by Jenny Ealey
“What do you think?” whispered Waterstone. “Will they be together or will they be trying to come at Tarkyn from different directions?”
Danton considered, “If I were running this operation, I would spread my men out, to give more chance of surprise. I would hope that even if one were found, the other might get through.”
“So you think that this one will be alone?”
“I can’t guarantee it, but I think so.”
“We’ll need to keep looking for the other one then.” When Danton nodded, Waterstone continued, “And how do they know where to find Tarkyn?”
Danton shook his head, “I don’t think they do. I think they are searching systematically. I suspect they have taken a quarter each and are working their way outward from the clearing where they last saw us in the two most likely directions.”
“So, this is probably the only one who is anywhere near Tarkyn. The other is probably more towards the southeast. Do you agree?”
“Yes, I think so. Perhaps the mountainfolk could join the search for that one.” Danton crept closer through the trees, all the while keeping his eye on Waterstone for any signals from the woodfolk stationed above. “What are we going to do with them when we find them?”
“What did Tarkyn say to Journeyman?”
“He said he would show less mercy next time.” Danton stopped dead and pushed himself flat against the tree. “He’s on the move,” he hissed.
Waterstone went out of focus to talk to the woodfolk in the trees. When he refocused, he asked quietly, “No shield. Why?”
“Attracts attention. So while he is trying to be discreet, he is vulnerable.”
“Hmm, we don’t really know what Tarkyn would want, do we?”
Danton shook his head, “No. I think you had better knock this sorcerer out while we consult him. I don’t think we can assume that Tarkyn would want them killed. What do you think?”
Waterstone gave a short nod and went out of focus. A moment later, there was a crash nearby followed by a dull thud, as the hapless sorcerer collapsed into a bush and then fell senseless to the ground. The woodman grinned, “One down. One to go.”
Ancient Oak swung nimbly down the tree and tied the man’s hands behind his back. He brushed his hands off, “There we are, big brother. All tied up neat and tidy. I’ll send a message through to fetch Tarkyn then, shall I?”
Not long afterwards, they received notice that the other sorcerer had met with a similar fate.
“Good,” said Waterstone with some satisfaction. “Now I’ll ask the mountainfolk to secure their sorcerer and bring him over here before he wakes. Then we’ll clear off and leave you and Tarkyn to decide their fate.”
However, when Tarkyn arrived, it was clear that he was not pleased to discover that all this activity had occurred without his knowledge.
“Your Highness,” protested Danton, reverting to formality in the face of the prince’s displeasure, “Our job is to guard you and that is what we have done. You cannot be involved in every aspect of everyone’s lives.”
“I don’t wish to be, but I do wish to be kept informed of any danger that threatens either the woodfolk or myself. I don’t think that is unreasonable. I have no intention of rushing off and dealing with every incident but I would like to know and to have an oversight of events.”
“But Sire, I am informing you now.”
“Not good enough, Danton,” said Tarkyn shortly, firmly closing the discussion. He turned to consider the two sorcerers lying trussed up on the ground. “So, Wizard Journeyman didn’t take his defeat lying down. I can’t say I’m surprised. It was a long way to come, to turn back so easily.” He frowned down at the unconscious men. “So, I must keep my word that I will show less mercy but at the same time, I do not wish to add to my already dire reputation.”
“Waterstone and I thought that you might not want them killed outright, Sire.”
“Good of you to consider my wishes,” replied the prince acerbically. “Hmm, I think we need do no more than send them on their way with a note in their pocket to the effect that our intelligence network is everywhere and that next time, a surreptitious attempt to approach me will mean their deaths.”
Danton looked confused, “And how is that showing less mercy, my lord?”
Tarkyn gave an unsettling smile, “Just wait. You will see.”
As he spoke, the sorcerers showed the first signs of regaining consciousness. When they were sufficiently recovered, Tarkyn asked Danton to sit them up and give them both a drink of water.
Tarkyn sat himself on a nearby log and waited until he had their attention, “Good afternoon, gentlemen. As I recall, your names are Rorlan and Mandron. I believe you have come seeking an audience with me?”
The two sorcerers looked at each other, obviously wondering at the prince’s credulity.
Tarkyn leaned forward, “No, obviously that was not your intention. If not for my extensive intelligence system, your ploy to catch me unawares might possibly have succeeded.” He shrugged, “But unfortunately for you, your chances of catching me unaware are almost non-existent. More water?” he asked urbanely.
Tarkyn’s courtly courtesy was unnerving the sorcerers. Despite the cool weather, a faint sweat had broken out on each of them. They nodded for more water but clearly more to humour Tarkyn than because they needed it. The prince waited until they had finished and then said pleasantly, “And does either of you have anything you would like to say to me before I reveal your fates?”
Danton watched in fascination as Tarkyn’s urbane manner slowly destroyed the two men’s defences.
“No, Your Highness,” muttered Rorlan, “I can think of nothing to say. You know why we are here. You have already said you would show no mercy if we were caught. So… ”
Tarkyn shook his head regretfully and said with a gentleness that froze their blood, “No, Rorlan. I can see that your memory is deficient. I didn’t say that I would show no mercy. I said I would showless mercy.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” growled Mandron, almost quivering with trepidation. “That you will torture us or maim us but not kill us? I think I would rather die.”
Tarkyn smiled sweetly, “And yet I don’t recall asking you your opinion.” He paused, the silence even more intimidating as his words. “So, to give me some idea of how to proceed, what fate did you envisage for me, had you succeeded in capturing me?”
The sorcerers stared wild-eyed at each other, the sweat standing out in beads on their foreheads now.
“Imprisonment, my lord,” said Mandron tightly.
“Really? And yet I am sure I have been told that it is now the death sentence that I’m facing.” Tarkyn crossed his legs and made himself comfortable, “Do you know, Mandron, there is one quality above all that will raise my ire.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Deceit, Mandron. Deceit.”Tarkyn’s voice hardened, “Never, whatever you do, lie to me or humour me, or your fate will be considerably worse than the one I have mapped out for you.” His voice softened again. “Now, are we clear on that, Mandron?”
“Yes, my lord. I beg your pardon, my lord.”
“Now, to whose service are you two sworn?” asked Tarkyn in a slightly more business-like manner.
“No one’s, Your Highness. We are mercenaries, Sire,” replied Rorlan.
“And how did that come about? When I left, everyone was sworn to a lord’s house.”
Rorlan shook his head, “Not everyone, Sire. Not merchants and townspeople. Only the people on the land. Now merchants and tradesmen go in fear of their lives and their livelihoods because of the rampant gangs. So, many of us have turned to soldiering to keep safe and to make some money.”
“So, with all of that to contend with, why do you waste your energy on coming after me?” asked Tarkyn, for the moment forgetting to maintain his fearsomely smooth courtesy.
“For the reward, of course. You are worth more than I would make in ten years of soldiering.”
“So, have you no care for the future of Eskazor? Is money your only motivation?”
There was an uneasy silence as the men glanced at each other then dropped their eyes. After a few moments, Rorlan looked up and said, “There is no one worth following. There is no future for Eskuzor. The king plays games with his brother, using people as pawns. Soon they will be encamped on opposite sides of the kingdom, preparing their forces to fight each other in futile battles that will leave hundreds maimed or dead, and farmlands destroyed. While Jarand is alive, Kosar cannot rule.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I doubt whether Kosar knows how to rule anyway. His mind has no concept or care for the needs of the people.”
Tarkyn began to pace back and forth again, sweeping his hand distractedly through his long black hair. He stopped again before the two men and sat down as abruptly as he had stood, “I am more sorry than I can say to hear of the state of Eskuzor and to know that my brothers are bringing such despair and ruin to her. I am also sorry to find people like you with nothing left to believe in. I do not take that as a fault in you but more as a failure in my brother to protect the nation as he should.” He shook his head despondently, “Danton, I don’t think I will be able to stand by and let this continue. I don’t yet know what I can do to stop it but I cannot allow them to destroy Eskuzor.” He heaved a sigh and focused once more on the two men before him, “And as for you two…”
Although the men tensed waiting to hear their fate, they could deal better with the prince’s natural manner than his previous dreadful, silky courtesy.
“We will leave your hands tied but other than that, you are free to go. You must not attempt to free yourselves until you reach the encampment. You will be monitored all the way back. If you attempt to untie your hands, you will be knocked out again and re-bound. We will not allow you to reunite with the rest of your party or with your horses. I will send a short letter with you to reiterate my position.”
The two sorcerers frowned. “Is that it?” asked Mandron. “No whippings? No beating? No breaking of bones?”
Tarkyn gave a slight smile, “I did think vaguely of breaking your right arms to incapacitate you for a month or so, but I think you will find this difficult enough. It is a long way back to the encampment and walking with your hands tied behind your back is not easy, especially through thick forest. Then there are the logistics of eating and hygiene to consider.” He shook his head, “No, I don’t think you will find this easy at all but you will be whole and alive when you reach the other end.”
The two men’s faces lit up, “Thank you, my lord,” they said in chorus.
Tarkyn gave a grunt of laughter, “I don’t think you’ll be thanking me by this time tomorrow. Danton, give them another drink while I organise this letter. Then they and we can be on our way.”
Chapter 42
“Where is Midnight?”
Everyone was packed and on the move, tracks and signs of the firesite removed, an operation considerably trickier in muddy conditions. They were travelling at ground level once more, having decided that the threat of Journeyman and his sorcerers had been contained. But still there was no sign of Midnight.
Tarkyn’s question hung in the late afternoon air, charged with the beginnings of real alarm. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked around. A silent conference provided no new information.
Tarkyn threw his hands up, “We can’t leave without him. Where has that little rascal got to? Who saw him last?”
“I last saw him when he plaited my beard,” offered Bean.
“That was hours ago, well at least three hours ago,” replied Tarkyn. “Anyone else?”
Danton walked up to Tarkyn and put a steadying hand on the prince’s arm, “Use your mind. Look for his mind. Even if he doesn’t respond to your call, you should be able to find him.”
Tarkyn pulled himself together, took a deep breath and centred himself. He placed his hand on Danton’s shoulder before closing his eyes and sending his mind roaming out through the forest. Nothing. He sent his mind higher, up into the mountains until he was sure he was further than Midnight could have run, but still he detected no sign of the little boy’s mind. He jerked back into his present surroundings.
“Stormaway, Danton, Waterstone, Autumn Leaves, String and Bean and anyone else who can spare the time, we have to work this out. Help me. Why can’t I find his mind?”
They pulled off into a fall of rocks beside the path to sit and talk.
“He’s either unconscious or asleep,” replied Waterstone shortly.
Tarkyn’s eyes widened with shock. He glanced around to see who might be listening, “You don’t think… How can we tell if the mountainfolk are holding to their oath?”
“It’s difficult,” Autumn Leaves pulled out a long stem of grass and began to suck on the end of it as he thought. After a few moments, he said, “If we ask them where Midnight is, we might be able to work out who is not responding and keeping their minds closed off. What do you think, Waterstone?”
“Possibly. But I don’t think we know them well enough to remember everyone. We would need to enlist some help.”
“I think I trust Dry Berry,” said Tarkyn. “What do you think?”
“First tell me about this curse,” said Stormaway. “It may have a bearing on what is happening.”
String and Bean looked at each other before Bean replied, “As Midnight’s father died, he muttered some words.” He shrugged “Neither of us understood them but we have tried our best to remember them.”
Stormaway nodded his head impatiently, “Yes, yes, I know all that. Come on. Out with it man! What were the words?”
Bean glanced at String, took a deep breath and recited, “Choidayarorshara. Rorsharatayahagarztayadorisolzormatara.”
Stormaway looked grim but made no immediate response
After a minute or two, String asked, “So, do you know what it means?”
The wizard waved his hand impatiently, “Yes, of course I do. Give me time to think!”
After a couple of minutes, Stormaway stood up abruptly and turned to walk away, muttering, “It’s no good. I will need to confer with my books.”
“Stormaway,” said Tarkyn more sharply than he intended, “Before you go, tell us what it means.”
“Tarkyn, time is of the essence for your little Midnight and the mountainfolk.” He sighed, “But I can see you cannot contain yourselves. The words mean, ‘This child will breed resentment. From resentment will spring hatred. And hatred will slowly destroy the souls, integrity, spirit something like that, of the people of this child’s mother.’” He glanced around at the stunned faces, “Do nothing until I return.” With that, he whirled around and strode off to consult his books.
“Summer Rain was right,” said Autumn Leaves slowly, “There is an evil loose among the mountainfolk.”
“And it has been festering slowly for seven years,” added Waterstone.
“I wonder if the process sped up once Midnight was forced to reside with them fulltime?” mused Danton.
Tarkyn groaned, “On my life, I hope killing Midnight is not the way to lift the curse. I don’t think I could bear that.”
“What if his one death would save hundreds of mountainfolk?” asked Waterstone.
Tarkyn stared at him, then slowly shook his head, “No. No, I couldn’t do it. I know a prince should make hard decisions to preserve the welfare of his people, but I couldn’t do it to him. I would have to find another way, even if it meant taking Midnight far away.”
“Even if it meant abandoning your oath to protect us?”
Tarkyn stood up and began to pace up and down, “I begin to see how invidious this curse is. Whatever I answer, I stand condemned. Either I would betray my oath to you and sanction the destruction of hundreds of your,our ki
n, or I would be prepared to kill an innocent, abused child.” He shook his head slowly. “Don’t do this to me, Waterstone.”
“I think we had better just sit tight without any further discussion until Stormaway comes back,” said Bean.
“Yeah, true. I think that’s the best idea,” put in String. “You never know, maybe this curse becomes stronger once it is revealed. Maybe it’s already affecting you.”
“Anyway, Sire,” added Bean, “I don’t see why you have to be stuck with the hard decisions. From what we saw before, you woodfolk make most of your own decisions. Why dump this one on His Highness?”
“Because from what Tarkyn just said, he would override our decision on this. And we couldn’t allow any mountainfolk to decide,” saidWaterstone firmly, “They already want Midnight dead because he’s half sorcerer.”
“Yeah, but that’s probably the curse talking, don’t you think?” asked String.
“Possibly,” Waterstone paused. “In fact, probably, now I come to think of it. All the more reason not to consult them. Judging by their recent actions against Tarkyn and the rest of us, I would say they are well on the way to being corrupted, some more than others.”
Danton followed Autumn Leaves’ suit and pulled up a tall stem of grass to suck on. “I wonder if the damage can be reversed or only halted?” He turned his gaze on Waterstone, “Then you would be faced with the dilemma of whether to kill off your corrupt kin if they continued to pose a threat to everyone else. And how would you decide who was so corrupted that they should die and who was tainted but manageable? Interesting, don’t you think?”
Much to everyone’s surprise, a smile dawned slowly on Waterstone’s face. “Danton, you are so loyal I can’t imagine how we ever doubted you. And clever. You have placed me beautifully on the horns of a hypothetical dilemma just like the one facing Tarkyn. Well done! I can only sit back and admire your cunning and devotion, and concede that we are all in a difficult position.” He leant over to Tarkyn and patted him on the knee, “In future, no more forcing people to make impossible choices. We will work through this together and support each other to protect what matters to them as best we can.”