Tree Singer, page 1
Fifteen-year-old Mayten loves training as a tree singer, an esteemed position among her clan. But when she feels pain coming from the trees, she finds herself on an unexpected quest, one so dangerous she might never return home.
Now Mayten must use her unfinished training to face betrayal, fear, and a deadly foe. Is she a match for the ancient evil attacking her trees or will the entire kingdom fall to ruin?
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Table of Contents
About the Author
A Lucky Bat Book
Tree Singer
Copyright 2021 Jacci Turner
All rights reserved
Cover Design: E.R. Canedo
Published by Lucky Bat Books
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for the enjoyment of the person who bought it. If you’re reading it, and you didn’t buy it, c’mon, it’s really cheap; just go buy your own.
~*~*~
To David, my love. In the trees with you—always.
Chapter One
Mayten lay with her legs stretched along the sturdy limb of her favorite oak tree, the smooth bark cool against her bare legs, the rougher patches prickling her skin. She pressed her back against the thick trunk and turned her face upward as if trying to catch the sun’s warmth, the earthy woodiness of the oak tree tickling at her nose. The gnarled limbs overhead reminded her of a child with arms akimbo, jutting out from the trunk in every direction.
There was beauty in the chaos above her, sunlight weaving its way through the branches like a blessing, birds twittering invisible among the leaves.
She’d always felt at peace sitting in her auntie tree, usually with a good book, but sitting and thinking was just as peaceful.
Until today.
She’d come to the tree this morning for selfish reasons, nervous about the upcoming ceremony. She was fifteen now and would be leveling up tomorrow. Today was the last chance she’d have to simply ‘chat’ with her beloved auntie tree. She’d poured out her hurt and pain and worry just as she had for as long as she could remember.
Perhaps because she was leveling up or just growing up, for the first time Mayten actually received an answer. Not in words.
In feelings.
A rush of confusing emotions that threatened to curl her into a tiny ball.
She didn’t know what the auntie tree was trying to tell her, but there was a surety in Mayten’s bones that something was deeply wrong with her beloved trees. Not just her auntie tree.
With all the trees.
Mayten placed trembling hands on the branch beneath her, trying to ignore the way her belly churned, trying to feel what the tree was saying.
Trying to understand.
Listening to the trees wasn’t easy. Listening took focused concentration. Which was why the youngest singers spent all their time talking to the trees.
The time for talking is over, she reminded herself. Tomorrow she would begin her Level Four training. She’d learn to not only send but to receive feelings, to truly communicate with the trees.
Judging by the intensity of emotions sent from the tree, she needed to understand now. If she could understand what Auntie was trying to tell her, Mayten could pass the message along to her mother and her clan could fix whatever was wrong.
Mother is busy preparing for the Leveling Ceremony, a tiny voice whispered at the back of her mind.
Yes, Castanea was the clan’s chief tree singer and she was busy preparing for the Leveling Ceremony. But surely she would make time to listen to her daughter.
Wouldn’t she? It seemed as though her mother had been avoiding her lately.
Time enough to worry about her mother later, Mayten decided. Right now she needed to try again. See if she could figure out what was wrong with the trees.
She firmly closed her mind to the outside world in much the same way she closed her bedroom door. Closed out the sun’s warmth on her face. Closed out the chatter of squirrels amid a flutter of birds’ wings.
Then she pulled a mental curtain shutting out the insects buzzing about her head and sounds of laborers out in the fields calling to one another as they worked.
And focused on her auntie tree.
Remembering the storm of emotions, she cautiously opened both mind, then soul to whatever message the tree was trying to send.
It seemed to take an eternity, but she knew it was only seconds before her gut tightened with anxiety. Once again emotions exploded in her skull like sparks from a fire, a jumble of feelings she couldn’t identify cascading along her skin, flooding through her body . . .
“Auntie?” she whispered. She didn’t understand. Couldn’t connect what she was feeling with any sort of message—
Mayten cried out as the emotional storm intensified, striking her with stinging blows from all sides like hail from a midsummer storm. Leaving her shaking and uncertain.
“Mayten? Mayten!”
Her little brother’s voice knifed through her concentration and focus like a bolt of lightning, shredding the emotions and scattering them to the wind. Mayten startled, almost toppling from the branch. She struggled to cling to the memory of all those emotions, to somehow fix them in her mind so she could discuss them with her mother later . . .
The emotional storm faded, drifting away like dying sparks on a breeze. All she could remember of the message—if it had been a message—was what it wasn’t. It wasn’t pain she’d felt. And it wasn’t exactly fear—
She rose to her feet, knees shaking, and steadied herself with a hand against the trunk. “Sorry, Auntie. I’ve got to go. I’ll come back when the ceremony’s over.”
Mayten’s heart twisted. After tomorrow, there would be no more time for childish chats. Tomorrow she would begin her life’s work.
Levels One through Three were easy as far as she was concerned. Talking to trees came naturally to her. Her mother, apparently, expected Mayten’s listening skills to come just as easily. She’d lost count of the number of times her mother had reminded her to ‘stop talking to the trees and start listening!’
Listening was proving to be the most difficult thing Mayten had ever tried—
“Are you coming down?” Wollemi jogged up to the tree and looked at her expectantly. “It’s eventide and Mother says to come in.”
Mayten studied her little brother. He was a sight, his brown homespun pants and shirt hanging off his small frame like the hand-me-downs they were. She could tell by his flushed skin—skin the color of weak tea—he’d been running. His little nose wrinkled, squishing his dark freckles into tiny specks as he gazed up at her.
Her mother had birthed two babies before Wollemi was born. Both had died during the fever winter. Mother had two more babies following Wollemi. Helping care for the babies wore Mayten out, but Wollemi made her efforts worthwhile.
“I’m coming.” She grinned down at her brother, warmth spreading from her heart, relaxing her muscles, sending her worry scampering off into the distance. She scrambled down the trunk of the tree without even looking for a foothold.
Eventide? How had that happened? The sun was slipping away and she hadn’t even noticed.
When she jumped to the ground, Wollemi grabbed her hand with his pudgy little one and they marched up the hill.
“Are you worried about the ceremony?” Her brother raised his eyebrows, brown eyes dark and serious.
“No, not for me,” she finally said. “But I am worried about Tray.”
Mayten swallowed the lump suddenly clogging her throat. If all went as planned, her best friends would level up tomorrow as well.
And everything would change.
She, Tray, and Cather had been best friends since birth. On the morrow, Cather would be called to be a healer like her parents but Tray wanted adventure. Tray’s dreams of being a traveler would be fulfilled, Mayten was certain of that. It was what he wanted, and she wanted it for him as did Cather.
“Because he’ll be called a traveler or a quester and leave you and Cather at home without him?” Wollemi asked.
Mayten marveled at Wollemi’s insight. How could her brother be so young and yet so keenly in touch with her worries?
Wollemi’s pink tongue pushed through the hole where his front tooth had been only two days earlier and his eyes sparkled with excitement. “Maybe . . . maybe you’ll be a story singer like Taiwania or a quest taker!”
Mayten ruffled her little brother’s wild brown curls. He knew the story singers were valued in the community, almost as much as the questers, those brave men and women who explored beyond the clan.
“I’m a tree singer,” she said in a firm voice. She was a tree singer, like her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. A surge of pride washed over her. She hailed from a family of singers. Singers helped the plants grow, thrive, and take shape. Her da sang flowers and shrubs, and her older brother, Oleaster, sang the harvest.
“I’ve always wanted to be a tree singer, nothing else. As tree singer, I’ll get to stay here forever and that means I’ll never be taken from you.”
She stopped walking and pulled Wollemi in for a tight hug. She felt close to all of her siblings, except for Taiwania, but she felt extra protective of Wollemi.
Voices from somewhere ahead caught her attention. Mayten glanced at the house crouching among a sea of yellow daffodils overlooking the clan’s valley. Perched on a small hill, the house that had started as a one-room cottage had been added to as their family had grown, and grown, and grown. Great wings
Da had sung those flowers, making sure their home was constantly surrounded by blossoms that budded and bloomed at different times of the year. She drew in the sweet scent of honeysuckle, anticipating the time when tulips of every imaginable color, and some colors only her da could imagine, would carpet their hill.
A breeze lifted her hair, bringing with it the spicy tang of eucalyptus. She loved the forest of oak and eucalyptus bordering the house and garden on the left. Oleaster’s bountiful groves of fruit and nut trees stood in a line to the right of their home.
Beyond the house and garden, stretching to the base of the pine forest, grew the flowers and shrubs her da raised for trade along with the pine seedlings her mother planted to replace the forest cuttings.
Mayten loved her home. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. She had no desire to be a quester. No desire to leave. Not ever.
Wollemi hugged her hard, then stepped away, taking her hand in his again. “Then tonight when I sing to my stars, I’ll sing for you to be a tree singer!”
“Thank you.” Mayten nodded at the house. “Looks like Mother tired of waiting.”
An enormous dog bounded down the hill toward them. His tan-and-white chest heaved as he ran, pink tongue flapping, and curly tail bouncing, barreling toward them like a wild boar on attack. The dog drew near, then suddenly circled behind them and barked at their heels.
“All right, Anatolian, we’re coming, we’re coming.” Mayten laughed as she and Wollemi raced the rest of the way up the hill.
Chapter Two
The smell of baking bread made Mayten’s stomach growl as they stepped into the house. Da was baking his famous rolls for the morrow’s breakfast. She spied her father at the long wooden table, reading near the woodstove with her youngest brother cradled on his lap.
This was one of her favorite sights—Da in the kitchen filled with memories of family around the table, laughing and talking together. The setting sun cast an orange glow through lace curtains hanging in the open window, dappling the far wall with patterns of light.
“Da, have you seen Mother?”
“No,” he glanced up and his face lit with a warm smile. “I’m sure she’s somewhere. Wollemi, I’m sorry to make you the messenger boy, but would you mind getting Oleaster? He’s back in his garden.”
“I’ll get him,” Wollemi said with a smile before dashing back out the door.
“Mayten, will you change this one, please? It’s almost time for thanks-giving.” Da held her littlest brother up for her to take.
Mayten grabbed the chubby little boy who was heavy with sleep and definitely needed changing. She carried him down the hall to the room they used as a nursery.
After the fever winter, the clan leaders had made a new ruling, something that rarely happened. They dictated that families should not name their babies until they were two years old. As a result, Mayten had two unnamed siblings. Privately, she thought of the boy in her arms as Aster and the youngest baby girl as Maple, two of her favorite trees.
She kissed the top of the babe’s head and quickly changed his soaked diaper. When little Aster was clean and dry, she dressed him in a tiny tunic and trousers and set off in search of her mother.
Her frustration grew the longer she searched. No sign of Mother in the living area or her parents’ bedroom or any of the other rooms that branched off the long hall.
Finally, Mayten went into the room she shared with her sister. Taiwania was sitting on her bed, studying a parchment.
“I’m in here,” Taiwania groaned, her eyes rolling with disgust. The scent of lavender oil stung Mayten’s eyes. Had Taiwania bathed in the stuff?
She studied her sister’s waist-length hair. Taiwania’s hair flowed in waves while Mayten’s hair kinked and curled in uncontrollable brown spirals. Where Mayten’s body was sharp and angular, Taiwania had a soft, curvy body and large green eyes fringed with black lashes. Her skin was a beautiful red brown that reminded Mayten of cherry wood.
Mayten had once overheard a neighbor say to her mother, “Mayten is beautiful but doesn’t know it. Taiwania is beautiful and she’ll tell you about it!”
Mayten knew she wasn’t beautiful, the neighbor had just said that to be kind, but Taiwania was beautiful and wouldn’t hesitate to tell you about it.
And she’d become even harder to live with since her Leveling Ceremony last spring.
Usually Leveling Ceremonies proceeded in the same manner each year. The clan elders sequestered themselves for a few days to determine the calling of each apprentice. The callings were in line with the callings of the parents.
But once in a great while, the calling came as a surprise . . .
As had happened with Taiwania. Her sister had been called, not to sing to living things, but to sing the stories of the clan, an essential role in the life of the community.
That day the entire clan had cheered. That day Mayten had seen the pride in her parents’ shining eyes, had herself felt a mixture of pride and envy at the way people looked at her sister, especially the boys.
Overnight, Taiwania had become something other than the bossy older sister that Mayten knew, someone treated with honor by the entire clan.
The attention had made Taiwania even bossier and more impossible than she’d been before.
“I need to practice for the ceremony tomorrow, so please leave.” Taiwania flicked her hand as if shooing a mosquito away.
“It’s my room, too.” Mayten flopped on top of her bed’s feathered comforter and tickled Aster’s cheek, trying to get him to smile. She was frustrated at not finding her mother and the butterflies in her stomach made her feel sick. “Since you’ll be singing to the clan tomorrow, you may as well get used to singing in front of people.”
She was not afraid to receive her calling, but she hated being the focus of attention and having to stand before the whole clan. Taiwania, however, loved being the center of attention—
“Mother!” Taiwania bellowed, her face darkened with rage. “Will you make Mayten leave the room so I can practice?”
Moments later, their mother stepped into the room, their baby sister strapped to her chest with an intricately tied piece of cloth. “What’s the problem here?”
Her mother looked tired. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. Maybe she wasn’t avoiding Mayten. Maybe she was sick and trying to hide it.
Taiwania crossed her arms, her mouth puckered like she’d been sucking on an unripe persimmon. “I need to practice my song for tomorrow, and Mayten won’t leave.”
“But she’ll be singing in front of people tomorrow,” Mayten protested. “Why not practice in front of someone tonight?”
Her mother blew brown corkscrews of hair off her forehead. “Mayten, give your sister some time to practice tonight. Just until bells. Now come. It’s time for thanks-giving.”
Mayten balanced Aster on her hip as they followed their mother out the door. “Mother, I need to talk to you—”
Her mother put a hand on the small of Mayten’s back, pushing her gently up the hallway.
“Not now,” she said, her voice sharp.
Mother never spoke sharply. Not to Mayten. Her throat tightened.
Taiwania put her nose in the air as she pranced by, pushing through the front door first.
Mayten stopped on the threshold, swallowing a desire to slap the smug look off Taiwania’s face. She shifted her attention to their mother instead, watching as her mother slipped off her sandals before following Taiwania outside.
Mayten took after her mother, tall and stick thin, with a plain face and skin the washed-out color of walnuts. She’d often wished she had her mother’s confidence as well. Instead, she had her da’s shy nature and enjoyed being by herself among the trees.
“Mayten,” her mother called. “Stop daydreaming and get out here.”
Mayten quickly slid off her sandals and hurried out onto the porch, down the wooden steps, and into the front yard where she took her place in the family circle. The cool earth beneath her toes sent a shiver up her spine. She inhaled deeply, tasting eucalyptus spice on her tongue.
