Ibryen

Chapter 18-3

Carefully emulating him, Rachyl and Ibryen were obliged to agree.

‘Did you remember to thank the trees?’ Rachyl said with heavy irony.

‘Of course,’ the Traveller replied, quite seriously. He looked up at her with wilful ingenuousness. ‘You know, I’d have sworn you’d have forgotten about it.’ He turned to Ibryen. ‘It’s nice to see young people paying heed, isn’t it?’

Ibryen however, was coping with too large a mouthful of hot root and, gaping alarmingly, was only able to gesticulate.

‘Be careful,’ the Traveller said needlessly.

‘Twice you’ve fed us now, Traveller,’ Ibryen said when he had recovered.

‘Not often I get a chance to look after people,’ the Traveller replied, a little self-consciously. ‘Especially people as hurt as you’ve been.’

Rachyl frowned. ‘We can forage for ourselves, if we have to,’ she said defensively.

‘Don’t know where to find these though, do you?’ The Traveller held up his half-eaten root and issued a challenging smile. Caught between the challenge and ingratitude, Rachyl became fretful. She looked to Ibryen, but he was drinking hastily from a canteen of water. The Traveller released her. ‘Indulge me,’ he said. ‘I’m enjoying your company much more than I thought I would, and I need to pull my weight. Besides, we might as well live off the land while we can. If we have to move upwards — and I suspect we will — we’re going to need our supplies.’

Ibryen, wiping his mouth, smiled as he watched his warrior cousin being defeated again. She was learning however, and counter-attacked immediately.

‘I’m sorry.’ she said. ‘It was a thoughtless remark. And you’re right, I’ve never seen tubers like these.’ She leaned forward and became massively courteous. ‘I’d be most grateful if you’d show me where they’re to be found.’

The Traveller inclined his head in acknowledgement, then, baring his teeth he bit slowly and deliberately into the root. ‘I’d be delighted,’ he said, with similar irony. ‘There are plenty of things I can show you as we go.’

They broke camp.

‘What did you hear in the night?’ Ibryen asked the Traveller as they moved off. The little man raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘I saw you sitting by the fire when I woke once, and there’s no sign that you’ve slept anywhere,’ Ibryen explained. ‘I presumed you were glad of the quiet.’

The Traveller chuckled. ‘I can sleep standing up if I have to,’ he said. ‘But you’re right, I was listening.’ He moved closer to Ibryen. ‘Though it’s difficult with the river so near. I’m going to the limits and there are many strange things there which confuse and mislead. But it’s still there, though it’s growing weaker. It almost winked out at one point — just before you woke, as a matter of fact.’

The reminder brought some of Ibryen’s strange vision back to him. He recounted it. ‘Do you think it’s of any significance?’ he asked.

The Traveller was silent for a moment, then he shook his head. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said, but Ibryen sensed that he was disturbed by what he had just been told and was keeping his peace until he had had a chance to think about it fully.

They walked steadily on through the day, following the line of the river. For the most part, the forest floor was quite clear, the main obstacles they encountered being fast-moving streams dashing across the valley to join the river. A brisk breeze sprang up to shake the tops of the trees, but only spasmodic gusts of it reached down to blow amid the trunks and strike the walkers. It was as though someone, somewhere, opened a large door from time to time. Conversation too, was spasmodic; the walking being easier, the three were able to sink into their own preoccupations.

Despite all the discussion that had brought him to this point, Ibryen still found himself concerned about the rightness of what he was doing. His mood oscillated between absolute certainty and awful doubt, but it lingered at neither for long, and generally calmed down to leave him with just enough certainty to keep him moving forward, with the assurance that they would not be away from the village for long. Rachyl, for the most part more concerned about the known enemies behind them than what might lie ahead, played discreet rearguard, protecting the backs of her Commander and his guide. The Traveller was quiet, though occasionally he would become bubblingly loquacious. At one such time he showed his companions where to find the tubers he had served them that morning. At others he pointed out various herbs and fungi: what a shame, this would have gone splendidly with their rabbit; this one made a most refreshing drink infused with hot water; this one an excellent poultice; this with some of that and that would make a meal that a king couldn’t better. Most of the culinary references he levelled at Rachyl, to her annoyance. Finally, he plunged into the undergrowth to emerge with a drab green leaf. He squeezed it delicately between his thumb and forefinger and, before she realized what was happening, dabbed them behind Rachyl’s ears. ‘And this just perfumes the night.’ As her fist came up he held the leaf under her nose. It brought her retaliation to an immediate halt and she smiled. Taking the leaf gently she squeezed it as he had done and held her thumb and finger to her nose. Her smile broadened and, oblivious to her audience, she followed the Traveller’s example and touched the perfume behind her ears. Then, suddenly aware of the two men watching her, she hastily stuffed the leaf into a pocket and, clearing her throat, motioned the party forward with a scowl. Later, the Traveller dropped back to join her and with a conspiratorial wink, surreptitiously folded some of the leaves into her hand.

During the latter part of the day, without any spoken agreement, they began to edge away from the river, gradually moving to higher ground. Rachyl noted the change, but made no comment.

It was early evening and they were contemplating stopping for the night when they came to a great swathe cut through the forest. Splintered and uprooted trees were scattered about as if they had been so much kindling and, here and there, boulders were visible. Somewhere underneath it all, a noisy stream could be heard. Though burgeoning spring foliage, long grasses, and creepers were seeking to repair the hurt, the cause of the damage was quite apparent.

‘More of Marris’s dust blowing in the wind,’ Ibryen said as he surveyed the scene.

‘Only a few years ago too,’ the Traveller remarked.

Rachyl looked at it sourly. ‘What a mess. It’s going to be awkward to cross, to put it mildly.’

Ibryen nodded absently. He was looking around and frowning. Suddenly he stopped and pointed up towards the peak that lay at the head of the damage. It looked ominous against the darkening sky.

‘That way,’ he said.