The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (27 page)

Danton turned on his heel and walked off around the bend. The others all looked at each other. Tarkyn gave his head a little shake. “Unless I mistake the case, Danton is seriously angry with me. Why is it that just when you need someone’s support, you manage to offend them?” He frowned, “Rainstorm. No, Summer Rain. Go with him. He may need protection.”

“I can do that,” protested Rainstorm.

“Very well. Both of you go. We’ll follow on behind you.”

Just before they emerged into the clearing, Waterstone went out of focus to check on the state of play around the firesite. Then he reported, “Resentment is running high and the mood is beginning to turn ugly. I’m not surprised, after the way you summarily dismissed their efforts at reconciliation. And the executions have given them an excuse to turn their shame into anger. Ancient Oak said to tell you to remember the conversation in the oak tree.” Waterstone frowned quizzically, “I don’t know whether that means anything to you?”

Tarkyn gave a grunt of laughter. “Yes. He’s warning me not to be too arrogant. Perhaps the time has come to be more conciliatory.” The prince shrugged, “After all, we don’t want a rift among woodfolk, do we?”

“Not any more than we already have,” replied Waterstone tightly.

“This is going to be hard,” said Autumn Leaves, shaking his head.  He took a deep breath and gave Tarkyn a couple of hearty pats on the back. “Come on then, show them what you’re made of. We’re with you all the way.”

Tarkyn flicked him a grateful smile, before squaring his shoulders and walking back into the clearing.

Chapter
21

As soon as they appeared, Sparrow came running up to greet them, “Tarkyn, are you all right? Everyone’s talking about you being hurt. And there are huge eagles everywhere in the trees here. Someone said they’re mad at the mountainfolk for hurting you. They look pretty scary. I hope they’re not mad at us too.” She peered up at him, “Your face has patches of red and purple on it. Are they bruises? That’s not very nice of them, is it?”

Tarkyn grinned and despite his protesting muscles, bent down to pick up the chattering little girl onto his hip.

“Ooh,” he groaned quietly, “Waterstone, can you please hand me up your daughter? I don’t think I can lift her.”

As he delivered Sparrow, Waterstone whispered into her ear, “Careful, young lady. Tarkyn is a bit sore.”

Sparrow put her arms around Tarkyn’s neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek, “There. That will make it better.”

Tarkyn smiled at her, “I think it will. Thanks Sparrow. I just needed a hug about now.”

She gave him a big squeeze that hurt him, but was worth it. Then she leant away from him so she could study him. “Tarkyn, you look terrible. Purple everywhere and nasty cuts. Worse than green, even. Can’t you fix yourself?”

“I will soon. I promise. You won’t have to put up with me looking like this for long,” he said lightly.

Then Sparrow burrowed her head against his neck and whispered in his ear, “Tarkyn, I’m so sorry they hurt you. Bu
t
w
e
love you.”

He gave her a big squeeze, “Thanks Sparrow. I love you too.” After a moment he asked, “Shall we find somewhere to sit and have some food? I’m starving.”

As she nodded, Tarkyn reflected that the great thing about children was the way the rest of the world seemed to disappear for the time you were talking to them. He let his awareness pan back out to include all the people gathered around the firesite. They were all watching him, either surreptitiously or directly. The air was thick with a strange mixture of resentment, shame and anger. Danton had made sure there was somewhere for him to sit but was nowhere to be seen. Rainstorm and Summer Rain were also missing. Giving a mental shrug, Tarkyn swung Sparrow down and sat with his back to an enormous log. Sparrow sat snuggled up next to him, with her father on the other side of her and Autumn Leaves on the other side of the prince.

With a sigh, Tarkyn saw that everyone was waiting for him to speak. He realised that nothing could be resolved until he had at least opened the informal proceedings. He looked longingly at the roasted meat and vegetables that were piled in large dishes next to the fire waiting to be served out, but knew they would have to wait.

Tarkyn sent his gaze around the gathered woodfolk, “I came here in friendship, but expecting you to be resentful. From our own particular points of view we have each offended against the other. You have orchestrated a brutal attack on me. I have killed two of your fellow woodmen. It was the worst of beginnings for our association with each other. We cannot change that. All we can change is the effect that it has on our future relationship.” He paused, “The last thing I expected was that you would offer to swear the oath. And the last thing I meant to do was to create a rift between woodfolk.”

He took a deep breath. “I am not such a hypocrite that I can suddenly turn around and say that I know I can trust you. I have only known most of you mountainfolk for a couple of hours and I have very little on which to base my trust. Waterstone can tell you that my trust is hard won at the best of times.” He paused, “Except for this one incident which is open to interpretation, you may well be honourable people. All other woodfolk I have met are. But even if I were convinced  that you were honourable, I still would not want you to swear that sorcerous oath.”

At this, some quiet murmurs broke out within his audience. He held up his hand and waited until they were listening again. “I have always said that this oath with its sorcerous consequence for non-compliance is an insult to the integrity of woodfolk. I would not accept it from you or anyone else. If I had the choice, I would release all woodfolk from its sting. If you really wish to align yourself with me, you may devise an oath of your own making that depends only on your honour. Then time will show us the calibre of your integrity.”

Before the murmurings grew too high in volume, Tarkyn added apologetically, “I know it is not my place as your guest to ask, but do you think we could eat while we talk?”

This mundane request released a ripple of quiet laughter through the crowd and went a long way towards clearing the air of constraint. Some of the mountainfolk immediately came forward and set about serving out plates of roasted venison and vegetables.

As Tarkyn began to eat, he realised that it was going to be a painful process. Every time his jaw moved, it hurt and he had to manoeuvre food carefully into his mouth between split lips.

Autumn Leaves glanced at him and commented, “I think your brave face is slipping. You keep wincing as you chew.”

Tarkyn grimaced, “There’s a particular spot that I hit from time to time that is sorer than the rest. I think the tooth might be a bit loose.” He looked down at his plate. “How am I supposed to bite into that great wad of venison? My jaw is too sore.”

“I thought you weren’t eating meat any more?” queried Waterstone. “Weren’t you worried about chatting with it one minute and eating it the next?”

Tarkyn glanced up into the trees at his bevy of feathered retainers. “My ongoing association with our predatory friends up there has changed my view again. They think nothing of associating with their fellow creatures if they happen to find themselves in the same tree, provided they’re not hungry. Then they’ll eat them as quick as look at them, when they are.” He shrugged, “To be honest, they have been quite derisory about my efforts to be vegetarian.”

“Do you communicate with them all the time?”

“Often enough. Mind you, they are so strong minded, these birds of prey, that it only takes one wave of derision to make me start questioning myself.” Tarkyn flopped his piece of venison back down on his plate in disgust. “I think I’ll be forced to be vegetarian tonight. I can’t bite into that. And I can’t cut it up because my hands are still too stiff from those blasted ropes.”

“Here,” said Autumn Leaves, “Swap plates. I’ll cut yours up into little bits then swap back. How’s that?”

Tarkyn scowled ungraciously, “Embarrassing. But I’m so hungry I will accept. Just try to be subtle about it.”

“Certainly, Your Highness,” said Autumn Leaves obsequiously.

Tarkyn eyed him belligerently for a moment. “Sorry,” he said shortly.

Waterstone chortled and said quietly to Sparrow, “I think your Uncle Tarkyn is in a bad mood. What do you think?”

For an answer, Sparrow tugged on Tarkyn’s sleeve and when she had his attention said, “Don’t worry. It won’t be for long. Then you can go back to eating like a grown up again.”

Splutters of laughter from both sides greeted this remark. Tarkyn blinked at her for a moment, bemused. Gradually a slow smile spread across his face. “Thanks for that, Sparrow.” He looked from one to the other of the laughing woodmen and shook his head smiling, “So much for being subtle. Now everyone’s looking at us wondering what the joke is.”

Waterstone reached past Sparrow and patted him on the shoulder, “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m sure most of them were watching you anyway.”

“True. I don’t know why I try to delude myself into thinking I can get away with anything unnoticed.”

As Autumn Leaves handed his plate back to him, Dry Berry stomped defiantly over and plopped herself cross-legged in their circle with her plate on her lap. “Young man,” she said sharply, “I will not stay here if you would rather I didn’t, but if at all possible, I would like to repair our friendship.”

Tarkyn considered her silently for a long minute while he nibbled gingerly at a small piece of venison. Finally he said, “Dry Berry, I would value your friendship but I need one undertaking from you before I can speak easily with you again.”

Dry Berry’s eyes narrowed, “What is that?”

“That you will never again converse with me for the sole purpose of distracting my attention. That, more than anything, has undermined my faith in you.”

Dry Berry glanced with some discomfort at the other two listening in. Then she brought her green eyes resolutely back to meet Tarkyn’s. “I beg your pardon for that, Tarkyn. It was ill done. I do have a genuine interest in you and your doings and I should not have used that to manipulate you. You have my word that it will not happen again.” She put her head a little to one side and gave a slight cackle, “Besides, I can’t imagine it would work again. No matter what undertaking I give you, I suspect you will be more on your guard with me in the foreseeable future.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Now that you have made your test, there may be no more reason to be disingenuous with me. I hope not, anyway.” He nibbled his way through another piece of meat before asking conversationally, “So, do you mountainfolk still want to swear an oath to me?”

Dry Berry frowned. “I thought you said at the ceremony when you became a woodman that you didn’t want an oath from us. And you obviously still feel the same way, perhaps even more so.”

Tarkyn shook his head. “No. I said I had no intention o
f
askin
g
you to swear an oath. But today you offered me your oath. Because I was hurting and angry, I rejected your offer and by doing so, opened up a rift among the woodfolk.” He shrugged, “And so to repair the unity of the woodfolk, I think it is now important that I accept an oath from you. Not the sorcerous one, but an oath, nevertheless.”

The surrounding mountainfolk had broken off their own discussions and were now blatantly listening into the conversation between Dry Berry and the Forest Guardian.

Autumn Leaves leaned forward, “What you may not have realised, Dry Berry, is that you cannot alienate Tarkyn without alienating all of us. Regardless of the oath, he is one of us and a member of one of our families. If you insult him, you insult us.”

“We all felt grievously offended by your welcome,” said Waterstone sternly. “Suffice it to say that unless you people swear some sort of undertaking towards Tarkyn so that we can be sure he is safe and treated with the respect he deserves, at least as a fellow woodman, you will not see any of us again.”

Murmurs of consternation rose among the mountainfolk then fell into the silence of mindtalking. While they conferred, Tarkyn leant over and asked Autumn Leaves, “Where are Danton, Rainstorm and Summer Rain?”

Autumn Leaves sent out a query. When he received nothing in return, he tried again. His eyes widened in alarm. “Rainstorm and Summer Rain aren’t answering. Waterstone, you try.”

Tarkyn didn’t wait. He sent an image up to the birds of prey lowering in the trees above. Immediately six of them took off to scour the surrounding woodlands while two more swooped over the mountainfolk, shrieking just above their heads, their six-foot wingspans blotting out the sky. Before they realised what was happening, the mountainfolk had been effectively herded to the other side of the clearing by two aggressive eagles. Without hesitation, Tarkyn sent a peremptory mind image, ordering his home guard to gather around him. As they arrived, Tarkyn struggled to his feet and raised a translucent bronze dome around his woodfolk and himself.

Ignoring all this activity, Waterstone shook his head. “No. No response. That means they are either unconscious or dead. Blast it! We should have looked after Danton better. I dread to think what they’ve done to him.”

“The eagles and hawks can’t see them anywhere,” reported Tarkyn.

“They must be out of sight somewhere then, possibly in a shelter or a cave.” Waterstone tilted his head to one side. “How are you with bats?”