The Wizard's Curse (Book 2)

by Jenny Ealey

  The woodman laughed, “Tarkyn, how could you say that? No. We’ve just arrived. We knew you needed a private chat so we announced our presence from the start.” He brought Falling Branch to the fore and said, “Falling Branch has almost recovered from the shock although it has taken nearly a full bottle of wine to reconcile him.”

  “And not only that,” continued Ancient Oak, “Falling Branch now has a whole new area of mutual interest to discuss with his son.”

  “Wonderful,” replied Tarkyn, “Glad to be of service. Are you lot going to sit down? Otherwise I’ll have to stand up. I’m developing a stiff neck looking up at you all.”

  As one, they sank down to sit cross-legged in a semi-circle around Tarkyn and Danton.

  “So, Danton,” said Waterstone spuriously, “here comes your big chance to protect your liege’s consequence. What are you proposing?”

  Danton eyed him askance, “I have no intention of advocating on Tarkyn’s behalf, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Disappointing.” It was becoming increasingly clear that Waterstone had been drinking too. “I was looking forward to a feisty display of fireworks between sorcerers and woodfolk.”

  Danton stared coldly at the woodman, “Do not confuse a passionate devotion to service with stupidity. They are not at all the same thing. You, after all, are passionately devoted to the woodfolk and I would never make the mistake of thinking you stupid. I am well aware of the futility of, in fact theharm I would cause by advocating for Tarkyn.”

  “So what will you do to support him?” persistedWaterstone.

  Danton considered carefully before replying, “I will be there as a reminder to Tarkyn that not everyone resents serving him.” He spread his hands disarmingly. “Beyond that, I will do whatever you think will be most helpful.”

  Suddenly Waterstone’s belligerence disappeared and he beamed at the sorcerer, “Danton, I always knew you were a fine fellow. I doubted Falling Branch’s wisdom in suggesting that Tarkyn should come to see you but obviously some of Rainstorm’s acuity comes from his father.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  Danton looked at Tarkyn, “So, it wasn’t your idea to come and talk to me?”

  Tarkyn sent Waterstone a poisonous glance before replying with incurable honesty, “No. But I didn’t have to follow Falling Branch’s suggestion.”

  Everyone held their breath as chagrin warred with amusement on Danton’s face. Finally amusement won and he shook his head smiling, “Tarkyn is right. You really are kind people. For Falling Branch to have even considered what either of us might need at a time like that was quite remarkable.” He took a long draught of wine, then pointed his goblet at Rainstorm, “And you, young Rainstorm: You kept all of us in the dark when you must have been distressed, to protect the welfare of your people – well, as I’ve already said to Tarkyn, I think you’re bloody heroic!” At this point it was borne upon the others that Danton, too, had imbibed a substantial amount of wine.

  Rainstorm blushed while Ancient Oak looked from Waterstone to Danton and said firmly, “We had better get this announcement out of the way before these two become paralytic. Either that or wait another day. We can’t arrive at the mountainfolk’s firesite with this issue unresolved.”

  “For the safety of the children, I would rather we were as far away from the encampment as possible,” said Tarkyn. “So I would prefer to press on,” Then, seeing himself surrounded by quizzical faces, he threw his hands up in surrender. “Right. Fine. You’re used to hiding from soldiers and marauders. Well, as long as you’re sure you can keep Danton and me safe, I will go with your decision.

  In the way of woodfolk, the most competent at the time took over the organisation. So Ancient Oak replied, “I think we should make the announcement tonight and see what everyone thinks. My feeling is that the more time that the mountainfolk have to think about it before we arrive, the less angry they’ll be. So maybe we should mindtell them tonight but leave crossing the grasslands until tomorrow evening. Then they’ll have two full days to think about it.”

  “Agreed. Let’s give everyone a chance to have a couple of hours of peaceful sleep, undisturbed by nightmares of the oath,” said Tarkyn wryly. “Then we’ll gather together before we set off again,”

  Ancient Oak, Rainstorm and Falling Branch went out of focus to relay the message as they all stood up and walked slowly back to the firesite.

  Chapter 15

  Two hours later, Tarkyn steeled himself to stand up and address the gathered woodfolk, “Good evening all. I will keep this short so that there is plenty of time for discussion. About a week ago, when Rainstorm had his run-in with Danton, I noticed when he turned on me that the trees were suddenly blown about. Not long after this, Rainstorm again attacked me briefly after I had shared my suspicions with him, and this time there was no doubt that the forest was in danger. Consequently, I believe that the forestalls, and possibly all woodfolk, have become subject to the oath.”

  Tarkyn forced himself to send his gaze slowly around the circle of faces. Some were aghast as Waterstone had been. Some eyes had narrowed in suspicion. A few woodfolk were exchanging suppressed smiles. Several were simply stunned and the remainder were clearly angry. He added with a convincing semblance of calm, “I’m assuming you know me well enough to know that I did not engineer this. Feel free to mindtalk for a few minutes. You can discuss your reactions and plans with me when you have had a chance to talk among yourselves. I will be back shortly.”

  Tarkyn left the intense silence of mindtalking behind him and walked off into the trees. Once out of sight, he let out a long breath of pent up tension and stood with his back leant against a large beech. He tilted his head back and gazed up into the interwoven canopy of the tree. The evening had drawn in and the last of the small, almost circular leaves and the fine branches of the tree were black silhouettes against the darkening sky. A slight rustle to one side drew his attention to a tawny owl staring down at him. He wondered whether this was the same owl he had seen on the night Tree Wind had shown him her memories. After a moment, he decided it couldn’t be because they were far from that area at the moment. As he watched, the owl ruffled her feathers and turned her head to stare directly into his eyes. Gradually, the concerns of mankind faded and Tarkyn found himself submerged in the owl’s understanding of the forest. He knew where every mouse hole and rabbit warren was and where this grove of beeches gave way to oaks and ashes. He was aware of the slash through the forest that was the Great West Road now miles to the north. To the south, he knew where the woodlands dissipated into grasslands and he saw, with a frisson of shock, the rooftops of farmhouses nestled in valleys between these woodlands and the foothills of the mountains.

  He wasn’t flying over the forest as he had before in a bird’s mind. This time, as the owl’s mind panned further and further out in a radius around him, he felt himself to be a smaller and smaller part of a great entity and yet, despite this, still having a rightful place in the grand scheme of the forest’s life. Slowly the owl brought him back to an awareness of himself standing under the beech looking up into her eyes. Then she blinked and looked away, ruffling her feathers, leaving him filled with the peace and strength of the great forest.

  For a few minutes, he just stood there breathing deeply, thinking about the forest that he was now a part of. His care for the woodland had become rooted deeply within himself, well beyond the requirements of the oath he had made to protect it. His own life felt entwined within the forest’s life and all that lived within it. He knew that if the forest died, so would he.

  With an increased sense of resolve, Tarkyn took a deep breath, pushed himself away from the tree and walked back to join the circle of woodfolk. When he arrived, all eyes turned to look at him. He sat down quietly on a log, his elbows resting on his knees. As his long black hair fell forward to partially cover his face, he pulled it back so that it hung down his back.

  He waited for someone to speak but when no one
did, he grimaced slightly and said, “I don’t think you need to tell me your reactions. I know you are unhappy about your kindred having to accept me as their liege. I also suspect that in some ways it is a relief for you no longer to have the social stigma of being oathbound when others are not.”

  The woodfolk could feel something was different about Tarkyn but could not discern what it was. He sat up and put his hands on his knees. “We already know that other woodfolk will be angry and resentful when they find out that they are bound by the oath.” Tarkyn looked around him and his gaze was less apologetic than it might have been before his encounter with the owl. “So, since all of those reactions are entirely predictable, we need not concern ourselves with them.” When few people frowned, he waved a hand and said, “I’m sorry. That sounded dismissive. I do not for a moment underestimate the strength of your feelings but I think they are largely unavoidable. And I think you will all agree that our greatest single concern is the welfare of the forest. Our lives and our livelihood depend upon it. The woodlands are a part of us and we are a part of them.”

  Now the woodfolk really sat up and took notice. Tarkyn had never identified himself so closely with the forest and the woodfolk’s connection with it before.

  “Although I come from outside, I am also a woodman. I, as much as you, have a rightful place in the unfolding life of the woodlands. And that place, whatever you may feel about it, is as your forest guardian and liege lord. I have given you my strength, my courage and even offered you my life in making your cause my own.” He gave an apologetic smile, “I do not say this in the hope of further gratitude. You have already given me more thanks than I ever expected. I say this in the hope that you may consider that the oath that binds us together is not all bad. There are some advantages to having me as your liege lord.” He paused, “For my own part, I feel privileged to have been given the opportunity of getting to know you all and becoming one of you. Without the oath, that would never have happened.” He waved his hand, “I am not for a moment suggesting that I approve of the way in which the oath was imposed or of the sting in its tail. I am simply acknowledging that there are some virtues attached to it for all of us.”

  “That’s all very well,” objected Creaking Bough, “but that’s easier for you to say. You don’t have to serve us. It is only we who must serve you.”

  “There are different types of service. I have obligations to you just as you have obligations to me. I would like to think that the power and dedication that I bring to protecting you and supporting your cause have some value in that equation.”

  And suddenly, like a tiny candle flame struggling to stay alight in the wind, a glimmer of true acceptance flickered around the faces of the woodfolk.

  “I remember saying that your part of the oath committed you even more than it did us. There are obligations in both directions, aren’t there?” asked Autumn Leaves.

  Tarkyn nodded. “Yes, of course there are.” He paused, “And I would almost go so far as to say that my obligations under the oath are far greater than yours. I have an obligation to hundreds of you while you share your obligations to one person among many. So much so, that many woodfolk have never done anything for me at all. We all know that, in the main, it is the people gathered here who have supported me in order to fulfill the woodfolk’s oath.”

  Autumn Leaves’ eyes narrowed while he thought about it. “But you could insist that one or a few particular people devote their entire lives to you, couldn’t you? Then it would be unbalanced.”

  “Yes. I could insist on a great deal more than I am receiving from you at the moment. I could insist that all woodfolk devoted their lives to me. But, as you know, I have never demanded that level of service from you.” Tarkyn leant down and picked up a small stick and began to break bits of the end of it as he talked. “After all, Stormaway made sure that I could be trusted before he allowed the oath to be invoked, didn’t he?”

  “But that is the difficulty for us with the oath,” said Autumn Leaves. “The balance of the equation is entirely dependent upon your discretion, not ours.”

  Tarkyn smiled ruefully as he looked around the gathered woodfolk. “Yes, that is true. And from time to time, I know I take control and fail to consult you as we agreed. And I know that above all, woodfolk value and expect equality in their dealings with each other.” Tarkyn spread his hands disarmingly. “What can I say? I am what I am, a prince of the realm. I try my best, well beyond the limits of my upbringing, to negotiate decisions and to allow a freedom of behaviour around me far greater than any I have ever experienced before. But while I may have mitigated my expectations of your role in fulfilling the oath, I have not mitigated my expectations of myself and I intend to give you full measure as your liege.”

  “And so now the balance swings the other way,” stated Autumn Leaves.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Within the freedom I have offered you, you have that choice. Many woodfolk will accept the protection I offer, but will avoid their obligations. Even among those of you who have stayed to pay the price on behalf of your kin, your enthusiasm for fulfilling the oath is underwhelming.” Tarkyn held up a hand to stall the impending protests he could see in a few faces. “It is understandable. As your liege, I have a role I was bred to. As my liegemen and women, you find yourselves in a role that you find distasteful and alien to your culture. And, as you so rightly point out, I have the upper hand.” A small smile curved his mouth. “But you have given me something far more valuable than the requirements of the oath. You have given me true friendship and acceptance… and for me, these are beyond price.” He took a long breath and let it out slowly. “And I think, Ihope, that for your part, you are not too unhappy with the way we work together.”

  As Tarkyn hesitated, trying to formulate what to say next, Rainstorm stood up and, throwing a defiant glance around the ring of faces, said firmly, “Prince, I’m not unhappy with it. I will support you and stand by you when you have to face the next wave of resentment.” The rebellious young woodman folded his arms across his chest, “And if I can handle the authority given to you by the oath, anyone can.”

  North Wind stood up opposite Rainstorm and added his support, “And I think having you with us, both as protector and friend, outweighs the discomfort of oath.”

  Watertstone glanced at the two young woodmen standing defiantly before their kin and rose to his feet, saying with a wry smile, “I hate the oath and always will. But Tarkyn, I wouldn’t lose you for the world.”

  “If you can win me over, you can win anyone over.” Tree Wind smiled as she stood to join the others. “We will ride any storm that faces us together.”

  Autumn Leaves lumbered to his feet, “And you have put up with us getting angry with you, which I suspect,” he said, looking at Danton for confirmation, “is something you’re not used to.”

  Danton shook his head, “Not at all.”

  “And,” continued Autumn Leaves, “you haven’t yet burnt me to a crisp and you have even gone so far as to rescue me. So I think we have a fair deal.”

  As each of these people spoke, others in the background were nodding agreement. Then Falling Branch stood up and everyone waited with baited breath for him to speak, knowing he had only just found out that he was subject to the oath, “Among the people gathered here, only Rainstorm and I witnessed the lengths to which you went to placate the forestals and to ensure that the woodfolk were not divided by the oath. I may not like this oath but I have every respect for you and will give you my support.”

  As Ancient Oak stood up, the remaining woodfolk also stood, “For my part, I am proud to have you in our family.” He paused, “And so, little brother, I think you are right. Our virtues and yours have overcome the evil in the oath with only minor disruptions to the woodfolk ways. We can live with the oath… and with you,” he added with a quirky grin. He looked around him, “And we are all prepared to support you when we face the mountainfolk.”

  Then slowly, all eyes turned to look at Danto
n, still seated far from the prince. Danton stood up, let his eyes travel around the ring of woodfolk and then returned his gaze to Tarkyn. With a gentle smile, he bowed, “I also will support your cause, my liege.”

  Waterstone noted with approval that Danton didn’t point out that he had been supporting the prince’s cause for much longer than any of the woodfolk.

  Tarkyn rose slowly to his feet, rising from looking up at them all, to surveying them from a greater height. His eyes were bright with emotion. “Thank you, my friends,” he said gravely. “I am truly grateful that I don’t have to face this alone.”

  Waterstone came over and clapped Tarkyn on the back as he addressed the group. “Right everyone. So let’s see if we can find a way to reconcile the mountainfolk so that they don’t endanger the forest. We’ll have to think carefully about how we will phrase it when we mindtalk to them about the oath, for their sakes and for all our sakes.”

  “We will,” agreed Thunder Storm. He addressed the prince, “Do you mind us mindtalking to confer? We’ll get back to you.”

  Tarkyn waved a hand to indicate acquiescence. As the woodfolk converged, he looked across to Danton, standing discreetly on the other side of the firesite and smiled. Then he pointed at Danton and indicated that he should come over to join him. He mimed drinking and pointed to the large pot of boiling water that was hanging over the fire. Danton’s face relaxed into a smile as he stood up and walked around the outside of the ring of quiet, conferring woodfolk. He detoured to make two steaming cups of tea as requested.

  “Thanks,” said Tarkyn quietly, as he blew on his tea to cool it. “I thought we had better not drink too much until we know whether we’re leaving tonight or tomorrow.” He frowned, “I already have some doubts about your ability to travel.”

  “Fear not,” replied Danton, waving his cup around. “I’m as fit as a fiddle.”

  “I wasn’t concerned about your fitness. It’s your ability to move quietly that concerns me,” said Tarkyn, suppressing a smile.