The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (61 page)

“True. I did. It took me a long time to get that through his stubborn little six-year-old head. But when he finally did understand what his actions were doing, he changed his tactics.” He glanced at Waterstone, “I suspect you won’t like what he chose to do next.”

Danton stood up and poured himself another cup of tea from the big kettle hanging over the fire. Sitting down he blew on his tea before saying, “One day, soon after Tarkyn’s seventh birthday, we were playing with Rollabout and, between the three of us, a precious antique vase was broken. Needless to say, it was I who stood to be punished for it. The dog was shooed outside, and Tarkyn and I were lined up in front of Old L
aramar, Tarkyn’s tutor, to be disciplined. I was told to take my shirt off and to stand facing the wall. Obviously I was about to be flogged. Behind me, I heard Tarkyn grab the whip out of the old tutor’s hand and order him away. I must admit I sighed to myself, knowing this would mean an even more severe punishment. Old Laramar left in high dudgeon and predictably, returned with a family member, this time King Markazon. I glanced at Tarkyn and shook my head slightly, hoping he would back down.

“And did he?” asked String.

Danton gave a short laugh, “Far from it. For a while he appeared to back down. He stood quietly to one side, which was unusual, and waited until Old Laramar was standing ready to whip me with the King supervising. Then Tarkyn threw up his shield and held out his arm to show the King that he was holding a razor sharp piece of the vase pressed onto the skin of his forearm. He said that for every stroke of the whip, he would cut his arm once. His father glared at him for several long moments. The King ordered him to remove his shield and to behave but Tarkyn met his stare and refused to comply. Markazon then turned away decisively and ordered Old Laramar to flog me.

“Even as the first stroke of the whip came down, I heard Tarkyn’s voice, calm and strong, saying, “As you choose, father.” The King whipped his head back around to see blood welling up from a cut on his son’s forearm. Old Laramar had not been ordered to stop. So, as the second stroke hit me, Tarkyn cut himself again. Blood began to drip from his arm onto the polished parquetry floor but Tarkyn paid no heed. His intense amber eyes did not leave those of his father’s. As Old Laramar raised his arm again, the King ordered him to stop and waved his hand in dismissal.

“The King yelled furiously at his little seven-year-old son, standing in his shield defying him. He roared that he could order Tarkyn’s and, of course, my death as well, for such defiance. When Tarkyn realised that I could be put to death for his actions, he looked uncertain for the first time, but still he did not drop his shield. After a long silence, Tarkyn bowed low and when he straightened, trembling slightly, he finally replied, “Sire, we only broke a vase. And I have only tried to protect my friend. I have tried to be perfect so that he is never punished but I can’t do it. I don’t remember all the rules all the time, you see. I have tried and tried but I can’t do it.” Then he started crying but still he kept his shield up and kept the sharp piece of vase in his hand. And all this time, his blood was dripping onto the floor, beginning to pool at his feet. Markazon was clearly at a loss. He saw me watching and snapped at me to put my shirt back on and leave.”

Danton took a sip of his tea.

“Well go on, what happened then?” asked Dry Berry impatiently.

Danton shrugged and smiled, “I don’t know. I wasn’t there, you see, and Tarkyn never told me. But from then on, I was not punished for Tarkyn’s wrong doings. We were both just told off together.”

“What about when Markazon died and Kosar took over?” asked Stormaway.

“No. Not until we were much older and there was that one incident that came to public notice. I think the brothers were too busy with their own affairs to concern themselves with events in the nursery. Besides, once Tarkyn had his own way, there were no more scenes and disputes, and fetching the family to override his misbehaviour. So there was no need to revise Markazon’s decision.”

Autumn Leaves was smiling hugely, “You have to hand it to Tarkyn. What a brave, loyal little fellow, to stand up to his father like that. Markazon was terrifying when he was angry. And no wonder the King had faith in his son when he came to us in the forest.” He frowned, “But why, after all you had been through together and everything he had done for you, didn’t Tarkyn realise he could trust you?”

Danton shrugged unhappily, “I don’t know.”

“I don’t think he understands the effect he has on people; how much you and we are willing to do for him,” suggested Waterstone. “And nothing in his behaviour has changed. He was willing to give everything to help you and now it is the same with us. But he never asked or expected you or anyone else to take risks by covering for him then, and he still won’t allow us to do it now.”

“There is a certain sublime arrogance about all that;” mused Bean, “insisting that he needs no one’s help.”

Waterstone shook his head, “No. I don’t think it’s that. He will accept help, provided it does not place anyone at risk. From what Danton has just told us, I think Tarkyn has spent his life making sure people don’t suffer because of him. And he’s still doing it now.”

“If that’s true, he must have hated the fact that we had been forced into the oath because of him,” said Autumn Leaves, “No wonder he tried so hard to be accommodating.”

“Yes, it all fits, doesn’t it?” said Running Feet thoughtfully. “Well, I wish you luck, Waterstone, in trying to change it.”

Waterstone grunted, “Hmm, could be a challenge, I agree. Still, he’s changed other preconceptions, so I hold out some hope.”

At this juncture, Tarkyn’s message of apology came through from Ancient Oak. Waterstone’s eyes gleamed with laughter as he relayed it faithfully to Danton, “Tarkyn says, and I quote, ‘I am sorry if I have upset you and thank you for your efforts in apprehending the two bounty hunters. I also acknowledge your superior knowledge and skill within the woodland.” 

“What is Ancient Oak doing, demanding an apology from Tarkyn after all he did for us last night?” scowled Dry Berry.

“Different issue all together,” said Danton with a smile. “I think Rainstorm and Ancient Oak had a lovely little plan to hand over the administration of lookout duty to Tarkyn if he didn’t allow other people to take some responsibility.”

Dry Berry shook her head disapprovingly, “You’re pretty tough on him, you lot.”

Waterstone suddenly roared with laughter. “Sorry, Dry Berry. But I think when you hear this, you will realise that it takes more than that to cow our forest guardian. Danton, Tarkyn added a small rider to his apology and I quote, ‘Just bear in mind when you’re making your judgements that neither the other sorcerers nor I can join in with your mind talking and are prone to being isolated. Furthermore, I may have less bushcraft than you, but I have vastly more power and experience of sorcerers than you woodfolk and I want it used for everyone’s safety, especially if there are outside sorcerers involved.’”

Stormaway smiled fondly, “That’s my boy. Takes the wind out of their sails but doesn’t actually budge an inch.”

Hard upon this remark, the man in question arrived in person, helped himself to a cup of tea and sat down next to a scruffy old mountain ash. Holding his cup in one hand, Tarkyn placed the palm of his other hand against the tree and took a deep breath to settle himself in. He looked around at them all, “You’re all very quiet this morning. Don’t tell me you’re plotting too. I’ve been surrounded by plots for the last couple of hours.”

“That wouldn’t have been about lookouts at all, would it?” asked Autumn Leaves with a grin.

Tarkyn smiled, “Yes, and the rest.” He waved a hand, “But I won’t bore you with the rest of it. Did you receive my apology, Waterstone and Danton?”

“Yes thank you, and the rider,” replied Waterstone evenly.

“Good. So that’s settled then, isn’t it?” asked Tarkyn, grinning. When neither Waterstone nor Danton replied, the prince’s smile faded, “I really am sorry if I made you feel that I didn’t trust your judgement.” He took a sip of tea, “To be honest, I added the rider mainly to wind up Ancient Oak and Rainstorm. I must have caused quite a bit of discontent if they spent so much time planning today’s little gambit. So I apologise.”  After this he lapsed into silence and leant against the tree quietly sipping his tea. 

Dry Berry peered at him, “You don’t look too well, young man. Even after a quiet morning, you still look white and drawn. Perhaps you need another tonic.”

“No, one in a day is as much as I can bear,” said Tarkyn firmly, “The tree will sort me out.” He looked around the group and spotted Bean. “Bean, I remember now. We have some unfinished business, you and I.”

Murmurs of protest on Bean’s behalf wafted around the group. Tarkyn frowned and they fell quiet. “I seem to be getting it from all sides today,” he said, the last of his good humour evaporating. He addressed himself exclusively to Bean, “Sometime this morning, I remembered your remark about enduring another tongue lashing. I am sorry that you are finding it so difficult having to remain in close proximity with me. I will endeavour to keep out of your way as much as possible. I would like to thank you for your support last night. Without your hand on my shoulder, I might not have been able to pull myself apart from Pipeless. Clearly, I made a serious mistake in not accepting the support I was offered. I jeopardised the future of all woodfolk by refusing to allow anyone but myself to put themselves at risk. So I thank you for the independent spirit that allowed you to risk my ire by coming to my rescue and I also acknowledge that many others of you would have done the same, were it not for the consequences of the oath.” Tarkyn took a deep breath, put down his cup and stood up. “And now, I think I will go elsewhere for a while, where I don’t have to keep apologising for every move I have made in the last forty eight hours.”

Before anyone could say anything, the prince strode off across the clearing and climbed up a steep path before being lost from sight behind a fall of boulders.

There was a strained silence. Finally Running Feet said, “Looks like your point has already been taken before you even made it, Waterstone.”

“Hmm, I think I was a bit severe about the rider to the apology,” he replied thoughtfully.

“Oh, do you think so?” said Autumn Leaves sarcastically, “Forcing him to apologise all over again?”

Danton grimaced, “And perhaps we should have waited until we heard what he was going to say before we all jumped to Bean’s defence.”

“Definitely, I would say,” agreed Bean.

“Absolutely,” said String dolefully.

“I told you that you were being too tough on him,” said Dry Berry acerbically. “He’s worn out. Don’t you realise that he’s just become the greatest hero of our time and all you can do is complain about the things he hasn’t done exactly as you would like? Where’s that Rainstorm and Ancient Oak? I think I’ll give them a piece of my mind too.” She went out of focus to deliver a mental dressing down to the two hapless young woodmen.

“So now what are we going to do?” asked Autumn Leaves. “We can’t leave him up there on his own, feeling that everyone is down on him. After all, if we’re planning to have a proper celebration tonight to mark his achievement and the reunification of the woodfolk, it will be fairly pointless if he’s not there.”

“Who hasn’t rubbed him up the wrong way today?” asked Running Feet. “Whoever that is, we can send them.”

After a mental conference they worked out that for some reason, Rainstorm had reservations about everyone in the group of young woodfolk, that everyone in their own group had blotted their copy book and that children shouldn’t be sent to do adults’ work.

“Hmm,” said Running Feet, “We really have side-lined him today if, between all of us, there is no one to approach him.”

“What about Golden Toad or Falling Branch or Tree Wind?” suggested Danton.

“Any of them would be fine but leave it. I’ll go after him,” said Waterstone. “I’ll just give him a few minutes to cool down first.”

While this consultation was going on around the firesite, Tarkyn stumbled wearily up the rocky path, the spurt of anger that had propelled his footsteps out of the clearing long since dissipated. Now, with his tiredness threatening to overwhelm him, he smiled wryly at his over-reaction. But as he reflected on whether to stay away for a while or to return, he caught his foot and, with fatigue dulling his reflexes, fell heavily. He rolled to the right down a steep shale-covered slope and before he could gather his dulled wits, flipped over the edge of a rocky gully and plummeted to land heavily on a small ledge fifteen feet below the path. As he fell, his mind sent a brief cry of alarm before closing down on impact.

The first anyone knew of it was Midnight, running up to Waterstone and tugging anxiously on his sleeve. Being preoccupied with trying to sort out their plan of action to make amends with Tarkyn, Waterstone was inclined to be impatient but one look at the little boy’s face caught his attention. Midnight looked into his eyes and when he was sure Waterstone was focused on him, carefully sent an image of Tarkyn calling out.

Waterstone was so alarmed that he didn’t even register that Midnight had communicated with him, “Where?”

Midnight watched Waterstone’s lips and knew what he had asked but not the answer. He shrugged and waved vaguely in the direction Tarkyn had taken. Waterstone sent his mind out to see whether he could contact Tarkyn, all thought of a careful conciliatory approach forgotten. He checked with the lookouts but they had been scanning in another direction when Tarkyn fell. They were able to confirm that they could no longer see him, however.