The Wizard's Curse (Book 2)

by Jenny Ealey

  “No, very few people would be willing to lay themselves open like that.” Tarkyn smiled, “So with that level of self-assurance, it is less surprising, isn’t it, that he sets little store by titles and didn’t bother to mention to you that he is my blood brother.”

  Danton heaved a sigh, “At least now I can understand what he offered you that I haven’t been able to. Sorcerers can’t open their minds up like that – except for you.” He gave a slight smile, “You’re a hard nut to crack, aren’t you? I never realised how little you trusted anybody.”

  Tarkyn smiled wryly, “But in the end, trusting nobody is just as pointless as trusting everybody. I still didn’t have the discernment to know where the danger would come from.”

  “And do you now?”

  Tarkyn shook his head, “Not always, but I have had Waterstone to guide me so that the circle of people I trust has widened. If Waterstone trusts them, then so can I. And now if anyone in that circle trusts someone, then so can I.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I just needed one sure point of reference to start from.”

  “So it was really Waterstone and not you who decided that I could be trusted, after you dragged me back from the encampment?” Danton almost succeeded in sounding objective.

  Tarkyn thought about it then shook his head and smiled, “No. You convinced me. I suppose I would have listened if Waterstone had had any serious misgivings but as he said to you, he was always fairly sure he could trust you.”

  “He didn’t get it right with the mountainfolk, did he?”

  “I think he was out cold before he even had time to think about it. But you’re right. All of us were much too casual in that instance.”

  Movements over by the fire distracted them at this point and they both tensed as two figures approached them through the gloom. The shadows resolved themselves into Creaking Bough and Thunder Storm and two others who each picked up a child and carried them off to bed.

  “You might like to join them at the fire now,” said Thunder Storm over his shoulder, as he left carrying Rain on Water. “Up to you, of course,” came his rumbling voice trailing back out of the gloom as he disappeared towards the shelters.

  Tarkyn smiled ruefully at Danton as he stood up carefully and began to walk towards the fire, “I’m never going to live down telling him off for ordering me around.”

  With difficulty, Danton repressed his reaction and held his peace, realising that he could think of nothing to say that the prince would agree with.

  Tarkyn’s voice came out of the darkness ahead of him, “Well done, Danton. You are so disciplined.”

  “Thanks,” replied the sorcerer dryly.

  As they approached the firesite, each was given a beautiful, hand -blown glass filled with golden wine. With rigid control, Tarkyn repressed the urge to glance in alarm at Danton. Instead, he graciously accepted the wine and took a good-sized sip.

  “This is an excellent wine,” he said urbanely, scanning within himself for any ill effects. “I believe I have tasted it just once before, on the occasion of the King’s twenty-fifth birthday. I believe it is one of your rarer, older wines. Is that correct?”

  A thin middle-aged man with tatty hair and a long nose came forward and spoke, “Indeed it is, Your Highness. We have very few bottles of it left and we treasure them. My name is Sighing Wind.”

  The prince gave a slight bow, “I am honoured that you consider my palate worthy of the sacrifice of such a fine wine.”

  The thin woodman indicated a comfortable position near the fire, in a mossy position against an oak tree. “Would you like to sit down and make yourselves comfortable? I believe you have particular preference for oaks. They are very grand trees, aren’t they?”

  Tarkyn contained a private smile and sat down awkwardly, taking care not to spill his wine. “Thank you. That is very thoughtful of you.”

  Once the sorcerers were seated, all the woodfolk arranged themselves around the fire. With a slight twinge of trepidation, Tarkyn noticed that Waterstone and most of his home guard were on the other side of the fire from him. He drew a deep breath to steady himself and awaited events.

  Firstly small bowls of nuts were handed around. Then plates of sweet little doughy rolls and dried fruits were brought in and placed around the fire where everyone could reach them and a large pot of water was hung over the flames.

  “Might I suggest,” said Sighing Wind diffidently, “that you only eat nuts with this wine. The sweetness of the rolls would detract from its flavour.”

  “I am sure you are right,” replied the prince, taking another sip, “I would not dream of desecrating this wine by eating anything but savoury fare with it.”

  Slowly, as the excruciating minutes ticked by, small pockets of conversation sprang up around the fire. Tarkyn and Danton, although seated together, ignored each other and spoke only to their neighbours on the other side of them. Despite their years at court, neither of them had ever experienced any occasion more formal. The level of courtesy was almost paralysing.

  When the precious wine was finished, Sighing Wind removed their glasses and offered them sweet rolls and fruit to be eaten in accompaniment with cups of locally grown tea. Both accepted graciously. Occasionally, Tarkyn would throw a glance over the fire to Waterstone or Autumn Leaves but they assiduously avoided his gaze. Tarkyn felt that his trust in them was being tested to the limit by the situation in which he found himself, surrounded by uncertain woodfolk and with no protection in place. Over time, he let his gaze travel slowly and inconspicuously around the firesite, checking where Blizzard and Dry Berry were seated and looking for any signs of tension or subterfuge. He took a deep breath and released it, giving himself into the hands of his woodfolk.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said, returning his attention to Sighing Wind who was standing before him handing him a steaming cup of tea. “I missed what you said. Thank you.” He produced a smile and accepted the tea.

  And finally, when everyone had a cup of tea in their hands, the business of the evening began. Dripping Rock stood up and cleared his throat. He waved his hand around to encompass everyone seated at the firesite. “I have been asked to speak to Prince Tarkyn on behalf of the woodfolk of the mountains, commonly known as the mountainfolk. We have talked long and hard with the prince’s band of woodfolk, as he may have noticed, over several hours. After the provision of a great deal of information previously unknown to many of us and after fierce debate, we have reached the following conclusions.”

  Tarkyn’s stomach tensed up until he again reminded himself to trust his woodfolk.

  “We absolve Lord Danton of any responsibility for the deaths of our fellow woodfolk.”

  Danton who had been unconscious for the previous discussion, frowned in confusion but wisely kept quiet.

  “We also acknowledge that Lord Danton has proved himself to be a friend of the woodfolk and thank him for his part in the rescue of woodfolk from the encampment.” There was a slight pause as he went briefly out of focus to receive a prompt from someone. “And for helping to save the forest from the infection.”

  Danton nodded his head in acknowledgement.

  “We accept our community’s responsibility for the degree of harm suffered by Prince Tarkyn and after much debate, acknowledge his right to inflict the death penalty, partly because of the unprecedented savagery of the attack and partly because the laws of the outside world have come to reside in the forest, whether we like it or not.”

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows but did not make any acknowledgement, making it clear that from his point of view, there was no debate.

  Dripping Rock took a swig of tea with a hand that shook a little. “We also apologise for our own breach of etiquette in not welcoming Prince Tarkyn properly to our firesite.”

  There is euphemism for heckling and jeering, if ever I heard one, thought Tarkyn.

  “We appreciate Prince Tarkyn’s concern that there should be no rift among the wood folk and we thank him for allowing all of us
to come to an agreement ourselves without the use of force and without imposing his views on any of us.”

  Waterstone must be hating this part, reflected Tarkyn, thinking of the woodman’s loathing of the oath.

  Dripping Rock took a deep breath, “And finally, we come to the question of swearing fealty. Before he arrived, news of the prince’s efforts to support the woodfolk had preceded him. We had decided that, in the best interests of woodfolk unity, we should join in swearing the oath, both to support our forest guardian and to support our fellow woodfolk who have carried the responsibility ever since the prince arrived in the forest. However, we were curious to see whether, in fact, we had already become bound by the oath.”

  Suddenly the prince spoke. Everyone was so intent on Dripping Rock that another voice came as a shock. “Excuse me for interrupting, but how could you all have come to an agreement to take an oath with that level of resentment among you?”

  Dripping Rock glanced at Dry Berry uncertainly before replying, “I think some people’s concerns were not given sufficient attention.”

  “And now those people are dead?”

  Dripping Rock shook his head, “No, I’m happy to say, not all of them. But I believe we have been more assiduous this time in listening to the dissenters’ views and debating with them.”

  “I see. Go on.” Tarkyn stopped himself from glancing across at Blizzard to gauge his reaction.

  “So, now that the mayhem of today has died down and we have had a chance to gather all the details of the prince’s activities within the forest, and to actually see his affinity with the creatures of the woodlands, we can reiterate our intention of joining our fellow woodfolk in swearing an oath of allegiance to him, if he will accept it. And this time, I believe we will have unanimous agreement.” Dripping Rock had a very strange way of addressing Tarkyn in the third person, as if he were talking about someone else.

  “I understand you have debated long and hard amongst yourselves but I have not been a party to these discussions. So I would ask, why would such egalitarian people as yourselves choose to swear an oath of allegiance?”

  “Because, even if we must concede a degree of autonomy to the prince, we at least will remain equal among ourselves.”

  “With the exception of Waterstone’s and Ancient Oak’s brother.”

  Dripping Rock’s eyes widened but he merely said, “Even as you say.”

  Unexpectedly, Tarkyn turned to Blizzard and asked pleasantly, “And what is this oath that you are prepared to swear to me?”

  Blizzard turned red and blinked like a rabbit caught in a bright light. “I, I am not sure, Your Highness. That is, I do not know the exact words. But I am prepared to swear it, on my honour.”

  “I will not force you to swear it, or harm you if you don’t. But I need to know why you would. What has changed your mind?”

  “Hearing about all the things that you have done already to help woodfolk. But more than that, watching your family and friends supporting you so vehemently after we heard you give them the right to say what they pleased.”

  Tarkyn regarded him steadily, “They always have that right. That was a tactical remark, not a permission.” After a moment’s thought, he asked, “And what of Lord Danton? Has your attitude changed towards him too?”

  Blizzard threw a sharp glance at Danton before facing the prince and replying, “I don’t know why I am bearing the brunt of your interrogation. The thought that woodfolk might be killed by sorcerers has always been everybody’s worst nightmare, not just mine.” He cleared his throat and dropped his eyes. “It is difficult to accept strangers among us when we have been brought up to avoid anyone who is not woodfolk. But my mind is no more closed than the next person’s.” He looked back up, “I was angry and upset. I have known those men who were killed, all my life. They may not have been the best of men but they were not always the worst either. And no one had told me half of what I know now.”

  “So can you cope with Danton living among us?”

  “Yes. He has proved his worth.” Blizzard shrugged, “Besides, now I understand that he did not kill those men. You did. And if I had been beaten up like that, I would have too.”

  Although this was a simplistic version of Tarkyn’s reasons for having his assailants killed, there was enough truth in it to leave it uncorrected. “I beg your pardon if I seemed to be badgering you. I chose you to question because you seemed the most antagonistic earlier. I felt that if you could justify your change of heart then I could be satisfied that everyone’s change of heart was genuine. Thank you for helping me.”

  Tarkyn turned back to Dripping Rock, “Please accept my apologies for interrupting your flow. Now that I have it clear in my mind why you wish to swear this oath, we come to what. What oath are you planning to swear?”

  On the other side of the fire, Thunder Storm and Waterstone stood up and came around to stand before Tarkyn.

  “I will say it to you so that they are not swearing something you may not agree to,” rumbled Thunder Storm. When Tarkyn nodded, he spoke the words quietly so that only those closest to him could hear.

  Tarkyn gave a slight smile and said, “There is just one slight change I would ask to be made. In the last phrase, can we change ‘my fellow woodfolk’ to ‘your fellow woodfolk’. Then it is clearer than I too am woodfolk. Do you agree?”

  Waterstone smiled, “Yes, I agree. I will put it to them. I’m sure they won’t mind.” After a short mind conference, he nodded and said, “If you would please stand, Your Highness, Thunder Storm will orchestrate the oath-taking.”

  Tarkyn noted the use of his title and followed Waterstone’s request.

  “Must they kneel? It is so embarrassing,” whispered Waterstone.

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows and said quietly, “You had to do it. So must they. I will begin the proceedings. Then Thunder Storm can dictate the oath for them.”

  The prince drew himself up and spoke in a strong clear voice, “If you wish me to accept your allegiance, you must kneel before me to swear your fealty.”

  With discomforted glances between them, the mountainfolk sank down to kneel before their forest guardian.

  “Now repeat the words of the oath after Thunder Storm.”

  Every member of the mountainfolk incanted, “On behalf of the forests of Eskuzor, the creatures of the woods, the birds of the air and the fish in the streams, I give my solemn vow to honour, serve and protect you, Tarkyn Tamadil, Prince of Eskuzor, Guardian of the Forest, until the end of my days. I am bound by my honour to fulfil this oath in support of you and your fellow woodfolk.”

  “Thank you. I accept your oath. And now I will re-avow my oath to you.” Tarkyn created a bronze flame to shine up from his hand as he intoned, “I, Tarkyn Tamadil, Prince of the Forests of Eskuzor, Guardian of the Forest, give my solemn vow that I will fulfil my obligations and responsibilities as your liege lord and will protect the woodfolk and the forests of Eskuzor. Your just cause will be my cause and your fate will be my fate. This is the covenant beqeathed to me by my father, Markazon Tamadil, 48th King of Eskuzor.”

  There was no dramatic ending to this oath-taking because it was bound by honour not by sorcery. Tarkyn quietly extinguished his flame and looked around at the kneeling mountainfolk, “You have overcome a disastrous set of events today to come to a resolution between us all. You may rise, secure in the knowledge that the woodfolk style of governance has once more found a way through.”

  Chapter 23

  Deep in the night, Tarkyn lay sleepless within his shelter. His body was exhausted and hurting, but his mind could not release its hold on consciousness. Every time he began to sink towards sleep, a slight sound or a sudden thought would startle him back into full wakefulness. His mind kept going over and over the attack on him. The same thing happened each time he tried to focus to heal himself. He couldn’t let down his guard enough to focus inwardly. He did not feel safe among these woodfolk but placing Danton or a member of the home guard outside his s
helter would have insulted the mountainfolk who had so newly sworn their allegiance to him.

  Although he had accepted their oath in order to mend the rift between woodfolk, he did not yet have any faith in their honour. He had meant what he said when he had told them that only time would test the calibre of their integrity.

  In the darkest hour before dawn, he finally gave up the struggle to sleep and, pulling his cloak around him, slipped out of his shelter to go for a walk. As soon as he straightened up, he heard a quiet rustling in the branches above him and looked up to see a large eagle owl keeping watch over his doorway. Before he had taken two steps, Waterstone appeared at his side from one direction and Autumn Leaves from the other.

  His shoulders sagged with relief and he smiled in the darkness. Waterstone took hold of his arm and guided him sure-footedly away from the sleeping woodfolk and down to the stream where they could talk unnoticed.

  Tarkyn sent him a picture of lookouts with a query.

  “It’s all right. Our people are guarding this side of the clearing,” replied Waterstone quietly. “What’s up?”

  Tarkyn gave a rueful grin, “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know you two were keeping watch or I might have been able to.”

  “Sorry, Tarkyn,” said Autumn Leaves. “We couldn’t find an opportunity to tell you. I hoped you might realise that we wouldn’t leave you unguarded again.”

  When they found somewhere to sit, Tarkyn groaned with the effort of lowering himself down.

  “Haven’t you done anything about healing yourself yet?” asked Waterstone.

  Tarkyn shook his head, “I didn’t feel safe enough to concentrate. I’m sorry. I know you spent hours sorting things out with the Mountainfolk, but I can’t just turn around and start trusting them after what they did to me.”

  “So you were going to take a walk in the dark, in amongst them all, were you, without your shield? That didn’t strike you as foolhardy?” asked Autumn Leaves.