The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (37 page)

Thunder Storm’s quiet older son, Rain on Water, came to sit on his knee while they were talking.

Tarkyn’s anxiety levels rose even higher, “I wonder where Midnight is. I haven’t seen him since they all came back. I assumed he was off on his own, doing something, but it’s beginning to be a long time since I saw him.”

A silence filled with unspoken thoughts greeted this statement.

Tarkyn smiled wryly, “So you think I should take a bit of time out to go and find him? I thought we could figure out what we were going to do first and then find him.”

Thunder Storm smiled, “Kids don’t always work that way. They don’t conveniently run by your timetable. You don’t want to lose track of him if there is crisis looming.”

“Fine. I’ll go and look for him while you people think of ideas. I’ll be back soon.”

Tarkyn walked to the edge of the clearing and sent his mind out looking for Midnight. Eventually, he homed in on him, but the little boy’s mind was closed off and Tarkyn couldn’t find a way through the barrier. He could, however, follow its trace to the source. So he set off through the forest to find his little protégé.

Midnight was curled up inside the hollow of an old dead tree. He had withdrawn into himself and did not respond to Tarkyn’s mindmessages. A feeling of stoic resignation emanated from him. As Tarkyn touched his shoulder, Midnight jumped in fright, then raised a tear-stained face that lit up with cautious relief when he saw Tarkyn.

Tarkyn crouched down, scooped the little boy up into his arms and sent him a query. Midnight responded with an image of all the woodfolk gathered around, looking stern and worried while he had stood in their midst frightened that something was happening he didn’t understand. He had feared that everyone talking to Tarkyn would be followed by the prince sending Midnight away. Nevertheless, he had waited, still hoping that Tarkyn would come for him, and watching the other children going to their parents. From the little boy’s point of view there had been a wall of people he would have had to breach to reach the prince. Tarkyn could see all too well how impossible it would have been for Midnight to walk through all those uncertain people to reach him. He had fled the clearing long before everyone had sat down.

“Oh Midnight,” he murmured, “I’m so sorry. You are the last person in the world who needs a celebrity looking after you.” Tarkyn hugged him close and sent waves of contrition and warmth to the little boy. He replayed Midnight’s imagined vision of Tarkyn sending him away and then shook his head and put his hand on his heart.

As they walked back, Midnight’s hand held firmly in his, Tarkyn asked about the mock battle and gradually Midnight recovered enough to show him all the ploys they had used against each other. After a few queries from Tarkyn and a few added details from Midnight, they were back on an even keel again.

In response to a query from Midnight, Tarkyn produced an image of the bloodhounds following a trail through the woods. He used a complicated series of imagined and real images to show Midnight what they had been talking about when he left the clearing.

Midnight stopped responding after a while and when Tarkyn sent him a query, was waved impatiently aside. Tarkyn frowned, not at all pleased at being so casually dismissed. He was just about to berate Midnight when the little boy tugged at his sleeve and looked up at him. When he was sure he had Tarkyn’s attention, he reeled off three images in quick succession; water washing away the scent, wolves attacking the bloodhounds and finally Tarkyn scolding the bloodhounds and making them turn away. When he had finished, he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, requesting Tarkyn’s response.

Tarkyn blinked in astonishment. “Inventive little thing, aren’t you?” he said and nodded his approval.

Midnight smiled but when Tarkyn indicated that they should share the ideas with the others, the boy’s fragile confidence deserted him and his face tightened in trepidation. Waves of reassurance washed around him but they did little more than stop him from running away. No one had ever taken any notice of him except to shoo him away so the thought of several people focused on him and evaluating his ideas was unnerving, to say the least. Tarkyn gave his hand a friendly squeeze but kept a firm grip on it.

As they entered the clearing, Rainstorm glanced at Midnight, gave him a little wave and patted the ground next to him. Midnight returned the wave half-heartedly and looked from Rainstorm to Tarkyn and back again, clearly not wishing to offend Rainstorm but not wanting to leave Tarkyn’s side either.

“Come on, young fellow,” said Tarkyn with a wry smile, “I’ll squeeze in next to Rainstorm and you can sit on my knee. Move over Rainstorm.” Matching actions to words, Tarkyn settled himself in next to Rainstorm and looked around at everyone, “What did I miss? Any ideas?”

“You could spook the horses as you did last time,” suggested Rainstorm.

“Yes, I could, although if the trackers are really determined they will abandon the horses and continue on foot.”

Rainstorm shrugged, “At the very least, it would slow them down.”

“True,” Tarkyn pondered a moment, “Last time, some of the riders were quite cruel to the horses. I’ll keep it in mind, though.” He paused, “I have a few suggestions. I’ll just show them to you, shall I, and you can see what you think?” He transmitted Midnight’s ideas and waited.

Thunder Storm heaved a sigh, “It would solve all our problems if we had a good solid shower of rain. But it has been inconveniently dry for the last few days.” He paused, “I don’t suppose Stormaway could conjure up some rain for us, could he?”

Tarkyn shrugged, “Maybe if he was in the right place but I doubt that he could do it long distance and I don’t think he’d have enough power for a widespread storm.”

“Water is a good idea though,” said Waterstone. “We can bring water up from the stream to cleanse this firesite, if nothing else. It will take a lot of water though. We might be able to combine that with laying a false trail.”

“You could use water to obliterate the trail from the top of the ridge down to the sorcerer’s house,” Lapping Water narrowed her eyes as she thought, “But I think it would be too hard for the couple of woodfolk in the vicinity to do on their own. If there were more woodfolk there, it would work.”

Tarkyn grimaced, “And to be honest, I have reservations about the wolves idea. I think I could persuade them to attack the bloodhounds but many of them may be killed or mauled, either by the bloodhounds or by arrows from the men on horseback.”

“I like the idea of you bossing around the bloodhounds,” chortled Sparrow, “Tell Midnight. I bet he’ll like it too.”

“Thanks Sparrow,” replied Tarkyn dryly, “Actually, Midnight already knows. It was he who thought of these ideas.”

There was an arrested silence. Then all eyes turned to Midnight who was studiously keeping himself occupied by tying knots in the ties of Tarkyn’s shirt.

“Not bad, for such a little fellow,” said Rainstorm, “In fact, pretty bloody impressive. None of us has come up with anything better yet.”

Feeling everybody’s eyes on him, Midnight flicked a glance around them all. Even though he could feel Rainstorm’s approval, he couldn’t deal with the intensity of so many people focused on him, sure from experience, that something would go wrong. He made a convulsive attempt to escape but Tarkyn was ready for him and kept a firm arm around him.

“Uh-uh. Stay here, young rascal,” said Tarkyn as he surrounded him with reassurance, “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Midnight looked up at Tarkyn, gauged the determination in his face and subsided.

“So, will you try to control these bloodhounds then?” asked Waterstone.

Tarkyn raised his eyebrows and asked caustically, “What? Break their spirits as I did the wolf pack leader’s? I’m surprised you would condone such a course of action.”

Waterstone returned Tarkyn’s glare steadily, “Unlike wolves, bloodhounds are born into servitude. Their spirits are broken before they are even born.”

Having had more experience of domestic dogs than Waterstone, Tarkyn would have liked to challenge this statement, but faced with an undercurrent of tension in the woodfolk that had nothing to do with dogs, he chose to back down.

“Well, good. That will make it so much easier for me to impose my will, won’t it?” he said lightly, looking way from Waterstone to glance around the group. “Where’s Running Feet? Ah there. I’ll need a bit of peace and quiet to work from this distance. Would you come with me to help navigate my mind to those bloodhounds please?”

Tarkyn dislodged Midnight from his knee and but kept hold of his hand as he stood up. He thought of asking whether Midnight would stay with Rainstorm but decided that Midnight wasn’t ready to be left alone in a large group yet. As the three of them left the clearing, he smiled at Running Feet, “You see? This is what comes of having in depth discussions with Sparrow over maps. I now think of you as my chief navigator.”

“Why not? I’m as good as any at navigating, better than some. And I’ve already worked with you on sending your mind over long distances. So it saves you having to explain it all over again.”

Tarkyn smiled, “True. As long as you don’t mind.”

Running Feet looked down at Midnight trotting along at Tarkyn’s side. “I think you can probably let his hand go now if you want to. He won’t run away with just us. It’s the crowd that he needs to get away from.”

Tarkyn loosened his grip but left it up to Midnight whether to take his hand away or not. Midnight looked up, smiled and left his hand where it was.

As soon as they were out of earshot, they found a comfortable log to lean against and sat down. Midnight left them to it and headed off to play nearby.

“Right. It will be easier this time because you have just travelled this route yourself. Last time you had never even been there.”

“True,” said Tarkyn, “And if I had any sense of direction at all, I should probably be able to do this on my own.” He shrugged and grinned, “But as it is, I haven’t a clue which way we came from,” He looked around, “Except that I know we didn’t come from up there in the mountains.”

Running Feet grinned in return and shook his head, “You must have more idea than that.”

Tarkyn’s eyes twinkled, “Well, the mountains were ahead of us and to the left. So,” He swept his arm through a wide arc, “We must have come from somewhere over there.”

Running Feet laughed, “Yes, we did. And yes, I can see why that’s too vague a guide to follow to retrace our steps.”

“I thought so,” said Tarkyn with a hint of perverse triumph.

Over the next few minutes, Running Feet led Tarkyn’s mind back over their journey until they reached the forest between the Great West Road and the grasslands.

“They should be somewhere in here,” he said quietly.

Tarkyn let his mind rove around, feeling for the minds of the bloodhounds. After a few minutes he frowned, “I can’t find them. Just a minute. I’ll try to contact a bird to help me.”

Tarkyn’s mind wandered higher among the treetops until he found a large brown kite. He nudged its mind and asked it to fly across the forest in search of the bloodhounds. Suddenly, Tarkyn was soaring across the treetops scanning the ground far below him. He noticed with interest a small rabbit hopping for cover and a weasel sneaking through a stand of grass. With great forbearance, he left them untouched and continued his search. A pale blue haze attracted his attention and he swooped down for a closer look. Below him he saw men on horses following bloodhounds, all encased in a sorcerer’s bluey-grey shield.

“Hmm. That explains it,” grunted Tarkyn. He thanked the kite and pulled out to find himself next to Running Feet with Midnight kneeling next to him, peering anxiously into his face.

Running Feet gave a wry smile, “You forgot to tell your young friend what you were doing. I’m glad you weren’t gone too long. He’s been getting tenser by the minute.”

Tarkyn smiled, grabbed Midnight before he could shy away and pulled him down to sit next to him in the circle of his arm. Tarkyn shared the images with both of them, “They must have realised that their animals were being interfered with. And they’ve taken precautions this time.”

“Blast! And that knocks out another idea we had about using slingshots on the bloodhounds.” He glanced at Tarkyn, “We didn’t particularly want to do that anyway, because the soldiers had already noticed that the brigands and the encampment guards had both been mysteriously knocked out in the same way.”

“Yes. It’s becoming as much of a trademark as arrows would be. Just no proof.”

Tarkyn relayed this conversation to Midnight as they walked back to the firesite. Then, at Midnight’s request, he asked Running Feet, “Are bloodhounds afraid of wolves? And do wolves smell strong?”

Running Feet shrugged, “I don’t know anything about bloodhounds but most animals are afraid of wolves. And I think they do have a strong
scent. They certainly have a strong taste.”

“I can vouch for that.” Tarkyn grinned as he passed this on to Midnight.

Just as they sat down, Midnight tugged at Tarkyn’s sleeve to gain his attention and sent an image of wolves milling around and running back and forth along the grassland ridge closest to the sorcerer’s house.

Tarkyn’s face lit up and he nodded his approval. He let Midnight know that he would tell them all in a little while. The advent of the sorcerer’s shield into the equation worried all of them and needed discussion. Sorcerer’s shields were difficult to deal with.