The Crooked Tree (Photo via wisefreaks )
A story in 6 parts.
If you would like to read it all in one (7500 words) click here.
Read On Tarryoh (Part 3) - A Foot in Two Camps here.
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On Tarryoh
Part 4
Out of the Frying Pan
As Darby stared through
the telescope Locke sat talking and laughing with the nomads like he was one of
them. He even seemed to imitate their drawl.
Darby felt around on the
ground for pebble. He weighed it in his hand and lofted it over the ring of men
at his brother. He heard the faint noise as it landed near him and saw Locke’s
head rise. He stared at him from the shadows, willing him to sense his presence.
Locke laughed at another bad joke, then put down his cup and stood, telling the
others he needed to pee. Several nomads laughed and jeered. He strode at an
angle to Darby behind a nearby tent. Darby silently crept back behind the tent
and waited. He heard the sound of a stream of water hitting the grass and a low
whistle, an old song people sang at Tarryoh festivals. The song stopped and he heard
a belt being buckled. He took a step forward half out of the shadow. “Locke.”
he hissed.
Locke spun round and
stared. “Darby?” He strode over, grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the
shadows, his voice a low whisper. “What are you doing here?”
“I came for you.”
“It’s too dangerous. You
must go back.”
“Come with me. Royd told
them what you are doing. You don’t need to stay.”
“No. I can’t go yet. The
nomads will get even more suspicious and it will all be for nothing. They still
trust me and I have convinced them they will meet no real resistance until they
reach the capital.”
Locke felt the braided leather
at Darby’s wrist. He pulled up his sleeve. “You have someone who cares about
you?”
Darby nodded. “I did. I’m
not so sure now.”
“You have grown up since
I left.” Locke’s teeth flashed white in the moonlight. He drew back his own sleeve.
“I wear one too. But I think it is too late for me. Who would wait three years
for a dead man to return?
“People think you are a
traitor.”
He sighed. “Even worse.
Still, a tree is known by its fruit, there may be hope for me yet.” He looked
around warily. “Go now. Tell our parents I am alive and I will be home soon.
The court can decide my fate.” He let go Darby’s wrist. “And don’t ruin something
good because of a fool’s errand like I did.”
“Brother...” Darby
hugged Locke then watched him saunter back into the light of the fire. Locke sat
down, picked up his mug and held it out for a refill. Darby silently retreated
toward the forest, his mind buzzing. Locke was alive!
‘Woof
woof.’ A deep bark shattered
his thoughts. He ran. The dog strained at the leash and barked harder. A nomad
rounded the corner of the tent. “Hey, you there!” He heard the dog go quiet for
moment and then the barking started again, accompanied by pounding footsteps.
The dog caught him in
seconds and leapt at his arm. Darby stumbled as he tried to dodge it, landing
in a heap on the ground. The dog stood over him, teeth bared. Three men ran up.
One grabbed the dog by the collar, the others removed Darby’s knife, grabbed
one arm each and hauled him back toward a campfire. “Lookee what we found. A
Tarryoh thief. What shall we do with him?”
A heavy set man looked
him over and stroked his beard. “Throw him in the cooler. We’ll deal with him
tomorrow.”
He was dragged to a heavy
wagon with a barred enclosure. A man unlocked the door with a large key. The
two men threw him inside. The third dumped his bag and crossbow under the
wagon. The dog continued to growl menacingly. “Don’t y’all get any ideas about
escapin’ or my dog with get you good.”
Darby rattled the bars
and looked for way out. Finally he sat and stared vacantly at the flickering of
the firelights. He lay down but the hard floor of the wagon would not allow him
to sleep. He sat up and kicked at the bars with his boots but it was built
strong, designed to hold men bigger and tougher than him. He gazed up at the lonely
moon and fingered his bracelet.
****
The scout ran up to the
campfire. The envoys, militia officers and the guardians sat drinking Kentucky tree
coffee. “Ma’am.” He stood stiffly and waited for a response.
The envoy waved for him
to sit. “Where is Madsin?”
“We found another nomad camp
several miles further back, with about five hundred armed men, and lots of supplies.
Madsin said he wanted to find his brother. I ordered him to stay but he went
anyway. I waited an hour but he did not return.”
The envoy glanced at her
deputy. “It seems he has made his choice.”
One of the militia
officers snorted. “Just like his brother. From such crooked wood…”
****
Darby started awake from
a dark dream. A grey strip was grew along the horizon beneath the black sky. He
heard a key turn in the lock. “Quickly. Take your things and get out of here.” Locke
whispered. He shoved Darby’s bag and crossbow into his arms. Darby shouldered
the bag. Locke held out a piece of paper. “Give this to the general.” Darby
stuffed it in the pocket of his jerkin. Locke pointed. “That way. And be
careful.”
Darby reached the forest
and circled back to the envoy camp. A sentry stood guard over the horses so he
kept going until, a mile away, he decided it was safe to use the road. Then he
ran all day, ready to hide in the trees at the slightest sound from in front or
behind. As night fell he heard horses approaching. From the cover of the forest
he saw the envoys and the rest of the Tarryoh party galloping toward home. He
allowed himself another rest. It seemed that the negotiations were over. Did
that mean peace, or war?
****
Read On Tarryoh (Part 5) The Die is Cast, here.
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