Chapter thirty

Tamaranti

 

The light was fading by the time they saw the curve of Tamaranti harbour.  The long seafront was a crumbling tumble of broken rock and vegetation; where once boats had been tied up there were now long rows of Maritime Pines, looking as though they had grown up from the sea to conquer the land. Viola had no idea where they were going to moor.

The rowing had eventually worked out well enough. Potentilla was a quick learner and as she was as least as strong as Dom they soon developed a reasonable stroke pattern.  Also, the skipper had been right about the flatness of the stretch of ocean; there was scarcely a ripple on the surface of the sea.  The sun set slowly as they made their way towards the dark land.

Viola stood uncomfortably in the back of the boat, scanning the horizon with great care. She knew that they would have to find a place to land soon but the options seemed very limited: as they got closer there were fewer and fewer mooring places. None of them liked the idea of having to pull themselves ashore among tangled thick vegetation in the dark.

Kath had been persuaded to sit up in the boat and was staring out to sea. The fear of being followed had temporarily trumped her thalassophobia. The fact that she had seen nothing suspicious at all, however, had not quietened her worries.

‘Can we please hurry?’ she moaned. Everyone else ignored her. Dom was beginning to tire and he was amazed to see that Potentilla seemed to be able to keep up a steady stroke for as long as it might take. He needed a brief rest but was astonished to find that he didn’t want to admit to having less stamina than she had. He wasn’t generally a competitive person, but for some reason – this was different.

The dark pines loomed ever higher above them and Viola knew that she would have to make a decision very soon. Why had she chosen this bit? All there seemed to be was an awful thicket of roots and bushes.  Eventually she saw a small gap in the foliage and what seemed to be a stretch of intact dock.  As it turned out it was fairly easy to glide the boat alongside the rocky surface and tie it up on a cracked mooring post. 

Dom jumped up onto the shore and held the boat steady while the others scrambled off. Kath nearly tipped the boat over in her rush to get out but in the end they all made their way safely to dry land. Kath kissed the ground beneath her feet and began to giggle uncontrollably.

‘Shhh’ whispered Viola, ‘let’s keep a bit quieter until we know exactly where we are…’

Kath shot Viola an aggrieved glance but shut up. Dom peered round in the half darkness.  His voice was even quieter than Viola’s.

‘We can’t leave the boat here…’

Viola nodded and the four of them pulled it awkwardly out of the water. They dragged it a few dozen yards up the beach. There was no obvious path leading down to this part of the shoreline so they flipped it on to its front, piled some dead branches and leaves on top of it and left it. Only a very keen eyed searcher would have any chance of finding it.

The sun was very low on the horizon by now and there was very little light. They tried to make their way up into what they assumed would be the ruins of the town, but they got no farther than a few dozen yards up the slope.  Potentilla was keen to light a couple of their lanterns and struggle on, but Viola wouldn’t allow her to, and so they slept in the middle of the fringe of maritime pines, wrapped up tightly in their blankets under the clammy dark trees. 

 

***

Viola awoke with a start: there was no-one on guard! It was still dark. She sat up and looked around – there was nothing to see, but she could hear faint voices. 

‘It be elves’ said one voice in rather rough Archaic Elven.

‘Aye, it be likely’ said another, even softer, equally coarse, voice, ‘they must have come in that boat we see there’

‘Aye, surely it is so…’ said a third voice

‘What are they doing now, coz?’ asked another

‘I cannot see, but I think they sleep – all is quiet – we should rest ourselves until they are awaking’

Viola felt suddenly cold; these voices seemed very old and somehow strange. Where exactly were they coming from?  By a strange trick of the night, or of the forest, it seemed that they were almost immediately above her. She stood up with immense care, somehow avoiding the many sticks and branches underfoot, even in the dark. She strapped on her short sword, equally noiselessly. She knew that if she made any sound then her companions would awake, and then they would make far too much din and alert the speakers.  She shivered – she really wanted to find out who they were before her party was awake.

As her eyes became accustomed to the light, she realised that it was now the earliest morning twilight and that, in fact, she could see clearly enough. She waited until she heard the voices again and made her way carefully towards them. In this light she was almost invisible and she made little noise, but she still could not see the source of the voices.  Eventually she slipped out into an open area beyond the fringe of pines. She stood at the very edge of the trees straining to listen again. That was odd – the voices still seemed to be above her – she could only conclude that whoever it was must be sitting in the trees. Sighing, she stepped out into the grassy ride and turned to look up.

‘Hello?’ she said, firmly but not too loudly and in Archaic Elven. As she spoke, some exceptionally small green birds were startled out of a tree and flew off over her. They landed on a bush a few feet behind her. There was no reply.

Viola stared up intently at the tallest and broadest tree in front of her, hoping to see a tree house or a platform, but there was nothing. There was no way that anyone could have been up there. What was going on?

A soft voice came from behind her, ‘What art thou looking for, elf maid?’

Viola drew her sword and pivoted towards the voice. Again, there was nothing, just the bush full of the little green birds.

‘Who’s there?’ she asked, suspecting witchcraft of the worst kind.

The birds in the tree fluttered briefly up from their perches in the bush. It sounded uncannily like laughter.  She felt so spooked that she nearly ran back to get help. Then she looked at the birds a little more closely and a thought occurred to her – they were no larger than her fist but they were undoubtedly parrots. And couldn’t parrots sometimes talk? She felt foolish but she said it anyway.

‘Is it you talking, little birds?’

The parrots jumped up again on their bush – they were definitely laughing.

‘Of course it is we’ said the plumpest of the birds, ‘who else would be here, in this forgotten place?’

Viola slid her sword back into her sheath and bowed low.

‘I have no idea who or what you are’ she said, ‘but I am delighted to meet you’

The little cloud of birds flew over to her, squawking their greetings in a cacophony of words and squawks. Soon she was covered with green parrots, which clung on to her tightly but not too painfully. She began to laugh, in a mixture of bewilderment and delight.

‘Be careful’ she said, ‘I’m quite fragile’

 The plump bird looked down from where he was perched on the top of her head.

  ‘We mean thee no harm, we give thee our troth. But may we ask thee a question?’

Viola wondered what sort of question would be of interest to a parrot, but she nodded her agreement.

The bird stared straight into her face with his big upside down olive eyes.

‘Why hast thou left us here for so long?’