The Wizard's Curse (Book 2)

by Jenny Ealey

  “I am TarkynTamadil, third son of King Markazon.”

  Pipeless looked him up and down, “You’re well grown for twelve years old.”

  Despite the gravity of the situation, Tarkyn couldn’t help smiling, “Nevertheless, I am who I say I am.” He paused then added with a deliberate note of hauteur, “And I am still waiting.”

  Then to everyone’s amazement, the enormous, frightening wizard bowed low. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness, for attacking you. The last few minutes have been rather confusing.” When he straightened, his fearsome blue eyes swept around the gathered woodfolk and narrowed, “And who are all these people?”

  “Hi Pipeless, you know me,” said Bean casually, “Do you like my beard? Your son did that, you know.”

  The wizard’s eyes swivelled down to stare at the trapper. “My son? I have no son.”

  “Yes you do,” said Tarkyn, “The world has moved on. Your son is seven years old.”

  The deep breathy voice sounded uncertain, “Why has the world moved on? What has happened? Why is everyone so short?”

  The prince grimaced, “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. The pain in your chest comes from a lethal knife blow dealt you by Hail. You are dead and have been for seven years. I drew you back from within the earth and the woodlands. I can only hold you together for a short time. When I let go, you will flow back into the earth and the trees.”

  “And we are not short,” added Stormaway. “I think Tarkyn has not managed to concentrate you completely back to what you were. So you are taking up more space.”

  The huge, misty wizard frowned as he tried to remember and to work out what had happened. Slowly, as they watched, his face suffused, not with anger but with shame. He lifted his hands and buried his face in them.

  “Why have you brought me back?” came his voice, muffled by his hands, “To stand in judgement on me?”

  “No, Hail passed judgement on you long ago,” said Tarkyn calmly, “But if you remember, as you died, you uttered a curse on your son and on all of his mother’s people.”

  Pipeless dropped his hands and stared at the prince. After a long unnerving pause, he said, “I did not think. I was hurt and angry. I realise, now you say that I have a son, that I have condemned my own child.” He wiped his hand across his brow, “It was a terrible curse, wasn’t it?” He let out a slow wheezy breath, “And I would not have wanted Hail’s people hurt either. But I died, didn’t I? So I didn’t have time to calm down and retract it.” He looked around. “Are these all Hail’s people?” When Tarkyn nodded, he asked, “And where is my son? Has he suffered?”

  Tarkyn pointed to Midnight who was standing between Rainstorm and Lapping Water within Stormaway’s shield. “Yes, he has suffered a great deal. But your friends, String and Bean have stood by him over the years and done what they could and recently, I have met him and will look after him from now on. He is a fine young woodman and a fine young sorcerer. He is deaf but I can exchange mental images with him so he is no longer isolated.” He turned back to the dead wizard, “He is a son to be proud of. And he is willing, despite all they have done to him, to help Hail’s people to break free of your curse.” Tarkyn paused, “But only you can free your son.”

  Pipeless stared at Midnight, drinking in every detail of him. Lapping Water’s and Rainstorm’s hands tightened on the little boy’s shoulders as he tensed up under scrutiny. Tarkyn sent him waves of reassurance and smiled at him.

  Pipeless glanced uncertainly at Stormaway, “You know you will have to drop your shield if I am to revoke the curse?”

  Stormaway in turn glanced at Tarkyn, “Your Highness?”

  Tarkyn faced the huge wizard, “Pipeless, look at me.” When he had the dead man’s attention, he continued, “Do I have your word that you will hurt none of these people?”

  “Yes, Your Highness. I have nothing left to give you as surety, since my life and honour are already lost but only at the very end was I a violent man. I am glad that you have given me the chance to repair the damage I have wrought.”

  As Tarkyn nodded his approval, Stormaway waved away his shield. Immediately, Midnight ran towards the shade with his arms out in front of him. Stormaway moved to intervene but Tarkyn stopped him with a gesture. The huge, misty wizard squatted down. When Midnight reached him and threw his arms around his waist, his father put an awkward arm around the little boy and patted him gingerly on the back. Then he placed his other hand on the boy’s head and intoned, “Choidayarorsharanualla. Rorsharatayahagarznuallatayadorisolnuallazormatara.” A soft deep blue flowed from beneath the wizard’s hand, not the red that Tarkyn had imagined, and slowly swirled around Midnight. Then the blue spiral gathered force and spun upwards before flowing through the night air towards the gathered mountainfolk.

  “Danton, remove your shield!” ordered Tarkyn.

  As the aqua shield winked out, the flow of deep blue power spiralled above the mountainfolk, slowly spreading out until it covered all of them. Then it whirled gradually down into their midst, almost obscuring them from view.

  Pipeless looked at Tarkyn, “I can only remove the curse from here forwards. My son must repair the damage it has already caused.”

  “I know. I have explained to Midnight what he must do. Since he is with you, you must support him. It will not be easy for him.”

  Then Tarkyn instructed Midnight to let his father go and to turn around, so that he was facing the mountainfolk. Reluctantly, the little woodman sorcerer let go of his newly found father and, drawing in a deep breath, turned around. He glanced at Tarkyn and put his hand over his heart. Tarkyn returned the gesture and for a moment they just looked at each other.

  Then Midnight exhaled and, with his father’s arm around his waist holding him from behind, he flung his arms wide and sent forth, through Tarkyn, all his memories of his time with his mother and the mountainfolk. As each memory hit the people involved, the blue haze around them sizzled and crackled as their own warped memory of the event was challenged and destroyed. The blue around Hail was constantly fizzing and popping as memory after memory of Midnight’s hit her. By the time the fizzing and crackling had slowed down and stopped, Midnight was quivering all over and only his father’s arm kept his knees from buckling under him.

  Then slowly, the soft, deep blue swirls lifted lazily from amongst the mountainfolk and curled up and over them to stream back towards Midnight. Gradually he was bathed in a strong, deep blue light and as it warmed him, he began to really understand what the curse had done, both to him and to the mountainfolk. And once he understood, with his heart and his head, some of the tension left his body, his eyes lost their haunted look and he could see the mountainfolk more as he saw the home guard. But despite understanding, he could not fully forgive them for what they had done to him. And then, as he realised that the true source of his suffering was the strange misty wizard holding him, Midnight twisted out of his grip and ran to Tarkyn who swung him up into his arms and hugged him tight.

  Pipeless straightened up and towered once more above them. “I see he has worked it out,” he said sadly. “I thank you for looking after him, and you too, String and Bean. I am glad that woodfolk and sorcerers are beginning to live together. It was too soon for Hail and me.” He glanced speakingly at Lapping Water, the nearest woodwoman. “Perhaps you will do better in the future, Your Highness?”

  Tarkyn promptly turned brick red.

  The huge, misty wizard gave a grunt of amusement and turned to Hail who was standing far from him on the other side of the gathering, “And to you, Hail, nothing will repair what I have done but I am truly sorry.”

  Hail glared back at him, saying nothing.

  He shrugged, “She is wise not to trust me. I would no longer trust myself. But as I am not staying….” He turned to Tarkyn, “How much longer do I have?”

  “It is straining me to keep you here now. Midnight, say goodbye.” Tarkyn matched images to words but with a hint of compulsion. He did not want Midnight to reg
ret missing his last chance.

  Midnight looked up at his huge looming father and waved half-heartedly. As the wizard waved back, he began to melt into the ground starting at the feet and moving upwards. Before their eyes, he sank and dissipated, flowing outward into the earth around him until he was lost from sight.

  For a long time, no one spoke. The mountainfolk were coming to terms with their past treatment of Midnight and everyone was still stunned by the apparition they had all witnessed and survived.

  For a while there was silence but gradually, far in the distance could be heard the sound of the wind brushing through the trees. As they listened, it drew closer until it rushed up through the pines on the mountainside and blasted across the clearing through the people gathered there. It was so strong that it nearly blew out the great fire in the middle of the gathering. Then it was gone as suddenly as it came and a silent detonation shook the ground beneath their feet. Everyone exchanged glances.

  “Was that the aftermath of Pipeless returning to the forest?” asked Rainstorm quietly.

  Stormaway shook his head. “No. I’m afraid not.” He grimaced and unconsciously drew his cloak around him, “That was the sound of the oath binding the honour of you people gathered here, to the welfare of the forest.”

  “Oh no, not again. Not more resentment,” murmured Rainstorm, glancing at the prince. “Don’t worry Tarkyn, we are here to support you.”

  Tarkyn met his eyes briefly but his face, already white with fatigue, was stiff with tension. He stood holding Midnight, rigidly awaiting the reactions of the mountainfolk and the independently minded trappers.

  Dry Berry stomped up and stood, arms on hips, in front of Tarkyn. “Young man, stop looking so worried. I don’t think there is a man, woman or child among us who doesn’t owe their future to you. You have looked a dead man in the face and bent him to your will to save us all. Most of us have already sworn an oath to you on our honour. We will keep our word. Despite having to fight against the curse we, as a group of mountainfolk, have managed to hold true, even if some amongst us struggled. The forest’s welfare is safe with us and so are you.” Suddenly she smiled, “In fact it is an honour that the sorcery in the oath now includes us. We must now be a reasonably safe bet.”

  Tarkyn managed a tired smile.

  Dry Berry cackled, “Come one. Come and sit down, and have something to drink before you drop. Your little wood sorcerer has gone to sleep so I won’t offer him anything but I think we all have a lot to make up to him, if he’ll let us.”

  Part 9: The Rest Day

  Chapter 46

  Early the next morning, at that time when children wake up full of energy and adults yearn to sleep on, Midnight landed with a thump on top of a sleeping, weary Tarkyn. Tarkyn opened one eye and raised enough energy to suggest that Midnight head off to find Thunder Storm, Lapping Water or Rainstorm. By the time Midnight looked hesitant, Tarkyn was already asleep again. Midnight eyed him for a few minutes, deciding whether to jump up and down on him again. Then he thought about it and realised that Tarkyn didn’t usually fob him off onto other people. He peered closer and realised that the prince was very soundly asleep. On balance, he decided to leave Tarkyn and venture outside on his own.

  When he pulled back the brush screening and crawled outside, the little wood sorcerer found himself surrounded by an array of dishes full of carefully chosen berries, dried fruits, cheeses, bite-size pieces of venison, soft, freshly baked bread rolls and a variety of fruit juices. His eyes widened and he looked longingly at them all, but he was not about to start a new day by being accused of stealing a special feast prepared for Tarkyn. So he repressed his hunger and threaded his way past the dishes out into the clearing.

  Despite the early hour, the mountainfolk, young and old, were waiting for him. Finding himself surrounded, Midnight panicked and tried to flick into hiding, but a firm grip on each of his shoulders prevented him. He thrashed wildly from side to side only to find Lapping Water and Rainstorm smiling reassuringly at him. When he pulled himself together and turned back to the mountainfolk, he realised that everyone was smiling and welcoming him.

  The diminutive figure of Dry Berry came forward and led Midnight back to the plates of food, pointing at him and then at the food. In response, Midnight pointed at the food and then at Tarkyn’s shelter with a look of query. Dry Berry shook her head and reiterated that the special foods were all for him.

  In a daze, he sat down within the ring of platters and looked around at everyone, frowning uncertainly. Rainstorm and Lapping Water sat on either side of him to keep him feeling safe. After a minute, he tentatively reached for a soft doughy roll, expecting at any moment to have his hand slapped away. When he was sure that he really could help himself to whatever he liked, he reached for more rolls and offered them with a hesitant smile to Rainstorm and Lapping Water. Then he gestured for all the watching mountainfolk to help themselves, before burying his face self-consciously in Lapping Waters’ shoulder.

  Dry Berry smiled down at him, “He really is such a kind little boy.” She shook her head, “That curse was so cruel.”

  Lapping Water gently pulled Midnight’s head away from her shoulder and handed him a strawberry to give him something to look at, other than the ring of faces around him. During the next half hour, as he sat eating with Rainstorm and Lapping Water, every member of the mountainfolk walked up to him and tousled his hair, patted him on the arm or simply caught his eye to signal their friendship. No sorcerers were in sight. It was purely a woodfolk gesture to welcome Midnight back into the fold and to thank him for his part in dismantling the curse. Only Hail was conspicuous by her absence but if Midnight noticed, he gave no indication.

  Chapter 47

  The dawn gave way to a bright, clear morning; a morning deserved by the celebration of the mountainfolk’s release from the curse. The atmosphere around the firesite was relaxed and cheerful. No longer was there any sense of distance between the mountainfolk and the home guard. The woodfolk were once more a united people.

  Only now were they enjoying each other’s company as they would normally expect to, and because of this, the home guard had decided to postpone their departure until early the following day.

  At eight o’clock, Rainstorm popped his head into Tarkyn’s shelter to let him know who the next lookouts would be and where they would be stationed. Tarkyn barely registered the information, and merely grunted, before rolling over and going back to sleep.

  In the middle of the morning, Tarkyn finally emerged, feeling drained. As soon as he appeared, Midnight dropped what he was doing and rushed over, full of excited images of his special breakfast and of him playing with the other kids. He launched himself up into Tarkyn’s arms, flung his arms around his neck and gave him a big hug. Tarkyn hugged him in return but moments later Midnight pulled away, jumped down and rushed off again. Tarkyn smiled after him for a few moments before ambling down to splash his face at the small stream that ran through the coarse grass of the hillside. The water did little to revive him and he was soon snoozing again, this time on a grassy spot next to the stream. He dozed away, occasionally stirring himself enough to prop himself up on one elbow to watch the kids playing with Midnight before drifting off again. Interestingly no one, not even Midnight, came near him for the rest of the morning.

  Midnight and the other children were having a marvellous time playing with the little wood sorcerer’s new shield. He would raise the glowing dark green haze around himself and they would run and throw themselves against it. Then he placed the shield around all of them and they would try to crawl out from underneath. The children were fascinated by it and spent a long time, inside and out, running their hands along its surface and peering through it to see how everything looked with a dark green tinge to it.

  Further away, a group of young woodfolk including Rainstorm, Lapping Water and North Wind were gathered, chatting and laughing. Tarkyn would have liked to join them but couldn’t raise the energy. So he lay back and ju
st watched them from where he was.

  The attack, when it came, was two-pronged and carefully orchestrated by Ancient Oak and Rainstorm.

  At noon, Ancient Oak wandered past Tarkyn, told him the names of the new set of lookouts who were taking over the watch and mentioned that two of them would be changing position so that they wouldn’t be looking directly into the sun. A faint frown flickered across Tarkyn’s face but he was too tired to concentrate properly. He nodded and closed his eyes again.

  A short time later, Ancient Oak returned bearing one of Summer Rain’s hideous tasting tonics, two steaming cups of tea and some soft rolls filled with meat and cheese. He sat down next to Tarkyn and having placed their lunch carefully on the lumpy grassy bank, prodded his adoptive brother firmly in the ribs.

  “Come on, Sleepy Head. We’ve left you alone for long enough. If you’re still tired now, I’m afraid I’m going to have to force this tonic down you.”

  Tarkyn groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes and pushing his hair back off his face. “Oh no! How to ruin a perfect morning.” He yawned, “Oh stars! I can’t believe how tired I am.” He gave a wry smile, “Go on then. Give it to me.” He took the proffered drink and slugged it down. “Aagh, that’s awful!” he said with a grimace and a shudder, “How does she do it?”

  Ancient Oak grinned. “Years of practice.” He frowned as he studied Tarkyn, “Are you all right? You don’t look too good.”

  For an answer, Tarkyn flopped back down and then propped himself up on one elbow. “I’m fine, I think. I’m just bone weary.”

  “It’s been a taxing few days, one way and another.” Ancient Oak handed Tarkyn his cup of tea and a roll. He considered him for a few moments before saying, “I’m proud of you, little brother. Do you know that? What you did last night took enormous courage. I’m not surprised you’re tired.”

  Tarkyn looked at him curiously and frowned in thought as he sipped his tea. Eventually he smiled.