The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (35 page)

“As long as you can persuade him to have a wash in one of those icy pools, prince.” Rainstorm squatted down and gestured, “Come here, little feller. Come and say hello.”

Midnight glanced up at the prince but when Tarkyn sent a wave of reassurance and a picture of Rainstorm and himself as friends, the little boy let go of Tarkyn’s hand and walked over to stand in front of Rainstorm.

The mountainfolk shook their heads in amazement. Rainstorm took Midnight’s hand and stroked it as a greeting then gave him a pat on the back.

“He wants to join in with the slingshot practice,” supplied Tarkyn.

Rainstorm mimed using a slingshot and raised his eyebrows with a smile. Midnight glanced at Tarkyn, then back at Rainstorm and nodded with a wavery smile. Then he took a little breath and rushed back to stand next to Tarkyn again, grabbing his hand firmly and holding it with both of his.

“I think you have an appendage, I mean, friend,” said Lapping Water with a smile. She looked down at the little boy and smiled and waved at him. Midnight returned her regard solemnly and then released a hand to give a quick little wave in return before grabbing onto Tarkyn again.

Tarkyn smiled ruefully, “I think you’re right. I’m not sure what I’ve just taken on here but there’s no going back now. Shall we continue our tour so we can return in good time for dinner?”

“There is not much more to see, Your Highness,” said Sighing Wind. “There is a smaller cavern to the right where we bottle the wines and label the bottles before sending them out.”

Tarkyn relayed this to Midnight who sent back an image of two more caverns running off from the rear and the left.

“And the other two caverns?” asked Tarkyn.

Sighing Wind frowned, “They house our most precious, oldest wines. I would prefer not to take you into those caverns with Midnight.”

Tarkyn smiled, “Oh, you needn’t worry. Midnight goes into them all the time. He knows from watching you that they are important but doesn’t know why. So he goes in to look at them.”

“Blasted little pest. Going where none of the other children are allowed,” growled Blizzard.

Tarkyn raised his eyebrows, “Other than leaving footprints, has he caused other damage?”

“He moves things around and hides things. Sometimes they take months to find.”

Ancient Oak laughed, “He’s playing. Every kid plays hide and seek of some description.”

“This is not supposed to be a child’s domain in here. He can play outside,” snapped Sighing Wind.

“With whom?” asked Tarkyn dryly. “At least in here, you are forced to take notice of him.” He gave a short laugh and added, “I think you’ll find one of your better corkscrews over in that corner behind that rock.”

Chapter
28

Once the tour was finished, the next hurdle was returning to the clearing with Midnight in tow. The boy had gradually become used to Tarkyn’s woodfolk but he had kept up a constant barrage of poisonous looks at the mountainmen. He had a long history of derision and disregard from the mountainfolk in the clearing and as they neared the firesite, he baulked and pulled back. If Tarkyn hadn’t kept a firm grip on his hand, he would have bolted.

Tarkyn stopped walking and knelt down in front of the boy. He put his free hand on his heart and then gave a firm instruction for Midnight to come with him into the clearing. Midnight eyed him askance for long moments, then placed his hand on his heart and bowed his head. With a shuddering, deep breath, he raised his head high, looked Tarkyn in the eye and nodded. Tarkyn smiled and stood up. Together they walked into the clearing, ignoring all the curious and astonished gazes. Everywhere, eyes went out of focus as conjecture raged around the firesite.

Ignoring them all, Tarkyn walked across the clearing with his little charge in tow and asked, “Danton and Sparrow, would you like to join us for a short slingshot competition before dinner?” He looked around, “And Summer Rain, could you bring a towel and something to scrub up this young man please? He may need some sort of a tonic too. I don’t really know about these things. He seems a bit malnourished though, don’t you think?”

Once he had things in place, he turned around to the rest of the woodfolk gathered at the firesite, “To those of you who don’t know him, this is Midnight. He is a young woodman who has been shamefully neglected. He belongs to the woodfolk and deserves as much consideration as any of you, perhaps even more since he can’t hear or speak. He is not stupid or crazy. He has been lonely and reviled but that is now at an end. If you dishonour him, you dishonour me. I have promised him that he will be safe and will be made welcome among you. Please make sure that I keep my word.”

“But how have you tamed him?” asked Dry Berry, round-eyed with amazement. “He is a wild thing.”

Tarkyn smiled down at Midnight, “I have not tamed him. I have talked with him and reassured him, using images and feelings. As with all of you, he is bound to me as I am to him. Until his mother reappears, I will take responsibility both for his actions and his wellbeing. If you have an issue with him, take it up with me.”

Tarkyn watched as an interesting ripple of nearly-voiced complaints considered, but quelled on second thoughts, by their owners. He smiled wryly, “I see you have decided to let bygones be bygones. I agree with your decisions. Let us start from here and let each of you give the other a fresh start.”

Once he had overcome his nervousness, Midnight proved to have a high degree of competence with a slingshot for a seven year old. He stayed close to Tarkyn the whole time and if he was more than a few yards away, kept throwing anxious glances at him. When people smiled encouragement at him, he frowned ferociously at them, thinking they were making fun of him. Only Tarkyn’s constant reassurance kept him from rushing angrily at people who, for the first time in his small life, were actually trying to be friendly towards him.

Sparrow frowned at Tarkyn, “He’s not very easy to get on with, is he?”

“No, he’s not, but give him a chance, Sparrow. He’s frightened still and he’s not used to people being kind to him. He will learn, if we are patient, that we are his friends.”

Further difficulties awaited them at the cold deep pools when Summer Rain and Rainstorm tried to persuade the little boy into the water for a bath. Midnight twisted and wriggled until he finally broke free and ran panting to the edge of the tree line where he stood trembling and glowering at them. Tarkyn took him in hand and gave him a severe instruction to cooperate. Midnight sent him a woebegone look full of reproach and, with tears rolling down his cheeks, submitted to the ministrations of Rainstorm and Summer Rain. He cried piteously the whole time sending out waves of betrayal and despair to Tarkyn. Even when Tarkyn wrapped him in a towel and helped to dress him in a fresh set of clothes, an honour unrecognised by Midnight, the little boy wouldn’t meet his eyes and turned his shoulder away from the prince as he sniffed and hiccoughed his way through the aftermath of his tears. As soon as he was dressed, he hunched himself up in a small unhappy ball, turned away from everybody and closed himself off.

Tarkyn frowned at the woodfolk, “What am I supposed to do now? He thinks I’ve betrayed him and won’t speak to me.”

“You could show him yourself going into the pool yesterday,” suggested Rainstorm. “To show him it’s not a punishment….” He gave a cheeky little grin, “Though of course it is, both to yourself and those of us around you
,
force
d
to accompany you.”

Tarkyn gave a slow smile, “It’s just as well he can’t hear you. But I will try your idea.” Tarkyn shared his memory of his dip in the icy pool with the distressed child and received a response of flat disbelief.

Tarkyn blinked in confusion and looked at Rainstorm, “He doesn’t believe me. I’ve never had this problem before. How do I show him that I am telling the truth?”

Rainstorm grinned broadly, “Ha. That must be quite a shock for you. You, who are as honest as the day is long. ”

Rainstorm walked around in front of the sullen little heap and squatted down in front of him. Midnight hunched himself into an even tighter ball. Rainstorm tapped gently on his shoulder and kept on tapping until Midnight lost patience and swatted his hand away. Rainstorm immediately brought his hand back and resumed his tapping. Midnight finally looked up, his eyes filled with venom.

Rainstorm pointed to himself, Tarkyn and then the deep dark pool. He nodded and then grimaced and pretended to shiver. Then he pointed at Tarkyn and wiggled his finger in a circle near his temple indicating that Tarkyn was crazy. Suddenly Rainstorm found himself knocked onto his back with an irate seven-year-old, loyal even when upset, straddled over him ready to belt the living daylights out of him. Rainstorm grinned up at him, pointed to Tarkyn and gave a thumbs up sign then sent a series of gestures to show Midnight firstly that the little boy and Tarkyn were friends and then that he was also Midnight’s friend.

Midnight scowled down at him, then sat back on Rainstorm’s stomach and folded his arms. After a minute, the child pointed at himself and then Tarkyn, still without looking at him. He wrapped one hand around the other in the sign he had for friendship but then, with a caught sob, threw his hands apart.

Rainstorm still pinned to the ground, frowned and shook his head and reiterated that Midnight and Tarkyn were friends. Midnight pointed at Tarkyn, then put his hands on his hips and frowned furiously.

From the sidelines, Sparrow gave forth a chortle, “He thinks Tarkyn is bossy too.” She walked around into Midnight’s line of sight and nodded vigorously. Then she too pointed at Tarkyn and wagged her finger as though she were telling someone off.

Tarkyn, watching all this, sighed, “Even when people can’t talk, they still talk about me. It is amazing.” He came around to stand next to Sparrow, “Right. I’ve had quite enough of this.” He leaned forward and picked Midnight up from on top of Rainstorm and swung him onto his hip. Midnight immediately pulled back and tried to wriggle away but received a very stern instruction to stop. The little boy flicked a shocked glance at Tarkyn, but being a boy of spirit, recovered enough to make another half-hearted attempt to escape. Holding him with one arm, Tarkyn frowned and prodded Midnight and himself in the chest then firmly placed his hand over his own heart. The prince raised his eyebrows and sent a query tinged with disdain.

Midnight’s face flushed with chagrin. With both his hands braced against Tarkyn’s shoulders to hold himself away, Midnight stared for long moments into Tarkyn’s steady amber eyes. Then he slowly placed his hand on his heart and subsided with a sigh to rest his head on Tarkyn’s shoulder.

Tarkyn smiled proudly over the little boy’s head at everyone watching, “You see? In the end, he is an honourable little woodman.”

Chapter
29

But if Tarkyn thought that simply giving Midnight support and protection would stop his mischievous ways, he was sadly mistaken. Midnight was a playful, wilful seven-year-old who had grown up with little but punishment and abuse. He had a very weak foundation on which to base his trust in anyone and it gradually became clear that the first task he had set himself was to test out both Tarkyn’s limits and tenacity.

The next morning, Tarkyn emerged holding a frog he had found in his shelter. He held it out ruefully to show Lapping Water.

She laughed, “You know why that is, don’t you?” When Tarkyn shook his head, she continued, “Because he was angry that you went off into your shelter without him. He’s used to being alone but he doesn’t want to be. He wants to be with you, especially at night, not with the other children in someone else’s shelter.”

Tarkyn frowned, “But I thought he would like to be with other children. And will he not become too reliant on me if he is always with me?”

Lapping Water smiled up at him, “He is already too reliant. But he will need to feel safe with you for a long time before he gains enough trust in the world to venture forth without withdrawing completely again. If you hold him close, he may eventually gain enough strength to pull away without running.”

“And if I hold him at arm’s length?”

“If he chooses to stay and persevere, he will never feel secure and will alternate between trying to come close to you and forcing you to push him away.”

“With frogs, for instance.” said Tarkyn dryly.

She nodded and took the bright green tree frog out of his hands, “At least he’s only using harmless little frogs. He could use stinging nettles or snakes if he were really malicious.

Tarkyn looked much struck. Then he shrugged and smiled, “I don’t for a second think he’s nasty, just pesky.” He looked around, “Where has he got to now?”

Even as he spoke, a soggy wad of moss hit him on the back of the head. As Tarkyn swung around, Midnight’s head appeared from behind a rock, laughing uproariously.

“Little sod,” whispered Tarkyn. “Watch this.” The sorcerer sent a sharp ray of bronze into the tree above Midnight’s head and severed a small branch that dropped down on Midnight. The boy jumped in fright and looked around wildly. “Whoops. I’ve frightened him now.”

Tarkyn hurriedly sent out waves of safety and an image of what had happened. Much to Tarkyn’s dismay, the little boy sank down and dissolved into tears. “Oh dear. He thinks I’m angry with him and was punishing him. Poor little bugger. No one has ever played with him before.”