The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (43 page)

Danton realized that Tarkyn was slowly but surely driving the sorcerers and bloodhounds towards the mountain stream that plunged over slippery rocks down the steep valley.

“Danton, I’m going to have to change position. We need to move to that next tree. Let me go now while we levitate to that pine over there.”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t you climb on my back and I will levitate for the two of us? Then you can keep up your attack,” suggested Danton.

Tarkyn eyed him uncertainly, “Are you sure? Can you hold us both up?”

Danton grinned, “O ye of little faith! Let’s try it here where you can grab a branch if I fail.”

Tarkyn grasped the branch above and swung his legs either side of Danton who hovered in the air next to the tree. Gradually Tarkyn allowed his weight to settle on Danton’s hips and, as Danton held firm, let go of the branch altogether.

“This is marvellous, Danton. It’s like having an aerial horse.”

“Thanks,” replied Danton dryly. “I think I’ve just been demoted.”

“Oh, not at all,” chortled Tarkyn, “It’s well known that aerial horses outrank elite guards.”

Danton snorted with laughter, which made them dip alarmingly. “Whoops!” He refocused on the job at hand and bore Tarkyn towards the beleaguered sorcerers who had just managed to calm their animals again.

As soon as he was within easy range, Tarkyn sent down a shower of bronze blasts one after the other, now clearly driving the sorcerers in a particular direction. Even though the wizard and sorcerers realized what was happening, they were powerless to do anything about it. The path to the stream was narrow and any attempt by the sorcerers to deviate from it lead to a bronze shaft of power blasting a hole in the ground of their attempted escape route.

Before long, the sorcerers found themselves backed up on the banks of the tumultuous stream. The rocks were far too slippery and treacherous for any horse to attempt to cross them and a slip would send them plunging over the edge or into one of the deep rockpools. Either would mean the end of the horse and possibly its rider.

Danton hovered near an overhanging oak until Tarkyn had swung himself off his back. Then they both stood on a low bough looking down at the dishevelled men who, once more, were trying to quiet the baying hounds and calm their frightened horses.

Eventually, when order was restored, Tarkyn and Danton floated down to land calmly in front of the wizard.

“So, what are you planning to do with us now?” demanded Journeyman querulously. “Compound your crimes by murdering us as well?”

“I wouldn’t do that to the horses,” replied Tarkyn sweetly. As one of the sorcerers made a sudden movement to quiet his still skittish horse, he added, “unless I was forced to.”

“I think” said Danton, beginning to enjoy himself, “your mistake was in disbelieving His Highness. He is very particular about honesty, you know.”

J
ourneyman glared at Danton. Then gradually his brain began to work and his eyes narrowed as he asked the prince, “Since you can indeed use more than one spell at once, is it also true that your shield was reflective?”

Tarkyn raised supercilious eyebrows, “I have not told you a single untruth. It is up to you whether you believe me or not. I have no interest in convincing you.”

Journeyman Cloudmaker became very thoughtful. Eventually he said slowly, “If that is the case, that would mean you are not a rogue sorcerer after all.”

“No,” replied Tarkyn, “I am not. If I were a rogue sorcerer, I would have driven you and your men onto these rocks to plunge to your deaths down the cataracts.. Nevertheless, my shield did kill those men.”

“Interesting,” mused Journeyman. “This changes everything.” He shot a penetrating glance at the prince, “How long have you been in the forest?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember when I agreed to answer your questions,” said Tarkyn, determined not to place himself in a situation where he might have to lie to protect the woodfolk, more because he knew that he would not be able to lie convincingly, rather than from his natural honesty. “And I don’t remember when I gave you permission to address me without due courtesy.”

The wizard gave a slight bow from the back of his horse. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness. Could I just ask you whether you have met up with anyone? I understood that you had protected a family and captured quite a large group of bandits single-handedly. Quite impressive.”

Tarkyn stood up abruptly, “This audience is at an end. I did not come here to answer your questions. I came here to send you on your way back home. Now I suggest you leave.”

“Excuse me one moment, Your Highness.” Journeyman turned his horse around so that he could confer with his companions. Tarkyn waited patiently until he turned back to face the prince and said, “Your Highness, I acknowledge that you have the advantage over us.”

Tarkyn raised his eyebrows and murmured quietly, “How very astute.”

Journeyman continued as though Tarkyn had not spoken, “However, before we leave, may I just ask whether there is any way we can keep in contact with you without having to hunt you down?”

Tarkyn frowned in perplexity, “Journeyman, that is a very strange request. Surely you cannot expect a fugitive to leave his forwarding address.”

“No, but there may be some things we wish to communicate to you in the future.”

Tarkyn’s eyes narrowed, “If, having seen my powers and knowing now that I am not a rogue sorcerer, you are seeking to enlist my aid to your cause, I can tell you that I will not support either of my brothers against the other.” He sighed, “But I do fear for the future of Eskuzor. So, if you can do anything to protect her people, please do so.” He thought for a moment, “As you enter the forests from Tormadell, there is a large old
horse chestnut tree with a hollowed out trunk on the left hand side of the road. If you place any messages in there, I will receive them eventually. It may take several weeks, though, for me to come that way again. Obviously, if I become aware that the tree is being watched, nothing will be picked up.” He gave a slight smile, “I should warn you that I have a comprehensive intelligence system. I have known you and your bloodhounds were coming, ever since you left the encampment.”

Journeyman looked a little stunned at this information. “And yet you stayed to meet us. You could have been miles away by now.”

“Yes, but then that would have been on your terms and I prefer to set my own terms. I do not like to be hunted.” Tarkyn was completely in control, “Now that we have met and you have gauged the calibre of my opposition, you may be less keen to waste your time and mine in hunting me down. And I think if you decide that an army will solve your dilemma, you may find me more elusive.”

The young wizard knew that he had more than met his match. He bowed low from the back of his horse, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness, and you, Your Lordship. I have taken careful note of the fact that you could have harmed us but chose not to and would like to thank you for your forbearance since in similar circumstances, I believe I would not have been so circumspect.”

Tarkyn’s eyes twinkled, “I appreciate your honesty and will take care not to give you the advantage in the future.”

Without another word, the wizard, followed by the sorcerers and bloodhounds, picked their way carefully past the prince and his liegeman to head back towards the clearing, and from there, to begin their long journey to the encampment.

Just before they disappeared from sight around the bend in the path, Tarkyn called quietly after the wizard, “And Journeyman, I would not be so merciful should you choose to double back on us and try again. Remember, I have eyes everywhere.”

As soon as they were out of sight, the two sorcerers looked at each other and grinned.

“That went well then,” said Danton jauntily.

“I think so.”

“It’s a pity you couldn’t have asked him what he knows of woodfolk.”

“But then you would have had to betray the fact that you knew about us, too,” said Waterstone, who had just appeared.

“Precisely,” said Danton.

“Exactly,” agreed Tarkyn, “So we couldn’t.”

Waterstone looked from one to the other, “You two seem very pleased with yourselves.”

Danton beamed, “It’s not every day you outface one wizard, eight sorcerers and six bloodhounds,”

“And nine horses,” added Tarkyn.

“And nine horses,” agreed Danton with a huge smile.

Waterstone smiled broadly in return, “So perhaps now, you two could finish off the rescue you started. There’s a certain little boy sitting up in a nearby tree, refusing all attempts to get near him or to bring him down.”

“He’s a good little fellow, isn’t he?” said Tarkyn. He smiled wryly, “I made him swear that he would stay in that tree until I came back for him. I didn’t want him either misguidedly trying to help, or running away.”

Waterstone raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know that everyone else thinks he’s good, after running off and thrusting you and Danton into danger.”

“Oh come on, Waterstone. Surely you can see what he was doing. He didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Yes, of course I can see. Anyone who still has kids can see. It’s the people who’ve grown out of kids or whose kids have outgrown them who don’t make allowances for the way kids’ minds work.” Waterstone flicked Tarkyn a glance, knowing he would not like what he was about to say, “He will have to learn some discipline though. Had he been just a few years older and betrayed our presence, he would have been be exiled.”

Tarkyn let out a low whistle, “What? A little boy? Sent off on his own? Dog’s teeth, you people are tough.”

Waterstone raised his eyebrows, “Oh. It’s you people again, is it?”

“Waterstone, I could never countenance sending a little boy away like that.”

The woodman shrugged, “You’re tough about people laying hands on royalty. We’re tough about having our presence being betrayed. At least in our case, it’s for the good of the whole community.”

“In our case, it is also for the good of the whole community,” retorted Tarkyn hotly. “Without the King and due respect, our society would be thrown into chaos.”

“That’s simply because you people don’t have enough patience and enough respect for each other to be able to reach a consensus. So your people sacrifice their own authority and allow someone else to tell them what to do.”

As Tarkyn stood glaring at Waterstone, a dry cough interrupted the debate that was fast turning into a heated argument.

“Not wishing to distract you from this entertaining interchange, but there is still a boy up a tree,” said Danton urbanely.

Without another word, Tarkyn turned on his heel and walked off to collect Midnight.

Danton watched him go but didn’t follow him. Instead he turned to Waterstone and said, “I would like to see how your holier-than-thou attitudes would work in a society ten times the size of your own and with no mindtalking. Each point in a discussion would take months to be communicated around the kingdom. At that rate, even a simple decision could take several years. By then, it might no longer be relevant.”

Waterstone went to answer but stopped himself. His eyes narrowed as he tried to imagine the woodfolk without mindtalking. Finally, he said, “You could at least use consensus within each smaller community.”

“You could,” replied Danton, “And in some villages I expect they do, but I would have to admit that most communities are under the governance of either one liege or a small council of men and women who make the important decisions for them and make representation to the King, should the need arise. Don’t forget, we have to stop what we’re doing, travel to some central location and confer face to face each time we want reach a communal decision.”

“Hmph,” grunted Waterstone, “I will have to think about this. No mindtalking is a serious disability for your society, isn’t it?”

Danton gave a quizzical smile, “I can’t say I had ever viewed it in that way. Since none of us has ever known about, or possessed that ability, we have not realized our lack.”

Meanwhile Tarkyn had reached the pine tree where he had deposited Midnight, and was standing beneath it looking up into its branches. Midnight had ensconced himself as high up in the branches as he could, where heavier woodfolk could not venture. He was exuding a disquieting aura of fear, hostility and self-loathing. Rainstorm and Lapping Water were positioned lower in the pine tree but had not wanted to climb any closer, in case Midnight retreated further still up into branches too weak to carry his weight. Tarkyn’s attempts to contact the little boy were met with a determined barrier.

“He’s not letting me talk to him,” said Tarkyn to the two woodfolk. “Can you two stay where you are and be ready to try to catch him if he falls. I’m going to come at him from another direction. I don’t want to risk driving him up higher.”

Tarkyn strode off through the forest. From high in the tree, Midnight watched him go and huddled down deeper into himself allowing his misery to engulf him, desolated that the prince had given up on him so easily. Suddenly strong arms grabbed him from behind, pinioning his arms to his side. In his fright, Midnight thrashed about and kicked out but couldn’t make contact with the person behind him. Then he looked down and saw the leather wristband he had made, on Tarkyn’s wrist where it lay across his chest. He stopped wriggling and slowly moved his pinioned hand enough to touch the wristband. Then the little boy sent out wave after wave of contrition and dissolved into tears. Tarkyn turned him around, swung him onto his hip and held him close until the wracking sobs had subsided.