Treespeaker (15 page)

Jakan clawed at the silky grass as he slid on his back toward the cliff. His momentum didn’t slow. He lifted his head and looked down. The only thing between him and a twenty-foot drop was a large rock, two feet to his left, just before the edge. With a deep breath, he rolled himself onto his belly, praying that the rock would hold. As he came toward it, he jammed his foot against it. The rock held, but the pain that radiated up his leg as he struck, brought him close to passing out. Then all movement stopped and he lay looking across the hillside. In the distance, the hawk sailed the blue sky, its wings fluttering in the eddies.

Muscle by muscle, each individual pain made itself known. Blood trickled down his face from a cut above his eye, but the hurt there seemed minor. His shoulder ached. With care, he lifted his arm, relieved to find that the pain didn’t increase. Other parts of his body were obviously bruised, but he was afraid to move to look, in case the rock beneath his foot gave way and he recommenced his descent. His ankle worried him most. Flexing it even slightly sent pains shooting up his leg.

“Damn you!” he shouted up at the hawk. As if in answer, it wheeled away and flew out of sight over the forest.

For a brief moment, Jakan considered letting himself go once again and sliding over the edge. It would be so easy. A brief fall, then nothing; no hawk, no pain, no grief. No journey across a treeless desert of grass. Oblivion. Was he still close enough to the forest to find Arrakesh and spend eternity with Jalena?

The faces of Dovan and Megda entered his mind. He tried to push them away, but they refused to leave. Kelsha, Maden and Melni, her baby clutched to her breast, joined them. They each gave him imploring looks. Jakan cursed even louder than he had at the hawk and swallowed hard.

With great care, he shifted his head to look about him, digging the heel of his good foot into the ground to give extra anchorage. The cliff was only a few yards beyond the rock. Just before the drop, the ground flattened into a very narrow horizontal ledge of rock, which widened as it went to the left. The top of the cliff also dropped down to the left, so that eventually the ledge ran onto level ground at the base of the hill. If he could slide onto it, without going over, he might be able to get down. It would not have stopped him at the speed he was going, but if he could slip down slowly onto it, maybe he had a chance.

Moving his shoulders first, Jakan edged his upper body a little to the right, grimacing at the pain it caused. With an effort, he moved his injured right foot away from the rock and moved his other foot across to replace it. His ankle burned and pain once again shot up his leg. Muttering words of encouragement to himself, he blinked the tears of agony and frustration from his eyes. He moved his upper body again, gritting his teeth before he moved his leg. Now all that stopped him sliding again was the foot anchored against the rock.

He braced himself and bent his right leg towards his left to avoid it hitting the ledge first. Then he pulled his left foot from behind the rock. Immediately he began to slide again, a little slower than before, but his stomach lurched. As his good foot came to the ledge, he pressed it down as hard as he could and pushed his weight into the hillside with all his strength. He came to a painful stop. A shower of stones continued over the edge and tinkled on the rocks beneath.

Jakan let out the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. From here he could see the rock floor some twenty yards below and he shuddered. There was no way he would have survived a fall onto the rocks. He had to get off this hillside without slipping. Inch by inch, he edged himself sideways.

An agonising hour later, Jakan finally found himself lying on safe ground. His whole body ached and his ankle throbbed, even when still. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a while, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat. A flurry of wings above him brought his eyes wide open for a moment, but it was only a crow taking off from a nearby rock. He blew out a breath and rested again.

What was he going to do now? The first step of his journey and he was crippled. He considered dragging himself back up the hill and into the forest, but what would that achieve? There was no way he could get back to Putak’s village before nightfall in this condition, and doubtless, the hawk would make him pay for returning. Forward was his only option, but forward to where?
Where are you Arrakesh? Aren’t you supposed to be with me?

Once again, he heard only the sound of rushing water. In frustration, he clenched his fist and slammed it on the grass. His shoulder burned in response to the effort and he rubbed it hard. Abruptly, he stopped. Was the sound of water in his head? He strained his ears.
No,
he thought,
that’s real.
The stream he and Putak crossed that morning must flow out to the plain, and it had not been far from where he left the forest. He struggled to sit and listened again. Now he was sure that this sound was not in his head. Maybe Arrakesh had answered, after all.

Pushing down on a nearby rock, he tried to stand. He bit hard on the scream that rose at the pain his ankle, and fell forward again onto his knees. Walking was out of the question. He looked about him for some sticks to use as splints, but saw nothing. The only trees were about a hundred and fifty yards away, probably in the same place as the waterfall. With a deep breath, he began to crawl.

By the time Jakan reached the base of the waterfall, he felt exhausted and extremely thirsty. A flat rock ran to the edge of a large pool. The waterfall thundered down a series of steep steps. He dragged himself to the edge of the pool and scooped handfuls of water to his dry mouth. Sated, he lay on his stomach for a while, his head on his arms, letting the sound of the waterfall drown his thoughts. He felt like a child sent on an errand, lost and alone, torn between the desire to get home and guilt at not completing the task. He had to go on. But how?

At last, Jakan sat up, grimacing at the pain. He undid his cloak and folded it on the rock next to him. Then he reached down and unlaced his knee length boot on his injured foot. With care he peeled it off. The ankle was blue and swollen and he could not move his foot up, down or sideways. Trying to move his toes sent fire up his leg, but they did move and he felt some relief at that. Lifting his leg with his hands, he swung around on the rock and lowered his foot into the water. It was cold and the force of the waterfall made it lap around his leg. He sighed at the immense relief it gave.

Now what? He would need a splint and a crutch if he wanted to go anywhere. But even with that, he would not get far today. So he needed shelter and food.
No, I need rest.
He stared into the water, exhaustion anchoring him to the rock.
I must go on.
 

Jakan looked about him. The pool beneath the waterfall lay secluded and surrounded by trees. On the opposite side, a steep rocky bank rose, blocking his view of the landscape beyond. He gasped. Rising above the bank he could see a faint column of smoke as might come from a chimney. A house? His spirits rose a little. It looked to be quite some distance away, but maybe he could reach help?

Cringing, Jakan pulled his foot from the pool. It still hurt, but had eased a little in the cold water. If he could strap it, he might find it easier to walk. He laid the cloak in front of him and reached for the knife Putak had given him. A strip of leather from the cloak would do well as a bandage.

His heart fell. The knife was not there. Jakan shut his eyes and gritted his teeth in frustration as he realised that he must have lost it in the fall. In panic, he felt for the pouch on his belt and the sling Putak had also given him. They were both still there. He gave a sigh of relief and picked up the cloak. Maybe he could tear it. Taking hold of a point at the edge where it had ripped in the fall, he tugged at it with all his strength. The leather stretched, but would not tear and his shoulder burned with pain at the effort. With a growl, he threw it down. Fine, he would crawl again if he had to.

A little downstream from where he sat before, the water flowed over another flat rock, keeping it shallow. He moved towards it. At the edge, he stopped and stripped off his clothes; a painful procedure, but he didn’t want to be left with wet clothes if there was a chance he might have to stay here overnight. He inspected his bare skin, mottled with large and small bruises, and was startled to find, on his chest, a burn. Its shape bore a remarkable resemblance to a hawk. Jahl had left his mark.

Jakan bundled his clothes into the cloak and edged himself on his hands and knees into the shallow flow, holding the cloak above the water. The pouch containing the healing stone and earth dangled from his neck. Letting it fall even that short distance from his chest left him feeling breathless. Obviously, he must never let it be removed. He took hold of the pouch and threw it over his shoulder onto his back. With it in contact with his skin once more, he felt better.

The rock was slippery and it took great effort not to slide off. At last, he reached the other side. There he dressed himself. He strained to pull his left boot back over his swollen ankle. With nothing to strap it, the boot was the only support he would have.

Gritting his teeth Jakan dragged himself towards the rock-strewn bank. Up close it looked a lot steeper than it had from the other side of the stream. He lunged forward and grabbed a low branch of a tree in an effort to pull himself up. His shoulder burned with excruciating pain and he let go and slid back. For a few moments he lay on his back, his eyes shut. It was hopeless.

A stick cracked nearby and Jakan’s eyes shot open.

Certain he must be imagining things, Jakan lifted his head and narrowed his eyes against the sun on the water. No, there it was again, just behind a tree further downstream, a tiny triangle of russet material, hovering a hand’s width above the ground. Then a face appeared, framed with long brown hair and set with two big brown eyes, which widened when their owner realised he was looking at them. The face disappeared. Jakan kept watching. A minute later it peeked out again. This time, the rest of the little girl it belonged to followed with a shy smile. He guessed she was about seven or eight years old.

“Hello.”

Either she was real or his delusion was talking. Jakan managed a weak smile. Frustration had made his head ache, but now he felt a glimmer of hope.

“My name’s Tashi. What’s yours?” The little girl swayed as she spoke, her hands clasped in front of her.

Still worried that he might be hallucinating, Jakan rubbed his hand over his eyes. He looked again. She was still there.

“Jakan.”

“Are you a wood sprite?”

Jakan laughed a little, wishing immediately that he hadn’t. “Nothing so interesting. What are you doing here, Tashi?”

“I live here.”

Jakan gazed about him. “Here?”

“Well, no, not here, but just over there.” She pointed over the ridge to the west. “This is my special place.”

“Special place?”

She nodded, a serious frown on her face.

Jakan gave a wry smile. “How far away is your home, Tashi?”

The girl waved her arm in a vague arc. “Not far.” Her face grew suddenly red and her hand shot to her mouth. “Oh, I shouldn’t be telling you. You could be dangerous.” She swung back up the bank.

Jakan’s heart faltered. She couldn't go now; she was his only hope. He tried to stand, but the pain of it made his head spin. He sat again, taking a deep breath.

Tashi stopped, reaching a hand towards him. “What’s wrong?”

He kept his voice as calm as he could. “I had a bit of a fall. If you could get me help, I’d be very grateful.”

She nodded eagerly. “Stay there. I’ll go and get Papa and my brothers.” Without waiting for an answer she ran, over the ridge and out of sight.

He smiled to himself a little. Stay there, she had said. There was no chance of him going anywhere else without help.
Did you send this child, Arrakesh?
He leaned his head on his arms and shut his eyes.

***

Jakan’s eyes shot open as he heard a deep voice calling Tashi back. He rolled onto his side and looked up the ridge. A tall, dark-haired man, whom Jakan guessed to be Tashi’s father, strode towards him, leaving Tashi and two teenage boys standing at the top. One of the boys wheeled a handcart. The man carried what looked like a metal pipe at his belt, but as he came closer, he pulled a long knife from it and pointed it at Jakan. A shiver of apprehension ran down Jakan’s spine.

He wet his lips and forced a smile. “Good morning, sir.”

The man stopped about ten paces from him, still pointing the knife. Vague memories of Varyd’s descriptions of Carlikan weapons came to Jakan’s mind. This must be a sword of some sort. He relaxed a little as the man lowered the point of it to the ground.

“Who are you?” The man’s voice was gruff, distrusting.

Jakan decided a formal answer might be best. “I am Jakanash, of the Fifth Tribe of Arrakesh.” Being a Treespeaker would mean nothing to this man, he surmised, and anyway, could he still claim that title?

The man cocked his head to one side. “Arrakeshi? We see a few Arrakeshi coming this way, but they’re young. It’s rare that someone of your years comes out of the forest.”

 “I am rather past my youth, but I’ve reason to want to reach Garuga.”

“Garuga is a very long way from here.” The man’s grip on the sword loosened and his shoulders dropped a little.

“Yes, but I’ve injured myself and can’t walk.” Jakan pointed at his ankle. “I’d be very grateful if you could help.”

The man stepped a little closer, keeping the sword down, but obviously ready to use it if necessary. “Can you prove you’re of the Arrakesh?”

Jakan looked up, startled. “What else would I be?”

“Bakshi spies have been known to travel this far inland. I’m not taking any chances.”

Jakan’s eyes narrowed as he tried to remember what Varyd had told him of the Bakshi. At last it came to him. They were the peoples of the Island of Baksh, who had undertaken numerous raids on this land in search of gold. They were also purported to have taken prisoners as slaves back to their land. Jakan could understand this man’s caution, when his family was in possible danger. He pulled at the collar of his tunic, lowering it to show his totem tattoo.

“This is the mark of my tribe,” he said. “I have no other proof.”

Without a word the man sheathed his sword and came forward, shouting over his shoulder, “Brod, Evyn, over here.”

The two boys appeared again over the ridge, followed by Tashi, who stayed close to the younger one.

“I am Roduph Hudd. I apologise for my manner. I believed you to be Arrakeshi from your voice, but the Bakshi are a devious lot.” He stopped in front of Jakan, his face now full of concern. “Are you badly hurt?”

Jakan shook his head, pain spiking down his arm as he did so. “I don’t think there’s anything serious, except my ankle which is badly sprained.”

Roduph turned to the older of the two boys, as tall and dark as his father, with a surly look about him. “Brod, ride over to the village and fetch Hekja. Tell her it's important. A man from Arrakesh.” He grinned. “That’ll get her running!”

Brod nodded and moved away without a word. Tashi moved around her other brother now, her eyes wide. “Are we going to take him home, Papa?”

Her father cast Jakan an amused look. “My daughter loves caring for the sick and wounded. I hope you won’t mind being treated like a pet rabbit for a while?”

Jakan grinned and shook his head. As long as he could move some way towards Garuga, he would be happy. Roduph turned to his daughter. “Tashi, run and ask your mama to prepare a bed for our guest.”

With a little giggle of delight Tashi ran off.

***

The bed they lay Jakan on was softer than a thick autumn carpet of leaves. As his aches and pains ebbed a little, he looked about him, marvelling at the rounded mud-brick walls of Roduph’s house. A stone table and benches in the centre dominated the room but there was little other furniture. His bed had been put by the fire and the warmth of it soothed his muscles.

Jakan shut his eyes and tried to relax, conscious of Tashi’s ever-watchful eyes. He could hear her mother, Merida, moving quietly about the room. They were waiting for Hekja, whoever she was, and until she arrived he had been advised to rest.

A clattering noise in the cobbled yard brought Jakan’s eyes open. Tashi jumped up and darted out of the door. With more grace, Merida also moved to look out. Roduph and the boys were talking, but their words were unclear.

A few moments later, Tashi skipped back into the cottage. A small, stooped woman shuffled in after her, dressed in clothes as grey as her hair and carrying a large woven string bag. She muttered a greeting to Merida before glancing over at Jakan. Her sharp, brown eyes, set deep into her leathery face, seemed to look straight through him, and he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

Without looking away, she came straight over to him and seated herself, with some difficulty, on the stool Tashi had run to place beside his bed. She stared into his eyes for a few seconds more and Jakan felt a strange feeling of recognition. Yet he was sure he didn’t know this woman.

After placing her bag on the floor next to her, the old woman surveyed him up and down, as if trying to assess where to start. She started suddenly, leaned forward and grabbed his wrist.

“Much is awry when a Treespeaker leaves the forest!” Her voice was high and thin, as if worn by age, and Jakan was surprised to note the familiar Arrakeshi lilt. He swallowed, readying himself to ask her the question that sprang to his lips, but she dropped his hand quickly and bent to rummage in her bag. She took out a small bottle of brown liquid and held it out to Merida. “Put two drops of this in a bowl of warm water and bring it to me, please.” She turned to Tashi. “And you, my little helper, find me an extra pillow for our patient’s head and a blanket to raise his foot.”

Tashi ran off through a door into another part of the cottage. Jakan remained silent. The woman intrigued him, but the look in her eyes forbade questions. By the time Tashi returned, Merida had the bowl filled and handed it to the woman. Tashi dropped the pillow and blanket beside her. “Here, Hekja.”

“Thank you, child.” She made no attempt to pick them up. Instead she dipped cotton into the bowl and began dabbing it at the wound on Jakan’s brow. He winced, for the ointment stung. Tashi gave a whimper of concern and he shook his head at her.

“It’s fine.”

She tried to smile, but her bottom lip quivered. Gritting his teeth, Jakan resolved to show no more pain.

Hekja turned to Tashi. “This potion will stop any infection.”

Having cleaned the wound, she worked methodically down his body, bathing any scratches she could see. Jakan remained silent, watching her face, a thousand questions racing through his mind. Who was she? Why was an Arrakeshi woman living here? An Arrakeshi woman with healing skills? Why did she look at him that way? It was as if she knew him, but he knew she didn’t.

At last, she reached his feet. He swallowed a scream of pain as she went to remove the boot but she didn’t hesitate. For the first time, Jakan looked away from her. Tashi clung to her mother’s skirt, her face pale. He gave her a pained smile, then tilted his head back on the pillow and shut his eyes. He clenched his teeth as Hekja rubbed a potion into the throbbing ankle. The ointment sent heat right through his foot. The pain eased a little, but began to throb again as she bound it tightly with a length of cotton. When she had finished she reached for the blanket and rested his foot on it with a gentle massage of his toes.

“You won’t be travelling for quite some time; you know that, don’t you?”

Jakan pushed himself up onto his elbows, despite the pain in his shoulder, and shook his head. “No, I have to get to Garuga!” His heart thumped faster.
Curse Beldror!

The old woman gazed at him, her eyes full of compassion. “You need to heal,” she said softly.

With a strangled sigh, Jakan lay back on the bed, staring into the domed roof of the cottage.

“Now, I’ll look at your shoulder.”

Jakan stared at her. “I didn’t tell you my shoulder hurt. How did you know?”

Hekja didn’t answer, but turned to Merida with a conspiratorial look. “Don’t let me keep you all from your chores.” She cocked her head towards the door. Merida gave a nod of understanding and beckoned Tashi outside.

As the door shut behind them, Hekja turned back to him and began to loosen the buttons on his tunic so that she could check his shoulder. She stopped suddenly, and fingered the pouch around his neck.

Jakan grabbed her hand. “Leave that be.”

The old woman gazed at him, her eyes soft. “Why would I tend your wounds and then take the one thing that is keeping you alive, Treespeaker?”

Jakan released her. “Who are you?” He looked around the room, ensuring they couldn’t be overheard. “What do you know of this?”

Hekja continued to stare at him for a few moments. Once again he felt as if she were looking through him. He shuddered a little, but held her gaze. At last, she looked away.