Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles) Read Online Free

snatching up the wooden pipe. “I’ll have that.”
    Fergus slumped on the bench and scowled as he flicked the reins to get the goats moving again. The wagon shook as it took off and the trader moved back to stow the pipe in a large chest.
    Fergus felt his lip trembling and sniffed as they made their way down the bumpy path. Why was he so mean all the time? He threw occasional angry looks back at the Mr. Wesp as they travelled. Eventually, mouth tightening more and more in irritation, the trader cursed and then darted forwards to grab hold of Fergus’ shoulder, yanking him around.
    “Now listen here, you.”
    Fergus tried to twist his head so he wasn’t directly in front of the trader’s foul breath, but he moved up close so that their faces were almost touching. “I’m getting a little bit sick of your atti…”
    A faint knocking noise echoed again through the trees and the trader’s eyes suddenly seemed to sharpen. He snatched the reins out of Fergus’ hands and pulled on them to bring the wagon to a halt.
    “Right. You listen to me, boy. This is my last chance to get some vinehoney and I will not have you interfering with so much at stake. I think it would be best if you didn’t say a single thing, you hear?”
    Fergus tried to move away. “Y-yes, Mr. Wesp.”
    “No talking to anyone, no playing with their filthy children. And most of all, don’t mention a single thing about the vinehoney, understand?”
    “Yes, Mr. Wesp.”
    “Are you sure I can trust you to do that? This could be the trip that gives me my well-earned retirement and I won’t have my contract ruined by you. You remember that little hole in the ground?” Fergus nodded. “Someone could have a serious accident there. So easy to fall in. Wouldn’t your poor aunt be sad...”
    The trader stepped down into the back of the wagon and Fergus flicked the reins with shaking hands, biting down on his bottom lip.
     
    .  .  .  .  .  .  .
     
    Raf moved back from the thick leaves in front of him, considering what he had just witnessed. While they did get visitors in these southern parts of the Forest, it was still quite startling to see foreigners come casually travelling down into Eirdale. Especially a bizarre little pair like those two. And what was all that about a hole?
    He crawled back into the trunk and sat thinking for a bit. If the old man really was a trader, and that’s certainly what he must’ve been with that laden wagon, then this could be a lucky break for the villagers. Odd that this trader also seemed so anxious to get vinehoney. The last trader who had passed through Eirdale a few weeks’ back had only stopped here long enough to buy some vinehoney and a few supplies for his trip back before rushing off.
    He got to his feet to leave but, for the hundredth time, the memory of what had happened with the pipe flickered into his thoughts. He moved next to the opening in the wall and squinted down at the path in frustration. After two days of scouring the bushes below the window it had flown out of, he’d never found the strange pipe. He was almost tempted to believe the whole thing had been a strange dream.
    At the sounds of the wagon creaking away towards the village, he quickly tucked his knife in his belt and climbed down through the hollow trunk of the snag using the knotted bark for footholds.
    The Eirdale commons was a large open area between some Ancients that served as the main location for most village meetings and events. By the time he reached it, there was already a crowd by the wagon, burbling enthusiastically as the trader stood surveying the reception grandly in an elegant cloak. Raf looked across from the back of the crowd to the group of children who were being conducted by Madame Ottery as they sang through the gretanayre .
    The duty often fell to the youngest school kids when visitors arrived, and Raf was quite relieved he didn’t have to sing anymore, being in his last year of school. A gaggle of kids