Forgetting about the intense experience earlier, Bane tried savouring the richness of the surroundings, riding on into the after-turns. Crawling plants covered the ground, so too small and large flowers. Fragrant and full of colour, splaying their beauty, it was a sure sign they were approaching Tarden. Sweet scents filled the air as buzzies skittered about, the whole setting a paradise. Tempted to lose themselves, but another commanding voice ripped away their tranquillity.
“Who dares venture so brazenly into the realms of Tardania?”
Halting, expecting the apparition to reappear demanding to know why they had not waited, the voice had come from in front. Hallen’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Kifter too was ready. Bane just waited, anxious.
The voice boomed again, “What is a Fife, a Hite and a boy doing so far from the protection of their mothers?”
Laughing, “Tarmon…! Where are you?” Kifter called, as if to an old companion.
Stepping out from a huge bush, a Tardanian fellow with similar features to the illumined Master earlier jumped up onto a bulge of rock coated by wild-leaf. Dressed in a murky brown outfit, a stylish cape dropped to his knees.
“Dear Kifter…, it is so good to see you again,” the fellow said, cheerful. Bounding like a buzzy-jumper, he was soon at their side. “It has been sometime.”
“Too long,” Kifter agreed, his relief obvious.
“Does this mean we are safe?” Bane wanted to know, praying there were to be no more surprises. Desires to find Hanor battled with an urge to rest. Staring at the newcomer’s domed head, apart from the female Master earlier, he had never seen a Tardanian.
“As safe as anywhere in all The Freelands,” the one called Tarmon declared, proud, unfazed by the lad’s scrutiny.
“We are tired of surprises,” Kifter said, dismounting to give the Tardanian a welcomed hug. “We wondered if we were ever going to arrive.”
“Problems on the way?”
“It is not fitting to go into details without a warm fire, hot meal and strong drink,” Kifter said, dull eyes revealing the yet to be shared trauma. “It has been a long journey.”
“When you are ready,” the Tardanian assured him. Turning, he looked at Hallen and Bane. “And who do we have with you? Is this the young man Brandor mentioned?”
“It has been a very long journey,” Kifter repeated, giving Bane a wink of comfort. “This is Bane of Manson.”
“Bane! Was not the name…?”
“In good time…, I will share all,” the Fife promised. “This is Hallen of Itab. He has been to Tarden a few times, but I do not think you have met.”
“The face is familiar,” Tarmon said, clasping the Hite’s enormous forearm. “I look forward to getting to know you.”
“Your people are fascinating,” Hallen said. “And good tempered, unlike Fifanians.”
“Careful Hite!” Kifter said, his defences easing from the strain of late.
“No doubt you are as colourful as your brethren,” Tarmon joked.
“Our reputations always precede us…, and I have no idea why.”
“Shall we walk as we talk?” Tarmon said. “My Kyboe is just beyond that mound. I have been expecting you, and was notified of your… entry.”
“Entry? Is that what you call it?” Kifter said, scarred by the experience.
“It pains me to know what you went through, but these are troubled times, and a defence of our home is paramount. What you witnessed is our first line of defence against the coming foe. Do not worry, you would not have been left to its power. Our Masters are attuned to any movements within the Fire of the Forest encircling Tarden. The first time you tried entering, if you had stayed there I would have come to you. I was already on my way when you entered again back there, so I had to deviate. This protection is a recent addition now that dark forces are at our northern borders.”
“The darkness is finally on the move then?” Kifter said. “Brandor’s fears have been proven true. Is he at Tarden?”
“Our guide, teacher and friend is at Tarden awaiting your arrival. Presently, he is in discussions with High-tard Drola and the Masters.” A glint in his eye suggested there was more to the comment. “We have our own problems in addition to the enemy.”
Arriving to where Tarmon’s mount stood, his Kyboe was a slender animal, bred for speed. Mounting, “The division between Tarden and Tardoc remains, and if not careful, the implications could be the end for both peoples if not rectified soon.”
“The dispute between High-tards Drola and Polon continues then?” Kifter was aware of the feud between the two.
“Yes. Their stubbornness surpasses all reasoning, and hinders any reconciliation. It is a pitiful situation. As rulers, they are dutiful and much loved by their people, but this friction has gone on for too long. I am sure Brandor would have come to greet you, but his struggle is an arduous one.”
“Much like our own,” Hallen said, the group setting off at a walk.
“Yes…, you have said of your own troubles.”
“For now, there is but one issue I will press you for.” Kifter kept it simple. “Have you come across a large circular pattern on the ground, as if formed by a whirlwind?”
“Circular pattern…? How big?”
“Twenty strides.”
“On the ground you say?”
“It was more than a random pattern,” the Fife explained, discouraged by his friend’s initial reaction. “The needle-seeds spiralled towards the middle.”
“Here in Tardania?”
“Yes, much further south.” This was not good.
“The southern regions can be mysterious; natural powers there are wild. The formation you speak of may well be linked to the Yarmorians, for they alone move through the area with confidence. Some Masters at Tarden say they are the cause of the problems there, but that is another issue. As to this pattern, I am sorry, I cannot help you.”
“Then to Tarden we must ride with speed,” the Fife said. “Brandor may know.”
“If not he…, then the Masters.”
“Have you ever been to Tarden, Bane?” Tarmon called behind.
Daylight fading, up ahead, a band of light stretched across their path, the forest’s end near.
“No,” he yelled above the noise of their ride, recalling Kifter and Hallen’s remarks about how splendid it was.
“Then I look forward to sharing our home with you.”
Ignoring the guilt that was already attempting to latch onto any rush of excitement, Bane felt like a child, keen to see the treed City. Temporary breaks in the trees and surrounding brush revealed unusually wide bands of green up ahead, wondering what they were. Light increased with every Kyboe stride, adding a sense of scale to the City yet to be viewed in its entirety. Rounding the last colossal bush, what was concealed amidst the flourishing woodland now lay wide open.
Easing up, transfixed by the magnitude of what stood before him, the sight dissipated any of Bane’s woes for the time being. The others slowed, enjoying the setting. Gathering at the edge of a narrow grassy plane stretching hundreds of paces in both directions, at each end, the narrow belt of land turned to follow the line of the forest, disappearing behind this mountain of green. Vast and rectangular in shape, the treed City was surrounded by islands of small bush and tree.
A masterpiece of nature, what a prize beheld their gaze, straining to take in the full glory of Tarden. Its height was that of a small mountain and its width like Freemans Lake. Bane could only guess at its depth. What stood proud before him was the Tardanian Peoples’ home. Hovering seemingly above ground, the multi-levelled city rose as if to touch the sky. Five tiers, narrowing slightly as they climbed, were the green bands he had seen a short time before. Consisting of branches and leaves, each wall enclosed a level of the city as its own. Thick bands of foliage ensured nobody could fall over the sides. Platforms were so wide they fired tender imaginations to what each section was like. Amazed, Bane could only guess at why it had grown in such a structured way. Speculating how tall it was, it dwarfed Manson.
“It is over five hundred hand-spans high,” Tarmon clarified.
“How can… something be so big?” Bane’s response was like so many before.
“The energies in the ground feed it like a living creature. Its size will move dependant on the requirements of our people. If our numbers grow, it will grow. Likewise, if they fall, it too will shrink. We are like a huge family, Bane. Much power is centred here, the essence of life flows freely. Your stay will be what you make it. There are places of solitude, with beautiful gardens to wander and ponder in, places of leisure and study too. There are activities here that can be found in any city. However, the cities of men can be unwelcoming. We have our disagreements here, but you will not find one Tardanian strike another, or take what is not theirs. We have overcome these lesser traits. Your stay should be pleasant and restful.”
“I look forward to it,” Bane said, peering up at the various levels. “Are there people up there?” Small heads were just discernible at different points on each floor.
“Yes,” the Tard said, following his gaze. “From there, you will see marvellous views right across Tardania. Come,” he said, starting off.
“This is incredible,” Bane said, captivated.
Hallen agreed. “It is quite a place.”
Riding the short distance across the grassy plane, wild-flowers and grass lined the way. Further along, a herd of large animals broke from the trees.
“What are they?” Bane asked, never seeing a creature with four legs and four gangly arms before. An oval head with a wide snout looked peculiar.
“They are Mallen,” Tarmon answered, their bulky frames agile. “An interesting creature.”
Counting forty, they began jumping and play fighting, which Bane found amusing. Eight tangled arms flailing about was hilarious.
“They are behaving like people,” Bane laughed.
“They have a temper like people too,” the Tard added, enjoying the exhibition.
“Much like our Kifter here,” Hallen joked, shoving his smaller friend.
The Fife, although wanting to savour their arrival, remained focused, fearful of how Brandor was going to react. “I cannot imagine how unbearable you would be with four arms,” he said. Surviving Brandor’s wrath a number of times, Hallen’s carefree attitude was at times to be envied.
Tarden’s base, veiled by a wall of shadow, looked even more daunting the closer they got. Suspended nearly a hundred hand-spans high, resting on the bed of darkness beneath it, the lowest and largest level hovered before them. Without external pillars or walls to support the higher levels either, each floor appeared to be levitating.
“How does it stay afloat?” Bane asked, perplexed.
“Afloat…?” Tarmon laughed with the others. “No, it does not float. You will see.”
Reaching its outer edge, some Tardanian children started waving from the second level. Passing from view when drawing near to the underbelly of the city, the thick green bands of each platform were, as Bane had supposed, countless leaves attached to trim branches. Hiding the yet to be seen properties of its formation, only when entering beneath the outer rim was the staggering truth revealed.
“Are they… branches?” he asked, confounded by the size of the main supports.
Gigantic arms stretching forth from a central point somewhere in the murky shadows in front, he could now see his error. Carrying the load of each level, there were scores of giant wooded limbs running along the entire length of the City. Upturned like a hand, at the end of each monstrous branch, finger-like branches climbed and spanned out to create the distinctive band of foliage when viewed from a distance. The design was remarkable.
“Each floor has major bearers like these,” Tarmon said.
Their diameter was that of a man’s height, and their girth could hold the weight of an army. Entering the shadows, young eyes readjusted to survey the underside of the City, fascinated by its configuration. An endless number of smaller branches ran parallel to the main ones, creating the wooden floor for the people living here. Stunned by the numbers and scale, walking deeper into the dark, the wooded limbs got even bigger. ‘What are they joined to?’ he wondered.
“Keep behind me,” Tarmon warned. “Either side of this causeway is a bog to which the City waters itself.”
Sounds of trickling water accompanied droplets splashing down into the surrounding waters. Glancing behind, reflections from outside mirrored up from the ground. Reeds and bushes sat like islets everywhere. A secondary light emerged to guide them along. Unable to pinpoint its source, it showed just how vast this place was.
Walking for a considerable distance, “Where does this take us?” the young man from Manson asked, struggling to take it all in.
Halting just in front, Tarmon and Kifter shared the same idea. Steering their mounts to the side, like two doors opening, Bane froze to what was in front. Astonished, it was the final piece to a mighty puzzle. Thinking he could not be staggered any more, up ahead through the half-light, standing like a pillar of all pillars, stood the widest tree he had ever seen. Dwarfing the Woodell trees outside like putting a finger to his leg, the colossal trunk filled his vision. Estimating it to be fifty strides across, the massive wooden branches supporting the floors above joined the hub of the gargantuan tree like that of a wheel. Sending out its mighty limbs in every direction, there were ten great beams of strength on this side alone.
Reverent, the tree glistened at different points, trickling water the cause. Moist as the atmosphere was, it was far from unpleasant, with no foul odours either. Behind, the fading light of the outside world was but a thin band of silver in the near distance.
“Come, there is more for your innocent eyes,” the Tardanian promised, setting off.
Raising his arm as if saluting someone, a slow creaking, rumbling sound croaked just ahead. Juddering, the ground seemed to respond to his call. Peering ahead and to their right, a vertical slither of golden light cracked its way open at the base of the mountainous tree, prised open as if by huge invisible hands. Opening wider, wonderful golden rays from within expanded out in greeting, shedding its soothing light upon the dirt track leading up to its entrance. Only when drawing close could Bane see the tree had stretched itself open. Gleaming, the brightness inside invited the weary travellers in. Tingling with anticipation, “This is incredible,” he said, approaching what was now an internal ramp rising up and around inside the belly of the tree.
Illuminated, the tunnel was wide enough for three kyboes abreast. No lamps were needed, the natural ambiance of the golden wall enough to light their way. Glowing from an unknown power, the intelligence of this place was extraordinary.
“It is a living city,” Tarmon said, reading his thoughts. “There are twelve of these outer trees surrounding a central one, the very heart of Tarden. The inner one is nearly twice the size, but is out of bounds for guests. Much of the mystery and power of Tarden is held within its core. Come,” he motioned, his Kyboe stepping onto the ramp-way before proceeding upwards. Kifter went next.
Bane looked at Hallen, shrugging at the detail.
“If you do not venture far, all manner of things will you miss,” the Hite said.
“I have lived a sheltered life,” Bane conceded. “Eleven others…, and a central one, where are they?” Through the murkiness in both directions, he could just discern a massive form each side before the shadows closed in. Like great stone pillars of some exotic temple, ‘If only Hanor and Nole could see this,’ he thought, missing them. The loss was not enough to undermine the awe. “No turning back now,” he exhaled, urging his mount on. Hallen pulled Hanor and Nole’s Kyboes behind.
Daring, Bane extended his hand to touch the tunnel wall. It felt oily and malleable. Pressing his finger hard, it sank into the wall like soft mud. Pulling back, the imprint disappeared, concealing his inquisitiveness. Confounded, the substance on his finger was absorbed into his skin, softening the hardness of recent turns.
“Now you know why they look so young,” Hallen said alongside. “A natural balm, in the marketplace it would sell for a small fortune. Unfortunately, it does not last long away from its source.”
“Fascinating,” Bane said, a warm glow stirring within.
“And medicinal too.”
“Yes it is.”
“We are nearing the first landing,” Hallen said. Kifter and Tarmon had already disappeared from view. “Let us be going, we have to find someone, remember?”
“Yes…, of course,” Bane said, guilty of betraying Hanor for getting sidetracked.
Encircling the tree one more time before an exit appeared, hesitating, various noises could be heard, inviting Bane to view more splendours if he dared.
Entering a clear area, Kifter dismounted and lead his Kyboe towards an opening to their left. Taking in what they could, the circular enclosure was a sizable meeting point where people could prepare for a journey. Constructed of leaves and branches, the circular wall was splashed with patterned colours of both flower and leaf. The wall itself was high, hundreds of intricate offshoots extending to the ceiling where more gargantuan branches stretched forth. Bright considering there was no direct sunlight, the natural ambience was comforting to a lone boy from Manson.
Seven archways lined the enclosure, leading to other parts of this fascinating place. The floor was solid, and it was hard to imagine that he was high up in a tree. Lines of tiny twig-sized branches, compacted for evenness, ran away from the main trunk towards the far wall and beyond.
Stepping down, Bane led his Kyboe after the Fife. The archway had a band of light-blue and purple dinka-flowers from floor to crest. Entering, another large room had others like Tarmon going about their business. Slender frames wielding unknown strengths were swift but orderly. Relaxed considering the unnerving circumstances, Bane was way out of his depth here.
Tarmon stood talking to one of his brethren, the other pointing at a doorway to their right. Waiting for them to catch up, their Tardanian host was tolerant of the stragglers.
“Through there is one of many holding bays where guests can leave their Kyboes,” he said, indicating another archway with red and yellow flowers lining its edges. “Here at Tarden, no Kyboe belongs to any one individual, the needs of all outweigh the needs of the few. Possessions are not considered worthy of attention either, but we know guests may not want their mounts borrowed for a period of time. If you have to leave Tarden in a hurry, please remember where you put them. If you ask for the Explorer’s Enclosure, someone will guide you here.” Turning, they entered.
Leaving their Kyboes to rest, Tarmon led the small group up an elaborate stairwell, Bane gasping at the size and complex designs of both the branched stairs and the columned walls reaching to the very top of Tarden itself. Rising like a funnel through every layer of this enchanted City, the stairs, coated in both flower and leaf, rose like a skeletal frame up the middle. Attached to each level were four short functional bridges for support, granting access between each floor. At the very top, the roof was pulled back, the last rays of sunlight filtering in. A reddish hue, enhanced by sparkling flowers lining the walls, masked the fact that evil would invade this place soon.
Reaching the second level, it was similar in layout to the first except there were no Kyboes. Heading along one of many corridors, a welcomed aroma of cooking meat and savoury spices tempted hunger pains to grow.
“It looks like we are heading in the right direction,” Hallen said. Hitorian appetites were renowned right across The Freelands, even here in Tardania.
“You can freshen up later,” Tarmon said, stopping just outside a large chamber. “I have sent word for Brandor to come as soon as possible. The Masters are unavailable at the moment, so you may rest and eat here.”
Entering the large Eating Hall, many faces looked up. A few nodded whilst others talked and joked with Tarmon. Large enough to seat a few hundred people, the hall seemed a popular place to meet. Some were not local, mainly men of fair complexion. A couple of odd-looking people caught Bane’s eye. Trying no