“Who are you?” demanded a young woodman rudely.
Tarkyn raised his eyebrows. “But surely you know.” He let his amber eyes travel around them all and sketched a shallow bow. “I am Tarkyn Tamadil, Prince of Eskuzor and of these forests, also known as guardian of the forest.”
“And also known as rogue sorcerer,” added the belligerent youth.
The prince grimaced, “Yes. I had forgotten that one.”
“We are under no obligation to you,” growled the first man he had seen. There was a tiny pause, “I am Falling Branch and we people are known as the forestals.”
“I am aware that you are under no obligation to me, Falling Branch.”
“Who betrayed us?”
“No one has betrayed you. Waterstone made a slightly evasive reply to one of my questions that alerted me to your existence.” The prince drew himself up. “They betrayed my trust but they have not betrayed yours. I found my own way here,” he added.
“So you have come to force us into taking your oath, have you?”
Tarkyn looked around at them all with a slight smile. “And how would I do that?”
The woodfolk looked at each other then a woodwoman replied, “With your sorcery. I am Sun Shower.”
The sorcerer frowned, “I did not create the sorcery of the oath.”
“We have heard what you did to the other woodfolk,” she persisted.
Tarkyn crossed his arms. “And have you heard that I hurt anyone?”
There were reluctant shakes of heads.
“I don’t think I could force you into taking that oath” said the sorcerer thoughtfully, “but I wouldn’t want to, even if I could.”
Murmurs of surprise and disbelief emerged from the crowd.
“What do you want with us, then, that you come sneaking into our firesite like a thief in the night?” demanded Falling Branch.
The prince wrinkled his nose in distaste, “Hardly like a thief. A thief would not wait quietly for you all to get up and speak with him.” He wrapped his cloak back around himself and shivered. “No. I have come here to allow you the opportunity to kill me if you must, or to come to some sort of working arrangement with me, otherwise.” He looked around calmly at the boggling faces. “One of the first things Autumn Leaves said to me was that anyone who saw the woodfolk did not leave the forest alive. That group of woodfolk has not been able to kill me because of the oath. But you people have no such impediment. I have come here alone so no oathbound woodfolk is forced to protect me.” He swung his arms wide, flinging his cloak open. “So here I am. Do with me as you will.”
He saw them go out of focus. “Might I suggest that you make your own decisions? If you confer with the oathbound woodfolk, they will have to try to persuade you to spare me. So, for more honest opinions, ask the rest of you.”
Sun Shower looked at him strangely, “Do you want to die?”
The prince shrugged. “Frankly, at this stage in my life, that’s a rather moot point. I don’t think I care very much one way or the other.”
“Why shouldn’t we kill you?”
Tarkyn smiled faintly. “Two reasons. Firstly, if I am truly a guardian of the forest, you will need me to protect you from whatever danger threatens you. Secondly, there may be repercussions to the forest for the oathbound woodfolk failing to protect me – I hope not. I tried to make it virtually impossible for them to protect me in order to minimise that risk.”
“And why do you think we would kill you?”
“Again two reasons.” The prince’s voice was completely dispassionate. “Firstly because I’m an outsider who has seen you woodfolk, and secondly, and I would have thought more importantly, to release your fellow woodfolk from the oath.”
Falling Branch raised his eyebrows. “You’re a pretty cool customer. You’re being remarkably forthright for someone in your position.”
Tarkyn shook his head. “Not really. You have to remember I put myself in this position. There’s no point in entering the lion’s den and then trying to wriggle back out of it. If I live long enough for you to get to know me, you will learn that I am, as Waterstone puts it, blindingly honest.” Just mentioning Waterstone made Tarkyn’s stomach turn over.
“Can you prove that you’re a guardian of the forest?” demanded the belligerent young man.
“I beg your pardon,” said the prince urbanely, “I don’t believe I know your name.”
“I didn’t give it.”
The prince looked around enquiringly. “Is this young man special in some way? Am I mistaken in thinking it is common courtesy for woodfolk to give their name the first time they speak to someone new?”
Falling Branch cleared his throat. “No. That is correct.”
“I see,” said the prince and waited.
As the silence threatened to become awkward, the young man finally rolled his eyes and said grudgingly, “I am Rainstorm.”
As though nothing untoward had passed between them, Tarkyn said mildly, “You would probably know better than I, Rainstorm, what characteristics you would expect in a forest guardian. I presume you have been sent images by the other woodfolk. What further proof do you require?”
The young woodman seemed startled at being taken seriously. He frowned as he thought. “I don’t know. I just want to see it for myself. Hmm, I suppose the legends talk of a mystical being that comes among us” He looked Tarkyn up and down. “Well, your eyes are a bit strange and your hair’s very long and dark, but other than that you don’t look very mystical to me.”
The sorcerer smiled approvingly, “I couldn’t agree more.”
The young man tilted his head to one side as he considered, “You’re supposed to have great magical powers…”
“Yes. Well, I am a sorcerer and a powerful one at that, so I more or less qualify on that front.”
“Well, go on then. Show us,” demanded Rainstorm.
“What would you like to see?”
“I dunno. You’re the sorcerer, not me.”
Tarkyn considered for a moment. “Very well. I will blast a small branch off that elm over there and then transport it over here. Then it will be ready for my next little demonstration.” He looked around, particularly at those with strung bows and asked, “Are we agreed?”
When he had received a general consensus, the sorcerer sent a harsh bronze beam of power against the base of one of the elm’s branches. The branch broke off with a loud crack and fell to the ground. Tarkyn could hear the soft menacing sounds of bows being pulled tighter. “Is everybody all right so far? I don’t want an arrow in the neck because someone is getting too edgy. If I’m going to die, I would rather it were for a better reason than that.” Murmuring, “Liefka,” he gently lifted the branch on a softer beam of bronze and floated it through the air to land just in front of him. He looked at the young woodman. “Anything else?”
Rainstorm had had time to think this time. “Well, go on then. Make it grow.”
The guardian of the forest squatted down and forced a hole in the ground with a sharp stick. Then he placed the damaged end of the elm branch into the hole and closed his eyes. He drew gently on his esse and channelled it into the branch. Beneath his hands, he could feel the sap swell and small leaves twisting up out of the stem and opening up. He opened his eyes and held the branch for a few more moments until it was firmly established. Once he was sure it was secure, he smiled contentedly at his creation and stood up. His smile faded as he remembered where he was.
He sighed and looked once more at the young man. Rainstorm had forgotten him and was staring in amazement at the new little elm.
Sun Shower spoke instead, “Can you show us how you communicate with animals?”
Tarkyn shook his head decisively. “Not directly. I will not ask forest creatures to perform for you. I can share the image of my journey here if you like, but we will all need to sit down.” He paused. “I don’t suppose we could have a short break while you get the fire lit? You’re all looking very cold and I w
ould love a cup of tea if you happen to be making one. I’ve been up all night.” He ran a tired hand through his hair and suddenly found himself up close and personal with six arrows virtually touching him. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” he snapped irritably, “If I were going to hurt you, I could have killed you all when I first arrived. You were all fast asleep and I sat out here for well over an hour before anyone stirred.”
Falling Branch frowned, “Why did you come here? Why didn’t you just stay with the oathbound woodfolk where you were safe?”
“Before I answer that, can we sit down? And do you think you could put away your arrows, just for a little while? Otherwise, I’m going to have to raise my shield. I can’t stand the tension much longer.”
“I thought you didn’t care whether you lived or died,” said Sun Shower.
Tarkyn glanced sideways at her, “It’s one thing to die and quite another to endure the constant expectation of it.”
“What will the shield do to us?” asked Rainstorm with narrowed eyes.
“Nothing. It will simply protect me. But I have been going to some lengths not to frighten you. So I don’t want to start now.”
None of the bowmen relaxed their stance so Tarkyn breathed in resignation and threw up a bronze shield around himself. Immediately, four arrows pinged against the outside of the shield.
“Oh, what a bloody silly lot you are!” exclaimed the prince in extreme annoyance. “I’m beginning to lose patience with you! I come here in good faith, completely unprotected, try to have a sensible discussion and you act like a bunch of hooligans.”
Sun Shower stepped up to the outside of the shield. “We do not want to be tricked into your oath.”
“I don’t blame you, but I give you my word that I don’t want your oath.”
Sun Shower shook her head regretfully, “Unfortunately we do not trust you, so your word is valueless.”
A strong wave of anger hit the surrounding woodfolk, rocking them backwards with its intensity. Several bowmen notched arrows and prepared to fire. Tarkyn was almost certain that his anger would have altered the composition of his shield to make it reflective. He removed his focus from the shield but managed to hold it in place as he muttered, “Shturrum!”
He glared around at the stationary woodfolk. “Why does it always come to this? I have done nothing to you. I intend to do nothing to you. I have had to stop the bowmen because my shield will reflect the arrows back at them now that I am angry. I do not want them to die from their own arrows.” He waited to give his message time to sink in. “Do you understand? Stop shooting at me! … At least until we have finished talking. Then if you still want to kill me, so be it.” He swept his gaze around the angry woodfolk before him. “I will now release you but whatever you do, don’t shoot at my shield. When you lower your weapons, I will lower my shield. Everyone clear?”
The sorcerer released the woodfolk and watched as their eyes went out of focus.
“Fine,” said Tarkyn quietly to himself. “Chat among yourselves. See if you can sort this bloody mess out.”
At last Falling Branch spoke. “Will you agree to have your hands tied while we talk?”
Tarkyn felt sick at the memory of the last time he had had his hands tied. “I will. I won’t like it but I will.”
Falling Branch raised his eyebrows. “You are in no position to dictate terms.”
The sorcerer rolled his eyes. “Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m in every position to dictate terms at the moment. I’m just choosing not to.”
The bowmen released the tension in their bows and Tarkyn lowered his shield and turned around to have his hands tied.
“There is no need for your hands to be tied behind you. That will be uncomfortable. We will simply bind your hands in front of you.”
Tarkyn turned his head to look over his shoulder at the woodman. “Unless you want this to be a complete farce, you will have to tie my hands behind me. I can perform nearly all of my sorcery with my hands in front of me, bound or not.”
Without further discussion, someone tied his hands together firmly using rough hemp. When he was facing Falling Branch again, he asked irritably, “Can we sit down now?”
The woodfolk sat Tarkyn on a low log and sat themselves around him. The prince stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. “So, what do you want? To see how I came here or to find out why?”
“Tell us why,” said Sun Shower. “If you wanted to leave the other woodfolk, why didn’t you just walk away from all of us?”
The prince took a deep breath. “You have no idea how much I want to do just that. But I too am bound by the oath to protect you woodfolk, whether you have taken the oath or not. And if I am indeed the guardian of the forest and the legends are true, you are going to need me. So I can’t just walk away from you.”
There was a surprised silence at these words. Mind messages passed back and forth. Then Falling Branch asked, “But why did you come to us when you knew it was so dangerous?”
“Because I can’t allow woodfolk to be opposing woodfolk for my protection. You will need to be united to face whatever threat lies ahead and I will not allow this cursed oath to destroy your unity. If it means I have to die, then at least I have kept my word to protect you as well as I could.” Tarkyn flexed his shoulders. “If you allow me to live and work by your side as your forest guardian, I may be able to provide even greater protection, but I can’t guarantee it. I don’t know what dangers lie ahead. Anyway, the choice is yours.”
With the unblunted perception of youth, the angry young man asked, not unkindly, “There’s more to it than that, though, isn’t there?”
The prince nodded reluctantly. “Yes.” He moved his wrists trying to ease the pressure of the ropes. “How can I explain it to you? - The woodfolk I know have chosen to protect you from me. They didn’t trust me enough to take the risk that I wouldn’t try to force the oath on you. In the time I have known them, they have never let on that woodfolk existed who had not sworn the oath. So the fact that they are protecting you from me has undermined any relationship I had with them.” Tarkyn looked around at the unsympathetic faces surrounding him. “You probably think that’s a good thing but it’s not from where I’m sitting. And if I can get rid of any need for subterfuge in woodfolk’s dealings with me, then I will.”
Rainstorm considered the prince who was sitting surrounded by enemies, looking remarkably relaxed, if a little awkward, with his hands tied behind him.
“How old are you, prince?” he asked suddenly.
The young woodman found himself being scrutinised in return. Tarkyn’s eyes narrowed as he tried to judge the woodman’s age. “I am nineteen. Maybe slightly older than you?”
Rainstorm reddened at the implied compliment. “I am sixteen, but I will be seventeen soon.” He paused and added self-consciously, “I hope that by the time I am nineteen I have as much courage as you – and less need to use it.”
Tarkyn smiled. “Thank you.” A wave of fellow feeling rolled out from the prince to the youth before he could stop it.
Rainstorm’s eyes widened in surprise then smiled in return.
A rough voice cut across this interchange, “And how did you find us and avoid our lookout? I am Raging Water.”
Tarkyn transferred his gaze to a tough old woodman with gnarled hands and a weathered face. His smile faded and he gave a small sigh, “It would be easier for me to show you. It’s like mind talking but no words. It may affect your balance but it is not a trick. You can block it out at any time, just like mind talking. Agreed? So, is everyone seated? I can’t see who’s behind me.”
“Sun Shower is just bringing you a cup of tea. Wait for a minute,” replied Rainstorm.
“No thanks. Forget the tea. Too hard in my present situation.” There was a slight but definite bitterness in Tarkyn’s voice. He looked at Rainstorm. “Is she ready?”
At a nod from Rainstorm, the sorcerer closed his eyes and took the woodfolk on his journey following the owl across the
moonlit treetops, down behind the lookout and into their clearing. He opened his eyes and waited.
“You lucky bastard!” breathed Rainstorm.
Tarkyn raised his eyebrows and gave a short laugh. “I suppose I am. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
Raging Water stood up and stomped around to stand over the prince. He glowered down at him. “You really are a bloody guardian of the forest, aren’t you?”
Tarkyn shrugged, “So I have been led to believe.” He stared the old woodman straight in the eye. “It’s not my legend and I hadn’t even heard of a forest guardian until a week or two ago. So you must be the judge of it, not I.” He flicked a glance at Rainstorm, “To be perfectly frank, I find it all a bit embarrassing.”
Rainstorm roared with laughter but was quickly quelled by disapproving looks from the older woodfolk.
Raging Water had not moved from his aggressive stance over the prince. “So even if you are a guardian of the forest, there are still a few things we need to sort out before we let you go. Now we have you here bound and helpless, it seems to me that we should be forcing you to release our kin from the oath.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” said the prince, “but would you mind moving back just a little while we discuss it because I’m beginning to get a stiff neck looking up at you.”
“Sorry, young man,” said the old woodman moving back a couple of paces. Then he frowned in confusion at his own compliance and shook his head a little to clear it. He looked severely at the prince and began again, “So, as you are now our prisoner, we demand that you release our kin from their oath.”
Tarkyn put his head on one side as he thought about what to say. “I do not know how to release the sorcery in the oath. If I did, I would have done it as soon as I knew about it. The one person who does know how to release the spell has refused to do so because he fears that I will be killed by the woodfolk if they are released from the oath. If I survive today, I will be in a better position to persuade him.” The prince flexed his shoulders again as they stiffened from being in one position. “However, there is a slight hitch to this.”
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