The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (24 page)

Tarkyn took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “You will need to hold his leg in place until someone splints it.” He shook his head, “I’m sorry. I tried but I have only just begun the repair work. He will have to put up with a splint and crutches for a few weeks.” Tarkyn smiled at his father, “But then he should be back to normal.”

“My lord, I cannot thank you enough.”

Tarkyn put up his hand, “I think you should thank Danton for his part in this. It was he who saw your need and strove to get help for you. It is not easy to disentangle me from the other demands on my time.  And his shield saved your lives. If he had not prevented you from harming me, you would surely have died.”

Lord Tolward hung his head, “I am truly sorry, my lord, that I doubted you, especially when I had given my guarantee to Danton that you would not be harmed.”

Tarkyn looked away from him towards the window where his woodfolk friends waited for him. “I understand that it is hard to see your daughter in pain at the hands of someone with such a besmirched reputation. I wish I were not seen everywhere in such a terrible light, but” he shrugged, “unfortunately there is not much I can do about it. I cannot return to court to defend myself. So it is as it is.”

The lord of the manor glanced at him, “Your Highness, will you tell me what really happened. Then I will undertake to support you and tell people the truth. It is the least I can do after what you have done for me.”

Tarkyn’s face relaxed into a smile. “Thank you. That would be most kind of you. I accept your offer, provided you do not put yourself at risk on my behalf. All these people depend on you.” Tarkyn told him the truth as he remembered it.

When he had finished, Tolward shook his head. “You have really been stitched up, haven’t you my lord?”

Tarkyn gave a short laugh. “I suppose I have but I am not entirely blameless in all this, you know.”

Lord Tolward nodded and said gravely, “In civil war, no one is blameless.”

“It is not civil war.” Tarkyn frowned quizzically, “It is merely two older brothers getting rid of an irritating younger brother.”

The older man looked at him. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“I know my brothers fight cat and dog all the time and both want to be king, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

“No. Everyone knows that.” said Tolward impatiently. “And everyone is sick of it. There was a huge groundswell of support for you to usurp the throne. We were organised and ready to approach you with the idea but then came the Tournament and your exile, and everything we had planned fell apart.” He paused and regarded the prince silently for a moment. “But having met you, I now know it would have fallen apart anyway. You would never have betrayed your brothers, would you?”

“No, not then,” said Tarkyn quietly. “But then they hadn’t betrayed me. I do not acknowledge fealty to anyone any more. However, I have never had aspirations to be king and still haven’t. Only dire circumstances would compel me to consider it.” He nodded at his friend waiting patiently beside the lord’s daughter and smiled wryly, “Lord Danton also has high expectations of me. He thinks I’m the hope for Eskazor’s future.”

“And so you are, my lord. Now that I know that you have not turned rogue and have gauged your calibre, I would agree with him. Your brothers are wreaking havoc. My son and daughter were out herding cattle when a band of cattle thieves shot at them and drove Winguard’s horse into a frenzied bolt. Eskazor is rife with tragedies like this. You saved my son and daughter today from the neglect of your brothers. No one is looking after the populace anymore.”

Tarkyn gazed at him, “You have given me food for thought.” He paused, “Do you happen to know someone called Davorad, Lord of Stansbeck?”

Lord Tolward snorted with derision, “You mean Jarand’s puppet?”

“Oh no! Is he? Are you aware of the gathering of vigilantes in the encampment north of here?”

“Of course. It is not far from here. Only a day’s ride. There are strange doings in that encampment. I believe they were even using wolves at one stage, heavens know why. Now the wolves are gone and it is rumoured that they intend to replace them with bloodhounds.”

Tarkyn went still, “Bloodhounds, you say? Why would they do that?”

Lord Tolward shrugged, “They are hunting someone. It might be brigands. It might even be you.”

Tarkyn persisted, “And were you aware that it is financed by Davorad?”

The lord looked disgusted. “No, I was not. In that case, we can safely assume that the whole thing is a ploy to show up Kosar’s incompetence in maintaining law and order. It may even be a gathering of forces to mount a coup. Constantly there is talk of some secret army they are planning to enlist to their cause.” He continued bitterly, “What it is not, is a genuine effort to support the people of Eskusor. We are left to protect ourselves against a mounting wave of outlaws.”

“I only hope my brothers realise what is happening before it is too late. Lord Tolward, what you have told me concerns me greatly. I promise you I will think on it. But for now, I must go. I must reach the safety of the mountain foothills before dawn. Please do not attempt to follow me.”

“But Sire, how may we contact you? I don’t want to lose you when I have only just found you.”

Tarkyn thought hard. At last he said, “Do you have parchment and a pen I can take with me? There is a tree halfway up the ridge behind your barn. I will leave instructions on how to contact me in that tree. I am travelling south beyond the mountains over the next few months but I will be back. Look for me in the spring.”

As Tarkyn stood to go, Winguard stirred and opened his eyes. “Goodbye, Your Highness. And may your friends continue to protect you as well as they have so far.”

“What are you talking about, Winguard?” asked his father, crossing to kneel beside his son. “His Highness is only with Lord Danton.”

Tarkyn frowned fiercely. “Did you open your eyes?”

Winguard shook his head. “No my lord. But when you flow through me, I learn things about you. And I know the people you travel with, whoever they are, are your staunch allies. You are lucky to have such friends.”

Tarkyn smiled, “Yes Winguard, I am. And now I must go. Look after yourselves. Make sure that poultice is put on your shoulder, Edelweiss. And you will have to endure crutches for a while Winguard, but at least you will have a perfectly good leg at the end of it. Come on, Danton. We have a long way to travel before morning.”

“Just a moment,” said Lady Juniper, returning from the kitchen with a large bulging bag. “We have put together as much food as we could gather for your journey.” She smiled in turn at Danton and Tarkyn, “I would thank you for the lives of my children.”

As they headed towards the front door, all the farmhands were lined up to bid them farewell and to thank them both. Lord Tolward saw them off at the door, “Thank you Danton for your care and your courage. And thank you my lord, words cannot express our debt to you.”

“Goodbye.  It was a pleasure to meet you all. Now go back to your children. They need you tonight.”

Minutes later, the four of them collected Lapping Water and Summer Rain from the tree and headed back up the ridge.

Chapter
18

It was an hour before dawn when they reached the forest on the other side of the grasslands. Already the sky had lightened and the first birds were beginning the dawn chorus. The clear sky had let out all the heat of the earth and the early morning air was frosty. People’s speech came out in clouds of mist. Everyone was cold and tired and the children were whining with fatigue and hunger.

“This is where life in the forest is undesirable,” murmured Danton to Tarkyn.

Tarkyn nodded tiredly, “Still, I wouldn’t complain too much, if I were you. We’d have been here nearly two hours ago if we hadn’t deviated to Tolward’s house. And we could have rested more along the way.”

Waterstone strode over, still full of energy. “Come on, you two. Not much further now. There are ready-built shelters just a little further into the woods. We can all collapse there and have a good sleep before the last leg of the journey to the mountainfolk.” He peered closely at Tarkyn, “Is it just the dawn light or are you looking pallid? No, I think maybe you’ve used up too much of your reserves. You might consider sleeping next to a tree or maybe sitting next to one while you have breakfast later. Hmm. I wonder if any of these shelters is big enough for you?” Waterstone went out of focus for a moment. “Some of the others will go ahead to check and build a quick extension if necessary. I think you need rest as soon as possible.” The woodman looked across at Danton, “He’s a great one for overcooking it, isn’t he?”

Tarkyn rolled his eyes at being talked about, then said wryly, “Sometimes trying to respond to the expectations of two societies has its drawbacks.”

“Your choice,” chorused Waterstone and Danton simultaneously, each sniping at the need for the other’s society to be considered.

Tarkyn raised his eyebrows, “I’ll leave you two to fight that one out between yourselves. Let me know when you’ve reached a resolution.” So saying, he surged on ahead, leaving the woodman and the sorcerer a little non-plussed in his wake.

“Hmm, something went a little awry there,” mused Waterstone. “Are we putting too much pressure on him, do you think?”

Danton shook his head, “You haven’t demanded anything of him that he hasn’t demanded of himself. No. I think it was just the difficulty of responding to those injured kids while we were on such a tight timeline. No one was forcing him. It was just an unfortunate circumstance that we couldn’t be caught in the grasslands. They walked on in silence for a few minutes before Danton said, “But I was listening to the conversation Tarkyn had with Lord Tolward , and I think the demands on Tarkyn are mounting from the sorcerers’ side.”

“What do you mean?”

“It began with what I said about him being the hope of Eskuzor. Then Stormaway reiterated it and last night, Tolward told him that they had planned a coup against Kosar and Jarand and had wanted Tarkyn to support them.”

Waterstone frowned, “When was this?”

“Just before Tarkyn was arrested.” Danton smiled slightly, “He wouldn’t have done it, of course. But he might now.” Seeing Waterstone’s look of consternation, Danton modified his statement. “Not right now. But maybe sometime in the future, if things don’t improve. Tarkyn told the lord to look for him in the spring, after we come back from our journey. He gave no undertakings, though.”

Waterstone cleared his throat, a sure sign that he was worried, “Tarkyn was right. We will have to reach a resolution, if this is true. How can he be all things to all men? He can’t. Our societies are mutually exclusive.” He glanced at Danton. “We don’t want to lose him, you know. Not now. He is our forest guardian…and he’s Tarkyn.”

Danton shook his head, “Even though I would like to see him in his brothers’ place for the sake of the sorcerers, for Tarkyn’s sake I would not.” He looked at the woodman. “I have known Tarkyn all his life. He has never been happier than he is now among you people. I would not like that to be taken away from him.”

“Is that so? I’m pleased to hear that and pleased that you are prepared to weigh up his welfare against the needs of your sorcerers.” Waterstone sent Danton a fleeting smile, “You know, I’m beginning to think that you and I really can work together for all of our causes. In fact, we will have to. Hmm. No wonder Tarkyn is touchy about it. We have some serious thinking to do over the next few months, haven’t we?”

Part 5: The Mountainfolk

Chapter
19

Several hours sleep, a good breakfast and an hour with his hand against an old mountain ash went a long way towards restoring Tarkyn’s spirits. However, a certain aloofness remained in his dealings with Waterstone and Danton. Although they noticed it, they decided to give him some time and space before addressing it. As they approached the mountainfolk’s firesite late in the afternoon, Tarkyn kept company with Rainstorm and North Wind, laughing and joking with the younger woodmen in an effort to forget the pressures of his many roles and the difficult impending meeting.

As it turned out, the mountainfolk were quite friendly when Tarkyn and his home guard arrived. A welcoming feast of spit roasted venison and baked vegetables was cooking slowly over the fire, all ready to be accompanied by the best possible selection of woodfolk wines. The mountainfolk greeted their fellow woodfolk effusively and, although a little more reticent with the sorcerers, were courteous and friendly enough.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” said a white haired old man, bowing slightly. “My name is Dripping Rock. We have heard a lot about you and it is of great interest to us to finally meet you.”

Tarkyn contained his surprise that the old man had bowed and used his title but following his lead, inclined his head in return, saying, “Good evening. As you may know, my name is Tarkyn Tamadil and this is my friend, Danton Patronell. It is a pleasure to meet the makers of the fine wines I have been drinking. From personal experience, I can tell you that they are among the best in the land.”

“Thank you, my lord. I’m pleased they meet with your approval. I believe you have met my wife,” he said, indicating a scrawny old woman who appeared from nowhere to join him.

Tarkyn’s face lit up. “Dry Berry! I didn’t realise you belonged to the mountainfolk. This is indeed a surprise. How is your wrist?”

“My wrist is well, thank you, young man. I hear you have been busy since we last met and I am pleased to see Golden Toad and his family once more among us. I understand you had some difficulties in restoring their mindtalking ability. By all accounts both you and the forest suffered. A little careless, don’t you think, young man?”

“A lack of experience, ma’am. I will try not to let it happen again,” replied Tarkyn with a smile in his voice. “To be honest, it was not an experience I would choose to repeat.”

“So I understand. Would you like some wine?” She poured them each a glass of deep gold wine from a beautiful blue glazed earthenware jug. Tarkyn noticed that Danton and the woodfolk from his party were being served wine from more mundane earthenware flagons. He frowned in passing at the unusual preferential treatment but then dismissed it from his mind.

Dry Berry smiled at him. “I am glad you saved Autumn Leaves, even if it did put you at odds with your overzealous minders.” She patted him on the arm, “You’re a good boy, Tarkyn. You take your role very seriously, don’t you?”

“I do, but in that case it was not my role but my friendship that made me rush to Autumn Leaves’ aid.”

“And I believe you laid down the law, as you see it, to those who protested at you putting yourself at risk,” she added in a deceptively friendly tone of voice.

Tarkyn stilled. Although it was not being spoken of openly, he knew they were discussing the implications of the oath. “I wished to curtail their enthusiasm for molly-coddling me,” he said carefully. “We must all take risks in life. Otherwise we do not live…” He paused, trying to find a way to say what he wanted to without mentioning the oath, “... And without risk, we cannot give to others the full measure of ourselves.”

Dry Berry gazed at him through narrowed eyes. “And did you really say to them that you could order them around or not as you choose, but that none of them had the right to tell you what to do?”

Tarkyn, never a great one for subterfuge, gave up on subtlety. “That is the reality of the oath…Besides, other than with my sorcerer brothers, that has always been the underlying premise of my dealings with people… It is just that I do not usually state it so baldly.”

“You wouldn’t need to, would you, if it is understood,” the old woodwoman said dryly. She took a sip of wine but her eyes never left Tarkyn’s face. Just as he was tensing himself for the next onslaught, she smiled disarmingly and said, “But I have also heard that despite what you could demand, you usually negotiate.”

Some of the tension left Tarkyn’s shoulders. “I try, Dry Berry. I do try. It does not come easily to me and I forget to consult sometimes, but I do try.” He glanced away from her intense gaze, hoping to catch the eye of one of his woodfolk to back him up.

He frowned as he spotted first one and then another of his woodfolk sprawled out on the ground near the fire. Alarmed, he swept his gaze around the firesite as he realised that all of his homeguard were lying asleep, interspersed between mountainfolk who were alert and watching his every move. There was no sign of Sparrow and the other children. Tarkyn’s eyebrows snapped together in consternation as he turned to Dry Berry, “What have you done? Where are the children?”

“We have administered a mild sedative in your woodfolk’s wine. The children are playing with our children in a shelter not far from here. There are some things they may not wish to see.”

Tarkyn’s stomach turned over, but he maintained a front of calm which, under the circumstances, was probably not the most sensible ploy. “Such as?”

Even as he spoke, his arms were dragged roughly behind him by two strong mountainmen and bound. Tarkyn glared at Dry Berry, “If you hurt a hair on their heads, you will rue the day you were born.”

“I doubt it,” she replied calmly. “You have sworn an oath to protect all woodfolk. That includes us. And from what I’ve seen of you, you don’t break oaths.”

Tarkyn shook his head, perplexed, “If you think that of me, why are you doing this?”

A hard fist came out of nowhere and caught him on his right cheek. Tarkyn gasped and staggered as the force of the blow knocked him sideways. Blood spurted from a cut beneath his eye.

Dry Berry frowned, “Carefully. Not so hard! Now, just once more, I think, just to make sure.”

Another fist slammed into his stomach, making him double over in pain, retching and gasping for breath. Tarkyn’s mind screamed outrage, and a cry for help reverberated silently across the treetops, over the cliff faces and up into the crags of the lowering mountains.

“Right, that’s enough,” said Dry Berry sharply.

But the two woodmen ignored her. Before Tarkyn could recover, an uppercut to his jaw jerked him upright again, followed by another fist slamming into his face from the other side. A haze of blood dripped from a cut on his eyebrow, obscuring his vision on one side.

In the background, he could hear the assembled mountainfolk jeering and heckling. Only Dry Berry’s voice demanded that they stop, but heedless, another fist slammed into his side. Rough hands held him up to prevent him from collapsing to the ground as the two thugs alternated between holding him up and hitting him. The pummelling continued, with Dry Berry’s voice becoming shriller but still ineffective in the background. Her pleas to get Dripping Rock or anyone else to intervene fell on deaf ears.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, an enormous mountain eagle swooped down on one assailant, raking his back with her talons. Shrieking with anger, she held on and belted him around his head with her wings. As the mountainman cowered with his hands over his head, she launched herself off his back. He screamed in pain as her talons dug in.  She flew straight at the other assailant who released his hold on Tarkyn and tried to duck ou
t of her way. Tarkyn, unsupported, collapsed to kneel doubled up. The eagle dug her wicked hooked beak straight into the top of his assailant’s head and flapped her black and gold wings around him. She landed on him, her talons digging deep holes into his shoulders, her great weight throwing him over backwards. Then she launched herself off him as he fell, and after flying in a tight circle, came back to land in front of Tarkyn. His two assailants scrambled out of range and stood shocked and battered off to one side. She stalked back and forth in front of the Forest Guardian, shrieking and flapping her wings to keep everyone at bay.

The watching mountainfolk were so stunned that no one made any move to attack either Tarkyn or the eagle. Before they could recover, a dozen more huge birds of prey flew in to join their comrade and landed in the surrounding trees, fixing their fearsome gazes on the mountainfolk below. Utter silence descended. Every now and then, one of the huge birds swooped across the clearing to make sure none of the mountainfolk approached Tarkyn. An attempt by Dry Berry to walk around him to untie his bonds was swiftly discouraged by both the eagle on the ground and another that swooped low over her, shrieking, and catching the end of her hair in its talon, dragging a chunk of it out by its roots.

With an enormous effort Tarkyn, in his own private world of pain, dragged himself up from his knees to stand upright before them. He backed up to lean against a gnarled oak, gasping for breath, unable to hold himself up unaided. All the time, as the mountain eagle patrolled up and down in front of him, the prince fought against the pain and reaction from the beating, holding himself rigidly upright against the oak and drawing a trickle of strength from it as he stood there.

After what felt like an eternity to Tarkyn but was actually only a few minutes, the effects of the drugged wine began to wear off and his home guard slowly opened their eyes to a very strange sight.

As they looked around them, they tuned into the shocked disbelief on the faces of the mountainfolk. Then their eyes were inevitable drawn to their forest guardian; hair matted and hanging half over his face, clothes torn, and face bruised and bloodied, standing with his back against the twisted oak. Stalking back and forth in front of him was a feisty mountain eagle standing almost as tall as Tarkyn’s thigh, ruffling its feathers, occasionally flapping its wings and sweeping its golden glare across the surrounding woodfolk. In very short order, the home guard galvanized from drowsiness to outrage.

Waterstone and Rainstorm jumped up, staggering from the after-effects of the drug but propelled by a surge of adrenalin.

“Tarkyn, what have they done to you?” demanded Rainstorm, as he rushed forward.

Waterstone ran unhesitatingly around behind Tarkyn, ignoring the eagle who merely ruffled her feathers, jumped a little to one side and kept her sharp golden eyes trained on him. Waterstone tried to untie Tarkyn’s hands, but Tarkyn had strained against the knots so much that the ropes had cut into his wrists and the knots were stuck fast. The woodman drew his knife and sliced through the rope.

“Thanks,” croaked Tarkyn and cleared his throat.

Unable to focus clearly enough to heal himself, Tarkyn rubbed his wrists where the ropes had cut in. When his circulation was sufficiently restored, he pushed his matted hair back and wiped the blood out of his eyes with the heels of his hands. Only then was the full extent of the battering to his face revealed. There was a sharp intake of breath from his home guard and a groundswell of angry muttering spread among them.

Tarkyn drew a deep, shuddering breath and, with a visible effort, pulled himself together enough to speak. He raised his hand and the woodfolk fell silent as he addressed Dry Berry.

“So this is the honourable way mountainfolk treat their guests, is it?” asked Tarkyn scathingly, his voice starting as little more than a rasp. He glowered at Dry Berry, “You may not remember this, but I am your kin, just as they are.” He turned his smouldering gaze upon the stunned mountainfolk, “You would not have allowed any woodfolk to be hurt as you have just hurt me. And don’t give me any rubbish about testing out the oath. You could have done that without hurting me. Waterstone damaged the forest just by threatening me. Those two hit me brutally right from the start and none of you came forward to intervene. In fact, you cheered them on. Only Dry Berry tried to stop them.” The woodfolk of Tarkyn’s home guard glared at their kin in disgust. Tarkyn took another shaky breath, “I had thought woodfolk were above enjoying the spectacle of a public beating, but apparently not.”

Feeling Tarkyn’s anger, several of the birds of prey in the surrounding trees took off and swept low over the gathered woodfolk, coming to land protectively around him. A black hawk landed on his left shoulder and glowered down on Waterstone, causing Tarkyn to stagger under the unexpected weight. On the other side of Tarkyn, Rainstorm stood firm as fearsome birds of prey strutted around him. A large black kite, a whistling eagle and a tawny owl landed in the oak above Tarkyn’s head, ruffled their feathers and proceeded to glare out across the crowd.

Dry Berry had recovered enough from the shock to find her voice. “Tarkyn, I did not realise those men wouldn’t stop. I only wanted to check whether we were subject to your oath.”

“I know that,” said Tarkyn bleakly. “It is the only reason you will live.” He pushed his hair back again and looked in distaste at the blood on his fingers. “I also know that you condoned two men, whose calibre you must have known, to have free rein with me. You may have tried to stop them but you allowed them to start.” He took a laboured breath. “Raging Water told me that the forestals could not help their kindred to betray the oath because you are all one honourable people. Clearly there are nuances in woodfolk society that I have yet to learn.”

“We are not dishonourable,” protested Dry Berry hotly. “We have not sworn your oath, so we were not sworn to protect you. We did not allow your woodfolk to betray their oath. That’s why we drugged them. So they could not be held responsible. And we
,
I
did not intend to hurt you so grievously. We only wanted to find out where we stood.”