Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles) (39 page)

“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.

His heart sank at a soft pouring sound. More sand trickled through the new hole down onto the men below and he heard Bolyai cursing. They lowered him back down to the ground and the three of them moved against the outside of the trunk to avoid the sand.

“Now what?” said Raf. He felt a lump in his throat and bit back a whimper. “I’ve trapped us under the sand. We’re
buried
…”

“You saved us, boy. We’d be dead if it wasn’t for what you just did, don’t forget that.” There was a pause. “Can you tell me how you did this? Melforging doesn’t happen by accident, you
meant
for this to happen.”

Raf groaned and slumped back down on to his haunches. “Elder, I told you, I don’t -” He stopped, embarrassed at himself. “I… I suppose I was remembering the ant-plants we saw. You remember the ones in the plains? I thought that if those could grow for the ants, then maybe I could make this tree grow to… protect us in the same way.”

“You just… ‘remembered’ that? You thought about it and that’s all it took?” Bolyai grunted. “It doesn’t make sense in the slightest. But
you
know how it works and can use it, that much is clear.”

“We could starve here, though! I don’t know what to do about the sand. It’s going to fill the tree up!”

“It’s not an immediate threat, so don’t worry,” said the Elder. “You can’t do anything with the sand either as it’s not alive. It’s got to be the tree.”

Raf chewed his lip as a flicker of hope ignited inside him.

He stared unseeing in the darkness, as the beginnings of another idea grew in his head. “Elder, I need you and Tiponi to be still.”

There was shuffling and he felt them settle. Then, only silence remained punctuated by the soft hiss of falling sand. Sitting down and wrapping his arms around his knees in the darkness, Raf closed his eyes. He ignored the pounding of his heart and started humming the
gretanayre
.

The colors were there instantly, flickering and pulsing vigorously, and he let the panic of their predicament slip away to a corner of his mind. He relaxed and let himself sink into the melody and become one with the music, one with the colors that seemed to welcome him. 

And then he thought of home. Memories from the Forest came slowly and grudgingly, but with all that had happened recently, and what with being buried under the sand, it was hardly surprising. However, he steadfastly summoned to mind his family’s home, drew on all his memories, and pieced together the huge sycamore
Ancient
until he could almost see it in front of him.

As he had done with the ant-plant idea, he focused on the image and guided the thick river of purple that bubbled out of the darkness back into the palm tree. It drenched every part of it from the roots that had now grown far below the ground, right up to the fronds at the very top some twenty feet above their heads. The images of his home and the palm occupied the same space and became one, and he urged the palm to grow, willed it to expand into the other – to
become
the other.

It was more difficult as he persisted and the colors seemed to be absorbed quickly as they arrived at the edges; but he focused, and mustered thicker purples, concentrating them out of the surrounding clouds of color until the tree gleamed with an almost incandescent blaze. Wave after wave he sent, picturing his home constantly, tracing it in all the detail he could remember.

After a while, Raf found that he was flagging a bit and his efforts were becoming clumsy. The colors weakened and he seemed to be losing connection with it all, less and less able to control it. So,
he stopped humming; and everything calmed down and became still again. Around him, there were residual flashes and flickers in the darkness at the edge of his vision, and he felt a throbbing in his temples. For a minute or two, he slumped with his head against his chest, sapped of energy.

“
Ishranga
?”

“It’s the best I could do,” replied Raf. “I’m bushed.” He reached back to the trunk behind him and leant against it.

“Did it work, whatever you just tried to do?”

Raf turned to where his voice had come from. “What are you doing over there, Elder?”

“Avoiding the sand. It came pouring in half way through what you were doing. I don’t know what’s changed with this palm, but it feels very different in here now. Definitely a bit bigger.”

“I made it grow.”

“Again?”

Raf scratched his head and tried to get his bearings. “Elder, is there a space over there? An opening or something?”

“An opening? Possibly, but sand is piled up here and blocking anything that might be behind it. I don’t really want to dig around in case I set it off and it buries us completely.” He paused. “What did you do?”

“I tried to make it grow like home, like our
Ancient
.”

“You must be careful, boy. There are limits to melforging. Some things cannot be done, and everything is bound by the laws of nature.”

Raf mulled this over. “Let me check for the other opening.”

“Another one?”

“Well, my home has two branches. The blocked one by you leads to my bedroom, but mom and dad’s is over here. It’s a bit higher than ours so, maybe…”

Raf crawled backwards carefully in the blackness. His groping hands ran over the wooden wall until they suddenly found the lip of an opening.

“No sand,” he whispered. He moved forwards and peered up into the inky blackness. There was the faintest glimmer of light above and he could just make out the outline of a passageway as it extended up and spiraled out of view. His heart fluttered in his chest.

Well, it definitely grew loads more, then…

Raf got slowly to his feet, and then flinched as he knocked his head into the top of the passage.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Elder. The ceiling’s much higher at home.”

Raf also noticed that the passageway was narrower and twisted much more severely as it went up which sent a stab of panic through his stomach.

Why isn’t it exactly the same as my home?
Didn’t it work? It looks like it’ll be too small to fit through higher up…

He ducked his head down and continued to climb, hearing the sounds of the others following behind him.

“What
is
this?” asked Bolyai in disbelief.

Raf continued around the twisting bend, speeding up as the sense of dread grew stronger. Every step brought more light, but it was also getting narrower and narrower. After two full circles of the spiraling passage, the walls on either side were so close that they had to edge along sideways and Raf realized that it was about to taper to a dead-end.

A few yards later, he let out a loud gasp of relief as the passage ended abruptly at an opening which was just big enough to squeeze through. It led out into a much larger, brightly lit space.

Sunlight!

He eased himself out and stretched his cramped neck before looking around in recognition at what
was a strangely familiar space. He felt a smile force its way onto his face.

It’s a small version of my parents’ bedroom
.
Brilliant!

Looking to the right, there was an oval window that let in piercing sunlight as well as a warm breeze. Behind him, the other two emerged and murmured in astonishment at the room.

“It’s a wonder,” said Bolyai softly. “You truly have the gift, boy…”

Shading their eyes, they moved forwards past him to the window. Tiponi took one look outside and then hissed through his teeth. Raf’s proud smile faded and he went up nervously to join them. They had a commanding view of their surroundings as the window was set high above the ground. Peering out into the blazing sunlight, he understood.

The palm tree had been in the middle of the oasis valley. Now, looking around, there was absolutely nothing to suggest an oasis had ever been here. No water. No plants. No rocks. And no people.

“It’s tragic,” murmured Bolyai.

The entire area, as far as the eye could see in every direction, was a flat, unbroken sea of sand. Kastiyya had been buried alive.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

The three of them hoisted themselves over the window and carefully climbed down the overlapping links of palm bark, dropping to the sand. To their left, the other shorter palm trunk, mirroring Raf and Rio’s side of the home, poked out from the sand at a sharp angle away from them, and ended abruptly against the backdrop of a clear sky where green fronds sprouted from the top.

Raf stood awkwardly in the shade, watching as Bolyai stepped back and stared up at the palm tree, muttering to himself. Tiponi, meanwhile, had immediately wandered a short distance away to scan the horizon north of them.

“Can you see anything, Tiponi?” Raf’s voice sounded strangely muted out in the open. The iMahli shook his head.

Bolyai walked slowly over the fine sand to stand next to Raf. “We should leave. I don’t have any idea how long we were buried in there, but every minute counts now.”

“To go after the
ishranga?
Elder, we need to get back to the Forest. I told you what that Miernan said to me. An army of soldiers are on their way there!”

“And?”

“
And?
Elder, you remember what they did up in Three Ways, don’t you? Soldiers destroyed the crossroads and cut down an
Ancient!
Who knows what else they’re going to do! I mean, Eirdale could be under attack right now!”

“So, tell me, what exactly do you think you could do about it?”

“What do…? I mean, we could…” Raf’s mouth closed and he looked hopelessly at the Elder.

“Exactly, you’re just one boy, and you’d be powerless to do
anything
,” replied Bolyai. “It’d also take us over a week to get back without transport.”

“But -”

“- after which time it’ll be far too late to do anything, anyway.
If
we make it back alive.”

“Eld-“

“And what about the problem with the trees?”  There was suddenly a tinge of fear in Bolyai‘s voice. “If we don’t find a way to cure it, it won’t matter what any soldiers are doing, boy.” He let the thought sink in and softened his tone. “Reaching the Pass from here will be incredibly difficult, but the Forest is dying, boy, and the only people who can help - the
only
ones - are the three of us.” He looked over at Tiponi who had his back to them. “And his
ishranga
. She said she could teach you to cure it, but at this very moment she’s being dragged to the Pass by the mercenaries
you
led straight to her.”

Raf bit his lip at the cutting accusation and looked down at his feet.

Bolyai shook his head and looked away. “We can send word to your parents as soon as we reach the Pass so at least they don’t worry – assuming, like you say, they don’t have bigger problems to deal with.”

He said nothing more but watched Raf from under his bushy eyebrows for a few seconds before walking away to join Tiponi who stood brooding impatiently.

Raf stared out at the shimmering sand that stretched to the horizon. Westwards lay his home, his family and the Forest. To the north lay the Pass, the
ishranga
, and… possibly a cure.