The Wizard's Curse (Book 2)

by Jenny Ealey

  “So, no go, I gather,” said Rainstorm. “It was a long shot at best. How did you go trying to explain it all to him?”

  “Pretty poorly, all in all,” replied Tarkyn, grimacing. “I nearly lost him altogether when he thought I was telling him that I believed in the mountainfolk so therefore not in him.”

  “Oh, whoops!” Rainstorm looked across at Ancient Oak, “Is that how you come to be sporting a swollen cheek?”

  Ancient Oak merely grinned and raised his eyebrows.

  “Go on, what else?” asked Rainstorm who had come to know Ancient Oak well over the last few weeks.

  “Ooh, just the odd bruise and abrasion here and there. He’s a savage little fighter, once he gets going.” He glanced at Tarkyn, “And one doesn’t like to knock him out. After all, we were trying to have a conversation with him. Can’t do that if he’s unconscious. Tarkyn ended up having to do hisshturrum thing. Always interesting to be stopped dead in one’s tracks, I find.”

  “Did you cop it too?” chortled Rainstorm.

  “I was holding Midnight at the time.”

  Tarkyn laughed, “Sorry, Ancient Oak. I did try to catch your eye but you were rather busy, as I recall.”

  Tarkyn was interrupted at this point by an insistent tugging on his sleeve. He looked down to see Midnight smiling up at him and nodding.

  Tarkyn frowned his puzzlement, “Yes, what?”

  Midnight sent him an image of himself helping the mountainfolk at Tarkyn’s request. Tarkyn eyes bugged out of his head, “What? Are you sure?” He gestured to ask why he was saying ‘yes’ now when he had said ‘no’ before.

  Midnight shook his head, then pointed to Tarkyn and himself and then wrapped his hands around each other in his gesture for friends. This was followed by rapid series of gestures at the end of which everyone understood that because Tarkyn had stayed his friend when he said ‘no’, he had decided to do what the prince wanted.

  “Checking you out, in other words,” said Rainstorm dryly, “Waiting to see whether you would be true to your word about remaining his friend.”

  “Doesn’t know you very well yet then, does he?” observed Ancient Oak.

  Tarkyn just grinned, “He hasn’t had much to base trust on in his little life. He is wise to make sure.” He tousled Midnight’s hair, “Aren’t you, rascal?”

  Chapter 44

  Stormaway paced up and down, running his hand distractedly through his hair and looking more upset than Tarkyn had ever seen him. He stopped his pacing and turned to the prince.

  “Tarkyn, I have struck a problem.” The prince said nothing, simply waiting for the wizard to continue, “Only the direct descendant of the curser can lift the curse.”

  Tarkyn nodded, “Yes, that’s what you told us before.”

  “But no one can lift a curse from themselves.”

  “Oh, I see. So, Midnight is the only person who can lift the curse but also the person from which it needs to be lifted. Yes, that is a bit of a problem, isn’t it?” Tarkyn folded his arms, “Pity you didn’t think of this a while ago, before we went through all the drama of talking the poor little kid into it

  “Oh don’t worry. We still need him. Once Midnight is free of the curse, he in turn must release the mountainfolk from the damage it’s done.”

  “Except that we can’t release him from it.”

  It was a sign of the stress that Stormaway was under, that he waved the prince’s remark impatiently aside and returned to his pacing.

  After several minutes, a long time in the young prince’s life, Tarkyn asked, “Is there not perhaps a hierarchy of wizards so that a higher ranked wizard can overturn the spell of a lower ranked one?”

  Stormaway shook his head, “No. There are greater and lesser wizards, of course, but they do not hold jurisdiction over each other. A wizard is subject to the laws of the land, the same as everyone else. So they should obey their liege lord to overturn a spell if requested. But no guarantee, of course.”

  “But that is still the wizard himself who would overturn the spell, isn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Tarkyn frowned, “So, once a person is dead, their spell can live on forever and if it’s destructive like this one, it can cause misery until all the people it affects have died.”

  Stormaway stopped pacing and looked hard at Tarkyn, “Worse than that, in this case. It will be passed down the generations through Hail’s bloodline, turning the mountainfolk into a malicious, evil force within the forest. If they interbreed, the curse will spread throughout the woodfolk and create monsters of them all.”

  Suddenly Waterstone, Rainstorm, Ancient Oak, Dry Berry, Blizzard and Lapping Water were standing around them.

  “We cannot allow that to happen,” stated Waterstone unequivocally, quite unconcerned that it was clear that they had all been listening in.

  Dry Berry stood with her hands on her hips. “Young man,” she said severely to Tarkyn, “I am expecting you to sort this out. A sorcerer caused it and a sorcerer must repair it. You have vowed to protect us. You must find a way.”

  Tarkyn threw his hands up, feeling beset on all sides. “I am trying. Don’t attack me. Help me. Help Stormaway to come up with ideas.”

  “We are not attacking you, Tarkyn. We are very worried, though” came Lapping Water’s gentle voice. “We can’t leave the mountainfolk until they are released from the curse. Their trouble is our trouble. We are, in the end, all one people.”

  Despite his wish to help them, Tarkyn resented being told, with no consultation, that the home guard wouldn’t leave. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered what would happen if he ordered them to continue their journey.

  Part of this must have showed on his face because Rainstorm placed his hand on Tarkyn’s arm and said, “From what Stormaway has said, you too know that we couldn’t leave this behind unresolved. It’s too dangerous, isn’t it?”

  Tarkyn’s eyes crinkled in appreciation of Rainstorm’s support. He let out a breath, “Yes. I do know that. We must find a way to revoke it.”

  Rainstorm hesitated for a moment while he marshalled his thoughts. Then he lifted his eyes to hold Tarkyn’s gaze, “Tarkyn, you are a guardian of the forest. The guardian of the forest has always appeared to help us through a time of great need. I can think of no greater need than this; to prevent the perversion of our whole nation. So…” He took a slow breath, “So, what can a guardian of the forest do, above and beyond other people, that will save us?”

  Stormaway’s eyebrows snapped together, “You are right, young man. I think your question may hold the key to the answer.” He waved a hand and wheeled around to resume his pacing, “Let me think.”

  After several minutes, during which Tarkyn and the woodfolk stood and watched in silence, Stormaway snapped his fingers and whirled around to face them. “I think I have the answer.” He grimaced, “When I say I have the answer, it is fairly radical. I need to check through my books. I think it has been done once before but the outcome in that instance was not ideal.”

  “When you say ‘not ideal’, what exactly do you mean?” asked Tarkyn.

  “Hmm. A score of woodfolk were killed before they realised the danger.”

  “Oh come on, Stormaway!” exclaimed Tarkyn impatiently, “We can’t have woodfolk being killed. You’ll have to think of something else.”

  Waterstone intervened, “You said ‘before they realised the danger.’ Does that mean that if we are forewarned, we may be able to protect ourselves?”

  Stormaway thought for a moment, “Yes, I think so. But we are dealing with forces beyond the normal realm so I can’t guarantee it.”

  “Old man, why don’t you just tell us what you’ve thought of and let us decide for ourselves?” snapped Dry Berry.

  Stormaway huffed, “You are all so impatient. I would prefer to look up my books first and be more sure of my facts.”

  “Live with it,” said Rainstorm shortly.

  Stormaway sighed and gave in,
“Very well. To be honest, there’s not much more in my books anyway. It’s more that I’m nervous about the idea.”

  “You are not reassuring me,” murmured Tarkyn.

  “I didn’t say this would be easy.” The old wizard drew a breath, “So, let me give you a bit of background first. When a person dies, their whole being, body and soul, gradually dissipates into their surroundings. You agree?” When everyone nodded, Stormaway continued, “Over time, natural forces, heat, cold, wind, water, spread the elements that were once a person into the soil, down streams and rivers to distant places and even to the sea. From the soil and water, parts of a person move into trees and plants and from there into animals and people.” They nodded again, keeping their eyes on Stormaway. “So, after seven years, there will be a lot of Pipeless still within the forest, in fact most of him. Quite a bit may have dissipated into the soil and the trees but very little will have made its way beyond the forest’s borders.”

  Tarkyn frowned, “I’m not sure that I like where this is going.”

  Stormaway ignored him and kept speaking, “So. The forest guardian has a unique connection with the forest and can draw power from it.” Now he looked at Tarkyn, “He can also draw forth from the forest all the elements that were once a person and bring them back together into one place. For a short time, you can resurrect Pipeless. Long enough for him to revoke his curse.”

  There was a horrified silence. Slowly all eyes turned to a white-faced Tarkyn. “But that is necromancy, Stormaway,” he breathed. “I have always been told that necromancy is evil and produces excessive, ungovernable power.”

  Stormaway chuckled, “Don’t believe everything you’re told, Tarkyn. No one can actually use necromancy although many have tried. It’s just a wizard’s tale spread to raise wizards’ mystique among sorcerers.”

  “Oh.” The young sorcerer looked a little embarrassed, but after a moment his brow furrowed, “But you just finished telling us that this had been done before.”

  “Yes, but only by a forest guardian, not by your run-of-the mill wizards or sorcerers who would have been the ones spreading the dire tales of necromancy.”

  Tarkyn glanced around the faces of the woodfolk before asking, “And if I agree to attempt this, what control will I have over Pipeless when he appears? And what powers will he have? Will he be more powerful than he was in life?”

  “You will have no control over him, except to release your hold on his elements and dissipate him again. He will have the same powers he had in life, possibly less because not all of him will be there.”

  “So he could strike out at us,” said Waterstone.

  Stormaway nodded, “Yes, he could. That is what happened last time this was attempted. So we will need to make sure that everyone is shielded.”

  Dry Berry huffed, “How do you know your shields will work against the powers of a shade?”

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows, “Stormaway?”

  The old wizard grimaced, “We have so little knowledge about this, but I don’t think his power will have changed. He will still be who he was. And I can’t see how he could gather more power when he has been quiescent for so long. He hasn’t been an entity for seven years. How then, could he have become more powerful?”

  “What if his parts bring some of the forest’s power with them when he reassembles?” asked Rainstorm.

  Stormaway glanced at him, “That’s possible, I suppose. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Tarkyn considered it and shook his head, “Iknow the forest.” Interestingly, this statement was true even though in many ways the woodfolk knew it much better than he did. “It has great power but it is not available to just anyone. As you know, the forest protects its own. I don’t think it would allow its power to leech into someone so uncertain.”

  “And what mood will this shade be in?” asked Dry Berry. “Will he still be as vengeful as he was at the end of his life? Or will he have mellowed over time?”

  Stormaway shook his head, “I don’t know. I can’t see that he would have had time to reflect and mellow because he has been dead, not lying around thinking. My best guess is that he will return as he left, angry and vengeful.”

  “Oh good,” said Tarkyn in a small voice. “So, that’s something to look forward to.”

  Ancient Oak smiled at him and patted him on the arm, “Never mind. You’ve had practice in dealing with his son. Maybe that will hold you in good stead.”

  Tarkyn sent him a wry glance, “Slight difference in size, power and experience.”

  “But you’ll do it though, won’t you?” Ancient Oak grinned at him, confident of the answer.

  A slow smile dawned on Tarkyn’s tense face as he let out a long sigh, “If that is what you all wish me to do, then I will.”

  Chapter 45

  The moon was riding high in the black sky, occasional thin clouds scudding over its face. The wind had died down but a restless breeze wafted across the side of the mountain sending icy threads of air winding among the gathered woodfolk. An aqua haze surrounded the main body of the woodfolk emanating from Danton who was sitting a little to one side, with Sparrow next to him, to make sure he stayed focussed.

  In front of the assembled woodfolk stood Midnight, within a horseshoe of String and Bean, Waterstone, Ancient Oak, Rainstorm and Lapping Water. Stormaway stood with them, keeping them safe within his bright green shield.

  Everyone was faced towards Tarkyn, watching as he sat with his eyes closed and his hand pressed against the trunk of a gnarled old yew tree that had been bent over and twisted by years of withstanding prevailing winds and gales. Because he was drawing the essence of Pipeless up through the tree, he couldn’t break contact with it by raising his shield. So he alone was unprotected and because of this, despite emphatic protests, he had refused all offers of support and assistance.

  Tarkyn sent his senses travelling down into the gravesite at his feet. He kept in his mind the kinder pictures of Pipeless that Hail had given him. His mind baulked at the images of Pipeless attacking the woodwoman and he could not use them to focus his attention on summoning the dead sorcerer. He merged Hail’s memories of Pipeless with the remaining bones that were still buried in the ground. When he had created a sense of the wizard, body and soul, he merged himself slowly with the forest.

  He wished desperately for Waterstone’s hand on his shoulder as he began to lose his sense of self but now he had to deal with his decision to work alone. He took a deep breath to fight down the panic and let himself flow through the yew into the mountain and from there, into the grasses and shrubs on the side of the mountain, and then on down into the woodlands and streams in the foothills below. He lost all sense of the cold night or the people watching him. As he flowed through the woodlands he kept the image of Pipeless strongly in his mind, using it as a magnet to draw any particles of the dead wizard back towards him. Slowly he gathered together everything he could find and drew it gradually back up the mountainside.

  As he approached his point of departure, the sense of Pipeless became stronger and more palpable. Tarkyn could feel the tight, withdrawn personality of the man, laced with yearning, hurt and anger all around him. The closer he came to his own body, the more concentrated became the sense of Pipeless, entwined with his own ranging spirit. Before he returned, Tarkyn knew he had to separate himself from what was left of the wizard. He tried to draw on his own sense of himself but he was too dissipated to have a centre left to focus on.

  Suddenly, far away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He vaguely wondered who had overridden his order and whether the forest was endangered. But with the external contact on his body, he was able to find his own essence and disentangle himself from Pipeless. With a sudden rush, Tarkyn catapulted out of the old yew to land in his body in the cold night air, throwing his hands forward as he did so, to thrust Pipeless out of him.

  Dropping his arms to his sides, he opened his eyes to find himself confronting a ten foot high wizard, opaque but misty, as though he wer
e slightly out of focus. Below the giant’s ribcage was a horizontal slit where Hail’s knife had driven home. The huge man’s face was contorted with rage and pain. Tarkyn’s heart thumped so much, it felt as if it might jump out of his throat. He scrambled to his feet, keeping his focus on holding the elements of Pipeless together in front of him. With another part of his mind, he threw up his shield, glancing sideways to see whose hand had guided him back. His eyes met those of Bean’s.

  “I guess I can endure another tongue-lashing if I have to,” whispered the trapper.

  Tarkyn was too dazed to even understand the inference. He returned his attention to the spectre in front of him. The huge wizard’s burning blue eyes glowered down at him, blinking as he tried to work out what had happened. Then his rage reasserted itself and the fearsome wizard flicked his arm, albeit a little clumsily and roared, “Fierspa!” A blast of fiery power speared towards Tarkyn.

  Despite his shield, Tarkyn flinched and ducked, but the fireball spread harmlessly around the outside of the shield before burning out, leaving the two of them unscathed.

  Tarkyn straightened and tried to speak but only produced a dry squeak. He cleared his throat and managed to get out, “Pipeless, I am Tarkyn Tamadil, third son of King Markazon, and your liege lord within the forest.”

  The wizard took no notice of what he had said, frowned down at him and roared, “Where did you suddenly spring from? And where is Hail?” His voice sounded deep and breathy, but a clear note of panic underlay his anger. His questions came out slowly as though it was an effort to form the words.

  Tarkyn squared his shoulders and spoke more loudly, with a firm assurance that he did not feel, “Pipeless, I tell you again, I am your liege lord. I await your obeisance.”

  The wizard scowled furiously, but his bewilderment was dissipating his anger. A frown of confusion appeared on his brow, “Who did you say you were?”