleep.

The voices stopped as those in the cottage turned to him. Dovan and Megda rushed to his side. He could see Kelsha sitting across the room with Grifad and other members of the Council.

Jakan rubbed at his eyes. “It was no accident. It was murder!”

“Father, you need to rest.” Dovan put a hand on Jakan’s shoulder, but Jakan shook his head, shrugging him away.

“I’m not imagining it. That fire was Beldror’s doing.”

The Elders looked at each other with bemused expressions.

“Beldror was at Padhag Klen with us.” Grifad said, his cheeks red, his lips pouting. “He couldn’t possibly have started it. It must have been a stray spark from the hearth.” His voice became placating. “You’re obviously overwrought. It’s understandable.”

“A stray spark doesn’t make a cottage burst into flames like that. I’d only been gone ten minutes. You saw it, the whole cottage was ablaze, not just…” Jakan trailed off, his voice breaking.

“Jakan, please…” Kelsha stood now, holding out a hand, tears in her eyes.

Jakan dropped his chin to his chest. He felt sick. He had just confirmed what the others believed: the Treespeaker had lost his mind.

Megda moved towards the door. “Jakan and his son need to be alone,” she said. “There will be time enough for this discussion later.” She opened the door and stood with her arms folded across her chest, her face grim. The Elders nodded and rose.

Kelsha walked across to Jakan. She knelt and laid a hand on his arm. For a moment, she gazed straight into his eyes. Her look was not just of sympathy. There was also a hint of agreement she must have feared to express in front of the others. Tears of gratitude and relief sprang to Jakan’s eyes and Kelsha’s mouth curled into a slight smile as she rose again.

 “My sincerest condolences, Jakan… Dovan. Jalena was such a good person. If there’s anything I can do, please…”

The other Elders mumbled their own incoherent words of sympathy and together they left.

Megda shut the door behind them. Her face softened as she came back across the room. Her eyes glistened. “I am so sorry.” She sat beside him, taking his hand in hers.

“Tell me it’s a nightmare, Megda.”

 “I wish I could.”

Jakan leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes again. He didn’t open them as he spoke, but covered them with his hand.

 “It’s my fault.”

Megda and Dovan gasped and both began to contradict him at once. He shook his head to silence them. He rubbed his hand down his face, opened his eyes again and stared across the room. “I knew it was coming. It was in the visions I had at SpringSpeak. But I left her alone. I shouldn’t have left her.”

“Father, you couldn’t know what was going to happen, or when. You told me yourself that the visions at SpringSpeak weren’t clear.” Dovan moved to kneel beside him. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face pale.

          “Your mother was sick with a cold. I filtered her illness because I was afraid for her, but there was nothing. I should have gone further.”

With a sudden shock, Jakan remembered that Dovan had wanted to visit his mother. What if he’d been there? Could he have saved her or would they both have perished? He shuddered at the thought.

“Stop blaming yourself.” Megda took his hand and shook it. Jakan hardly heard her.

“Not just that. I knew Beldror was trouble as soon as he got here. I should have tried harder to get him sent out of the village. I couldn’t get through to them. I’m Treespeaker, but they wouldn’t listen to me. I should have made them listen!”

Megda stroked his arm. “We’ve just seen the Elders’ response when you tried to tell them about Beldror. He has some hold over them. He’s had it ever since he arrived. It’s not your fault.”

Jakan heaved himself to his feet. He swayed as the room spun, but Dovan jumped up and took his arm to steady him. Megda too, stood and hovered beside him. Jakan took a deep breath and put his hand on his son’s shoulder. There was so much he ought to say, but he didn’t know where to begin.

Dovan gazed into his father’s face for a moment. His bottom lip quivered and his hazel eyes, so like his mother’s, brimmed with tears. Without a word, Jakan pulled his son towards him and threw his arms about him. Dovan buried his face into his father’s shoulder. His tears came without restraint, great sobs that shook his entire body.

Jakan held him tighter, his own eyes dry. Though he knew there were tears there, he couldn’t let them come. His throat hurt and his chest ached, but he feared that if he started, he would never stop. Over Dovan’s shoulder, he could see Megda fighting and losing her own battle.

At last Dovan pulled away, looking abashed and rubbing at his face with his sleeve. “Father, about the other night…” His voice trembled as he spoke and Jakan squeezed his arm and shook his head.

“Put it out of your mind. It doesn’t matter. I was angry at everyone. I took it out on you.”

“Still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Jakan let out a long breath and nodded, swallowing hard. He could feel a knot of emotion threatening to unravel at any moment.
Pull yourself together, man
, he thought.
The boy needs you to be strong now.
The village needs you to be strong.
The room spun again.
But I can’t do it on my own.
Confusion whirled in his mind. He needed to calm down.

He swung to face Megda. “I need to go to Padhag Klen.”

 “Jakan, rest. Give yourself some time.”

 “I must go. I need to.”

Megda waved a hand at the pot boiling over the fire. “At least eat first.”

“I couldn’t.”

 “I’ll come with you.” Dovan moved towards the door as he spoke.

“No!” Jakan’s voice sounded more terse than he’d intended and he swallowed again, before continuing in a softer tone. “No, thank you, Dovan, I’d like to go on my own. I need time alone.” He felt guilty at his son’s dejected expression. “We’ll talk, I promise,” he added, clasping his son’s arms.

Dovan nodded, but his face tore at Jakan’s heart. He kissed Megda quickly on the forehead and strode outside, shutting the door behind him.

The sun was just sinking below the treeline and no one moved about. Most would be getting ready to take their evening meal. Jakan bit his lip as he imagined them all sitting around their tables, discussing the day’s tragedy. The smell of smoke hung in the air. His heart felt so heavy he wondered how it could continue to beat.

Only a short distance from Megda’s, he stepped off the path into the forest. He didn’t want to meet anyone. As he walked, he tried to force his thoughts away from the horror of the day, but it replayed over and over in his head and he found it hard to keep his feet moving. He still had the strangest feeling that he would soon awaken to find it all a nightmare. Yet he knew it wasn’t. The rocking of his mind made him nauseous and he took deep breaths as he walked.

The air was cooling as the sun set, and Jakan shivered a little. With a pang he remembered that his cloak had been hanging on the hook by the door of the cottage. Right next to Jalena’s.

Lost in his grief, Jakan was startled by the figure that stepped into his path as he climbed up the hill to Padhag Klen. A flash of anger burned through him as he recognised Beldror. The man stood between two trees, blocking his way. Jakan lowered his head quickly to hide the tears that had been welling in his eyes.

“On the way to your beloved tree already, Treespeaker?”

“Get out of my way.” Grief and anger tangled, making Jakan’s voice crack. He stepped to the side, still not looking up. Beldror stepped the same way and again blocked his movement. Jakan stepped the other way, but Beldror followed. Jakan’s heart began to race. In his mind he could feel Arrakesh warning him of danger, but he couldn’t help the rage that grew with every second. A tremor moved from the tips of his fingers, up his arms and into his shoulders. His scalp and neck tingled and his face burned.

“I just wanted to pay my respects, Jakanash. You don’t have to be so unfriendly.”

Jakan remained silent. He stared at Beldror now, his eyes and mouth dry.

“My condolences. It’s a terrible thing for someone to die like that.” Beldror’s voice held no trace of sincerity. “I suppose I will get to see a Farewell, after all. Tell me, how do you hold one, when there’s nothing left?”

Revulsion struck Jakan like a blow to the stomach. Arrakesh called to him, urging calm, but he was beyond listening. With a grunt, he launched himself at Beldror, his fists clenched. His blood thundered in his ears. His heart thudded in his chest. He wanted to kill. The soothing words of Arrakesh were drowned out by his own overpowering hatred towards Beldror. It roared like the flames of his cottage inside his head. For a moment, nothing existed but the need to be rid of this man.

Within seconds he realised his mistake. In one swift movement, Beldror seized the front of his tunic and rammed him against a tree. Jakan gasped as the blow knocked the air from him.

Beldror brought his face close to Jakan’s and glared into his eyes. In a cold wave Jakan’s hatred gave way to despair as he felt the Outlander’s power  working on him. The claws edged their way into his mind. This time there was no headache. It didn’t feel as if Beldror entered his head, so much as opened a great space between his mind and his soul. Jakan struggled to hold them together, but there was nothing he could do. Blackness, so dark it hurt, poured into the void.

With cold dread, he felt the murmuring of Arrakesh growing softer and fainter. As it ebbed, he could hear the words he had heard before –
Seek Varyd.
He heard another voice too, not of Arrakesh, but still in his mind. It sounded urgent, but too faint and far away to recognise.
What’s happening?

At last, Jakan could hear nothing but the rushing of his own blood in his ears. Like a man being swept down a flooded river, his mind scrambled for help, but none came. He found himself completely alone, drowning in his own despair. He cried out through the blackness of his mind, but there was no reply. All he could hear was the thunder of the empty silence.

Beldror’s grip on his collar was tight and Jakan could hardly breathe, let alone shout. He struggled to free himself, pummelling his hands against Beldror’s chest and kicking at his legs, but Beldror had both height and weight on his side.

With his face still close to Jakan’s, Beldror hissed at him, his dark eyes burning with hatred. “Not so perfect are you, Treespeaker? Not so obedient to the Will of Arrakesh! Now I’ve separated you from the one thing that made you different. Your so-called gift is stored safely away where you can’t reach it.”