The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (21 page)

“Thanks,” said Tarkyn quietly, as he blew on his tea to cool it. “I thought we had better not drink too much until we know whether we’re leaving tonight or tomorrow.” He frowned, “I already have some doubts about your ability to travel.”

“Fear not,” replied Danton, waving his cup around. “I’m as fit as a fiddle.”

“I wasn’t concerned about your fitness. It’s your ability to move quietly that concerns me,” said Tarkyn, suppressing a smile.

“Oh ye of little faith. I’m an elite guard, remember. I do stealth well. I even made it past the woodfolk’s lookouts when I first arrived.”

Tarkyn smiled, “You did too. But not after you’d been drinking, I suspect.”

At this point, their attention was drawn to Thunder Storm who said, “We’re are about to mindtalk to the mountainfolk and tell them that it is probable but not certain that they have come under the oath. Are you happy with that? Depending on their reaction, we’ll decide when to leave. Agreed?”

Tarkyn nodded and they went back out of focus. Over the next few minutes, Danton and Tarkyn watched as various woodfolk winced at the reactions they were receiving. Then their faces suffused with anger followed by set mouths and frowns of determination. Danton and Tarkyn exchanged glances but didn’t say anything to distract the woodfolk. Time rolled on quietly. A few frowns of uncertainty flitted across some of the faces and when eventually the woodfolk refocused, they looked shaken and worried.

“We will travel on tonight,” announced Ancient Oak flatly.

“If their reaction was so unpleasant, as it appears to have been from watching your faces, may I ask why?”

“Because, Tarkyn, the mountainfolk tell us that the weather is closing in over the mountains unusually early. We are running out of time if we want to reach Falling Rain this year.” Ancient Oak shrugged, “It will take us a good twenty-four hours to reach them anyway, by the time we cross the grasslands, rest and then cover the last part of the journey through the forest. That will give them long enough.” He glanced at Waterstone before adding, “I think we may find our encounter with them difficult.”

“Which is no surprise to anyone,” responded Tarkyn dryly. “Very well. Let’s press on then.”

Once the decision was made, the woodfolk acted quickly. Tarkyn and Danton barely had time to finish their tea before the woodfolk were packed up and ready to go, all signs of their presence, even the firesite, obliterated from the clearing.

Ahead of them lay the grasslands and the uncertain reception of the mountainfolk.

Part 4: The Grasslands

Chapter
16

D
arkness had closed in and the moon had not yet risen as Tarkyn and Danton moved gingerly through the woods, each close behind a woodman who seemed to have a much better facility for night
vision than they did. As they broke out of the forest into the grasslands, a glow on the eastern horizon heralded the impending rising of the moon.

“This is not ideal,” whispered Waterstone, coming up beside the prince. “We really don’t want to be silhouetted against the sky by a full moon.” He looked up. “Blast it! Stars everywhere,” he said, without the slightest thought for the beauty of the firmament above them. “Not a cloud in sight.”

“At least we won’t get wet.”

Waterstone gave a grunt of laughter. “Such an optimist. We will, sooner or later.”

“Such a pessimist,” retorted Tarkyn.

“We’re going to have to skirt around the ridges and keep within the valleys. Unfortunately, that takes us closer to the farmhouses. Their dogs are likely to set up a din and bring their owners out looking for trouble.”

“I can quieten them,” offered Tarkyn.

“Part of that obligation you were talking about?”

“If you like… ” after a pause, he added, “or just part of being a member of the group but with a particular skill. Depends how you want to view it.”

“Hm. The latter appeals more, I must say.”

“I think so,” said Tarkyn, and Waterstone could hear the smile in  his voice.

A couple of minutes later, Tarkyn’s voice issued from the darkness, “Waterstone, could you stop and let me place my hand on your shoulder. I need to stand firm while I concentrate.”

When he was ready, Tarkyn sent his mind out across the grasslands to the nearest farmstead and nudged against the sheepdog’s mind. The dog gave a low growl of uncertainty but then acknowledged the forest guardian’s presence with a few sweeps of his tail. Tarkyn sent images of himself and woodfolk, accompanied by waves of friendship and reassurance. Just as the dog hunkered down, ready to jump up and bark an enthusiastic greeting, Tarkyn imagined the dog sitting quietly and wagging his tail. The sheepdog gave a quiet whine of excitement, but managed to contain himself. Then Tarkyn sent him an image of the other houses and other dogs sitting quietly as the woodfolk moved past. With a nuance of thanks, Tarkyn withdrew from the dog’s mind and returned to the awareness of his hand on Waterstone’s shoulder and himself standing under a starlit sky in the darkness of the grasslands.

“Done,” he said quietly. He gave Waterstone a clap on the shoulder to thank him before letting his hand drop.

“Just a minute,” said Waterstone, “I’ll let the others know.” After a brief pause, they continued on their way.

They skirted quietly over the lower part of two ridges and around the heads of the valleys in between. Lower down in each valley lay a large stone-built farmhouse surrounded by sheds, barns and outhouses. All was quiet and no light shone from any window.

“They always build their houses low in the valley,” whispered Waterstone, “The winds howl across these grasslands and they need all the protection they can get.”

“Why are there no trees here?” asked Tarkyn quietly.

“There were, once.” Waterstone stopped to scan the surroundings before beginning the climb up the next ridge. “Then a small group of sorcerers came to settle in this area. They cut down all the trees so they could plant crops and graze stock. But the winds have taken over, with no trees to stop them. Over the years, the topsoil has drifted away and their crops do not prosper. The grasslands still support their sheep and cattle so that is now their main livelihood. Down in the valley, where they are out of the wind, the land can grow enough for their own needs but not enough to market.”  

“It must have broken your hearts to watch the forest dying at  their hands.”

Waterstone threw him an amused glance that appeared as a flash of white in the moonlight. “It would have if I had seen it. But they came here well over a century ago. Having destroyed their patch, they now seem content to stay within this tract of grassland.”

“What would you do if they decided to expand their holdings?”

“They have tried in the past. Whenever they mount any attack on the trees, odd accidents begin to happen. Sometimes people are killed. Their tools break and twist, their cattle become unmanageable and rampage through their vegetable gardens. Weird sounds are heard at night.”

Tarkyn’s eyes grew round. “And the forest does all this?” he asked in wonder.

Waterstone made a strangled gurgle that turned out to be a repressed laugh. “No, Tarkyn. We do.”

“Oh.”

“We were caught unawares when they first arrived and they came in one large group that we couldn’t really oppose. But since then, they have only worked as individual farms and we are alert to the danger.” A flash of white teeth showed that Waterstone was grinning. “The legend of the curse of the forest has grown over the years. So we don’t have to do much these days to stop them.”

“Hmm.” Silence ensued for a long period after this as they cut across a valley close to a farmstead. Tarkyn sent out a reassurance to the resident dogs and received a welcoming greeting in return.

Once they were further from the buildings and less concentration was needed, Tarkyn had a chance to mull over Waterstone’s words. As he neared the top of the ridge leading into the next valley, he remembered Danton’s concern that his prince’s commitment to the woodfolk would affect his birth responsibility to his fellow sorcerers. Here was a case in point: he would have to choose his allegiance
.
I’m sorry Danton
,
he thought
.
I am the forest guardian. I would choose the forest and the woodfolk, at least in this cas
e
.

Danton, walking a few yards to his right, frowned and glanced over at Tarkyn as he picked up the feeling of apology without the cause. Tarkyn, intent on his own thoughts, didn’t notice.

Suddenly, Tarkyn was tripped up and slammed to the ground by a hard thump in the back. Nearby the dogs were barking. He lay on the ground, his cheek pushed into the rough grass, his heart beating hard. He could see nothing but blades of grass around him. A heavy weight pressed down on his back, keeping him pinned to the ground. Then an image of a woodman lying on top of him and holding him down firmly with his arm came into Tarkyn’s mind.

“Just me,” hissed Autumn Leaves in his ear. “There’s a group of horsemen riding hard towards that house we’ve just passed. We’re at the top of the ridge. They might be able to see us in the moonlight if they look this way.”

Tarkyn mumbled something into the grass but Autumn Leaves  missed it.

“What?”

Tarkyn spat out some dirt and a few blades of grass and said quietly but more distinctly, “Why did I have to score the heaviest woodman on my back?”

Autumn Leaves grinned in the gloom, “Just lucky, I guess. Anyway, another woodman mightn’t have had enough weight to push you down.”

“And were you thinking of getting off me at any stage?”

“Oops. Sorry.” Autumn Leaves rolled off the prince and lay beside him in the long grass. He was grinning hugely.

“Or you could have just told me to get down,” said Tarkyn dryly.

Autumn Leaves shook his head, still smiling. “Ooh, I don’t know. I seem to remember you giving us strict instructions not to order you about.”

“Very funny,” Tarkyn quipped back but then became thoughtful as he realised that Autumn Leaves was only half joking, and with good reason. The woodfolk might be prepared to risk his ire by ordering him around in a situation such as this but if his automatic outrage caused any hesitation while he quelled it, it could place them all in danger. He looked at Autumn Leaves lying up close to him in the long grass. “Hmm. I might need to do some work on my reactions, mightn’t I? And be prepared to hand over command, so to speak, in situations  like this.”

Autumn Leaves’ eyes twinkled in the dark as he shrugged, “Up to you. Depends how much you like being thumped to the ground and manhandled.”

Tarkyn grinned, “Except for the dirt and grass in my mouth, I’m all right with it. Makes a change from the monotony of walking.”

At this point, muffled sounds of a struggle came to them from nearby. An abrupt movement and a thud were followed by the sight of Danton’s back parallel to the top of the grass.

Tarkyn and Autumn Leaves looked at each other and crawled on their bellies over to Danton. They found him kneeling over Rainstorm, a knife to his throat.

“What are you doing, Danton?” hissed the prince angrily.

“This bloody idiot decides to attack me while we’re close to the farm house. I don’t know what his problem is. He caught me unawares to start with and had me pinned down, but I have sorted that out.”

Tarkyn realised that Danton hadn’t had the advantage of a transmitted image to reassure him. He looked at Rainstorm and saw that he was lying quite relaxed beneath the point of Danton’s blade, with a slight smile playing around his lips. He was obviously enjoying himself.

“I think you could have explained your actions, Rainstorm,” said Tarkyn. “It rather defeats the purpose of pushing Danton out of sight if he then rears up the next minute to fight you off.”

Rainstorm grinned, “I wanted to see some of this expert training we keep hearing about. He’s quite good, isn’t he?” The grin dropped from Rainstorm’s face and Tarkyn turned to see Autumn Leaves out of focus and looking very severe. “Sorry Autumn Leaves and everyone,” said Rainstorm contritely after what had clearly been a mental berating. He shrugged and glanced sheepishly at Tarkyn, “Wrong time and place.”

Tarkyn shook his head with a slight smile. “Rainstorm, Danton is right. You really are an idiot sometimes. Never mind. No harm done.”

As Danton gave a grunt of acceptance and withdrew his knife, Autumn Leaves froze and his eyes went out of focus. Tarkyn knew better than to interrupt. A minute later Autumn Leaves reported quietly, “The horsemen have reached the house. Some of them were riding doubled up. Lapping Water thinks that there are at least two riders with injuries of some sort. They are being lifted down and carried into the house.”

“Can we creep up closer and see what’s going on?” asked Danton. It was unclear whether he was asking the woodfolk or Tarkyn for permission.

Tarkyn looked at Autumn Leaves and said, “I, too, would like to know what’s happening but I will bow to your decision.”

After a couple of minutes out of focus, Autumn Leaves replied, “Danton can go down, if he wishes. He at least will be able to explain his presence.” He glanced at the blonde sorcerer, “I understand you are less dogmatic than your liege here about being creative with the truth. So are you prepared to say that you are on your way to the mountains to do some trapping, if you are caught?”

Danton nodded, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. “Back soon,” he said quietly as he slipped away into the gloom.

“So now we wait,” said Tarkyn, as he sat up and brushed down the front of his shirt.

“I’ve asked Lapping Water to intercept him when he’s nearer the house so that she can be his link back to us,” said Autumn Leaves.

“What about me?” asked Rainstorm plaintively, “I could have gone up closer with him to be the link.”

Tarkyn and Autumn Leaves both turned their heads and looked at him with raised eyebrows. After a speaking silence, Autumn Leaves said mildly, “Lapping Water is already down there.”

Rainstorm subsided in a huff.

Lower down the valley, Lapping Water reared up out of the grass just as Danton neared her, and startled him. He let out a hiss of breath, “Phew. You take your life in your hands if you do that to me.”

Lapping Water gave a low laugh. “I trust your reflexes. You wouldn’t kill anyone until you knew who they were.”

Danton nodded, “True. So what are you doing now? Are you coming down to the house with me?”

“No, but I will come down as far as that tree and wait for you there. Then if you need to talk to the others, I will relay your messages to them.”

Lapping Water saw the gleam of his smile in the gloom.

“Thanks,” he said briefly.

They moved doubled up and silent towards the house. As they neared the tree, a slight sound to Danton’s right alerted him to Lapping Water’s disappearance. Not a leaf rustled out of place to betray her arrival in the tree. Danton stopped to survey the approaches to the house. A long rectangle of light shone over the trampled earth outside the open back door. Through a window to the right of the door, he could see someone moving around what seemed to be the kitchen, filling a kettle and placing it on the hob. No one else was visible from his present vantage point. As he moved closer, he spotted the black and white long-coated farm dogs chained near a barn on the right. They were sitting quietly but wagging their tails furiously in welcome, brushing shaggy semicircles in the dirt behind them. Danton deviated from his course to visit them and spent some time stroking them in thanks for their discretion. After a final pat, he moved on.

He crept through the shadow of the barn around to the side of the house. Towards the front, light was shining from a window. He approached quietly, hugging the side wall, and lifted his head slowly to peer over the lintel into the lounge room.