There was a shared moment of understanding. Although it was a small statement, it spoke volumes as years of trepidation and apprehension were put to rest.
As the moment passed, she brought her gaze to bear on Rainstorm and North Wind and said briskly, “And so, you two, it is not a trivial task that you have been assigned. We have an oath to fulfil, and protecting the guardian of the forest ensures that we will have his help in the future against an enemy that we would struggle to deal with on our own.”
After an infinitesimal hesitation, Rainstorm blustered, “I’m under no oath to protect him,” he shrugged, “but I will, to help North Wind.”
“Big of you,” said North Wind, rolling his eyes artistically.
Watching their indifferent acting skills, Waterstone decided that a diversion was needed urgently. “So, now that we have settled that, let’s return to the job in hand. How far do you think it is from the tree line to the guards?”
Lapping Water’s eyes narrowed as she estimated it. “We will have to shoot about one hundred feet. That’s quite a distance for the degree of accuracy we’ll need. Maybe we should use blunted arrows instead of slingshots. Then we won’t kill them.”
“No, but we’d still have to find time to retrieve the arrows.” Waterstone thought about it. “I suppose you marksmen could retrieve the arrows while the rest of us are carrying out the rescue. It does slightly increase the risk of being seen, though.”
“Let’s practise with slingshots and see how we go,” suggested Lapping Water. “We can decide after that.”
Tarkyn was squatting down playing marbles with Sparrow and the three boys when the woodfolk returned to the campsite. As soon as he saw them, Tarkyn could feel that something had changed. There was a sense of released tension in the air. He cocked an enquiring eyebrow at Waterstone but only received a faint shake of the head in return. Giving a mental shrug, Tarkyn returned his attention to the marbles just as quiet little Rain on Water flicked a cracking marble into his and shot it off out of the ring.
The little boy glanced shyly up at Tarkyn and smiled, “You’ve lost all your marbles now.” He hesitated, “You can borrow some of mine, if you like.”
“No he can’t,” protested Sparrow hotly. “That wouldn’t be fair. Tarkyn’s out and that’s all there is to it.”
“I’m afraid she’s right. But thank you for your offer.” Tarkyn gave Rain on Water a friendly nudge before he stood up. “Just do me a favour and get Sparrow out next. Since I’m out, I’ll leave you lot to it for the time being.”
Tarkyn walked over to join the newly returned woodfolk by the fire and accepted a bowl of porridge from Thunder Storm. As he ate, his eyes roved from one to the other trying to work out what was different. Everyone seemed friendly but more relaxed and self-assured. He noticed that there were no longer any splits between the groups and although this was what he had worked towards, he feared that, in some way, in becoming unified, they had closed ranks against him. Since Waterstone had not responded to his earlier query he did not ask again, but determined to mention it later when there was no audience.
Eventually he put his thoughts to one side and asked Tree Wind, “Did you like your trip around the camp with the raven?”
“Yes thank you, Your Highness,” Tree Wind replied tartly. “Once I had saved myself from falling out of the tree. I can see I will have to become used to your levity.”
Tarkyn took a quick look around to check who was listening, then rolled his eyes. “I hope you’re not like Summer Rain.”
Tree Wind frowned. “I beg your pardon? What’s that supposed to mean?
“No sense of humour,” replied Tarkyn dolefully.
Tree Wind gave a short laugh. “Stop it. Summer Rain is a very skilled healer. She is a very serious person.”
“Well, I hope I don’t lose my sense of humour as I become more skilful at healing,” replied Tarkyn with a twinkle in his eyes.
“I think you have such an overabundance of it, that a bit less wouldn’t be noticed.”
“You have eased my fears,” said Tarkyn. “You wouldn’t have noticed that I had a sense of humour if you hadn’t one yourself. Now Summer Rain, you see, just thinks I make odd remarks.”
“Hmm. I suspect she thinks we all make odd remarks from time to time.” Tree Wind smiled, “Now, these two young men have kindly volunteered to remain here as your protectors. So has Running Feet.”
“Thank you, Running Feet,” said Tarkyn gravely before turning a quizzical smile on Rainstorm and North Wind. “Bad luck, you two. Drew the short straws, did you?”
Rainstorm eyed him belligerently for a moment, clearly deciding whether to admit their reluctance or whether to act hurt. In the end, he gave a crooked smile, “As it turns out, this is not actually our first choice but seeing how useful your raven proved to be, I can see the value in protecting you.”
“Thanks,” said Tarkyn dryly. “I’m glad you find me useful. Very heart warming.”
Rainstorm almost but not quite stamped his foot. “I am trying to find a way to see protecting you as a contribution to the rescue.”
Tarkyn smiled understandingly, “It’s a pain isn’t it? Not being allowed in the front line. I know just how you feel. If it makes you feel any better, I can assure you that I will be making a significant contribution from the back blocks here. And I will need people guarding my back whilst I concentrate.” Tarkyn scraped out the last of his porridge and set aside his bowl before adding, “And to tell you the truth, it will be good to have your company. With Thunder Storm and Running Feet, we should be a cheery little crew.” He paused as he thought for a moment. “That’s not many woodfolk to protect four kids and me. Are you sure your skills are up to it?”
“Of course they are,” retorted Rainstorm hotly.
“North Wind, you’re not saying much. What do you think?”
“If you really want to know, Your Highness, I think we would be hard pressed if we really came under attack.”
“I think you’re absolutely right. So you will have to be super vigilant because our only hope will be to have enough warning to avoid an attack, won’t it?” Tarkyn frowned at Rainstorm. “How did your concentration go the other night when you guarded me against Danton?”
Tree Wind watched in grudging admiration as Tarkyn took the boys seriously and melted their resistance like sun on snow.
Rainstorm considered carefully before replying, “It was difficult at times. We might be better to give each other breaks from time to time. We could alternate guarding with minding the kids.”
“Good idea. More fun and less boring, too. Still, it won’t be for all that long. Only three or four hours, I would think. So that won’t be as bad as a whole night on guard, will it?”
Rainstorm grinned, “Nothing like it. The other night was the longest night of my entire life.”
“And once the kids are asleep, I can share the images with whoever is not on lookout so they know what is happening at the encampment.”
“Sounds a good deal to me,” said Waterstone. “Come on you two. Help me set up targets for slingshot practice. Then we can see what you’re really made of.”
47
Stormaway and Danton lay hidden behind a hedge of hawthorns close to the track leading to the encampment. They were both dressed in worn travellers’ clothing. Danton was seriously unimpressed with the cut of his jacket, but had wisely decided not to comment. Stormaway had a glamour in place that made him look old and unkempt, with his features altered sufficiently to make him unrecognisable.
Every now and then a dispirited group of weary shaken travellers passed close by, flanked by armed men. The travellers did not seem to be prisoners. In fact, the armed guards were friendly, chatty and even solicitous.
“This is very strange,” whispered Stormaway. “I don’t understand it at all.”
“Perhaps the armed guards are escorts to protect the travellers on their journey.”
The wizard shook his head. “I don’t th
ink so. We are too far from the road… Why are they coming here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we’ll find out more once we’re inside.”
“Maybe.” Stormaway glanced at the sorcerer. “Are you ready? We’ll fall in behind the next large group.”
The sun was high in the sky by the time the next large group filed past them. Danton watched the armed men, looking for a moment when their eyes were elsewhere.
“Now!” he breathed.
They stood up and walked casually onto the road behind the group to join the stragglers. An old woman’s eyes widened briefly as she suddenly found herself no longer at the rear. But life had been hard and she wasn’t really interested in anything other than reaching camp and getting some food and rest. So she gave a faint shrug and kept putting one foot in front of the other.
Stormaway and Danton matched their pace and posture to those around them, hunching their shoulders and treading slowly and heavily. They didn’t speak because they had nothing safe to say. Forty minutes later, they were approaching the encampment. Strangely, the guards at the entrance paid very little heed to anyone.
Danton frowned and whispered, “This lot wouldn’t last long at the palace. Why do they even bother having guards if they don’t even make a cursory check on people coming in?”
A chilling thought struck Stormaway. “Maybe they are more careful about people going out?”
The two men looked at each other. “There is no one going out,” whispered Danton.
As they watched, they realised this wasn’t strictly true. From time to time a small group of armed soldiers would leave, heading back down the path to the main road through the forest.
The wizard and the sorcerer found themselves ushered to a place around a campfire. Helpful guards provided them with food and drink. When they were sated, soldiers showed them to a large tent where they could bed down in a corner when they were ready. Beyond that, they were left to their own devices.
“Do you know any of these people?” asked Danton.
The wizard shook his head. “Not so far. But I have a wide network. There must be someone here I know.”
Danton frowned. “I think I may have seen one or two of the soldiers before, but I don’t know them personally. I could have seen them anywhere.”
“Let’s start moving around,” suggested Stormaway. “We have to find out the feeding arrangement for the wolves. We only have tonight. Tomorrow we must get it right.”
“It’s a short timeline,” said Danton, bowing slightly to an officer as they sauntered past. “I would have preferred more time but the woodfolk are anxious about their friends and I suppose the danger of discovery increases the longer we stay here.”
Stormaway shrugged. “We are in no danger of discovery. We both have every right to be travelling wherever we please.”
“It would help if we knew why it might be that we have come to the encampment.”
The wizard looked thoughtful. “True. Let’s find the stake, the woodfolk tent and the wolves first. Once we have done our planning, we can settle ourselves in around a campfire and listen to a few conversations.”
They wandered around the inside of the perimeter of the encampment, trying to work out which tent housed the woodfolk. It took them twenty minutes to circumnavigate it. Thanks to Tarkyn’s complete and utter lack of directional sense, they had no real idea where the tent was. However, they guessed that it might be on the east because they knew Running Feet’s vision would have led Tarkyn’s mind from that direction.
The wolves and horses were a lot easier to find. The wolves were unhappy with their lot and several of them paced restlessly up and down the few feet of travel their chains would allow them. When Stormaway and Danton approached them they snarled and howled, dragging at their chains in an effort to attack. Several people looked over to see what was causing the disturbance. Although the horses were roped well away on the other side of the camp, the wolves’ snarling caused several horses to whinny, tossing their heads and rolling their eyes in fear.
“We’ll give those wolves a wide berth then,” said Danton firmly. He added quietly, “I wonder if they can smell woodfolk on us?”
“Possibly,” mused the wizard. “Anyway, we don’t need to get near them. We just need to find their food source.”
Suddenly they found their way blocked by a sturdy, armed guard. He was dressed in a cobbled together uniform that was a mixture taken from several regiments. He wore no helmet and his bald head shone in the afternoon sun. What was left of his hair was grey and shoulder length. He glared at them from under dark, bushy eyebrows and demanded, “What do you two think you’re playing at, getting so close to those wolves? They’re dangerous, you know. Look at that! You’ve disturbed the horses.” He leant forward and peered closely at them, “Have I seen you before? You don’t look familiar.”
Danton’s heart was thumping in his chest but he replied with a semblance of calm, spiced with just a dash of uncertainty, “I beg your pardon, sir, if we have upset anyone. We have only just arrived and were simply having a look around.”
The guard straightened up in response to Danton’s well-bred accent. “That explains it then, my lord.” He gave a kindly smile, “Took your finery, did they? You must be feeling a little shaken up still. Don’t worry. We’re a friendly enough bunch here. You’ll soon get to know us all. My name’s Torgan.” He looked Danton up and down, to which Danton took silent exception. Sergeant Torgan smiled disarmingly. “You seem to be in pretty good shape, sir. You might be ready to join a regiment quite soon.” He glanced at Stormaway. “Your friend here could take a bit longer.” He frowned, “Perhaps he has other skills we can use instead. He doesn’t look like much of a fighter.”
Stormaway managed to cower down and appear even more pathetic than before, “I am a tailor, sir,” he whined, “Though my eyesight is not as good as it used to be. But I can still sew if someone else threads the needle.”
The guard gave him a hearty, condescending pat on the back, “Good on you, old man. I’m sure there’ll be plenty for you to do.” He tipped his fingers to his forehead in a friendly salute, “I’d better go. I expect I’ll see you around.”
As soon as he was out of earshot, Danton turned to Stormaway incredulously. “Tailor? Where did that come from?”
The wizard shrugged and gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “I don’t know why it is, but people never think of a tailor as a threat. It’s a very useful disguise.”
“And can you sew?” demanded Danton.
Stormaway snorted, “Of course I can. I don’t do things by halves, you know. I’ve been in this game for many long years.”
“Well, if you’ve been in this game for so long, what do you make of all this?”
The wizard looked around and shook his head. “I don’t know for sure, but I would say they are recruiting people for something.”
Danton’s eyes widened, “Not for hunting woodfolk, I hope.”
“I don’t know. Could be. Could be for something else. We’ll keep our eyes and ears open and see what we can find out.”
Not surprisingly, Stormaway and Danton eventually located the imprisoned woodfolk’s tent quite close to the wolves. There was no other tent with a chain issuing under the side panel attached to a metal stake in the ground. A large black crow was perched on the top of the tent pole. It flew off as they approached and settled further away on an overhanging branch.
Once they had identified the tent they wandered around the vicinity, looking casually for guards or magical wards. Stormaway looked around surreptitiously and muttered under his breath, “Wards, Rayavalka!” and thrust three fingers outwards.
Immediately, pale splashes of green flickered in a dozen different places across the encampment. One of them flickered across the entrance to the woodfolk’s tent, but there were none around the sides.
Moments later, Stormaway snapped his fingers back into his palm and the green lights flicked out.
“Mmm. Interest
ing,” said Stormaway. “A ward to stop people going in by mistake, or out of idle curiosity, but no real expectation of a rescue attempt.”
Danton shrugged. “I can only imagine they have underestimated the woodfolk. Maybe Golden Toad and his family are playing dumb. Whoever has them trapped might think of them as wild animals if they don’t speak – and wild animals wouldn’t rescue their kin.”
Stormaway frowned in disapproval. “Woodfolk are nothing like wild animals. Mind you, without Tarkyn’s help they wouldn’t have known Golden Toad and his family were even missing, let alone where they were.” Stormaway looked towards the nearest perimeter. “Okay. Let’s see how many guards there are, and where.”
They scanned the perimeter nearest the woodfolk’s tent.
“Six that I can see,” reported Danton.
“I wonder when they change the guard?”
“It’s usually every four hours,” replied the ex-palace guardsman. “We’ll need the woodfolk to strike soon after the change so that they can be well away before the next watch discovers the unconscious guards.”
A small huddle of travellers wandered past them, obviously reconnoitring their new surroundings. As Danton sauntered over to them to strike up a conversation, they bowed in response to his unconscious air of command. He frowned and threw a wry glance at Stormaway before nodding his head in acknowledgement. He offered a few desultory remarks and when they were more at ease, asked, “New here too, are you?” He nodded at the woodfolk’s tent. “What do you suppose is in there with that chain going under the wall like that?”
A young girl curtsied and answered with wide-eyed nervousness, “Sir, I believe there is an injured wolf in there, sir.” She curtsied again, her chestnut hair falling down over her shoulder.
Danton smiled disarmingly, “Really? I’m glad I asked. I wouldn’t want to go in there by mistake and get myself mauled.”
“No sir, you wouldn’t,” said a tall gangly youth, clearly her brother and clearly anxious to get a word in with this lordly acquaintance. “Only the wolves’ keeper goes in there, we understand.” He hesitated, “Will you be taking over one of the regiments, sir?”
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