CHAPTER SEVEN

The Stranger

The tattered figure who stood in front of her now, gestured with one quizzical hand, plunked on his hip. He leaned more onto his staff with the other hand held over its tip. Grey and brown layered robes hung over a large belly, tied round the waist, and many things were strapped to his body. His full rounded beard wiggled as he talked. "What are ye doing here by yourself, Girl?"

Shocked, Qello froze and shrank back towards the stream bank.

"No, no. No need to fear Trader Joe," the man said. "That was a jump. My! What is it you are doing here?"

"That's mighty dangerous there, by the river. You see what could happen? You could—" He paused and gestured downstream. Trader Joe saw the look of her face and dropped his crooked arm, wishing he hadn't said such a thing at all. "I came up to the river when I heard the big roar. I was knowing, in an instant, what must have come down. I wanted to see how much damage was done."

But his hawk had been alerted to something else. He'd seen through its eyes—the strange lump on the far side of the river, draped in the silt. It still lay on the bank.

Qello's face told the tale, all too well. There had been somebody with her. Someone lost now—judging by the stricken look in her eyes. The girl he saw remained wide-eyed—lips tight.

Trader Joe still tried to prompt her. "Careful, is all. Oh gosh. Well, never mind. Can I be of any help there?" A long silence followed his question. "Answer me, Child. I don't mean you no harm." He started to move towards her, but became caught on a broken stub he was passing. "Widget! —Oh, help, now— Maybe—" He fumbled with his pack, hooked by the branch, as he tried to get closer, but then changed his mind and moved off to the clearing. "Come this way, Lass. Come sit for a moment. Let me rest. Give your feet a good rest, too." His eyes took in her bleeding soles. "You look like it took 'em—that river," then added quickly, "Your boots, I mean. Can you tell me what happened?"

Qello said nothing, but she wanted to believe the safe sound in the man's voice. She moved, unsteady, keeping her distance, and perched on a smaller bent-over tree, parallel to the man. There she stayed, a good two wagon-lengths from him, and well out of reach.

"I see you're still worried about old Trader Joe, but no such thing as—" But geese honked loudly above and he didn't finish his sentence. Qello looked up to the sky, instantly, almost forgetting to keep her eyes on the man in the woods.

"Well, I see you can hear all right. Do you eat? I'm not going to say ah bothered with so much goodness for food for just me, but I just got a special gift, here, from my last visit to Quan. Only dried fruit cakes, but I could spare you some, if you need. All has nuts in." He held his arm out, giving her a chance to reach for the meal.

Qello didn't speak and pulled her hands back.

"Ah, come on, there, Child. Ain't gonna bite you. Here! I'll put it on this here stump, closer to you. Don't jump," he said, although she was already up and off like a rabbit.

Into the trees! Qello found a huge root sticking out and ducked in behind it.

"No, no. I won't chase you." The surprise food item went down on the stump, just as Trader Joe had said and back he went to his sitting spot. He plunked himself down. "See now—is just gonna sit here and work on my wood stuff." He settled down and started to whittle. "Here, I'll tell you a story." He knew she could hear him.

They sat in silence, a bit longer, the Trader occasionally whistling, and occasionally not, while he planned what he carved. The girl needed his help. She was likely to run. He could see how frightened she was. He needed to get her calm and to trust him. He slowly began his tale.

"Once, far away in time and place, two young, barely grown apprenticeship Mages, Belun and Jarith, found themselves on a mission to save their deeply loved world. Such a huge task it was, for two so young. Training—well, yes. They were trained, but not in the dangers and deceptions of power hungry 'greedigs' and misers! They had none of that, in the place they were from.

An old expression, 'thrown to the wolves' comes to mind, yet wolves are kinder, especially one to another.

The boys, with their trusted teacher, sailed across the uncharted seas in search of a spell that would return their dying world to them, as they had been charged. Once the long searched-for spell had been found, they were bound for home, but as their ship neared its port, it was struck from the blindside. It ran aground and lilted to starboard."

Qello listened to the owl, nearby, that hooted, much too early for the twilight, between silvery mountains.

"The boys and their old teacher between them, made for shore, exhausted and soaked. As they dragged themselves from the brine, they were set upon by strangers and captured. Imprisoned, they were kept in a cavern.

When an interrogator was sent, he opened the heavy wood door and recognized the faces of both of the boys, looking so much like their father. Apologies were followed by food—a banquet, to the hungry young boys, who now for the first time heard stories of their father's adventures. As the night wore on, the boys revealed that they had returned with the 'spell'! Their new friends' behaviour changed immediately, however, and the three of them were hastened to a 'secured' cavern, barely larger than the first. Whisperings were all about them! Were they now in a prison or sanctuary? Their 'protectors' were not saying. They seemed fearfully excited."

She hadn't heard this tale. Who were these boys? Where were they from? Qello was curious to learn more about the Teller of tales in the woods. Could she trust him? Would he help Muma? What would this man's story reveal about about who he was? She listened more closely.

"A runner was dispatched to inform their leader of the boys' return. Eventually, their adventure and the large meal, took its toll and the boys fell asleep. Short hours later, when they awoke, one of the boys, Jarith, was missing. The heavy door stood ajar, their captors, also gone. What dark forces had set upon them as they slept? Why had they been sleeping?"

Trader Joe's voice trailed off and he became reflective—with a moment's distraction. He soon had finished whittling a stick figure man. He was absorbed—almost forgot he was waiting for her to come from the trees—when, from the corner of his eye, an arm shot out and he saw the food disappearing. He smiled, imperceptibly—just to himself.

It seemed important to him that he should not move nor speak, lest he frighten the girl. So he allowed himself to forget to finish his story and continued to carve in silence, purposefully looking much more intent and then brushing small chips off, before he held his work up. He admired the small stick figure.

"And there! I made you a funny picture of Trader Joe. Want you to see it up close. Maybe on the stump, here—if I place it?" And he put the small treasure he had just made for her down. The girl didn't move from the trees, only watched, but when he was quiet—he could, occasionally, hear her chomping and nibbling, like a small chitmonk.

"I'm going to need to go off and light a fire soon—before the cold and the dark come. Won't have as much moon, as we had last and t'other night." He was emptying his shoulder bag to accommodate wood. "Look. You been standing there for long an' ever, now. Somehow you gonna need to come out. You gotta be sorting your thoughts? What do you think? Stretch your legs an' get comfortable? I'll build the fire and you go off and do what you has to. I have some extra leather here. Perhaps, next, I'll make some kinda shoes or something to wrap around those feet o' yours. You hear? I'll be back in just a few minutes."

Trader Joe got busy with finding more for his fire and at last Qello felt she could take a chance, while she could still hear him moving about; and, indeed, she needed to stretch. She had stiffened.

When she did try to move she could hear a guttural noise come out, loud, on its own from her throat. The pain in her feet was extreme and the idea of having some shoes became less of a want and more of a need. Muma, I'm sorry! She was only able to hobble a couple of steps before she crouched behind the biggest tree, concealing herself in safety. She waited. Now, feeling she knew where he was, she slid down, leaning against the tree while the old trader gathered and clomped through the brush.

She might have fallen asleep or lost consciousness for a time, because the light seemed to be dimmer when she awoke and she was really stiff now and far too cold—so cold, she no longer cared about moving. She was weak. She shook and felt dreamy.

"All right," Trader Joe called. "You there? You got a house of your own, now."

And, being more afraid that she had completely lost track he was there, Qello looked around the tree to see what had happened.

Trader Joe could see her peak out and gestured toward a small lean-to tree shelter, close by the bigger one he had made for himself. "Come on," he said. "Come on. Try it. I'm getting more firewood. Have a look. See if you like it!" He sounded winded and he strode off into the bush.

Qello listened, as he cracked and crunched a branch, here and there. She longed for the warmth of a fire, more than she cared to stay hidden. She let him move off a way and got down on her knees, crawling, checking behind her, to see what he was doing. She had been sure to listen for his return, but Trader Joe had not gone as far as she thought. She had just about made it to the makeshift shelter, when he returned, at small distance off from his camp, in the tree line.

He came back quickly and before she could get anywhere else, he said, "Got you some green boughs for your bed, instead. Here." He hacked off some of the spiky bits, with a knife, layering the evergreen soft parts, while Qello watched, from a few feet back, but he didn't look towards her, at all. He was testing the springiness and softness of boughs and then moved to test the branch mattress on his own shelter bed. She moved to the opposite side behind the lean-to, half-concealed, still nervous to be around him, but not making it far, given her feet, and now, her knees were getting quite raw.

Trader Joe could still see her. "Those feet look might messed, Girl," but he said it like it didn't matter much or he deliberately made it seem unimportant. "I'll continue my story, if you'd care to hear more—"

"So, back to Jarith and Belun. What dark forces had set upon them as they slept? With dawn still off in the distance, Bel began to recognize the dangers involved in doing the right thing. They must find Jarith first, before knowing whom to trust, before revealing the spell to their father's friend Mannon—if he still lived.

"They had returned to the land of their father's, but they were strangers to it—its customs, its hierarchy! Its underworld, which they now found themselves in, wasn't explained or provided for in their up-to-now training. This depravity hadn't existed so much in their father's time, either. The 'hard times' had long ago been forgotten. Where was Jarith? Who had taken him. Why? Who would help and who would harm them? Too many questions for Bel. His old teacher seemed overcome with a sense of failure!"

The story was paused, again, as the trader stuffed more branches into the shelter, tearing the younger growth off and using it for padding. When he finished with his bed, the fire was lit, and then he was off, again, for more collecting. He was long gone for his third round since Qello had come to, this time trudging much farther.

Unable to reason, Qello impulsively, crawled in on her strange little bed and fell unconscious—asleep in only one moment. She never heard what happened to Belun and Jarith. For that matter, she barely knew the night had passed. Her only awareness was of pain. Sometimes she heard the fire crack or the Trader's voice. Sometimes she would cry out in the dark and then, immediately fall back, unconscious again. She dreamed she was back in her own home, slumbering in front of the fire.

When Qello awoke in the morning, she felt as if only minutes had passed. She jerked her body over to look right around. The Trader was gone. The fire still had embers and fresh wood on it, but there was no sign of the man, nothing but an empty shelter and a couple of leather bundles on the stump, and something laying between those. He'd taken the extra moss from his bed, somehow dried, from his body or from heat of the fire, and left it in a pile, out of reach of stray sparks, laid down beside her shelter for her obvious use. There was no sound but the fire.

He's abandoned the camp! Why is he gone? I was trouble for him. She should have been relieved to be alone once more with the forest, but instead found herself crying. She had no one again, to help her help Luu.

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Thank Om for Trader Joe! - appearing out of nowhere and exactly when Qello needs him. Hmm, do you think it was a coincidence or does fate have something in store for our Qello?  Share your take on this in the comments.

Intrigued?  Suspicious? Entertained?  Leave a star below to let me know that you're being pulled deeper into the story.

In Chapter Eight | Grit, Qello's determination to save Luu drives her up the mountain.