Part 33 (1/2)

He reached out for the trunk of the giant old elm, his fingers spread wide, reached out with toes and knees, reached out and grasped it in a bear hug. He clung to the rough bark with all his strength.

He expected to fall, to dash his worthless brains on the ground below, but he didn't. His fingers, like his arms and legs, were full of life, and he clung to the trunk like some great, four-legged insect.

It was odd. He had to breathe like he was straining under a great weight, but it did not feel like a great weight. It felt easy and natural.

He looked down. While he hadn't made the branch he was aiming for, he was high enough to be covered by a large block of leaves.

Lightheadedness washed over him. He was panting. Hyperventilating. But he couldn't stop. He felt dizzy. The world below began to spin.

He was going to lose his grip.

Talen closed his eyes. The fat branch above was not so far away. If he could get to it and rest, he was sure the lightheadedness would pa.s.s.

Talen gripped the tree with his arms and legs and s.h.i.+mmied up. He found it easy as climbing a ladder. In moments, with barely a sc.r.a.pe of sound, he reached the branch. With a final move, he pulled himself on top of the branch and straddled it. He looked down and couldn't believe his height, nor could he see a way back down.

He looked about, trying to catch his breath. But the breath wouldn't come. He was panting, straining, laboring for air. He was suffocating.

The edges of his vision began to blur.

Talen struggled for another breath, but he couldn't get enough air.

He couldn't breathe!

And then his vision narrowed and the last thing he thought was that he'd better collapse onto this branch squarely because a fall from this height would surely kill him.

26.

Baker's Herbs TALEN FOUND HIMSELF face-first on the branch. He was still straddling it, still panting, but not suffocating like he had been before. He reached up and felt the wetness on his cheek. He'd bloodied his nose. Bloodied a small circle of the branch for that matter.

The men stood below him. ”He's not here,” one said. ”There's not one leaf that's bent out of place.”

”Then he jumped out earlier,” said the one who had first commanded Nettle to stop. ”Where is he?”

”I told you,” said Nettle. ”He's headed west. They've got family out there.”

”Maybe we'll take you along just to make sure.”

”Have they arrested my father?” asked Nettle.

Talen heard one of the men spit.

A beat pa.s.sed.

”No, they haven't,” said Nettle. His voice changed. It rung with confidence. ”My family dined with the warlord's just last week. We're set to dine again. Maybe I should pa.s.s your names along, let the lord know you have issues with his choice.”

They did not immediately respond to Nettle's threat.

One finally spoke up. ”We're wasting time here.”

”He's not telling us something,” said another.

”Interrogate him then. I told you we should have broken up into groups. I'm going back to look for spoor along the trail.”

Saddles and harness creaked below as men mounted up. A horse stamped its foot.

”I'm going to be watching you,” a man said. Talen thought he recognized that voice, but couldn't place it.

”Good,” said Nettle. ”Then when it comes to it, we'll know exactly where to find you.”

The men urged their horses forward with grunts and clicks, and then the horses thudded away.

Talen watched them through the trees, but dared not say a word. Perhaps it was a ruse, one or two of them staying behind. So he waited. As he did, the itch to move began building in his limbs again. Or maybe it had never gone away. His breathing had eased, but he was still light-headed.

”Talen,” Nettle called up.

Talen didn't dare move.

”They're gone.”

Talen looked below to see if any of them were hiding.

”Talen,” Nettle hissed. ”Get your Koramite a.r.s.e down here. We need to put some distance between us and that pack of goat-s.h.a.ggers.”

Talen looked at the ground so very far below. How in the world had he gotten this high? ”I don't know how to get down,” he said.

”Jump,” said Nettle. ”I'll catch you.”

Talen smiled. And it was enough to take the edge off his fear. He saw a branch he could let himself down to. He s.h.i.+nnied up; he could s.h.i.+nny down. And so he carefully made his way down to one of the monstrous lower limbs and then down to the ground.

Nettle held a hand to his ear. Blood stained his fingers.

”Did they cut you?”

”You owe me,” said Nettle. He pulled his hand away. The ear was b.l.o.o.d.y and sliced.

”Goh!” said Talen. ”That's going to require sewing.”

”Just get into the wagon bed.”

Talen put a hand on the sideboard and sprang over. ”We're not going to be able to take the normal roads home.”

”Brilliant deduction,” said Nettle.

”And there's something else.” His legs, arms, his whole body itched to move. ”I'm not quite right.”