The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (33 page)

Waterstone’s face relaxed into a smile. “I think, since you are the biggest issue that has been around for quite some time, it is almost inevitable that if it’s going to go wrong, it will go wrong over you.”

“Blast it, Waterstone. That is so unfair.”

Waterstone raised his eyebrows, “I don’t remember when there was anything fair about this situation.”

“True. Point taken.” Tarkyn sighed, “So what am I going to do about having to endure the company of these hypocritical rabble-rousers?”

“I don’t know. You’re the expert on crowds. I remember you telling us all how fickle crowds can be… and that was on a day that they were being nice to you.”

The prince’s eyes narrowed, “Yes, I have a great wariness of crowds… which yesterday’s effort has just strengthened. They exist above and beyond the individuals. They are maverick and dangerous; one minute cheering your victory, the next minute glorying in your defeat. And then they dissolve and all that passion and venom dissipates. A few still maintain it away from the crowd but most just shake themselves and leave it all behind them.”

“So that’s what happened yesterday. They all gloried in your pain but now they have gone back to being themselves.”

“…until the next time.” Tarkyn frowned, “And the fact that they are now acting as individuals does not excuse the behaviour they indulged in as part of a crowd.”

“Oh no. It most certainly doesn’t,” said Waterstone severely. “It will be a long time before I can trust the good intention of any of them.”

“Will it?” Tarkyn gave a surprised smile, “I’m glad to hear you say that. I thought you had all sorted out your relationship with each other in yesterday’s long discussion, and I was the only one left with any doubts.”

Waterstone frowned quizzically at him, “Why do you think I would put myself to the trouble of staying up all night if I trusted them?”

“Well, I thought maybe you were just doing it to reassure me.”

“Except that I did it regardless of whether you knew or not.”

“True. So you did.” Tarkyn frowned, “But then, what was gained from your long negotiations?”

Waterstone shrugged, “The semblance of unity among woodfolk. Th
e
intentio
n
of becoming as close as we once were. Their agreement to take an oath when you had just executed two of their kin. A greater understanding and acceptance of you and Danton. And our acceptance of their future good faith.” He stood up and took his cup to the stream to wash it out, “All of that took a great deal of work. Still, it is better by far to have a semblance of cooperation than to have out-and-out enmity. It might not be ideal, but the mountainfolk would make tough enemies.”

“So I am not the only one who does not feel easy around their firesite?” asked Tarkyn.

“I wouldn’t think so.” Waterstone shook his cup out and then filled it with water that was pouring in a small waterfall between two rocks. “Sure you don’t want some water?”

“Yes, I will. Thanks.” Tarkyn tipped out the last of his cold tea and tossed his cup to the woodman.

When he had handed Tarkyn his cup filled with icy water, Waterstone asked, “Will that make it any easier for you to endure, if you know others of us are not yet feeling comfortable with them?”

Tarkyn nodded, “Yes. Much. I thought I was alone in my mistrust.”

Waterstone looked at him for a few moments, “I know you caught the brunt of it but they did drug all of us too, you know. That doesn’t do much for trust levels.”

“Hmm, I suppose not.” Tarkyn thought for a moment, “How would you have felt if they had only hit me twice, as Dry Berry intended?”

“About you or us?”

“I don’t know. Both, I suppose.”

Waterstone’s eyes narrowed as he thought about it, “To be honest, I am loath to tell you until I know what you think.”

Tarkyn smiled wryly, “That can only mean you would have condoned it.”

“I could have lived with that a lot better than what actually happened.”

“Stop pussyfooting around. You think that would have been an acceptable way of finding out whether they were under oath or not, don’t you?”

Waterstone looked a little anxious, “All right, yes. I do. I could have accepted being drugged because they had to make sure we couldn’t intervene. And I could have accepted you being a little hurt to resolve the question.” He eyed Tarkyn, “Of course, then you would probably have felt obliged to kill them for attacking you, if Danton’s case is anything to go by. And that would have been unhelpful for future relationships.” He took a tense breath. “So what do you think?”

“Much the same as you actually, except that it would have depended on how hard they hit me whether I insisted on the death penalty or not. If it had clearly been only been an experiment, I probably would have overlooked it. If they had hit me as hard as those men did yesterday, that would have been inexcusable.”

Waterstone’s eyes widened, “So they were effectively dead even after only two hits yesterday?”

“Absolutely.” Tarkyn glowered at him. “Don’t start making judgements about something you didn’t see, or feel for that matter. They packed everything they had into those first two punches in case the forest was threatened and they had to stop.” Suddenly Tarkyn’s voice vibrated  with passion, “They were utter bastards, Waterstone, complete and  utter bastards.”

For a moment, Waterstone saw a flash of the rage that Tarkyn was keeping contained within himself, before he closed it off and stood up, shaking out his cup and saying in a completely different voice, “But they didn’t stop at two, did they? And so my decision was totally straight forward.” He glanced sideways at Waterstone and the woodman could see the rage still smouldering behind his eyes as he added in an unnervingly urbane voice, “I think I restrained myself very well in allowing them such a swift clean death. I could have used the eagles.”

As Tarkyn turned to walk back up the stream Waterstone, feeling jarred by the emotion he had just witnessed, called him back. “Tarkyn,” He waited until he had the prince’s full attention before he said, “Tarkyn, you deserve to feel such rage but no one, other than those two dead men, deserves to be on the other end of it.”

Tarkyn drilled him with his amber glare for long seconds. Then suddenly, he let out a long breath and relaxed. Waterstone breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“Waterstone, your courage never ceases to amaze me. Thank you for saying that. I will remember it.”

Part
6: Midnight

Chapter
26

As Tarkyn walked back around the bend in the stream, he found that the target practice had expanded to include several mountainfolk as well as members of his home guard. The minute he appeared, the talking and the laughter faltered and, for a moment, an awkward silence fell over the participants. Then Lapping Water extracted herself from the group and came over to him.

“Hello, Tarkyn,” she said, taking his arm and steering him towards the others, “Come and join us. Danton has managed to control his magic at least to the extent that he can leave larger rocks in place.” She smiled. “Smaller rocks are still too much of a challenge.”

Tarkyn flicked her a grateful glance, “Well, at least that’s better than this morning.”

“Hi prince,” said Rainstorm casually, “You’re looking better.”

Tarkyn nodded shortly, not really wishing to discuss it in front of the mountainfolk.

“And what about you, Waterstone? Going to join us?” asked Rainstorm, quickly moving the conversation on.

Waterstone smiled and shook his head, “Not at the moment. I need to spend a little time with young Sparrow. I’ll see you all later.”

Rainstorm returned his attention to the prince, “So, are you going to have a go, Tarkyn?”

Tarkyn smiled, “Maybe in a while. A crafty competitor always checks out his opposition first. So I’ll just watch for the time being and see if anyone else is as good as Thunder Storm.”

“What did Thunder Storm do that was so good?” asked a wiry woodman whom Tarkyn recognised as being one of the lookouts who had taken Danton, Summer Rain and Rainstorm captive yesterday. “My name is Rock Fall.”

Tarkyn inclined his head, “Pleased to meet you. Thunder Storm could make every stone rock gently without falling. But perhaps you can all do that? I found it extremely impressive.”

Rock Fall thought about it, “I think I could do that.”

“Go on then,” urged Tarkyn. “Let’s see how many people can replicate Thunder Storm’s feat.”

Rock Fall stepped up to the mark and carefully aimed his slingshot at the first stone. He sent a small pebble flying and, sure enough, the stone rocked gently back and forth but stayed where it was.

Rainstorm chortled, “Nice warm up, Rock Fall. But Thunder Storm can make all the stones rock at the same time.”

Rock Fall raised his eyebrows, “Can he? Tha
t
i
s
impressive.”

“And quickly. He had his slingshot back in his belt before they had stopped moving,” said Tarkyn.

“Right then,” Lapping Water stepped up to the mark, “That will give us something to live up to.” She sent a series of pebbles flying at the stones. Five out of seven rocked gently, one fell over and one didn’t move. “Blast! Nearly.”

Tarkyn smiled and shook his head, “Pretty good but I have to tell you that Thunder Storm was also faster, as well as more accurate.”

Lapping Water smiled up at him, “I’ll try to get it right at this speed first and then work on becoming faster.”

Tarkyn felt his heart miss a beat as he met her eyes but merely said, “Good idea.”

For the next hour or so, everyone took it in turns trying, without success, to replicate Thunder Storm’s feat. Tarkyn didn’t really want to join in because he didn’t want to appear better or worse than the people around him. Eventually though, the requests for him to take part could no longer be avoided.

“Magic or slingshot?” he asked.

“Magic,” came back the chorus.

“I’m glad you said that,” replied Tarkyn, “because I have only been using a slingshot properly since I came into the woods. It is not yet my weapon of choice.” He looked thoughtfully at the target, “There is only one sure way I can think of to come even close to Thunder Storm’s feat…..”

Tarkyn narrowed his eyes as he calculated and then sent a spear of bronze light hurtling towards the stump. The beam of magic hit the stump with a dull thwack and the vibrations of the stump set every stone on top rocking gently. Tarkyn withdrew his magic and waited, his eyes shining with laughter.

Sure enough, cries of protests and outrage, mainly from woodfolk of his home guard, broke out around him. When the mountainfolk saw his own woodfolk taking issue with him, a couple of them quietly lent their voice to the protests.

“That’s cheating,” roared Rainstorm.

Tarkyn laughed and threw his hands up in mock surrender, “No one said I had to hit the stones. We were just trying to make them rock …which I did.”

“But we were trying to replicate Thunder Storm’s feat,” pointed out Lapping Water.

Tarkyn smiled, “Yes but was it the method or the result that we were trying to replicate? After all, I wasn’t even using a slingshot so I couldn’t possibly replicate the method.”

Lapping Water frowned severely at him, but with a smile in her eyes. “You know perfectly well that wasn’t what we expected.”

He laughed, “You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it yourselves.”

The attention then turned to the question of whether the woodfolk and Danton could replicate Tarkyn’s method of rocking the stones. They soon discovered that it took considerable force to shake the stump but eventually, after a bit of experimenting, everyone achieved it to their satisfaction.

As they walked up the path towards the firesite, no one appeared to have noticed that Tarkyn had avoided showing them whether he could hit as fast and accurately as Thunder Storm and the mountainfolk were noticeably more relaxed in his presence. Although he caught the odd person looking at him curiously, no one else mentioned his improved appearance.

But just before they entered the clearing, Tarkyn received an image of himself and the group coming towards the firesite from a viewpoint somewhere behind a clump of trees on the other side of the clearing. The image was accompanied by a sense of loneliness and longing. Tarkyn frowned but before he could wonder at its origin, his attention was claimed by mountainfolk who had been awaiting his return to present him with food and wine as continued proof of their contrition.

Chapter
27

“Your Highness,” said Sighing Wind when Tarkyn had had time to consume the first round of offerings, “Would you be interested in seeing the caves under the mountain where we ferment and store our wines? We have a couple of hours before the evening meal is ready.”

Tarkyn inclined his head, “I would feel privileged to be shown the source of your fine wines.” For the life of him, the prince couldn’t relax and be anything less than formal with the larger group of mountainfolk. Sighing Wind, having orchestrated the pre-oath ceremony the night before, was particularly difficult to be casual with.

Sighing Wind took a smouldering branch from the fire and, gesturing for Tarkyn to follow him, set forth with two other mountainfolk from the clearing in the opposite direction from the stream. Before they had even left the clearing, Ancient Oak appeared at the prince’s side. Moments later, Tarkyn became aware that Rainstorm and Lapping Water had also appeared and were bringing up the rear.

“Hello, Ancient Oak. Finally got away from guard duty, did you?” asked Tarkyn.

Ancient Oak glanced at the accompanying mountainfolk and gave a slight smile, “More or less, little brother. Thought I might take the opportunity to see their cellars. These fellows are reluctant to let other woodfolk into their cellars as a general rule.”

One of the mountainfolk looked around at this remark, “It is hardly surprising that we need to be careful about letting people in. One drunken evening and most of our finest, oldest wines would be scoffed by revellers.”

With a slight shock, Tarkyn realised that the speaker was Blizzard.

“I can imagine a party of drunken revellers near your cellars might be hard to contain,” replied Tarkyn, even as his mind checked the relative numbers of home guard and mountainfolk in the group and wondered where Danton was and whether he was well enough protected.

Tarkyn jumped as Ancient Oak gave him a pat on the shoulder, leaving his hand there reassuringly for a moment. Luckily, Blizzard had already returned his gaze to the direction of travel. Tarkyn smiled down wryly at Ancient Oak and let his shoulders droop as he released the tension  in them.

“We promise we won’t scoff all your wine,” said Rainstorm cheekily from behind, maintaining the flow of the conversation.

“I don’t think that we were planning on letting you scoff any of it,” replied Blizzard repressively.

Rainstorm was quite unabashed, “Well, that’s a shame. But at least I’ll be able to think about where the wine comes from, next time I drink some.”

Their way lead them over a series of huge tumbled boulders and down into a crevice at the head of a steep valley. The cave opening was disguised by a dense covering of hawthorn and brambles but even when these were negotiated, the entry into the caves was oblique; indiscernible until one stood at a particular angle.

As they entered the quiet gloom of the cave, Sighing Wind touched his smouldering stick to two brands hanging in brackets that had formed in the twisted vines clinging to the wall inside the doorway. He handed one brand to Blizzard and kept one for himself as he led them into the gloom beneath the mountain.

Tarkyn took a deep breath, flicked a wry glance at Ancient Oak and then exhaled slowly. He would have felt more relaxed with his shield around him but had to be content with his three woodfolk and his own reflexes. As he moved forward into the depth of the first cave, he felt a wave of reassurance emanating from somewhere ahead of him. Then he received an image looking straight at the mountainfolk in front of him from somewhere deeper in the cave. The mountain folk appeared relaxed and unconcerned, quietly focused on leading the way into their cellars. Tarkyn sent a small wave of thanks with a query about the source of the image but received no further response.

The back of the cave tapered into a tunnel that rounded a corner and then ceased. Tarkyn’s eyebrows snapped together in suspicion but Sighing Wind merely turned around and said, “This is the main entry to the cellars.” He pulled on a small outcrop of rock high on his left and a large section of rock wall slid silently sideways, revealing a further passageway.

Blizzard’s eyes narrowed as he studied the ground around the doorway, “That little pest has been here again,” he said to his fellow mountainfolk. “What’s he up to this time?”

Suddenly Tarkyn received an image of an immense cavern, its ceiling emanating a soft light from hundreds of glow worms. A feeling of pride and invitation flowed into his mind.

“Stars above!” breathed Tarkyn, “That’s beautiful.”

“What is?” asked Rock Fall in confusion.

“Your beautiful glowing cavern. Is that where you keep the wine?”

Sighing Wind frowned, “How do you know about the cavern? We still have some way to go before we reach it.”

Tarkyn shrugged, “I don’t know how I know. I just saw an image of it. Are there any animals living in there?”

“Bats? Glow worms?” suggested Blizzard.

Tarkyn thought for a moment then grimaced, “No. I don’t think so. It doesn’t feel right for a tiny mind like that. Besides, the view is looking up at the glow worms on the ceiling from somewhere lower down.”

Rock Fall, Blizzard and Sighing Wind all looked at each other then back at Tarkyn.

“We do not know of any animals inhabiting our caverns except bats and glow worms and perhaps the odd rat from time to time,” said Rock Fall, “We would not like to risk taking you into danger if there is some unknown animal in there. Perhaps we should turn back?”

Tarkyn smiled and shook his head, “Thank you for your concern but I believe the source of the image is friendly, whatever it is.”

When the mountainfolk still looked uncertain, Ancient Oak said, “There are seven of us. One of us is a powerful sorcerer and the rest of us are experienced hunters. It will have to be something quite extraordinary to overcome us.”

Sighing Wind nodded reluctantly, “Perhaps you should raise your shield, Your Highness?”

Now that he could, Tarkyn realised that he no longer needed to. The concern of the mountainfolk had allayed his fears about them.

“I will be ready to do so, should the need arise,” he replied calmly. “I am happy to continue into your cellars and would be disappointed not to, if you feel able to proceed.”

“Very well,” Sighing Wind turned away and resumed his tour into the depths of the mountain.

After following a convoluted path for another few minutes, the passageway opened into the cavern that Tarkyn had seen in his image. He and his woodfolk stopped dead and, with indrawn breaths, admired the vista before them. The cavern rose far above their heads and was naturally decorated with stalactites.  In the areas between them were rows upon rows of shelves laden with huge wooden barrels and dusty bottles of wine.

“Hey prince, this place is amazing,” said Rainstorm quietly. “I suppose princes are used to grand sights like this, are they?”

Tarkyn smiled abstractedly as he gazed around the cavern, “Yes, princes are used to grand sights. But I have seen nothing grander than this, Rainstorm. This place is magnificent.”

The three mountainfolk looked suitably smug.