The walk from the cottage to the nearest village took about a half-day. The trail weaved through a thick grove of aspens. While much of the Riverlands were occupied by prairie and farmlands, it wasn’t uncommon to come across thick groves of trees. The forest was bright with sunlight dappling in from through the pines.
In the dense outcropping Maude tried to forget what laid to her north. Unless she turned around, the ominous cloud of smoke was hidden from view. For this, she was relieved.
Around the time they were approaching Henoble, Caris let out a deep, irritated breath. It was as if he had been saving it for that exact moment.
“I don’t understand,” he began. “There’s been wildfires before. They’re scary but this one looks really far away. Why are you so concerned about it?”
“This is different,” Finlay replied.
“How?”
“You saw it,” Maude looked at her brother. “That wasn’t lightning.”
“So what was it then?”
A shiver ran down Maude’s spine. The strange voices still lingered in the background. They were getting easier to ignore but they were still there. She wanted to tell her brother and her uncle about them, but she was afraid of what they would think. There was no easy way to explain hearing something others couldn’t–not unless she wanted to end up like Mad Mable who was known exclusively for her sudden outbursts about ‘the end’ approaching.
“Caris,” Finlay stopped in his tracks to access his nephew. “You’re probably right. It could simply be a forest fire started by lightning. But, even so, it’s best to visit Henoble and find out what the others know. We’re on our own out here.”
Caris let out another long sigh. He said something under his breath about walking to Henoble for nothing, but Maude chose not to acknowledge it.
Finlay turned and continued to walk into town. Maude glanced nervously up at the ever-growing black smoke. A chill ran down her spine. With the newfound silence, her attention returned to the voices.
“How can they be so ignorant?” asked one voice.
“The Moving are always ignorant,” replied another.
“They must learn quickly that danger is coming. Otherwise, another war will start.”
“There is always war as far as The Moving are concerned.”
Maude stopped walking, as Finlay and Caris continued onwards. She looked around her in hopes of seeing where the voices were coming from. However, all that was around her were scattered trees and tall grass.
“The Moving,” she repeated the words the voices had said. It was a curious name. She wondered what they meant by it.
“Did you hear that?” asked one voice, suddenly.
“Hear what?”
“That Walkling spoke. It said ‘The Moving’.”
“So? Walklings are always speaking.”
“But never has one said our words. They do not call each other ‘The Moving’ as we do.”
“Can they hear me?” Maude asked as she lagged back. “Hello?” She felt half-mad for saying ‘hello’ to nothing but a grove of thick aspens and a dusty path.
“Do you see now?” Whispered a voice. “She is speaking to us.”
“No she’s not,” argued a different voice.
“Hello, Walkling, do you hear us?”
“I do hear you,” Maude answered, looking up at the crowding of leaves above her. “But what are you? And where are you?”
For a moment there was silence.
“So it’s true,” said one of the voices. “The Walkling does understand us.”
“My name is Maude.” It only felt right to introduce herself. She may have been raised in a tiny cottage on the edge of nowhere, but introductions were important.“Who are you?”
“We are The Still. But you may know us as many things,” replied a different voice.
“We are the trees. We are the plants around you and the vast networks of roots that connect beneath these lands,” continued another voice.
“Trees?” Maude asked, staring at a particularly tall red pine beside her. “Trees don’t talk.”
“Not to you, no.” Acknowledged one of the trees. “But we talk to each other. Just as often as you talk to your own kin. It is odd that you can hear us.”
Maude stared at the trees around her. “I don’t understand,” she said out loud. It wasn’t every day that the trees began to talk. In fact, Maude had never heard of anyone–not even Mad Mable–talking to trees.
“It must be Dria That,” speculated one of the trees.
“What is Dria Thal?” Maude asked.
Before the trees could reply, Maude heard Finlay calling her name from further up the trail. “We need to keep moving.”
Maude glanced at the trees and then back towards her family. “Sorry,” she said, unsure if she was apologizing to the trees or the others.
By the time Maude reached Caris and Finlay, she was out of breath from running along the narrow dirt road.
“Talking to yourself?” Caris raised an eyebrow.
“I…umm…” Maude wasn’t ready to tell them that she had been talking to the trees. Instead, she shrugged, “I was just looking at that cloud of smoke. It’s gotten bigger since we started walking.”
By the time Finlay, Caris, and Maude arrived at the little river town, it was midday. The smoke cloud had only continued to grow in that time, now making the northern horizon darker than usual. Despite this, the daily commerce of Henoble continued on as it always did.
Finlay led the way through the village, cutting through alleyways and crisscrossing the town. Caris and Maude followed closely behind. It had been a while since she heard any of the trees talking. She assumed this was mostly due to the fact that there were very few trees in town.
As Finlay and Caris argued about who they should talk to first, Maude began to wonder what madness felt like. Did someone who was going crazy know they were going crazy? Did people like Mad Mable feel themselves slipping into insanity or did it happen so slowly that it was impossible to notice? The questions only made her more nervous than she already was. The looming column of smoke didn’t help matters.
Finlay came to a stop at a cob house that was painted the color of a tomato. A faint aroma of burned herbs and cinnamon rolled out from its windows. The front door was propped open just enough for Maude to see a large gray cat lying on the ground, watching them.
“Now, you two stay quiet. Tisha is a kind woman but she’s…just let me ask the questions, alright?” Finlay asked.
Maude knew it was directed more at her than it was to Caris. They nodded and Finlay walked up to the house and knocked on the door.
“Come in, dear,” answered an old voice from within.
Finlay stepped into the small cob house, followed closely by Maude and Caris. The house was a mess of half-finished projects. A bench sat under a window with bottles and measuring cups–medicine only halfway complete. Books were open on nearly every surface and the entire house smelled of smoke, boiled herbs, and something Maude couldn’t quite place.
“Tisha,” Finlay smiled at the older woman in the back of the room. “It’s been a while.”
“Yes. Why have you not visited?” She had been collecting something from the wall of shelves but turned slowly to face them. Tisha’s hair was nearly as large as she was. It was thick, surly, and roughly the color of lambswool. Her clothing was a mismatch of patterns and colors–a distinct acknowledgement to her Bardic heritage.
“You know how the warm seasons are,” Finlay explained gently. “I must spend most of my days on the river.”
Tisha ran her fingers along the sides of the jar she had taken off the shelf. It contained what looked to be a snake suspended in a viscus orange liquid.
“Are you here to buy more tea?” Tisha placed the snake jar on the work bench and retrieved a different jar. This one was a bit less frightening. From what Maude could tell, it was simply tea-leaves.
“Actually,” Finlay said, stepping closer. “I…I came here to ask you about the smoke in the north.”
Tisha froze. Her pale eyes looked over Finlay with sudden distrust. “I know nothing of the smoke.”
“Is it just from a wildfire?” Caris asked suddenly, earning an irritated glance from Finlay.
“No,” Tisha replied. “But I will not speak of the smoke in the north.”
“Tisha,” Finlay began gently. “You’ve known me for my whole life. Please, if there is danger coming, I need to know. The smoke is already beginning to cover the skies. What is it?”
Tisha glanced nervously between Finlay, Caris, and Maude but she said nothing. She went back to filling a jar with herbs and salt. Maude noticed Finlay shift his weight. The quiet was uncomfortable.
“What is Dria Thal?” Maude asked, remembering what the trees had said about Dria Thal.
Tisha bristled at the mention. Her eyes widened and she looked at Maude as the blood left her rosy cheeks.“Get out,” she said. “Get out, now.”
“Tisha, please we are only trying to-”
“I will not have those words spoken inside my own home,” Tisha spat as she glared at Finlay. “You and your family must leave now.”
Finlay, touching Caris and Maude’s shoulder gently, led the way out of the old cob home. As they left, Maude could hear Tisha talking angrily to herself. She spoke quietly but the words “old mistakes” and “wardrakes” could be heard distinctly.
“What was that?” Caris asked, glancing back at Tisha’s house.
“I’m not sure, she’s never acted like that before,” Finlay replied, obviously confused by what had just happened. “What was it that you said, Maude? What did that mean?”
Maude, feeling the eyes of both Caris and Finlay fall onto her, shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not sure…I just said ‘Dria Thal’…but I don’t even know what that means.”
“Where’d you hear those words?” Finlay asked.
“I…” she trailed off under the pressure of her uncle’s stare. How could she explain it to him? “I’m not sure,” she settled on at last.
The answer didn’t seem to comfort Finlay. He glanced around where they stood as if expecting to be watched.
While Maude couldn’t quite explain how she heard the trees utter “Dria Thal”, she knew that the words were important. Tisha’s reaction seemed only to prove this further.
Finlay stood with his arms crossed, peering down at Maude, waiting for her to explain herself. Caris looked aloof as always, only mildly happy that it was her who was under scrutiny and not him.
“Fin,” Maude began. “I don’t understand it...but I think it’s important.”
“Or it’s a bunch of witchy nonsense,” Caris snickered. “Tisha has always been strange.”
“No,” Finlay disagreed. “Something unusual is happening and we need to find someone who can answer our questions. Please, Maude, where did you hear those words.”
Maude bit her lip and looked around her. In the village, all the trees and plants were gone. She couldn’t ask them to explain themselves. The lack of voices had been welcomed, but now she was beginning to wish they were back in the forest again.
“I heard it in my head, I suppose.”
“Oh good,” Caris rolled his icy eyes. “She’s losing her mind, too.”
“No,” Maude protested. “I think it was the trees.”
“So, the trees told you about Dria Thal?” Caris repeated. He gawked at her like she had just sprouted a second head.
“Yes,” Maude looked around. “I can explain it...or try to. But...I just don’t think I want everyone in the town square to hear me.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t want them to think you’ve lost it,” Caris bit out.
Finlay nodded, “alright,” was all he replied with.
In a quieter part of Henoble, a well sat in the middle of the dusty street. There was no one around, save for a woman hanging clothing on a line that ran high across the street. Maude watched the damp clothing flap gracelessly in the wind and wondered how she was going to explain herself.
I have to say something, she told herself. But no matter what I say, it’ll sound as if I’ve gone mad.
Maude walked up to one of the benches near the well and sat down. Caris and Finlay joined her.
After a deep breath, Maude began to explain how the trees had spoken to her on their walk to Henoble. She explained that she first began to hear them on their morning hunt. Most of what they said, she didn’t understand, but she had clearly heard the words ‘Drial Thal”. Additionally, she told her brother and uncle that the trees seemed to think something bad was happening.
“Do you hear yourself. Talking trees?” Caris was clearly holding back a laugh.
“I do. I know how it sounds but it’s the truth.”
“And they seemed surprised that you could understand them?” Finlay asked.
Maude nodded.
“What do talking trees have to do with Dria Thal? What is Dria Thal?” Caris asked just loud enough to be heard from across the street.
Maude noticed two strangers stop in their tracks and glance towards them, clearly hearing Caris. The man, a Bard with long black hair, whipped his head around so quickly, that his multitude of colorful scarves swirled around him. He grabbed the arm of the woman beside him and paced over towards where Maude sat with Caris and Finlay.
Maude felt her stomach drop. They had clearly overheard the conversation despite her best attempts to find someplace quiet to talk. She suddenly wished that she had told Caris and Finlay about the voices sooner.
The Bard and his companion approached quickly.
“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” he said with a wide smile. “But I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”
Maude glared at Caris.
“Sorry,” Finlay apologized. “We were just talking about…a book that my niece has been reading.”
The stranger’s dark eyes scanned over Finlay before saying. “Is that so?” He had a look of distrust. “Because I could have sworn I heard you say ‘Drial Thal’.”
“Yes, well, as I stated, we were talking about a book,” there was a strain in Finlay’s words. Much like Maude, he was a terrible liar.
“Dria Thal is not commonly written about in any books. At least not from around here.” The stranger continued to smile, easily, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.
“She’s a skilled reader,” Finlay explained, placing his hand protectively on Maude’s shoulder. He stood and attempted to pull Caris and Maude away from the stranger. “Now, if you’ll excuse us-”
“Wait just a minute,” the Bard stepped in front of Finlay. A look crossed his face that Maude couldn’t place. “Do I know you? You look awfully familiar. You’re not part of the northern clan of Bards, are you?”
Finlay scoffed. “No, I am Meiren. I am from here. I assure you that we haven’t met.”
The Bard stared at Finlay for a long moment. His dark eyes scanned over Finlay’s clothing. “I know you, but I don’t know how.”
“I’m sorry,” Finlay offered. “But we should be going.” It was obvious that he was uncomfortable in the company of the Bard.
It was then that Maude turned her attention to the man’s companion. She was near Maude’s age with skin as dark as onyx. She wore her hair in braids that ran the length of her back–a distinctly Akarellian style. She could have passed for a Meiren if it hadn’t been for her long pointed ears and the dusting of silver-blue that shimmered off her skin along the ridges and lines of her face.
Maude had never met an Akarelle before, but she had read about them. While Meiren–like herself–were made from river clay, the gods made Akarelles out of water from the deepest parts of the ocean. They were gifted with the ability to be a part of the land as well as the sea. Maude couldn’t help but stare at the young woman and wonder what she might be doing in Henoble.
Upon realizing that she had been staring for an inappropriate amount of time, Maude turned her attention back to the Bard. Her eyes met with his, “I…I can explain what we were talking about–the truth.” The words fell out of her mouth before she had time to contemplate them.
The Bard looked surprised. He had been so focused on analyzing Finlay that he hadn’t seemed to notice Maude or Caris.
“No,” Finlay said. “Maude-”
“Maybe they can help,” Maude looked at her uncle. “Something is wrong, you said so yourself. Tisha knew it, too. I think it has to do with whatever Dria Thal is.”
“We’re headed back to the marina, will you join us?” The Bard asked.
Maude nodded, unwilling to glance at either Caris or Finlay. She could feel their irritation with her decision. While she hated their disapproval, something inside her told to follow the Bard and the Akarelle.
The marina wasn’t much to look at. It was located in the widest part of the river. An assortment of weathered docks sat empty while wind-washed fisherman organized their supplies. Small shacks sat along the banks, providing spaces to clean fish and store equipment.
The Bard and the Akarelle stopped at the docks and turned to face Maude, Finlay, and Caris.
“Well? Tell us what you know,” The Akarelle’s voice was impatient. It was the first time Maude had heard her speak.
The Bard looked at her with a raised brow before turning to address Caris, Finlay, and Maude. “Excuse my friend’s…directness. It has been a long couple days for us. My name is Pan and this is Elsi.”
Finlay took the liberty of introducing himself alongside Caris and Maude.
“Introductions aside,” Elsi continued. “I’d like to hear about what you know about Dria Thal.”
Maude looked around and realized that there was no one else within earshot. She took a deep breath and said, “The other night red lightning flashed over the northern skies. The next day there was a column of smoke in the sky and I began to hear...talking.”
“What kind of talking?” Pan asked.
“The trees,” Maude said, hoping the others wouldn’t think she was mad. “They were talking to each other and I sort of...eavesdropped on them. They were talking about something called Dria Thal.”
Pan and Elsi exchanged a look. It was an acknowledgment of something that Maude didn’t understand.
“You claim that the trees talk to you?” Elsi asked with a look of mild disbelief. “No one talks to the trees.”
“They don’t really talk to me much,” Maude admitted. “They mostly speak to each other. Like I said, I was just listening.”
“Yeah? What are they saying now?” Elsi gestured to a grove of willows that sat beside the river several yards from where they stood.
Maude looked at the trees, taking a step closer to them. She closed her eyes and listened.
“That’s the one,” said a voice.
“The one we’ve been told of? The Walkling who speaks to trees?”
“That’s the one.”
“It’s not natural. Only the ancients could do that.”
“Yes, but Dria Thal is spreading...even some of The Moving are susceptible to its magic.”
“They’re talking about me,” Maude explained. “Apparently word has spread that a Walkling can speak to the trees.”
“A Walkling?” Pan looked over at the trees skeptically.
Elsi, however, was still looking directly at Maude. The intensity of her gaze made Maude want to step away from her. “Tell me what you know about Dria Thal.”
“Nothing much,” Maude admitted. “But from the reactions I’ve seen, I think it’s safe to say that it’s something bad, isn’t it?”
“Most would say so,” Pan agreed. “But it’s curious that you can speak to trees.”
“It’s curious to find a Bard and an Akarelle passing through a small town like Henoble,” Finlay noted.
Her uncle watched Pan with a level of suspicion. It was as though he was attempting to add up bits of information he was gathering. Maude couldn’t understand why Finlay was so distrustful. He was usually the kind of man to be kind towards strangers.
“Yes, well, it wasn’t our plan to stop here,” Pan explained. “We are waiting for a ship headed south.”
“A ship?” Finlay asked. “No ships are heading south for several days. Not with the Onech ceremony approaching.”
Elsi shot an angry look at her companion.
“Ah,” Pan ran a hand through his long hair. “That explains why we’ve been waiting all day and haven’t seen a single boat on the river.”
“The people around here believe it’s bad luck to be on the water seven days before and after the Ceremony,” Maude explained.
“Is there any other way down the river?” Elsi inquired. “Could we rent something, perhaps?”
Finlay looked at the two strangers and let out a sigh. “People around here aren’t too kind to travelers. I don’t think anyone will rent you anything–especially not right before the ceremony.”
This only seemed to anger Elsi further. Her face soured and she began to pace.
“But we have a raft,” said Maude suddenly.
Elsi stopped pacing. “It’s important that we make it to Dawnellis as soon as we can.”
“Or what?” Caris asked.
“Or there will be no army save you.” The severity of her tone sent a shiver down Maude’s spine.
“From what?” Caris seemed less frightened by her words.
“That,” she pointed to the dark cloud that loomed heavy in the northern skies.
The shiver Maude felt only intensified as she looked at the darkening skies. The cloud had grown larger since they first made it to Henoble.
“The child of the sea knows what is coming,” said the voice of one of the willows.
“It is too late. What is released cannot be captured.”
“The willows seem to think that whatever was…’released cannot be captured’,” Maude told Elsi. “They say that whatever you plan to do, it’s too late.”
Elsi glared over at the trees. “I’d prefer the trees to not tell me what is and isn’t possible.”
“I’ll bring you south,” Finlay said, surprising Maude with his sudden decision. There was a strange darkness to his voice that she had never heard before. “I can take you as far as the borders of the Akarelleian capital and nothing more.”
Both Elsi and Pan looked at Finlay.
“Thank you,” Elsi replied, looking only slightly relieved.
Chapter Five: The Harvest Feast
I have been a bit obsessed with writing so have some catching up to do.
Another nice relaxing read thank you. Just what I needed to settle down at the end of the day.
There is a little whoopsie I spotted along the way, ton should be tone:
“Or there will be no army save you.” The severity of her ton sent a shiver down Maude’s spine.
So so cool to see these characters getting to interact with each other!!