Tarkyn smiled and shook his head. “Waterstone, even I can think of ways to overcome the problems you’ve raised. If a town dweller like me can do it, I’m sure you can. And before you accuse me of patronising you again, you should stop to consider the truth of what I’m saying.” He paused and his smile broadened. “Come on. Admit it. The real problem is that you’re scared of horses.”
Waterstone stared at him in silence. Then, as Tarkyn watched, a dull red crept over the woodman’s face from the neck upwards. There was a long awkward pause.
Finally the prince said quietly “Sorry, Waterstone. I didn’t mean to be flippant about something you’re sensitive about. I didn’t realise it would matter. There’s nothing wrong with being scared of horses. Lots of people are.” A thought struck him, “But if all woodfolk are scared of horses, then that really will put paid to my plan.”
Waterstone dropped his eyes. He cleared his throat, “Not all woodfolk are scared of horses. There are forest ponies that we come across from time to time.” He raised his eyes. “We don’t use them much, though, because of the tracks. That objection was genuine.”
“I know, my friend. All your objections were genuine. But that doesn’t make them insurmountable.”
Waterstone turned his head to look away into the trees. After a few moments, he returned his gaze to Tarkyn. “I don’t know that I can do it. They are so big and unpredictable.” He sighed. “When I was small, maybe three or four years old, a hunting party came into the forest. We were watching from behind a row of trees. One of the horses broke away from the control of its rider. It lunged between the trees towards us and trampled the bush I was hiding behind. This huge animal towered high above me, its rider fighting for control. Its hoof scored the side of my shoulder as it plunged over me and off into the forest. Neither horse nor rider even noticed me but I will never forget them.” He gave a crooked smile. “I’ve always watched hunting parties from up in the trees since then.”
Tarkyn smiled, “Very wise.” He hesitated, “Waterstone, you don’t have to go near the horses. Others can do that. All who wish to can ride. Everyone else can escape on foot. Only Golden Toad and his family should go on horseback so that you woodfolk are in view of the encampment for as short a time as possible.” The forest guardian considered his friend. “These horses will be under my guidance. They will do whatever we think is necessary to confuse the pursuit. I will back down gladly if you truly believe this to be a bad plan. But I don’t think either of us would want me to back down to pander to your fear.”
“Now that would be patronising. No, I will have to deal with it somehow,” said the woodman firmly. He frowned, “I wasn’t deliberately misleading you with my objections just to protect myself, you know. I didn’t realise my fear was driving my thoughts.”
“Do you really think you need to tell me that?” The prince’s amber eyes twinkled at him, “So now that we have that sorted, the question remains; is my plan workable and worth doing?”
Waterstone sat down on the ground with his back against a solid birch while he thought through his objections and possible solutions. Tarkyn sat down next to him while he waited quietly for the answer.
“Yes, on both counts,” Waterstone conceded finally. “We can easily swap the woodfolk for a load of wood to keep their hoof prints at the same depth. The horses can stop under several trees so that there is no way of telling where the exchange was made. Then they can lead the pursuit far from us before they allow themselves to be caught.” He looked up and grunted, “But get that self-satisfied grin off your face or I’ll think of another objection.”
If anything, Tarkyn’s grin broadened. “I’m so pleased to discover you’re not perfect. It’s made my day!”
Waterstone blinked in surprise. “What? Me? You’re mad. I’m always losing my temper, once so badly that I damaged the forest.”
“True,” smiled Tarkyn.
“And I can’t manage my resentment to the point that I nearly killed you.”
“That wasn’t your fault. My ribs were already broken.”
“Hmph. And I nearly abandoned you when I couldn’t handle the pressure.”
Tarkyn waved all this aside. “But you didn’t. And you are so rock solid. I didn’t think there would be anything that could intimidate you.”
“Well, there is,” said Waterstone shortly. “Anyway, have you looked at yourself lately? Nothing frightens you at all. You walked into that camp of hostile woodfolk and calmly threw yourself on their mercy.”
“I don’t know what made you think I wasn’t frightened. Just because I didn’t fall down in a quivering heap doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared.” He shrugged. “I suppose though, to some extent you’re right.” Tarkyn flicked a quick glance at his friend, “My greatest fears aren’t physical.”
“I know,” said Waterstone quietly.
Tarkyn picked up a stick and set about breaking bits off the end. “Did I mention that I saw Andoran and Sargon at the camp?” he asked casually.
Waterstone frowned. “No. You didn’t happen to mention that significant piece of information and you didn’t include it in your replay of your images.”
“No. I also left out the fact that Danton spent some of yesterday afternoon and most of yesterday evening talking with them.”
“You did, didn’t you?” Waterstone turned his head to look at the prince. “You didn’t consider that our safety might depend on these little snippets, I suppose?”
Tarkyn turned troubled eyes to meet his friend’s gaze. “Stormaway knows. He was there in the background, at least in the afternoon. Danton knows I was watching too.” He gave a slight, reminiscent smile. “I sent the raven to sit on his shoulder. He hates birds. I sent it to reassure him that I trusted him. He thought it was funny at first but shortly afterwards, I could see he seemed shaken.” The prince’s smile faded. “I don’t know if that was because he was worried that I might be doubting him or whether it was because he was feeling guilty.”
“And in the evening?”
“I didn’t have time to watch closely because I was coordinating the rats eating through the horses’ ropes. But I do know Danton left Sargon and Andoran’s tent late in the evening. Stormaway didn’t go with him at all. I hope Stormaway knows what he’s doing.”
“Stormaway is nobody’s fool,” said Waterstone reassuringly, “And to be honest, neither is Danton. If he were going to double cross us, I don’t think it would be in full view of your raven or with Stormaway knowing his movements.”
Tarkyn nodded. “That’s what I think. That’s what I hope. Unless he’s doing a double bluff.”
Waterstone shrugged. “If he is, the damage is already done and he will have told them of your location. We must change your location now, just in case, before we set our plans into motion.”
“You realise, that if any of you are captured, Danton would know you could be held to ransom in exchange for me. He knows I would give myself up to save you.”
Waterstone patted the prince on the knee. “Tarkyn, you might want to, but you couldn’t. Even if those captured were threatened with execution, you couldn’t agree to exchange yourself for them. You would be condemning the rest of the woodfolk to losing their livelihood, their home and their safety. They would all die, but more slowly and painfully.” He smiled, “But if it’s any consolation, I think Danton will have figured that out and would know that you couldn’t give yourself up, whatever your wishes on the subject.”
“This bloody sorcerous oath drives me crazy.”
Waterstone glanced at the prince’s set face. “I hope you remember our conversation about self sacrifice. I’m not sure how much you’ve taken it to heart. Nobody wants you to sacrifice yourself, under any circumstances. Oath or not.”
Tarkyn ran his hands through his long black hair and pulled it over one shoulder. “I think we’d better get going.”
The woodman put a restraining hand on the prince’s arm as he went to rise. “Just a minute. You don’t believe
me, do you?”
Tarkyn glanced at him then looked down at his hair as he fiddled with the ends of it. “Hmm. I’ve been sacrificed before for what might be considered the greater good. The next time, I’d rather do it myself than have it done to me. Anyway, this is different from the last time we talked. I wouldn’t be sacrificing myself because of falling out with you. It would be to save the captured woodfolk and, even more importantly, rid your society of my presence and the oath.” He sighed, “I don’t know that I can face a whole new barrage of resentment with the spread of the oath.” Tarkyn waved a hand impatiently. “But this is a pointless discussion. I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to.”
Waterstone stared at him, concern written on his face. “Do you know,” he said slowly, “for the first time, I begin to be glad of this sorcerous oath? Without it, you would be totally unsafe from yourself. You could talk yourself into sacrificing yourself as a way of protecting us and thereby fulfilling your side of the oath. If the forest’s safety did not hinge on us protecting you, nothing would stop you, would it?”
Tarkyn looked at him long and hard, then turned his eyes away. “No. Nothing would.”
“Is life so hard?”
The young sorcerer sighed. “The uncertainty is hard. Waiting for everything to fall apart is hard. Knowing that I stand in the way of everyone’s contentment is hard. And in the end, knowing that my brothers, whom I have loved and lived with all my life, were willing to lock me up and throw away the key while my own mother watched, is hard. Very hard.”
He flicked a glance at Waterstone, “If the people who have known me all my life can turn on me like that, how can you expect me to believe that the woodfolk, who have only known me a few weeks and who have had me foisted upon them, would have any concern for my welfare beyond the oath? Why would you care if I found a way to sacrifice myself that left the forest intact?”
Waterstone’s face was tight with shock. He took a deep breath, “Tarkyn, I am more sorry than you can imagine to hear you talk like that. I know your faith in your fellow man has been shaken but I did not realise the depth of your unhappiness. The questions you ask me sound rational and yet I cannot provide satisfactory rational answers to them.”
“Because there are none,” said Tarkyn bleakly.
“I may not be able to answer how and why but I can demonstrate that it is so,” continued Waterstone, ignoring Tarkyn’s interjection. “I cannot create years of friendship to justify my care for you. Anyway, it seems longevity of acquaintance by no means guarantees loyalty. I can, however, produce memories that you may scan any time at will, if you are in any doubt.”
Tarkyn shook his head, “No. I would not do that to you again.”
“But you must at least accept my offer as a demonstration of good faith.” He waited until Tarkyn had nodded reluctantly, before continuing. “There are, of course, the things you have done and will do for the woodfolk. Warning us of the wolves, rescuing us from the storm and whatever else you will do in the future as the forest guardian.”
“That may be true until the danger has passed.”
Suddenly Waterstone’s eyes lit with anger. “Yes. But being the ungrateful people that we are, you would then expect us to turn on you, would you?”
Tarkyn glared back at him, “From my experience of the world, yes. Once my usefulness is over, if you were given the choice, then yes, I would expect to be rejected. However, since you and I will have no choice, we will both have to endure my continued tenure in the woods.”
Now Waterstone was fired up, “So I presume you do not value, as I do, your membership of my family?”
This did give Tarkyn pause. He sighed and said gently, “No, don’t presume that. Being part of your family, and the acceptance into the woodfolk that goes with it, is probably the only thing that keeps me afloat when I am drowning in confusion. That, and your friendship.”
Tarkyn’s words took the wind right out of Waterstone’s sails. He shook his head and smiled sadly, “Tarkyn, do you understand how much it signifies that I asked you to join Ancient Oak, Sparrow and me? I did not have you foisted on me by birth as Kosar and Jarand did. Nothing in the oath forced me to take you in. I chose to have you as a brother.” He paused to let his words sink in. “And Tarkyn, I will never choose to let you go.”
Tears sprang into Tarkyn’s eyes. He turned his head away quickly and pulled away, trying to stand up. But Waterstone held him by the arm and used his other hand on Tarkyn’s shoulder to drag him back around to face him.
“Come on, Tarkyn. Stay. Don’t run away.”
Tarkyn faced him unwillingly, his eyes bright with unshed tears, his chest heaving with restrained sobs. Waterstone wrapped his arms around the young sorcerer and held him as the dam of pent up feeling finally spilled over. Eventually Tarkyn quietened and the next time he pulled away, Waterstone let him go.
Tarkyn sat up and looked at the woodman out of red-rimmed eyes and sniffed, “Bloody Danton. I was all right until I saw him having such a great time with Andoran and Sargon. I tried to trust him. I really did. That’s why I let him know I was watching.” He wiped the back of his hand across his face and sniffed again. “I don’t know. Maybe it will be all right. I’ve lost all ability to judge people, if I ever had any.”
Waterstone smiled reassuringly. “Well, I’ve never had any trouble judging people and I think Danton is the genuine article. Saying that, I don’t have much experience of sorcerers but I judged you to be all right.”
“And I don’t know what happened yesterday morning but when you all came back, something had changed that I didn’t understand.” Tarkyn glanced sideways at the woodman. “Whatever it was brought you all closer together. I asked you, but you never told me.”
“And you’ve been worrying about it ever since? Sorry Tarkyn, I wasn’t hiding anything. I simply forgot.” Waterstone looked at him, “You’re tuned like a fine bowstring to the slightest change in people around you, aren’t you?” When Tarkyn nodded, he continued, “Well, you needn’t have worried. Quite the opposite, really. Tree Wind said she thought we’d be all right with you and suddenly everyone knew it was true. All the anxious years of waiting were laid to rest.” He slapped Tarkyn on the back, “I should have told you, shouldn’t I? You’ve achieved the near impossible, allaying everyone’s fears after the way your father treated us.”
Tarkyn smiled, his eyes shining with tears. He couldn’t answer, so merely nodded in response.
“I guess what you picked up was that something important had happened amongst us. But although it was about you, it didn’t include you.”
Tarkyn took a deep breath and managed to regain control of his voice, “Food for the paranoid mind,” he said shakily. He wiped his hands across his eyes and took another breath. “That, on top of Rainstorm’s and your reaction to the spread of the oath and North Wind brushing me off, has all been a bit much. Then Danton consorting with the enemy was the final straw.”
“No wonder you were feeling so bad. You have a lot to contend with at the best of times, without all that lot adding to your woes.” Waterstone grunted, “Don’t worry about North Wind. He’s just a bit confused at the moment. He’ll come around.”
Tarkyn gave him a watery smile, “I’m sorry. Some forest guardian I turn out to be, sitting here blubbing my eyes out when we’re supposed to be mounting a rescue.”
“Plenty of time. It’s nearly sunset. They will be feeding the wolves soon but then we’ll have to wait for the sorcerers to go to sleep. Let’s move location and have some dinner. Then you can tell us what is happening at the encampment.” Waterstone stood up and put out a hand to pull Tarkyn to his feet. “And this time, you might like to keep at least me in the picture about Danton and the other two instead of keeping your fears to yourself. Agreed?”
Tarkyn nodded. “Agreed.” As he turned to walk beside Waterstone, a small private smile played around his mouth. He glanced at the woodman but said nothing.
Waterstone’s eyes narrowed. “Wha
t?”
Tarkyn gave a broad grin, his red-rimmed eyes shining with laughter, “You must actually, really care about me if you could even contemplate being glad about any part of the oath.”
“Of course I do, you big galoot.” Waterstone raised his eyebrows. “You’re not the only one prepared to make sacrifices.” He stopped and put his hands on his hips. “In fact, if Stormaway tells me that he had decided to disarm the oath, I would tell him not to, at least for the time being.”
Tarkyn’s eyes went all watery again. He laughed through the tears. “You know, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Waterstone gave a snort of laughter and clapped him on the back as they turned to continue walking. “You poor old bugger. You’ve had a hard time of it, haven’t you? I keep forgetting you’re so young, too. Too much poise for your own good.”
“Not at the moment.”
Waterstone smiled. “No. Not at the moment. We’ll take the longer path back to the others, shall we?”
53
As soon as Tarkyn and Waterstone entered the clearing where the others were gathered, Rainstorm came bounding up to them full of plans for the evening. He took one look at Tarkyn’s face and frowned, “You all right?”
“Dust and not enough sleep last night,” interjected Waterstone, knowing Tarkyn wouldn’t be able to lie.
“I might go down the stream and freshen up a bit,” suggested Tarkyn.
“Good idea.” Waterstone gave him a pat on the back to send him on his way. “I’ll broach the idea about the horses while you’re away.”
Rainstorm clung to Tarkyn’s side like an eager puppy as he wandered down the path to the stream. Tarkyn glanced down sideways at him but said nothing.
“You’re not all right, are you?” persisted the young woodman.
“I’m better than I was,” replied Tarkyn shortly.
“So, what’s the matter? Nothing I’ve done, I hope… other than make you feel hideous about the oath.” Rainstorm looked up expectantly but, receiving only a slight smile in response, continued huffily, “Fine. Then don’t tell me. None of my business anyway, I suppose.”
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