David leaned over, heaved, and brushed hot cinders from his hair. What the hell do I think I’m doing? This fire isn’t my problem. Almost surrounded by flames, with one line of escape, he spun around, terrified. Where’s Dark Eagle? Damn, I’m alone. Gotta’ get out of here. He looked up to see the fire racing through the tops of the trees over his head. Little time left for escape.
A horrendous crash. An enormous section of a tree ripped free and fell from the top branches, crashing in a shower of flames across a Taryn bridge. A small figure huddled there, silhouetted in horrific relief against the inferno. The bridge shuddered. The child wailed. His face, illuminated by the fire, twisted into a stark mask of terror.
“Oh, mother of Creation!” With a sick feeling, knowing no way to save the child, he turned and ran.
After a few feet, he glanced back. What he saw brought him to a halt. At one end, the bridge tore loose in an eruption of fire, flinging splinters of sparks down through the dry foliage. The child screamed in panic. Cries from a lower branch answered. A lone female, with a smaller child clinging to her neck, frantically ran from branch to branch below the burning treetops. She screeched to the child above, holding out her arms.
The bridge fell. The child jumped.
David’s heart lodged in his throat as he watched the child fly through the air. The mother reached for him and caught the fingers of one hand. For a time, that seemed an eternity, the child dangled mid-air with flames crawling up his body. Then a fiery branch fell, searing her arm and tearing the child away. The anguished howl of the mother joined the scream of the child as he plummeted to the ground.
“God help me, I can’t run from this.” He surveyed the ground under the tree as he ran. Thank Creation it was clear. He reached the tree where the figures stood on limbs twenty feet above him. With arms outspread, his head thrown back, he screamed, “Jump!” The grief stricken mother teetered over the edge of the branch, searching for her fallen child. Her long skirt flamed and she brushed at it. The child she held in her arms began to wail. Eyes wild, she looked down at David, held out her child, and let it drop.
As soon as he landed in David’s arms, the little Taryn scrambled up to his shoulders and wrapped its hairy arms around David’s head. Pushing the limbs from his face, David looked up in time to see the woman jump. The baby wasn’t heavy and the woman was very small, but the impact when she hit his chest knocked him to the ground. Before rising, he yanked at her flaming skirt. She released the waist tie and David it jerked from her body.
David grabbed her hand and started to run, but her screams stopped him. He turned to see her hobbling on one leg. A bone had ripped through the skin of her thigh. His head pounded—they were going to die. He leaned over and flipped her across his shoulder.
He staggered and attempted to scream for help. Only a croak from him joined the mother’s moans. Eyes afire, tears streamed down his face.
Burning branches rained from the top of the trees now. The smoke choked him. He leaned over, and ran. Struggled for enough oxygen to survive. He stumbled to the place he had visually marked as the escape route. Gone, it was gone. Fire surrounded them. David dropped to his knees and sobbed.
Well, I tried—I really tried.
On the third day of working with the tree, Troy awoke to the rumble of his stomach. He slid his tongue across his dry, chapped lips and they stung. He sat up and worked his jaw, trying to moisten his parched throat. He needed a drink to wash away the acrid taste of smoke and ash. An aroma of exquisite flavors tantalized his nose. His mouth watered and he stumbled to a small Taryn woman doling out something soup-like with hot, crusty bread.
Twittering, she handed him a mug of a light, rosy-colored drink similar to the refreshing light wine served at the palace. He drank it in one long swallow and held out the cup. She refilled it and handed him a bowl of meaty stew. Troy nodded his thanks and walked away. Still exhausted, he reclined against a tree and tried to eat, while considering the recent activities with the oak and the priest.
During the nights, Ol’ Argley awakened him often to demand his service. Over time, as Troy continued to merge with the tree, the man’s demanding arrogance changed to courteous respect. Troy learned the circle of strange people somehow passed on his messages to fire fighters through the sparkling stone, only three feet in diameter. Fatigued with their efforts, they fell asleep where they sat until restored, then pulled themselves upright, and began to work again. Always, at least six men or women attended the stone.
As he studied the mages, a small slender figure dropped to his side and gripped his wrist. Surprised, he turned to her. “What are you doing here, Awel?”
She managed a smile, although she looked as tired as he was. “Same as you. Helping.”
“What can you do? Are you a healer?”
“I can heal, but I’d rather work in the relays—to guide the fire fighters, to let them know where everyone is, and forward the information your tree gives.” She smiled while tucking her long silver-white hair beneath her hood. “Troy, you’ve saved many lives and will receive much honor from everyone, including the king.”
“All I want is to be allowed to go back to our ship.”
“I hope you get what you want.” Awel stared at him, a crease forming between her eyes. “Why are you frowning?”
“Do you really think your people will let me go after what I’ve done with the tree? I do not think so. That angers me and what your brother did angers me more.”
She turned to him with flaring eyes. “Alpha and Omega, whatever did my brother do to upset you?”
“He knew that if he told anyone of my ability it would, in all probability, trap me here against my will. In spite of that, he told Brac about it.”
“Oh no, my friend. Don’t you realize that as strong as the Arglwydd is, all he had to do was to take one look at you and know. Even I, when first seeing you, sensed something different about you. No, Eiddyl didn’t have to say anything.”
“Of course. Why did I not think of that? All along, I have believed Eiddyl betrayed me, that I would be trapped here as a slave to your country’s needs.”
“That is rather insulting. How could you think such a thing about us? My father would never, never do such a thing.” Her furious expression turned into a grin. “That doesn’t mean that he won’t do everything possible to convince you to stay.”
Awel gave his hand a pat and stared vacantly off into the distance. A shadow flickered across her face and she turned to Troy. “Have you heard from David?”
Troy dropped his eyes, ashamed. His friend’s plight had been the farthermost thing from his mind. “Is he okay? Has he been injured?”
“No, not hurt. David’s become quite a favorite among the Lako. Don’t worry, Dark Eagle will protect him. Have you seen any of the Lako men yet?”
“Many ordinary people don’t look like your family. Are they Elfin? Taryn folk are short, hairy, and sturdy. The mages or priests, whatever they are, seem to be Elfin.”
Awel gave a tinkling laugh and placed her hand on his knee. “People with my coloration are called Elfinista. We, as well as the ones you consider ordinary, are from the Elfin Realm.”
“Okay, which ones are the Lako?”
“They’re the large men, some as tall as you—are beardless, dress their hair with beads and feathers, and are quite handsome. You’ll find the names they give themselves interesting. They fancy names honoring their spirit guides—usually animals. They are fierce fire fighters.”
“Did you bring Kyla with you? I have not seen her.”
“Oh yes, and she’s also proving to be quite useful. She has an incredible ability to decipher languages and find creative ways to communicate with differing people. Kyla spends her time in the medic tent where Taryn assist the healers.” Awel’s voice rose in enthusiasm. “We have never seen anyone communicate in their language. We call it bird-talk and always tho
ught it impossible to learn.”
Awel smiled at Troy and patted his hand. “Do you realize we’ve conducted a long conversation with no trouble understanding? It’s certain that your work with the mages has sensitized you to mind-merge. You seem to understand our language as well as Kyla does. When will you start speaking it?”
“I’m practicing with that ziggy priest. Tell me about the Taryn. I thought a small Taryn we saw on the trail was a child. I realize, now, it was a teenage boy. He carried some kind of dead animal on his shoulders and ran up the side of a tree. An amazing sight.”
“Oh no, he ran up steps carved in the trees leading to their villages. Although we don’t understand much about their home life, we benefit in trade with them. Women, left without a mate, often work as servants in the Elfinista or other households. The men without families serve as scouts and are prolific hunters for our army.”
“I find that to be interesting—fills me with fascination. If I were more adventurous, I would like to visit them up in the trees.”
Awel stood and flicked a bit of cinder from Troy’s hair. She glanced at him. “Maybe, someday we can arrange that. Well, I’ve been away long enough—back to my duties.” Troy watched her until she entered the tent and then fell asleep before finishing his food.
It seemed only minutes passed when Arglwydd Brac shook him awake. He stumbled back to the great oak to face the intense emotions of the tree. It always scoured his mind with the forest’s message of grief, horror, and incredible thirst. He recoiled from the torment as the merging stabbed into his mind and exhausted his body.
In the midst of the usual communication, an image flared throughout his mind overcoming everything else. David struggling, caught in fire, dying. The tree fired the knowledge of his friend’s location vividly. He gasped, bent over, and held his head.
Brac put an arm around his shoulder and drew him away, his empathy soothed Troy’s sorrow. I saw that, my friend, let’s hurry to the mage stone. I’ll send a message to a fire priest to call the dragons and the men forth to save your friend. The mage’s calm words gentled Troy’s frantic worry.
As they ran, Brac said, “Rain is on the way. The priests and priestess have called upon Alpha and Omega to bring the rain clouds and gather them to the west where the fire rages.”
Back at the camp, Troy watched exhausted fire fighters dwindle in and collapse wherever they could find a space within the camp. Soot covered all of them and many were injured. One of the white-robed priestess healers, accompanied by sturdy Taryn women carrying a basket of supplies, circled among the arrivals to determine each man’s needs. She assigned some to the healer’s tent, some were placed in hammocks near the stream, and others simply given food and drink. Everyone’s ability to maintain order and quickly take care of fire fighters awed Troy. It was a massive operation.
He became curious as men with festering burns received treatment and almost at once returned to the firefight. A large man with long black braids shoveled down food one-handed, while an Elfinista woman slathered an ointment over his free arm. Troy squatted beside them to watch. The man flinched and grunted when the priestess ran her hands across his wounds, but continued to eat. Just as Troy decided the patient needed hospital care, the burned, blackened skin turn to red, to pink, and then the healing became complete as he watched.
Unable to believe what he saw, he decided to visit the healer’s tent to observe. Inside the tent everyone scampered around in frenzied activity, and the smell of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air. A double row of twenty cots, each side of the tent, held moaning and whimpering men. Small Taryn women spoke in twitters and warbles, bustled back and forth, bringing basins of clean water and bandages to the robed priests and ordinary women treating the fire victims.
Mid-way the tent, Kyla knelt by a man, her hands and the front of her apron covered in blood. She held together an axe wound while a priest held a small glowing stone and slowly moved his hands inches over the gash. The blood subsided and the wound gradually closed into a clean, thin, white scar. Kyla looked up at Troy, wide-eyed. “Miraculous, isn’t it?”
She stood up, swayed in exhaustion, and held out a hand to Troy. “Let’s take a break and talk. I haven’t stopped in twenty-four hours and need something to eat.” She took off the apron, wiped her hands on it, and threw it in a large basket.
He put his arm around her and led her from the tent. “I can recommend the soup and bread with enthusiasm. The wine is pretty good, too.”
“No matter. I could eat rocks and drink acid about now.”
They walked to the stream for her to wash blood from her arms and hands. Then Troy led her to the cook pot and held her bowl out to the small, dark woman stirring the soup. To his surprise, Kyla warbled a bird-like sound, to which the woman returned with a musical warble. He looked around for a quiet place to eat and gestured to a space beyond the crystal workers. When they walked past, Kyla asked, “Have you figured out what those people do?”
“They use that stone as a method of communication over long distances to the firemen. Whenever I get a message from my talking tree, that old man by the group runs to the group and relates it to them. When sound waves were first sent over the air for long distances, crystals were used. I believe there is some connection, but this is not my area of expertise.”
Kyla dropped to the ground and took her bowl from Troy. She took a long drink from her cup and said, “Everything is incredibly bizarre, isn’t it? Salves that heal burns on contact, stones that close wounds and mend broken bones, and all these diverse people working together with such efficiency.”
“Yes, I find it all hard to believe. Only now, have I gained trust in my ability to communicate with a tree.”
“That must be an amazing thing to experience. Do you feel any affinity for the tree or it for you?”
Troy laughed. “When it let me know David was in danger, I appreciated it so much I hugged it.”
She smiled and poked his arm. “Yeah, but did it hug you back?”
He couldn’t look at her. “Something happened. Sometimes I feel as if it comforts me.” Shaking his head, he said, “Forget it, I’m losing my sense of reality.”
“Okay, but I’ll want to hear more about it when you feel like it. Have you heard from David and the king’s sons?”
“No, and I’m worried for David. If he gets hurt, I don’t know if his body will heal like these people.”
He thought of his vision, but decided not to worry Kyla with it.
Troy reached over and wiped a drip of soup off Kyla’s chin. “I do not think this healing has to do with the physical make-up of these people. They seem to be as human as we are. As hard as it is to accept, this ability, or whatever it is, it heals as if it is magic.”
“Awel can do it, too. I’ve seen her do amazing things and everybody seems to expect it—to take it in stride.” She wiped up the last of the soup with her bread. “Guess we need to get back to our work. Do you think anyone on the ship will believe any of this?”
Troy stood and pulled Kyla to her feet, saying, “I’m here seeing it and can’t believe it. Brac told me rain is coming, maybe the fire will end soon.”
“Oh, damn Creation!” She pointed, “Look, isn’t that Cymry on the litter being taken toward the tent?” She started running before the sentence left her mouth.
Arglwydd Brac called to Troy before he could follow her. Kyla’s horror at seeing Cymry injured flooded his mind as he accompanied the Lord into the forest to commune with his tree. Was she getting into something for which she was unsuited and incapable of dealing with without great pain?
* * *
Kyla entered the tent, her heart in her throat, and ran toward Cymry. While the stretcher-bearers placed him on a cot, she quickly washed her hands in wine and hurried to his side. He lay unconscious, his breath labored. A white-robed priestess rip
ped open his tunic and laid her ear against his chest. Frowning, she said, “Let’s hope his lungs aren’t burned and he’s only suffering from smoke inhalation. Kyla, wash his face so I can see his color.”
With tender strokes, Kyla cleaned Cymry’s face, her throat tight and her vision swimming from unshed tears. As she brushed cinder from his hair, Awel came to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Kyla, let’s cut his garments off and treat his burns. Don’t worry, Bethan works wonders with healing lungs.”
The priestess asked them to place all the pillows they could find under Cymry’s shoulders to ease his breathing. The three determined women worked together without further speech. As the priestess moved her hands slowly across Cymry’s chest, from the bottom of his rib cage up to his sternum, Kyla thought she could hear his breath coming more easily.
Abruptly, he sat upright, coughing, and gagging. Frightened, Kyla looked at Awel, whose face relaxed and she smiled.
She reached over and took Kyla’s hand. “This is good. It hurts, but it’s good."
When he finally dropped to his pillows with tears streaming, Cymry gasped, “David came through the fire for me . . .” He passed out.
Awel went to other victims while Kyla sat by Cymry’s bed and refused to move the rest of the day. The gray color left his face and his breath deepened. Then she became aware of her behavior. Her tears, her panic, and sitting by Cymry throughout the day seemed peculiar. What’s going on? Are the planet’s special forces driving me crazy?
When she thought of what Cymry said about David, she felt remorse for forgetting him again. She rose from her seat by the bed and went to every man that came in from the fire to ask about David, but no one knew his location or even if he still lived.
Three nights passed after the prediction of rain. Midday, Kyla felt fat drops of water splatter against her arms. As the rain increased in intensity throughout the afternoon, she watched men stagger from the forest into the compound as she searched for David. Without a thought to modesty—small, sturdy Taryn men, slender, elegant-bodied Elfin, as well as tall, muscular Lako men dashed to the stream, scattering soot-blackened and burned garments along the way. They submerged their bodies and dunked their heads in the water, shouting in glee. As they exited the water, Taryn women handed them towels and clean tunics.
Again, Kyla circled among the men, asking about David with no results.
Most of the forest fire subsided and men continued to arrive the next day as the rain continued to slow. Dark Eagle, the enormous man, who seemed to have adopted David as they fought the fire side-by-side, rushed David into the clearing. David appeared to be in good spirits as he observed the spectacle at the camp through red, swollen eyes.
The small Taryn’s legs straddled his neck, waving his arms over David’s head, whistling in delight. An old woman dashed up and held out her hairy arms. She and David struggled to pull the child free, but he gripped his savior’s neck. The spectators cheered and clapped their hands at the unusual sight.
Kyla appeared at his side, her lips trembling.
“What’s the matter, aren’t you glad to see me?”
She looked up at him, her eyes liquid. “I was so worried about you, and no one could tell me you were all right. What are you doing with a young Taryn wrapped around your neck?”
“He has stuck to me like a leach ever since we and his mother managed to survive a fire. Can you help this little woman get him off me. Maybe his mother is in the medical tent, they brought her out from the fire before I left. Her burns are extensive and her leg is damaged.”
Kyla held her arms out and twittered to the child that his mother was in the tent. Excited, he jumped from David’s shoulder into her arms with frenzied twitters. She passed him to the Taryn woman who dashed toward the medical tent.
She smiled as David bowed theatrically to the crowd that still sporadically cheered while he walked to the stream’s embankment. He looked around, his face red, and didn’t strip as had the men around him. He dashed into the stream fully clothed. He gasped at the cold water, and before he could gain his breath, hands reached out and dunked him.
Awel walked up to Kyla and took her hand. “The poor man. Wait until he goes through the cleansing routine.”
When he surfaced sputtering, one of the men jerked his tunic over his head and scrubbed a rough, pine-scented bar of soap into his hair. Men surrounded him cheering and clapping his back. Before he could gather his dignity, he found himself stripped, cleaned, and on the shoulders of his huge companion. Kyla stood back, watching the men bringing him up the bank of the stream. Troy and the three royals stood in the rain cheering. He had become a hero in a world and in a situation of which none of the people from the Adventurer could’ve dreamed about two weeks before.
Kyla sympathized with his embarrassment but laughed when he shouted to the man beneath him, “Put me down, Dark Eagle!”
When his feet touched the ground before the mob of delighted people, he attempted to cover more of his body than his hands could manage. He visibly cringed when Awel walked up to him, her sparkling, blue eyes raking him head to toe. With a smile, she held out a clean tunic and laughed while he scrambled into it.
The rain came to a desultory stop as the last of the firefighters reeled into camp. By midnight, everyone had bathed in the stream and gathered around the campfire, ready for food. A huge banquet spread across several wagons. Almost emptying the medical tent, men bandaged and limping, joined in the merriment. Before everyone piled their plates high, the thrum of drums sounded, accompanied by cheers of joy.
Kyla sat on a log by a cook fire. Troy and David joined her. Troy clapped him on the shoulder. “How do you like being a hero, buddy?”
“A lot better than facing the wrath of the Council. I understand you’ve made quite a name for yourself with your tree talking.”
“Yeah. It’s been quite an experience, for which I have no explanation. My fellow botanist used to kid me about my abilities with plants. They swore that I must talk to them. I never thought much about it—just seemed to know what the plants needed. I do not dare tell them of this experience when I get back. They will swear I have gone insane, or worse, they might believe me.”
David pointed. “Look.” Dozens of men and women began dancing to the beat of the drums, winding around the several fires. The air rang with voices of jubilation. Troy’s body jiggled and he patted his foot to the rhythm.
“I think those drums are causing my prehistoric genes to vibrate,” Troy said. “Here comes a Lako woman that looks healthy and strong. Oh, my God, David, she has her eyes on me. What am I going to do?”
“I suggest you dance with her, if that’s what she wants. She’s almost as big as you are— probably a lot stronger. After seeing them work in the forest, I firmly believe she is capable of forcing cooperation.”
Before Troy could decline, the woman grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. Kyla laughed when, to her complete surprise, Troy began cavorting—a wilder side exposed, which no one knew he possessed. As more drums joined in, Troy’s whole body vibrated with the rhythm. Most amazing of all, he danced with a woman and it looked completely natural.
Awel walked up to David, sat down beside him, and watched the dancers. Kyla said, “I don’t believe what I’m seeing. Look at Troy. I’ve never seen him act like anything but an old fuddy-duddy professor, before this.”
“What is fuddy-duddy?” Awel asked.
David laughed and put his arm around Awel. “What she means is Troy’s always very serious and tends to lecture like an old teacher—he has no sense of fun or humor.”
“Well, he’s certainly having fun now. He keeps up with the Lako woman quite well, and the Lako are famous for their dancing.”
Her face puckered in intent concentration, Kyla watched Troy. “David, doesn’t it look as if Troy is enjoying more than the dancing?”
David, who only had
eyes for Awel, said, “What?”
“Darn it, watch Troy. Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
“What are you talking about?” Awel looked to David and Kyla in confusion. “It’s only a man enjoying a woman.”
David grinned. “Exactly. Well, well, will wonders never cease?” He turned to Awel. “Let’s take a walk over to the tent where there’s light. My arms and chest are burning. Will you see if they need some of that magic salve?”
Kyla said, “Of all the sneaky…” David pulled Awel away, grinning back over his shoulder at his shipmate.
Just as Kyla wondered how long it took to put medicine on non-existent burns, Eiddyl and Cymry joined her. Cymry smiled down at her. “Wouldn’t you like to dance, Kyla?”
Thinking he was much too sick to dance, Kyla shook her head. “Thank you. I’d like to, it looks like fun, but I’m really too tired. Why don’t you two join me in a cup of wine on this lovely log seat nature provided?”
Cymry said, “Eid is uninjured and is one of the best dancers around. Please join him. I’ll sit here and wait for you.”
She hesitated, but Eiddyl laughed and pulled her to her feet. They joined a circle dance leaving her breathless and laughing within minutes. The men went down into a squat, threw out one leg, bounded up, and repeated with the other leg. Across the circle, she could see Troy hold his own. As the men performed this strenuous activity, the women gaily circled around them. Soon, everyone joined hands, circling the campfire, executing intricate steps.
Kyla struggled to keep up and breathe at the same time. Eiddyl finally led her back to Cymry. “Brother, we need to spend a lot of time dancing with these sky people if they expect to keep up with Argelians.”
Kyla smiled, taking a deep gasping breath. “Maybe you’re right about me, but Troy seem to be keeping up quite well.”
Eiddyl excused himself to find, as he said, a “wild woman” that could keep up with him. He danced away.
When Kyla returned to the log beside Cymry, he took her hand and pointed up into the trees. Tiny Taryn youngsters, some no taller than a foot, crowded the limbs above their heads dancing along the branches in rhythm to the music. Some youths had absconded with cooking pot lids and banged them together in time with the music while twittering melodiously.
“My god, isn’t that dangerous? Don’t their parents know?”
Cymry laughed and said, “They never fall.”
Chapter Nine
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