The Ultimate Linguist

by T. Mason Gilbert

lined the back fence. How in the world could a mini-jungle have grown there in the week since we had left on vacation? Abby’s husband, Wayne, had always kept their yard immaculate.

  I noticed a pathway through the dense foliage that led to the gate in their wooden fence. As I walked toward it, the gate swung open of its own accord.

  Okay.… That is just creepy, I thought.

  Our neighborhood abuts the vast Chattahoochee National Forest. Most of the neighbors I was familiar with had no gate leading into the forest. In fact, most people had built block walls to keep out any unwanted wildlife. But Wayne had put in a gate because he liked to take his two boys on hikes through the woods.

  “Help me … help me.”

  I shuddered; the pleas for help came from the forest. Against my better judgment, I made my way through the backyard jungle and into the forest. Its shade only partially cooled off the summer heat; the stickiness remained.

  I had walked through the forest only a few times with Cade and my kids. The forest was home to bobcats, coyotes, bears and other critters, so we had told our kids to stay out of it unless they were with an adult. Those few times it had seemed like any other wilderness area: a mixed forest of pines and other trees like maple, oak, walnut, cypress, dogwood and cedar. For some reason, today the forest seemed more dense and dark, and gave me the heebie-jeebies. Some strange looking blackish-green ivy had made its way from tree branch to tree branch, blocking out the sun in most places. Little patches of sunlight made their way through the ivy umbrella, transforming the forest into a shimmering canvas of green and yellow spectral light. It could have been described as magical, I thought, if it hadn’t felt so foreboding.

  To top it all off, the woman’s voice was now much further away. A well-worn path told me that this route had been traveled often. I began to jog toward the sound of her voice and it grew louder; I had to be getting nearer.

  The forest grew darker the deeper I ran into it. The cries stopped abruptly. I slowed my pace and headed to the point on the pathway from which they had last emanated. I heard some rustling far off to my right, and I left the path to push my way through the underbrush toward some movement in the bushes.

  I called out to her, “Daisy, it’s Allyson, your next-door neighbor. Are you okay?”

  Moving through the thicket proved difficult. The eerie feeling of tiny little hands grabbing at my pant legs unnerved me. I felt like a teenager who has been talked into a joy ride with some shady friends and is now wondering, how did I get here?

  The next time Daisy calls for help, it’ll be nine-one-one, I thought.

  I heard faint voices. I stopped for a moment and listened. Two people were talking. I noticed a shoulder poke out from behind the large trunk of an oak tree. I carefully circled my way around the tree to get a better look at who it was.

  I spied an elderly charcoal grey-haired gentleman wearing a light yellow T-shirt and some forest green overalls. A red bandana with black and white paisley designs covered his head, and over his left shoulder extending down across his chest to his right side was a large brown leather pouch. Facing away from where I stood, he whispered to someone unseen. I couldn’t see the other person, and although I heard her hushed voice responding to him it didn’t sound like Daisy.

  When I had him in full view he stopped whispering and said, “You should be better in a day or two.”

  Without thinking I said, “Who will be better in a day or two?”

  It wasn’t until after I had spoken the words that I realized the oddity of what had just occurred. The man had spoken in some unknown language (Chinese, perhaps?), but somehow I had understood exactly what he had said, and—even more bizarre—the question had come out of my mouth in the same language.

  Before I had time to puzzle over my new language skills, the man turned around and smiled at me benignly. He looked Asian, and his demeanor eased my fears somewhat; the feeling I sensed from him was one of kindness and compassion.

  Suddenly I wondered if I had dozed off while reading Tangible Storm. I pinched myself just to see if I was dreaming but the micro-pain I experienced gave me my answer.

  The small Asian man saw me abuse myself and said, “No. You’re not dreaming.” He smiled again and winked, his voice soothing my mounting trepidation. “And it is very odd that you can speak Oak. Few can. To answer your question, I was speaking to this Boina here.” He indicated the oak tree. “She has been a little under the weather with a touch of Microsphaera.” The man held up an oak leaf that had some white powdery substance on it. “It’s just a bit of mildew, really. I gave her something for it. She should be better in a couple days. The substance is not usually detrimental to an oak unless it builds up over time, and it’s quite therapeutic to you and me.”

  He smiled and popped the mildewed leaf in his mouth with a flourish and began chewing.

  “Really?” I asked.

  He gagged and spit out the half chewed leaf. “No. Yuck. Ishy-bottom pie. That was nastier than I thought it would be.” He chuckled to himself.

  He fished a leather bota bag out of his satchel and arced a long stream of purple liquid into his mouth. He held it out. “Care for some plum wine?”

  I shook my head, “No. Thank you.”

  He returned the wine bag to his shoulder pouch, and bowed like a courtier.

  “My name is Kimchi,” he said.

  The same name as the Korean side dish, I thought.

  He laughed and slapped his knees. “I’m only kidding you. Do I look like fermented vegetables? I’m Peabody, the Arboralum of the forests. This one is Rindera Forest.”

  “An Arboralum? Is that some sort of tree doctor?”

  “Oh, it’s much more than that.”

  I figured he was kidding me again. I knew this was the Chattahoochee Forest, so I ignored his joke for the moment. For all I knew he could be mentally imbalanced, or maybe even the kidnapper of the old woman.

  “Whatever. Did you see an old woman come this way?”

  A shadow crossed his face. “I’m sorry to tell you that you’re too late, Allyson. Your friend is not here, but she does need your help. When you saw her today it was her last trip of impermanence. I’m afraid that without your help others may die. They may be dead already, but the High Seer said they may yet live.”

  His words rocked me with dread. What was all this talk about death?

  “Where is she?” I asked, beginning to worry that I had gotten myself into something I shouldn’t have.

  “Your friend searches for the Cloven, who have captured her family,” he said.

  “What is the Cloven?”

  “The Cloven are the fearsome warriors of the Cloveneich tribe that live in the Antien Mountains far to the south. Your friend awaits your help. Her quest is now yours.”

  “Quest? I’m not on a quest. I was only trying to help an old lady who I thought was in trouble.”

  He smiled and his eyes twinkled. “And so you shall. Just continue on the path that you have been traveling on. Help will find you if your heart is true.”

  “Look Mr. Peabody …”

  He frowned. “One name. Just Peabody.”

  “Okay. I get it. Like Cher or Beyoncé. Look. This is not what I signed up for. I’m not sure what is going on here, but I have kids to pick up from school and they’ll have homework. And Cade will want his dinner on time or I’ll be for it. So, I gotta get home because I’ve got a pot roast to defros …”

  Peabody stood up straight and seemed to grow in stature. His voice deepened.

  “I am the Arboralum, Master of the Great Forests. The Lady Gail of Thunzarya awaits your help. While you are in my forest you are in my safekeeping.”

  Gail? Is that Daisy’s real name? “Listen to me. I’ve made a mistake. When I get out of here, I’ll call nine-one-one and send some help. Where’s the path I came in on?” I asked, looking around.

  I had lost my bearings. Far off I heard something running through the bushes and it was coming our
way. A large animal bounded through some trees straight for Peabody. It looked like a fox but was the size of a huge wolf. Peabody bent down slightly to listen to the animal. I could not hear what was being said. He nodded and the animal leaped away.

  “I must go now,” he said.

  “But I …”

  A green fire erupted on Peabody’s overalls and he began screaming trying to slap it out. I was horrified and looked around helplessly for something to smother the fire.

  “Roll on the ground,” I said.

  Peabody started laughing hysterically. “That gets them every time,” he said. He continued chuckling as the green fire encompassed his entire body. “See? It is harmless.”

  “Okay, Sandler. You’re a barrel of laughs,” I said.

  The green human torch frowned then said, “The way back home is forward, Allyson. Once a quest has begun, it must be finished. To return home you must find the Lady Gail. Relinquishing a quest could have dire consequences for the questor. The only way out is to continue through to the end.”

  The scene was unreal. Peabody glowed green, like a cartoon victim of radiation. The master of the forest grew brighter and brighter and uttered these strange words like a prophecy:

  “Once you get through my forest, you will see a little golden-yellow creature sitting down by the river and listening to the sound of the river flowing by and look up in the sky to see two eagles soaring by. Speak to the creature and follow his instructions. He will show you the right way. Your friend needs you. Goodbye.”

  The