Within their strange prison, more like a little cave than a tree, John and Ninester sat almost on top of each other, the sides of their faces rubbing against the rough bark. They had been scooped up by branches, massive boughs with their leaves fluttering, reaching over from the massive old oak trees at the side of the road. There had been no time to cry out, or to understand what was happening, and after one brief whizz, they were pushed into absolute darkness with the warm air closing in around them.
John said, “You come from the forest, then? You walked?”
The tree answered, “Of course. We walk at night and our roots step wide and far. We travel fast. And soon we will take you back there.”
Having all finished their breakfast, mainly served and looked after by Sherdam who made a good cup of coffee, and Bayldon who washed the dishes, most of the group went off to find their own entertainment for the day.
Poppy, thinking nothing much was happening, had gone to visit their stable of llamas. She wanted very much to learn to ride one into battle but had been forbidden. Instead, she often visited the smaller llama which had soft brown eyes, a white shaggy coat and two alert brown ears. Alfie continued learning cribbage with Columbus and the kings, and now Ferdinand joined in. Peter was playing the lute in the smaller living room, and Sam, curled on the sofa, was listening. Alice also listened, but she was in the garden, sitting cheerfully in the sunshine outside the window.
Irima, puzzled, was looking for her son. She wandered the gardens calling, “Nester, my love, where are you hiding?”
Sorezama brought her some toast. “My dear, what’s wrong? You didn’t eat breakfast.”
“Nor did my son,” Irima frowned. “Where has he gone? Is it a game, or is he in trouble?”
“I expect it’s a game,” said the other woman. “Hide and Seek, of course. Ninester loves games. And look, his puppy’s safely here.”
But Smudge was stretched on the carpet, face between his paws, in the depth of depression, and wondering what awful things had happened to his master.
Messina and Granny, Zakmeister, Tryppa and Nathan were already half way up the garden path, through the gate, and onto the pathway into the countryside. They had not told anyone else except Sherdam and Bayldon, what they were doing, since they had no wish to frighten anyone, and were hoping that everything would be quickly solved.
“Here.” Tryppa stopped and pointed. “Those two oak trees. Were they here before?”
“No,” said Messina. “I would most certainly have remembered them since they’re particularly grand and beautiful.”
“There were no trees here before,” said Granny, “only bushes. But this is where we found the broken glass jar when Yaark first escaped.”
“I don’t think it’s Yaark this time,” said Tryppa quietly. “I think it’s the trees. They come from Sharr. I spent long months speaking to the trees when I was in the forest. But I was never sure whether they listened, or wanted me there. Now I am sure this is them.”
“Why?” demanded Zakmeister. “To kill us? To hurt us? Or to live here in friendship?”
“And have they stolen John and Ninester?” wondered Messina.
“How can a tree steal a person?” said Nathan.
“I don’t know,” Granny said, “But I’ve heard of it being done.”
“I’ve seen it,” said Tryppa, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I saw a sycamore tree snap up one of the more visible Epilogs with its branches. The poor man disappeared inside the tree trunk. His wife beat on the trunk until the tree let her husband free.”
“So you really think John and Ninester might be inside those trees?” asked Nathan, horrified.
“I am the oldest living creature in Lashtang,” announced the tree quite suddenly. “My title is Soar and my acorns have given birth to a hundred more oak trees in Sharr, and have kept thousands of deer, birds and other small animals alive throughout history. But you are right to fear me, for I can do many things.”
Staring up and standing firm, Nathan demanded, “Have you captured my friends John and Ninester?”
“I have no interest in their names,” replied the tree in its deep and booming voice which seemed to come from its roots in the earth, “but I do indeed carry two of your people in the hollow of my trunk. I will return them whole if you travel with me to Sharr and meet with my own friends and companions.”
“I have recently returned from there,” Tryppa said. “Not one tree spoke to me for all the long months I spent there.”
It was the other oak tree which answered. “You came to our forest to speak with the Epilogs, not with us. You then made offers of friendship and explanation to some of us, but you did not respect our authority. Your interest was in the Epilog people, who are alien to our forest.”
“But we followed you here,” said the older tree Soar, “to offer in return the chance of understanding us and learning the art of friendship with the oldest beings on all Lashtang.”
“You shouldn’t call the Epilogs alien,” said Nathan at once. “Just like the Quosters, they were tormented by the wizards, and they had to escape. So they left Clarr and went to the forest which would hide them better. Don’t you sympathise with that?”
“Some of them chopped down our friends to build their houses and make their fires,” said Soar with a deep rumble of anger. “Only a few have attempted to understand us.”
Granny, Messina, Tryppa, Zakmeister and Nathan stood and looked at each other. They could not decide what to do, but they were all relieved it had not been Yaark that snatched their friends. Eventually Granny said, “May we speak with our two friends John and Ninester?”
But the tree rustled its branches. “No,” it said. “Not until we arrive in Sharr.”
“And what if we get to Sharr and then find out you have killed John and Ninester after all?” asked Nathan.
The tree shrugged its branches. “That has not and will not happen,” it said. “Some trust is necessary.”
“Well, I’ll come to Sharr,” said Nathan in a bit of a mumble. “I’m the empole, or at least I will be one day, and the Lord of Clarr as well. So I ought to understand everything.”
“Very well, but I need two,” said the second tree.
“Why?” Messina frowned, annoyed. “What difference does the number make?”
“You will find out if you come,” answered the tree, and everyone trembled slightly. It did not sound safe.
“I’ll come then,” said Granny. “Though I could bring myself quite easily, instead of being carried by a tree.” She turned to Messina and Tryppa. “You need to stay with Bayldon and look after the others, and play the lute with Peter,” she said. Then, “And Zak, you must protect the cottage in case more trees come, or in case Yaark arrives.” They nodded, and Granny turned back to Nathan. “Now, my dear, are you sure you want to come?”
“I do,” he said. “I want to see John and Ninester safe, and I want to meet the trees too. Now I know more about the Quosters, it’ll all make sense.”
“But you must both travel with us,” insisted Soar, “with my friend Woar. For it is only when you learn to live within a trunk of living wood that you can hope to understand us.”
Nathan was about to agree, when he was hauled up, up into the air by three great branches, and thrust within its hollow. Everyone else gasped. “Is that what you did to the others?” asked Messina. “It would have been horribly frightening.”
And then Granny was also up in the air, and disappeared into the younger oak tree.
“We are content,” boomed Soar. “We will go. Those who wish to follow are free to do so, but you will never find us within the forest.” And with a strange lift onto their many grasping roots, both trees seemed to rise higher, and began to gallop towards the horizon.”
Tryppa stared after them. “They gallop like llamas,” she murmured.
“The forest is enormous,” said Zakmeister. “Would we ever find them if we tried?”
“Oh yes,” said Messina.
“My magic would take me straight to wherever that tree is growing.” Now the two oaks had gone and not even their shadows were visible. “But,” continued Messina, “I must allow them a day or two before I decide whether or not to follow, for there are other things to do, and we must make ourselves safe against Yaark.”
Granny was almost sitting on top of Nathan, and her apron pocket was full of chocolate buttons, which she passed to Nathan one by one. “Eat up, my dear,” she said. “We need strength and courage.”
“You’ve never needed any extra,” said Nathan, trying to get more comfortable. “For an old lady, you have more energy than me, and more courage than me too. How old are you anyway? Eighty? Eighty five?”
Granny chuckled. “Horrid boy. I’m fifty nine, if I remember rightly. But never mind about that.” And she raised her voice. “Now,” she said, “if we are now to start understanding the trees of Sharr, I have a question.”
“Ask it,” came back the voice of the tree, which seemed to echo inside the hollow.
With her chest squashed and Nathan’s elbow now jiggling beside her neck, Granny had to take a deep breath, which was a struggle. “What about other trees?” she asked. “Are all trees here like you? Or only those born in the Black Forest?”
“Sharr is not a black forest,” interrupted Soar crossly. “It is a place of beauty, of light, and of kindness. We have permitted the Epilogs to live within our borders, even though they still live in places built with the lives of our friends. And in the centre of our heartland lies the rainbow which can stretch to Sparkan, and can help with many things.”
“And other trees elsewhere?” asked Granny.
“No. Other trees have no heart,” Woar said. “Only those of Sharr. The golden figs began life in Sharr, and some still retain a memory of us, but they cannot speak. And the golden figs still growing in the forest are far stronger, thicker in juice, and are health-giving beyond all else.”
“Interesting,” said Nathan. “So why?”
“We nurture our soil. We are the first of all trees. We are not as others.”
This did not entirely satisfy Nathan as an explanation, but he asked nothing else. Instead he called out to John. “Hi there, Ten Toes. Can you hear me?”
A very, very faint squeak floated back. It sounded like, “Yeh, Nat. Me an’ Nester.”
Nathan was feeling dizzy. The smell of the bark and the rich perfume of growth, leaf and earth was swamping him, and the restricted flow of air was making it worse. As soon as Granny realised that Nathan was going pink in the face, she clicked her fingers three times and muttered some words. At once the air seemed fresher and felt as though it was blowing in from outside. She repeated the same magic for the other tree, realising that John and Ninester must be suffering from the same problems. Then she said, “So the Quosters were always your friends? But trees and snakes are not natural companions. I would have thought you’d make friends with birds, not snakes.”
“The Quosters are not snakes,” grumbled Soar. “They are serpentine folk of great loyalty and kindness. They are Quosters, not snakes.”
It was sometime later after a long silence, when the trees began to sing.
“Through summer and winter,
Past sun on the glades,
Tramping or standing
As daytime fades.
Roots in the earth
And tips in the sky,
Our breath has great worth
So we live on as others die.
Our boughs make one giant hand,
Girding the heavens to the land.
Yet the acorn tiny as a grain of snow,
Grows like a pinnacle
For it’s nature’s own miracle.
We call the clouds to rain,
We call the leaves to grow,
And the Forest of Sharr is Lashtang’s brain.”
Both Ninester and Nathan had fallen asleep, but Granny and John, just able to hear each other, learned the song as they marched the northern coast. The tune was deep and gruff, but it helped to pass the time. They knew it must be night again after the long hours had seemed an eternity, and the trees marched faster. Within those hollow caves, they could feel the strides thumped down on the land, then lifted again, and gradually the scent of wood, leaf, bark and growth seemed to fade. The drip of thick sap leaked through the insides of the trunk, smelling of lemon and fresh water. “Drink,” ordered Soar. “This will quench thirst and block hunger. It is life-giving. It is precious, and our gift to our travellers.”
Moving just a little, shifting, trying to move the cramped muscles of their backs and legs, they drank the sap because, all four of them helpless with thirst and hunger, had no choice. And then, almost immediately, they felt more alive. Their aching muscles turned to gentle pleasure, as if they slid into a state of happiness they had never known before. Contented and no longer sore, they settled down to doze. When one began to sing, they all joined in but somehow they could not remember any other song. Only the one the trees had been singing.
Time passed without notice. They could not see any hint of what time of day it was, or if it was night, so they did not know how many hours had passed. It could have been weeks. They drank the sap and slept. The woke, sang, smelled the deep rich smell which seemed quite normal now, and closed their eyes within the warmth and black comfort. When the trees began to talk, they listened, drinking in the words just as they drank the sap.
“The life of a tree is slow,” Soar told them. “We are not slaves to time. We do not hope for anything except the rain and the peace of our homes in the forest. There is no drought in our land and there is no fire, unless started by people. Now you merge with us, and you will understand what we feel, because you will feel it too.”
“Reckon I’s a little Cypress,” mumbled John.
Ninester sighed. “I’m a baby birch. A silver birch. My bark is as pretty as my llama.”
“I feel old but strong,” sighed Granny. “I am a yew tree. They make the great battle-bows from my trunk. But I do not die, giving only a branch from my side.”
“Figs,” smiled Nathan. “I grow the golden figs amongst my leaves. That gives life and health to every man who takes my fruit. I help everyone whenever I can.”
“Now you understand trees,” said Woar, “and will never harm us.”
“You know our scent,” said Soar, “and will become our friends.”
When they reached the Forest of Sharr, they travelled past the trees, murmuring to their friends, and reminding them that the great meeting would be held by the rainbow early on the next morning. As finally they arrived at the heart of the forest, they stopped, and here they dug in their roots. These rippled and dived, fixing themselves deep within the earth. Then with a yawn, both trees lifted their branches and ruffled their leaves, taking and giving the breath that meant they grew again in the place of their birth.
Then they opened their hollow trunks, and Nathan, granny, John and Ninester tumbled out onto the shaded grass. It was late evening and the shadows swept the ground as the silver moon and the pink moon both slipped up behind the trees, and gleamed out over treetops and bird’s nests, over rooftops and chimneys, over flowers, bushes and shrubs, and over Nathan, his grandmother and his two friends.
Ninester was immediately asleep, his toy llama clutched in his arms. He snuffled a little but was smiling in his sleep.
John sniffed. “Tis night? Where is we? I’s waiting fer the rain.” Then he closed his eyes, curled up against the roots of the old oak tree, and began to snore.
“The yew tree is wise,” Granny mumbled. “And if I am wise, then I should sleep too.” And with a wriggle and a yawn, she also slept.
Nathan stayed awake for a little while. He was puzzled. “Am I a tree?” he wondered, “Or an empole? Is an empole a sort of tree? I thought I was a golden fig tree, but I have no fruit. That’s very sad. Perhaps I shall grow some figs if it rains tonight.” And then, last of all, he fell into a deep sleep without dreams.
/> Chapter Three
The cottage was a bustle and jumble when Passleram arrived. Everyone was running in different directions and Irima was crying in her bedroom. Messina nearly fell over the parrot/eagle.
“Good gracious,” she said, sitting down in such a hurry it almost looked as though she’d been pushed. “I was just thinking how I must send you a message.”
“You already have, my lady,” said the bird with a slight flutter of iridescent blue neck feathers. “Hermes brought the message just moments ago. He said it was urgent so I came at once.”
“I am very much afraid,” Messina said, taking a deep breath and clasping her hands in her lap, “that the small blue star you have trapped and hungry in the glass jar we gave you, is – is,” and she nearly paused, but instead gulped and continued, “not Yaark at all.”
Poppy shook her head. She had run in as soon as she heard Passleram’s voice, and now sat beside her mother on the arm of the chair. “It’s some poor little red jelly thing forced to disguise itself as a star by Yaark himself. A trick he played on Clebbster, but it caught us too. Last time we caught Yaark, but he escaped. This time he escaped before we even caught him.”
The eagle was a little confused, opened his beak, then snapped it shut again. “You are telling me, madam, that we have been carefully studying and guarding a miserable jelly-ox?”
“Sadly, sir. Yes.” Bayldon had walked over having heard the conversation from the kitchen. “But if you are unsure as to the exact details, which I would be in your position, I suggest you feed this disguised creature, and then order it to resume its natural shape. Once it is again a recognisable jelly ox, and once you are convinced that it is not Yaark playing more tricks, then you send it back to work.”
Passleram was not amused. “We came here, sir, with considerable effort and magical skills and have landed our entire meteor here in spite of resistance and complaint from many of my companions, in order to take charge of the greatest criminal of all time, the star Yaark. And instead, we have an imprisoned jelly-ox which should be outside raking the grass and sweeping the paths.”
Hide & Seek Page 2
