The Wizard's Curse (Book 2)

by Jenny Ealey

  Waterstone waved his hand dismissively, “No, of course he hasn’t. He hasn’t even come close. In fact he spends more time carefully preserving everyone’s autonomy.”

  Rock Fall grunted, “Can’t say that’s impression I’ve had. Poor old Blizzard. Threw him around like an empty wine keg, then bellowed at him for disobedience when Blizzard was just trying to protect him. Ordered us all to be nice to Midnight when we’ve had nothing but grief from him for years.” He shrugged, “The prince seemed friendly enough when we were mucking around with the slingshots but mostly he’s pretty distant and formal. Still, I suppose that’s what princes must be like. Hopefully, we won’t have to have too much to do with him.”

  The woodfolk around him were so non-plussed by this speech that none of them knew where to start in rectifying Rock Fall’s impression. After a stunned silence, in the way of things, they all started talking at once.

  Rock Fall held up his hands, “Whoa. Sorry I said anything. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “We’re not upset,” replied Lapping Water. “That is, we’re not angry with you. I suppose we are upset that you have the wrong impression of Tarkyn.”

  “I can see why, though,” added Ancient Oak. “He was pretty harsh with Blizzard in the caves, much worse than he has been with any of us.”

  Rainstorm nodded, “Yep. I must admit he was fearsomely angry for a moment there.”

  Autumn Leaves and Waterstone looked at each other and had a quick mental conference before Waterstone said, “We are in a bit of a dilemma here. We can explain Tarkyn’s behaviour, at least to some extent, but we’re worried that it will be a betrayal of his confidence.”

  After another short conference, Autumn Leaves continued, “Because you and Cavern are the only mountainfolk to make the effort to join this group, we’ll tell you. But only if you don’t go around telling everyone else.”

  Rock Fall and Cavern looked intrigued but agreed readily enough. Autumn Leaves took a deep breath and let it out, “Tarkyn was badly hurt by that attack. As soon as he was out of sight of you all, he virtually collapsed. He has been angry and jumpy ever since. He is very wary of trusting people at the best of times and despite the oath you gave him, he is nowhere near trusting any of you yet. He appears formal because he does not yet feel safe among you. If you think back, he wasn’t formal or distant with Dry Berry when he first saw her.”

  Rock Fall nodded reluctantly, “True.”

  “Yes, I had forgotten that,” said Cavern in her strangely reverberating voice.

  “At least reserve your judgement about him,” added Waterstone. “What you’re seeing now is the aftermath of the attack.”

  Lapping Water placed her hand on Rock Fall’s arm, “If you think about how he behaves with Midnight and how he is with us, that’s more like his usual self. Although even with us, a fight between Waterstone and him has blown up out of nowhere.”

  Waterstone grimaced, “I’m afraid I didn’t help matters. I could have backed down and apologised for my previous remark but didn’t. I’m pretty rattled at the moment myself. I’ve always hated the whole business with the oath and I find the degree of magical power that Tarkyn can unleash if he chooses very unnerving. Watching the absolute control Tarkyn exerted over that ferocious animal is what prompted my remark about breaking the wolf’s spirit in the first place. And when I see unbridled displays of his power, I can’t help thinking that if he chose to behave that way, that could be me or any of us.”

  “That was us, the other day,” Rock Fall pointed out.

  “Yes, but quite frankly, you deserved it,” said Rainstorm flatly. “Bashing up Tarkyn, jeering at him, beating up Danton, and even more unforgivably, attacking two of your own, Summer Rain and me.”

  “So it’s acceptable for them to attack Tarkyn and me, is it?” demanded Danton.

  “No, it is not,” snapped Rainstorm, “But from the point of view of woodfolk unused to sorcerers, it is more understandable.”

  Just as things were beginning to overheat, a gentle wash of humour swept around them and they turned to find Tarkyn leaning against a tree smiling wryly.

  “I’m sorry I was snaky, Waterstone. I just can’t seem to exert that total control you’re so worried about, over myself. So little bits of anger keep leaking out all over the place.”

  Waterstone gave a grunt, “I too am sorry, Tarkyn. Rainstorm is right. Now is not the time to fall out with you. I suppose we are all a bit edgy at the moment.”

  Tarkyn’s eyes lit up. “Have you noticed how often Rainstorm is right about things? He is an ornery bastard sometimes, but he’s usually right.” He sent a little wave of friendship specifically to Rainstorm, as he smiled around the group, “Now, if you could keep yourselves from each others’ throats for a little while longer, I’ll borrow Running Feet again to see whether I can politely ask the wolf pack leader for assistance.”

  Waterstone’s eyes narrowed, aware that he was being teased, “And if he refuses?”

  Tarkyn smiled and gave a little bow, “If you will permit me and if it does not offend your sensibilities too much, I will have to resort to bluff over such a long distance since I am quite unable to exert any real power.”

  “You outfaced him last time, long before he came anywhere near your magic. So I am sure you can do it again this time.”

  Tarkyn became quietly serious, “And yet, I truly do hesitate to do that, Waterstone, if it is going to upset you. I do want to protect that sorcerer family but I’m sure we can think of another way, if we have to.”

  Waterstone’s eyes gleamed in appreciation, both at the offer and at the tactics. “No. Time is short. Stick with this plan. The damage, if there is any, has already been done.”

  Tarkyn considered him for a moment. “Very well, but I will only agree to doing this if you are with me, tuning in to my exchange with the wolf. Then you can satisfy yourself that I am not breaking this animal’s spirit or if you think I am, can intervene and stop me. – Agreed?”

  Wryly aware that the situation had been reversed so that he was now persuading Tarkyn to do something he had previously disapproved of, Waterstone reluctantly nodded agreement.

  As they left the clearing, Tarkyn checked briefly with Midnight but the little boy was happy to stay where he was in the corner with Rain on Water.

  With one woodman guiding the direction and another monitoring his intent, Tarkyn sent his mind roving into the western forests searching for the fearsome, feral mind of the wolf. Tarkyn tuned into him just as the pack leader and a group of five other wolves were mounting an attack on a hapless red deer. The three men watched with the lead wolf’s fierce intensity as the wolves circled the deer. Then, a brief flicker of command radiated from the pack leader and the wolves sprang at the deer with business-like aggression. The men could feel the sharp teeth of the lead wolf biting into the strong neck muscles of the deer and tasted the dusty, bristly coat and the blood. They saw the close proximity of the other wolves’ fangs and yellow eyes, and felt the weight of the deer on neck and jaw as the animal was dragged down.

  As Tarkyn pulled his mind away from the wolf’s, he was left with a faint impression of sneering derision. He looked a little pale, “I’m afraid my lupine associate is now thinking that I am faint-hearted.” He gave a wry smile, “There may be some truth in that. I have to admit I did not relish the idea of partaking in a freshly killed, uncooked meal of blood, bone and flesh, complete with fur and gristle.”

  Tarkyn was pleased to notice that the two woodmen also looked a little unwell.

  “No,” said Running Feet, “I don’t think I could have stood that for too long. Besides, you would have had to exert enormous force to pull him away from his lunch. He has such a harsh, focused mind, doesn’t he? You’re better off waiting until he’s sated.”

  “Then he’ll probably be too full to move,” pointed out Waterstone.

  Tarkyn grimaced, “True. Bad timing, isn’t it? How far is he from Lord Tolward’s house on the grasslands,
Running Feet?”

  “I can’t be sure, but I would say a good twenty miles further east. What do you think, Waterstone?”

  “Yes, at least that. They have returned to their homelands deep within the western forests.”

  “Twenty miles!” exclaimed Tarkyn. “They’d never make it to Lord Tolward’s with a safe enough margin for disappearing before the bloodhounds arrive, anyway.” He ran his hand through his hair, “Blast it! Now what are we going to do?”

  “You could send in a horde of rats to drive the sorcerers out of their house before the trackers arrive,” said Waterstone, “but young Winguard won’t be able to get far with his broken leg.”

  “And the trackers will still know I have been in the house.”

  “At the very least, you can alert their farm dogs to make a fuss and give them advance warning of the bloodhounds. After all, your sorcerer friend knew about these bloodhounds, didn’t he?” asked Running Feet.

  Tarkyn grimaced. “Yes, he did. But I don’t think he expected them to be used so quickly or to bring danger right to his door.”

  They mulled over possibilities for the next ten minutes. Tarkyn had just decided that the dogs were the best option when intense feelings of satisfaction, relish and, surprisingly, gratitude flooded into his mind. He blinked then closed his eyes and managed to connect the two woodmen as the wolf’s mind connected with his. With a glint of sardonic humour, the wolf crunched down on a final piece of gristle as he sent a query to Tarkyn. Before Tarkyn answered, he asked why the gratitude and received back images of the wolf enjoying his dinner and of chains in the encampment being broken and thrown away. Then the query came again.

  Using a complicated series of images, Tarkyn managed to convey his visit to Tolward’s house and that he wanted to protect the house from the bloodhounds following him. He demonstrated his request but managed to show that distance now made this impossible. The intense yellow eyes of the wolf filled his mind, the mere existence of its fierce personality posing a threat. Tarkyn held quietly firm and waited. Slowly, an image of two lone wolves skirting the edge of the woods to the east of the grasslands filled his mind. As he watched, the wolves halted and lifted their heads sniffing the air, their eyes focused into the distance. Then they wheeled around to their left and loped swiftly out into the open space of the grasslands, up the slope and along the eastern side of the ridge.

  With the ease of years of mental co-operation, Running Feet immediately sent directions to Tolward’s house through Tarkyn to the two wolves. As they neared the sorcerers’ houses, the pace of the wolves slackened. They slunk along lower to the ground and sought out scant cover behind low bushes or tall stands of grass. Tarkyn belatedly realized that the wolves’ safety was threatened not only by bloodhounds but also by the very people they were striving to protect. He sent an urgent message to wait. With a wrench, he broke contact with the wolf and then, using Running Feet’s guidance, found the farm dogs, showed them the wolves and requested their silence.

  Re-connecting with the wolf was not difficult. As soon as Tarkyn released his focus on the dogs’ minds, the lead wolf’s mind pounced and firmly restored the connection between them. Tarkyn explained what he had done and received a feeling of critical evaluation followed by acknowledgement. Clearly the wolf was not used to participants in his operations initiating their own actions. Attention reverted to the two wolves, who had now reached the point at the top of the ridge above Tolward’s holding. They ran back and forth, crossing and re-crossing the area between the ridge and the house. Now and then, one of them would stop and stare insolently down at the farm dogs who watched them, quiet but rigid with frustration.

  Then, surprisingly, they did not skirt back around to return to the forest but continued along the ridge, zig-zagging back and forth across Tarkyn’s trail where he had rejoined the woodfolk at the top of the ridge. To lend weight to their presence, they chose a few places to urinate before finally retracing their own trail back along the ridge and down into the forest. Tarkyn sent out waves of approbation and appreciation.

  Again Tarkyn’s mind was filled with the image of the lead wolf staring at him with frightening intensity. Then, just for an instant, the wolf blinked and looked away in a gesture of submission before returning his fearsome gaze to Tarkyn. Keeping his own eyes trained on the wolf, the prince bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement and sent a final wave of thanks before pulling out of the wolf’s mind.

  Chapter 32

  For a few minutes, the three of them just sat there in silence, recovering from the intensity of the wolf. Finally Waterstone blew out a breath and said, “Fair enough. I take your point. There is no way that wolf’s spirit is broken. He exudes strength and domination.” He glanced sideways at Tarkyn, “You’re a scary bastard, Tarkyn, if you have achieved dominion over his will.”

  Tarkyn smiled faintly and looked at his friend, “I guess that is something we all have to live with.”

  “What is?” asked Running Feet from the other side of him.

  Tarkyn’s smile broadened, “That I’m a scary bastard.”

  “Oh.”

  Waterstone chuckled, “You know, when you put it like that, it seems much more straightforward. I can live with that. Meet my friend, the scary bastard. Has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”

  Tarkyn smiled but shook his head regretfully, “I’m afraid I have been too much of one lately, especially to Blizzard.”

  “That’s the thing I’ve noticed about you though,” remarked Running Feet. “You tend to return like with like. If a person is kind or needs your help, they receive your kindness and help but if they are unpleasant or threatening to you, you return their unpleasantness in full measure and then some.”

  “The trouble is that sometimes I get the wrong end of the stick,” said Tarkyn. “For instance, when I first met all of you, I subjected you to my anger because I wrongly thought you were forcing me to stay in the forest and yesterday I tore into Blizzard for refusing to obey me when he was determinedly risking my ire to protect me.”

  “Perhaps yesterday his heart was in the right place, but the day before he was downright nasty. So I’m not surprised you were ready to expect the worst of him,” said Running Feet.

  Waterstone frowned, “Anyway, I don’t think it’s true that Tarkyn returns unpleasantness in kind as a general rule.” He glanced at Tarkyn, “What about Rainstorm? You sidestep his challenges all the time without beating him down.”

  Tarkyn laughed, “Not all the time, but usually. His churlishness isn’t about me though. It’s about him. He’s not unpleasant, he’s entertaining.”

  Waterstone turned back to Running Feet, “And what about the forestals? They attacked him, were untrusting and unfriendly, shot arrows at him and tied him up.” He raised his eyebrows at Tarkyn, “And from what I gather, you just let them do it until they calmed down.”

  “True, but let’s face it. That was tactical,” replied Tarkyn with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Running Feet frowned and said casually, “So how do you justify not executing any of them when they actually shot arrows at you?”

  Suddenly the air between them stilled, a clear indication that Running Feet’s words had gone beyond the pale.

  With a careful effort, the prince took a breath and replied tightly, “I do not have to justify myself to you.” He let out the breath as he controlled his anger and continued, “Having said that, because you are my friends, I will try to. I’m afraid you may not like my answer, though.”

  Waterstone looked at this man who held so much power and had just resisted his urge to hit them with his inbred disdain. He knew that Tarkyn often had to overcome such feelings and he smiled warmly at him, “You know, Tarkyn, I remember you saying that it was difficult for you to keep a dignified distance from us when you first came here and that subsequently, you decided not to. But I don’t think many people realize how hard you have to work on yourself to keep your friendly lack of distance. Just to let you know I
appreciate how hard it is and that you make the effort to do so.”

  Tarkyn gave a wry smile, “Thanks. I try. But I’m afraid I’m having no success at all with the mountainfolk.”

  Running Feet who had watched this exchange with some interest, said, “Hardly surprising. You can’t go from the verge of outright war through to casual friendship in the space of a couple of days. How long did it take you and the home guard to feel comfortable with each other?”

  Tarkyn shrugged, “It depends on whether you count the two weeks I was unconscious or not. After all, in a funny way, my friendship with Waterstone was forged during that time and it gave people a chance to become used to my presence among them even if they weren’t talking to me. But after that, I suppose it was at least another week before we began to feel at all comfortable with each other. Then of course, it all blew up and I left and found the forestals.” He grimaced. “… which brings us back to your question, Running Feet. How do I justify not executing the forestals when they fired on me with intent to kill?”

  Tarkyn picked up a stick and concentrated on breaking bits off the end of it as he basically thought out loud. “This is not an easy question to answer. Firstly, I came as a complete surprise to the forestals. They had only vaguely heard of me, had had nothing to do with the oath-taking and knew little about royalty and the world outside the forest. All they really knew about me was that I had thrown my weight around when I first entered the forest and that I was branded a rogue sorcerer. Whereas, by the time we reached the mountainfolk, they had had long conversations with you, and Dry Berry had been to my inauguration into the woodfolk and had had time to report back. Secondly, the forestals were frightened of an unknown outsider and were acting in self-defence. The mountainfolk already knew my reputation within the forest and knew I was no threat to them. Their attack on me was driven by resentment and viciousness. One was self defence, as they saw it. The other was unprovoked, unjustified attack.” He raised his head and looked at them in turn, “I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do. In the end, the reality is that my justification is simply a matter of the motivation behind the attack.” He gave a slight smile, “Which is not actually very helpful for anyone thinking of attacking me and wondering if they can get away with it.”