by Jenny Ealey
On one side of Tarkyn, Waterstone was looking a little sick. On the other, Rainstorm looked even sicker. Danton stood impassively beside his liege, having always understood the reality of this edict.
“What right have you to impose punishment?” demanded Dripping Rock hotly. “You have just refused us. We are not under your oath.”
“Whether you are subject to the oath or not, you are still subject to the laws of the land as I, in the forest, choose to enforce them.”
“And what aboutyour oath?” Dripping Rock persisted.
Tarkyn shrugged and said disdainfully, “I would hardly be protecting woodfolk if I allowed vermin like that to continue to pollute your firesite.”
“Howdare you impose your judgement on our kin?” raged the old mountainman.
The eagle at Tarkyn’s feet turned its glare on Dripping Rock, stalked a few threatening steps in his direction and flapped its wings. The mountainman shuffled quickly back out of range.
Tarkyn drew himself up against protesting bruising. “I dare because I am a Prince of Eskuzor and Guardian of your Forest. I dare because everything I have seen of woodfolk until now leads me to believe that woodfolk do not condone such cruel, undisciplined behaviour. And I dare because if you lose me, your guardian of the forest, you may lose everything you hold dear.” He turned his gaze to Dry Berry, “Last time we met, you described me as a dangerous young man. You were right. I am dangerous and you have crossed me at your cost.”
Dry Berry drew breath, “Tarkyn, we made a mistake, a bad mistake. I did not realise how deeply the resentment ran among some people. I should have remembered that most people here haven’t met you before. It does make a difference to one’s attitude, you know.”
Tarkyn stared at her for a moment, appearing to consider her words. In actual fact, he was wondering how much longer he could stand up. He drew a painful breath, “I presume I have your undertaking that you will not mount another attack on me?”
Dry Berry and Dripping Rock nodded. “Of course, Your Highness,” averred Dripping Rock. “We would not dream of trying to outface the lords of the air.”
Tarkyn let his gaze rove around the other mountainfolk, “And you?”
There were hurried nods, several people throwing covert glances at the dead woodmen still lying on the other side of the firesite.
Tarkyn nodded over at the corpses and said casually, “You might like to remove those bodies before your food is cooked.”
He turned his attention to the gathered birds of prey and sent them feelings of gratitude and release. In response, the huge birds launched themselves off the ground and from his shoulder, flapping their enormous wings ponderously as they rose. For a moment, Tarkyn was completely obscured by the tawny greys, blacks and browns of the great birds of prey and the distinctive gold and black of the mountain eagle. Then they glided low over the clearing, forcing woodfolk to duck before resettling themselves in overhanging branches around the clearing rather than flying away.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise, reopening a cut as he did so, “I see they do not yet feel ready to trust you with my safety. It is a grim day when the forest turns against woodfolk.” He looked for his own woodfolk in the faces before him, “Autumn Leaves, is there a stream nearby? Could you come with us please? I need to clean up.” As they moved forward, Tarkyn added, “Thunder Storm and Creaking Bough, would you please retrieve our children if the mountainfolk will be so good as to release them?”
Another angry muttering rose among his woodfolk.
Dry Berry held up her hand, “That is not quite fair. The children are playing together quite happily. We have merely ensured they were kept away while we…while we…” Her voice trailed away into an embarrassed silence.
“But without asking any of us,” rumbled Thunder Storm, more forcefully than Tarkyn had ever seen him. “We want them back with us immediately.”
“I will take you to them,” said a woodwoman with a strangely echoey voice, “My name is Cavern.”
“And make sure you have cleared away your two henchmen before we get back,” rumbled Thunder Storm peremptorily.
It occurred to Tarkyn that the status of the home guard had just risen with his refusal to accept the oath of the Mountainfolk. Tarkyn ran his hand through his hair and grimaced when he brought it back down, again sticky with blood.
“I think you had better come with us too, Summer Rain, if you don’t mind,” he said calmly as he turned to follow Autumn Leaves out of the clearing and towards the nearby stream.
Chapter 20
As soon as they were out of sight of the mountainfolk, Tarkyn asked tightly, “Any lookouts?”
“Not in sight of here,” reported Autumn Leaves after a quick scan of the surrounding trees.
“Good,” Tarkyn stopped in his tracks. “Waterstone, Danton, your shoulders, if you will.”
As Tarkyn allowed himself to sag onto their shoulders, they realised with shock that his whole body was trembling and he was struggling to support his own weight. It was borne upon them the degree of determination that it had taken for him to stand upright for so long.
“Oh Tarkyn, you poor bugger,” said Waterstone sympathetically, “Do you want to rest or get down to the stream?”
“How far is it?”
“Not far. Another forty yards or so. It’s just around the bend in the path, past those mountain ashes,” replied Waterstone calmly, although his chest felt tight with concern.
“Right then. Let’s get there quickly before you both collapse under my weight.”
Danton and Waterstone virtually carried Tarkyn the rest of the way to the stream. When they reached the bank of the stream, they lowered him carefully down onto the ground with his back up against a mossy boulder. Beside him, the water tumbled down a steep gully over great boulders, gathering in small deep pools in the shadows of the rocks.
Very little was said over the next ten minutes while Summer Rain removed Tarkyn’s shirt and attended to the gashes and bruises that covered his upper body and face, but there were some narrowed eyes and thinned lips among his onlookers. Rainstorm placed a cup under the falling water and brought it to Tarkyn but his hands were shaking so badly that Rainstorm had to hold it for him while he drank.
Tarkyn lay with his eyes closed while Summer Rain did what she could. When she had finished, she said, “There. That’s the best I can do for now. Your wounds have all been cleaned and there are healing and disinfecting herbs on all your abrasions. The bleeding has stopped. Nothing is broken but you will be very sore for the next few days unless you heal yourself.”
Tarkyn opened his eyes and gave a careful smile, wincing as the movement of his mouth pulled on his cut lip, “Thanks. I will, in time. I couldn’t concentrate on healing myself while I was still in danger. And I have just tried again but I’m too churned up at the moment. I can’t stop thinking about the attack long enough to gather my forces. Maybe later tonight, after we have eaten and settled down: I may be able to concentrate then.”
Waterstone squatted down next to him and asked, “So, how did you get yourself into the situation with your hands tied behind your back? Did you allow them to do it as you did with the forestals?”
“No, my friend. I was not planning any heroics this time. They grabbed me just as I noticed that you people had been drugged. I think Dry Berry kept me talking to her so that I wouldn’t notice you getting drowsy until it was too late.” He couldn’t disguise the note of bitterness that had entered his voice. He ran a hand dispiritedly through his hair and once more it came away sticky. He looked at it in disgust. “Hmm, I can’t be having that. Any of these pools big enough to bathe in?”
“You’ll die of shock if you go into one of those pools, prince,” said Rainstorm firmly. “That water is melted ice.”
Despite his cut lip, Tarkyn achieved an evil grin, “I’m sure we’ll manage, Rainstorm.”
Rainstorm rolled his eyes. “Someone tell him. It’s way too cold.”
“I do
n’t know,” replied Summer Rain thoughtfully, “Now he’s over the shock, it may be helpful. Reduce bruising and stimulate his circulation.”
Everyone stared incredulously at the healer, thinking that at last she had cracked a joke. But then they realised she was calmly serious. All heads looked back to Rainstorm.
“Probably be good for you too, Rainstorm,” said Danton with a perfectly straight face.
Tarkyn was smiling. “Come on, Rainstorm. Help me over to one of those dark, inviting pools. I can’t go around with hair matted with blood. It will start to stink soon, if nothing else. You’ll love it once you’re in.”
It took more than Rainstorm’s effort to get Tarkyn up and over the slippery wet rocks and into a dark pool. The pool looked bottomless, but as it turned out, the water was only slightly over waist height.
As Tarkyn was assisted to lower himself into the water, he drew in a long sharp breath. “Whoa, this is so cold it hurts! I don’t know which is worse; getting beaten up or this.” As they let him go, he drew in a breath and dropped under the water. A second later, he came up gasping, “Oh no. Definitely this. Come on, Rainstorm. You have to come in because I can’t move my arms well enough at the moment to clean my hair.”
“I can do it from the side,” Rainstorm replied flatly.
Tarkyn promptly moved into the centre of the pool. Suddenly there was a splash from the side and Autumn Leaves came up gasping next to Tarkyn.
Tarkyn looked at him in astonishment, “Good heavens, Autumn Leaves. I didn’t realise the depths of your heroism.”
The big woodman smiled self-deprecatingly. “I owe you one. Besides, maybe I have a bit more covering to keep me warm.”
Tarkyn gave a sudden shudder, “Nothing will keep you warm in this.”
“Right. That’s it. I’m in,” said Rainstorm, jumping off the other edge. As soon as his head emerged, he yelled, “Aagh! Tarkyn, you’re mad. Why did I let you talk me into this? It’s horrendous.”
Tarkyn laughed, “I didn’t talk you into it. You just didn’t want to be shown up by Autumn Leaves.”
“Ugh,” He shivered and gave a cheeky grin, “You’re right. Bad for the image, you know.”
It was probably the world’s quickest hair wash but Tarkyn emerged feeling clean and revitalised. As the three of them sat shivering on the grass, with towels wrapped around them, a constrained silence fell on the group.
Finally Tarkyn said, “Executions aren’t common among woodfolk, are they?” He looked around and saw solemn head shakes all around him.
Autumn Leaves cleared his throat. “Actually, I have never known of one before. To be honest, it was really quite shocking. I felt sick for quite a while afterwards.”
“You felt sick?” said Rainstorm derisively, “That could have been me. I’ve hit Tarkyn. I nearly vomited on the spot.”
Waterstone kept his own council but his face had become tight and shuttered.
“I knew you people would struggle with it,” said Tarkyn, “That’s why I asked Danton to do it.”
“It was wise not to put the forest at risk.” Waterstone’s small comment spoke volumes.
Tarkyn looked at him, “One of those times when your principles would be in conflict with the welfare of the forest?”
Waterstone shrugged, “I don’t know, to be honest. I felt pretty murderous about the whole thing. If you’d asked, I might have said yes, but I have never had to follow an order to kill. It would feel like handing over the key to my conscience.”
“I’ll remember that,” said Tarkyn thoughtfully. “Actually, I suppose I already knew that, which is why I left you out of it and directed Danton to do it.”
“But Danton, don’t you have any qualms about following an order like that?” asked Waterstone.
Danton shook his head decisively. “No, none.” He would have said more but after glancing around the woodfolk’s faces, he subsided.
“Go on,” urged Waterstone, “Say what you were going to say.”
Danton shrugged, “I know you find me amusing, but I would always do anything for Tarkyn without question. I willingly entrust him with my conscience.” He gave a little smile, “Actually I would have struggled more if he hadforbidden me to kill those men.”
Autumn Leaves frowned at Danton, “You know Danton, I’ve formed the wrong impression about you. I thought you weren’t a good marksman.”
Danton looked surprised, “I have never said that.”
“Well, why did you get Waterstone to fire the slingshot at that young sorcerer yesterday if you could have done it yourself?”
Danton smiled as realisation dawned, “Oh, I could easily have hit him, but not without killing him. I don’t have your amazing delicacy of touch that allows you to judge the power of your shot so well that you can knock someone out without killing them. No,” he added casually, “I’m always deadly accurate in every sense of the word.”
There was a short silence as everyone digested this information and re-adjusted their views about Danton.
Tarkyn looked in some amusement at the thoughtful woodfolk, “I did explain to you that Danton was an elite guard. He just hasn’t had much need until now to use his skills.”
Danton frowned, “I don’t see why you found the execution so upsetting. Any one of you would have defended Tarkyn if they had still been attacking him when we came round from the drugged wine.”
Autumn Leaves waved a hand from under his towel, “Oh, that’s different. Then it’s in the heat of the moment. I would have killed them without a second thought if I had caught them attacking Tarkyn.” He paused as he thought about it, “I would kill to keep someone safe or to protect the woodfolk if someone saw us, but I couldn’t do it to protect someone’s consequence.” He shot an apologetic glance at Tarkyn then dropped his eyes.
After an uncomfortable silence, Tarkyn said gently, “Autumn Leaves, I thank you for your honesty. I would rather we talked about it than have it hanging between us all.” He drew his damp towel around himself and shivered. “It is partly about consequence but it is more about protection. Anyone who finds themselves as a ruler of men will face more attacks than other people.”
“Unless of course you have an egalitarian society like ours,” put in Waterstone dampeningly, “In which case the whole argument should be redundant.”
“But obviously it is not,” countered Tarkyn, “with me among you.” He shrugged, “I could argue that I, as your forest guardian, am worth protecting unequivocally. But in the end, I think that I would be trying to argue something that is actually a matter of belief. Danton and I, in fact all sorcerers, have grown up with the belief that the Royal Family is sacrosanct. Any attack on a member of the Royal Family is regarded as treason.” Finding himself surrounded by closed faces on the four woodfolk, the prince threw his hands up, sending his towel flying off his shoulders. “You see? How can you understand? You don’t even have any form of government to commit treason against.” Tarkyn dragged his towel back up and pulled it around himself. “Waterstone is probably right. My arguments don’t hold water in your society.” He smiled wryly, “And you are probably right, Autumn Leaves. It is more about consequence than anything else.”
“So why didn’t you have Waterstone and Rainstorm summarily executed then?” asked Autumn Leaves, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
“Don’t, Autumn Leaves”, said Tarkyn gently. “I wouldn’t do that to people who have treated me with respect and kindness – not when it’s only a matter of a temper outburst. I am not as extreme in my interpretation of the law as I could be. I don’t need to be, when no one among you has ever been deliberately cruel. And I don’t feel that my consequence is threatened by any of you. Danton may disagree with that….?”
Tarkyn threw a glance at Danton, who gave a minute shake of his head. “No, Tarkyn. I did think that, but I don’t any longer. At least, not in woodfolk terms.”
“You all respect me, and I respect you. But, even allowing for different cultures, those dead
men back there showed utter contempt for me and subjected me to systematic brutality.” He shrugged, “I cannot allow that. Whether you agree with me or not, I simply cannot, and will not, countenance that. Rainstorm and Waterstone have always respected me, maybe not always as a prince, but always as a person. Both of them only attacked me briefly and in anger, not in cold-blooded premeditation. I can dint my expectations enough to allow for that. But, as a prince of the realm, I can’t allow the deliberate violation of my person to go unpunished.”
“They stepped over one of your boundaries, didn’t they, prince?” said Rainstorm, with some satisfaction.
“They did more than step over it, Rainstorm. They threw themselves over, well beyond any hope of recovery.” Tarkyn looked around them, “But surely they crossed over your boundaries too? What would you have done if they had attacked Waterstone, for instance, as they attacked me? It wasn’t a fight, you know. They bound my hands behind me, then held me between them and took turns in belting me savagely.”
Rainstorm’s eyes narrowed, “So how many times did they hit you?”
Tarkyn gave a short laugh. “Too many times.” Seeing no change in Rainstorm’s intensity, Tarkyn sighed and gave in, “I don’t know. I lost count. Maybe sixteen, twenty times, before the eagle arrived and fought them off. It was pretty dreadful, to be honest.”
Sickened glances passed between the four woodfolk before Waterstone said slowly, “I concede your point, Tarkyn. You are more of a target than any of us. Maybe you did need to react with such force.” He shook his head, “Nothing like this has ever happened before. No one has ever been so brutal and woodfolk have never stood by and allowed someone to be attacked like that. Even if a fight has broken out, bystanders will only let it go so far before intervening.”
“I personally think they deserved to be killed,” said Summer Rain, much to everyone’s surprise. She spread her hands. “What else could you do with them? To have acted like that, they represent a threat to everyone. If you exiled them, what guarantee would you have that they wouldn’t come back and prey on the outskirts of our forest? I would say the same thing whether it were Tarkyn or Rainstorm. We have never had to deal with brutality like that.” She nodded her head at the blond sorcerer, “And I would like to thank you for doing our dirty work for us.”