The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (34 page)

Suddenly, there was a little scattering of stone in a corner behind a row of kegs within a small enclave created by the stalactites.

As the three mountainfolk rushed at the sound, Sighing Wind ordered over his shoulder, “You three, protect the prince. Your Highness, put up your shield.”

Tarkyn raised his eyebrows but stayed as he was, while his three woodfolk arrayed themselves before him. After a brief struggle, the three mountainfolk emerged from behind the barrels carrying between them a squirming, angry boy, a few years younger than Sparrow. They dumped him unceremoniously on the floor and Blizzard placed a firm foot on his chest to hold him down. The youth in question glowered at them and, from time to time, struggled to free himself. Tarkyn could feel waves of anger, resentment and hatred emanating from him towards the mountainfolk. Then, amidst the chaos of the little boy’s thoughts, Tarkyn felt a hopeless cry for help.

“Let him go,” said Tarkyn quietly.

“No, Your Highness,” replied Blizzard, “He may hurt you.”

Tarkyn raised his eyebrows. “I will take my chances. Now, let him go.”

When Blizzard still looked uncertain and made no move to comply, Tarkyn spoke in a voice edged with displeasure, “I believe you forget yourself. I have ordered you to let him go. I would not like to have to ask you again.”

Blizzard cast an unhappy glance at Sighing Wind.

“LET HIM GO.” The prince’s voice ripped through the cavern, echoing against the walls and rattling wine bottles in their racks. “And don’t yo
u
eve
r
hesitate to do my bidding again. I don’t give many orders but when I do, I expect them to be obeyed.”

As though stung, Blizzard whipped his foot from the scruffy little boy who took the opportunity to scrabble up and disappear behind the racks of kegs. But rather than looking chastened, Blizzard appeared stricken and confused. He looked past the irate prince and frowned uncertainly at the Tarkyn’s woodfolk, “But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Am I not supposed to protect the prince?”

Ancient Oak glanced at Tarkyn then gave the mountainman a wry smile and said quietly, “You protect as you may, while Tarkyn does as he chooses. Not always the safest, but Tarkyn’s wishes override the requirement to protect.”

Blizzard wiped his hand over his forehead and let out a breath, “I didn’t realize it was so complicated.” He resolutely turned his gaze to meet Tarkyn’s forbidding stare. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness. I would not like you to think I was acting dishonourably. I truly did not understand.”

With a slight jolt, Tarkyn remembered Waterstone’s words about keeping his rage under control and realized that he had just thrown some of it out over Blizzard. He let out a held-in breath and said in a calmer voice, “And I beg your pardon, Blizzard. I should have realized that you were trying to do the right thing. I fear that I am still a little edgy after yesterday… Now, who is that young man and what has he done that causes you to treat him so roughly?”

“I would hardly call him a young man, my lord,” replied Sighing Wind shortly. “He is little better than an animal. He lives beyond the boundaries of our clearing and will answer to no one. He causes mischief and comes and goes as he pleases.”

Tarkyn frowned, “But surely if he is woodfolk, he must belong to a family?”

“His father is dead, as far as we know, and his mother is a trapper who spends most of her time in the mountains. She brought him back and left him with us two years ago.” Blizzard shrugged, “Even when she returns, his mother doesn’t have much to do with him. They seem to hate each other.”

“Why? Who looks after him? Surely he does not have to fend for himself completely?”

Blizzard growled, “He knows how to look after himself. He steals other people’s food and clothing or we give it to him if he needs it. He never speaks and he never does what anyone asks. He’s not supposed to be in here, but here he is again.”

“And what is his name?” asked Tarkyn.

“Midnight, my lord. He is named for the darkest, quietest hour because he never speaks.”

“I see. Just a moment. I need some time to consider.” Tarkyn sent a wave of friendship and reassurance out across the cavern to the corner where the young boy was hiding. He followed it with an image of himself standing where he was with the boy next to him and then a query. A picture of the boy being attacked by the mountainfolk returned to Tarkyn accompanied by fear and uncertainty. Tarkyn sent back an image of himself holding the mountainfolk at bay.

Tarkyn spoke very quietly, “If the boy returns, I want no one to move until I say so.” He looked around at everyone and checked that he had their agreement. Then he sent a clear request for the boy to come to him, edged with power but also with comfort.

For a long time, nothing happened. Then in the corner, a shadow detached itself from the wall and resolved itself into the scrawny, tattered little boy. Midnight edged his way closer to Tarkyn, keeping his eye carefully on the mountainfolk. As he came closer, Tarkyn saw that the boy’s hair was a darker shade of brown than the other woodfolk’s and his eyes were a harsh, brilliant green, different from the soft green of the rest of them.

Tarkyn sent him a wave of reassurance and then slowly sank down onto one knee so that he would not tower over the boy as he approached. As the boy drew closer, Tarkyn sent an image of himself and the boy within his shield with a query. Midnight returned a feeling of relief and safety attached to Tarkyn’s image.

“Excuse me,” said Tarkyn quietly to the woodfoolk. “I do this to reassure our little friend, not out of fear of you.” So saying, he waved his hand to create a shimmering bronze shield encasing the two of them, but his sudden movement frightened the child into jumping backwards.

Having been startled, the boy then found himself trapped and panicked, even though he had agreed to the shield in the first place. As Midnight banged his fists against the inside of the shield, Tarkyn sent him waves of reassurance and sat down on the dusty cavern floor. Then he sent an image of removing the shield with a query. The boy was too distressed to reply so Tarkyn dissolved it. The removal of the shield sent Midnight flying forward. He threw himself into a forward roll and came up facing them, gasping with fright, waiting to fend off an attack and glancing sideways to make sure he had a line of retreat.

“Could you all step back slowly please?” asked Tarkyn very quietly. “Give me a clear space.”

Tarkyn sent the boy the image he had received of himself and the woodfolk returning from the slingshot practice and then sent an image of the boy with a query. Midnight nodded. Tarkyn emitted a wave of friendliness and an image of the slingshot practice with a sense of invitation. He received back a cautious acceptance underpinned with strong apprehension. So Tarkyn showed himself standing with the boy while he kept woodfolk at bay, followed by another request for the boy to approach him. Surprisingly, the boy gave a wry little smile before sending a request for the shield to be re-instated.

This time, Tarkyn gave the boy an image of himself waving his hand to create the shield so Midnight would know what to expect. Once he had nodded, Tarkyn waved his hand and recreated the bronze dome. Midnight looked around himself at the shimmering bronze light that looked so vague but was actually quite impenetrable. He put out his hand and touched it, then ran his hand up and down the shimmering wall. He sent Tarkyn the tingling sensation of touching it, with a feeling of interest and enjoyment.

Tarkyn smiled and waited. After a minute, Midnight turned his eyes towards Tarkyn and considered him. Then he looked across at the
woodfolk standing a short distance away. He returned his gaze to Tarkyn, inhaled and, as he made his decision, let his breath out in a gust. As though his life depended on it, Midnight walked slowly towards the prince and came to stand before him, rigid tension in every line of his little body. Slowly Tarkyn brought his hand up and after a mental request for permission, placed his hand gently on the boy’s shoulder. Tarkyn drew on his life force and sent a gentle wave of strength and calm into the boy. Midnight’s eyes widened and for a moment fear flickered through him but he had made his choice and did not run. Gradually, the rigid lines of his little body relaxed and his stance became less wary. Tarkyn ran his hand down the boy’s arm and took his hand in his own. Then he gave it a squeeze and let go.

After a minute, Midnight sent an image of Tarkyn being hurt yesterday with feelings of horror and sadness. He leaned forward and frowned, gently running his finger down Tarkyn’s cheek with a query. Tarkyn began to explain in images but then decided to demonstrate instead.

Tarkyn flicked a glance down, not wanting to take his eyes off the boy for more than a split second and found a sharp piece of stone. Keeping his eyes on Midnight, he reached slowly for the stone and brought it up in one hand. He directed Midnight’s eyes to the stone and then used it to scratch a shallow cut across his own forearm. As the blood welled up, Midnight frowned in consternation. Tarkyn sent a brief wave of reassurance and then focused on the scratch to heal it. As the skin became smooth, Midnight’s brow cleared and he touched Tarkyn’s face again and pointed to him. Then he reached down and touched Tarkyn’s hand and then touched his own shoulder.

Tarkyn smiled and nodded. A feeling of pleased comprehension from the boy was swiftly followed by an image of the two mountainfolk being killed with an accompanying feeling of intense satisfaction. Tarkyn gave a short laugh that made the boy jump but didn’t scare him away.

Tarkyn sent him an image of the oathtaking and a query. Midnight shook his head and showed an image of himself watching from beyond the clearing. Tarkyn merely nodded slowly in understanding, but Midnight pointed at the prince then at himself and then closed his hands around each other in a gesture of bonding with a plea attached. Tarkyn indicated agreement then slowly rose to his feet. He sent an image to Midnight of the boy kneeling with his hand over his heart still with a query. The prince was not going to insist that this strange boy take the oath. But Midnight immediately dropped to one knee, bowed his head and placed his hand over his heart. Tarkyn tilted the boy’s chin up so that the boy could see him and then placed his own hand over his heart and sent an image of himself protecting Midnight.

Midnight’s face lit up into a happy smile. A sense of belonging, of being accepted as rightful member of the woodfolk and a strong attachment to the prince flooded into Tarkyn. The prince put his hand under the boy’s elbow and indicated that he should rise. Then he firmly placed Midnight’s grubby hand in his and kept it there. He indicated the shield with a query and after Midnight nodded, winked it out of existence.

At last, Tarkyn looked around at the mountain folk, “Thank you for waiting. Why was Midnight not included in the oathtaking?”

Sighing Wind frowned a little, “We did not even consider him, my lord. We would not have been able to make him cooperate, even if we did. And to be frank, I would not have thought, before now, that he would even have understood what was going on. None of us can talk  to him.”

Tarkyn frowned, “What about using signs or gestures?”

“We always thought he was gone in the head,” replied Blizzard, whose harsh voice reflected his usually harsh choice of words. “So we didn’t bother unless we really had to. He generally ignored us anyway.”

The prince glanced down at Midnight to make sure he was still all right, then said, “I have just had a long conversation with him. And do you know what his main reaction to taking the oath was?” When the mountainmen shook their heads, Tarkyn continued, “Pleasure at being counted as woodfolk.”

“It looked more like he wanted to be connected to you, my lord,” said Sighing Wind.

Tarkyn shrugged self deprecatingly, “That too. After all, I am someone he can talk to.”

“And how can you talk with him?” asked Rock Fall.

“In the same way I talk to birds and animals. We use images and feelings.”

Sighing Wind raised his eyebrows, “As I said, Sire, he is little better than an animal”

“Don’t you ever say that about him again.” Tarkyn’s eyes glittered with anger. As Tarkyn’s displeasure made itself felt, Midnight looked up at him uncertainly. The prince smiled down at him. “He is a fine little woodman whose only problem is that he can’t hear or speak. That means you need to be more protective of him since he can’t hear danger approaching, not relegate him to looking after himself and ignoring him.”

Sighing Wind gave a condescending smile, “Of course, Sire, you have only just met him while we have had to put up with his antics for years. I think you will find he is a nasty little piece of work when you come to know him better.”

There was a short silence as Tarkyn went still to think. After a moment, he turned to Ancient Oak, “What are the rules about a child staying with their parent?”

“A child stays with their parents unless they are unable to care for them for some reason. With the parent’s permission, the child may stay with others. If you are thinking about Midnight, I would say that his mother’s opinion is of little account because she has effectively abandoned him.”

Tarkyn turned back to the mountainfolk, “I would like to take Midnight with us when we go. Do you think anyone will object?”

“Hardly, my lord,” replied Sighing Wind. “I think we would all be glad to see the back of him.”

Tarkyn looked at his three woodfolk, “And you?”