The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (25 page)

“So now you know,” said Tarkyn slowly, “You are not under oath. Do I presume that your joy at finding yourselves to be free caused you to indulge in a frenzy of cruelty? Or did your attack on me spring from fellow feeling for the oathbound woodfolk who could not attack me themselves?” He glanced at Waterstone and Rainstorm, standing stalwartly on either side of him, “I’m sure they will be most grateful.” Waterstone was relieved to hear sarcasm underlying this last remark.

Dry Berry looked at Dripping Rock, and then went out of focus. For long minutes, there was an uneasy silence. Tarkyn stood silently before the mountainfolk, flanked by loyal woodfolk and guarded by deadly birds of prey, never more clearly the guardian of the forest. He could feel waves of fear, shame and anger sweeping back and forth among the mountainfolk that rose to a crescendo and then dissipated, although ripples of resentment still emanated from little hotspots here and there around the firesite.

Dry Berry took a deep breath and addressed Tarkyn, “When we last met, I observed that you could get exactly what you want without the oath, as your mastery over these powerful lords of the sky so clearly proves.”

Even through the haze of pain, Tarkyn had time to be glad that the birds of prey could not understand what Dry Berry said. He knew that these fearsome birds would never call anyone their master.

Then Dripping Rock bowed obsequiously and spoke, “Your Highness, we are truly sorry that things have gone so badly awry and would make you reparation.”  He glanced fearfully at the predatory birds glaring down at them, “We yield before your power. You are indeed Lord of the Forest. And so, we have agreed that we will take your oath.”

Tarkyn raised bloodied eyebrows and replied disdainfully, “I do not want your oath. I have never wanted it and I particularly do not want it now. I would not want the safety of our forest dependent on your honour and goodwill.” 

There was a shocked intake of breath. Shamefaced mountainfolk glanced surreptitiously at each other or lowered their eyes. None of them could meet the eyes of Tarkyn or the home guard.

But Tarkyn did not relent. “In my society, it is an honour to serve a prince. You do not deserve that honour. And for me, it is an honour to have such fine people as these,” Tarkyn swept his hand around his home guard, “as my liegefolk. I would not feel honoured to have you as liegefolk.”

Beside him, Waterstone let out a long slow breath of consternation.

Still Tarkyn had not finished. “And you will certainly make me reparation but not on your terms, on mine. Danton,” The name came out as a croak. He coughed and tried again, “Danton. Come here, please.”

Danton steeled himself to approach the fearsome eagles. As he made his way up to stand beside Tarkyn, a buzz of conjecture spread through the crowd.

Tarkyn, Prince of Eskuzor, pushed himself away from the oak and stood tall. He sent out an imperious order for silence. The mountainfolk blanched, never having experienced his mind-images before. Even his own woodfolk were shocked.

Tarkyn waited until all eyes were turned to him. He cleared his throat again before pronouncing, “The penalty for attacking a member of the Royal Family of Eskuzor is death.” His voice became stronger. “On some occasions, clemency may be granted.”  Tarkyn let his amber gaze travel across his audience. “This is not one of those times.”

To Danton by his side, Tarkyn pointed out his two assailants who had now moved around to the other side of the fire where they stood with their arms folded, clothing ripped and bloodied, but having recovered enough to be looking aggrieved by the eagle’s treatment.

“Those two,” was all he said.

Before anyone had time to react, two knives flicked fifty feet across the clearing and embedded themselves deep in the mountainmen’s chests. The thugs died with looks of surprise on their faces. A horrified silence fell like a curtain on the gathered woodfolk. Then a babble of outrage and anger broke out around the firesite. In the branches above, the gathered birds of prey shifted their positions and ruffled their feathers uneasily.

On one side of Tarkyn, Waterstone was looking a little sick. On the other, Rainstorm looked even sicker. Danton stood impassively beside his liege, having always understood the reality of this edict.

“What right have you to impose punishment?” demanded Dripping Rock hotly. “You have just refused us. We are not under your oath.”

“Whether you are subject to the oath or not, you are still subject to the laws of the land as I, in the forest, choose to enforce them.”

“And what abou
t
you
r
oath?” Dripping Rock persisted.

Tarkyn shrugged and said disdainfully, “I would hardly be protecting woodfolk if I allowed vermin like that to continue to pollute your firesite.”

“Ho
w
dar
e
you impose your judgement on our kin?” raged the old mountainman.

The eagle at Tarkyn’s feet turned its glare on Dripping Rock, stalked a few threatening steps in his direction and flapped its wings. The mountainman shuffled quickly back out of range.

Tarkyn drew himself up against protesting bruising. “I dare because I am a Prince of Eskuzor and Guardian of your Forest. I dare because everything I have seen of woodfolk until now leads me to believe that woodfolk do not condone such cruel, undisciplined behaviour. And I dare because if you lose me, your guardian of the forest, you may lose everything you hold dear.” He turned his gaze to Dry Berry, “Last time we met, you described me as a dangerous young man. You were right. I am dangerous and you have crossed me at your cost.”

Dry Berry drew breath, “Tarkyn, we made a mistake, a bad mistake. I did not realise how deeply the resentment ran among some people. I should have remembered that most people here haven’t met you before. It does make a difference to one’s attitude, you know.”

Tarkyn stared at her for a moment, appearing to consider her words. In actual fact, he was wondering how much longer he could stand up. He drew a painful breath, “I presume I have your undertaking that you will not mount another attack on me?”

Dry Berry and Dripping Rock nodded. “Of course, Your Highness,” averred Dripping Rock. “We would not dream of trying to outface the lords of the air.”

Tarkyn let his gaze rove around the other mountainfolk, “And you?”

There were hurried nods, several people throwing covert glances at the dead woodmen still lying on the other side of the firesite.

Tarkyn nodded over at the corpses and said casually, “You might like to remove those bodies before your food is cooked.”

He turned his attention to the gathered birds of prey and sent them feelings of gratitude and release. In response, the huge birds launched themselves off the ground and from his shoulder, flapping their enormous wings ponderously as they rose. For a moment, Tarkyn was completely obscured by the tawny greys, blacks and browns of the great birds of prey and the distinctive gold and black of the mountain eagle. Then they glided low over the clearing, forcing woodfolk to duck before resettling themselves in overhanging branches around the clearing rather than flying away.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, reopening a cut as he did so, “I see they do not yet feel ready to trust you with my safety. It is a grim day when the forest turns against woodfolk.” He looked for his own woodfolk in the faces before him, “Autumn Leaves, is there a stream nearby? Could you come with us please? I need to clean up.” As they moved forward, Tarkyn added, “Thunder Storm and Creaking Bough, would you please retrieve our children if the mountainfolk will be so good as to release them?”

Another angry muttering rose among his woodfolk.

Dry Berry held up her hand, “That is not quite fair. The children are playing together quite happily. We have merely ensured they were kept away while we…while we…” Her voice trailed away into an embarrassed silence.

“But without asking any of us,” rumbled Thunder Storm, more forcefully than Tarkyn had ever seen him. “We want them back with us immediately.”

“I will take you to them,” said a woodwoman with a strangely echoey voice, “My name is Cavern.”

“And make sure you have cleared away your two henchmen before we get back,” rumbled Thunder Storm peremptorily.

It occurred to Tarkyn that the status of the home guard had just risen with his refusal to accept the oath of the Mountainfolk. Tarkyn ran his hand through his hair and grimaced when he brought it back down, again sticky with blood.

“I think you had better come with us too, Summer Rain, if you don’t mind,” he said calmly as he turned to follow Autumn Leaves out of the clearing and towards the nearby stream.

Chapter
20

As soon as they were out of sight of the mountainfolk, Tarkyn asked tightly, “Any lookouts?”

“Not in sight of here,” reported Autumn Leaves after a quick scan of the surrounding trees.

“Good,” Tarkyn stopped in his tracks. “Waterstone, Danton, your shoulders, if you will.”

As Tarkyn allowed himself to sag onto their shoulders, they realised with shock that his whole body was trembling and he was struggling to support his own weight. It was borne upon them the degree of determination that it had taken for him to stand upright for so long.

“Oh Tarkyn, you poor bugger,” said Waterstone sympathetically, “Do you want to rest or get down to the stream?”

“How far is it?”

“Not far. Another forty yards or so. It’s just around the bend in the path, past those mountain ashes,” replied Waterstone calmly, although his chest felt tight with concern.

“Right then. Let’s get there quickly before you both collapse under my weight.”

Danton and Waterstone virtually carried Tarkyn the rest of the way to the stream. When they reached the bank of the stream, they lowered him carefully down onto the ground with his back up against a mossy boulder. Beside him, the water tumbled down a steep gully over great boulders, gathering in small deep pools in the shadows of the rocks.

Very little was said over the next ten minutes while Summer Rain removed Tarkyn’s shirt and attended to the gashes and bruises that covered his upper body and face, but there were some narrowed eyes and thinned lips among his onlookers. Rainstorm placed a cup under the falling water and brought it to Tarkyn but his hands were shaking so badly that Rainstorm had to hold it for him while he drank.

Tarkyn lay with his eyes closed while Summer Rain did what she could. When she had finished, she said, “There. That’s the best I can do for now. Your wounds have all been cleaned and there are healing and disinfecting herbs on all your abrasions. The bleeding has stopped. Nothing is broken but you will be very sore for the next few days unless you heal yourself.”

Tarkyn opened his eyes and gave a careful smile, wincing as the movement of his mouth pulled on his cut lip, “Thanks. I will, in time. I couldn’t concentrate on healing myself while I was still in danger. And I have just tried again but I’m too churned up at the moment. I can’t stop thinking about the attack long enough to gather my forces. Maybe later tonight, after we have eaten and settled down: I may be able to concentrate then.”

Waterstone squatted down next to him and asked, “So, how did you get yourself into the situation with your hands tied behind your back? Did you allow them to do it as you did with the forestals?”

“No, my friend. I was not planning any heroics this time. They grabbed me just as I noticed that you people had been drugged. I think Dry Berry kept me talking to her so that I wouldn’t notice you getting drowsy until it was too late.” He couldn’t disguise the note of bitterness that had entered his voice. He ran a hand dispiritedly through his hair and once more it came away sticky. He looked at it in disgust. “Hmm, I can’t be having that. Any of these pools big enough to bathe in?”

“You’ll die of shock if you go into one of those pools, prince,” said Rainstorm firmly. “That water is melted ice.”

Despite his cut lip, Tarkyn achieved an evil grin, “I’m sure we’ll manage, Rainstorm.”

Rainstorm rolled his eyes. “Someone tell him. It’s way too cold.”

“I don’t know,” replied Summer Rain thoughtfully, “Now he’s over the shock, it may be helpful. Reduce bruising and stimulate his circulation.”

Everyone stared incredulously at the healer, thinking that at last she had cracked a joke. But then they realised she was calmly serious. All heads looked back to Rainstorm.

“Probably be good for you too, Rainstorm,” said Danton with a perfectly straight face.

Tarkyn was smiling. “Come on, Rainstorm. Help me over to one of those dark, inviting pools. I can’t go around with hair matted with blood. It will start to stink soon, if nothing else. You’ll love it once you’re in.”

It took more than Rainstorm’s effort to get Tarkyn up and over the slippery wet rocks and into a dark pool. The pool looked bottomless, but as it turned out, the water was only slightly over waist height.

As Tarkyn was assisted to lower himself into the water, he drew in a long sharp breath. “Whoa, this is so cold it hurts! I don’t know which is worse; getting beaten up or this.” As they let him go, he drew in a breath and dropped under the water. A second later, he came up gasping, “Oh no. Definitely this. Come on, Rainstorm. You have to come in because I can’t move my arms well enough at the moment to clean my hair.”