The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (39 page)

They mulled over possibilities for the next ten minutes. Tarkyn had just decided that the dogs were the best option when intense feelings of satisfaction, relish and, surprisingly, gratitude flooded into his mind. He blinked then closed his eyes and managed to connect the two woodmen as the wolf’s mind connected with his. With a glint of sardonic humour, the wolf crunched down on a final piece of gristle as he sent a query to Tarkyn. Before Tarkyn answered, he asked why the gratitude and received back images of the wolf enjoying his dinner and of chains in the encampment being broken and thrown away. Then the query came again.

Using a complicated series of images, Tarkyn managed to convey his visit to Tolward’s house and that he wanted to protect the house from the bloodhounds following him. He demonstrated his request but managed to show that distance now made this impossible. The intense yellow eyes of the wolf filled his mind, the mere existence of its fierce personality posing a threat. Tarkyn held quietly firm and waited. Slowly, an image of two lone wolves skirting the edge of the woods to the east of the grasslands filled his mind. As he watched, the wolves halted and lifted their heads sniffing the air, their eyes focused into the distance. Then they wheeled around to their left and loped swiftly out into the open space of the grasslands, up the slope and along the eastern side of the ridge.

With the ease of years of mental co-operation, Running Feet immediately sent directions to Tolward’s house through Tarkyn to the two wolves. As they neared the sorcerers’ houses, the pace of the wolves slackened. They slunk along lower to the ground and sought out scant cover behind low bushes or tall stands of grass. Tarkyn belatedly realized that the wolves’ safety was threatened not only by bloodhounds but also by the very people they were striving to protect. He sent an urgent message to wait. With a wrench, he broke contact with the wolf and then, using Running Feet’s guidance, found the farm dogs, showed them the wolves and requested their silence.

Re-connecting with the wolf was not difficult. As soon as Tarkyn released his focus on the dogs’ minds, the lead wolf’s mind pounced and firmly restored the connection between them. Tarkyn explained what he had done and received a feeling of critical evaluation followed by acknowledgement. Clearly the wolf was not used to participants in his operations initiating their own actions. Attention reverted to the two wolves, who had now reached the point at the top of the ridge above Tolward’s holding. They ran back and forth, crossing and re-crossing the area between the ridge and the house. Now and then, one of them would stop and stare insolently down at the farm dogs who watched them, quiet but rigid with frustration.

Then, surprisingly, they did not skirt back around to return to the forest but continued along the ridge, zig-zagging back and forth across Tarkyn’s trail where he had rejoined the woodfolk at the top of the ridge. To lend weight to their presence, they chose a few places to urinate before finally retracing their own trail back along the ridge and down into the forest. Tarkyn sent out waves of approbation and appreciation.

Again Tarkyn’s mind was filled with the image of the lead wolf staring at him with frightening intensity. Then, just for an instant, the wolf blinked and looked away in a gesture of submission before returning his fearsome gaze to Tarkyn. Keeping his own eyes trained on the wolf, the prince bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement and sent a final wave of thanks before pulling out of the wolf’s mind.

Chapter
32

For a few minutes, the three of them just sat there in silence, recovering from the intensity of the wolf. Finally Waterstone blew out a breath and said, “Fair enough. I take your point. There is no way that wolf’s spirit is broken. He exudes strength and domination.” He glanced sideways at Tarkyn, “You’re a scary bastard, Tarkyn, if you have achieved dominion over his will.”

Tarkyn smiled faintly and looked at his friend, “I guess that is something we all have to live with.”

“What is?” asked Running Feet from the other side of him.

Tarkyn’s smile broadened, “That I’m a scary bastard.”

“Oh.”

Waterstone chuckled, “You know, when you put it like that, it seems much more straightforward. I can live with that. Meet my friend, the scary bastard. Has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”

Tarkyn smiled but shook his head regretfully, “I’m afraid I have been too much of one lately, especially to Blizzard.”

“That’s the thing I’ve noticed about you though,” remarked Running Feet. “You tend to return like with like. If a person is kind or needs your help, they receive your kindness and help but if they are unpleasant or threatening to you, you return their unpleasantness in full measure and then some.”

“The trouble is that sometimes I get the wrong end of the stick,” said Tarkyn. “For instance, when I first met all of you, I subjected you to my anger because I wrongly thought you were forcing me to stay in the forest and yesterday I tore into Blizzard for refusing to obey me when he was determinedly risking my ire to protect me.”

“Perhaps yesterday his heart was in the right place, but the day before he was downright nasty. So I’m not surprised you were ready to expect the worst of him,” said Running Feet.

Waterstone frowned, “Anyway, I don’t think it’s true that Tarkyn returns unpleasantness in kind as a general rule.” He glanced at Tarkyn, “What about Rainstorm? You sidestep his challenges all the time without beating him down.”

Tarkyn laughed, “Not all the time, but usually. His churlishness isn’t about me though. It’s about him. He’s not unpleasant,  he’s entertaining.”

Waterstone turned back to Running Feet, “And what about the forestals? They attacked him, were untrusting and unfriendly, shot arrows at him and tied him up.” He raised his eyebrows at Tarkyn, “And from what I gather, you just let them do it until they calmed down.”

“True, but let’s face it. That was tactical,” replied Tarkyn with a twinkle in his eyes.

Running Feet frowned and said casually, “So how do you justify not executing any of them when they actually shot arrows at you?”

Suddenly the air between them stilled, a clear indication that Running Feet’s words had gone beyond the pale.

With a careful effort, the prince took a breath and replied tightly, “I do not have to justify myself to you.” He let out the breath as he controlled his anger and continued, “Having said that, because you are my friends, I will try to. I’m afraid you may not like my answer, though.”

Waterstone looked at this man who held so much power and had just resisted his urge to hit them with his inbred disdain. He knew that Tarkyn often had to overcome such feelings and he smiled warmly at him, “You know, Tarkyn, I remember you saying that it was difficult for you to keep a dignified distance from us when you first came here and that subsequently, you decided not to. But I don’t think many people realize how hard you have to work on yourself to keep your friendly lack of distance. Just to let you know I appreciate how hard it is and that you make the effort to do so.”

Tarkyn gave a wry smile, “Thanks. I try. But I’m afraid I’m having no success at all with the mountainfolk.”

Running Feet who had watched this exchange with some interest, said, “Hardly surprising. You can’t go from the verge of outright war through to casual friendship in the space of a couple of days. How long did it take you and the home guard to feel comfortable with each other?”

Tarkyn shrugged, “It depends on whether you count the two weeks I was unconscious or not. After all, in a funny way, my friendship with Waterstone was forged during that time and it gave people a chance to become used to my presence among them even if they weren’t talking to me. But after that, I suppose it was at least another week before we began to feel at all comfortable with each other. Then of course, it all blew up and I left and found the forestals.” He grimaced. “… which brings us back to your question, Running Feet. How do I justify not executing the forestals when they fired on me with intent to kill?”

Tarkyn picked up a stick and concentrated on breaking bits off the end of it as he basically thought out loud. “This is not an easy question to answer. Firstly, I came as a complete surprise to the forestals. They had only vaguely heard of me, had had nothing to do with the oath-taking and knew little about royalty and the world outside the forest. All they really
knew about me was that I had thrown my weight around when I first entered the forest and that I was branded a rogue sorcerer. Whereas, by the time we reached the mountainfolk, they had had long conversations with you, and Dry Berry had been to my inauguration into the woodfolk and had had time to report back. Secondly, the forestals were frightened of an unknown outsider and were acting in self-defence. The mountainfolk already knew my reputation within the forest and knew I was no threat to them. Their attack on me was driven by resentment and viciousness. One was self defence, as they saw it. The other was unprovoked, unjustified attack.” He raised his head and looked at them in turn, “I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do. In the end, the reality is that my justification is simply a matter of the motivation behind the attack.” He gave a slight smile, “Which is not actually very helpful for anyone thinking of attacking me and wondering if they can get away with it.”

There was a thoughtful silence. Waterstone picked up a couple of pebbles and started tossing them, “I think that’s pretty clear, actually. I just think you hadn’t really thought it through until now.”

“I hadn’t. I’m afraid I basically made my decision in both cases without thinking it through at all.” Tarkyn smiled ruefully at them, “You see, what I said at the start is true. I don’t have to justify my decisions. I can do as I choose.” He threw away the last of his stick, “But luckily for all of us, what I choose to do is to stay true to myself and to you, and at least for the most part, to act in ways that you will approve of.” He gave a little shrug of embarrassment, “Because, after all is said and done, I value your good opinion of me.” Tarkyn stood up and brushed himself down, “So you see,” he said, not looking at them, “that absolute power of mine that you’re so worried about is not so unboundaried as you may have thought.”

Waterstone threw away the pebbles he had been playing with, stood up and grasped Tarkyn’s arm. “Look at me,” he said firmly. When Tarkyn reluctantly met his eyes, he continued, “I do not think you would exert your power over me or the others like that. I’m sorry I said that to Rock Fall. That is my gut reaction sometimes, when I see you wielding power but it is not what I truly think. I trust you, Tarkyn. I always have. I think perhaps I need to discipline my own reactions a little more. You deserve better support from me than you have been receiving.”

As they started walking back to the clearing, Waterstone added, “And you’re not a scary bastard. You’re an impressive bastard. It would be all too easy to turn you into a monster when really, you have used your power and integrity in acts of true heroism on our behalf.”

Running Feet cleared his throat and said gruffly, “He’s right, you know. At least he is now. He shouldn’t have doubted you.”

Tarkyn took a deep breath, “Oh yes, he should. Power is very seductive.” He eyed Running Feet whom he did not know so well and hesitated. After a moment, he decided to continue, “It is fun and exciting to wield so much power. It is intoxicating and therefore incredibly dangerous. I can feel that it could be quite addictive if I let it be. Never become complacent about my power nor let down your guard on my behalf. I need people I can trust to monitor me. I need you to be my boundaries.”

“Tarkyn, it is because you are so honest and recognize the dangers that we can trust you,” objected Waterstone.

“Recognising and avoiding danger are two different things.” Tarkyn grimaced, “The problem is that if I became seduced by power, I would be unlikely to listen to your objections anyway.”

“Then make sure you remember this conversation. So I can use it in the future if I need to” said Waterstone phlegmatically.

Tarkyn smiled, “You’re so practical. I will take care to remember it but let’s hope we never need it.”

Chapter
33

When they returned to the clearing and Tarkyn had been effusively greeted by Midnight, they filled everyone in on the success of their efforts with the wolves. Once the discussion had run its course, the prince quietly asked Waterstone to request Blizzard to come to see him a little way from the clearing. Even though no one else heard the message, all eyes were on Blizzard as he walked across the clearing like a man condemned, in the direction that Tarkyn had taken.

“Please take a seat,” Tarkyn gestured at a tree stump and sat on one himself.  He considered the mountainman, noting the tension in his posture and his set face. “Blizzard, I must apologise to you.”

Blizzard looked up in surprise.

The prince continued, “I have treated you unkindly on two occasions. On the first occasion, I could argue that you deserved it, as much for the way you spoke to me as anything else. But equally, I know that you felt justified in your actions at the time.”

Blizzard nodded uncertainly, not sure where this was going.

“On the second occasion, in the caves yesterday, I’m afraid the fault was entirely mine. I should have made clear my expectations before making you the target for my anger. So for that, I apologise unconditionally.” Tarkyn waited but Blizzard sat there, saying nothing. “Well, if you have nothing you wish to say to me, you may go.”